Pretence

Chapters

Chapter 1 - Charity Concert
Chapter 2 - New Friends
Chapter 3 - Cellos and Recording Studios
Chapter 4 - Best Laid Puns
Chapter 5 - Letters
Chapter 6 - In the (friend) zone
Chapter 7 - Questions
Chapter 8 - Are things as they seem?
Chapter 10 - Awakening
Chapter 11 - Confrontation
Interlude 1 - Doorbells and Flowerbeds
Chapter 12 - Healing.
Chapter 13 - Glasses & Scarves
Chapter 14 - Uncertainty
Chapter 15 - Warming Up
Chapter 16 - To Each Other
Chapter 9 - Blooming Buds

Chapter 1 - Charity Concert

Melodia Allegrezza, daughter of Fancy Pants and Fleur De Lis, a talented violinist, and famous across Equestria for her soul-reaching music and unorthodox way of playing. Of all the musicians in Canterlot and beyond, this one unicorn was probably the most famous of them all, and the one known the least about. She wasn’t much for the paparazzi, and being a skilled unicorn only made it easier for her to avoid them.

Despite being a talented and relatively powerful unicorn - one capable of even short range teleportation - she never used her magic during her performances. That was the reason for her fame spreading like wildfire the way it had ever since she took the stage just a few years prior. All she used were her hooves to play, just like an Earth Pony would. Had it not been for her numerous flashy escapes from the paparazzi, many would have gossiped that she was a Fizzle - a unicorn incapable of magic.

It was because of this mare that Octavia was currently heading towards one of the smaller musical theatres in Canterlot. Melodia would play there as a guest, supposedly, and would receive no payment if the advertisements were to be believed. Knowing the De Lis family, however, Octavia was fairly certain that the advertisement was correct. Powerful and rich as they may be, they were surprisingly round-hooved with their money, giving away large sums each year for various beneficial projects. It made Octavia smile that she would be helping in the same way by going, even if the only thing she gave to the theatre was the money she paid for her ticket.

Octavia pushed open the door to the theatre and stepped inside, breathing deeply, soaking in the familiar atmosphere that always seemed to permeate every theatre no matter where it was or how many ponies were present. Her smile widened ever so slightly, her mood only getting better as she walked closer to the hall where she knew one of her greatest idols would play in just a short half hour.

Getting nearer the door, she dug into her saddlebags and produced her ticket, showing it to the gentlecolt guarding the door. He nodded and pushed the door open for her, letting her pass. She stepped inside and glanced down at her ticket, bumping straight into a stallion as a result.

“Oh! I’m s-sorry sir!” She bent down and picked up her ticket again, having dropped it at impact, and then looked up. He was pegasus stallion, not the most handsome but, then again, he wasn’t one she would call unattractive either. He was merely another stallion in the world.

“No harm done, Miss. Please be more careful next time.” He gave her a curt nod and trod past her.

She couldn’t keep from shuddering as his feathers briefly brushed against her, neither could she stop herself from looking at him with a frown marring her brow as he walked away.

The sound of a pony laughing somewhere put her out of her stupor. She shook her head and looked down at her ticket again. Row 4 seat Nr. 22. A quick glance down the rows of mostly empty seats revealed that the majority of ponies she would sit near were pegasi, causing Octavia’s otherwise polite expression to sour for just a moment before it reverted to the socially polite mask. She couldn’t help but wonder why, even as she made her way down to her seat and sat down between a unicorn mare to her left and a pegasus stallion to her right.

“Such a lovely arrangement, don’t you think, dear?”

Octavia cocked her head, looking to her left where the unicorn mare sat with her attention fixed on Octavia. “I’m sorry, could you repeat that?”

The mare smiled faintly. She was middle aged, though still plenty attractive. “It’s a lovely arrangement, don’t you think?” She waved a hoof to emphasise the entire room. “A free concert by one of the most talented musicians Equestria has to offer, all for the sake of promoting this little theatre. Free in the sense that Melodia doesn’t get paid, that is.”

Octavia couldn’t help but smile herself, her eyes following the mare’s hoof before settling back on her again. “Indeed, it is. I find myself entranced by Miss Allegrezza’s music every time I listen to it. And then there’s the fact that she only plays with her hooves.” She couldn’t help herself, her hooves acting on their own as they clopped together in excitement. “Simply marvelous!”

The mare giggled, holding a hoof to her mouth. “It seems like I found a fan of hers.” She extended a hoof, one which Octavia pressed her own against it and shook gently. “Name is Lyrica Heartstrings, by the way.”

“Heartstrings?” An eyebrow raised itself almost on its own accord. “As in the Heartstrings Family? Do you, by any chance, know a mare of the name Lyra Heartstrings? She’s was my senior in the university.”

Again, Lyrica giggled. “I do. She’s my daughter. So If the two of you went to the university together, I take it you are Octavia? I remember her talking a lot about you. She always was impressed by your skill. Not many earth ponies can play a string instrument like you do. Why, she almost made it sound like you were a national phenomenon.”

Warmth crept into her cheeks, colouring them a light pink, adding to the sheepishness of her smile. “Yes, I am Octavia. And I wouldn’t say that it was a national phenomenon. I’m merely an up-and-coming cellist as it is. Nowhere near your Lyra’s level.” She turned her attention to the scene where the red curtain still separated the stage from the audience. “Working with Miss Allegrezza must be a dream come true.”

At that, Lyrica chuckled, a dainty hoof covering her mouth in a vain attempt to hold it back. “You wouldn’t believe the kind of complaints my dear Lyra can come home with. Why, sometimes sounds like Melodia is a bit of a hoof full at times, as opposed to being a ‘dream come true’, as you call it.”

Octavia just smiled, turning her attention towards the stage once again. “Still, sounds like an interesting job with a lot of opportunities. Oh, and here she is.”

The curtain in front of the stage parted, giving way to a wooden stage polished almost to a shine. In the middle of it stood a beautiful white unicorn. Her coat was as white as freshly fallen snow, and a mane a gorgeous shade of cyan blue hung loosely around her head, combed to perfection. A pair of sky-blue eyes looked out at the audience, the smile on her lips so easily reaching out to the far back of the hall. She wore an elegant dress, a shade of blue lighter than her mane, with a silky shawl of a darker blue colour draped across it, and a large ribbon following the edge of the dress.

Octavia’s breath caught in her throat. She had seen Melodia on a few other occasions, but the mare’s beauty never ceased to amaze her. It wasn’t even because she covered herself in make-up to make herself pretty, as the mare hardly used any, nor had use of it. No, it was the more in the way she presented herself; confident and kind. But even then, she couldn’t help but admit that the way the unicorn’s mane framed her face, large fringes falling down like a pair of velvety curtains, was stunning in and of itself to say the least. What make-up was used only made already eye-catching features stand out even further, but never becoming the sole focus.

She swallowed as the unicorn’s horn flashed brightly, a violin appearing in the air beside her. Octavia knew what was coming next, but even so she never ceased to be amazed by what happened. Melodia reared up on her hindlegs, taking a few seconds to balance herself, before she balanced the instrument against her throat and took hold of the bow. Somewhere, off to the side, a piano started playing. Calm yet emotional tones echoed through the entire hall, followed by Melodia pulled the bow across and the strings, creating a beauty without equal.

It was all Octavia could do not to start shedding tears immediately. Both of her front hooves had raised to her mouth, her eyes watering within the first few notes. It was so beautiful and emotional that, despite the tears, a brilliant smile found its way to her lips. She knew well what effect music could have on ponies, having seen more than a few watery eyes and quiveling lips during her own performances.

All too soon the song was over, and a massive applause rang out through the hall, the echoes ringing throughout the building. Whistles and praise were heard en masse and, cliché as it was, more than a few roses were thrown onto the stage where Melodia picked up each and every one in her magic, smiling, and bowing to the audience once she had returned to all four hooves.

“Marvelous, isn’t she?” Lyrica asked, smiling proudly.

“She is indeed. And the pianist as well, amazing skill.” She was silent for a few moments, eyes trained on the unicorn still on the stage, gathering roses and handing them to someone behind the curtains. “Do you know who played the piano, by any chance? I would love the chance to meet him, or her.”

“That,” Lyrica said, pointing to the pony Melodia was handing the roses to. “Was my daughter, Lyra. She’s not only a lyrist, but also a pianist. She doesn’t always play with her, but she does from time to time. Today the usual pianist was sick, so she took his spot.”

“Still, being able to play with Melodia must be fantastic. So many opportunities and… I’m rambling, aren’t I?” An embarrassed giggle accompanied the faint blush that crept onto her cheeks.

“Think nothing of it, Dear. It’s only understandable. You seem to idolize this Melodia, so seeing working with her as a great opportunity is no surprise.” She turned back towards the stage, pointing towards where Melodia was again standing in front of the microphone. “Now, I believe there are a few songs left, then perhaps I can introduce you to my daughter? Or re-introduce you, as it were. What do you say?”

Clapping her hooves together, Octavia smiled widely and nodded once. “I’d love that. I never talked much with Lyra back in University, but it would be lovely to see her again.”

Lyrica shot her a sideways glance and smile. “I’ll see to it, then. Now, I believe Melodia is about to start playing again.”

Melodia had finished her concert with bravour, spreading energy and emotion with only the strings and bow of her violin. Not an eye in the hall had been dry, not a soul untouched by the energy exuding from the violinist. It had been, for lack of better words, magnificent.

Octavia followed Lyrica with a spring in her steps, a happy smile on her lips. They were heading backstage down a long hallway, to where Lyra would be packing her belongings. Melodia had, according to Lyrica, already escaped the premises. It wasn’t that much of a surprise to Octavia who knew the reputation the violinist had. She was one of the better ponies in Canterlot when it came to escaping the Paparazzi, the only ones who might be better were her parents. That family had a reputation for being able to either defuse whatever political scandal that they came across—if not avoid them altogether.

Lyrica walked up to a door leading into a side room near the end of the hallway, knocking a few times before pushing it open and walking in, Octavia on her heels.

A mint green unicorn mare with a teal and white mane sat before the mirror by the opposite end of the room, one eye closed and a small eyeshadow brush held in her magic. Seeing Octavia and Lyrica walk through the door behind her, she smiled at their reflections. “Hi mom, hi-uuh… what was your name again?” She put the brush down and turned around, face twisted in deep thought. “I remember you from the University, but I can’t remember your name. Wasn’t it Octypus or something?”

Lyrica shook her head and walked up to the unicorn, gaze glancing over the set of make-up below the mirror. “I believe you remember Octavia.” She turned to look at the unicorn again, one eyebrow raised—their eyes meeting. “Don’t you, Lyra?”

Lyra just chuckled at the look her mother gave her. “Of course I do.” She then returned her attention to Octavia, grinning widely. “Sorry ‘bout that. Yeah, I do remember you. The Hooves-On Cellist of Canterlot University, was it?”

The pony in question hung her head and sighed dramatically. “I never liked that title. But yes, that was that they called me.” She looked up again, a small smile on her lips. “How are you, Lyra? I know we never talked much, but… I’d like to get to know you a bit better now, if you don’t mind?”

Before Lyra could answer, her mother leaned in to whisper something in her ear. Something which caused a the lyrist’s ears to perk up, and a slow smile to spread.

“Little opportunist, are we?” Lyra asked.

“Excuse me?”

Lyra dropped down from the chair and stalked closer to Octavia like some predator. “You know I often work together with Melodia, so you think that you might get to do so as well if you and I become friends, isn’t that right?”

If Octavia’s cheeks had been red when Lyrica had praised her earlier, then this time it would be nigh on impossible to see the difference between her face and the ripest Sweet Apple Acre apples. Her pupils contracted, and she quickly averted her gaze to somewhere in the other end of the room, looking thoroughly ashamed as if caught red-hoofed. “N-No… I just wanted to-” The laughter of both unicorn mares interrupted her, though Lyra’s was by far the loudest and most raucous.

“Y-You should’ve seen your face!” She wailed, clutching her stomach with one hoof. “That was priceless!” It took several moments, but when she finally reigned herself in and managed to stop the laughter she looked up to meet the face of Octavia frozen in abject horror. “Woah… Maybe I overdid it.” With the best apologetic expression she could muster, she walked the rest of the way up to Octavia and tapped her on the shoulder. “Sorry about that. Didn’t mean to make you appear as some corrupt business pony. You were always quite the fan of Melodia even when she was only a child star, and Mom told me about how you seemed to idolize her, so… I thought I’d pull a prank. Didn’t go so well. Sorry.” She smiled sheepishly, pearly white teeth revealed beneath rosy cheeks.

It took a while for Octavia to regain her bearings, but once she did she briefly shook her head and waved her hoof at Lyra as if waving waving off the issue as a whole. “It’s fine. Apology accepted.”

Whatever Lyra was about to say next was cut off by an audible ‘thwack’ echoing off the walls in the room. Lyra, one eye pinched closed in pain, rubbed the back of her head where Lyrica had hit her. Said mare was still standing with a hoof raised when Lyra made her complaint audible. “Ow. What was that for?”

“For being an inconsiderable little bully. I thought you learned your lesson back in High School?”

Lyra didn’t answer outright. Rather, she sort of curled up a bit and mumbled something about “Not a bully,” although it was difficult to hear exactly what it was she had said.

Sensing that the topic, and general mood of the room, was approaching a slippery slope downwards, Octavia asked one question she had been thinking of for a little while. “Lyra,” she started, causing the unicorn to look up. “I realise that my question might be a bit intrusive and it’s probably not my place to ask, but why were, or are, you putting on make-up? Forgive my assumptions, but wouldn’t you be washing off the make-up after a show such as this, rather than put it on?”

While Octavia spoke, Lyrica had silently left the room, waving to the two younger mares, of whom only Lyra noticed, before making a discreet exit worthy of a certain princess on the way back to her room after a cake-raid.

Lyra just smiled cheekily at the question, as if seeing something Octavia couldn’t—and she probably could, metaphorically at least. “Usually, yeah. But I wasn’t on stage so making myself look good wasn’t all that important. As for why I’m putting it on now. A friend of mine, Vinyl Scratch, asked me out tonight, and I thought ‘why not?’” She shrugged and turned back to mirror and climbed up on the chair again. The brush with the eyeshadow was surrounded by Lyra’s pale green aura and resumed its earlier task of beautifying the unicorn. Lyra, with one eye closed, looked at Octavia’s reflection in the mirror, letting her know that she wasn’t simply being ignored.

Octavia, for her part, said nothing as she took a few steps closer, idly observing the wide range of beauty products on the table. More than a few of the products, she noticed, were of the more expensive brands that hardly any but the professional make-up artists used “She asked you out, you said. As a date?”

The unicorn’s brow creased ever so slightly—almost unnoticeable. “Nah. We’re just friends. Why, though? You got a problem with two mares dating?”

Her tone, Octavia noted, was most definitely defensive. She smiled disarmingly and simply said. “If I was, I’d be a bit of a hypocrite, would I not?”

“Huh? You mean?” Lyra put down the brush and turned around, eyebrows shooting up under her fringes. “Since when?”

“Since as long as I can remember. I always found the graceful and gentle curves of the female body far more attractive than the bulky and often blocky form of the stallions. And, well, a mare knows a mare best. I’ve heard more stories from old classmates about how some stallions seem to think with their rear-end, and only concerns themselves with how they can get into the bed of whoever they fancy.” She paused, smiling ruefully. “While such mares do exist, I find the vast majority to be of the same opinion as I: Companionship above intimacy.”

Lyra seemed somewhat taken aback by the answer. Eyes wide and mouth agape. She was silent for several moments before she eventually clamped her mouth shut, face melting back into a more casual expression. Or she tried, at least, as she still looked rather shocked. “You are gay?!”

Octavia tilted her head to one side, trying her best not to grin too widely. “You remember what ponies said about that Trenderhoof guy during University?”

It was Lyra’s turned to tilt her head this time, albeit in confusion. “Raging Homosexual?” Octavia stood silent, smiling. “Seriously?”

Octavia nodded, the grin breaking through a bit. “As much as can be.”

Taking a spin on the chair, Lyra let out a low whistle and came to a stop facing the other mare. “Yeah… didn’t see that one coming,” she said, turning around once more and stopping once she faced the mirror. The brush floated up again and made a few finishing touches before it was replaced by a small tube of lipstick. “Say… Why don’t you join us? I’m sure Vinyl wouldn’t mind—she usually doesn’t when I drag a friend along.” She put the lipstick down and turned around, smiling widely and with both her forelegs spread wide. “So, whatcha say?”

“You look gorgeous,” Octavia replied, nodding in approval.

“Thanks,” Lyra said, giggling. “But that’s not what I meant. Wanna tag along?”

“Well,” she said, quickly running through a mental schedule of the rest of her day. Coming up with nothing, she shrugged and said. “I don’t have anything planned, so why not?”

“Great!” Her horn flared to life and Octavia was promptly surrounded by its glow, lifted up from where she stood and onto the chair next to Lyra, who immediately started to pick out certain colours of eyeshadow and the likes that, she was sure, would suit Octavia.

Almost an hour later, Lyra and Octavia were walking towards the bar where they would meet up with this Vinyl. Lyra had done up the other mare’s mane in a high ponytail, as well as applied a bit of purple eyeshadow, though nothing too fancy per Octavia’s request. Attempting at mingling with high society she might be, but that didn’t mean that she wanted to become one of those mares whose faces were treated like a canvas more than anything. They wore no clothing, as such would only be laughed at where they were going. Even Octavia’s small bowtie had been separated from her, though only after several minutes of pleading and begging from the unicorn.

Lyra herself had the eyeshadow and lipstick she had adorned earlier, as well as a single earring made of silver.

“What’s your opinion on techno music, and especially the loud kind?” Lyra asked suddenly, glancing at Octavia briefly before looking back towards their destination at the end of the road.

“I never listened to it much,” Octavia conceded, “so I don’t have much of an opinion, though I will say that I have my doubts. It’s not as refined as classical, I think. I’m not saying it doesn’t have its merits.” She sighed and smiled good naturedly. “I guess I will try not to judge it too quickly and give it a proper chance.”

Lyra chuckled, grinning. “You’d be surprised. Not all techno is loud and trash, which is what I’m guessing you were referring to. Some of it can actually be pleasant and have an engaging rhythm—even play with your emotions a bit. Oh, and look, we’re here!”

Looking up, Octavia noticed that they had indeed arrived. The bouncer let them pass with nary a glance, only taking the time to see if they looked underage which they, of course, did not. Inside the music was loud, but not overly so. There was a heavy thumping that echoed throughout the entire building, not quite shaking it but still loud enough that the two mares could feel it in their chests.

It was a pleasant song with some piano and flute, though also the heavy bass which felt like secondary heartbeats. Suddenly, to Octavia’s momentary dismay, the pleasant melody was ‘invaded’ by a sort of electronic sound; something she could compare to a vinyl player breaking. It wasn’t long before she got used to it, however, and started to see the upsides of the music. It wasn’t as bad as she had expected.

They walked along the bar situated to the immediate right of the door into the main room of the bar from the hallway, Lyra walking purposefully forward while the other looked this way and that way, taking in the sights, sounds and smells. It was far from what she was used to, but it wasn’t entirely unpleasant. The heavy thumping of the music and the piano playing alongside it awoke a sort of spark of energy inside her.

“So this is Techno,” Octavia said, nearly shouting to be heard over the music. “It’s actually quite good, one you get used to the occasional mechanical sounds.”

Lyra’s chuckle caught Octavia’s ears over the music. “Glad you like it, but it isn’t exactly techno. It’s something called ComplexTro, I think. Oh, VINYL!” Having spotted who she was looking for, Lyra went into a canter and soon stopped in front of her friend.

Octavia, lacking a bit behind, came up beside them a few seconds later, first looking at Lyra and then at this Vinyl. First thing she noticed were the shades: Large, obtrusive, and covering her eyes entirely. Next was the horn on her forehead, and after that her white coat and two-toned mane.

Her breath caught in her throat; the semblance was uncanny.

This could not be a coincidence. She refused to believe it. Yet… she was so very different that most anypony wouldn’t spare her a second glance. It was true that they both had white coats, blue manes, and both were unicorns, but Vinyl’s eyes were obscured, and, likewise, Melodia’s Cutie Mark was unknown, whereas Vinyl’s was proudly displayed as the opposite eight notes that it was. But even with all those similarities, Vinyl’s wild mane compared to Melodia’s carefully brushed locks, the two tones versus the single cyan blue was enough to make most people take a glance and then look away—plenty of ponies had similar colour coats and manes. Despite all of this, however, this Vinyl seemed the spitting image of Melodia Allegrezza, so much so that Octavia could not shake the feeling that something was off, that there had to be a connection.

She gulped when the white unicorn looked at her—or she assumed that she was looking at her. It was difficult to tell with the glasses.

The white unicorn grinned, showing pearly white teeth. “Yo! I’m Vinyl Scratch, DJ Extraordinaire. Nice to meet you!”

Chapter 2 - New Friends

Octavia didn’t know how to react. In front of her sat a near perfect replica of the pony who was possibly her biggest idol, and one of the few reasons that she ever took up a string instrument to start with. Yet, she was so obviously not her due to the two toned mane rather than a single colour, as well as the difference in style. Melodia, graceful and with a mane falling gently down around her head, framing her face an only adding to the elegance of the violinist. This Vinyl, however, had a mane that looked like she had gone apple bobbing in a tub of gel, then taken a run through a wind tunnel. So different, yet so...

“Similar,” Octavia said aloud, finishing her trail of thought as her eyes still stayed glued to the DJ.

Vinyl rubbed one of her ears with a hoof, and leaned forward. “Sorry, what? Oh! Gimme a sec.” Her horn flared to life and a small, translucent barrier appeared around the three of them, becoming completely invisible after a faint pulse. Almost instantly, the music fell significantly in volume, becoming little more than background noise than the near deafening levels it had been before. “There,” Vinyl said, puffing her chest out proudly, “that should help a bit.”

Nodding, Octavia looked around, finding the act of such magic performed seemingly without difficulty to be, to say the least, astounding. “Really well done, Miss Vinyl.”

Vinyl, chuckling, said. “Thanks, not to brag, but that wasn’t all that difficult.”

“Showoff,” Lyra muttered sourly, though smiling.

“Sure I am, Piano-butt.”

“My cutie mark is a lyre, Vinyl,” the lyrist grumbled, dragging a hoof down her face.

“Right… right. Anywho!” She looked at Octavia, grinning. “What was it you were trying to say before? Didn’t quite hear ya.”

“I was just, well, speaking to myself. It’s just that you look so similar to Miss Allegrezza, the violinist. I can’t help but wonder if you’re related to her? Sister, cousin?”

Vinyl froze, as did Lyra. Both mares turned to Octavia, twin stares boring into her eyes. Nopony said anything for several moments, the two unicorns simply staring at Octavia while she looked back and forth between them, wondering if she had said something wrong.

Finally, after that seemed like hours, Vinyl spoke up. Her tone was low and dark, sounding more like the voice of someone about to threaten another. “You’re right,” she said. “I am the Batmare.” And just like that, the tension was gone. Lyra slammed her forehead down on the table, her entire body shaking from barely suppressed laughter. Vinyl didn’t even try to hide her laughter. Rather, she let the other two know just how hilarious she thought it was.

Octavia, however, just sat there with a dumbstruck expression on her face; features stuck between the anticipation she had felt when she had asked the question, and the complete and utter confusion that was the result of Vinyl’s ridiculous—albeit somewhat entertaining—reply.

“Wha… what?”

“Octavia… I-I knew bringing you h-here would be a good idea,” Lyra said, gasping for air. It took a few moments, but she finally managed to stop laughing and get her breathing back under control. “Holy… T-that was hilarious.”

“Right...” Octavia said, looking back to Vinyl, who were currently waving a bartender over to them. “So, that’s a no? No connection between the two of you?”

Vinyl ordered a drink for each of them, giving the bartender her best smile as he turned around to mix the cocktails. “Not really,” she replied, spinning around on her chair until she faced Octavia again. “Yeah, I look like her—or she looks like me—but aside from that there’s really nothing. I’ve never talked to her, or met her for that matter. I bet you ask because I look so much like her, right?” The bartender came over with the drinks, handing one to each of them before trotting off to the next customer. Vinyl took hers in her magic and took a sip. “Yeah, I know who she is. Kind hard not to when so many ponies think you’re her, right?”

Lyra hopped on the chair to Vinyl’s right, taking her own drink, downing almost a quarter of it in one gulp. “You should see her when the journalists are after her after a gig, constantly asking if she’s actually Melodia, or if she’s her secret twin sister or something.” She took another sip of her drink, this one much smaller. “The last one who did that is still having occasional headaches from what I hear. You did hit him pretty hard.”

Vinyl winced, the grimace on her face. “I didn’t mean to, you know that. He was just getting a bit too close, so I panicked and… threw him against the wall.”

“You did that?” Octavia asked, eyes wide and drink forgotten in favour of the conversation.

“And he was an earth pony,” Lyra added. “So holding him in her magic couldn’t have been easy.”

Groaning, Vinyl rubbed the bridged of her nose. “Could you stop saying that every time we get on this topic? I panicked, alright?”

“And earth ponies are known for being difficult to hold in telekinesis thanks to their strength, right? I… never thought you’d be that powerful.” Octavia never looked away from Vinyl while she climbed up onto the chair next to Lyra, leaning over the counter to look past the mint green unicorn. “If I may ask, how?”

Vinyl smiled wryly. “I do my own light shows and lasers, so when I DJ I’m in charge of every light and such going on. I control what lights and lasers and such are in place, but I also add my own beams if I think it’s getting a bit stale which, honestly, happens more often than you’d think.” She chuckled. “Those so-called prop light crews aren’t always as good as they claim. Don’t know how to match the songs, y’know?”

Lyra leaned towards Octavia, whispering in a voice which was ‘coincidentally’ loud enough for Vinyl to hear. “She’s actually quite proud of that.”

“No I’m not.”

“How exactly do you train your magic? I thought it simply stayed the same since you were born?”

This time it was Vinyl who spoke up, shaking her head. “Not exactly. It’s true that we are born with a certain amount of magic, but it steadily increases as we get older. You’ve heard of those things called Surges, right?” She waited a bit for Octavia to nod. “When we have them it’s our magic pool getting bigger, and it results in us momentarily losing control of our new, and more powerful, magic. They usually stop coming by mid-to-late puberty, depending on certain factors I’m not quite certain of. Aside from that, magic is like a muscle, so the more you use it the more magic you’ll eventually get.”

“It does often result in magical exhaustion, though. You won’t believe how many times I’ve had to haul her ass back to her apartment because she overdid it with the lightshow at a gig,” Lyra said, trying to sound exasperated and annoyed but not quite managing to remove the smile from her lips.

“Like you’d know how much it takes to run an entire lightshow only with your magic and no crew to help you,” Vinyl retorted, smiling playfully as she took another sip from her drink, and sighed in satisfaction. “So, what about you, Octavia, what do you do for a living?” She suddenly asked.

“I’m a Cellist,” Octavia replied with a smile. “Up and coming, as it were. While I did acquire a little bit of… fame, I guess you could call it, for playing only with my hooves, I haven’t been hired for a lot of social gatherings. Mostly I’ve played at small garden parties for some of the lesser nobles, or played other such small concerts. Still, it’s getting better: more and better paying concerts and such are coming in by the month. You could say I’m steadily rising in the ranks of the music world, if slowly.” She took her drink in her hooves, first taking a small sip to try it out, then taking a larger gulp when the pleasant, if strong, taste met her tongue.

A whistle came from her left, causing her to look and meet the bespeckled gaze of Vinyl’s. “Little miss famous, eh? Well,” she lifted her glass, “here’s to future fame, then?” All three mares lifted their glasses, clinking them together before drinking deeply.

In hindsight, that probably wasn’t the best idea. The strong drink caught in Octavia’s throat, forcing her to cough out what she could and soak the counter in front of her, as well as losing her grasp on her glass.

“Woah! You okay there, Octavia?” Lyra asked, quickly reaching out to keep the mare on her chair while gently patting her back, trying to ease the cough out of her. Meanwhile, Vinyl picked up the shards of glass from the fallen glass in her magic, passing them to a unicorn behind the bar who then came back with a glass of water as well as a rag. Vinyl took the latter of the two, immediately going about cleaning up the spilled drink.

“Bit stronger than I expected,” Octavia said between deep breaths. “Burns like tartarus.”

Lyra chuckled. “Yeah, some drinks tend to do that. Guess you’re not used to drinking?”

“No, not really,” the cellist replied as she re-adjusted her seating on the chair. “I generally avoid alcohol, so you could say I’m a bit of a lightweight.”

“Aren’t earth ponies supposed to have a really high alcohol tolerance or something?” Vinyl butted in, one eyebrow raised above even her glasses.

“Most earth ponies are, yes, but I’m not really that tolerant. Blame it on my lack of partying.”

Lyra snorted. “No surprises there. She was so ‘diligent’ that she even studied during recess, is what some of her classmates told me once.”

“That was only the week before exams, Lyra. You know how brutal the Musical History teacher was,” Octavia retorted, pouting slightly.

Lyra cringed, shuddering all over in what could only be called a comical display of terror. “Please don’t remind me. That mare would make Nightmare Moon look like a cutesy bedtime story!”

It was Octavia’s turn to chuckle this time around, resulting in a glare from Lyra and a questioning look from the DJ. “She’s overreacting by the way,” she said, nodding towards Lyra. “Yes, Celestine, our teacher and not to be confused with Celestia, was really strict, but she was also a good teacher and one of the reasons I ever got so good at playing with my hooves only. She’s the kind of pony, you could say, that doesn’t give up on her students no matter what... even if she did drive us to the edge and beyond.”

Even as she spoke, Octavia could feel… something about this white mare. She was friendly, that much was for certain, but there was also something else about her. It wasn’t because she was overly attractive, even if she did have several characteristics that could mark her as pretty, nor did she seem to just open up everything about herself and let everypony in. No. It was something about her eyes, even covered as they were. The way she looked at Octavia gave her a sense of belonging, of not simply being a stranger or a random passerby. Just the way that Vinyl looked at her while she spoke gave her a distinct feeling of being with a friend, someone who cared to listen regardless of how inane her monologues were.

She was, however, suddenly broken out of her reverie by a soft tapping on her forehead. “Oi, Octavia?” Vinyl said, looking up at her from where she stood beside her chair.

“What? Sorry, what did you say?”

A lazy smiled bloomed on the unicorn’s lips. “I said that, when it came to music and such, maybe I could help you?”

“Please, Vinyl,” Lyra chuckled. “She’s a classical cellist, I doubt you and your Push-Button-To-Music equipment would do much to help her.”

“What? I can do plenty with classical instruments! Didn’t you hear that sample track I played last week? Had violins and even freaking bagpipes in it! And the crowd loved it!” Suddenly, a mischievous grin replaced the smile that had previously been on her lips. “Or could it be that you’re just jealous? Or, should I say, green with envy?”

A loud thud of Lyra’s forehead meeting the counter was all the response she received, as well as the thoroughly unamused stare from Octavia. She ignored both, though, in favour of chuckling to herself. “Never gets old,” she muttered.

There are times in ones life when you just want to shut off your brain and bury your head in your pillows, letting the outside world know that you don’t care, or have had enough of it for the time being. It would be a lie to say that Octavia did not have such a day, as she fought with all her will to not smack herself from the sheer stupidity that was Vinyl’s earlier comment. Octavia groaned loudly, rubbing her forehead in an attempt to not follow Lyra’s example of denting the counter.

“That was abysmal, Vinyl.”

“I know. And I regret nothing!”

“Not to mention that bagpipes aren’t even a classical instrument,” Lyra muttered into the counter, only loud enough to be heard over the still present background noise that was the club’s music, being filtered by the sound reduction spell around them.

Vinyl blew a short raspberry at the other unicorn, using her magic to also steal a sip from her drink before she returned her attention to Octavia. “Anywho, the offer still stands if you want to. If nothing else, it could always be an excuse to chat it up some more. You seem friendly and I wouldn’t mind getting to know you better.” Even if she couldn’t see it, Octavia could feel the playful wink Vinyl gave her.

“Careful, Octavia, she’s going to hit on you,” Lyra warned playfully, having finally removed her head from the counter. “Before you know it you’ll be in her bed, begging for more.”

Octavia, already red as an apple, could do nothing but stare at Lyra with horror in her eyes, as if asking how she could say such a thing. Vinyl, however, just laughed, waving it off with a hoof while shaking her head. “Don’t worry about that, Octavia. I’m not gonna hit on you. You have my solemn promise!”

She breathed a sigh of relief, thanking the stars above that Vinyl wasn’t as crude in her humour, nor got as much fun out of tormenting her friends, as Lyra did. Counting her lucky stars, Octavia let of a sigh of relief, the blush rapidly fading. “Thanks. That… I needed that. Which reminds me, can I hit Lyra?”

Vinyl only grinned. “Sure. I don’t mind. She deserves it, too!”

“Hey? Wait, wha-Ow! Hey!” Lyra rubbed her shoulder where Octavia’s hoof had connected, shooting the cellist a displeased glare. “That wasn’t very nice.”

“Neither was making Vinyl sound like a sex fiend.”

“...Touché.” Lyra sighed, then chuckled and drained the rest of her drink. “Anywho, what about you two? Gonna stay, or?”

As if on cue, Vinyl yawned, futilely trying to cover her open maw with a hoof.

“What? Tired already?” Lyra teased.

“Nah… Was up ‘till early morning yesterday night, got three hours of sleep before I had to get up again.” She yawned again. “So yeah, not a lot of sleep the past two days. I think I’m heading home. It’s been a long day and I’d like some sleep right about now.” Then, to Octavia, she said. “About that offer, it still stands even after Lyra interrupted me twice. Whatcha say?”

“I think I’d like that,” Octavia said almost immediately, smiling. She still wanted to know exactly what was up with Vinyl and her similarity to Melodia, but she also wanted to just get to know the DJ herself in the event that she was wrong. “How about noon tomorrow? Oh, and where should I meet you?”

“Just meet me here at the club.” Octavia nodded. “See you then, I suppose?” She waved once then trotted away, leaving the other two mares to their own devices.

“What about you? Going home as well?” Lyra asked.

“I think so, yeah. I’m a bit tired and would like to sleep. I’ll see you some other day, I suppose?”

“Only if you want to,” she said, waving as Octavia jumped down from her chair and made her way to the door. “See ya!” She waited until the cellist was out of the door before lighting her horn, brows furrowed in concentration. “Now… how do I dispel this sound bubble thing?”

The crystals in the streetlights were slowly starting to brighten as Octavia made her way home, images of her bed already surfacing in her mind. Just as she had told Lyra, the day had been long, and she longed for sleep—as well as an easy dinner, her stomach reminded her, its loud rumble piercing the evening night.

Yes. Today had been a success. Not so much in the sense that she had gotten a business deal, which she didn’t, but more because she had reunited with an old acquaintance, as well as possibly gotten herself a new friend. Tomorrow would, she decided, be a good day. At least as good as this one had.

And to think so many ponies judge the middle class. Vinyl may be a DJ and not a noble—I think—but she’s definitely pleasant company, if a little… unorthodox, Octavia thought as she rounded a corner. Continuing her train of thought. “She’s strange, though. Even from only the glances I got at some of the other ponies in the club, she’s far more… civilized, I dare say.

Her destination closed in, and before she knew it she was already at her apartment door in the second floor. She gently pushed open the door and trotted inside, heading for the bathroom where she immediately went about washing off her make-up and letting her hair down as well.

“I’m looking forward to tomorrow,” she told her reflection, a gentle smile on her lips.

Author's Note

And here we go! Chapter 2!

The dialogue here should be a bit more... "alive" according to my editor, Taranasauruso_o!

I will try to keep updates somewhat regular, hopefully 1-2 updates a month if all things go as planned. I've been guilty of sporadic updates when it came to The Fate of Clover and Walking on Clouds (cancelled), and I want to redeem myself a bit with this one. Not to mention that this will be my biggest project to date.

Enjoy! And, by all means, leave a comment with your thoughts! While I may not respond to every single one of them, I do read all of them :twilightsmile:

Chapter 3 - Cellos and Recording Studios

There’s something to say about the sun. It gives life, ensures the survival of ponies, gryphons, plants and diamond dogs alike while asking for nothing in return. A benevolent entity the likes of which cannot be compared, save perhaps to the moon. But while the sun is an invaluable source of life—and occasional fridge raider—it is perhaps also the best sniper in existence, managing to always pass right through the tiniest cracks between the blinds, waking up the denizens of Equestria.

Yes, the sun is definitely a gift given unto the Equestrian lands, but it could also be an incredible annoyance, as a certain mare would testify to at this very moment. She reluctantly dragged herself out of bed, glaring balefully at the treacherous blinds which failed again and again to protect her from the life-giving light.

Octavia muttered something as she closed the blinds fully, wondering why the sun absolutely had to interrupt her sleep. She’d had one of those dreams again; of lying on a cloud with her parents beside her. She hadn’t seen them in a while, now that she thought about it—perhaps she should send a letter some time soon. It wouldn’t hurt to let them know how she was doing, after all, even if they probably kept track of her every move. At least when it came to what she was doing in the music industry.

Thinking about her parents reminded her of how her mother had used to play the violin once. She remembered thinking how it was such a beautiful instrument but, in her childish stubbornness, wanted to do something better—not to mention bigger—and went for the cello herself. Her then young mind back then had reasoned that if it looked like a violin, but was bigger, then it would be better than her mother’s instrument. A sound the likes of which she didn’t even want to remember had proven her very wrong back then. And if her own realisation hadn’t been enough, the fact that both her parents had visibly cringed while covering their ears was certainly enough of an indication that just because the instrument was bigger, didn’t mean that it was better.

Reading musical notes was one of the first things she taught me. Gruelling hours of what I had then called torture and useless knowledge… but it paid out, didn’t it? Octavia thought as she headed for the bathroom, grabbed the brush and started running it through her tail; long, charcoal strands quickly getting smoothed out. She quickly finished with her tail and moved onto her mane, grimacing at the tangles that would, undoubtedly, cause quite a bit of discomfort. I wonder if she’s still composing in her free time. Speaking of which, today’s the day when Vinyl and I would be meeting. A smile tugged at her lips, and she couldn’t help but wonder what they would do. Aside from just talking about music.

Still, she continued, nose scrunching up at a particular stubborn tangle. I can’t help but wonder… Does she truly have no connection to Melodia? They look almost identical, save perhaps for the mane. I wish I could’ve seen her eyes; that would have given me a clue, at least.

She continued brushing her mane, making sure it was nice and tidy before she put the brush back in the small cabinet beside the bathroom sink, then headed towards the kitchen for some breakfast.

She settled for a few pieces of toast, one of them with jam. She’d never been much for the whole breakfast thing, finding it not all that important as you could always just wait until lunch to eat. Ever since she was small she had been living with the idea that working to build up a proper appetite before eating was the healthiest. Whether it truly was or not, she didn’t really care.

Having eaten her fill for the time being—to prevent her stomach from disturbing her when she was with Vinyl—she once again headed for the bathroom, brushing her teeth and washing her face. Following that she headed for her room for her cello, a smile already on her face in anticipation of finally being reunited with her beloved instrument after an entire night of separation.

She found it in its case like always, and upon opening it she inspected it for any blemishes or damage, smiling as she found nothing; it was in pristine condition, as it had been ever since she got it. She had received it for her birthday some years prior, as a present for getting accepted into Canterlot university.

She ran a hoof along the strings of the instrument, humming lightly as she went over every detail and facet of the cello. Strings still taut, wood still polished to a shine. Her smile widened almost imperceptibly. I say we’re good to go.

She stood up again and glanced at the clock above her wall. 10:54. I better get going. She hoisted the cello up on her back and headed for the front door, grabbing a pair of saddlebags with her keys and a small pouch of bits first.

The light breeze caressing her face as she stepped out was a welcome change from the otherwise overpowering heat, which had haunted the streets of Canterlot the past several days. Personally she hadn’t minded that much, because even if it was certainly hot, the mountain winds flowing above and beneath Canterlot kept the city relatively chilled compared to what she had experienced in the countryside.

She smiled and started down the street. No, this was definitely preferable to the unrelenting sun she had sometimes been subject to outside of the city.

She was about halfway towards the club where she and Vinyl had agreed to meet when a voice called out to her. “Hey, Octavia!”

She turned to look, spotting Harpo; a harpist she often practiced with, on the other side of the street. He had his hoof raised in a wave which she returned, waiting politely as he crossed the street.

“Where are you headed?” He asked, falling into step beside her as she continued walking.

“I’m going to a club not far from here, I have an appointment there.”

“Appointment?” Harpo asked, eyebrows raised up under the fringes of his mane. “You’re going to play there? I didn’t know you started playing at clubs.”

Octavia rolled her eyes playfully. “I’m not going to play there,” she said with small smile. “I’m going to meet a new friend. We agreed yesterday that we should meet up and try to play something together. Apparently she thinks that classical and modern music can be mixed together, and I’ll admit I’m a little curious as to how. And if it can, then how it will sound. It’ll prove interesting, though, don’t you think?”

Harpo looked thoughtful for a moment, eyes crossed, and turned away a little. “I’m not quite sure,” he finally said, glancing back at her before returning his focus to the paved walk in front of them. “I’m not saying it’s not possible, but I have a few doubts. At any rate, yes, I’d like to see—well, hear—what you come up with. It will be something new, that’s for sure.”

Octavia nodded but otherwise said nothing. They continued walking in silence for a while until they eventually neared the club where Octavia was to meet Vinyl. They stopped outside, Octavia turning her back to the entrance, facing Harpo.

“Well, this is it,” she said. “It was nice talking to you, but I’m afra—”

“Yo, Tavi!” Both Octavia and Harpo cringed as the doors were slammed open, the snow-white unicorn known as Vinyl Scratch stepping out with a confident swagger in her steps. “Good to see ya! I was hoping you’d show up a bit early. I have a fantastic idea for what we could do, and—” She stopped, catching the eyes of Harpo. “Hi! Didn’t see you there! Name’s Vinyl Scratch. You?” She extended a hoof in greeting.

“Hello to you, too,” he replied, extending a hoof of his own and shaking hers. “Say… don’t you look an awful lot like that one violinist, Melodia?”

As quickly as she had slammed the doors open, as quickly did her expression sour. Even with her purple lenses it was almost impossible to miss how her happy demeanor immediately plummeted. “If so much as one more pony asks if I am that damned Melodia, I will set whoever it is on fire!”

Taking a step back, Harpo quickly bowed his head, muttering apologies. “Sorry! Didn’t mean to offend! It’s just… Yeah. You’re probably aware of the resemblance, I take it?”

“Yeah, I am,” Vinyl muttered, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “And you have no idea how annoying it is. You’d imagine it was fun to have small foals run to you for autographs because they think you’re some famous idol,” she let her hoof fall to the ground, “but it’s not. It’s actually kind of annoying. I far prefer signing autographs for the fans of my own gigs. That, at least, is because of what I did, and not what some stranger did. Also, not gonna set you on fire. Just a bit tiring with the constant questions, y’know?”

“Yeah, I know. Still… sorry.” He awkwardly scratched the back of his head.

“No worries,” she said, suddenly grinning again. “Anywho!” She turned to Octavia. “I’ve just about got everything set up. I see you got your cello, so what say you we get started?”

Harpo cleared his throat, getting the attention of both of them for a brief moment. “It seems you two have plans already, so I’ll be going.” She smiled and gave them both a respectful nod, then tuned and left.

Octavia returned his smile and waved at him as he left, then turned to speak to Vinyl. “I’m all for it, but… I thought we were going to your home to play?”

Vinyl raised an eyebrow behind her glasses, lips bent in a playful smile. “And here I thought you’d buy me dinner first.”

“I—What?” Octavia’s face was a mask of confusion as she spoke, and stayed as such for several moments before all of it collapsed. Her jaw fell, and her cheeks darkened as her pupils dilated. “What? No. No no no. Sorry, but that was not what I meant I just…” She stopped, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath. When she opened them again she did her best to give Vinyl a stern glare, but managing nothing more than just looking slightly flustered. “That wasn’t funny.”

Vinyl just chuckled. “Aw. Sure it was. Also, yeah, Lyra told me about you. Sorry if you wanted to keep it a secret.”

“It’s… alright. Though I can't help but notice that you seem rather calm about it.”

A giggle was all the response she got for the first few moments as Vinyl opened the doors to the club and made her way in, Octavia following. “Tavi. One thing you should know is that I don’t judge ponies. At least not at first. And that’s not to mention that I know you’re not somepony to just jump every mare they come across. Heck,” she shot the cellist a teasing grin across her shoulder, “if you were to jump me, I probably wouldn’t complain—You’re good looking.” Octavia blushed slightly and was about to reply when Vinyl followed up. “That, and I’m gay myself, so I definitely wouldn’t mind. Or Bi, actually.”

“Bisexual?”

“Yup! Mares or stallions. If you can satisfy me—emotionally, that is—I’m all yours.” She pushed open a door, heading inside with Octavia following close behind. “And here we are! The club’s own recording studio! Small though it may be.” She turned around, facing Octavia with a wide grin on her lips. “Now, shall we get started?”

Octavia took a quick look around, noting how the room wasn’t quite as big as she would have thought. Of course, there was a much larger room on the other side of a glass wall, in front of which stood a soundboard the likes of which Octavia had never seen before. To say that it took up one fourth of the room would not be an exaggeration, the length of it alone easily taking up two thirds of the glass-wall’s length alone, and at least half a metre of the rest of the room, leaving not a huge amount of room left for the chairs, drawers, and other small things to make the place comfortable. .

Next thing she took note of was the room on the other side of the glass itself. It was rather expansive, at least twice the size of the room they were currently in, and with enough room for an entire band to play in. A set of drums were already set up inside.

She gave the room one last cursory glance, violet eyes coming to rest on a door in the far end of the room. “What’s through there?” She asked, pointing a hoof at the door in question and causing Vinyl to turn and look.

“That’s how you get into the recording room itself,” she motioned towards the glass wall, “and also leads to a… I guess you could call it a supply closet. It’s where the spare instruments are kept. Sometimes things go wrong and whoever is scheduled to play breaks their instrument, so there are a couple spares in there if it should ever be needed.”

“Instruments?” Octavia’s eyebrows rose. “Isn’t this a club? I thought only DJ’s played at clubs.”

“They do,” Vinyl agreed, jumping up on a chair and sat down facing Octavia. “But sometimes there’s also business during the day, and in those times the bar isn’t a place for techno, dubstep, or whatever makes it way through the speakers. It only happens something like 3 days a week, but Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday are days when the club is open during the day hours.”

“I assume the club is much like a pub or bar, then, during the day hours? Food if you’re hungry, but also beer, pop, wine, et cetera?”

Vinyl shook her head. “Not quite. You can still only get stuff to drink, as there’s no kitchen here as far as I’m concerned. Instead there’s more beer than you can imagine those days. It’s usually old ponies coming to listen to country or some of the old classics like Ring of Fire. That’s why we have space instruments; for those days.”

“I guess that makes sense. No kitchen means no food.”

Octavia’s comment was awarded by Vinyl chuckling, eyes lighting up with mischief behind her purple lenses. “No shit sherlock. Kinda hard to cook when you don’t have a stove, eh?”

Vinyl’s comment, in turn, earned a grumble followed by a good-natured eye roll. “I was talking to myself.” This only earned another chuckle. “Having fun?” She asked, struggling to keep the DJ’s smile from infecting her.

“Yeah. I kinda am. Sorry if the teasing is getting on your nerves. I’ll try to hold in my reins if you want.” She paused, but before Octavia could say anything she clapped her hooves together and explained. “Anywho! We came here to play, didn’t we? You have your cello, so I assume you’re ready.” She motioned for the door in the far end. “Through the door and to your left. So whenever you’re ready, we can go about figuring out if our little experiment is a success.”

Octavia nodded and quickly made her way through the door and into the recording room. As soon as she entered sound simply disappeared. The only thing she could hear were her own hoof steps and breathing, the door she had closed behind her shutting off everything on the other side of the walls. It felt… surreal. Just seconds before she could hear Vinyl shuffling about, muttering to herself and pushing chairs out of the way, and now it was all gone. The only sounds were whatever what she made herself.

She walked towards the microphone hanging from the ceiling, putting her cello case down and picking up her cello. With practiced ease, she reared up on her hind legs, bow held in one hoof and the cello balanced against her.

On the other side of the glass wall, she could see Vinyl sitting behind the soundboard. She pushed a button and the crackling of a microphone could be heard, followed by the DJ’s voice.

“Alright, ‘Tavi. You ready? Just talk, I can hear you.”

“I’m ready,” she replied with little hesitation, subconsciously leaning a little closer to the microphone.

“Great! Now, let’s see…” On the other side of the glass wall, Vinyl let her magic come to life, hovering over a stack of papers and rummaged through them. She was silent for some time before she let out a quiet exclamation. “Right. I got it. Can you play Pachelbel's Canon in D Major? I’d like to hear that one first, see if I can come up with some good ideas for a remix or just use some of the samples.”

“I can. It’s rather famous and not that difficult, although far from easy.”

“Alright, then. We’re ready to start recording. Just play whenever you’re ready.” Vinyl gave her a grin from the other side of the wall, nodding her head and pressing what Octavia assumed must be the record button.

The piece started out slow, with long, deep notes reverberating through the chamber. Every note was heard perfectly, with no background noise to deafen or obstruct. A slow smile started to spread across Octavia’s lips, the music filling her with a certain kind of glee that she only ever felt during one of her performances. Despite the calming nature of the piece, she couldn’t help but add her own flair to the piece.

A few minutes later she drew the final note of the song, a breath she hadn’t realised she was holding going with it. She opened her eyes and met the bespectacled gaze of Vinyl, the unicorn nodding, brows furrowed in thought. Just as Octavia was about to ask what was next, Vinyl interrupted by pressing the speaker button.

“That was great, ‘Tavi, but I’d like a few bits redone if you don’t mind?”

Octavia grimaced slightly, only just now realising that she had become lost in the music. “Sorry,” she said, ears pressed against her skull. “I guess so… which bars do you want redone?”

Vinyl watched Octavia with a raised eyebrow, the mare having suddenly taken a turn towards timid. She heaved a small sigh, figuring that there wasn’t any need to make her feel like she had disappointed. “Nah. Don’t you worry,” she said, waving it off with a hoof. “Y’know what? I have enough for a remix already. So get on out here and we can go grab something to eat, if you want.”

The cellist bit her lip, glancing off to the side as if in search of some answer. She lifted her bow away from the strings, clutching it to her chest briefly before speaking again. “If it’s alright with you,” she began, “I’d rather we finish the Canon. I prefer to finish what I started.”

One eyebrow rose above the purple lenses as Vinyl tilted her head, gazing curiously at Octavia. “If you insist then I’m not gonna stop ya. The tape’s still rolling, by the way, so you can just begin whenever. Also, this time, could you play each bar two or three times? Starting with D Major, then A and G Major.”

“I can do that,” she replied, bringing the bow to the strings and, with her eyes closed, began anew, drawing out those beautiful notes once more. The smile came unbidden to her lips again, her entire body swaying lightly with the tune.

On the other side of the glass came another smile mirroring Octavia’s own. Vinyl watched as Octavia lost herself to the music again, though sticking to the plain notes this time. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen anypony enjoy playing music that much.

Octavia carefully propped her cello case against the wall, a satisfied expression on her face from the past hour. Vinyl had asked her to play several different pieces, ranging from obscure classical pieces to lists of notes which didn’t fit together in a melody. She’d had to wonder how Vinyl knew some of the pieces she asked her to play, as even she hadn’t known all of them—something she was loathe to admit. Despite the small wound to her pride, she still enjoyed the overall experience. She’d never played in a completely isolated room like this one before, and being able to hear every note as sharp and crisp as it could be was an experience she wouldn’t soon forget.

The smile that had been on her lips ever since she played the first note was still present when she sat down on the chair opposite Vinyl. Vinyl returned the smile, flicking her head towards the soundboard.

“Whatcha think?” She asked.

“About what?” Octavia couldn’t help but ask.

Vinyl rolled her eyes, though it went unseen for Octavia. “The recording room, of course! It’s always special the first time around. What was it like for you? What’d you think?”

“It’s… strange. It feels as if you get cut off from the world, and everything else just doesn’t matter anymore.” She paused for a moment, thinking. When she spoke again her nose had scrunched up in something akin to distaste. “But even then, I can’t say that I like it. It lacks acoustics and it sounds… off, when I play something. Don’t get me wrong, being able to hear every note I play perfectly is extraordinary, but it doesn’t quite make up for the lack of... proper sound, I guess you could say—it feels constricting.”

“I get what you mean,” Vinyl replied, leaning back in her chair, nodding. “I’ve heard the same thing quite a few times when I’ve had other ponies in to record. But look on the bright side, ‘Tavi. Because you braved the suffering of the horrible acoustics in the recording room, we now have a ton of samples to use for remixes and so, so much more!”

Vinyl continued her rant; giving detailed encounters of Octavia’s dangerous fights against what she called the Notes and Chords of Tartarus, waving her front legs about as a storyteller would when describing the grand battles of old, over a bonfire.

It was with an unsure smile that Octavia watched Vinyl’s theatrical speech and leg-waving, finding more than a small amount of entertainment in the spectacle before her. In the end, she couldn’t quite stop the giggle that wanted out.

At the sound of those bell-like giggles, Vinyl stopped immediately and looked quizzically at the cellist. “What’s so funny?” She asked, head tilted to the side.

“Nothing, it’s just… you just looked like you were having fun and it—well—looked entertaining, too.”

“I think you’re making fun of me,” the unicorn stated, crossing her front legs and huffing, lower lip poking out in a pout. The pout did very little in the way of lessening Octavia’s mirth or wipe her smile away. Rather, she only seemed even more entertained as evident by her continued giggles.

“I’m not making fun of you, Vinyl. It’s just…” she paused, suddenly unsure of what to say. What did she think of Vinyl? She’d hardly even known the mare for twenty-four hours, and yet here she was bantering back and forth with her; chatting and joking as if they had been friends for months if not years prior to that day.

There was something about the DJ that she couldn’t quite place. She was kind and welcoming, a bit eccentric, but good through and through. Vinyl had, from the second that they had met, been open and friendly towards her. Not once had she caught sight of anything that might dub her as judgemental or anything of the like. She was just… Vinyl. It could not be described in any other way.

She finally shook her head, smiling faintly. “You’re just a special one, Vinyl. I haven’t ever met a pony such as you, and while I’m not making fun of you, I can’t deny that it’s rather entertaining to watch you act out whatever theatrics are on your mind like that.” Vinyl grinned faintly, but offered no reply. Octavia continued. “Speaking of theatrics, have you ever done any acting? Or, to broaden the question, what do you do in your spare time? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

An ivory hoof waved whatever hesitance Octavia had aside, swatting it away like some annoying fly. “It’s no problem, I don’t mind you asking. However.” At this, she straightened up in her chair, locking eyes with Octavia—presumably, as the shades made it difficult to know for certain—her face set in a more serious expression than before. “I’m not gonna just answer your questions,” her expression relaxed, becoming friendly again. “I expect you to answer some questions of my own. I think that sounds fair, don’t you?”

Octavia released a small sigh of relief, having for a moment feared that she had insulted Vinyl by posing more questions than she already had. She couldn’t really deny the fact that she had shared very little about herself, preferring to see if she could find out anything that would point her towards a possible link between Vinyl and Melodia. Childish though the thought was, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something. Yes, she had spent some time with Vinyl now, and while she could see no obvious link between the both of them—Vinyl’s carefree personality being the most obvious reason for this—she still wasn’t ready to give up on it. Not yet, anyway.

“That’s fair,” Octavia agreed. “So… if I may, did you do any acting?”

“No, I didn’t. I did a little singing though… and please don’t ask me to sing. I sound horrible.”

“The singing lessons never did you much good, I take it?” The cellist asked, one eyebrow raised in a cheeky expression.

“Didn’t exactly have a tutor. My mother tried to teach me. That’s about it.” A grin then spread across her lips, revealing pearly whites. “And now, for my own question. How did you get in—” she was interrupted by her own stomach grumbling loudly. “Well… Dinner bell is ringing?” She said lamely, looking sheepishly down at herself.

“I think we perhaps should have gone for lunch when you suggested it earlier,” Octavia noted. “What do you say we continue this over a lunch somewhere? We could invite Lyra along if you want?”

Vinyl waved a hoof at her, her stomach having finally calmed down. “Nah, she’s probably busy anyway. Pretty sure she said something about a deadline for something, too.” She stood up from her chair, turning towards the door. “You coming?” She asked, throwing a glance over her shoulder at Octavia.

“I’m coming, but,” she glanced behind her, “what about my cello?”

“You leave it here if you want. I have a key so you don’t have to worry about it being stolen.”

Hesitant and worried glances passed between Vinyl and the cello, but eventually Octavia decided that it was probably good enough. “Alright, so long as we aren’t gone for too long, I guess I can let it stay here.” She turned away from the cello and towards the door, following Vinyl out.

Vinyl grinned and headed out, one hoof pumping the air. “And now, food!”

Author's Note

Sorry this took so long :raritydespair:
Everything suddenly got really busy about a month ago, and my writing got stopped for ~2 weeks straight :/

I'll try to be faster next time. I promise!
Anyway, it's here now! I hope you like it! :twilightsmile:

Chapter 4 - Best Laid Puns

It seemed, to Octavia, that her luck had run out for the day. The breeze which had previously made the heat more tolerable was now gone, and the sun being at its zenith, made absolutely sure that the streets were as hot as possible. Had she not known better, she might have thought that Celestia had some sort of personal vendetta against her, or at least held a grudge. Perhaps the karma from Grand Galloping Gala a few years prior had finally caught up to her?

She chuckled lightly at the thought, waving off the questioning glance she received from Vinyl. No, that thought was absurd. Even if such a thing as karma did exist she doubted it would be aimed at her, and after four solid years, even. The truth was more likely that she and Vinyl had simply chosen the hottest part of the day to go out for lunch, rather than be subject to some sort of divine vengeance for something that was out of her control.

A sigh escaped her lips and she looked up. Ponies of all shapes and colours were everywhere; on the paved walk and in the air—Some even on the streets themselves, dragging carriages and carts. A few steps ahead of her Vinyl had stopped in front of a nondescript restaurant, glancing over her shoulder at Octavia.

“You alright there? You seemed sorta spaced out,” she said, holding the other mare’s gaze as she came to a stop beside her.

Octavia smiled, shaking her head. “It’s nothing, just thinking- wondering why it has to be so blasted hot outside.”

“Well,” Vinyl began, a cheeky smile creeping forth on her lips. “There’s this thing called the sun, and when its light passes through our atmosphere, then—”

It was all Octavia could do not to roll her eyes, albeit unable to hold back a smile at Vinyl’s teasing. “Hardy har har. You must be fun at parties.”

“Oh, you have no idea!” The DJ exclaimed, grinning as she pushed the door to the restaurant. She cocked her head to the side as if indicating that this was their destination. “You know, there was this one time when I was doing a gig for some 16 year old brat at her birthday, and she asked me why I wore sunglasses inside when there was no sun to block out. Wanna know what I told her?”

“I get the feeling you’re going to tell me anyw—”

As per Octavia’s predictions, Vinyl continued undeterred. “I told her that it was to keep her annoyance out of my eyes!”

Octavia blinked, stopping for a moment before she caught up to Vinyl again, following her as she lead the two of them towards a table near the back, away from prying eyes and ears. Not that there were many patrons aside from the two of them. She only kept from groaning thanks to years of practice on how to hide her outward reactions. It was something she could thank the nobility she had spent so much time around for.

“Vinyl… That was horrible. I hope you know that.”

To her credit, the unicorn had a sheepish smile and flushed cheeks as she sat down at a table, facing away from the wall, looking at least a little embarrassed. “Yeah… it was.” She chuckled awkwardly, rubbing the back of her head while looking off to the side. “Sorry about that. Not that I regret it, but…” She paused. “Okay. I regret it... a little” Even as she said the last bit she looked Octavia straight in the eyes, then bowed her head and said, in a Canterlot accent so perfect that even Octavia could not hope to replicate. ”My sincerest apologies, Miss Octavia. It shall not happen again.”

Octavia was at a loss for words. Her jaw was hanging, eyes wide, and brain function had ceased. She was completely and totally stunned, a critical hit some might say. She’d had her doubts before, but this removed any such doubts. With an accent like that, and being able to pull it off to that degree… she’d let herself fall from the sky before she believed that Vinyl was not Melodia now, or at the very least a twin sister.

It was with some effort that she closed her jaws with a click, amethyst eyes doing their very best to bore through the purple lenses that so taunted her. “Vinyl,” she said, placing one hoof on the table between them, leaning forward almost imperceptibly. “I have to ask, because that accent… it can’t be a coincidence. Are you Melodia Allegrezza, or a sister of hers?”

Vinyl seemed to deflate at the question. “Not you too,” she moaned, forehead meeting the table with an audible thud. She straightened up again after a short while, looked at Octavia, and said in an pleading voice. “Please, please tell me you’re joking.” Octavia’s continued stare, inquisitive and demanding as it was, made her feel like slumping together again. “I’d hoped you would have dropped it after yesterday night.”

“I’m sorry Vinyl,” the cellist replied, shooting her an apologetic look. “But it’s something that’s been plaguing my mind the past two days. Or, well, since yesterday when I first saw you, actually… but still… You look so similar and yet you act so different. And with her cutie mark being unknown, it’s… confusing—I don’t really know what to think, but I just want to know.

Vinyl dragged her hooves through her mane, eyes shut in concentration as she tried not to get too annoyed with Octavia. Sure, she had posed a question that she’d been asked a million times—give or take a few hundred—but she couldn’t find it in herself to get truly annoyed with the cellist. She was a kind mare, and it was only her curiosity getting the better of her. She wasn’t any obnoxious reporter or journalist, nor any would-be noble who thinks that he can get some dirt on Melodia by trying to get her to confess to the two of them being the same.

She opened her eyes again and saw that Octavia was about to say something. Raising an ivory hoof, Vinyl stopped Octavia in her tracks before she could say anything. She took a few moments to collect her thoughts in the following silence, thankful that Octavia stayed silent, even if it were only for a few seconds.

“Look,” she said, lowering her hoof. “I know you’re just curious, but please… It’s a question I’ve been asked a million times and I really, really don’t like the question, nor like to answer it.” Octavia looked almost apologetic at this point. “I don’t hold it against you but… Wait.” She looked off to the side, her eyes glazing over as if in deep thought. Her lips pursed, and Octavia couldn't help but think that she'd just suffered some sort of epiphany.

“Wha—”

“Wait,” Vinyl commanded, raising her hoof to silence Octavia again, her face a mask of pensiveness, with brows knit together in thought. She sat silent for several long before she eventually exclaimed out loud. “Aha!” She slammed her hoof down on the table, a grin on her lips.

“I take it you got an idea for… something?” Octavia offered, seemingly thoroughly confused at the moment. One moment she feared that she had damaged what friendship there was between her and Vinyl, and the next Vinyl seems almost ecstatic because of… something.

“I did.” She looked back to Octavia, nearly beaming. “I have a suggestion for you. See, I think Lyra talked about Melodia having another concert the day after tomorrow, and one where she sings, to boot. She invited me along but I declined. If, however, she still has her tickets I can ask if the offer is still up, and ask if you can tag along with Lyra and I. Melodia and I being in the same room would be evidence enough that I’m not her, wouldn’t you say so?”

Octavia remained silent for another few moments, waiting to see if the unicorn in front of her had anything further to add. When it seemed that a long enough time had passed she finally spoke up. “I guess it would,” she admitted. “After all, it would sort of prove that you’re not her.”

“You sound hesitant,” Vinyl remarked, tilting her head slightly.

“I guess I am… at least a little. Probably because I don’t want the search to end?” She chuckled a bit at that, not quite awkward but not entirely sincere either. “It’s a strange thing, really. I wanted for the two of you to be the same so much that I didn’t even consider the fact that I may be wrong. I’m… sorry if I offended you in any way.”

Vinyl’s radiant grin from before dimmed down to a faint smile at Octavia’s downtrodden expression. Not out of any maliciousness or joy in seeing somepony sad or apologetic, but simply because she could see how sincere she was, and that the apology was heartfelt and not at all like the half-assed apologies made by the journalists who thought they would be the ones to find out her “secret,” but were forced to leave after it was made clear to them that she had no secret to tell them.

“Don’t worry,” she said, reaching over to pat Octavia on the shoulder. “Apology accepted, if that’s what you want to hear.” She grinned a bit as Octavia seemed to lighten up again, the shame she felt washing away. “Now, how about—”

A cream coloured earth pony stallion with an incredibly light blue mane stepped into her view, interrupting her and—with a gentle voice—asked. “Can I take your orders, please?”

“Right on time!” Vinyl exclaimed. She picked up the menu card and quickly glanced over it, settling on one of the numerous descriptions for a moment. “I’ll have the Red Salad and some water.” She looked at Octavia. “And you?”

She hesitated as she answered, eyes still fixed on the menu. “The same as her, but juice rather than water.”

“Right away,” the waiter replied, scribbling the orders down before trotting off.

For almost a full minute silence reigned, with neither of the two saying anything, content with waiting for the moment. Like all other things, the silence had to end. “What exactly is a Red Salad?” Octavia asked.

Snorting loud enough to receive perturbed looks from the nearest patrons, Vinyl leaned back in the chair, an incredulous look on her face—as far as Octavia could see. The shades made it quite difficult to see. “You ordered something without even knowing what it was?” She asked, a short chuckle following Octavia’s affirmative. “Well, it’s red pepper, tomatoes, apples, pomegranate. It’s really just a bunch of red vegetables and fruits mixed together with a bunch of some red lettuce—And please don’t ask me where they got it from, I have no idea. I think it’s good. Here’s hoping you will as well.”

“Sounds… strange. But good, I suppose?”

“Come on! Look at it this way, ‘Tavi. Think of the street lights. You’re not allowed to cross the street when it’s red, only when it’s green. And you know everything is better when it’s forbidden!”

For the next several, long moments Octavia simply stared at Vinyl, face set in a thoroughly unimpressed scowl. She had heard quite a few bad analogies in her time, partly thanks to the fact that her parents sometimes had a penchant for bad jokes and puns. She was lucky to avoid the infamous Dad Jokes, now that she thought about it. “That, Vinyl, was quite possibly the worst analogy I have ever heard in my entire life.”

“Yeah, I know.” To her credit, the DJ had the decency to actually look slightly ashamed. It lasted all of five seconds, however, at which point the shame evaporated, replaced instead by what Octavia had come to know as her signature grin. “But you gotta admit, it makes sense!”

“No.”

“Aw. Come on. It was funny!”

“No it wasn’t, Vinyl. Please, at least have some standards,” Octavia said, rolling her eyes in spite of the small smile playing across her lips. While she did think that Vinyl’s analogy was a bad one, she still found the way the unicorn acted to be somewhat humorous.

“And yet you’re smiling,” Vinyl pointed out, a victorious smirk tugging at the corners of her lips.

At this Octavia couldn’t help but chuckle, despite her attempts not to. “Yes… Yes I am. Happy, Miss Scratch?”

“Sure am! But… I asked you not to call me miss. Makes me feel old.” Her nose scrunched up in distaste. Evidently she didn’t much like the idea of getting old.

“That reminds me. How old are you exactly?”

“Tw—”

“Your orders, ladies,” a voice interrupted, causing Vinyl to look up. Octavia, on the other hand, fixed her gaze firmly on the table.

The appearance of the waiter did surprise her, causing a shiver to run down her spine. She almost missed everything passing between the waiter and Vinyl, only picking up the bare minimum such as the mandatory thank yous and you’re welcomes. Judging by the light blue glow visible in her peripheral, Vinyl had taken the food in her magic and placed it in front of her.

She was met with a strange look from the mare opposite her, blue-maned head tilted to the side and lips held in a neutral line. “What’s the matter?” She asked, her voice subdued as to not attract undue attention. “You looked really uncomfortable for a second.”

Octavia shook her head, and took a deep breath. She let it out as she straightened again, giving the plate in front of her an appreciative look before she turned to Vinyl. “It’s… nothing.” Judging by Vinyl’s continued stare, she wasn’t convinced.

“You’re not fooling me, ‘Tavi. Ponies don’t suddenly stare at a table when a waiter comes with your food, nor do they refuse to look at them when they ask for your orders—yeah, I noticed that, too.”

Violet eyes narrowed slightly, Octavia’s gaze fixed firmly on Vinyl in what might be called a disapproving glare, although it wasn’t quite a glare. In truth it was more of a firm stare. “I understand that you may be worried about me, Vinyl, but we have not even known each other for two days yet. Just like there are things that you have yet to tell me, there are things I have yet to tell you.”

Vinyl seemed taken aback by the sudden outburst, granted it wasn’t much of an outburst but more of a reprimand. Even then Octavia could see more than a little surprise the features not hidden by the shades. Her mouth was slightly agape, and she leaned back, her brows rising up from under her fringes.

That face quickly morphed into an apologetic one. She awkwardly rubbed one foreleg with the other, eyes downcast. “I… You’re right. Sorry about that. I didn’t mean to pry, and I was only worried about you.”

The annoyed expression on Octavia’s face melted away within seconds of the confession, replaced instead by a slightly surprised one, followed by a smile. “I appreciate the sentiment, Vinyl,” she said, the smile staying strong. “But you must understand that, like every other situations, there are things you just don’t ask.” A sudden, devious smile found its way to her lips after a few seconds. “It’s like how you don’t ask a newlywed couple when they’re going to make the bed creak.”

For several seconds Vinyl sat in complete silence without moving a muscle. She didn’t blink, didn’t breathe. She didn’t even flick her ear as a fly landed on it. It was right when Octavia was starting to get worried that the dam broke, and laughter erupted from the DJ. It wasn’t quite the raucous and uncontrolled laughter Octavia would have expected. It was high pitched, but still tempered by Vinyl’s slightly deeper than normal voice. All in all it sounded much more girly than Octavia would have expected.

So lost was she in her analysis of Vinyl’s laugh that she didn’t even register when it stopped, nor did she notice the hoof that rapidly approached her face before it was too late. Her nose scrunched up as Vinyl’s hoof pressed against her muzzle for a brief moment.

“What?” She asked, having been pulled out of her reverie by Vinyl’s ‘boop’.

“You spaced out… did my laugh creep you out?”

Octavia was quick to answer, waving her hoof in front of her in an attempt to wipe away the notion that Vinyl laughing could be creepy. “No, no. Not at all. I was just surprised by how, well, girly you sounded. You don’t exactly strike me as a feminine type of mare, pardon my saying so.”

“It’s cool. Don’t worry,” Vinyl replied. “In fact, it kind of makes me happy. Most ponies I know associate me with a stallion because of how I act and speak. It’s nice knowing that somepony sees my feminine sides.”

“You’re welcome, then. At any rate, shall we eat? I’m famished.”

Vinyl nodded and dug in, using the knife and fork with an efficiency she’d come to learn was a trait with most any unicorn. It wasn’t that she envied them, but being able to eat without having to use magnetic horseshoes, or take bites directly from the plate or bowl would certainly make things such as eating easier. She had tried to use a knife and fork with just her hooves before, holding them like she would the bow for her cello, but the utensils proved too small to be gripped comfortably in the ankle joint.

Well, I’ve lived my entire life without a horn so I’m sure I’ll survive the rest of it, too, she thought, shooting small, quick glances at Vinyl as she ate. I wish she’d let her mane down. She’d attract less attention that way, not to mention that it’d look prettier on her, I think.

Several more minutes passed during which they continued their lunch in companionable silence, neither Octavia nor Vinyl wanting to break it. Like all good things, however, the silence had to end. It did so with Vinyl suddenly perking up as if having heard or remembered something. In this case, it seemed, it was because she remembered something.

“Say. I didn’t get to answer when you asked me my age, did I?”

Octavia looked up, a piece of lettuce comically sticking out from between her lips, though it was quickly swallowed. “No,” she said, giving her head a small shake. “You didn’t. You were about to answer when the waiter came, however.”

Vinyl nodded, head bobbing up and down sagely a few times, before she stopped herself. “Right. But to answer your question back then, I’m twenty four... and you?” A faint, teasing grin took its place on her lips. “I did tell you that I wouldn’t just give you information without being told some in return.”

“I’m twenty two, and I see no problem with… repaying in kind, I guess you could say. So, do you have any other questions? I guess I owe you a little after I bombarded you with questions early on, especially so considering the more annoying ones”

“You got that right,” Vinyl replied, chuckling. “So I guess I’ll ask how you got into music? You play really well if I do say so myself—” Octavia couldn’t quite keep herself from blushing at the praise—”and it’d be a lie if I said I wasn’t curious as to how you started on that cello.”

“It’s not quite the most exciting story, but I guess you could get a good laugh out of it.” Octavia reached out for her juice, holding the glass between her hooves as she dug through memory before speaking. “It all started with my mom. She was a violinist, and while she wasn’t really of any fame she still managed to get a small private concert here and there; playing for a wedding or somesuch. I wasn’t much older than ten, I think, eleven perhaps, when I saw my mom playing. I got curious and started to listen to her play every time she did.”

“Naturally I got interested and eventually expressed interest in playing myself. That was when she found me a tutor. Together with a group of other foals my age, we practiced the Cello. It went on like that for two years before I got my own cello on my fourteenth birthday.” She chuckled a little. “I think I literally knocked my parents off their chairs as I rushed to hug them.”

Vinyl chuckled as well, Octavia’s prediction proving true; it was a story good for a laugh. “I can only imagine how cute it must’ve looked.”

Octavia tried, and failed, not to roll her eyes at the comment. “I think we got a picture of it at home,” she said. “So you may get to see it some day if you’re lucky.”

Vinyl let out a fake gasp, raising a hoof to her chest and leaning back in faux surprise. “Already inviting me home to see the parents? You sure do move quickly. We only just got to know each other, after all.”

“Such a joker you are,” was all Octavia said, downing the rest of her juice in an attempt to hide the otherwise poorly hidden smile. “But if you insist,” she continued, setting down her glass on the table and fixing Vinyl with a stare that she, for some reason, could not look away from. “I’m sure they’d allow us to… borrow one of the rooms in the back?”

For what was possibly the first time on Vinyl’s life, she was the butt of a joke and the one shying away from advances. That much was obvious even to Octavia, the cellist doing her best not to burst out laughing at the almost panicked expression on Vinyl. “What do you think?” She breathed after a few moments of silence, letting her smile break through the act.

“I think,” Vinyl began, breathing deeply and heavily in a vain attempt to combat the blush on her cheeks, “that it’s very, very unfair of someone as pretty as you to use your feminine wiles to play a joke on me like that!”

Octavia blinked once, then twice, and then two more times for good measure. “Pretty?” She asked, almost hesitantly.

“I—” Vinyl stopped dead on her tracks, looking almost mortified. “I said that out loud, didn’t I?” Octavia nodded. “Well… Alright.” Her hoof colliding with her forehead created a not-so-subtle thud. “There you have it, then. I think you’re pretty.”

Octavia couldn’t do anything but smile bashfully, a faint darkening of her cheeks. “Thanks.”

They sat like that for what felt like several minutes. Neither said anything, one embarrassed due to an unforeseen compliment, and the other for giving said compliment. It was only thanks to a ringing sound that the awkward atmosphere was banished. Vinyl perked up at the sound and lit her horn, producing a teardrop shaped gemstone with a small machine attached to it, as well as two plastic hooks extending from the tip of it. It was from this thing that the ringing came from.

Vinyl levitated the small piece up to her face, looking it over for a few moments before she pushed at what looked like a little button. She then placed the gem at the entrance to her ear, the hooks placed around her ear to keep it there.

“Hello?” She asked into thin air, brows furrowed in concentration. “Yes… What? Alright. Ten minutes.” She took the gem-machine-thing off of her ear and banished it from whence it came with a small pulse of magic.

“What was that?” Octavia asked, her face a mask of perplexion. “I’ve never seen anything like that… and why did you sound like you were talking to someone?” As Octavia spoke, Vinyl had produced a small stack of coins which she placed on the table, and stood up.

“Sorry, ‘Tavi. I can’t stay. That thing is a new... thing that Rarity Belle is experimenting with. Long story short: It uses the vibrations of gems as well as a small bit of magitech to make very long-ranged Voice Casting spells. They basically allow you to speak to ponies who are in an entirely different city. They’re still in the testing phase, but I got a few to distribute among my closest friends and family as payment for a favour I did her a while back. I think only six exist currently. Anyhow, let’s go get your cello. I paid for everything already.”

To say that Octavia was worried would be an understatement. The frantic way with which the unicorn spoke was enough to cause more than a little worry. “You okay, Vinyl? You look… scared?”

“I am scared,” she confessed, all but dragging Octavia out of the restaurant. “Someone I know got hurt pretty badly, and I want to be there.”

Octavia was about to say something but the world flashed blue before she could so much as open her mouth. She stood groggily, blinking and swaying after the suddenly teleportation. She barely registered it when the door beside her opened, only to be shut again barely seconds later, a black cello case being placed against the wall besides the door.

“I’m sorry, ‘Tavi, but I gotta go. I’ll see you at the concert.” And with that she flashed away again, blue filling Octavia’s already blurry vision once more.

She blinked forcefully several times, forcing the colourful dots out of her vision with as much willpower as effort. After more attempts than she cared to count the dots finally disappeared, allowing her full view of the entrance to the bar they had been at the previous night, and played at earlier that day. She looked almost mournfully at the door, wondering what exactly happened.

“I hope she, and whoever it is who got hurt, will be okay,” she muttered. She stood there for another minute before she decided to head home. She hoisted her cello onto her back and started down the sidewalk.

Author's Note

And here it is! One month after the last chapter, and finally finished.

I had wanted to get it up earlier, but... Stuff happened and I didn't get enough written. I was stuck halfway through and didn't really know how to continue. Eventually, though, I wrote horse words.

~~That being said, the latter half of the chapter is unedited, so if you find any mistakes please point them out so I can correct them. An edited version will be up when my editors have time to go through the rest (Real Life happened. It swooped down and stole them away :<)~~

Edits. Done!

Chapter 5 - Letters

The door closed behind Octavia with an almost inaudible click, shutting out the outside world for the first time since that morning. A sigh escaped her lips as she stepped into her bedroom and set the large cello case up against the wall. She’d trained for years to become strong enough to endure the weight of the instrument for long periods of time, but that didn’t necessarily mean that it was easy to carry; it was still so big that most ponies would ask a unicorn friend to help them, or use a small cart to ferry it to and fro.

But not Octavia. She’d carried it—or tried to, at least—ever since it was placed in her possession all those years ago. She didn’t know if it was stubbornness that made her carry it, or if it was pride, or perhaps even a feeling of paranoia; that it’d disappear or be damaged if she didn’t feel the weight of it on her own back.

Shaking her head in exasperation of her own irrational fears, she made her way back to the front door, deposited her saddlebags on the old desk in the hallway and picked up the day’s mail. As with any other day it consisted primarily of bills for various subscriptions, though most of these were for newspapers only.

One envelope, however, caught her interest. It was addressed to herself, of course, with her address and name written in elegant strokes that seemed to come more from a brush than a quill. A smile quickly lit up on her face as she recognized the elegant calligraphy of her mother’s. She placed the other envelopes on the table in the living room, vowing to sort them later, and placed all of her attention on the one in her hooves. She hadn’t heard from her parents in quite a while, so the letter was a welcome surprise.

The letter was already open and had been pulled out of the envelope before she even sat down, violet eyes carefully reading each line with a constant smile on her lips.

Dear Octavia

It’s been a while, hasn’t it? I’m a little disappointed you haven’t written to us yet, but with how busy everything is for you I guess it can’t be helped—you are busy, aren’t you?

Enough about that, though. Things are going well back home. Chime and I painted the living room the other day. I tell you, it was a nightmare to get the paint out of our coats after that! What’s worse was my mane. You wouldn’t believe what a disaster it was. I swear your aunt—you know, Aunt Marble, the hairdresser—would’ve had a fit if she’d seen me…either that or a stroke. Sorry, I wasn’t allowed to write that. Chime is such a killjoy sometimes.

How are things going with you? Finally found a fillyfriend for yourself? A cute little one with a plump rear and velvet mane and tail?

Despite years of getting used to her mother’s teasings, she still found herself taken by surprise at the inquiry; heat blossoming in her cheeks. She shook her head to clear off whatever unnecessary thoughts permeated her mind in that moment. after a few moments of shaking, her mind had been cleaned to a satisfactory level, and she returned to reading.

Turns out I wasn’t allowed to write that either. But more important, Sweety, if you have found somepony, however, please do write. And if you haven’t write anyways. We’d love to hear from you again soon.

With Love
-Ivory Rose & Chime

Faint hints of a blush remained for a few seconds after she had read the letter. She re-read it once more after said blush had receded and felt herself smile even wider than before. Just as her mother said, it had been far too long since she had written to them. Deciding that now would be as good a time as any to write a reply, she brushed away the bills on the coffee table and replaced them with her own set of ink, quill, and parchment.

Biting down on the feathery end of her quill she quickly set to work. Or rather, would have, had she not immediately seized up and found herself unable to formulate a reply. What should she tell them? There hadn’t been a whole lot going on in the way of her fame, now that she thought of it. There had been a few private parties she’d played at, a garden party arranged by the not-so-famous brother of Photo Finish whom she couldn’t even remember the name of—or didn’t want to remember, actually. The guy had been a pompous ass at best that night.

She didn’t really want to tell them about Vinyl and her theory that she was Melodia. If she had to admit it, it was a foolish notion that they could be the same pony. Appearance resemblances aside, they acted so differently from one another that it was almost impossible for them to be the same. One was laid back and casual, saying what came to her mind, so long as it wasn’t directly offensive—she wasn’t completely inept when it came to social situations. That, and she had an easy grin. She smiled often, at least.

The other, Octavia thought with a small frown, was almost her polar opposite. Calm, composed, and very rarely said anything. It was true that she hadn’t really heard Melodia speak all that much, but she had heard enough of her small speeches before and after concerts that she had an idea of her personality. Boisterous would be the last word she used to describe the violinist; she was very much the opposite.

The sound of Octavia tapping her hoof against her chin broke the silence in her apartment, her mind having turned away from Melodia and Vinyl, and instead focused on what to write. After a while she stopped her tapping and lowered the quill into the ink bottle, and started writing.

Dear Ivory Rose and Chime

Thank you for writing, and sorry for not writing in return. I’ll have to plead guilty to not writing, not because I was busy, but simply because I had forgotten about it. Our last exchange of letters happened several weeks ago and I simply forgot about it. My apologies.

In a different note, I haven’t found a fillyfriend for myself—regrettably. Romance isn’t really that important to me at the moment, but I still do miss having somepony to share a bed with. Sleeping only, Mother; not everything has to be about sex you gutter-brain.

Octavia stopped writing for a moment, spitting out the quill to avoid choking on it amidst her chuckles. The words themselves weren’t what made it funny, but Chime’s reaction when Ivory read the letter aloud. It was a short bout of laughter, after which she picked up the quill again and continued writing.

But no, I don’t have a fillyfriend. On the other hand, however, I have made a new friend lately. Her name is Vinyl Scratch. She is very friendly, if a little odd every now and then. I do like her, though, as she somehow makes me smile without even trying.

I’m sure you remember Lyra from my university time. I didn’t talk much with her then, but I did a little. I met Vinyl through her, as I came across her mother during a concert by Melodia Allegrezza, and while I didn’t know who she was to begin with I soon found out. After the concert she led me backstage where she introduced me to Lyra. We talked for a bit before she invited me out to a club—yes, I went to a club. You can tease me about it when I visit next—where she introduced me to Vinyl Scratch.

She was, as I said, kind. The night was definitely fun, and I did enjoy it. The next day we also met up and played together—she’s a musician, too—and I realised that music isn’t just wooden instruments with strings and bows, but can also be made with electronics. Strange, I know, but it was an entertaining day.

Sadly, a friend of hers got hu We ended the day with a trip to a nearby café where we had something called a red salad. I should see if I could get the recipe and give it to you; it’s really good.

I think that’s about all I have to say. I’m looking forward to hearing from you.

Love from your Little Filly

Octavia

She put the quill down and grabbed a small container of very fine sand, sprinkling a small amount over the letter to help it dry quicker. She sneezed after putting the container down, cursing the grains that had managed to get into her nose. Drying the ink with sand was almost the part she hated the most, but it was either that or wait for at least two hours before she was sure that it wasn’t going to smudge when she rolled it together.

Even then it would take about half an hour before she was certain that it was dry enough to be rolled up and sent. She packed her writing gear and put it back where she usually kept it—beside her gramophone—and was about to pick a book to read when a knock on the door interrupted her.

“Wonder who that is,” she murmured to herself and headed for the door. The visitor knocked again as she reached for the door, standing with his hoof in mid-air when she opened it. “Harpo,” she with some surprise, “what are you doing here?”

“Visiting the friend my mom forced on me, of course!” He replied theatrically, holding a hoof to his forehead.

Octavia rolled her eyes playfully. “Oh woe is me. The horrible, horrible pony your mother forced you to befriend; a task you took to with some zeal.”

“It wasn’t that bad, was it?” A somewhat serious expression now adorned Harpo’s face. Playfully serious, that is.

“You wouldn’t leave me alone for two months, Harpo,” Octavia chuckled, retreating back into the living room, indicating for him to follow; which he did. “I was sort of forced to accept you as a friend since you wouldn’t give up. Couldn’t very well let all your good efforts go to waste.” She paused, glancing between the gramophone and the kitchen. “I don’t regret it though,” she concluded with a small smile, and headed for the kitchen. “Want something to drink?”

“You have a La Shatool from 890 A.B?” He called after her, having taken a seat in the couch.

“First of, you’re pronouncing it wrong!” She called back, and fished out a large carton of orange juice, from which she then poured two glasses. “Secondly, you don’t even drink!” She added after putting the carton back in the fridge.

“I know! But it sounds classy to ask for wine!”

“And you, my friend,” she said as she came back into the living room, two glasses of orange juice balanced on her back, “are anything but classy.” She put the glasses onto the table, sitting down beside Harpo and taking one of them; held between her hooves. “So what’s been going on lately? I saw you earlier today, but we didn’t have much time to chat.”

Nodding, Harpo took his own glass and took a significant gulp of it. “I had been visiting my dad; still hates my mom for some weird reason, but eh.” He shrugged. “He never was that great of a guy. Or so she says at least. He’s plenty nice to me, but has a tendency to complain about her being far too good at finding out secrets.” He furrowed his brows. “I don’t think he ever forgave her for finding out that he cheated on her.”

“I don’t imagine he’d be very happy about that,” Octavia mused. “But then again, I’m not surprised that she actually found out. She’s damn good at getting to the heart of just about anything.”

Harpo chuckled. “Yup. She was good at that.” He shuddered. “Too good, actually.”

“She found out about Rollo the teddy bear?” Octavia asked, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

“Worse. She found out I had a crush once… The teasing was horrible. So, so horrible.” He shuddered again, and downed the juice. After a few moments of composing himself from the memory of his ‘traumatic experience’ he turned to Octavia. “So, what about you? Anything interesting happened lately outside of the date with that DJ you were with earlier?”

“That wasn’t a date, you insufferable matchmaker,” Octavia grumbled, though not without a reluctant smile stubbornly pulling at the corner of her lips. “We are simply friends who had agreed to play together, is all.”

“Play what?” He inquired the question seemingly innocent. “Music or Music?”

The resulting punch sent him sprawling across the couch, laughing even as Octavia delivered yet another punch at his exposed sides, winding him. Octavia noticed with some satisfaction that his laughter was much wheezier after that.

“I should have expected that,” he said, still chuckling. “But I couldn’t let the chance pass without taking it.” He rubbed his sides, sitting back up and wincing slightly. “Damn you hit hard. Those martial arts lessons must be paying off.”

“They are,” she replied. “Though my lessons aren’t the only reason, you know—”

“’The Cello and its case are heavy as well.’ I know.”

“You could at least have let me finish my sentence,” she grouched, pouting.

“Never in a million years will I allow you to finish a sentence that is about correcting me!” He announced grandly.

“Not even once?”

“Not once!”

“Thou art evil.”

“Thou art right!”

Octavia sighed good-naturedly, picking up her glass from where she had put it before punching Harpo and took a sip. It was still cold. “What else happened today, then?” She asked after a short pause. “You visited your father, and then?”

“Visited my mom for a lunch, and was found out. I have another crush, she realised. I got teased. Then I threw a donut at her and it got stuck on her horn. I laughed my ass off and then dodged the next three flying donuts.”

“Before she finally hit you?”

“No. Before I ran out of her house and came here.” He laughed then. “You shoulda heard her. The threats she shouted were hilarious.”

“I bet they were. She always had a fondness for slightly crude language, and very strange jokes.” She glanced at Harpo. “I guess that’s where you get it from.”

“Hey. I’m perfectly funny, alright! I’m not weird.”

“Are you sure about that?” Octavia inquired, poking him in the side with a hoof. “Are you absolutely sure?”

He grumbled something unintelligible before sighing and finally conceding. “Perhaps not. After all, I chose to stick with you. That counts for being weird, right?”

“…Touché,” she admitted. “Touché.”

Author's Note

Sorry 'bout the short chapter, but I wanted something out. I haven't written anything in the past month, but I didn't want to just leave you guys hanging. So I spent a few hours writing this today.

I wanted at least a little something to let you guys know that I wasn't completely dead, and while the Internet here in India isn't the best, it's up to the task some of the time.

~~Also, this is entirely unedited. I'll throw it in the~~ ~~Tiger's~~ Editor's cage in a few moments. Hopefully they'll have time ^^

Edits are done!

Chapter 6 - In the (friend) zone

“So how are things going, then, Octavia? Before earlier today I hadn’t seen you for a while,” Harp asked. As he spoke he stood up and grabbed a rag from the kitchen, returning within seconds to start cleaning up the juice he had spilt when Octavia punched him.

“Things are going alright, I’d say. Meeting Vinyl has been a strange experience, to say the least. She’s an enigma, really. Would you believe that she can speak with an accent even thicker than mine?” Octavia chuckled. “I think that’s perhaps the thing about her that has surprised me the most.”

As she spoke Harpo had cleaned up the vast majority of the juice, leaving for the kitchen again to deposit the soaked rag. He returned with some paper towels which he generously applied to the spilt juice on the floor, draining the last of it.

“Her accent, you say?” He whistled, sitting down again and seeming impressed. “When you really go at it you almost sound like that Fancy Pants, but Vinyl had a thicker and heavier accent than that? Damn.” He trailed off, leaning back in the couch in silence. “Do you like her?” He asked then, suddenly.

Octavia was thrown off guard by the question, all but spitting out the juice she had been in the process of drinking. She gulped hard in an effort to get it down without spilling it all, coughing slightly at the end. “Excuse me?” She managed between coughs.

“Do you like her?” He repeated, turning his head to look at her. “And here I don’t mean as in ‘she’s a nice pony’ or anything vague like that, but really like her?”

She put the glass down with a sigh, leaning back in the couch as well, eyes closed and front legs crossed on her chest. “I don’t,” she said, opening her eyes to the ceiling above. “She’s nice, yes, but I don’t like her that way. As it is I want her to be a friend and nothing more.”

“And you’re sure about that?”

Octavia nodded, looking at him through the corner of her eye. “Yes. I’m sure.” She sighed and directed her gaze at the ceiling again. “You should know by now that affection, love, or liking somepony isn’t something that’s born out of mutual interests. Friendship can come from that, but I don’t think any form of relationship stems from only that. So no, I do not like her. I do, however, want us to be friends.”

“Friendzoned~!”

“Shut up, Harpo.”

“If you kiss me.”

“I’ll have to suffer your voice, then.”

“Damn! So close.”

Octavia laughed, glad to be with Harpo again. Truly he was one of her more extraordinary friends, being quirky in every sense of the word, and reveling in it. He was funny, but also highly intelligent, although he rarely showed that side of himself. But most importantly of all was that he was reliable and kind. He was the kind of pony you could go to on a bad day, and he’d help you in whatever way he could; be it to give you an ice cream or lend an ear.

“You know, believe it or not, I’m actually thankful that you’re as stubborn as you are.” She let out a happy sigh, closing her eyes with a smile on her lips. “You helped me a long way. Even with your antics, you’ve done a lot for me in the past.”

“Such as?”

“Been a royal pain in the butt, but a fun one.” She righted herself to sit up straight again. “I don’t know where I’d be today if it weren’t for you.”

“I know where you’d be,” Harpo said, an impish smile on his lips. “With my mother.”

“Of course I would have. If you hadn’t tried to befriend me, then I’m sure she would have, age difference be damned.” She shook her head, amused at the thought, realising that the statement was much more true than she gave it credit for. Harpo’s mother was indeed an odd woman, and was even considered a friend of many other ponies than just those of similar age. If she recalled correctly it was not at all uncommon, for foals barely ten years old to come by for a glass of juice and to talk about their day, or whatever else they wanted to talk about.

She was even known for sometimes making small arrangements and events for the younger ponies in the neighbourhood. At least she did when her popularity with the youngsters become apparent to her. She had thoroughly enjoyed the first time, is what she had told Octavia, and continued with saying that it should be a thing she did every second month. And she did. Octavia didn’t know of a single day where Harpo’s mother had missed the Play Day. She smiled fondly at the memory, remembering the first one she had attended, and how she loathed it.

“Equestria to Octavia?” Harpo waved a hoof in front of her face, a knowing smile on his lips as he did so. “You were gone for several minutes there. Whatcha thinking about?”

Octavia was shaken out of her reverie, blinking rapidly in an effort to clear her mind of the fog the memories had left behind, blocking her view only momentarily. She shook her head, mane whipping around with the rapid motions. She had to focus for short while before she registered what it was Harpo had said, at which she scrunched her nose up in an expression of quiet contemplation.

“I was just thinking about your mother and the play days she arranged once every two months,” she said. “Does she still arrange them? And are they still successful?”

“As successful as ever,” Harpo said, reaching out for his glass of juice only to realise that it was now gone after spilling it earlier. “And I’m still helping her every now and then. Not just with the play days, mind you, but other stuff as well… Shopping, mowing the lawn, cutting the hedge, and so on. You know, stuff old mares usually need help with.”

“She’d kill you for saying that,” Octavia remarked with a poorly hidden smile. “Either that or throw you down Tartarus itself, and then adopt Cerberus.”

Harpo mirrored her own smile, although it was his laughter he attempted to hide. The attempt failed and he let out a loud bout of laughter, clutching his stomach. “T-That sounds exactly l-like her!” He exclaimed, wiping a tear from his eye. He spent another moment snickering before he managed to regain control of himself. “She’d make Cerberus her lapdog,” he continued. “Then she’d take a seat in her throne made of skulls, or something, morbid old lady that she is.”

“Careful, she might hear you.” Octavia poked him playfully, her teasing smile still present.

Chuckling, Harpo leaned back in the couch, abandoning his joking expression in favour of a more serious one, if still light hearted and kind. “That she might. And I’m fairly sure he already has.” He returned Octavia’s poke. “But enough about my old lady. What about you? Got any plans for today? And tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure. Aside from my training tomorrow, and perhaps a few hours practice with my cello then not really. I don’t have any plans. Why do you ask?”

Harpo shrugged in a nonchalant way. “Nothing, really. Just asking to have something to talk about. It’s not like we have an overabundance of topics to chat about. I mean, you obviously don’t want to entertain the idea of you and Vinyl getting together, and I have very little to talk about anyway—Already told you all there is for me to say, after all.”

Octavia gave him a small knowing smile. Try as he might he couldn’t hide that small telltale twitch of his ears every time he told a lie, or at least only a half truth. “You’re doing it again, Harpo.”

He looked up, surprised. “What? What am I doing?”

She pointed at her own ear, flicking it just like he did; like any pony would if a fly was annoying them.

His face fell, ears falling flat against his skull. “Damn that tell,” he mumbled.

“So what is it you actually want?” Octavia continued. “You didn’t just ask for the sake of wanting to know.”

“Well… I.” He was rubbing his hooves together as a colt who had just entered his teenage years would, when asking someone out for a date. “I kind of want to try to learn Martial Arts too. S’not like I want to go around beating ponies up—you know that—But I just, well... “

“Hmm?” Octavia smiled sweetly at him, like one would to a foal when they’re trying to prompt them into telling them something. That said, there wasn’t much difference between Harpo and a normal foal. Only difference was on the outside. On the inside there were very few things about Harpo that most wouldn’t consider childish.

“I want to get into shape. Like, I’m not fat or overweight, but I want to actually get a somewhat good looking body instead of just—” he waved a hoof at himself, a dissatisfied look on his face as he did so “—this. I don’t have the discipline to go running or training myself, but if I have a weekly appointment then I have someone who depends on me to show up, and will be disappointed if I don’t.”

Octavia leaned forward slightly, examining him with a curious gaze. “So you want to work out, is that it?” Harpo nodded. “Well, I have training tomorrow so I could take you with me if you wanted. The fee is a one hundred and twenty bits a month, or seven hundred and twenty bits for a season of six months. You can go with just a pair of shorts, but if you want I could take you shopping for a uniform.”

“Uniform?” Harpo took on an expression of mild confusion. “Why, and what, is that?”

“It’s a two-piece made up of a pair of loose pants, and a jacket which is held together by buttons down the front, and a cloth belt around the waist to signify your rank. They are used by martial artists for practice and tournaments. The colours on, or of, the belt signifies how adept you are at your given martial art.”

Nodding to himself, he stored the information somewhere in his mind for future use. “Alright. And what are the colours? And what colour are you, for the record?”

At this, Octavia smiled. A proud little smile. “The colours, unlike in Karate and such, don’t go from white to black in Kung Fu, with white being the lowest and black the highest, etc. Instead all the belts are black, but your rank is shown by a red stripe on each end of the belt, with one to three stripes: No stripe is equivalent to a white belt in karate, one stripe is yellow and green belt, two is yellow and brown, and three is also brown, although that’s only seniors. The last is where the entire border, or edge, or the sash is red, and that is what you’d usually call Black Belt, which also means that they are considered an assistant instructor.”

“That’s impressive,” Harpo said, a low whistle following. “And what colour are you, then? Green? Blue?”

Octavia chuckled. “Not quite. I’m actually the equivalent of a Black Belt. I’ve trained for somewhere close to nine years, perhaps ten—I can’t quite remember. I’ve been trying to get my first dan, but it’s not easy. I’m currently training to become a Sifu which is a fully fledged instructor, after which I’ll have to train for the ten Dans.”

“Black? Seriously? Wow. That is amazing. I guess I should ask, though, what style is it? I don’t know a lot about martial arts but I at least now that there is more than just one set of techniques and such.”

“It’s a branch of Kung Fu called Hung Gar,” Octavia explained. “It’s been nicknamed Zombie Style by some—but mostly called Tiger and Crane style—because of how rigid some of the movements are. You may end up looking like a zombie, basically, if you practice it at high levels. Granted,” she continued, letting out a short peal of giggles, “not all of the techniques zombify you.”

“So I get to be a zombie ninja? Sweet!”

Rather than deign herself to reply to such a childish idea, Octavia just shook her head amusedly, the smile on her lips having widened just a bit as they spoke. At most she shared her interest in music with what few friends she had, but now she also got to share her training with Harpo. These past two days have been quite good to me, it seems. “So did you want to go shopping for that uniform? We can go get it, then walk about a bit and go for an early dinner if you want.”

“I think I’d like that. It doesn’t cost too much, I hope? I can afford the monthly fee for the training itself well enough, but I’d rather not spend too much money on something if a pair of shorts would be enough.”

Octavia shook her head. “It’s only two hundred bits or so. Perhaps more if you want a really high quality piece.” She took her, now empty, glass and went into the kitchen, quickly washing it and setting it on the counter. When she returned to the room Harpo was already by the door, ready to go.

“We need to swing by my place for my bits first, then we can go down and shop. Sound good to you?”

She nodded. “Sounds good to me.”

The trip down to the main shopping district was an uneventful one. The afternoon sun pelted them from above, unrelenting and unnaturally cheery as opposed to what one would expect. It was as if you could feel the happiness oozing from every particle of light hitting them. Even if it were Celestia’s way of showing the world that she was happy, two ponies with little to no ties to the nobility couldn’t possibly know. At least not when the only ties Octavia had were the few private concerts her agent managed to find for her.

Octavia wasn’t even sure what Harpo actually did for a living. They had been friends for quite a number of years by now, and he had never told her very much about himself. That wasn’t to say that he was an enigma to be figured out, or a total unknown. No, she decided. He was just a normal pony that didn’t talk all that much about himself which, given the circumstances of how they had met, wasn’t much of a surprise. He had focused on her most of all, trying to get her to talk and stop pushing him away whenever he tried to get close.

I guess a better word would be selfless. He doesn’t talk about himself unless asked, but… Curse this curiosity. It’s what almost made Vinyl mad at me earlier. She glanced at Harpo as they walked, making sure to keep one eye on the road and one eye on him. “Harpo?” She asked, earning a questioning glance from the purple stallion. “What exactly do you do for a living? Outside of playing the harp, that is. I don’t think you ever were that much into playing for anything but the orchestra.”

The stallion actually chuckled at that, making Octavia scrunge up her face in confusion. She was about to ask what was so funny when he eventually spoke.

“You don’t know how much an orchestral musician earns, do you?” He asked.

“I gathered it was something around thirty thousand bits a year, perhaps a bit more for those who had played there longer or showed exceptional skill. First Chair’s, and so on.”

Harpo adopted a knowing and, if possible, somewhat amused smile, as if he knew something funny that she didn’t. Judging by the fact that his smile only widened, when Octavia gave him her estimate as to the yearly wages of an orchestral musician, she could say that he did indeed know something.

“Far from it. I actually earn one hundred and thirty thousand bits a year.” He grinned as Octavia’s jaw all but hit the ground. He stopped walking as she did, smiling smugly at her shocked expression.

“That’s fifty thousand more than I do on a good year! How in the name of Celestia’s bloated sun-covered butt are you cashing in that much?!” Octavia was all but shaking in part frustration and disbelief, legs squared against the ground and body rigid as she faced him, almost pushing him against the brickwall behind him. She didn’t even register the shocked gasps coming from the surrounding ponies, elicited from her outburst.

Harpo, on the other hand, just chuckled awkwardly. “Yeah… I earn a bit more than you, but it’s all okay, right? I mean, I actually work to earn it.”

Octavia was flabberghasted, having to shake the stupefied expression off of her face. She carefully brushed a hoof through her mane, trying to regain as much composure as she could with the movement. “Alright… You do. But how?”

The smug smile had entirely evaporated by now, replaced instead by a more reserved smile. “I work for the Royal Canterlot Orchestre. The starting salary is one hundred and twenty thousand bits a year. I’ve played with them for a year by now and earned a little raise.” He spoke in a quieter voice from before, jerking his head forward and resumed their walk, Octavia following. “It pays a lot more than just scraping up solo performances as you’ve done until now. Eeh… No offense intended, of course. Sorry.”

“None taken.” And it was the truth. Octavia wasn’t offended by the unintended jab at her career as it was, but was instead more interested in the prospect of it. By no means vain or greedy, Octavia still enjoyed the prospect of a higher paycheck and a more solid work schedule and, if truth was to be told, was very quickly entertaining the idea of applying for the Canterlot Orchestra.

“Do they accept applications?” She asked suddenly.

“Who?”

“The Royal Canterlot Orchestra, of course. Do they accept applications?”

He rubbed his chin as their walked, his gait becoming somewhat awkward on just three legs. “I can’t say, and I honestly don’t know. You would have to contact the conductor, I think… Or something like that.” He grimaced. “Although he’s very strict and you’d have to be incredibly lucky to have him so much as even consider you. And no, that’s not a jab at your skills, just a warning that he’s a very strict pony.”

“So I should just not bother sending in an applications?” She asked, ears falling back against her head.

Harpo was quick to rectify himself, stopping up to wave his hooves in front of him, an apologetic expression on his face. “Oh. No no. You should apply! It’s just that he only wants the very best, so if you do apply you should be prepared to play your absolute best for an audition.” He fell back down on all fours, resuming their walk. “Sorry if I sounded like I was discouraging you. I didn’t mean to.”

Octavia followed him, ears going erect again at the news. “So just play my best?” A smile dared make its way to her lips. “That should be easy enough… Well not easy, but I should be able to do it without too much of a hassle.” Her smile twisted into a grimace. “I just hope it’s good enough for that Mr. High and Mighty conductor of yours.”

“I’m sure it is,” Harpo chuckled, stopping shortly after as someone caught his attention. “Are those nunchucks?”

Octavia followed his eyes, seeing the same nunchucks he did in the window of a store across the street. “It is, and that is the shop we’re looking for. Come.”

“I want a nunchuck,” he said as he followed Octavia across the street.

“No you don’t.”

“Why not?” He sounded almost pouting.

“Because of that guy.” Octavia stepped into the store, pointing at a young colt trying to wield a pair of nunchucks and only succeeded in knocking himself in the back of his head.

“Point taken,” Harpo murmured. “So what are we looking for?”

“A uniform ,” Octavia replied, nodding at an employee approaching them.

She was an average unicorn mare in every sense of the word, if a bit more muscled than the usual pony you came across. She wore an easy smile and kept her stance relaxed, like someone who knew exactly what they could do. “Good afternoon. Can I help you?”

“Yes. We’re looking for a uniform for my friend here,” Octavia began, gesturing at Harpo who waved at the employee.

“Aha. And what kind of uniform? Judo? Jiu Jitsu? Karate?” This question was directed at Harpo who had just set his hoof back on the ground.

“I, uuh.” His eyes found Octavia’s a pleading look and request for help passing from him to her.

“Just a standard uniform for Kung Fu,” Octavia finished for him. “He’ll be starting training with me from tomorrow, so if you have anything for that?” She let the question hang in the air, patiently waiting as the employee thought it over, undoubtedly going through entire catalogues of information.

“I think I have just what you’re looking for,” the mare said, beckoning for them to follow as she made her way deeper into the shop. They arrived the back end where Octavia spotted several shelves filled with what looked like thick, white robes, and thinner pieces in both black and white

The unicorn mare went over to the shelves and lifted down a package with her magic, presenting it to Octavia and Harpo. “This is a standard uniform kung fu in black. Nothing spectacular or special about it. It’s sturdy and—” she looked Harpo over with a critical gaze, seemingly measuring every inch of him in the span of a single second “—should fit you.”

As the mare spoke, Octavia looked the package over with a gaze at least as critical as the one Harpo was subject to, only restraining herself from reaching out for it through more effort than she cared to admit.

“I think it’s fine,” she said after a while, satisfied with it. “Do you have anything to say, Harpo?”

“I don’t actually know all that much about it,” he admitted, scratching his chin with a hoof. “Honestly, if you say it’s good to go, then I’ll buy it. How much is it?” He added, looking at the unicorn.

“One hundred and ninety bits,” she told them, now leading them towards the register. “It’s not made specifically for grappling, and is just a standard issue. It can withstand some grappling, however, but too much and it will be torn.” She held up a paper bag in her magic, the uniform hovering above it. “Will this be all, or is there anything else you’d like?”

“That will be all,” Octavia said, nodding in thanks. “Thank you.”

“And thank you for coming by. Have a good day,” the unicorn said, giving them a small wave as they made their way out of the store.

“So now what?” Harpo asked as they made their way out onto the streets again, paper bag held in his mouth. He had forgotten his saddlebags.

“I guess we go eat dinner and then head home?” Octavia suggested. She looked at him “Unless you want to do something more?”

Humming through the handles of the bag, Harpo let his gaze travel skywards. “Not sure. I think I’d be okay with just dinner. Where should we eat, then?”

“Let’s go to the Salad Superb,” she answered instantly, turning a corner to bring on the proper way before Harpo even had a chance to reply.

“Alright then,” he said, following her without complaints. “Salad Superb it is.”

Author's Note

*Peeks up from underneath piles of hesitance*
Is... Is it safe to come out? Even after three months of no content?

I'm sorry for not having anything out before now, but it has been hectic the past few months, what with my trip to India and then exams, and then... bleh. I hope this chapter makes up for it.

Also, 10 points for whoever catches the reference :p

Hint: It's from a song.

Chapter 7 - Questions

Author's Note

So... it's been a while, huh?

Yeah, I think the last chapter was released in... April? That's three months ago. Far too long if you ask me. But anyway, I have only released two chapters (three with this) in the last half year, and I have few excuses. I felt overwhelmed with assignments around may and such. Even then I had time to write, but... eh. You get the idea.

Long story short, I didn't feel like I had to energy to properly write something, so I put it off. But we're back now! :D Pretence is back in business, and hopefully with more regular chapters.

But... here it is. Hope you enjoy :twilightsmile:

Chapter 7 - Questions

The rest of the day came and went. Octavia and Harpo enjoyed a pleasant meal with friendly conversation about everything and nothing, the latter of the two ponies couldn’t contain himself when it came to the prospect of the training he and Octavia were to do the next day. More than once his excitement gave birth to a smile on Octavia’s lips, the likes of which one would see on a parent watching their child’s foalish antics.

Their early dinner had been followed by walking around the city for an indeterminable amount of time, the minutes and hours ticking away faster than the two ponies realised. A brief stop to Harpo’s had given him the saddlebags he needed to not walk around with his paper bag between his teeth, allowing his mouth to run its course much to Octavia’s amused chagrin.

Unbidden though the thoughts had come, she couldn’t quite shake what Harpo had asked her earlier. She wasn’t quite sure what, or even who, her thoughts were focused on, but recently she had noticed her mind currently seemed to have a lack of direction. But even then it was much closer to what he had insinuated rather than what he had said. Having mulled over it during several of the long stretches of silence the two had had in that evening, she came to the conclusion that he might think she was lonely. She would gladly admit that friends were not the thing she had the most of in her life, but she wouldn’t exactly call herself lonely.

And even then, who did she see on a regular basis that weren’t Harpo and her agent? Not even her parents or her sister got many visits from her, aside from perhaps once a month, and the occasionally exchanged letters.

Harpo was, as one would call it, an enigma. He rarely spoke outright what he thought, nor made his intentions perfectly clear, and despite his sometimes goofy nature, Octavia had spotted glimpses of an incredible intellect behind the jolly exterior. One could never be entirely sure what he thought or what his goals were, but he always seemed to want to help.

Octavia had rubbed her temple with a hoof and scolded herself for reading too much into things, and it was getting her nowhere. Harpo was a pony she didn’t understand, albeit considered a friend. Sure she had seen that so-called intelligence in him, but who is to say that wasn’t just fool’s luck?

The day after their evening in the city had come and gone as quickly as the former. She had woken up and brushed her teeth, eaten a half a cabbage for breakfast—she hadn’t felt like making anything for herself, so she took the easy way out—brushed her mane, packed her cello and headed for where she and Harpo had agreed to meet.

The two hours they spent training just the basics of hung gar had left Harpo a heaving mess, barely capable of breathing normally. Earth pony though he may be, his fitness was lacking, so much so that even the unicorns who trained there lasted longer than he did. He hadn’t found that very amusing, but Octavia had.

The rest of that day had been spent practicing her cello, and Harpo practicing his harp, the two of them polishing their skills and going over whatever pieces she still felt she hadn’t mastered, Harpo following her lead even during his insistence that she was good enough. That, however, had only spurred her on to practice for another hour to make sure that even those she knew front and back came as natural to her as breathing.

That day had ended with a very tired earth pony trudging home, cello notes ringing in his ears from hours upon hours of practice, or so he had claimed.

Then the next day then came, the day Octavia had been looking forward to.

She was currently on her way toward the theatre where the concert would be held—with a good hour before the show would start—where she would finally see whether or not Vinyl had been telling the truth about her and Melodia not being the same pony. Truth be told she was starting to doubt herself. Had she been too quick to assume? Too quick to come up with an idea and refuse to back down when told she was wrong? The possibility was very much there, but was now a time to back down? Her self consciousness be damned, she had a curiosity to sate and backing down now and admitting to be wrong would be… What would it even be? Would she be seen as indecisive? Afraid? Or just too stubborn for her own good?

It was true that she had been quite adamant on the idea that Vinyl and Melodia had something in common, be it them being the same pony or just being related in some way. And now she was on her way to see what was true. Her lips pursed slightly, a contemplative frown crossing her otherwise gentle face. I suppose it’s time I let go of my silly ideas, isn’t it? A small chuckle escaped her. I’d say it is. She closed her eyes and drew in a breath, letting it out slowly as she opened her eyes again.

Looking back and forth to either side of the intersection she had arrived at, she thought, Left or right… Ah. There it is. She turned left down the road, the domed roof of the theatre beckoning her from a distance.

She found herself within only a score metres of the large, ornate double doors which lead to the theatre proper after only a few minutes. The dark brown of the wood made her feel warmer already, as if she was already seated amongst those new friends of hers, listening to the music being played on the stage. The door was pushed open for her by one of the two doormen, a large earth pony stallion whom she gave a nod in acknowledgement and thanks before heading in.

She came into a medium sized lobby, twin pillars on each side of a small walkway towards a secondary set of doors and, if she wasn’t mistaken, a ticket booth. A chandelier hanging from the ceiling provided ample light, revealing a set of stairs on either side of the walkway, separated from it only by a chest-high rail of bronze coloured metal. The walkway had an air of class and sophistication, but not so much as to be smothering, like the marble and gold-covered halls of the more arrogant nobles of Canterlot.

She let her eyes sweep over it all before she continued onwards, heading towards the second set of doors. A mint green aura covered the door when she neared, opening itself to reveal Lyra and Vinyl standing behind it, a smile on each of their faces. Lyra looked up at the dapper stallion in the ticket booth—which had come into view now that the door was open; located between the doors on the other side of the wall—and nodded at him.

“This is our friend, and here’s her ticket.” Lyra levitated a ticket up to him which he gladly accepted. “Sorry for the inconvenience.” She blushed, grinning sheepishly at the pony in the ticketbooth who simply shook his head with a small smile and admitted Octavia entry.

“You could have just waited for me outside,” she told them and walked up to them.

“I know, but Lyra here—” Vinyl nudged the mint unicorn in the ribs “—forgot all about you until we were already past the doors. But even then we’re pretty early. The doors don’t officially open until fifteen minutes, so that’s why there’s no one here. And, well, Lyra is Melodia’s pianist from time to time so she got us in earlier.”

Octavia hummed lightly, casting a sly glance at Lyra, a teasing smile on her lips. “So you get special treatment, do you?”

“Maybe just a little bit,” she replied, leading them through a set of doors to a massive theatre room; red curtains covering the stage, and rows upon rows of velvety chairs spreading out in front of them.

The room was big, bigger than Octavia was used to. At the very least it was bigger than anything she had performed in, if one discounted what small competitions she had been in when she was younger. But perhaps those had only seemed as big, or bigger, because of the audience. It always does look bigger when the seats are filled, she thought, following after Lyra and Vinyl when they made their way down the aisle.

“Where are our seats, Lyra?” It was Vinyl who asked, breaking Octavia out of her own thoughts and brought her attention back to the two unicorns.

“Here,” Lyra replied, nodding at a row somewhere between the back and the middle. “Even if I’m allowed a fair few things as Melodia’s part-time pianist, I can only get so much. Our seats are all the way over by the other wall.” She gave them an apologetic smile. “I hope that’s okay with you.”

Octavia waved it off with a shake of her head, hoof held in the air to put an end to the apologies. “Really, Lyra. You’re giving us these tickets for free. We can’t very well expect front row seats.” She glanced at Vinyl who was already on her way down to their seats. “And I’m sure she’s thankful as well,” she added.

“She doesn’t show it because she’s ‘too cool’ for it,” Lyra chuckled, following after Vinyl. “But she’s already said her thanks, in case you’re wondering.” She sat down on the seat besides Vinyl who had sat down on the outermost seat, motioning for Octavia to take the one beside her. “But it’s good to know that you like it.”

Vinyl leaned forward then, bespeckled gaze shifting between the two others before settling on the one closest to her. “Hey, Lyra?” She grinned. “Thanks, by the way. It was great that you could get the tickets.” She then leaned in for a quick hug before returning to her seat.

Lyra just rolled her eyes, giving Octavia a smirk. “Monkey see, monkey do. At least you’re a good influence on her. Maybe you’ll end up dating before your estimated time.” The last bit was thrown in Vinyl’s direction who seemed to seize up and gulp as if some deep dark, and most certainly embarrassing, secret from her foalhood had been revealed.

“I never said anything like that!” She retorted. “I just… Eeh…”

“Just go to the toilet while there’s still time,” Lyra interrupted. “You still haven’t gotten rid of the habit of leaving a performance to go to the bathroom. So let’s try to beat it to the punch this time. Now shoo. Potty break for Miss Vinyl.”

Vinyl grumbled something nigh unintelligible which suspiciously sounded like “only once…” and wandered off, heading through the door conveniently labelled with a minimalistic figure of a mare and a stallion.

Octavia was about to just lean back and simply wait for Vinyl’s return when Lyra suddenly leaned towards her, hooves on the armrest and face too close for comfort to Octavia’s. The unicorn smiled cheekily, as if she was aware of something that she thought was a secret.

“So,” she said, that knowing smile widening further, “when are you and Vinyl going to hook up?”

Octavia balked, mouth half open and ears erect, which then laid down against her head. Her eyes rolled almost of their own accord. “Again. Of course.” She rubbed her temple to pre-emptively battle whatever fictional headache was to come. “Why does everypony seem to think that we are going to be dating? I mean… I know I told you about my… orientation—” she moved her hoof in circles in the air “—but that doesn’t mean that I’m going to date her, even if she is plenty attractive.” She let out an exasperated sigh, and leaned back in the chair. She had only been asked the question twice, but it was not a thought she liked to entertain all that much. The prospect of dating Vinyl Scratch was not a terrible one, if one were to judge by first impressions and appearance. She was a nice pony, no doubt, and easy on the eyes, but there was no basis for a relationship. Barely a friendship.

But evidently Lyra was not satisfied with simply letting Octavia battle her imagined headaches. She poked her right between the ribs with the tip of her hoof, right where it hurt, which resulted in one grey cellist flying up from her seat in a manner similar to that of a pegasus taking flight. The glower aimed at the unicorn could have melted steel.

“Why’d you do that?” She asked, rubbing her sore side. “That hurt.”

“I should probably get them filed, soon, yeah” Lyra murmured, nodding in agreement to what Octavia had said, all the while she turned her hoof this way and that way, inspecting it like some sort of fashion model who had just had it filed and polished to perfection.

She set it down on the cushioned seat again and looked to Octavia, that smile back in full force. “You sure about that? You look cute together, you know.” Octavia found herself on the receiving end of another poke from Lyra.

“Be that as it may,” Octavia retorted, halfheartedly batting the offending hoof away, “I have no intentions of dating her yet. I don’t know what the future brings, but I don’t think of her like that at the moment.” She looked towards the scene then, stubbornly refusing to meet Lyra’s golden eyes. She didn’t know where the question had come from—aside from the mare’s overactive imagination—and if she had to be honest it was starting to get annoying. While she expected Harpo to ask questions like those, Lyra’s had come as a surprise.

The next few minutes were spent in silence, with the cellist being the one who enforced it by not paying any attention to the other. But Lyra had other plans. She lightly prodded Octavia in the side—although not in the ribs so as to not annoy her any more—and gave her an easy smile coupled with a knowing look in her eyes. “That’s what it feels like,” she told Octavia.

Despite her insistence on being silent until Vinyl returned she couldn’t quite keep herself from voicing her confusion. She reluctantly tore her gaze from the stage and looked towards Lyra. “What?”

Vinyl twisted the knob to turn off the water, a few pieces of tissue wrapped in blue floated towards her, allowing her to dry her hooves. She looked up from the sink and her hooves, inspecting herself in the mirror. Nothing really seemed out of place, yet she still seemed to pay special attention to, well, everything.

She stepped back from the sink, still looking in the mirror, when a voice sounded from her right.

“My, you really do look an awful lot like me.”

Vinyl turned towards the source of the voice, finding a mare bearing a coat as white as hers, clear blue eyes, and a long mane of cyan blue framing her face. She wore a pretty dress that seemed to accentuate her curves without making her appear sultry or suggestive. It was, no doubt, a work of art. Four layers of alternating colours of blue formed the skirt which fell down her back, covering up her cutie mark and most of her tail. It hugged her body from the hips and upwards, this part a much paler blue than the others, almost white, ending in a torc-like necklace.

Melodia Allegrezza stood by the door leading to the backstage area, an empty glass held in her magic. She eyed the other mare with a curious gaze, almost as if evaluating her before turning to the tap to fill her glass with water.

Vinyl didn’t meet her gaze at first, but did look her way when the other turned to the sink, head cocked to the side. She didn’t say anything, barely moved. Only Melodia seemed to have something to say once she had filled her glass.

“Well, it was nice meeting you, Vinyl. We really do look quite a bit alike.” She smiled and dipped her head, then retreated out of the room, glass in tow.

“The questions. The insistence of people who think that Melodia and Vinyl are the same, twins, or something like that.” Lyra’s smile disappeared in favour of a more serious look. “I get that you’re just curious and all, but Vinyl has been answering the exact same questions for years. Yes, she does look a lot like Melodia Allegrezza, but she is not her! It annoys her just as much—or even more, I’d wager—than it does you. I think she’s been a DJ for something like four or five years by now. During those times you have no idea how many journalists and curious ponies asked her the very same question.”

A shadow fell over Octavia’s face at the words, and the following realisation that she had done nothing but annoy Vinyl. She had been aware that her questions and borderline insistence were probably annoying, but that it was so much? She uncrossed her forelegs and gave Lyra a defeated look, ears limp across her mane. “Sorry,” she finally said. “I guess I was too stubborn to realise.” She let out a dry chuckle and leaned back, letting her head rest on top of the backrest. “Do you think she’ll forgive me?”

Now it was Lyra’s turn to chuckle, only this one was with far more humour, and soon became full on laughter. “Hah! Don’t you worry about that, Tavi. Vinyl is as forgiving as any pony I know. So long as you don’t keep doing it for days on end I’m sure she’ll forgive and forget quickly.” She reached over to pat Octavia’s shoulder.

Octavia turned her head to meet the gaze of those golden eyes again. She opened her mouth to speak but was interrupted by the sight of Vinyl walking out of the door to the bathroom. She raised a hoof to return to wave Vinyl sent their way, alerting Lyra to her approaching as well.

“What took you so long?” Lyra asked. “You were gone for like ten minutes.”

Vinyl grinned at her as she sat down on her seat. “When you gotta go you gotta go,” she explained as bluntly as one would imagine. “So when is it gonna start?” The question was directed towards Lyra who, at the moment, had her eyes fixed on the doors which had now officially opened and allowed the first of the other guests in.

“In about fifteen minutes, I think.” She gestured towards where the first few of the coming audience would stream in from. “The first early birds are here.”

“I don’t know about you,” Octavia said, following the direction of Lyra’s hoof, “but I don’t much fancy playing a worm.” A chill then suddenly went down her spine causing her to look back to the two unicorns. The looks she was met with almost made her cower, so dead were the stares. “What?”

“Tavi.” Lyra held her head between her hooves, muzzled scrunched up in distaste. “That is, without a doubt, one of the worst jokes I’ve ever heard. Please… leave the jokes to Vinyl.”

“Oh come on. It wasn’t that bad,” Octavia said and then, upon noticing the cocky grin plastered across Vinyl’s face, added, “Oh you just shut up.”

Chapter 8 - Are things as they seem?

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

Chapter 10 - Awakening

”Get away from her!” Vinyl growled, her voice thrumming with power born of the immense amounts of arcane power, flowing through her body, arching around her body. She stepped forward resolutely. The ponies assaulting Octavia stopped at her words, some seeming to stop mid-punch. They turned towards her, slowly at first, then quicker as they noticed her. Where some seemed confused—the earth ponies and pegasi in particular—the unicorns’ stood with eyes wide and mouths agape, the first signs of comprehension. Then fear.

“Surge!” One of them called, taking a step back. “She’s Surging!”

The leader of the gang glared at her, a snarl forming on his lips. His head whipped towards the one who had spoken, a mare in her early twenties with a lime green coat and amethyst mane. “She’s just one mare, you cowards. What are you waiting for?!” He shot his hoof in Vinyl’s direction at his last words, eyes wide in anger and spittle flying from his muzzle. “Go get her! She’s a single fucking mare. GO!”

Boosted by the certainty of their leader the thugs started walking towards her, only to be stopped as Vinyl raised her head, her white-glowing eyes fixated upon them. She growled and raised her hoof, slamming it into the ground. A pulsating web of sapphire lines spread from her hoof, branching in every direction and soon covered the ground they stood on, earning confused expressions to spread amongst the other ponies.

With a tug of her mind, Vinyl sent the ponies up into the air, hovering a couple metres above the ground before they crashed back down, knocking the wind out of them, and cracking more than a few bones. The few unicorns that had been quick enough to counter Vinyl’s spell, twisting out its hold mere moments before she would have slammed them into the ground, fell down on unsteady legs, the impact from falling normally, alone, enough to rattle their bones. Only four were not groaning or unconscious on the ground, nursing broken ribs, or regaining their breath, among those being the leader of them, and the other unicorns.

“You’re good, I’ll give you that,” he growled, standing up straight. “But surge or not, you still can’t beat four of us.” He glanced to the side. “Bolster, go get her.” He grinned. “Show her what real magic is about.”

Bolster—the one who had thrown Vinyl earlier—stepped forward, grinning as he lit his horn. He attempted to pick Vinyl up as he had last time, only to find that he couldn’t. A sudden realisation crashed into him as he beheld the rage filled look on the mare in front of him. At this moment, she was many times stronger than him.

“What’s the matter?” Vinyl asked mockingly, stepping forward. “Weren’t you going to show me real magic?” Contrary to the mocking tone of hers, there was no such look on her face. Her lips were set in a snarl, ears flat against her skull, and eyes narrowed dangerously. Sparing him barely a glance more, she sent a wave of force his way, sending him crashing into the wall. Almost too slowly he slid down, landing in a heap on the ground. Unconscious.

A similar fate befell the other two, both of which attempted to fire a series of powerful stun spells. Vinyl stood her ground, facing the spells flying towards her until they… disappeared.

“S-She dispelled them!” One of them stammered, disbelieving.

Vinyl simply cocked her head. “Yes,” she said, and sent both of them crashing into the wall behind them, landing on either side of Bolster. She looked back to the leader, her expression becoming impassive. Uncaring. “And now there’s just you. The good-for-nothing son of a bitch that thought cornering us was a good idea.” She stepped closer, one step after the other all but shaking the ground.

The stallion, looking as angry as a cornered animal could, did what he could to stand his ground. He squared his jaw and stood defiantly as she approached, his lips pressed thin. “You’ll regret that, you bitch. You’re not the only one who can do that parlor trick.” With that, his horn went alight, eyes igniting with the same white light as Vinyl’s. He grinned at her, a vicious, vindictive grin. “You were exhausted before, but I am not. No matter how powerful you are now, it doesn’t matt—”

He was pushed against the wall, blue light surrounding his entire body, holding him aloft. Vinyl looked up at him, her previously blazing horn now simply shining a bright blue. The look on her face, the lack of emotion, taunted him. She cocked her head, a small, provocative, action. ”Surge on command, and yet so weak.”

“You think!” He all but roared, his horn blazing. An immense pressure pushed down on Vinyl, her horn especially. It was like the weight of an entire pony balanced entirely on the ivory protrusion from her head. “Nopony, not even you, can cast spells with so much pressure on your horn!” He spat through gritted teeth.

”Are you sure?” Was all the reply Vinyl gave before she retaliated. Her horn brightened once more, becoming a blazing beacon of power and light. The weight on her horn was lifted, becoming null, before it turned. With her own magic, she pushed back against his spell, slowly, but surely, encapsulating his own horn in the very spell he had attempted on her.

Pain, then abject horror, washed over his face—pupils shrinking to pinpricks as he started shivering. The light of his horn extinguished as pain from the pressure washed over him, flashing from the tip to the base of it, and still Vinyl continued. He was moaning in pain already, the light in his eyes vanishing, mouth hanging open.

”You wanted to rape us,” Vinyl said calmly, increasing the pressure. ”Then you tried to beat us.” The pressure continued to pile on, causing the stallion to writhe in pain, his moans becoming pleas. He begged her to stop, but found himself ignored. ”And then, you tried to KILL MY FRIEND!” She roared the last words into his face, her already thrumming voice almost physically pushing against him.

The stallion, now whimpering, tried to blink away tears, his eyes watering from the sheer pain of the pressure put upon his horn. “Please,” he begged. “Please stop. I-I didn’t mean to I… I’m sorry. Please!”

For all of a second Vinyl looked to be considering, her head tilted ever so slightly, lips pursed in thought. And then…

”No.”

She pushed again, increasing the pressure on the stallion’s horn. Her horn blazed, lighting the dark alley they were in as more and more magic was poured into the small. Accompanying the light were the screams of someone tortured. Relentless, Vinyl continued. She kept going until a crack sounded, and then his horn shattered. Bits and pieces of coloured bone sprayed everywhere, the scream almost deafening.

The light in Vinyl’s eyes receded, as did her magic. The stallion slumped to the ground, glassy eyed and unresponsive. But alive. Turning, Vinyl trudged over to Octavia who still lay prone on the ground. Her eyes were closed, blood still flowing from the knife wound in her side. It seemed to have slowed, at the very least. She’s alive… She closed her eyes, head hanging. Why was she so exhausted? She lay down, not caring for the blood on her coat. The thugs were taken care of, Octavia was alive… She needed to get her to the hospital.

She faintly registered the sound of wings, and hooves hitting the ground behind her. She didn’t look—she didn’t have the energy for it. “Hospital,” she croaked instead, closing her eyes, hoping whoever they were had heard her. “Help.”

“It’s alright,” a voice said. “We’ll help ya.”

A sense of relief washed over her. Help was here.

Then the darkness came.

Everything was silent, except the fluttering of the curtains as a breeze passed through the open window, rustling the leaves on a bouquet of flowers that stood on the table beside the sole bed in the room. In it lay a white coated unicorn, her two toned blue mane spreading like a halo across her pillow. Her eyes were closed, the continuous beeping of the machine besides her bed accompanied by her own steady breathing. A needle and tube connected one of her forelegs to the IV, which dripped a crystal clear liquid.

Rays of golden light peeked over the horizon, spilling warm, orange light into the room and dispelling the night’s darkness and bringing with it the dawn. The return of the light of day would bring a sense of security.

For the longest time, nothing moved in the room. No visitors came, nor did anyone even pass by. It was a place as tranquil as could be. That is, until the sole occupant of the room stirred, the light finally bringing her out of her slumber. Vinyl slowly opened her eyes, the light briefly blinding her and sending spots dancing all over her vision. She blearily looked around, carefully turning her head this way and that. The flowers—lilies—standing on the cupboard beside her bed drew her gaze, earning themselves a tired smile even as she turned her head to the other side of her bed where the IV stood.

At the sight of it, something seemed to click. Memories rushed to the front of her mind, ones of blood, and pain, and fear. Everything, from when they had been cornered, to the point where she felt that stallion’s horn fracture and shatter from the pressure she put on it. The implications of what she had done were shoved to the back of her mind as one memory in particular sprang forth. The image of Octavia lying in a pool of her own blood, breathing shallowly faded to her mind’s eye.

Fear and panic rose up within her. She sat up, looking around frantically as the words formed on her lips. “Octavi-AAGH!” A massive lance of pain elicited a scream from her, forehooves rushing to her head. The simple act of sitting up as quickly as she had irritated her sensitive horn enough to cause such a reaction?

As if summoned by her scream—and they most likely were—two ponies stepped into the room, the indigo mare wearing an expression of concern while the maroon stallion was a mask of professionalism. They both looked Vinyl up and down, then walked closer.

“Please lie down,” the mare said, using her magic to put gentle pressure onto Vinyl’s chest, urging her gently down onto the bed. She proceeded to fluff up the pillows, and check on the IV, humming quietly all the while.

Meanwhile the stallion walked to the front of the bed, giving Vinyl a look somewhere between sympathy and admonishment. He looked down at the notes he’d brought with him, turning a few pages to find the proper entry. When he finally looked back up at her he was back to a look of pure professionalism.

“First, Miss, I’d like to tell you that you—”

“Where’s Octavia?” Vinyl interrupted. “The earth pony I was with. Where is she?”

A flash of annoyance washed across the stallion’s face, but was gone as quickly as it had come. He glanced at the mare, receiving a subtle nod in return. He sighed and, looking back at Vinyl, said, “Your friend is alive, and in no immediate danger. I cannot as of now give you the details, but you can ask her if you want to visit her at some point later. And if she’s awake, of course.” He gave the notes another brief glance before he spoke again. “For now, however, you are our primary concern. I would like to stress that your injury is one I have never seen before - outside of a battlefield.”

Vinyl’s ears perked up, her pupils shrinking slightly at the news. “You have a severe case of Magic Exhaustion, which resulted in loss of consciousness. I would like to stress just how severe it is, Miss. Normally, a unicorn will experience a burnout at approximately ten percent power, their body responding with pain in an effort to warn you that your reserves are low. You, however—” he looked down at his notes, glancing up at Vinyl with as serious a look as he could “—burned yourself out to zero point five percent of your total power. At this point, you have virtually no magic left.”

The news was not quite a surprise to Vinyl. She knew she had pushed herself to the absolute limit, and even beyond it, but to such a degree that she looked more like someone who had been in a war? That was something that surprised her. Even then, a new worry crept upon her. She drew her lips in a thin line and, steeled herself. “Will I ever be able to use magic again?” She asked, meeting the doctor’s eyes.

She was met with a mildly quizzical look, as if he could not quite figure out why she had asked exactly that question. He did, however, answer after having collected his thoughts a moment later. “You will. None of the nerves connecting your horn to your brain have been severed, although some are slightly damaged, which is the cause of your pain. But no, as soon as your magic recovers you’ll be able to use it as you did before. But given the size of your wellspring that may take a while.”

The silence after he had stopped speaking was broken as the door opened, letting in the mare from before. As they had talked she had left, and now brought back something that looked like wasabi, though blue in colour. At the perplexed look Vinyl directed at it, the mare smiled dipping her brush into it. “It’s a sort of healing paste for unicorn horns,” she said, walking closer to Vinyl’s horn and gingerly layered it with the paste. “It’s partly an anesthetic to reduce the pain, and also to help heal the nerves within your horn. Once you’re discharged you’ll be given some yourself, to be used over a couple weeks.”

She covered the last bit of Vinyl’s horn with the paste and stepped back, trying to spot any places she had missed. Satisfied that there were none she put the brush back in the bowl with the paste. “You’ll get the details for how and how much to use when you’re discharged. For now, that should reduce the pain to more manageable levels. Even then, don’t use any magic for the next three days, not even telekinesis. Understood?”

Vinyl nodded meekly, her lips pulling in a thin line. She wasn’t exactly satisfied and would have liked if she could be able to use magic before then, as not being able to do so was usually one heck of a hassle for most unicorns. It usually involved a lot of messy eating, and generally being a slob at everything they did. And even if she would have liked to pretend otherwise, Vinyl was no better as, like any other unicorn before her, she had become far too accustomed to simply set light to her horn and then magic whatever it was she wanted to magic.

“Good. Now, unless there are any questions?” She asked patiently, the maroon stallion going to unplug her from the IV.

“I was wondering,” Vinyl started, glancing down at herself. She had expected bandages almost all over her, but there were none. “What about other injuries? I remember being thrown against a wall pretty hard.”

“You have some bruises, but nothing serious. You’ll probably be sore for a few days, but it’s nothing to worry about. No concussion either.”

Vinyl managed a small smile, looking more tired than relieved at the news. “Thank you… Do you think I could go visit Octavia? Is she even awake?” She asked, briefly giving a nod to the stallion as he left the room.

The nurse shook her head. “I don’t know if she’s awake, but you should be good to visit her. Octavia Philharmonica, right?” Vinyl nodded. “Her room is on the floor above us. Room number 16. There’s an elevator just a short way down the hall here. I suggest you use that.” Having said that, the nurse stepped out of the room, only quickly informing Vinyl that she could pull the string above her bed if she needed anything.

Taking that as her cue, Vinyl shuffled out of the bed, groaning in pain as she landed on the floor. Sure, the nurse had said that it wasn’t anything serious, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt. She took a few seconds to let the pain abate then walked out of the room. She came out into a long hallway stretching far to either side of her. On the left side, however, the opposite side of where she was standing, the wall curved out into a half spherical shape with several chairs and tables, as well as two coffee and tea dispensers each. A few bowls of fruit stood beside them as well.

On her right were only rooms, save for a set of stairs leading up and down, and the promised elevator just on the other side of said stairs. The hallway as a whole was tranquil, with few nurses, doctors, or patients walking to and fro. It was also sterile, and smelled like it. It was never a pleasant smell, though neither truly an unpleasant one. At most Vinyl would say it was annoying, at least to those who associated the smell with hospitals and injury.

Not one of those yet, Vinyl thought as she pressed the button. She patiently waited for the elevator to come down to her, at which point she stepped in and pushed the button for the floor above hers. Once again she had to remind herself not to use magic to press it, instead using her hoof. Old habits die hard, especially those that made everything so much easier. She could only pride herself on the fact that her mother had drilled self discipline into her head from as long ago as she could remember. Everything from keeping the proper posture despite aching hooves, to steadily work on her projects during the time she had, as opposed to rushing it three days before the deadline.

A quiet ’Ding’ signalled that the desired floor was reached. The door opened and Vinyl stepped out, looking up and down a hallway nearly identical to the one below, except that the half-moon seating area was to her right and not her left this time.

“Number 16, number 16…” She slowly made her way away from the seating area, counting the numbers on the doors. Counting down from 30 at the elevator, she found room number 16 halfway down the hall. She put her hoof against the door as if to push it open, but froze before she could put any weight behind it. What if Octavia blamed her for what had happened? She was the one who had suggested they take the shortcut. Worse yet, what if she didn’t even want anything more to do with her after that had happened?

She shook her head angrily. Stop that, Vinyl. You know it wasn’t your fault, and Octavia’s not the kind of pony to blame others for something that’s not their fault. She drew in a deep breath, held it for a short while, and let it out. Having mentally prepared herself, she pushed against the door and slowly made her way inside, biting her tongue as the pain in her side flared up from walking on three legs instead of four.

Inside the room was much the same as Vinyl’s own, except for two more apparatuses. The window in this room was closed, although the curtains were open. The were also a bouquet of flowers on Octavia’s bedside table; lilies, like Vinyl’s own, but purple instead of white.

That left only Octavia herself, and Vinyl would be lying if she said the sight didn’t terrify her. Not only was she still connected to the IV, but a suction tube also connected to her chest from one of the two machines besides her bed. She could only guess what that was for. Finally, there was a thin tube with two extensions in her nostrils, running around her head and towards the final machine in the room, which sounded like a bellow being pumped very slowly—To help her breathe, Vinyl realised.

But despite all of that—even despite the mass of patches and bandages covering Octavia’s torso and one leg—there was one thing that seemed to banish everything else. Every negative thought, every fear, and every bit of doubt. When she looked at Octavia, she was met by a pair of brilliantly amethyst eyes, and a small, barely visible smile, but a smile nonetheless.

She couldn’t help but smile herself as she approached, tears welling in her eyes. “Hey,” she said quietly, reaching Octavia’s bedside. “How’re you feeling?”

To her credit, Octavia smiled a little wider. “Like the princesses took turns bucking me between the Changeling Hive and Canterlot like a pin ball.”

“That bad?” Vinyl asked, chuckling. She fell silent then, her gaze falling. Slowly, she put one hoof on the bedside, hesitantly following with the other. For a while she said nothing, not even daring to meet Octavia’s gaze. Despite their attempts at lighting the mood, it hadn’t helped rid Vinyl of her feelings of uncertainty. Even in spite of her earlier reassurances, she had to know. She had to ask. Slowly, as if the words themselves might betray her, she asked, “You… You don’t blame me, do you?” She kept her gaze firmly on her hooves afraid of what she might see were she to raise her gaze.

For a while Octavia said nothing. Didn’t even move. At some point during her silence Vinyl almost thought she had fallen asleep, but that idea was dispelled when she finally spoke up.

“Vinyl, look at me.” The words were spoken softly, but there was something in them that made them impossible to ignore. She slowly raised her head, finding her gaze locked firmly with Octavia’s. Yet, it wasn’t unkind. Octavia smiled as wide as she could in her exhausted state. “I would never blame you,” she said, lifting her hoof to rest it on top of Vinyl’s own. “I don’t remember much, but I remember a little. I remember what you said to them, and what you sounded like. Plus,” she grinned a little, enough to show the whites of her teeth, “I could never blame you when you have such beautiful eyes.”

Relief flooded through Vinyl, making her entire body sag. It was such a weight taken off her shoulders that she didn’t realise the comment until several moments later. She blinked, raising a hoof to her face, only now realising that she didn’t have her shades on. Another smile found its way to her lips and she dared lean a little closer. “I’m glad you like them,” she said genuinely. “What colour are they? Just to be certain,” she added.

“A beautiful red.”

Author's Note

Here t'is!

This was a fun one to write. I've always enjoyed writing combat, even if it's as one sided as this one, but what really excited me was the later stuff. Can't tell you why, but it was fun :rainbowlaugh:

I hope you enjoy!
Please do comment, as I'll read every one of them even if I don't respond.

And on a little side note!
My editor, Taranasaurus, makes music, too! Mainly dubstep or electronic (I dunno... he'll correct me if I'm wrong), so if that's your cup of tea, go check it out!

Chapter 11 - Confrontation

“What colour are they?” Vinyl asked, smiling down at Octavia. “Just to be certain,”

Octavia, having never let her gaze waver, raised a hoof as if to cup Vinyl’s cheek, but evidently decided against it. Instead she lay back, a content look on her face.

“Would you believe me if I told you that I haven’t shown my eyes publicly to anyone but you and Lyra?” Vinyl asked, never letting her gaze waver. Now that she’d finally let Octavia see them, it wouldn’t do to try to hide them again.

“I suppose I would,” Octavia replied, blinking slowly. “But why?”

Vinyl scratched the back of her head, a thoughtful expression adorning her features. “I suppose,” she started, letting out a sigh, “because I’m a bit self conscious about it? You’ll often see variations of it such as cerise or magenta, but actual red? That’s very rare.”

Octavia nodded as best she could from her prone position, seeming thoughtful as well. She didn’t say anything for a while, not until Vinyl gently poked her foreleg, causing her to finally turn her attention back to the present. “You’re right,” she said. “Celestia has magenta eyes, and my aunt has cerise eyes, always bragged about them.” She rubbed her eyes, yawning. “But crimson like yours? I’ve never seen that.”

“I hope you don’t think less of me for it,” Vinyl continued after a short bout of silence, “Hiding my eye colour that is.”

A snort and a tired chuckle was the response she received, accompanied by a strange look from the bedridden mare. “Now you’re just being silly, Vinyl. No one could fault you for that. It’s just something you chose to do, and it didn’t, and still doesn’t, harm anyone.”

“Unless I’m like that laser-eye guy from the new comic book series that went out last year.”

“Unless you’re like that guy, yes,” Octavia replied with an eyeroll. “In which case I’d be pile of ashes.”

“Leave it to the sick and injured ones to make the macabre jokes,” Vinyl grumbled half-heartedly. She figured it was just an attempt to lighten the mood, or at the very least make light of what had happened the previous evening. But it’s not exactly helping.

“Are you okay, Vinyl?” Octavia inquired after a short while, breaking the silence that had spread between them. “You don’t look good.”

Clenching her eyes tight, Vinyl let out a breath and forced her body to relax; shoulders sagging. “I’m… not. Yesterday night scared me, and now you’re making jokes about it. Well, you were earlier when I had just arrived, but it just feels off, y’know? I half expected you to be haunted by what had happened, moaning about the fact that we had been caught in the first place.”

The smile she was met with was scarier than anything Vinyl could have expected. It wasn’t maniacal or sadistic, or anything else that could be misconstrued as thinking of the previous night’s events as good. No. It was a sad, and understanding, smile. “It’s not that I don’t think what happened was bad, Vinyl, please don’t think that. It’s just that it’s not the worst thing I’ve experienced, you could say. I’m not making light of it, Vinyl, I’m just not as shaken by it as one would expect.”

A sense of horror and dread rose within Vinyl with each word Octavia said, ever growing until she sat with an expression of equal parts anger and pain. Something worse than being nearly raped and killed? It was painful just thinking about it, and near rage inducing to think that someone could have done something so horrible. She sat with wide eyes and mouth open, tears almost welling in her eyes.

“W-What? Who?” Her eyes fell to her own hooves and, in a small voice, she added, “why?” She was brought out of her stupor by Octavia’s hoof touching her shoulder, causing her to look up. This time she was met with a comforting smile, albeit surrounded withby a sense of sadness.

“We all have our secrets, Vinyl. This one… Maybe some day, but not today.”

“You sure?” Vinyl asked, caught between hopefulness and fear. If it was big enough to keep a secret, then she wanted to help.

“No,” she said, closing her eyes, “I don’t. Or rather, I can’t. Just trust me on this one.”

A near damning amount of curiosity warred with the need to obey Octavia’s request. As much as she wanted to, Vinyl couldn’t bring herself to pry. Not only would it be rude and insensitive, but almost cruel in its own way. If it had hurt her to the point where she refused to even talk about it… Vinyl shuddered, a chill coming over her. No, she decided, she wouldn’t pry. If Octavia didn’t want her to know then she wouldn’t risk ruining their still budding friendship just to sate her curiosity.

“I promise,” she said at length, her promise allowing a small amount of happiness to creep into her expression. Octavia want to look at her again, a ghost of a smile tugging at the her lips. “I won’t pry. If you want to tell me at some point, I’ll be here. But until then, I’ll leave the matter alone.”

“Thank you. It means a lot to me.”

“Anytime,” Vinyl quietly said, leaning down to give Octavia an affectionate, if careful, nuzzle.

Octavia returned it as best she could, but was forced to lean back into the pillow shortly after. She let out a heavy sigh, eyes closed, and looked almost asleep for a while. It wasn’t until Vinyl gently called out to her that she opened her eyes, giving the other a wan smile.

“Tired?” The unicorn asked.

A yawn interrupted Octavia’s attempted reply, so she nodded instead. “Yes.” She looked towards Vinyl, blinking. “I’m glad you chose to visit me, but I would like to sleep some more if that’s okay with you.”

Nodding, Vinyl stepped back from the bed, giving the room one last look before she headed for the door. Before she was gone entirely, however, she shot one last look over her shoulder, asking, “Anything you need before I head out?”

“No thank you. I just need to sleep.”

And then, with a wave, she closed the door behind her. Before she would jump back into her bed and sleep everything off—the lingering soreness from her bruises especially—she wanted to get something to drink first. The quarter-spherical communal room came to mind just as it came into view. Vinyl immediately headed towards it, taking care to remember to use her hooves to pour the water, and carry the plastic cup between her teeth.

Wiggling her way into one of the plush covered chairs, she let out a sigh and took a sip of the water. Looking out the window she could see the sun approaching its zenith, yet still being a ways off. She would estimate to time to be around nine O’clock, meaning she had spent at least an hour in Octavia’s room, probably more. Well, not like it mattered. She had assured herself that Octavia was well, or about as well as one could expect given the circumstances, but it was enough to satisfy Vinyl for the time being.

Setting the cup on the table, Vinyl snatched an apple from one of the trays, contentedly munching on it until nothing but the core was left. Throwing both it and the empty plastic cup into the trashcan, Vinyl headed down to her own room, so deep in thought that she didn’t notice the mare standing outside her room before she almost bumped into her.

“Vinyl!” Lyra exclaimed, relieved. Her entire body sagged in much the same way, losing some of the pent-up fear and panic. “I only just arrived, but you weren’t in your room. I didn’t hear about it until I was called by your parents.”

Though the exclamation and subsequent, albeit short, barrage of information stunned Vinyl at first, she managed to come out the other side alive. “Don’t worry, Lyra. I’m fine.” She turned to the door, pushed it open, and headed in. “I was visiting Octavia, she’s on the floor above this one, room 16 if you want to visit her, too.”

Lyra nodded, looking as if she mentally wrote down a post-it note to remind herself of it later. “How is she?” She asked a short while later, when Vinyl had managed to climb up into her bed.

“Not good, I don’t think, but she’ll make it.” The look on her face must have been a sad and worried one, for Lyra did not looked convinced. It was only for so long that Vinyl could endure that look. “Okay, she’s… fine, I think? She says she’s fine, but the way she looked… I can only imagine how painful it must’ve been for her. And not only that, but she said that it wasn’t the worst she’s ever been through.” She let out a shaky breath. “I’m worried, Lyra. A lot. I don’t want to think about what shit it was she went through to make this ‘not so bad’, but at the same time I can’t stop!” She took a deep breath, visibly trying to calm herself. Then asked in a quieter voice, “Is it bad of me for wanting to find out even when I promised not to pry? Even if the reason for that is because I just want to help. If I even can.”

Vinyl met Lyra’s golden gaze in silence, her lips pressed thin and ears wilted. The look of disapproval on her friend’s face said more than words could. It wasn’t the fact that Lyra seemed dissatisfied with something that made Vinyl squirm, but the fact that she looked far more like a mother about to scold her child than a friend disapproving of something.

She look exactly like her own mother would have.

Silence reigned as Vinyl fought to not avert her eyes, Lyra calmly meeting the gaze as her disapproval melted away to a far amicable expression. It still wasn’t uplifting.

In the end, Vinyl could no more stand the impromptu staring contest and, straightening up, asked, “What?” Her voice was far from as confident as she would have liked, but it looked to be enough for the other unicorn.

“You’re rushing to conclusions,” Lyra replied, finally sitting down beside the bed. “You said you promised not to pry?” Blue hair bobbed as Vinyl nodded. “So don’t. Octavia doesn’t seem to worry about it, so you shouldn’t either. And even if she doesn’t want to talk about it, doesn’t mean it’s still a problem.”

She was forced to agree. She had promised not to pry, and so couldn’t help. If Octavia wasn’t going to talk about it, then… “I trust her.”

Lyra tilted her head slightly, a look of confusion washing over her face. “You trust her? What exactly do you mean?”

“I mean that I trust her to be able to make the decisions that are best for her. If she is no longer haunted by whatever happened, then I will trust her to have gotten past it. Does that make sense?”

A thoughtful look replaced the confusion, Lyra’s hoof rising as if she was about to object. She shook her head, dropping the hoof. “No, you’re right. It does make sense.” She stepped closer until her chest pressed against the edge of the bed, her eyes roving over Vinyl as if analyzing every inch of her body. “But what about you?” She asked, rising up to stare intently at the caste-like material surrounding Vinyl’s horn. It had hardened slightly, becoming solid but not much more so than it could be cracked by tapping it against something. “You don’t look too worse for wear, but—”

“I’m fine,” Vinyl interrupted, sounding exasperated. “I’m just magic exhausted and a bit bruised. It’s nothing to worry about.”

Lyra was not convinced. “Percentage?” She demanded, golden eyes unflinching. When Vinyl didn’t answer, her lips once again a thin line, she poked her hard in the side which elicited a yelp of pain. “Percentage?” She asked once more in a voice that brooked no argument.

Much as she had wanted to, Vinyl couldn’t deny her. Lyra had been a friend for years, and had constantly been the one to worry about her whenever she got reckless and used too much magic on the light shows or other. She opened her mouth, preparing to speak… She’s going to kill me, Vinyl thought, grimacing.

“Vinyl.”

Groaning, she resigned herself to her inevitable fate. “It was… zero point five percent.” She quickly clenched her eyes shut and forced her ears down in preparation for the expected tirade.

Silence.

Slowly Vinyl let her eyes open and ears stand up again, peeking out at Lyra from underneath her lashes. She was met not with angry looks or disappointed frowns, nor with harsh words that she was reckless or that she had almost crippled herself for life. No, she was met with a look of surprise.

“How?” She asked breathlessly. “At ten percent it starts to hurt, at five most ponies are said to faint from the pain!” Her eyes flicked up to Vinyl’s coated horn, then back, concern now evident in every facet of her expression. “The nerves?”

“I was lucky,” Vinyl breathed, falling back into her pillow. Lyra was saying about the same the nurse had, but it was only now that her friend pointed it out that she realised just how bad it had been, despite the doctor and nurse telling her that she looked more like someone coming in from a battlefield. “Some damaged, but none severed.” She pointed at her forehead. “Hence the rubber-horn.”

“I reached Exhaustion once, too,” Lyra commented. She had let her head rest on the pillow, staring at the bland patterns of blue and white on the linen. “It felt like someone was hitting my skull from the inside again and again, and that was only at about nine percent.” She sounded melancholic as she spoke. “What it would have felt like to you.”

It would have been a flat attempt at consolation regardless of the person or the situation, but nevertheless Vinyl reached out to gently pat Lyra on the shoulder, rubbing her hoof up and down gently as she could. “Don’t worry about it.” She offered a smile. “The stuff on my horn acts as an anesthetic. It’s still a little sore, and I can’t use even the tiniest amount of telekinesis for another three days, but I’m managing.”

It helped, at least a little bit. Lyra seemed smitten by Vinyl’s assurances, although there were still lingering shreds of worry in her eyes. Time, however, should work its own magic and dispel those, too. The mint green unicorn nodded after a while, trying a tentative smile. “I believe you,” she finally said while raising her head off of the bed. “You’re a big filly, after all, and can take care of yourself.”

“You better.” Vinyl offered a small grin before letting it fall. “But… yeah. I’m just a bit worried, y’know? It’s not a very comforting thing to hear the morning after you’ve both been assaulted.”

“I getcha.” Lyra, having climbed up into the bed, wrapped one leg across Vinyl’s shoulders, pulling her a little closer. “But there’s something else I’ve meant to talk to you about for, oh, about five minutes now?” That earned the lyrist a quizzical look.

“And what exactly is that?” Vinyl inquired, sounding skeptical.

Lyra smiled in way that could only be described as impish, and not unlike the way Discord did as well. It, however, was only temporary, as the way it quickly faded told Vinyl that it wasn’t just a joking matter, but something more serious.

“It’s the way you’ve been talking about Octavia, really. You’re very new friends, so to speak, and you’re already talking about ‘helping’ her with her issues, whatever they may be. You’re a good friend, Vinyl, someone with occasional moments of altruism, but this goes beyond that. This isn’t just you being a good friend, is it?”

She didn’t reply immediately, for how could she? She had just reacted in the way she felt was the most natural; instinctively. Octavia was hurt, so she was worried she blamed her, and when she’d said that it wasn’t the worst she’d been through, it was only natural to want to help with that, too, right? It wasn’t wrong, after all, to want to be the kind of pony others could depend on. She said as much, which only made Lyra shake her head amusedly.

“Did you ever think that, whatever happened to her back then, was just another accident?” Lyra asked, receiving a grunt from the DJ. “Vinyl, I’m gonna ask you something here, and I expect you to be honest with me.”

“I will, I guess. What’re you gonna ask me?”

Drawing in a breath, and letting it out, Lyra seemed to compose herself before, finally, asking. “What do you honestly think of Octavia?”

“What do I think?” A simple question, really. What did she think of Octavia? She was kind, pretty, and willing to put herself in harm’s way for the sake of others. It didn’t take long for Vinyl to know the answer, at which point she said, “She’s a nice pony, a good friend.” She shrugged. “That’s really all there is to it, I guess.”

Once more, Lyra shook her head, though this time it wasn’t out of amusement. “I don’t think you’re being entirely honest here, Vinyl.” She removed her arm from across Vinyl’s shoulders, position herself so that she faced her as opposed to sitting beside her. “Let’s face it, you’re not exactly a social butterfly, right? In spite of your fame and club-gigs, you aren’t very good around other ponies. Sure, you can talk to them and have pleasant conversations, and even convince others that you’re truly enjoying their company. But truth is, Vinyl, you don’t have all that many friends. Five, six true friends, perhaps, and several dozen acquaintances. And that’s not to mention how efficiently you avoid the media whenever they think that you’re Melodia. Again.”

Vinyl swallowed hard. Loathe as she was to admit it, Lyra was right. Her friend wasn’t done, however.

“And then Octavia shows up, doing exactly what so many other ponies have done before, and insisting that they think you’re Melodia. If there’s anything that makes you annoyed with people, it’s them thinking that you and her are the same person, long-lost twin sister, or something like that… But Octavia you don’t push away. You invite her to a concert with Melodia, and then you go home to dinner with her.” Lyra finally stopped to breathe, rubbing her forehead as if it would make everything make sense. She eventually sighed and grimaced, though she didn’t exactly looked displeased with Vinyl, there were hints of confusion and uncertainty, and perhaps hope?

“You’re too quick to jump to conclusions, Vinyl,” Lyra continued. “This isn’t like you. I’ve never seen you this insistent on helping someone despite not even knowing if what happened to them was a simple accident, nor wanting to spend so much time with them. So, tell me, Vinyl, what exactly do you think of Octavia?”

With every word Lyra had said, Vinyl seemed to have sunk deeper and deeper into her pillow. Oh, she knew that she had a crush on Octavia, but she’d been unaware of just how bad, or big, it was. She had assumed that it was just a matter of her being attracted to the cellist, and not so blinded by puppy love as to act very nearly irrational around her. It had taken Lyra pounding her with the truth for her to realise how strange she’d been acting, and she had to admit that she was thankful for it. At the very least, it could keep her from making any mistakes… hopefully.

Lyra was still waiting for Vinyl to answer the question, and the growing silence was slowly making her impatient, it having stretched to the point where she doubted that Vinyl had any intentions of even answering the question.

In the end, however, Lyra’s waning patience paid off. Vinyl let out a breath and, finally, answered. “She’s a good friend, as I said before, but that’s not all. She’s nice, pretty, and I actually like her. Not just as a friend, but more than that. I won’t claim I love her, but I certainly have a crush on her.”

For perhaps the first time that day, Lyra looked content, if not actually happy. Vinyl could only guess, but she somehow expected that the reason was her being honest.

“That wasn’t so hard, was it?” She asked, returning to her previous sitting place beside Vinyl. “So you have your eyes set on that sweet little piece of ass, then. What’re you gonna do about it?”

“She’s a pony, Lyra, not a donkey,” Vinyl replied dryly, only belatedly realising what Lyra had meant. The snickering unicorn beside her certainly didn’t help matters. “Oh for the love of…”

Author's Note

Right... this chapter is delayed by... a lot. 2 months? Fuck...

I've really got no excuses, except that the first version of this chapter sucked. Bad. So it was a complete re-write which as now been approved by my editors. But after that it was simply a matter of not getting my shit together and getting the chapter written.

So, anyway, here it is. I hope you all enjoy ^^

Interlude 1 - Doorbells and Flowerbeds

Author's Note

Hello guys!
My wrists are still... in a bad place. I'm starting to consider if I may need a surgery to really get rid of it. I hope not, but I refuse to live a life in pain.

That being said, I didn't want to leave you all with nothing, so here's a small thing I put together at a point where I could write comfortably. It is considered Canon, for all intents and purposes.

Enjoy!

Interlude 1 - Doorbells and Flowerbeds

Dear Ivory Rose and Chime

Thank you for writing, and sorry for not writing in return. It was not because I was busy, but simply because I had forgotten about it. Our last exchange of letters happened several weeks ago and I simply forgot about it. My apologies.

In a different note, I haven’t found a fillyfriend for myself—regrettably. Romance isn’t really that important to me at the moment, but I still do miss having somepony to share a bed with. Sleeping only, Mother; not everything has to be about sex you gutter-brain.

But no, I don’t have a fillyfriend. On the other hand, however, I have made a new friend lately. Her name is Vinyl Scratch. She is very friendly, if a little odd every now and then. I do like her, though, as she somehow makes me smile without even trying.

I’m sure you remember Lyra from my university time. I didn’t talk much with her then, but I did a little. I met Vinyl through her, as I came across her mother during a concert by Melodia Allegrezza, and while I didn’t know who she was to begin with I soon found out. After the concert she led me backstage where she introduced me to Lyra. We talked for a bit before she invited me out to a club—yes, I went to a club. You can tease me about it when I visit next—where she introduced me to Vinyl Scratch.

She was, as I said, kind. The night was definitely fun, and I did enjoy it. The next day we also met up and practiced together—she’s a musician, too—and I realised that music isn’t just wooden instruments with strings and bows, but can also be made with electronics. Strange, I know, but it was an entertaining day.

We ended the day with a trip to a nearby café where we had something called a red salad. I should see if I could get the recipe and give it to you; it’s really good. Sadly, she had to go early as a friend of her’s got hurt.

I think that’s about all I have to say. I’m looking forward to hearing from you—

“—Love from your Little Filly, Octavia.” Ivory Rose finished and looked up from the letter, chuckling as she shook her head. “Sounds a lot like our little girl, eh, Chime?”

The pale blue—almost lavender—pegasus mare sitting across from Ivory met her smile with one of her own, brushing a lock of cornflower yellow hair out of her hair. They were sitting on opposite sides of their kitchen table, reading the much-awaited letter their daughter had sent them. It had been, much as Octavia pointed out in her message, weeks since they had last communicated, and so it had been with much excitement that they found a reply in their letterbox earlier that day. “It does. Though I have to wonder… I’m not the only one who’s not entirely sure that she’s telling the entire truth with this Vinyl, am I?”

Ivory Rose—an ice-blue pegasus mare with a mane and tail of a few shades darker—looked down to read the part where Vinyl was mentioned once again. An even wider smile than before spread across her lips, the morning light almost blinding Chime as it reflected off of the other’s teeth. “Oh, yes it does.” She looked up at her wife through her lashes, the smile still present. “Octavia never went to a club, not even when Harpo bugged her about it a couple years ago. Takes a special kind of lady to catch our filly’s attention like that.”

“Couldn’t agree more. What about that red salad, though? Sounds… interesting.”

Ivory looked pensive for a moment, placing the letter on the table again. “Caesar salad properly stabbed and covered in ketchup?” She suggested, for which she was rewarded with a judgemental glower.

“Of all the things…”

The pale-blue mare had not the decency to look apologetic, instead offering a completely unrepentant grin. “That’s what you married me for, Ding-Dong.”

The glare Ivory received could have melted steel. “I told you not to call me that.”

“But it’s a-door-a-bell!” Ivory Rose insisted, making an attempt at the puppy eyes.

Unfortunately for her, the only one who had ever shown herself capable of utilizing that skill to any effect against Chime was Octavia, and then only because she had been utterly adorable as a child. A fact she was quickly reminded of when the flyswatter came crashing down on her snout, making her flinch back more in surprise than pain.

“Ow.”

“And that’s what you get for using that horrible nickname of yours, Rose,” Chime said smugly, leaning back in her chair with as self-satisfied a smirk as she could manage. “But that aside. What do you think of Vinyl? She sounds nice.”

A nod. “She does. Maybe someone who can make Octavia break out of her shell? You know she’s always been rather selective with her friends. Harpo is an exception to the rule, but… yeah.”

A few moments of pause followed, the both of them looking out their window and into their garden; a rather modest affair with a few flowerbeds and a simple lawn, separated from the house proper with a stone tiled terrace. A few birds flew by, a few landing amidst their flowers to pick at the ground.

Chime was the first to break the silence, a thoughtful look on her face that soon became a more hopeful one as she glanced down at the letter, and then back across the table. “We should visit her soon, shouldn’t we?”

Ivory, meeting her wife’s eyes, smiled once more, and nodded. “We should. But—” she raised a hoof, as if to make a very serious point. “I get to press the ding-dong.”

Chapter 12 - Healing.

Things had changed, as they were wont to do. It was not a bad thing by any means, but it was unavoidable.

Vinyl's discussion with Lyra had brought an undeniable truth to light, one that she reveled in, but dreaded. She had feelings for Octavia. She cared for her, worried about her and, above all, wanted to be there for her. It was nothing more than a crush at this point in time, but that didn’t make it any less real.

Lyra's words had forced Vinyl to confront her own feelings, but this was not the only thing to force change. What had happened a few days ago was among the most jarring things she had ever experienced. Fame and fortune never came without a prize: Overzealous fans, the occasional item thrown at her during a play, or thieves thinking her home a more enticing target. These were most often motivated by feelings that were understandable, if confusing. What she and Octavia had experienced, however, was something wholly different—malicious even. There had been no motivation for it beyond pure sadism and lust.

They had been nothing short of lucky. Not only had there been witnesses to see them defending themselves, thus avoiding any legal complications, but they had gotten away in spite of being severely outnumbered. Vinyl grimaced as the memory of power came to the forefront of her mind. A Surge could only do so much. It allowed her to go beyond her boundaries, but against such numbers it was never a certain victory, not to mention to risk she took as she allowed it to take over. That was not even taking into account the other unicorn, one of very few who had taught themselves to enter a Surge at will. It was a thing that rarely ever came up, but now Vinyl realised just how lucky—how privileged—she had been. Had she been a weaker unicorn, the chances of getting away that day would have been far less.

She and Octavia might have died if not for luck. Sheer, dumb luck.

It was a stark reminder that some ponies didn’t care how rich she was, or how high on the music charts she were. There would always be some ponies who didn't give a rat's ass about anyone but themselves. Those were the same that only ever interacted with others if they could gain from it.

It was with those thoughts swirling in her mind that Vinyl sat on her couch, looking out the window at an overcast sky. The cast on her horn had been removed two days beforehand, when she and Octavia had been discharged. They had spent most of their days in the hospital together, chatting and playing the occasional board game, and while the atmosphere between them had been friendly, there was a tension. Octavia had felt it, too, and had asked if there was anything Vinyl wanted to talk about.

She had, of course, said that there wasn't. What could she say? Tell her that she loved her and ask if she wanted to be in a relationship? The unicorn snorted. Don't be ridiculous, Vinyl. You weren't raised to be a brute. You know about tact and timing. No. She couldn't just ‘blurt it all out’. It wouldn't have been fair for Octavia. She had been through a traumatizing event, just as Vinyl had, and putting her in the spotlight like that would not be fair in the slightest.

"So what do I do?" She said out loud, taking a long sip from her coffee and reveling in the silence that followed. The answer was both obvious and infuriatingly elusive. The easy part was the knowledge that she had to confess if she wanted it to go anywhere. No confession equals no possible relationship. The hard part, however, was figuring out when. That she and Octavia were friends was undeniable at this point in time. However, she had seen even the most tenacious friendships crumble just days after a rejection. If she went to her now, and confessed her feelings, could their friendship survive the same? More to the point, would it come off as desperate so shortly after the accident? As it was she treasured what they had, and didn’t want to risk it. Would it be better to wait until their friendship was stronger, or should she do it now, when there might still be some novelty to make her look more appealing in Octavia’s eyes?

She watched as a couple walked by her house, the stallion wrapping a wing around his companion. Even from the second story, she could still see their lips move, as well as the laughter that made their entire bodies' shake. The sight brought a small smile to her lips. They looked happy, just talking to each other. It was exactly the kind of thing she hoped to achieve one day, to be able to just walk side by side with someone, enjoying their company.

They look like such good friends, too, Vinyl found herself thinking. Is that what I should aim for? The two of us becoming friends? The words had barely formed in her mind before she felt like smacking herself. She set her cup down before the urge became too strong, a grimace marring her features. Those words made it feel like she was attempting to manipulate Octavia into something. "Fuck sake, man, that's not right!" She exclaimed, rubbing a hoof down her face. She wasn't manipulating Octavia, when the right thing to do was to try to actually become her friend first... right? It would let her get to know the other mare better, and help her figure out if her crush was something that could become something more solid and long-lasting.

Not only that, but it will allow Octavia the time to find out more about me, and give her a better... frame of reference—I dunno—for deciding if I am someone she could ever end up liking. She groaned and let herself fall back into the couch, staring up at the ceiling. It feels wrong to think it, as if the friendship is just a means to a selfish end, but isn't it the right thing to do? It's not as if I don't want to be her friend—I want that, too—but just... you know what? Screw you, thoughts. I'm not manipulating her! I'm just someone trying to build a friendship. And if it becomes something more? Well, then that's what happens.

She groaned and stood up, glancing briefly out the window again before moving to her bathroom. The sight of her own face greeted her as she stared into the mirror. Opening the faucet she splashed cool water in her face, hoping to wash away the buzzing thoughts that seemed insistent on driving her mad. Her only solace was knowing that they would go away at some point. Puppy love was not forever, and it wasn’t the first time she had experienced it. But knowing that did little to nothing to lessen the annoyance she felt.

She splashed another bit of water in her face and closed her eyes, focusing on the droplets falling from her soaked bangs and muzzle.

Drip

She was in love with Octavia. That much was undeniable. The butterflies in her stomach, and the tingling feeling all over whenever she let herself imagine it.

Drip

Deep breath. Exhale.

She hoped for something to happen. But she would not let herself be consumed by it. Octavia was a pony with a mind of her own, not something to possess.

Drip

Octavia was her friend right now. She wouldn’t jeopardize that.

So what would she do, then?

Continue as I have been, she decided and opened her eyes, smirking at her own reflection. She levitated a towel over to dry her face, taking care to return her mane to its almost spiky style, and nodded in approval once she had finished.

She stood there for what felt like the longest time, thinking over her decision. It was easy to realise, once she gave herself a little time to think about it. It wasn’t some riddle wrapped in an enigma, nor a great mystery that would’ve befuddled even the greatest minds Equestria had to offer. No, the answer was as simple as lying in one’s bed. Almost literally.

“I won’t do anything,” she said, giving her own reflection a little grin. If things were to happen, they would happen. She would not purposefully pursue something when she knew nothing of Octavia’s thoughts on the matter. Maybe one day, she’d feel sure enough to ask. But for now, she would continue as she had. She lifted her hoof and pressed it carefully against the mirror, giving herself a gentle hoof-bump. “Good job for actually thinking things through for once. Not like la—” She forced her jaw shut and put her hoof back on the ground. She met her own, suddenly wistful, gaze. She forced it away and smiled at herself. “Yeah. Good girl.”

“Are you sure you’re fine, Octavia?”

“Yes, Harpo, I’m fine.”

“You say that, but are you? Is the treadmill too fast? Should I make it go slower?”

“I hardly even have to canter here. In fact, your persistence is the only reason I’m not going faster!”

Harpo scoffed. “And for good reason! You were discharged from hospital how many days ago? You were told to take it easy.”

Octavia sighed and pushed the stop button on the treadmill, her gait slowing as the machine did. “I know what my doctor said,” Octavia told him, giving him an unamused stare. “And I also know that I’m fine. The wound barely hurts anymore, and I can move around fine on my own. And what’s more; I don’t want to be helpless like that again!”

Harpo grimaced, visibly taken aback by the forcefulness of her words. “I know you are, but also know that you aren’t invincible. I worry about you when you are like this.” He took a step closer, looking her in the eyes, despite her elevated position. He pointed to her bandages “Your wound isn’t healed yet, and it still hurts—don’t give me that look, I hear you grunting and grimacing.”

“It’s healed well enough,” Octavia said insistently. She pushed the ‘Start’ button on the treadmill again, keeping it at a simple trot. “And I might as well exercise. It’s not like I can go to the dojo yet.”

“You tried to go just after you and Vinyl were discharged, Octavia,” Harpo said, momentarily turning away to rummage through the bag Octavia had brought, talking all the while. “I had to physically keep you from going, to avoid mucking up your health.” He turned around with a bottle of water in his hoof, and set in the holster on the treadmill. “Look, Octavia, I’ve seen you at your best, and you know I’ve also seen you at your worst. And right now I’m worried about you. You’re a bullheaded one if you wanna be, but this is a time where being bullheaded will get you hurt.”

Octavia pretended not to hear him. At first, anyway. The problem was that he just didn’t understand. She had been hurt, stabbed in the side, and Vinyl had done something that had cost her the use of magic for several days. It would be like a—she stopped the treadmill and took the water bottle, popping it open and draining it in a single mouthful. It would be like a pegasus losing their wings.

Harpo looked down at her with concern in his eyes, head tilted to get a better look at her bandaged wound. “Something the matter?” He asked, shifting his eyes back to hers. “Does it hurt?”

She shook her head and looked elsewhere, unwilling to meet his gaze at the moment. “No,” she said, “it doesn’t. At least…” she looked back to him, her expression now more mellow than moments before. “I don’t like it,” she finally conceded. “I don’t like how everything went… went to shit in that alley. I don’t like how Vinyl was the only reason I even got out of it alive. I don’t like that she even had to risk permanently losing her ability to use magic to save us, I—”

Harpo held up a hoof, silencing Octavia mid-sentence. “That’s not how a Burnout works,” he said lowering his hoof. “It’s more like your body. You just get exhausted and need to rest. It’s not different from physical exercise in that way. Trust me, my mum’s a unicorn, after all.”

Octavia rolled her eyes, silently conceding to his point. “Even so, that’s not my point! My point is that I was helpless then. I couldn’t protect myself, and I couldn’t protect Vinyl!”

“Octavia,” Harpo said softly. “You single-handedly beat three of them into concussion, and even broke two ribs of one of those guys.”

“But it wasn’t enough!” She screeched.

The words had barely left her before her entire vision became purple, Harpo wrapping his legs around her neck and holding her tight. The few other patrons in the gym had turned to stare at her outburst, but slowly turned back to their own exercising.

Octavia felt the sting of hot tears in her eyes. Her vision blurred, and teeth gritted in a mix of anger and frustration, she slowly returned the embrace. She pressed her face into his neck, using his coat to dry her eyes. She couldn’t let other people see her crying.

“It’s alright, Octavia,” Harpo said at length, running a hoof down her uninjured side, and pulling away a little. He smiled down at her, placing both hooves reassuringly on her shoulders. “And yes, it was enough. It—” Octavia opened her mouth to say something, but a hoof to her mouth stopped her in her tracks “—No, Octavia, please. If you’ll listen, I will remove my hoof, okay?” Slowly, while looking entirely unconvinced, Octavia nodded. She said nothing when he put his hoof back on her shoulder, but looked expectantly up at him, her thoughts written clearly on her face. Drying tears still lingered in her eyes, but for the moment she had calmed.

Harpo sighed, but didn’t comment on her silent defiance. “I may be an amateur at your kung fu thing, Octavia, but I’m pretty sure that there’s a thing where you fight multiple opponents at once, right?”

She nodded. “It happens,” she replied in a low voice.

“And have you tried it?”

Ever so slowly, as it started to dawn on her what Harpo was getting at, she nodded.

“What’s your record? How many have you beaten in a row?” He continued.

“Three.”

As if satisfied with what he had heard, Harpo nodded. “And you were up against almost ten. Not one after the other, but at the same time. And three of those you took out completely.” He set his hooves back on the ground, now just sitting in front of her as she stared at the floor, brow furrowed. “You did better than you ever have, Octavia. You protected your friend, and only your efforts made you both get out of there safely.”

Could that be true? Had her efforts been what made them both get out of there alive and relatively unharmed? She turned her head, looking down at the bandages covering her barrel. She pawed at the ground and looked up, shaking her head. “Is that really what you think?”

“Yes,” Harpo said without hesitation, giving his head a sharp nod. “That is what I think.”

She was about to voice her vehement disagreement when she just… stopped. For just a moment she let herself consider the possibility. There had been so many of them… all stallions, and larger than her. And the one who had stabbed her had been a unicorn. She wasn’t used to fighting magic. She shook her head again and met Harpo’s earnest gaze. “I will believe you, then,” she said slowly. “I’m still not convinced myself. I could have done better. Could have taken on more of them.” She looked at the treadmill again and stepped up on it again. “I still need to get better.”

Harpo pressed his lips together, watching Octavia as she pushed the button and started a slow trot again. “Just, please, be careful.”

Octavia eyed him silently. She blinked and nodded. “I’ll… try.” She looked back forward, concentrating on her gait. “But I still need to get better.”

Author's Note

It's been a year, has it? Well, here's a chapter, then!

I'm dreadfully sorry for the long wait, but from now on updates should continue! My wrists are not fully recovered to what they were before, and I'm not sure they'll ever be. However, I have recovered enough so that I can write a bit every now and then. Therefore, I'll be writing a little here and there, equating to maybe a chapter a month or something like that. Maybe a bit more inbetween.

That being said, Pretence is no longer on Hiatus, and I hope you all enjoy! :D

Chapter 13 - Glasses & Scarves

Asking somepony out on a date was supposed to be easy. Well, not an actual date. More of a private dinner at her home, but the way you asked them was still the same. Go up to them, get their attention, and ask the questions. Job done.

For Vinyl, however, it proved to be quite a bit more difficult than that. Partially because she still felt nervous whenever she thought about it, but also because she had partially forgotten where Octavia lived. She still remembered that it was an apartment complex, and that it was number 192, but much to her chagrin she had forgotten the street name. Lyra had mentioned some kind of shop last time, but which was it? It felt like one of those times when you misplaced your hair brush for the third time in a day, and so had to go looking for it. Again.

Of course, such a thing had never happened to Vinyl. Never. And it was most definitely not the reason for her often unkempt mane.

It was for that reason that she found herself heading towards Lyra’s house, hoping that she would be willing to tell her where she could find Octavia. It was, after all, infinitely easier to ask someone out to dinner if she knew where to find them.

It wasn’t long before she stood knocking on her friend’s door in short order, standing in front of the mint-coloured building. Vinyl would bet her left legs that it was deliberate. A raspberry door, framed on either side by shuttered windows the colour of sunflowers. It truly was a sight to behold, standing out from the rest of the neighbourhood through colour alone, even if the building itself was much the same. Most other buildings were more subdued in their colours, staying closer to the more common oranges, reds and browns.

The wonders of modern magic.

Vinyl finally tore her eyes away from the surrounding buildings, prompted by the sound of the door in front of her opening. Behind it stood Lyra, mane in a braid and a pair of glasses on her snout, looking out at Vinyl with a slightly puzzled look on her face.

“Hi Vinny!” she greeted, her initially confused expression quickly enthusiastic and welcoming. “What brings you to my sugary abode?”

Vinyl raised an eyebrow behind her spectacles, willfully ignoring the nickname, “I didn’t know you needed glasses,” she said.

At first Lyra’s face scrunched up in puzzlement once more, before a look of realisation dawned on her. “Oh, these?” She asked, pulling off the glasses with her magic, holding them in front of her for Vinyl to see. “Not surprising. I got them a couple weeks ago. They’re just for reading.” She put them back on her muzzle, taking a moment to adjust them. “But you’re not here to ask about my newly acquired glasses—” She took a moment to push them farther up the bridge of her nose with a hoof, shooting Vinyl a self-satisfied smirk “—Awesome as they are. So what’s up?”

Vinyl chuckled and rubbed the back of her head, not quite able to meet Lyra’s eyes. Vinyl couldn’t remember a time when Lyra had lied to her, or been deceitful. Had there ever even been a time when anything but respect had been shown by her? No… There hadn’t. Vinyl took another moment to gather her thoughts, then said, “Promise you won’t laugh?” Vinyl pleaded, finally meeting her friend’s gaze.

“I’m not sure what this is about,” Lyra said, taking a few steps back to allow her friend inside, closing the door after her, “but I can promise that I won’t laugh.” She gave her an encouraging pat on the back, guiding them towards the kitchen. “Besides, when have I ever laughed at you for doing or saying something?”

At this, Vinyl looked up from scanning the cover of the closed book on the kitchen table—it showed a dark unicorn wielding a giant, silvery blade—and looked at Lyra in a way, that could only be described as giving her the stink-eye. “Remember when I came to you, wanting to show you how good I had become at playing the harp?”

Lyra froze momentarily, full kettle hovering in the air before her. Her muzzle scrunched up and her pupils shrank rapidly. “I didn’t laugh,” she said slowly, putting the kettle down. Vinyl did not look convinced. “I wasn’t!” She insisted. “At least not to start with.”

“No, you started by cringing,” the DJ pointed out, chuckling shortly. “Then you began giggling, comparing my playing the harp to some foal banging a stick against a fence.”

First she let out a barely strained snort, which quickly became full on laughter as Lyra struggled to light the gas stove. “And you looked so offended! Almost like someone had ‘besmirched’ your entire lineage.”

“At which point you, Lyra Heartstrings, started laughing your tail off, endlessly amused by your own wit.”

The matches finally became cooperative, and Lyra finally got the stove turned on. “And charm, don’t forget charm!”

Vinyl found herself sharing Lyra’s mirth, walking up beside her. She wrapped one of her front legs around the mint unicorn’s neck, pulling her close in a half-hug. With the other hoof she started messing up what bits of her hair was not braided. “I’ll let your fillyfriend be the judge of that.”

Lyra blew a raspberry and pulled away from Vinyl, doing her best to repair the damage done to her braid. “I’ll have you know that Bonbon thinks I am plenty charming, thank you very much!” She retorted, sending a blast of magic at Vinyl’s mane. It turned even more chaotic as a result. “Hah!” Lyra exclaimed triumphantly.

“Very funny,” Vinyl said dryly, and patted down her mane in an effort to not make it look like a bird’s nest. “How’s it going with her, anyhow? She as strict as ever?”

“She was never really strict,” Lyra said while pouring water from the kettle. “She’s more like… very persuasive, with good arguments. I have camomile or tropical. Which do you prefer?”

“Camomile,” Vinyl replied, watching Lyra finding the appropriate tea bags. “So if she’s so persuasive, how come she still hasn’t convinced you to learn how to dance?”

“What makes you think she hasn’t?” She replied, winking, then handed one cup of tea to Vinyl, and took the other for herself. She sat down at the table, pushing aside the book. “I just pretend not to want to. Saving it for the wedding.”

Vinyl raised one eyebrow and sipped at her tea. “You two are getting married?”

Lyra chuckled. “Nah. Not yet. Still haven’t proposed, or been proposed to. I just enjoy whining about how I can’t dance, then being stubborn when she starts bullying me into signing up for classes.”

“But things are good, I hope?”

“Yeah, they are. Work’s been getting a little busy with a sudden influx of requests from small-time theaters wanting background music, but other than that, it’s good, I think. Though Bon Bon’s still...”

Their conversation continued for well over an hour, and Vinyl couldn’t help but think, that it was a shame she didn’t have more time like this with her friends. Just talking over tea and coffee, reminiscing about times past, or discussing recent events and news. Of course, among mares and fillies, a far more popular topic often came up; stallions.

Only, for the two of them it was a matter of the opposite sex. She much rather preferred talking about how some mare she’d seen somewhere, had looked particularly attractive.

This train of thought also brought her mind back to the reason she had come here in the first place, before Lyra’s antics and friendly nature had drawn her in and distracted her.

She set down her third cup of tea, glancing up at where Lyra had opened her book and was in the middle of turning a page, having started reading when their conversations stalled and Vinyl fell into a contemplative silence.

“Hey, Lyra?” She asked, causing the mare in question to look up suddenly, having to push her glasses farther up her muzzle.

“Yes?”

Vinyl gave her a small, apologetic smile. “I appreciate the company, but I was just reminded why I came here again. I was gonna ask you about something. You know… The thing I asked you not to laugh at me for?”

Lyra responded with a good-natured roll of her eyes. “Come on, Vinyl. You don’t have to apologise to me. The last couple hours have been worth it.” She lifted her glasses off of her muzzle, placing them gently on the book and pushing it aside. “So, what did you wanna ask me? I give great dating advice, by the way.”

Snorting, Vinyl returned the eye-roll, unseen behind her glasses. “So you say. But it is kind of up that alley. I came by to ask you where exactly Octavia lives?” She rubbed the side of her head, grimacing and trying not to meet Lyra’s gaze. “I sort of forgot. I mean, I remember which number it was, and that it was in an apartment complex, but other than that I’m…” she moved her hooves away from her head, mimicking a mushroom cloud, “poof. So I was hoping you could tell me… Again.”

Mirth danced in the harpist’s eyes, spreading to the rest of her face faster than Vinyl liked. It was an expression that, whenever it appeared on Lyra’s face, whoever had elicited it knew they were in for relentless teasing for at least a week. It wasn’t something Vinyl was especially looking forward to, but if it was the price for a date…

“Oh, I can tell you,” Lyra said at length, pursing her lips and placing one hoof over the other, leaning ever so slightly forward over the table. “But it’ll come at a price, you know. Information isn’t free, after all. So… Come on, old friend, gimme an offer I can’t refuse.” She finished the statement by adopting a businesslike expression, and even held Vinyl’s deadpan stare for all of five seconds before she burst into giggles. Waving off the annoyed groan from the mare opposite her.

“I hope,” Vinyl began several moments later, when Lyra had yet to stifle her fit, “that you were only making an attempt at humour. Because if you were not, I may just have to sue you on behalf of every single corn in existence, for stealing their corniness.”

In response Lyra blew a raspberry, finally able to control her giggles. She held a hoof in front of her mouth, eyes still glittering with mischievousness, but did as Vinyl wanted, and finally went back on topic. “Well, I’m half serious. I do want to hear what your date ends up being like, buuut… I can tell you.” She lit her horn and pulled a small piece of paper and a pen from a drawer, before scribbling down a few quick words and handing it to Vinyl.

“All you have to do is look at that note, and bam, you know her address… More or less. I asked some old friends since last time, and got some more info. She’s two blocks down from Jumping Records, on the right side of the road. Look for the huge building with a giant swan painted on its side. It’s on Saint’s Street.”

“Thanks.” Vinyl took the note in her own magic, trading the golden telekinetic field with her own light blue. She nodded at the address, hazy images of the building in question coming back to her. She stood up and walked around to where Lyra sat, and pulled her into a quick hug. “You’ve been a huge help, bad humour notwithstanding, but how did you get it?” She asked pulling away.

“You’re welcome, Vinyl,” Lyra replied returning the embrace. “And I asked a friend, Holly, who works in the mail delivery service, explained that I wanted to visit an old friend. I remembered that he was in her grade in uni, so I tried my luck, and boom.” She shot Vinyl a lopsided smile. “Though I am serious, I want a report on how your date went.”

The DJ just laughed and started for the door, calling over her shoulder, “I’ll be sure to give you a five page report if you give a thank you to that friend of yours!”

Lyra, never one to miss a beat, shouted, “I will, and I’ll hold you to it!” And waved back at her.

Vinyl found herself walking in a rather modest area, two blocks past Jumping Records as Lyra had said. It wasn’t so much a street, as it was a small community of apartments, made up mostly of row houses, though dominated by a large apartment complex four floors tall that faced the street, a giant painting of a swan covering its entire left side. The building was large enough that it had three different entrances, each marked by a number in the triple digits.

Vinyl looked down on the note in her magic again, muttering the street name written there, supplying house number herself. Looking up at the nearest door, she saw a large “188” emblazoned above the dark-red door with black metal. Two more to go, then, until she reached 192.

She continued walking, stuffing the note into her mane where it should hopefully remain secure. It was a small thing, but she didn’t want to just drop it, lest someone get a hold of it and… I dunno. Creep on her? It only says the address, not who lives there.

Not that they couldn’t find out. One look at the mailboxes just past the front door, would tell anyone who lived in the complex itself. But that was besides the point! She told herself that she didn’t want to litter, though the truth was probably more along the lines of, not wanting to let someone else get a paper with Octavia’s Address.

A warmth spread through her cheeks and she fought to not slam her forehead against her hoof. That thought was beyond sappy, Vinyl. Come on. She pushed her glasses farther up the bridge of her muzzle and continued on, counting the houses until she finally came to the one with the proper number.

It was a simple, maroon door with a single, frosted window taking up much of the top half of it. She pushed the door open and looked up at the concrete stairs. Looking to her right she found several rows of mailboxes, each labeled with a name and a floor. Glancing over them, Vinyl quickly found the one she was looking for. “Octavia Philharmonica, second floor to the left,” she whispered to herself.

Up the stairs she went, glancing briefly at each door before moving on, going from ground floor, to first, to second floor. There she found what she was looking for; a dark oak door, the name Octavia Philharmonica written in white on the very wood. She walked up to the door, lifted her hoof as if to knock, but then hesitated. Was Octavia home? Would she mind her coming by unannounced? Would it be creepy of her to just show up out of the blue? What if she didn’t want to go on a date, or if—She stopped herself. Such thoughts didn’t get her anywhere. So she drew in a breath, and knocked.

A moment passed.

Then another.

Vinyl felt her heart beat harder, faster. Her hooves suddenly felt cold, and she had to fight to keep her ears from pressing down against her head. She felt like a school filly again. Caught somewhere between the mix of dread when waiting to be called in for an exam, and the anxiety that came with waiting for the grade afterwards. Only the stakes here felt so much higher.

I swear, if my brain continues to treat me like I’m some kid again then— The door opened, revealing Octavia, a pink scarf around her neck.

A small smile appeared on her lips, pleasant surprise in her eyes. “Vinyl,” she said, “what brings you here?”

Damn she’s cute, was about the only thing Vinyl managed to register before she promptly tied knots on her own tongue, half a dozen greetings dying on her tongue. Before long even Octavia looked confused, one ear rigid while the other flopped to the side. Albeit short, this mental stumble did allow Vinyl to realise her own silly behavior and forced her composure to return, ending her half-finished words with a short, and simple, “Hi.”

Author's Note

So you remember that thing about a chapter every two months? Yeah, I do too, and this chapter was finished in December, promise! But there's this thing called vacation, and Taranasaurus, who helps me edit and proofread my chapters, didn't have time until recently.

That being said, I hope you enjoy this one!
I expect to be finished with the new chapter during February!

Chapter 14 - Uncertainty

Octavia opened the door to find Vinyl, ears and cheeks red. She was standing absolutely stock still, like a deer in front of a speeding carriage. It was actually quite adorable, in a way, but what in Equestria had her so confused? She remembered her mention of someone she knew getting hurt, but that was a long time ago, and she hadn’t mentioned it during their time in the hospital. No, she doubted it was that.

She twitched one of her ears, trying not to let them lay down and betray her mounting uncertainty, felt one fall to the side instead. “Vinyl?” She asked, taking a step closer and out onto the patio. The other mare didn’t react, still standing as if frozen in place. She pressed her lips into a thin line, and was almost about to start prodding and shaking to get a reaction when, finally, Vinyl uttered a single word.

“Hi.”

It was said so simply and delicately, and so completely opposite to everything she had expected of Vinyl, that it forced her half a step back, both ears erect once more. She blinked and, after the momentary confusion, found her uncertainty evaporate and merriment taking its place.

“Hello, Vinyl,” Octavia said. Stepping back inside, she held the door open for her friend to enter. “Want to come in?”

She looked almost surprised at the question, her lips parting just enough to show her teeth. It took her a moment to remember herself. “I—Yeah. I’d like to,” she said nodding, and smiled awkwardly. She walked in cautiously, getting close enough to brush coats with Octavia’s bandages.

The sensation brought an uncomfortable mix of both a shiver down her spine and a dull throb of pain, causing her to briefly stiffen before closing the door. She shook her head, forcing the shivers away and turned to face Vinyl.

“That’s a nice picture,” Vinyl said, having stopped in the middle of the hallway, looking up at a framed picture of a blank-flank Octavia, flanked by two adult mares. “Looks like nice ladies. Your parents, right?” She asked.

“My mothers,” Octavia said, following Vinyl’s gaze. She remembered the day. It was back when they had thought it a good idea to buy her one of those mane-accessory sets for foals. The result had been a hundred different coloured beads and mane-clips, colourful strings tied into braids and more, covering so much that you could see barely half of her actual hair. “Or Mum—” she pointed at the light blue pegasus with the two-toned blue mane, then the pale lavender pegasus with the cornflower mane “—and Mother, to be precise. They often complained about being confused when I called both ‘Mum’, so I started calling the stiff one Mother.”

Vinyl snickered, covering her mouth with a hoof. “Now I know where you get it from,” she said, grinning at Octavia’s indignant exclamation. “Relax, I’m kidding… Wow, you really looked grumpy in that picture.”

Octavia didn’t reply immediately, instead silently noting the change in behavior. She seemed so much more at ease now, discussing something casual like an old picture. What had been the cause of her jitters earlier? One could be excused for assuming that she was frightened of something, or nervous. Those kinds of emotions tended to evoke such behavior, after all. She remembered all too well how it felt to be introduced to her new classmates way back when.

“You have no idea,” she said at length and sat down in the hallway. Thinking back on it, that episode in particular made her chuckle. “It was maybe half a year after they had adopted me. I wasn’t very trusting of them yet, and them… let’s say ‘prettying me up’ made me downright furious.” She paused, Vinyl failing to stifle her giggling beside her. “You’re having fun now, but back then I was closer to punching an adult than I had ever been.”

Vinyl waved a hoof, holding the other in front of her mouth. “No, no. I get it. I’m not making fun of you. It’s just… I don’t know. You look cute, I guess?”

Octavia blinked, looking at Vinyl. “Cute?” She looked up at the picture again, brow furrowed.

“Yeah.”

“Really?” She looked at Vinyl again, this time meeting her eyes. She blinked again. Vinyl had taken off her glasses. “Oh wow. I forgot how beautiful your eyes were.”

To her credit, Vinyl blushed but didn’t look away. She set the glasses behind her horn, holding them up while she turned to fully face Octavia. “Yeah, you are.” She said, and Octavia could only just detect a quiver in her voice. She did an admirable job at hiding it. “And, I guess, that’s partly the reason I visited you?”

Octavia didn’t reply. It was as if she was rooted to the spot. Captivated by a magic no horn could produce, and still the things as of yet unsaid, and those ruby-like eyes, managed to bind her like no spell could. She slowly dipped her head in a shallow nod. A silent invitation to continue.

Vinyl, for her part, took a deep breath and held it for several moments, hoofs fidgeting. She let out her breath and steeled herself, then opened her mouth. She paused again. She frowned deeply for all of a second before she wiped it away, once more focusing entirely on Octavia. This time, it seemed, she didn’t give herself time to hesitate. “Do you want to have dinner with me?”

The words hung in the air for what seemed like ages. Octavia’s eyes widened and her lips parted. Before her Vinyl shuffled in place, her gaze flickering left and right between Octavia’s eyes. Vinyl has asked her out to dinner, but what did that mean? Was it platonic? A friendly gesture? She forced herself to blink and closed her mouth, looking off to the side, suddenly uncertain. No one had ever asked her out for dinner before. No one had ever cared enough, at least not until she had met her parents for the first time. It reminded her of a time when the question of ‘why’ had been so prevalent, and now it returned. It scared her. She had had a few friends before, acquaintances as well, but she had never truly been tight with any of them. Harpo was the closest, a friend for life she dared to call him. He had been there for her for well over ten years, never hurt her, never asked for anything in return. And now Vinyl was… No. She wasn’t asking for that. Vinyl was asking for something more, wasn’t she?

Dared she read that far into it? Did she—

“Octavia?”

The hesitant tone with which Vinyl said it brought Octavia out of her daze. She blinked several times and looked back at Vinyl who, contrary to everything she knew of her, looked scared. Her red eyes were wide and bright, ears flat against her head, but to her credit she stood tall with squared shoulders. Her entire stance was strong and secure, even if her expression wasn’t.

“Yes?” Octavia said quietly, for a moment feeling her mind muddled and slow. What had the question been?

“I was wondering if you, y’know, wanted to have dinner with me? At my place? Not really a date or anything just, y’know, dinner. Between friends… Maybe? I understand if you don’t want to, but…”

Octavia used that pause to her advantage, holding up a hoof to stall any further rambling of Vinyl’s. She has invited you to dinner, Octavia. Don’t read too far into it. Don’t let your—my—insecurities get in the way. “I would like that, I think,” Octavia said, forcing a pleasant smile to brighten her expression. “I’m sorry about my sudden lapse in attention, I’ve just been rather preoccupied lately. The painkillers, you know. I may be discharged but… the wound still hurts.” She nodded towards her side where the bandages still covered her middle.

Vinyl, however, didn’t seem to buy it. Not entirely at least, what with how her ears still lay flat. “Are you sure?” She pressed cautiously. “I just thought that, y’know… All things considered after that day, it would be nice to let that be in the past, and not let it be a ‘last time I ever saw her we got attacked!’ Kind of thing.”

The way Vinyl made her voice deepen, when she mimicked an older version of herself did manage a small chuckle out of Octavia. It wasn’t much, but she wasn’t able to suppress it had she wanted to. She briefly inhaled through her nose, blowing the air out through her mouth and felt her uncertainty expelled with it. She didn’t know how long it would last, but right now she felt a little more at peace. Vinyl’s sentiment made sense, and she certainly didn’t mind spending time with a friend.

“As mum always said, free food is the best food.” She met Vinyl’s eyes, the smile she had previously forced on now more natural. “I’m sure, Vinyl.”

Ears erect and a near jubilant grin on her lips, Vinyl stood up and, had she had wings, would have extended them as far as they would go. “Great! And I agree with your mum, but,” she looked up at the painting again, “which one was it again?”

“Blue one,” Octavia supplied, pointing. “Her name’s Ivory Rose, if you’re curious.”

“For someone called Ivory, there’s not a lot of white on her.”

Octavia looked at her. “Much like how you don’t look like a phonograph record, Vinyl,” she stated flatly, and fought to keep her expression just as deadpan.

Vinyl met her deadpan stare, offering a lopsided smirk in return. “How do you know? Maybe I’m a shapeshifting vinyl record!”

Sighing in mock defeat, Octavia rose and walked into the kitchen, and called back to Vinyl, “If you want to make bad jokes, at least do it over some hot chocolate.” She heard the sound of Vinyl following her within a second of hot chocolate being mentioned, and thought to herself that it, in some way, was rather cute that she acted so much like a puppy when offered something tasty.

A chair scraped against the floor behind her, as Vinyl settled herself by the table, ready and waiting for the hot chocolate. It wasn’t long before she had a couple of steaming mugs of chocolate on a tray. Vinyl helped them along on their path to the kitchen table, using her magic to float them over.

What followed was a sight that was endearing. Vinyl, in her eagerness to drink, seemed for a moment to have forgotten that steaming things were usually hot. The result was a hiss as she burnt her tongue, and a frantic attempt to alleviate the pain by batting at it with her hooves. It reminded her of someone from… long ago. She snorted, pushing the thought back, and instead offered a glass of milk to Vinyl, which she took eagerly.

“I didn’t expect to need to remind you that hot chocolate is, well, hot,” she said and took her place across from Vinyl, blowing at her own mug to cool it down.

Vinyl set down the now-empty glass of milk, smacking her lips. “Didn’t think so, either,” she said, now also blowing at the hot chocolate, “but it turns out you did.”

“At least you learned your lesson,” Octavia said, motioning for Vinyl’s mug which she was still trying to cool down.

Vinyl lifted the mug and attempted a tentative sip, her entire expression brightening when her tongue didn’t get scalded again. “I’m a slow learner,” she said between careful sips, “but I do learn.”

“That’s good,” she said, shuffling into a more comfortable position but, winced a little when her movement caused the sutures to stretch a little. She peered at Vinyl over the mug as she brought it to her lips. Those red eyes were earnest, she thought. They mirrored the pony they belonged to.

As someone who had few acquaintances, and yet fewer friends, the fact that she could spend time with Vinyl like this was very near extraordinary. She felt calm and at ease around the unicorn, free of everyday worries. She was one of the few ponies she felt like she could trust, in spite of how short the time they had known each other. But then again, sharing a near-death experience like they had, often created very tight bonds, or so some ponies said. It reminded her of that phenomenon, where someone experienced fear, or had a large influx of adrenaline, but it felt like love or lust to them. Was the whole “friendship built on harsh experiences” thing, a branch of that very thing? Even if not, it was an interesting thought.

Very relevant to this line of thought was Vinyl’s recent behaviour. Octavia wasn’t so dense as to not have noticed the odd way in which the DJ acted. The way she froze when she first opened the door, and the way the words seemed to tumble out of her mouth, when the topic shifted to the invitation itself. Vinyl had divulged the fact that she was bisexual, back when they had spent the day at the recording studios, and her recent actions had been rather strange, a bit off from her usual behavior. Then again, it did make sense that she was also just wanted them to not part ways on a bad note.

She swallowed a mouthful of the cocoa and set her mug down. Now wasn’t the time to jump to conclusions. It might as well be, that the explanation was a simple “I am nervous to ask you to dinner because it seems more intimate than it is.”

“Vinyl?” She asked.

The unicorn looked up from her half-empty mug. “Yes?”

“In regards to that dinner you invited me to, will there be a dress code?” She leaned back in her chair and fiddled with her scarf for a moment. “And, I suppose this is important as well; when will it be?”

Vinyl’s eyes widened for a moment at the reminder of the promised “date”. She held the mug between her hooves, and looked down into it thoughtfully, her brows furrowed. “I didn’t decide on a date yet, but maybe tomorrow night? As for dress code, I’m not some big-shot like Fancypants. Wear something nice if you like, but I’m not gonna say you have to.”

Octavia shook her head slowly, and felt a tendril of guilt wrap itself around her core as she witnessed Vinyl’s expression wilt. It felt like she had just shot down a proposal, so she hurried to explain. “Tomorrow is when I usually go train my martial arts. Normally I could just skip due to my…” she pointed at the bandages covering her middle, “but I promised Harpo I would get him formally introduced to the club, and help him sign up as a member, and then do a little bit of exercise myself.”

Vinyl seemed to pause at that, leaning ever so slightly to the side and looked at Octavia’s bandages. The way that her brows furrowed, as she stared at where her stitches would be was all Octavia needed to predict the coming questions.

“Are you sure it’s okay?” Vinyl asked hesitantly, glancing meaningfully between the Octavia and her bandages. “Won’t the stitches just rupture?”

Rather than let her immediate, knee-jerk annoyance show, Octavia buried her muzzle in her drink. She spent the time it took to empty her mug, to let her irritation simmer down and evaporate, and only set it down when there was no more hot chocolate to be licked off the bottom. “You sound just like Harpo,” she said with a sigh, setting down the mug. “He’s also incessantly worried about my health, even when I tell him that I’m fine.” She fixed Vinyl with a look that was equal amounts defiance and stubbornness. “So please, trust me when I say that I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure,” Vinyl relented. She was obviously hesitant, something Octavia could have appreciated any other day. It showed genuine concern, but she had just about had enough of Harpo being on her tail about it for the last several days.

Octavia nodded, and offered a smile. “Thank you,” she said. “I’m not going to push myself further than is safe. I know my limits well, Vinyl… Now, how about the day after tomorrow? I don’t have any plans there.”

Vinyl spent another few moments looking her in the eyes; her gaze flitting between Octavia’s eyes as if she was trying to discern some truth from them. Whatever it was she was looking for, it seemed like she found it as she gave a shallow nod, then smiled in return. “Yeah, two days from now is fine. I’ll make sure to have everything sorted out. Speaking of, got a pencil?”

Octavia nodded and pointed towards a large mug standing on the far corner on the kitchen table, in which multiple pencils were waiting to be used.

Vinyl lit her horn and brought one of them over, using it to quickly scribble something down, then seemed to hastily cross out something else. “Here,” she said handing it over. “This is my address. If you arrive at around six in the evening, I’ll have dinner ready.” She fidgeget a little, rubbing her hooves together. “Is that alright?”

Taking the proffered note, Octavia noted with amusement that her own address had been crossed out, and below it was written an address for a house in the richer part of town, which made her raise an eyebrow. She hadn’t expected Vinyl to be able to afford that kind of house, but then again maybe she was just better off than your average DJ? “I’ll make sure to be there,” she said and put the note down on the table.

“Great!” Vinyl exclaimed, grinning. “Though I gotta ask, are you allergic to anything?”

“Yeah,” Octavia replied, “Cyanide.”

Author's Note

I swear to Celestia I finished this chapter in February, as I promised!
There's just this tiny issue of real life being more important than ponies, so editing had to wait a bit. Still, thanks to Taranasaurus for the help!

I hope you all enjoyed a bit of... Uncertainty :twilightsmile:

Bonus points to ever finds the Game of Thrones reference.

Chapter 15 - Warming Up

The previous day had gone far better than Vinyl could have expected, and even now, a full twenty four hours later, her mood had not dropped at all. Octavia had, after all, said yes to her invitation, and she had even managed to avoid embarrassing herself.

She walked with a skip in her step towards the market, a million ideas of what they could have for their dinner tomorrow rushing through her head; each more tantalizing than the last. Vinyl had always had a particular fondness for apples, so she had to include them into the menu somehow. An apple pie, perhaps? It would work well as a dessert, but she also had to think of the main course.

She entered the market proper, chewing on her lips as she swept her gaze over the multitude of stalls. She clicked her tongue thoughtfully, brows furrowing behind her glasses. One stall sold eggs, another a variety of cheese. A third dealt in onions and garlic… An idea was slowly starting to take form, and with every step further into the market she found another stall, selling another ingredient which she added to her mental list.

Within minutes she had both a completed list of ingredients and a saddlebag full of culinary puzzle pieces. She had decided upon a good old lasagna, which was all well and good if she remembered how to properly make one. It wasn’t something she had often gotten as a child, as her mother had seen it as somewhat unrefined, and not food fit for them. Even so they had gotten it occasionally, and she had learned to like it. Still, she would need to ask her mother for the recipe she had used back then. As it was she could only just remember which ingredients went into it. Nevertheless, lasagna followed by apple pie sounded like the perfect thing for their dinner. It wasn’t as simple as just pasta and tomato sauce, but neither was it as pretentious as anything she’d find in a five star establishment. She nodded to herself thinking, that if she were to borrow a phrase from an old story from her childhood, she would say it was ‘just right’.

Now all she had to do was go home and start preparing for the date tomorrow, maybe pick out a nice dress or something. She did want to impress after all, did she not? Or would it be too much? She technically hadn’t asked Octavia out on a formal date, so maybe she should remain casual? Octavia almost always wore her bowtie, so perhaps it wouldn’t be too extraordinary if Vinyl wore something as well? Something small? She’d have to think that over when she got home. Speaking of home, she also needed to clean.

She stopped, and blinked. Oh Celestia, I have to clean.

Octavia felt a little smile tug insistently at the corners of her lips. It wasn’t because Harpo was walking beside her, not entirely. He was a good friend, but this time there was something more to the reason why she felt giddy inside. She was finally getting back to the ‘Dojo’, as she liked to call it, though in reality it was more of a glorified gym, that the club used to train in. She had been admonished to no small degree by Harpo—and by Vinyl as well to a lesser extent—that she not overexert herself lest her stitches break, but not even that had been able to put a damper on her mood. The Dojo had become a place where she spent much of her free time in the last decade, which gradually transformed it into something of a safe haven. It was as if some weight had been lifted from her shoulders seeing the place again, and felt giddy being here again. It was more than just the prospect of getting to train again, but returning to a place where there were people she actually liked. Granted, getting back into shape was a definite plus. On the other hoof, the thing that was most important was that it had provided her with a place where she could empty her mind of everything that burdened her, large or trivial, and just focus on the movements.

She sighed, looking ahead to where a sign advertised the gym. She could only just make out the words on it, detailing opening hours, as well as which timeslots were taken up by clubs such as Octavia’s. There were other martial arts clubs using this location, after all. She reminded herself, with some chagrin, that she would have to take it easy this time, and probably for the next few weeks as well. Maybe it would be best to revisit the basics, that didn’t really require more movement than when walking.

Looking to her side, she was met with the grinning face of Harpo, who seemed extraordinarily excited, even moreso than on an ordinary day. He looked even more giddy than she felt, though it had abated somewhat at the reminder of her stitches. She raised an eyebrow at him as he skipped alongside her, but remained silent. There was something to be said about that stallion’s ability to remain happy regardless of the circumstances. He was even humming a tune, and she could have sworn it was one she had once composed.

“That excited, are we?” She asked teasingly.

Harpo looked at her, his grin widening at her words. “Of course! I’ve wanted to try this for ages, and after that small taste you gave me a short while back, I’ve been even more stoked to try it.”

“In that case,” she replied and stopped, waving her hoof at the building beside them, “welcome to the Dojo.”

Harpo apparently did not need to be told twice, and pushed the door open without preamble, pausing only briefly to hold it open for Octavia before he headed in himself. They were greeted by one of the instructors, a dark blue unicorn by the name of Azure. True to his friendly nature, Harpo wasted no time in walking up to her and said, “Hi!”

Azure looked taken aback for a second, before she glanced at Octavia with a questioning look on her face. “Friend of yours?” She asked.

“His name is Harpo, and he’d like to sign up,” she explained before the stallion could. She walked up besides them and motioned towards the other mare. “And Harpo, this is Azure, she is one of the instructors here. I would advise that you show her a smidgen more respect than you do me,” she added with a bit of humour near the end.

Azure nodded and, Octavia knew, adopted her no-nonsense demeanor in an attempt to get her own little fun out of the situation. “If you do intend to join,” she said sternly, looking down at Harpo, “then you may address me as Sensei.” Already Octavia was rolling her eyes and struggling to suppress a smile. The customary grilling of prospective students was about to begin. She stepped up beside Azure and sat down, the two of them facing Harpo.

Harpo, for his part, looked put-off, not just by the stern tone but also the appearance of Azure. The way he slowly glanced up and down at her, indicated that he only just now noticed, that this mare was far more muscular than he was, as well as a fair bit taller. He swallowed and nodded, offering his best attempt at a military salute. “Yes ma’am—Eeh, Sensei,” he said, quickly correcting himself when Azure simply arched an eyebrow.

The brow, however, remained raised. Azure shifted her weight from one side to the other, still waiting. Harpo glanced over at Octavia, the question in his bewildered expression clear enough to see, but just telling him the answer wouldn’t be right. He was clever, he’d figure it out. Or he wouldn’t, and he’d embarrass himself.

She let him stay frozen in his salute for a few seconds before she acquiesced his silent request for help, and lowered her head. Not quite in a nod, but more as a bow. Harpo, luckily, was quick to catch on and mimicked her, but took it a step further and planted his hoof on the ground, and bowed at Azure rather than saluting.

“Yes, Sensei,” he said and straightened up again, meeting Azure’s eyes. She was smiling down at him.

“I think he’s learning,” Azure said casually, glancing down at Octavia. “Either that, or he had a little help?” She added.

Octavia nonchalantly polished her hoof against her chest. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, making a point of not looking at Azure. The feigned ignorance could not last forever, however, and the facade cracked when she looked up again, seeing the perplexed look of the stallion in front of them.

“Um, can you two tell me what this was all about?” He asked.

“Just teaching you the traditions,” Azure said lightly, sitting down like the other two. “Martial Arts like what we teach here comes from Neighpon, and a few other countries neighbouring it. Bowing rather than saluting, and the whole ‘sensei’ title, is from there.”

Harpo’s mouth opened in a small ‘o’ of realisation. “That makes sense. Preserving traditions, then?”

Azure nodded, offering him a smile. “Exactly. I don’t teach here just to teach ponies how to defend themselves, but also because I want to share a bit of foreign traditions. They’re fascinating once you get to know them.”

Octavia, not so subtle, coughed into a hoof. Some might claim she uttered the word ‘nerd’ under her breath, but she would forever deny it. Azure wrinkled her muzzle at being interrupted, but met only a smile when she mock-scowled at Octavia.

She grunted and turned back to Harpo, getting a little more serious again. “Octavia said that you wanted to join. That’s true?”

“Yes.”

“Right, but I want to ask you, why do you want to join?” She pointed at herself and then Octavia. “Both of us had a reason for joining. For Octavia it was health related, for me it was an interest in the sport aspects, but what about you?”

That that was a question Octavia recognised. It was one posed to all prospective pupils, and Octavia still remembered when she had been asked. Azure had explained, that it was a tradition she had started on her own because she found it interesting to hear why ponies joined. Rumours, however, claimed that it was because of one pony, who had once joined only to learn how to hurt others. Azure had repeatedly stated that it was not true, but rumours were persistent things. Nevertheless it was hard to keep back the snort that threatened to escape her, as Harpo’s mouth opened in a comical display of surprise.

The answer, it turned out, did not come easily to Harpo. He had sat down himself, humming in thought, and raised a hoof to scratch his chin. Octavia found herself amused at this, not because he looked to be thinking, as that was a joke for another day, but because it reminded her of their first meeting. He had been thinking of things to do so hard, back then, to get her to warm up to him.

They spent the next few moments in relative silence, interrupted only by the sound of Harpo scratching his own face, and then his hooves clapping together as he kept trying to come up with an answer. When he finally did answer it was with a contemplative frown marring his features. “I just wanted to, I guess?” He said with a shrug, and looked up at Azure. “I knew, that Octavia has been training here for years, and I’ve seen the results on her body and—hey, don’t look at me like that, Octavia, we both know you have a great body.”

Octavia held the stare for another few moments, letting Harpo sweat under the combined glares of her and Azure. The smile he met them with was entirely too calm and bordering on smug, and she wondered if she should find some way to get back at him for that comment. Octavia had to give it to him, he knew he was right, and someone not afraid to speak his mind. Granted, it was a compliment.

Harpo, choosing now to ignore her stare, continuing his explanation. “I know it’s been a good stress reliever for her, and has contributed quite a bit to making her happier.” He paused, glanced to Octavia, and for a moment she swore she could see concern in his eyes, but if it had ever been there it disappeared as quickly as it came. Harpo turned back to Azure. “I also would like to learn how to defend myself should the need arise, and—”

A cobalt field of magic formed around Harpo’s muzzle, holding it closed. Azure fixed him with a firm stare, the intensity of which Octavia had only ever seen when some smart-mouthed colt bragged about how he could now beat up people who gave him trouble, with all the things they were taught. It always made her skin crawl whenever she saw it, even if she was just in the peripheral of it. Harpo seemed to be no exception.

“Let me make one thing clear, Harpo,” Azure said in a steely voice, “we do not train here to become better at fighting other ponies. Our purpose here is not to become fighters or vigilantes, but to hone our minds and bodies, and become better versions of ourselves.” The magic aura around Harpo’s muzzle vanished. “Understood?” She asked, her glare lessening somewhat.

He took a deep breath and sat down, taking a second to gather his thoughts, it looked like. When he stood and looked up at Azure again, his tone was far more mellow and thoughtful, as if reciting lines that were half prepared, and half made up. “I’m sorry if it came across as me wanting to go look for a fight, but I swear that is not it. The last thing I said before you silenced me, was more about…” He fell silent, but did turn his head slightly towards Octavia, and more specifically her bandages.

Azure followed his gaze, uttering a simple “Ah.”

Though annoyed that attention was directed to her wounds, Octavia said nothing and let Harpo finish his explanation. “I have no intentions of getting into fights on purpose, but if I am ever left without a choice, then I would want to be able to know enough to keep myself, and others, safe.” He then sat down again and looked expectantly up at Azure who, at this point, was standing completely still and simply staring at the shorter stallion.

Though it was intensely irritating to be reminded of her failure, she knew where he was coming from. His words, and how he looked at her, told her that he felt like she did about Vinyl. Just like she felt like she had failed her newest friend, so too did Harpo feel like he had failed her, by not being there to defend her when she’d been hurt.

He wasn’t just her friend because he had wanted to be, it had been almost an assignment when they first met, and yet he had grown to be one of her best friends in the years that followed. She smiled a little to herself, feeling a small bit of joy at the knowledge that he cared for her that much, but it also brought with it another, more sobering thought.

“What do you think, Octavia?” Azure asked bringing Octavia out of her own thoughts. She hadn’t turned away from Harpo. “You know him better than I do. Is he being honest?”

Octavia pursed her lips and met Harpo’s eyes, as he had turned to look at her. He looked sincere with not a glimmer of mischief or anything untowards in his expression. It was an alien look on him, as he almost always seemed to be trying to be overly positive and entertaining whenever she was otherwise with him. He offered her a small half-smile, as if he was silently inviting her to tell whatever she believed to be the honest truth. She gave him a nod in return which seemed to satisfy him.

“I’ve never known him to lie about anything. Not anything serious, anyway. The small, odd lie here and there to playfully hide something, or to be mischievous. But with this, I am convinced he’s telling the truth.” With every word, Harpo’s expression brightened a little. She looked up to Azure, who seemed to be weighing her words, her steady gaze on Harpo; no longer piercing, but simply calm and contemplative. “I know him well enough to realise why he said what he did. He is not going to be looking for fights.”

Azure didn’t speak up immediately, humming tunelessly in the time that passed. The expression on her face gradually eased, causing the furrow on her brow to even out until she eventually met Harpo’s surprisingly disciplined expression with a smile. “Very well then, welcome to our little school, Harpo. Octavia’s vouching for you, so don’t let her down, you hear?”

Harpo snapped off an instant salute, his back straight as a ruler. “Yes Ma—Sensei!”

“He’s learning,” Azure said with a look towards Octavia. “Training begins in about half an hour. You can fill him in on the details, other traditions and the like.” To Harpo she said. “You can train today for free, let it be a trial and see if you’d like to continue. We’ll sign you up when we’ve finished, if you still want to join. I’ll go change, and lay out the mats if you need me.” She then turned and walked into the dojo proper, and the brief look that Octavia had of the room behind the door, revealed it to look much like a normal gym room, sans the mats that usually covered the floor.

“I’m excited,” Harpo said simply, looking at the door Azure had disappeared through. “So… Half an hour until it starts.” He looked at Octavia. “Who else will show up?”

She shrugged. “It changes. Sometimes all nine of us are here, other times it’s only a few.”

“And are there any other Senseis? Nine ponies is a bit much for one teacher, isn’t it?”

“There is one other teacher, he has this weird thing where he doesn’t want to tell us his real name, so he just goes by Sensei, or Gale when he’s not present.”

“‘Gale?’” Harpo echoed. “So he’s a pegasus?”

“The wind-related name gave it away, huh?”

“Nah. The ‘A’ and the ‘E’ did. ‘Pegasus’ has those letters in it, too.”

Yesterday had been interesting, if not outright fun for Octavia. Harpo’s first attempts at martial arts were about as clumsy as she had expected, but that wasn’t really a surprise, seeing as everypony started out clumsy on their first day. She had been much the same, stumbling over her own legs. It had taken Gale to single her out, and take her aside before she really got the hang of things.

Speaking of Gale, one thing she really should have seen coming was Harpo’s immediate reaction to him entering the dojo. Even then, for some reason, she still found herself staring in disbelief as Harpo, upon having the pegasus identified, walked right up to him and promptly asked what his real name was. Octavia’s facehoof was mirrored by pretty much every other student, but Gale only chuckled and said what he always did, that he would be addressed as Sensei.

She chuckled as she was, for the third time that day, reminded of Harpo’s dejected look as he turned around and returned to the mats.

She ran the brush through her mane and gave the mirror a discerning stare, then nodded and moved on to her tail. She gave it the first stroke of many to come as her thoughts turned to the rapidly approaching dinner. Just two hours from now she would be on her way to Vinyl’s place.

She turned to the mirror, studying herself even as she kept brushing her tail. She never really wore clothes, not outside of formal gatherings like her mothers’ anniversaries. Her bowtie was the only thing she wore regularly, but that had become so normal that she wasn’t sure if it really was enough for the coming dinner. It was an informal dinner, after all, but even that deserved a bit extra she felt.

Her eyes fell on her tail, namely a tangle she was trying to get out of it. It gave her an idea. She was certain clothes were overdoing it, but making something of her mane and tail might work. Only trouble was, that she was bereft of magic to do anything more intricate than the simplest of braids. She glanced up at the clock, and seeing that she still had a little less than two hours left until the dinner, decided that a pitstop at the salon was due. She needed a trim anyway.

Author's Note

I. Am. Lazy.
Sooooo sorry for the long wait guys. Nearly half a year... Mother of What? You thought I'd be swearing? I am so sorry about the long wait. As I mentioned in my blogpost, there are no excuses other than me being lazy.

But with that out of the way, once again thank you to Taranasaurus for helping me reign in my trainwreck of a fic, and make it of an acceptable quality.

And Chapter 16 is already in the works. I'm less lazy this time!
Until next time folks, enjoy!

Chapter 16 - To Each Other

A blue glow surrounding the handle of the oven, pulling it open. Vinyl, bereft of her glasses, stared critically at the half-done lasagna slowly being baked within. The cheese on top was bubbling slowly, leftover air and water escaping. She gave it a nod, that she felt properly conveyed her satisfaction as to how things were going, and closed the oven door again. She returned to the cutting board, grasped the knife in her magic and set about peeling and cutting apples.

She had been at it for most of the day at this point, first cleaning her entire apartment, including both her toilets and her guest room. She hadn’t used a duster for ages, something she knew her mother would have reprimanded her for had she been there, and it had taken longer than she expected to properly clean the windows. She hadn’t been a slouch since she moved out on her own, but she would be lying if she said she had held her apartment, to the same standards her parents did their home. The difference between what she could manage on her own, and what the mother-and-maid combo could, was very easy to see. If nothing else in how long it had taken.

The apple pie was coming along well enough in the minutes that followed, the simple routine of cooking something she was familiar with setting in, and giving her a few moments of peace. It allowed her to think without her pestering self-doubt that reared its ugly head. She was reminded that today would be her first date in several years. She would have liked to say that it wasn’t for lack of trying, but she had tried, at least a little, but even just being relatively famous, turned out to be a pain in the flank when it came to dating. There were the nearly obligatory zealous fans, who wanted to be with her only because she was somewhat well known in the music industry.

Then there were the other type of ponies who were “interested” in her, and these actually managed to make her perturbed. All they wanted were the money she supposedly had. She would be lying if she said she wasn’t well off. She earned most of her income from her DJ’ing and the albums she released, and it was enough to not really have to worry. But the knowledge that there were ponies out there, who only wanted her to get to her money…

She forced herself to take a deep breath, and take a moment to calm herself. Today was a good day, there was no need to sour it with bad thoughts. Think positive, positive… Violet and grey. Those were nice colours weren’t they? Nice colours were positive things.

She shook her head, forcing herself out of her reverie, and snorted at her own behaviour. Octavia had been invited to a date at her house, but she had made no mention or indication of it being romantic. That is, were she to be honest, she did like to think of it as a little romantic herself, but she suspected that it was only platonic for Octavia.

Unless, of course, the other musician had similar feelings to her own? No, that was expecting too much. She had already told herself that she would keep things on a friendly level, until things felt right. When that would be she had no idea, but perhaps today’s date would give her a good idea of it? No. Don’t get ahead of yourself, Vinyl, she told herself, and pulled open cupboards to get the sugar, cinnamon, and whatever else she needed for the pie filling, and threw it all in a bowl with the apple slices and started mixing it.

She had every intention of enjoying the date, which included not constantly worrying about whether or not they would end up together. Going down that particular train of thought, would lead to nothing but headaches and a constant spiral of doubt and worry. She turned back to focus on the cooking.

It didn’t take long for the pie to be in her small oven, preheated until just opening it would have caused her glasses to fog over had she been wearing them. She checked the lasagna in the other oven one more time, and determined that it wasn’t long before she could turn off the heat.

Any further musings on the subject of culinary endeavours were summarily interrupted by the doorbell ringing, immediately waking butterflies in her stomach, that had until now been dormant. She forced herself to walk calmly to the front door, glancing up at the clock as she passed it — it was less than a quarter to six. The oak door loomed in front of her, on the other side the mare she had fallen for faster than she could have ever predicted. One of the only things that kept her from being a jittery mess, was knowing how much of a field day Lyra would have if she caught wind of Vinyl’s current state. Her heart felt like a pinball being bounced around in her ribcage.

She took a moment to quiet herself, then pulled open the door, and there she stood, burgundy scarf wrapped around her, a sweet smile on her lips and curls in both her mane and tail.

“Good evening, Vinyl.”

Either the voice was truly like the jingling of bells, and windchimes in a breeze, or Vinyl’s overactive brain was convincing her that what stood before her was more beautiful than should be possible. Either way the simple greeting shook her out of her stupor. “Hi, uh, evening.” She stepped to the side and held the door open, letting Octavia inside.

She unwrapped the scarf from around her neck, and hung it on the single coat rack in the hallway, revealing the pink bowtie underneath. “Sorry I’m a little early, I hope it’s not an issue?” She asked.

“As a filly I was always told, either you’re ten minutes early, or you’re late.” She chuckled. “Of course, that rule only counts if you don’t count on being fashionably late as they call it.”

She eyed Vinyl bemusedly. “So you either arrive early, or you arrive late? How does that even work?”

Vinyl shrugged and lead the way into her home proper. “I have no idea, it was just what I was told. It depends on the occasion, I suppose?” She looked over her shoulder, her cheeks brightening with rose. “I like what you did with your hair,” she said. “Curls suit you.”

Octavia seemed taken off-guard by the compliment, raising a hoof to her mane as if only just now remembering her new hairstyle. She put her hoof down again, seeming a little more comfortable. “Thanks. I’ll admit, I had wondered if it was perhaps too much. I also like what you did with your mane,” she added. “It looks longer now than when in spikes. Is it naturally in waves?”

Now it was Vinyl’s turn to be taken off-guard. She could feel the heat in her cheeks rising, and was sure it showed through her fur. She quickly looked elsewhere, suddenly afraid, that by putting effort into looking a little more like the classic, feminine mare, she had done something wrong. She knew the thought was illogical, but the paranoia that arose from suddenly having her crush point it out didn’t care.

She shook her head, chuckling awkwardly. “No, it’s normally straight. I just wanted to…” she rolled her hoof in the air, looking for the right word to use.

“Look prettier?” Octavia offered, making Vinyl want to answer both yes and no at the same time.

“Let’s say ‘change it up a bit’,” she said, striking what felt like a good middle-ground. She pawed at the ground a bit before turning to the kitchen, happy that her growing blush was hidden. “I’m glad you like it though. Feel free to treat my home like your own,” she added and checked on the food. The sight that greeted her gave her a small sense of satisfaction. She hadn’t made lasagna in long enough, that she had worried how it would turn out, but it seemed her worries had been for naught. She turned off the heat and set it on the counter the cool. The apple pie would be a while until it was finished baking.

“I like your garden,” came Octavia’s voice from the other end of the room. Vinyl rose up, looking over the half-wall that separated the kitchen and living room, and followed Octavia’s gaze through the wall-sized window..

“It’s not as if I do a whole lot to it,” she called back, leaving the oven to cool. Cabinets and drawers opened and out flew dishes and cutlery—everything she’d need to set the table. “I mostly just water the plants that were already there when I moved in.” A tablecloth pulled itself from a cupboard and laid itself over the table, the plates and other following.

“Really?”

Vinyl shrugged, unseen by Octavia who still had her back turned to her. “Well, not entirely. See the bush-like plant to the left? The one that kind of droops, and has violet and and purple clusters of petals? I planted that one just after I bought the place.”

“A butterfly bush?!” This time Octavia turned to her, eyes wide. Vinyl nodded and trotted around the half-wall, giving the table a cursory inspection before she walked up beside Octavia.

“Precisely… It’s the same colour as your eyes, by the way.”

Octavia fell silent, and though a faint blush tinted her cheeks Vinyl feared she had gone too far. She backpedalled as quickly as she could, turning her attention towards the butterfly bush outside again. She lit her horn, bringing forth a memory from last summer when butterflies had been swarming the thing, and projected it into the bush itself.

“Most days during summer, this i what it looks like,” Vinyl said, and made a point not to look beside her for fear of what she might see in the other’s eyes.

“It’s pretty,” she heard from beside her, Octavia’s voice quiet, but steady. Thank goodness, she thought. It seemed she hadn’t alienated her friend with just the one sentence.

She chanced a glance, and found Octavia taking in the illusion, following individual butterflies as they moved from one branch to the other, as they had back when Vinyl saw it. She cut off her magic, the illusory butterflies disappearing. Octavia blinked but otherwise didn’t make note of it.

Relieved that she hadn’t butchered the dinner date, Vinyl headed back towards the kitchen, horn lighting again to grab the lasagna. “Butterflies aside, how have the last few days been?”

“Nothing much,” came Octavia’s replied, following in Vinyl’s heels and settling by the table. “I introduced Harpo to the world of martial arts, and he seemed to be having fun.”

“Harpo?” Vinyl asked, looking up from the lasagna now on the table. Her lips pressed into a thin line, and with no small amount of annoyance she had to admit the name rang no bells. “Uuuh, who was he again?”

“Oh,” Octavia said, nose scrunching, “right. You’ve barely met. Remember when we met outside of your recording studios? Where you had me play Pachelbel’s Canon?”

Vinyl stopped, her mouth opening in realisation. “Oh right!” She said, stomping the ground with one hoof. “He was the purple guy! Lyre for a cutie mark, right?”

“He was,” she replied, eyes trailing the water jug that hovered in Vinyl’s magic from the kitchen to the table. “Or, well, is. Still alive and well, if somewhat bruised after yesterday’s… I hesitate to call them antics, but a model student he was not.” She let out a snort. “Well, it was interesting, let us say.”

Knife held in her magic, Vinyl cut pieces of the lasagna, serving a portion to each of them. “I think I would have liked to see that.”

Placing her hooves on the cutlery, the magnets within took hold and let her start cutting a piece off. “Certainly worth it, I would say… And this is good!” She added, breaking every rule about speaking and dining that Vinyl’s mother had ever taught her. At least the blush on her cheeks told Vinyl she had realised it, and she even quickly apologised.

Vinyl decided to just wave it off. “Don’t worry about it. I’m not as much a stick in the mud as my mother.”

Octavia swallowed, and while pouring some water for herself, said, “speaking of mothers, I received a letter from mine. They’ll be visiting soon.”

“Oh?”

“Well,” she started, “we haven’t seen each other in quite a while. So we thought it was about time we spent some time together again.” Her brow furrowed thoughtfully, her mouth hidden behind her glass. “We don’t really have any plans, but we’re most just going to be spending a day or two together. Go to town, see things.” She put the glass down, waving a hoof in a circle. “You know, the standard things.”

It was quite likely that Octavia knew most of the common places in the city, but were there any uncommon ones that she might not know about? The thought ran through Vinyl’s mind as she chewed, the food giving her a convenient excuse to remain silent as she mulled over the options.

There was the zoo, but even if it was relatively new that didn’t make it any less mundane. Zenith’s new bar, perhaps? Not quite the place for family get-togethers, not that she knew Octavia’s parents, but, well, it was a bar, unique and new though it was. “How about museums?” Vinyl asked.

Octavia gave a half-hearted shrug, a look of something like uncertainty across her face. “I don’t know. I can’t really say if it’s to my mothers’ preferences. One of them is… of the right disposition to like that kind of thing, but Ivory.” She grimaced. “I am not so sure.”

It was Vinyl’s turn to look uncertain, her head tilting to one side not unlike a curious pup. “Why not?”

“Let’s just say I did not take after her much in terms of personality.”

Vinyl blinked, then blinked again, and then uttering a single, quiet, “ooh,” before understanding had even really settled in her mind. When it did, however, she said, “so I take it she’s a little bit of an oddball? The one you said wasn’t ‘stiff’, right?”

“Mum? Stiff?” She blinked, cocking her head to one side for a moment. “Oh, right! You saw the picture the other day. But yes, Ivory, or Mum, is the odd one. Chime is the stiff one who is… Let us call her straight laced, shall we?” She asked, a small smile on her lips.

Vinyl returned the smile, for the moment enjoying the gentle buzz of excitement in her chest. “I will take your word for it,” she said, and returned to the food. Octavia did the same.

The rest of the meal was spent in companionable silence, some glances were shared, and a few comments as well, but nothing to ruin the peace that Vinyl, in that moment, coveted.

The quiet did end, of course, and when it did Vinyl was the first to rise. She grabbed both the plates and cutlery in her magic and sent it towards the sink, sparing it only a glance to make sure she aimed right.

“I hope you’re not finished yet,” she said turning back to her guest, crush, friend—whatever it was Octavia was to her, she wasn’t quite sure yet—and leaned forward in her chair, “because I did arrange for desert.” She twisted in her seat again, this time aiming her magic at her small oven. The oven door sprang open and out floated the her steaming apple pie.

“Is that apple I smell?”

Vinyl grinned at Octavia. “It is.” She hovered it over and put it down on the table, replacing the formerly lasagna-filled dish. She looked up from it, resisting the urge to dig in immediately. “I, uuh, actually considered buying fish for the dinner. Just to try it out, you know.” She wrinkled her nose, whether it was distaste or not she didn’t quite know. “Decided against it. Something about it felt off.”

Octavia didn’t seem off-put about it, instead giggling quite amusedly. “I don’t blame you. It’s mostly a pegasus thing, with a few exceptions.” She took a deep breath, visibly composing herself. She looked off towards the window, brow furrowed, then she smirked. “I heard an old story once, actually. An old mare’s tale about how gryphons once interbred with earth ponies, and that’s where pegasi come from. It should also explain why they’re more omnivorous.”

Vinyl snorted. “Hogwash. Science disproved that one a long time ago.”

“I did say it was an old mare’s tale,” Octavia said, pointing a hoof at Vinyl. “Now, how about that pie? I think I can handle at least one slice.”

Vinyl lowered her head in a small, mocking bow. “As you wish,” she said and cut two pieces from the pie and gave one to each of them. Two spoons and a bowl of creme fraiche. “I hope you like this stuff on your pie.” She left a dollop on her own piece and offered it to Octavia, who gave a nod and received one as well.

She received a grateful look in return before they both descended upon the dessert. The first bite had Vinyl thankful that she had chosen this particular dish, and the eagerness—even if polite eagerness—with which Octavia dug in told her enough about her opinion on it as well. She allowed herself a small smile around the spoon.

Octavia leaned back into the couch, a satisfied look on her face, eyes following Vinyl as she went to and fro in the kitchen. She had offered to help clean, but Vinyl had adamantly refused to let her, saying she should instead just enjoy a few moments of quiet, possibly spending some of them looking at the butterfly bush again. Even the offer of remaking the illusion on the flower had been made, but she had politely declined. She had seen what magical overexertion could lead to, and had little interest in contributing to it.

On the topic of the butterfly bush, there was still the matter of the comment Vinyl had made, about her eyes. She had not been quite certain what to make of it when she had said it, and so had simply let it slide. She knew it to be a compliment, and was appreciative of it, but it made her wonder, if—She snorted. No. Or perhaps, maybe? She furrowed her brows and looked out at the lilac bush again, wondering if the compliment had been more than just that. She was probably reading too much into it.

But then again, Vinyl had seen more than a little taken with her when had first greeted her. As Harpo had rightly pointed out—even if he had done it in jest and to rile her up—she was well aware that she was, at the very least, slightly more physically attractive than the average mare, if for no other reason than because she spent a fair amount of her free time training.

Thoughts of training sent through her a pang of irritation. Her hoof found the bandages still covering her wound, now mostly just a very large band aid. It was still sore, and she still could only do the very lightest of working out. If only—

“Is something wrong?”

Octavia looked up, removing her hoof from the bandage and met Vinyl’s concerned face. She willed herself to smile, pushing away her irritation. “No. I was just… thinking.”

“About what?” Vinyl asked, climbing up in the couch as well. Her gaze lingered on the bandage, much to Octavia’s chagrin.

Truth he told, she didn’t want to talk about it anymore. Harpo was still harping her about it, telling her to take it easy, and even Azure had expressed her concerns that she was pushing herself too hard already. Damn it if she was going to just let her body waste away while her wound healed. It was well enough that she could at least trot on the treadmill, and do some simple exercises. She had worked far too hard to reach this point, and she wasn’t about to let it just—

She stopped her own tangent, realising she had been silent and frowning. Vinyl’s eyes had left her injury and now rested on her face, the red alight with concern. She forced herself to breathe out, and for the second time over the course of less minutes than she had hooves, she pushed her irritation at her current predicament away and focused on the happy things: She was in Vinyl’s home, she was a good friend, and they had just eaten a nice dinner.

“This and that,” Octavia said at length, enunciating each word carefully to give herself more time to think. Her injury aside, she did not think it a terribly good idea to mention her thoughts on Vinyl’s earlier compliment. With that in mind she figured that she might as well mention the obvious issue. “I’m just irritated by my wound. A great deal, actually.” She motioned at the bandage with a jerk of her chin. “It is…” She sighed, shaking her head and rolling her shoulders. “I want to say troublesome, but it doesn’t quite cut it.”

“It’s a proverbial thorn in yo—”

“A thorn in my side?” Octavia interrupted, fixing Vinyl, who at least had the self-awareness to look chagrined, with a glower. “Really?”

“Sorry,” she muttered, “slip of the tongue.”

Unbelievable, she thought. If she didn’t know better—did she even know better?—she would have thought Vinyl had been trying to make a joke out of the situation. She eased up on the glower, softening her expression. “Don’t worry about it,” she said, and meant it, “and yes, it feels like a thorn in my side. Like it’s wreaking havoc on my habits and routine.”

Vinyl, who had been nodding along until now and maintained eye contact the entire time, searching for it whenever Octavia herself looked away, spoke up. “I think I understand what you mean. Whenever I use too much magic, I get a few days where I can barely do telekinesis, and it makes even the simplest of things nearly impossible.” She offered Octavia a smile and a tilt of her head. “Something like that, yeah?”

“Something like that, indeed,” she echoed, resting her back against the back couch, staring at the ceiling.

They stayed like that for a while, Octavia staring at the ceiling thoughts racing through her head, and Vinyl watching her in silence.

A part of Octavia wondered what went through the mind of that at mare, if she truly understood what it felt like, to have something robbed from you. It wasn’t just the wound itself that irked her, but what it reminded her of. She wanted to just be rid of it, for the wound to heal, and let her forget and move on.

“We never really got to properly talk about that day,” Vinyl said, catching Octavia’s attention.

She shook her head, then sat up straight again, facing Vinyl. “No, we didn’t. We had brief chats at the hospital, but… No, you’re right. We didn’t talk about it. Truth be told, I didn’t want to.”

Vinyl hummed, and blew a stray hair out of her face. “Now’s as good a time as any, then?”

She pressed her lips into a thin line, jaw clenching. The suggestion had been made so easily, flippant almost, and were she honest she wasn’t certain if she really wanted to broach the subject again. “I’m not sure,” she said slowly. “It’s not exactly a comfortable topic of conversation, how abo—”

“Octavia,” Vinyl interjected, her usually kind eyes taking on a hard edge. Or perhaps not hard, but serious. “I care about you. A lot. We both went through that, so please don’t shut me out.”

She watched Vinyl’s—her friend’s—expression soften immediately after she had said it, the steel in her gaze flickering as she seemed to be quite literally biting her tongue. She was shutting Vinyl out, wasn’t she? Refusing to even broach the subject, it was rather childish wasn’t it?

She let her breath out, forcing herself to relax, easing up on the tenseness in her body. “I was scared,” she said, averting her gaze, deciding that Vinyl did not need to see the emotions play out on her face, even if she had agreed to talk about it. “I’ve trained to defend myself, and to grow strong, but for all the sparring I’ve done, that was the first time anypony has ever wanted to hurt me. More than that, even.” She shuddered, absently feeling Vinyl shuffle closer. “When I saw him blast you with magic like that, I felt so angry that, for just a few moments, my anger just disappeared.”

“I never did get to thank you for that,” Vinyl quietly butted in, smiling when Octavia turned to her with a puzzled look. “You put yourself out there for my sake, and that means a lot.” She chucked. “And you beat some serious flank, too.”

Leave it to Vinyl to ease the tension of a serious moment, with but a single sentence, Octavia thought, having been pulled out of the funk that came with reliving the experience.

“I was scared too,” Vinyl added, now sounding as somber as Octavia felt. She, however, didn’t look away. “I’m a strong unicorn, but that strength doesn’t mean I don’t get scared. Getting thrown against the wall stunned me, and when I came to I saw you kicking, and them screaming as you took them on, twenty against one.”

“It wasn’t that many.”

Vinyl snorted, for a second humour glinted in her eyes again. ”I know, but it seemed like it.” Then she snorted, and the humour was gone. “But I saw you there, beating the snot out of them one after the other. And I had hope that you could actually beat them, but then—”

“—Then they stabbed me,” Octavia finished, nodding. She still remembered the pain; remembered feeling the blade slip through her rips and grace her lung. She sighed and bit her lip, wanting once more to change the topic but choosing not to. Not yet, anyway. “I don’t blame you, by the way.”

She looked up, blinking. “What?”

“In case you felt guilty,” Octavia elaborated. “You couldn’t have known they would be there. I don’t blame you for it happening.”

“Oh.” Vinyl’s expression fell, her brows furrowing. “You know, I hadn’t even considered it, but I think you’re right. I probably would have blamed myself for it at some point… thank you.”

Now it was Octavia’s turn to brighten the mood, offering as kind and bright a smile as she could. “I never expected thanks for it, Vinyl. I would never blame you for it.”

“Okay,” she said, now no longer looking so crestfallen. “I should also say, I don’t think you failed me, either. I was so impressed with you, and it’s not your fault there were so many.”

Octavia nodded, slowly. ”I know,” she said, certain of that fact. “I still wish I could have done more. Wish I could—” Vinyl’s hoof on her nose stopped her in her tracks, her eyes crossing in the time it took her to realise what it was.

“None of that,” Vinyl insisted. “You did what you could, and that was that. I will forever be grateful for it, okay?” Octavia nodded mutely. “Good,” she said, and moved forward suddenly, wrapping her front legs around Octavia’s neck and pulling her into a hug.

Octavia stiffened at the touch, biting back a yelp. It wasn’t the hug she was averse to, but wounds that had yet to heal. “Vinyl,” she said, “remove your hooves please.”

Fast as she had initiated the embrace, Vinyl moved away, her cheeks bright with what Octavia assumed to be shame. “Sorry, I just… Felt like the right moment.”

“It’s not that,” Octavia said, shaking her head and scooting closer herself. “I’m not opposed to a hug, just, no hooves please?”

Vinyl nodded and tentatively moved closer again, craning her neck and briefly nuzzling against Octavia’s chin. As she had promised, her hooves remained firmly on the couch, and she instead just rested her head on Octavia’s withers, as Octavia did to her.

“Thank you for the talk, Vinyl. I think I did need to get it off my chest.”

Author's Note

Hello everybody.

"Chapter 16 is already in the works" I said nearly three years ago. In my defence, it was, buuut... Time stole everything away.

As mentioned in my blog I wrote a Gdoc containing the outline of my plans for the rest of the story. I hope you find it interesting, as I didn't want to leave you guys without closure. It's not much, but I wanted to leave you with what I had in mind for the end.

Until next time, folks!

Chapter 9 - Blooming Buds

“So what do you think of her?” Lyra asked, fixing Vinyl Scratch with a knowing smile. They had just placed their orders for their lunch, and now sat on either side of a table in the middle of the establishment. The building itself was a half circle, the counter in the middle being a half circle itself, making the seating area a crescent shape. On either side of the counter was a door from where waiters went out with platters of food, or in with empty plates. Mahogany furniture dominated the restaurant; dark, wooden tables and chairs—a few tables with only cushions—were spread out interspersedly.

There was a pleasant amount of background noise, just enough to mask their own conversation from other patrons, but low enough that it didn’t require them to speak louder than they usually would. It was, in all, a pleasant place to be; the numerous smells of dozens of different dishes included.

Vinyl leaned back in her chair, having allowed Lyra to convince her to take off her shades and now sat without them. Her lips were pressed into a thin line as she sought the blue-painted ceiling above them for answers. She had expected the question to come sooner or later. That’s just how Lyra was; a tease. Either that or she saw something that Vinyl wasn’t quite sure even existed. “I don’t know,” she murmured, eyes still fixed on the ceiling. “She’s nice, pretty, and quite sweet, if that’s what you’re asking.” She turned her gaze down to the mint green unicorn in front of her, giving her a sour look.

Lyra sat with her head rested on her hooves, giving Vinyl a half-lidded look that spoke of lies being seen through. Or, at the very least, half-truths being spotted for what they were. “Are you sure that’s all?” She asked. “You could barely take your eyes off of her during the entire concert.”

Sighing in resignation, Vinyl rubbed her eyes. “Alright, alright.” She groaned. “She’s not just pretty, but beautiful. She’s not arrogant or stuck-up like most ponies in this Luna-damned city, but actually seems to treat others with respect, aside from—” she stopped, her brows furrowing in thought. She said nothing for the longest time, staring off into space. In the meantime the waiter came with their respective dishes and left again.

“What is it, Vinyl?” Lyra asked, picking up the utensils in her magic.

“Have you noticed how she sometimes acts around pegasi, or even earth ponies?” She picked up her own fork and knife, and slowly started to eat, gears turning furiously in her head.

At once Lyra’s face become contemplative, thinking back to the few times she’d been with Octavia recently, and back to their university times. The more memories she dug up, the more confused to seemed to get. “I’m not sure I know what you’re talking about. I mean, there was that one guy during the concert earlier that she never looked at?” She paused, revelation slowly dawning on her. “You remember that fat stallion who sat down beside her? I almost swear I saw her wince.”

Vinyl nodded gravely. “I saw that too. She certainly didn’t look very happy, and never looked his way.” Her lips pursed. “I mean, she’s an earth pony herself, so why should she have trouble with other earth ponies? And there’s no problem with unicorns? Not that I’ve seen, at least. I mean, we’re both spiral heads, and she seems fine with us.”

“That, dear Vinyl, is because she’s crushing on you, and I’m just that charismatic.” Vinyl shot Lyra a sour look, to which she responded with, “I jest, Vinyl… Mostly. But I don’t think she has any problems with unicorns. Just earth ponies and pegasi.”

“And that’s what worries me.” She spun her fork in the pasta and lifted it to her mouth, chewing. “And before you say anything, I know, ‘I don’t know her very well’, but I still worry,” she said, swallowing and then continued. “If you want me to admit it, then I will; I like Octavia. Still only a bit of a crush, but it’s there—” she met Lyra’s grin with an almost exasperated look “—and you don’t have to say ‘I called it’. I know you did already.” Lyra giggled shortly, but said nothing more, prompting Vinyl the continue. “Anyway, she doesn’t seem to have a problem with unicorns as you say, but that only makes me question why. I mean, what could make somepony feel uncomfortable about two thirds of the entire population? It makes me shudder just to think about it.”

Lyra nodded gravely, busying herself with her own food of roasted vegetables spiced with a variety of exotic spices. “I can see what you mean. I haven’t known her well for longer than you have, only really sharing a passing greeting when we met back at the university, but aside from that I’ve been her friend only for as long as you have. And even then… I can’t help but want to know why she’s the way she is, and… I want to help somehow.” She sighed and took another bite, scowling at how little food there seemed to be. It seemed that expensive restaurants like this one thought that the less there was on the plate, the more it should cost.

The next half hour passed, the two of them finishing their meals and then ordering desserts comprised of a bowl of ice cream for Lyra, and a slice of cheesecake for Vinyl. Both of these were devoured in short order, satisfied sighs following the last bite of each. They called the waiter in short order, Vinyl paying for their lunch before Lyra could object, a small purse rattling with coins flashing into existence on the table. The waiter took it, thanking them both and left with their empty plates and bowls in tow.

Behind him Vinyl had a hoof to her forehead right underneath her horn, groaning. “Oow. Shouldn’t have done that.”

Lyra just smirked. “Too much magic today?” She asked.

“Well what do you think?” She groaned again, rubbing her temples. “It’s not easy being me.” She said nothing for a while, clearing her headache and dizziness first. Once past, she gazed out the window, contemplating. “Hey, Lyra, do you know where Octavia lives? I’d… like to visit her, see if she’s alright and all.”

“As well as being together with her, alone?” The mint-green unicorn teased, though dropped it almost immediately. “Teasing aside, I don’t know her exact address, although I know in what neighbourhood she lives… more or less, at least.”

Vinyl shrugged, standing up from the chair. “It’s better than nothing. Perhaps I’m lucky and she’s out and about.”

“It’s worth a shot,” Lyra said, picking up Vinyl’s shades and putting them on her nose before the other mare could do anything. She then headed towards the door, motioning for Vinyl to follow. Once outside she pointed down the street, towards where they’d come from earlier. “The theatre we were at is that way. If you go down there it’s about half an hour walk from there. Do you know the Jumping Records shop?” Vinyl nodded. “Right, follow along the road where that one’s on, and it’s a block down or so. You’ll find Octavia in the apartment complex there, surrounding by row houses. I can’t tell you exactly how far, but the street she lives on is somewhere along the same road as Jumping Records.”

“I think I know the place. Thanks.” She turned to Lyra, giving the smaller mare a hug. “Thanks, Lyra. Hoping I’ll find her then. I’ll see you soon.”

“You too, Vinny. See ya!” Lyra waved as Vinyl started down the walkway at a canter, a certain spring in her steps. The mint green unicorn couldn’t quite help a smile at that. “I hope it works out for you two. Goddesses knows you could use a fillyfriend.” She chuckled and headed the other way, intent on reading a bit once she got home.

Vinyl scrunched up her nose in distaste. “Told you to stop calling me that five years ago.”

The sun was well past its zenith as Vinyl trudged along the cobbled streets, hooves clopping with each step, only adding to the massive choir that was the Canterlot streets in the mid afternoon. It had been three quarters of an hour since she had left the restaurant where she and Lyra had their lunch, the time since then having been spent playing melodies in her head, violin and not.

She had cast her mind back to when she and Octavia had had their first recording session just two days prior, and how Octavia had sounded then. A faint smile found its way to her lips, not only because of the memory of the cellist, but because of the way she played. She’d seen a lot of different cello players in her time as a musician and DJ. She played in a way that was, at once, both according to what the composer had in mind, but she also added her own flair to it; making it a piece that was her own in a way that couldn’t so much be described as heard.

I don’t even think Heart Strings can play quite like that, she mused, pursing her lips. Heart Strings was good, certainly, but there was just something about Octavia. As if she enjoyed playing more than any other she had ever heard play. A smile came unbidden to her lips as her memory turned towards Pachelbel’s canon, the piece Octavia had played for her in the studio. The melody, exactly as the cellist had played it, repeated in her mind as she continued down the streets, finding Jumpin’ Records soon after.

She stopped and looked around, dozen of ponies of all ages and colours were all around her, going about their business. Lyra had told her that Octavia’s home would be around here, or somewhere a little further down the road. But where exactly? No divine intervention came to help her find the way, however, so she trudged on, head turning this way and that way in the hopes of spotting Octavia, or at least something that could lead her to her.

As luck would have it, the very pony she was looking for almost walked into her, Octavia stopping just short of crashing into Vinyl, a hoof on the other’s shoulder to stop her in her tracks. She carried a pair of saddlebags brimming with groceries, everything from salad to cheese filling the bags. She was pulled to the side of the street by Octavia, gently guided by her hoof.

“Didn’t expect to see you here,” she said, removing her hoof from Vinyl’s shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“I was on my way to visit you,” she admitted, seeing no sense in hiding it.

“But you don’t even know where I live,” Octavia commented with an amused smile.

“Which is exactly why I was looking for you right now! Anyway, I wanted to visit you, see how you were doing and all that.” She sidled up besides Octavia, silently requesting that she continue walking so she could follow. “I hope you don’t mind a visit.”

“Of course not.” She started walking the way Vinyl had come from, gesturing with her head for her to follow.

Nothing is said between them for the first few minutes, both of them staying silent. Until Vinyl caught Octavia glancing at her out the corner of her eye. “What’re you looking at?” Vinyl asked, letting just the tiniest smirk tug at the corner of her lips.

“Nothing,” Octavia hastily replied. “I was just wondering why you wanted to visit me, is all. I don’t have an awful lot of friends that regularly visit me.”

Vinyl kicked a pebble along the sidewalk, watching it bounce before coming to a stop on the edge of it, balancing precariously before tipping onto the street. “Well,” she began, kicking another pebble out onto the street, “I just wanted to see how you were, maybe spend a bit of time together. And I wanted to ask you something.” Octavia glanced her way again, cocking her head in a silent enquiry. “I just noticed that you… No.” Vinyl shook her head, banishing the thoughts. “Nevermind.”

A look of perplexion passed over the cellist’s face, her lavender eyes scouring Vinyl’s face for any tell of what she might have wanted to ask. She didn’t find any clues. “If you say so,” she said, shrugging. They continued on, coming to a stop before a large apartment block. Octavia unlocked the door and headed inside with Vinyl at her heels. “Second floor,” she commented and started heading up the stairs.

Octavia’s apartment was a rather simple affair, though still rather sizeable. From the door you entered a small hallway, three doors on the left side, one on the right, and a final one at the end of the hallway. Octavia headed into the first on their left, which turned out to be a kitchen and went about putting away the groceries.

“Nice place,” Vinyl said, glancing about and slowly walking further in. Two pictures hung on the right wall, one of a younger Octavia with her cello—Aw. She’s adorable—and a second one of a seapony on top of a boulder in the middle of the ocean. Continuing down the hallway she came upon the door on the right side, seeing that it lead into the livingroom. It was spacious, with a dining table and four chairs standing in the far left corner, by the windows which gave a clear outlook over the streets below. A series of bookcases lined the wall to the left of the door, filled to the brim with tomes both old and new, as well as several folders of sheet music. On the right side was a fireplace with two chairs and a small bar cupboard in between. Finally, her eyes were drawn to a small coffee table in the far right corner, with two sofas on either side fit for two ponies each.

“I reiterate, nice place,” Vinyl said as Octavia came in behind her, standing side by side with the unicorn. “But I’ve gotta ask—” she pointed at the fireplace “—what’s up with that? Where does the smoke go?”

“First of all, thanks. I like my place too. Second of all, there’s a series of pipes running through the walls that gathers up the smoke from what few apartments actually have a fireplace, and leads it to a larger pipe that ends in a chimney on the roof. There’s a hole in the top of the fireplace, if you wanna look.”

“I like my white coat, thank you for the offer, though.” She glanced behind her out into the hallway. “Say, where’s the toilet and such?”

“The toilet’s the one here at the end of the hall. Right in front of us—” Octavia pointed at the door directly opposite to the living room “—is my bedroom, and the last one is where I practice.”

“I only asked about the bathroom, but thanks nonetheless.”

Octavia smiled understandingly. “I know, but I figured I might as well tell you so you didn’t accidentally walk into my bedroom.”

Vinyl nodded. “Gotcha.” Looking down the hallway, her eyes fell upon the door to the practice room. “Say, our last session got cut short. Do you think you’d want to play a bit for me? But only if you want to, of course.”

The cellist seemed pensive for a moment, but that expression was soon replaced by a warmer one; kind and welcoming. “I don’t see why not. I’m afraid I don’t have a set of instruments you’ll want to play, however.” She started for the room, pushing open the door and heading inside. Inside was a small number of instruments: A cello, a piano, a large harp and a violin.

“Violin, huh?” Vinyl walked up to it, looking it over. The craftsmanship was good; the wood was polished to perfection, and every string was taut and tuned as they should be. She looked over her shoulder, meeting Octavia’s amethyst eyes. “I didn’t peg you for someone to play the violin,” she said, turning back to the violin to keep the blush on her cheeks from showing. Goddesses, those eyes. It’s not fair.

“Well, I don’t, really. I don’t think it’s much of a surprise that I’m quite the fan of Melodia, so I bought a violin to try to learn how to play it.” She walked up besides Vinyl—close enough to touch, Vinyl noted—and looked upon the instrument fondly. “I can play it a little bit, but not so much. We’re talking a handful of children’s songs, but that’s about it. What about you? Do you think you can play it?” The question was accompanied by a playful nudge.

Vinyl, rather than verbally retort, stuck her tongue out at Octavia, prompting a short giggle. “I can play a… little bit of violin. It helps to know how to play different instruments when mixing together songs.” She cleared her throat and turned to the piano. “And what about this one? You can play that one, too?”

Octavia shook her head. “Can’t say I do. I’ve been meaning to start practicing, but I haven’t been able to pull myself together and start.” She nodded towards her cello, walking over to it. She opened it carefully, pulling out the marvel of polished, black wood and string. “This, however, is where I shine.” She turned back to Vinyl, rearing up on her hind legs after picking up the bow.

Vinyl silently watched her, eyes focusing on the gentle pull of the bow, the flex of her foreleg with each movement the cellist made. She hadn’t quite noticed before, but every bit of Octavia’s body was as well kept as anyone she’d ever seen. Every muscle shifting subtly beneath the skin, was the result of years of hard training. She let her gaze fall, admiring the curves and contours of Octavia’s body, thankful for her shades masking her staring. I knew earth ponies were supposed to be strong and all, but she looks far more fit than anyone I’ve ever seen. Not buff, but… Okay, careful Girl, don’t start drooling. She shook her head, forcefully dislodging and shoving away thoughts that had no place in polite society. “You look good,” she said, then, earning a raised eyebrow from Octavia—not as if offended, but in a silent enquiry. Vinyl hurried to elaborate; “Poise, grace, and power. You look dignified like that; on two legs, bow held on your fetlock. Forgive me for saying so, ‘Tavi, but you look pretty damn good like that.” The corner of her lips pulled into a teasing smile. “I think even Melodia would be impressed by that.”

Blinking, Octavia soon let herself smile. “Thank you, Vinyl, but flattery will get you nowhere.” She chuckled and put the bow to the strings, drawing a single note from it. She looked up from the strings at Vinyl. “You can sit on the piano stool if you want. You wanted me to play for you, right?”

“Right,” she muttered, pulling the stool into the middle of the room. “What do you want to play?” Vinyl asked.

A momentary look of perplexion washed over Octavia, her nose scrunching up and her brows furrowing. “I don’t know.” She looked down at Vinyl. “Just something? I believe you call it ‘Jamming’ or something along those lines. I just play, sometimes. It’s a good way to get the thoughts flowing.”

“I getcha,” Vinyl replied, grinning from ear to ear. “Just play whatever the heck you want just for the hell of it.”

She once more placed the bow upon the strings, testing them with a single, slow note. She nodded in satisfaction and pulled the first note, a quiet one, and then started playing whatever came to mind.

It was with slow, mellow, tunes that she started the piece, alternating between different low notes. It started formless, simple notes being played one after another, but slowly they started to form together to a slow melody.

It was like nothing she’d ever heard before, Vinyl decided. Nor seen for that matter. Her eyes seemed glued to Octavia as she swayed with every note she drew with her bow. She thought it told a story, one made up at the same time as the music itself. She had always been good at visualising music; having scenarios, pictures, places, appear in her mind’s eye as she listened or played. This time she saw flashes of great expanses of land, armies marching, and snow falling. Dragons and gryphons flew overhead, unicorn magi squaring off against each other.

She found herself smiling, letting the images flash by as they came, paying no particular heed to any one of them, and simply let them come and go as they pleased. And all the while she never once removed her gaze from Octavia, her eyes fixed on that serene expression that had fallen over her face. The Zone, I believe they call it, Vinyl thought, starting to sway in tandem. I know it all too well. For the longest time she sat there, watching Octavia as she played, going through impromptu piece after piece. No two were alike, and none already existing. It all melded together in a long string of delightful music that let the both of them forget that such a thing as time existed.

All of three hours had passed before Octavia moved the bow from the strings, opening her eyes for the first time since she had begun. She let out a breath, wiping her fringes out of her eyes with her right hoof. When she looked at Vinyl, she was met with a round of applause as loud as a single mare could make it, the sound of Vinyl’s stomping hooves filling the room.

“I take it you liked it?” Octavia asked, sounding exhausted. Vinyl couldn’t blame her. Even she didn’t practice for this long without breaks, her hindlegs would get sore.

“I did,” she replied almost instantly. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard someone play uninterrupted like that for so long, without a single break or even a stutter. I mean, all of it was improvised! And not a single pause or anything!”

Octavia beamed at the praise, making to put the cello back in its case. Vinyl closed the lid for her, using the time it took for Octavia to lock it to sidle up against her, throwing an arm around her shoulders. “You’ll be a star one day,” she assured the cellist. “I can feel it, ‘in me old bones’ and all that.”

“I hope so, at least,” Octavia said, nodding. “Becoming a permanent member of the Canterlot Symphony rather than a stand-in member because their cellist got sick. Don’t get me wrong, it was a great opportunity to play there, and it gave my group and I a fair bit of publicity, but I would much rather have a seat among them on a more personal basis.”

“I getcha. So that’s why you were there. Thinking about it, I did wonder where I’d seen you when we first met.”

“You were at the Gala?” The expression on Octavia’s face was one of mild bewilderment, which turned into a teasing smile. She withdrew from Vinyl’s side-hug and stood so they were face-to-face. “You, of all ponies, were at the Gala?”

Vinyl, too, adopted a puzzled look, cocking her head. “Yeah? Of course I was. I mean, it’s not that difficult to get a ticket.” She was met with a playfully deadpan look. “Okay… maybe it is a bit difficult. But you remember how I said I knew Rarity?” Octavia nodded. “Well, she’s not the only contact I have among the more… prestigious ponies, if you will.”

“Such as?” The cellist pried, smirking. If one were to judge by her facial expression, it seemed as if she didn’t quite believe it.

“The—uuh—De Lis family. Fleur De Lis, especially.”

“The De Lis family?” Vinyl nodded. “I’ll admit, I hadn’t seen that one coming. Still, though, how? I don’t mean offense, but you’re just a DJ. How do you know these ponies?”

“I’d rather not say. Rarity I know because we met long ago when we were just fillies. Became pen pals when she and her parents moved to Ponyville. The De Lis family…” Her lips drew into a thing line.

“Business secret?” Octavia supplied.

“Business secret. Let’s say it just sort of happened, a long time ago.”

She shrugged, seeming satisfied then, much to Vinyl’s relief. “I won’t pry then. Promise. Also, do you want something to eat? It’s only around four, but we could grab an early dinner if you want.”

“I’m good,” Vinyl said. “I’m not quite hungry yet, at least. Maybe in a bit? Unless, of course, you really want something to eat. They do say earth ponies have really large appetites and all that.” She added the last part with a fair amount of good humour sprinkled over her words.

A pained expression flashed across Octavia’s face, gone as quickly as it had come. She quickly recovered and rolled her eyes. “Oh hardy har har. I’m not so sure that they have a much larger appetite than pegasi or unicorns.”

“How do you know?” Vinyl continued unabated.

“I’m looking at the evidence of it,” she shot back, poking Vinyl’s flank with a hoof. “If the size of this is of any indication, I dare say you unicorns have quite the appetite, too.”

Huffing, Vinyl spun away with an expression of mock anger. “Hey, I just have wide hips. Ain’t nothing bad about that on a filly.”

“I won’t disagree with you on that,” Octavia conceded with a brief chuckle. “Anyways, let’s go to the living room. At least there we can both sit down.”

“Right behind ya.” Vinyl issued a sharp salute, following Octavia into the living room and onto the sofa, taking a seat.

“I’ve been meaning to ask,” Octavia started, sitting down besides Vinyl. “People say there’s something special about your shows. Different, even, than others. What exactly is it? I will admit to not have had a whole lot of interest before meeting you, but now that I’ve known gotten to know you a bit I’ve gotten a little bit curious.” Vinyl chuckled, prompting a perplexed look from Octavia. “What?”

“Nothing. It’s nothing. I just didn’t peg you for someone who even knew anything about club music, much less about what I did on my shows.”

“Well I do,” she huffed, crossing her front legs across her chest. Her pretence at being offended cracked soon after, in part due to Vinyl’s playful smile. She sighed, shaking her head as the beginning of a smile tugged at her lips.

“I’ll be nice, I promise. But, well, the thing I suppose is different with my shows is that I do the lightwork myself. You know, the spotlight, lasers, all that stuff.”

“So you’re both the light technician and the DJ?”

Vinyl scratched her head, thinking of a way to explain it easily. “Well, yes and no. I do the DJ’ing and stuff, but I’m not a light technician. I don’t actually use normal lights and such. I use magic—illusory magic, actually. Coloured light rays like lasers and such are easy to make, and a spotlight isn’t much different. Just larger and without the fancy colours.”

Octavia sat cross-eyed, evidently thinking deeply on the new information given to her. “So you’re a… light-mancer?” She asked, seeming uncertain about the term if her expression was anything to go by.

“Not quite. I’m an Illusionist. It’s what I’m best at, even if I’m also able to use other schools of magic. We do use light to make our illusions, however.” She lit her horn, about to cast a spell, when she winced, pain shooting through her horn.

“What’s wrong?” Octavia’s voice cut through the pain, prompting Vinyl to look up as the pain abated.

“Horn hurts. I’ve used too much magic lately.” She sat back up straight, forcing away the last vestiges of pain. “Don’t worry about it. I wanted to show you a little illusion as an example, but I was a dummy.” She smiled sheepishly. “So yeah, I’m alright.”

“If you say so.” Despite Vinyl’s reassurances, she didn’t seem entirely convinced. The concerned look in her eyes stayed put for a short while, but disappeared once no more winces came from the DJ.

Vinyl opened her mouth to say something, but was preempted by a growling sound. Understanding as to where it had come from dawned upon her when she met the eyes of an embarrassed Octavia. “Hungry?” She asked.

“I guess I am now.” She glanced at the clock she had hanging on the wall. “Sixteen thirty. Good a time as any to start making dinner. Anything in particular you’d like?” She asked, standing up.

She thought it, rubbing her chin with a hoof. “Nah. I don’t have any preferences. You?”

Nodding, Octavia headed for the door, stopping shortly before it as if she’d just remembered something. She craned her neck to look at Vinyl over her shoulder, asking, “How do you like fish?”

“Eh?” She could not have been certain, but if she had to bet Vinyl would say her own expression was similar to that of the Princess of Magic when she was told she had become something akin to a demigod. At the very least, she knew that she looked about as puzzled as anypony ever. “Fish? Isn’t that only for pegasi?”

The Cellist appeared more like a filly who had been caught with her hoof in the cookie jar; fidgeting with her hooves, cheeks red with embarrassment, and averting any sort of eye contact. “Well, no,” she admitted at length. “It is mostly pegasi that eat fish as they’re the only omnivorous ponies. There are a few others that sometimes eat it as well.”

A feeling of concern pushed away any confusion as to the odd question. Octavia wasn’t just embarrassed, but seem nervous. Afraid, even. Vinyl quickly raised her hooves, making Octavia pause her fidgeting for long enough to let Vinyl get a word in. “Sorry, sorry. Shouldn’t have pried.” She let her hooves down, fixing her friend with a friendly smile. “I’m not going to judge you for eating fish. In fact, if it helps, I’d be willing to try some. Won’t make any promises, but hey, it might be good.”

That seemed to do the trick. Steadily, though not exactly quickly, the anxiety bled away from Octavia, leaving behind a much calmer mare. “Thanks,” she said, though not elaborating what she was thanking her for. “And I’ll make sure to make enough so that, even if you don’t like it, you won’t go hungry.” She turned away, trotting towards the kitchen with a, “I promise!”

Vinyl let herself relax then, slipping deeper into the sofa. That reaction was nothing like she’d expected. It was understandable that she might be slightly embarrassed at eating fish, but it had been way beyond simple embarrassment. She was anxious. Seemed frightened, even. Her brows furrowed, lips pulling into a thin line. She turned it over in her head at least a dozen times, coming no closer to why she’d seemed so nervous over something so simple. Unless… She couldn’t be? She snorted, waving a hoof as if that would dissipate the idea. Nah. Can’t be a pegasus. Even if she’d been a cripple, there would still have been some signs of it. Remains of the wing joints, or something. She stood up, leaving the idea behind on the couch as she started looking around the living room.

It was spacious, though aside from that it wasn’t very special. There were a few smaller photographs which dotted the walls here and there, one of which—Vinyl noted—was of Octavia in her late teens, with a pair of mares on either side of her, both of them pegasi. One was sky blue with two-toned mane and tail; each of these tones darker than the fur. That one had a wide grin on her face, smiling at the camera with a sort of pride only a parent could have. The other, while still smiling, looked more down to earth—Irony at its best, Vinyl thought—and sported a light, lavender coat and a sandy blonde mane and tail.

“Adopted,” Vinyl muttered. “Or artificial insemination.” She glanced at Octavia in the picture, then back at the two mares. “Adopted. Not a single colour matches.”

“I trust that’s not a problem?” Came Octavia’s voice from behind, eliciting a yelp from Vinyl as she turned around quickly.

“Of course not,” the unicorn replied once she’d gotten over the shock. She turned around to the picture again, finding herself unable to not smile. “I mean, you look so happy in this picture. Why would I have a problem with it?”

“You’d be surprised,” Octavia replied with a roll of her eyes. “Some people can be judgemental as all tartarus.” She jerked her head towards the kitchen, prompting Vinyl to follow, as she continued talking. “I remember when a reporter came to me after I had played at the Gala, and asked how I felt now that the Gala had been a fiasco, just like my ‘real’—” she stopped for a second to add air quotes to the word “—family had been as well.”

“How’d he even find out?”

“No idea,” Octavia grumbled. “Nor do I really care. Dinner’s finished, though, could you help me take it in?”

Vinyl nodded, catching up on the not-so-subtle hint that it was a topic for another time. She went to pick up a large bowl of what looked to be pasta salad with half a dozen fruits and vegetable pieces added to it. She held the edge of the bowl with her teeth, mirrored by Octavia as she took a small plate from the oven with two filets of fish. She had to admit, they looked surprisingly good, even if they smelled weird. Following Octavia back into the living room, they went about decorating the table, setting out glasses, dishes, and cutlery .

Taking a seat opposite her friend, Vinyl picked up her knife and fork, ready to eat, when a lance of pain shot through her horn once more, causing her to drop them with a clang of metal on wood. She groaned, bringing a hoof to her the base of her horn. “I’m an idiot,” she ground out between gritted teeth. Like before, she forced the pain away, not wanting to disturb their dinner. Octavia gave her a look of concern which she did her best to wave off, insisting that there was no cause for concern.

“Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure,” Vinyl insisted, picking up her fork with a hoof, thankful for never having bothered to remove the small magnet inserted in her hoof once she learned telekinesis. She’d been told time and again how it was only foals who hadn’t yet learned to use their magic, as well as earth ponies and pegasi, that used the hoof-magnet to hold their cutlery. Who knew the occasional bout of laziness would help me down the road.

It was awkward to eat like this after so many years, but she bore with it, insisting that she could do it, even if she dropped the occasional piece of pasta back onto the plate. Much to her dismay, the fish didn’t taste as good as it looked, and so she admitted to Octavia, offering up her piece to the cellist which she graciously accepted, eating it with glee.

“You like it that much?” Vinyl asked, chuckling. She’d finished a short time before, having reclined in her seat with a content look on her face.

“Of course. I think they’re good, at least. You liked the salad?”

“I did. Best one I’ve had in a long time. Thank you.” She gave her belly a single pat as if to reinforce her statement. “You’re a great cook, I’ll admit. Even better than Mr. Baguet, I dare say.”

“Mr. Baguet?” Octavia asked, humorous disbelief heavy in her voice.

“Well, uuh… It’s what we called my mom sometimes,” Vinyl hesitantly replied. Now it was her turn to have burning cheeks. Embarrassed from having let that detail slip.

“Uhuh. If you say so, Vinyl.” She stood up and took both their plates to the kitchen, Vinyl helping. “Say, if you help me clean up, should I walk you home? I’d like to see where you live, if you don’t mind.”

Vinyl nodded, putting both their glasses into the sink, turning on the water. “I’d like that,” she admitted, smiling. “Where’s the dish soap?”

Octavia opened the cupboard beneath the sink, pulling out a bottle of dish soap. “Here.”

“Thanks. Now… How to do this without magic.” She looked down at her hooves, grimacing. This was going to be difficult.

Thankfully, it wasn’t quite as difficult as she had expected it to be. Octavia being there as well, made quick work of the dishes, and after only ten minutes they were done.

Vinyl dried her hooves off, returning the rag to the hook where she’d found it.

“Anything else you need help with?” Vinyl asked, turning around to Octavia who was putting away the last of the bowls they had used for the salad.

She shook her head and closed the cupboard. “No. We’re ready to go if you want. You’re welcome to stay a bit longer if you want, though.”

Vinyl paused, glancing out the window on the wall opposite the door. She wouldn’t mind staying for longer. She enjoyed Octavia’s company, but… She shook her head. “Thanks Octavia, but no thanks. I wouldn’t want to intrude, and I also need to get home to rest.” She pointed at her horn. “Need to make sure this thing gets back in good condition. Can’t do light shows without it, after all.”

Offering a small smile, Octavia walked out the kitchen and to the front door, waiting for Vinyl to follow. “You wouldn’t be intruding, but I get what you mean. Must be dreadfully boring to spend time with little old me.”

“Not at all!” Vinyl objected, perhaps a little too quickly if the light blush on Octavia’s cheeks were anything to go by. “I mean, you’re nice and fun to be with. An interesting pony, and intelligent to boot, so why shouldn’t I like to spend time with you?”

Octavia’s blush faded, replaced by a playfully exasperated look. She rolled her eyes, smiling, and opened the door to the stairwell outside. “Right. If you say so.” She walked out, Vinyl following.

“It’s already almost dark,” Vinyl said as they crossed the street, looking up at the stars winking forth from the encroaching blackness of the night. They had left from Octavia’s half an hour before, and by then it had been relatively light out. Now, however, the moon was rising, and the sun setting.

“That, dear Vinyl, is because it’s autumn now. They changed from summer to autumn just yesterday.” She glanced at the unicorn, eyes twinkling at the chance to tease her a little bit. “I suspect you do know how the seasons work? The days are shorter during autumn than they are during the summer, and—”

“And the winter days are shorter than autumn, I get it Tavi. You don’t have to rub it in.” While her tone of voice was that of someone exasperated, she couldn’t help but joining in on Octavia’s chuckles. “So let me get this straight,” she began after a short while. “Summer days are shorter than spring days, correct?”

“No, Vinyl. Summer days are longer than spring days. I swear to Celestia, you’re insufferable when you get like this.”

“And you like it, don’t try claiming otherwise,” Vinyl said with a grin, poking Octavia in the shoulder.

Octavia hesitated, glancing up at the sky. “Maybe,” she said at length, smirking cheekily at Vinyl. “Maybe I do.” She stuck her tongue out at Vinyl, causing the other to grin.

“There’s a shortcut if we pass through here,” Vinyl said suddenly, nodding towards an alley running perpendicular to the street they were on. It was clear that not a lot of ponies actually used it, as evident by the loose cobblestones visible along the entirety of what was visible of it.

“You sure it’s safe?” Octavia asked, sounding hesitant all of a sudden. “I mean, it’s dark already. Shouldn’t we take the route where there are other ponies? Main street and such?”

Vinyl chuckled, though not in a demeaning way. “Relax, Tavi. I use this shortcut all the time, and I’ve never encountered trouble. It’s safe, I promise.”

Though she still looked hesitant, Octavia nodded and dutifully followed Vinyl into the alley. It wasn’t as well lit as the other streets in the city, but there was still enough that one could see where things were. There were no shops here, either, only old houses for those who just wanted someplace to live, regardless of its quality.

They continued on for another few minutes, chatting between each other. It wasn’t until a voice called out to them from in front that they stopped. “Well well. What do we have here?”

Vinyl and Octavia stopped, looking towards the new voice, coming face to face with a group of both stallions and mares, each with a look on them that screamed trouble. Vinyl and Octavia took a step back, prompting the stallion who had spoken to smirk.

“Something the matter?” He asked, stepping closer, the light of a nearby lamp post revealing his short, brown mane and beige coat. Atop his head sprouted a long horn, marking him a unicorn. Four ponies stood behind him, each with as intimidating as the others.

Glancing behind them, Vinyl saw four other stallions, each with lecherous grins on their faces. How hadn’t they noticed them? We were too busy talking! She glanced at Octavia, surprised to finding her friend with a look of pure defiance on her face rather than fear. She looked forward again, adopting a similar look of defiance. The stallion simply grinned at them.

“And here I thought you’d appreciate a bit of company.” He raised an eyebrow, grin widening enough to show his teeth, surprisingly white. “Or am I mistaken?”

Vinyl gritted her teeth, trying to force magic through her horn. She winced as the ache returned, although not as severe as it had been earlier. A few sparks were all that she amounted to, something which the leader of these thugs noticed.

He laughed and turned to a muscular unicorn stallion behind him. “Hey, Bolster, show her some real magic, would ya?”

The unicorn stallion in question stepped up to the side of their leader, his horn lighting up. Vertigo assaulted all of Vinyl’s senses as she was enveloped in a powerful magical grasp, lifted off of the ground, and thrown. For a moment everything went black as pain erupted from everywhere. She slid down from the wall, groaning as another wave of pain hit her from the short fall. Laughter accompanied her groans.

She could hear Octavia screaming her name, terror filling her voice. I’m sorry, Octavia, she thought, struggling to open open her eyes. I didn’t know. She lay silent, still fighting to remain conscious. Everything hurt. She didn’t think she’d broken anything, but… She realised something, suddenly. The laughter had stopped, replaced instead by the sound of shouting. But it wasn’t Octavia’s voice. It was the others.

She ignored the blood dripping into her eyes, from where her shattered shades had cut open her brow, and cracked an eye open. She saw something she would never have expected. Octavia was a whirling monstrosity of anger and desperation, kicking and punching wildly, but coordinated. Already two of the thugs lay unconscious on the ground, a third joining them as Octavia delivered a rib-crushing kick to his side, sending him flying into the opposite wall.

Next came two others, then three, then four. From all around her they ran to Octavia, only to get pushed back by her. A faint smile found its way to Vinyl’s lips, a sliver of optimism worming its way into her mind. Maybe… maybe she could actually win. She looked so strong, so quick. The heights at which she jumped should have been impossible for an earth pony, Vinyl thought, marvelling at how her friend dodged and wove between her attackers.

Octavia kept at it for all of half a minute before she suddenly froze. Her eyes widened as she stood stunned. Vinyl too, froze, feeling dread creeping over every part of her. A punch connected with Octavia’s jaw, sending her to the ground. The others quickly joined in, hailing blows upon the now prone mare.

The leader, the beige stallion, glanced over at Vinyl from the sidelines and, upon seeing her conscious, grinned and waved an object at her before turning back to watch the spectacle. Vinyl’s eyes followed the object, and felt her dread multiply tenfold. Blood dripped from the knife, pooling on the ground. From the throng of ponies kicking and punching Octavia, Vinyl could see a similar pool slowly grow in size.

“No,” she croaked. Tears and blood stung in her eyes, blurring her vision. “No.” She struggled, forcing her body to move. She couldn’t let it happen. She wouldn’t let it happen. “Stop.” She got her hooves underneath her and tried pushing herself up. It wasn’t fair. This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. They were supposed to get to her home together, drink a cup of tea, and then part ways for the night with fond memories of an evening spent together. “Go away.”

Vinyl stood up, blood leaking from where the skin on her brow had broken. She lit her horn, pushing as hard as she could. Harder than she ever had before. Nothing more than errant sparks answered her call, but she kept at it. She gritted her teeth, feeling the adrenaline course through her body.

They would not hurt her. They would not hurt Octavia. She couldn’t allow it. Would not allow it. Vinyl clenched her clenched and closed her eyes, digging deeper into her reserves than she ever had, casting the pain aside. It wasn’t important. Octavia was important.

And then she felt it. Power the likes of which she had never felt before flooded her, soothing her pains, reinvigorating her… and fuelling her rage.

She opened her eyes—glowing white from the power she commanded—barely noticing the arcs of arcane power jumping from her body, scorching everywhere it touched. She squared off, lowering her head threateningly, blazing horn pointing forward.

”Get away from her!”

Author's Note

You think it would all be sunflowers and cakes, did ya? :pinkiecrazy:
People (and ponies) grow too secure in what they know, never realising the dangers that lurk around every corner. Vinyl's just another foolhardy lil' pony.

That being said, I apologise for the long wait. I had not anticipated that the chapter would get this long. Like always, I tried to strive for 4k a chapter, but as you can see, Vinyl and Octavia had other plans.

Thanks to my two lovely editors Taranasaurus and TheNocturnalLoner. Both really nice guys who I appreciate taking the time out of their day to help my sorry ass :D

As always, a comment is very much appreciated. It is what I look forward to the most with every chapter. So critique or anything that caught your eye. Feel free to post it down below :pinkiesmile: