Prologue- That Pounding...
Author's Note
I have found that the drink makes me a productive writer. Written while drunk.
Prologue- That Pounding...
I woke up with one of those blinding headaches. You know the kind. They’re leftovers from the best of nights, ones filled with thumping music, loud and unclear in their lyrics and multi-hued glow sticks.
“Ugh…” That didn’t come from me, did it...so hoarse…
“Uuuuugh.” Now that came from me. I could feel the vibrations of my throat. Hurt, dammit.
Thinking. That hurt too. Thumping, never ending thumping. Like a hammer.
“Shu’ up!”
Didn’t help.
I opened my eye a crack. Hurt less than expected. That was the first thing that struck me as odd this day. I opened my eye up to a sliver. Still nothing.
Oh, well. I’ve heard there’s a saying “no pain, no gain.” At least I think that’s what I heard. I opened my eyes all the way. Dear Celestia, I could feel the crusties falling all around me as I did so. I raised a hoof to rub ‘em away.
“Rub a dub dub.” I murmur with sleep lacing my voice.
I could fall right back asleep if it weren’t for that infernal racket straight from Luna bucking Tartarus. I know hangovers, sounds don’t come from nowhere. Something had to be causing it.
“Uuuuugh.” I tried to draw out my sound of complaint as long as possible.
Flail a hoof around for a cure.
…
Octavia wasn’t in bed. No one to fix it for me.
Wait…wait for it…Ok, the churning of my brain was forming thoughts slower than butter currently.
It was slowly dawning on me. Maybe it was Octavia making the noise. I flailed around even more before I got overly entangled in the down throw. Yup, definitely not in the bed with me. And...now that I think about it I don’t think I was either now. Seems struggling while off balance wasn’t the brightest idea to pierce my thick skull.
At least the pounding stopped for now. I rubbed the back of my head tentatively as I sat up. Dizzy...How much did I have to drink? One, two, three, four...I lost track as I ran out of hooves. Had to have been at least double that. I licked my lips. I love that mango pineapple stuff.
“Vinyl…?” The voice was gentle but the light brought with it was anything but. I screwed my eyes shut and let out quite the ladylike squeak.
“AHhhHhhhhH!” Ok, not that ladylike. Who can blame me?
“Vinyl...you need to get up. Something…”
It’s Octavia speaking I realize. It’s her lilting voice...lower than usual...is something...wrong?
“Some-something’s,” Her voice, it was cracking, “happened. You need to get up,” She swallows, I can hear that without the shadow of a doubt, “and see this.”
I roll over, horn smashing against the hardwood floor in a manner that almost certainly left a dent. In the wood, I mean. Though my horn sure as Tartarus hurt. I’d regret it in the morning…
Right...morning.
“Yo, Tavs, what time is it anyways?” Scratch horn, yawn, and repeat.
She’s next to me then, handing me my signature glasses. That mare, I swear. I don’t deserve somepony that good. Everything is a little better through rose, or in this case funky purple, colored glasses. Learned that from the bottle.
The living room was a mess.
“Ugh….”
“Ugh.” I answered back, perfectly happy with the monosyllabic route that the conversation took.
“Uggggh.”
I rub my eyes, accidentally knocking a hoof against the glass of my shades, “Hey, Tavi, what’s up with the door…?”
A pony’s hoof broke through my mare’s painstakingly installed new door. Not so much a door I guess as a...What’s that word? I tsk’ed my tongue against my teeth. Migraine...stupid, stupid migraine.
Barrier! That’s it!
Something was odd though, outside of Octavia’s new found talent in carpentry.
“Hey! That’s my turntable!” I turn to Octavia with a pout, “How could you?”
Octavia’s face is pale and voiceless as she grabs a cheap hammer off the counter. I almost go to stop her until I realize what was off about the scene. No, it wasn’t just pieces of my old turntable nailed to the door. Other pieces of furniture blocked the doorway too I noticed. No, the odd thing was...the hoof. The skin was torn in the way that you expect from breaking through some splintery wood. By Celestia’s Sun, I could see some of the splinters sticking out from the well dusted, once white fur, some as long as two or three inches. There was no blood though, blending with the dust, and it wasn’t simply clotted either. I stared in wonder and slightly hungover bemusement.
My glasses fell to the ground with the tinkling sound of broken glass as Octavia shoved me out of the way and to the side.
Octavia growls under her breath, “To answer your earlier question...It’s sometime after...noon, if I were to hazard an educated guess. In case you haven’t noticed, I have been a bit preoccupied. Uuuuugghuhhhh.”
Wait… I dug a hoof into my ear.
“Uuuugh.” That wasn’t Octavia after all. Sheepish grin all around; buy one, get one free, right here at Vinyl Scratch’s pearly whites.
The hoof in the door was removed and replaced by a still pristine and shining horn. A stray strand of, what was that name...something about a flower...Rose pink? Tulip pink? Bluebell pink? I shook my head at that last one, didn’t even make any sense. Carnation pink. That was it. Wait...no, I think I was right that time. I inwardly clap my hooves together in delight, maybe the hangover was wearing off.
Damnit. Maybe not. I just realized how slow I was being. Why on Equestria was I focused on the hair color of all things? It was pink. Pink, pink, pink, nothing more. The important thing was…
“Honey, why is Moondancer one of the living undead?”
