Chapters Scratches Across the Record
A steady string of sharp beeps roused Vinyl Scratch from her unconscious state. While she was waking, her eyes still closed, a soft murmur tickled her ears with a warm tone. She slowly opened her eyes to immediately clamp them shut again at the bright light that she found at first. After some gentle encouragement from the soft murmur, she opened her eyes again, this time slowly and with a hoof shielding them. Once she could see without squinting, Vinyl lifted her hoof back and was greeted by the sight of a beige unicorn against an impossibly white background. He was tall, even when seated, with soft features, emerald eyes, and a short, slightly tousled brown mane.
“Hey, Mix,” Vinyl muttered sheepishly, letting her eyes drift across the scene. She observed the inside of what she regarded as a sanitary hellhole – hospitals depressed her greatly, and she’d be the first to let somepony know it.
“Hey, kiddo,” Mix spoke slowly while wearing a small smile, “how ya’ feeling?”
“Eh, my head aches and it feels like my ribs got hit by a train, but other than that... I’m just peachy.”
“At least you’re alive, so thank Celestia for that.”
“Well, I am wild and sexy – the perfect kind of pony to die young.”
The beige stallion sighed and shook his head. “The saying is ‘Only the good die young.’” Vinyl scrunched up her nose in discontent and stuck out her tongue. Mix simply laughed and patted her gingerly on the shoulder. “On a more serious note, however, I’ve got to know what happened to you.”
Vinyl lowered her head and put a sombre look on her face as she spoke. “I went out gambling last night.”
“Vinyl.” Mix sighed in disappointment but remained silent after that.
“I actually won a whole lot at first, but then I got cocky and lost it all on a single bet. The last thing I remember was getting drunk and yelling at some big lookin’ pony... it probably wasn’t one of my better nights.” Silenced reigned between the two for a minute before Mix finally spoke.
“Would it be safe for me to assume you didn’t have enough to cover the bills?” The sullen DJ refused to meet her friend’s stare but nodded her head slowly. “Then why didn’t you let me know?”
“What good would that’ve done?” Vinyl replied dejectedly.
“I could have helped.”
“I wasn’t about to go crawling to you for help.” Immediately after the words had left her mouth, Vinyl immediately regretted them.
“Oh really?” Mix’s voice had taken a harsh tone and Vinyl, despite looking away from him, could tell his eyes were dead serious and locked upon her. “Maybe I’m misremembering, but I don’t ever recall you being particularly good at picking up the pieces of your messes. In fact, I quite clearly recall myself fixing your mistakes on more than one occasion. Do you-”
“Okay!” The DJ interrupted him quickly, a tear forming in her eye. “You fix everything in my life... I mess everything up and you make it right. But I... I just wanted to fix things by myself for once.” Vinyl rubbed her hooves anxiously on the bed sheets, her vision blurring as she resigned her eyelids to a half-opened position. The beeping from before, which had faded from Vinyl's focus during their conversation, slowly became the focal point of the sullen mare’s attention – she wanted something to take her mind off of her own deject state. During this time, Mix had relaxed his features and let out another sigh, which may have seemed excessive by this point, had sighing not been so customary for the stallion during his conversations with Vinyl.
After a minute of silence – another occurrence not uncommon between them – Mix finally spoke, this time softly once more. “Vinyl, I know you just want to feel like you can solve your own problems, and I’m not saying you shouldn’t be able to, but it doesn’t hurt to at least get a little bit of help. Now, could you at least try and let me help you? You’ve already gone broke and put yourself in the hospital, so the least you could do for yourself is to let me help.”
“You’re right,” Vinyl replied quietly, turning her uneasy gaze towards him. “Can you please help me?”
Mix gave a small smile. “If you promise to stop being so cliché sounding about.”
“Me, cliché? Naaaaaaah.” Vinyl tried to laugh, but was stopped by a pang in her side a moment into the attempt. As Mix was giving her another pat on the shoulder, a short unicorn dressed in a doctor’s coat walked up to the end of the bed, a clipboard levitating in front of his spectacled eyes.
“Ms. Scratch?” he asked casually.
Being reminded that she was in a hospital, Vinyl frowned and halfheartedly replied: “Yeah, that's me.”
“It looks like you’ve only got a little bruising on your left side, and nothing permanent or serious to worry about – you’re good to go assuming you feel well enough to travel.”
“Thank you, doctor,” Mix chimed in gratefully, standing up and offering Vinyl his hoof. She nodded to the doctor in a show of appreciation before taking her friend’s hoof. Her hooves clicked loudly against the floor as she slid off the bed with only mild discomfort. The two quickly made their way out of the hospital, as Mix was completely aware of how much Vinyl disliked the establishments and had no intent on making the mare more uncomfortable. Once they stepped out onto the hard pavement, the DJ closed her eyes and greedily inhaled the warm air, as if it were in limited supply, and then exhaled heavily with a smile.
“Do you want to walk?” Mix asked quickly. “Or would you like me to get a carriage?”
Vinyl was already lost in her own world, ignoring her friend in favour of a realization. “Shit!” she exclaimed. “What happened to my shades?”
“I asked, but they said they weren’t on you.”
“Fuck... scumbag probably broke ‘em.”
“Vinyl, you got drunk and likely agitated a much larger pony – getting only your sunglasses broken is probably on the luckier side of things. Now, are we going to walk, or do you want to get a carriage?” Still grumbling about her lost, and likely broken, sunglasses, it took her friend a few more calls of her name for Vinyl to finally pay attention to him.
“Well, I can’t really afford a carriage,” she muttered discontentedly.
Mix rolled his eyes and withheld another sigh. “I know that, but it’s not really expensive – I can pay for it myself.” The DJ was about to protest, but was stopped by a raised hoof and unfaltering gaze. She quickly backed down and allowed her friend to pay for a carriage that they rode to Vinyl’s apartment in silence.
Just as they entered Vinyl’s apartment, Mix closed the door behind them and cleared his throat. The DJ spun around and gave her friend a puzzled look before noticing his hoof slowly gliding through the air, pointing from one end of the apartment to the other. She turned back to give the chaotic mess she called home a quick stare before letting out an embarrassed chuckle.
“What are you, a teenager?” Mix asked sharply.
Vinyl turned her head back and gave him a small frown. “Well, what are you: my mom?”
“If I’m anything I’m more like a broth-”
The DJ now took the time to turn her whole body to face Mix and donned a determined scowl. “You don’t get to just stand there and act like you’re my brother – ‘cause you’re not!”
Mix pulled back a little, visibly regretting his word choice, but continued on with determination. “Then could you please just listen to me as a friend?”
“What kind of friend lectures somepony just after they get out of the hospital?”
The beige stallion sighed with exasperation. “Don’t play that card, Vinyl – I’m lecturing you because you got yourself into the hospital because of your bad choices.”
“I’m an adult: I’m allowed to fuck up if I want, and it’s my own damn problem if I do!”
“Just because you’re of age to be an adult, doesn’t mean you actually are one.”
“And just because you’re older than me and have helped me out doesn’t mean you get to be my brother and lecture me like I’m a filly!”
“If you didn’t act like one I wouldn’t have to!” He took a hard stamp on the floor and stared Vinyl down with intensity. Despite all of her anger and determination up to this point, the DJ lowered her head and became silent. In a rather desolate manner, she dragged herself over to a couch covered in miscellaneous objects and slumped down on it.
“Why do you even care if my apartment’s a mess?” she muttered defeatedly.
Mix relaxed, letting out a long breath he had been holding onto, and walked over to a chair opposite the couch. With a few quick flicks of his hoof he brushed most of the debris off the chair and sat down. “It’s not just about your apartment,” he said softly with a touch of sadness. “This is about your drinking and partying... and your complete refusal to grow up. Of course... there’s also the gambling now.”
Vinyl shot her head up and pleaded in defence. “I swear I won’t do it again!”
The stallion across from her looked away. “I’ve heard that before.” There was silence between the two for some time before Mix finally spoke again. “Vinyl, I'm your friend – I care about you and I’ve spent too much time with you to ever be able to just walk away from you, but... I can’t keep picking you up every time you do something stupid. You're going to have to learn how to either clean up your own messes, or to stop making them. I’m not going to pretend like I never make mistakes, or that I’ve never messed up something, but I learnt from those mistakes and moved on with my life.
“I know you enjoy all the excitement and energy of partying constantly, but you’re running yourself ragged with it, whether you see it or not. You have a career to be building, and a life you could be making for yourself – don’t you want that anymore? The Vinyl I met a long time ago wanted to become the best DJ in all of Equestria. What happened to her? You got about halfway up the ladder and felt content enough just to sit there and squander everything you made. Now... now you’re actually falling down that ladder, and I’m worried you’re not going to climb back up.”
The weight of his words hung heavily upon Vinyl’s heart, and she could make no adequate reply to them. She looked slowly and sadly across her dishevelled living room and realized how much a mess not only the room was, but her entire life. Part of her still wanted to deny it, to say that it was her own life and that she was free to live it as she pleased – but deep down she knew she was only hurting herself by doing indulging so much, while she did so little else. After going over this thoughts again and again, she knew Mix was right about her problems, but she still felt completely incompetent about it all.
“Mix,” she began quietly, “I’m sorry for what I put you through. I know you want to help me, and I’m nothing but stubborn and stupid about it. I asked for you help back at the hospital, but then I turned around and bitched you out for trying to help me... I’m a complete idiot.”
With a sigh, the stallion across from her spoke softly. “I don’t know why you’re acting the way you are, but a real idiot isn’t smart enough to see their own flaws. So, stupid as you may be sometimes, you’re not a complete idiot.”
“Heh, thanks,” she replied with light sarcasm.
“I’m not going to coddle you and tell you nothing’s wrong every time you get sad just to make you feel better. I admit, I’ve coddled you in the past by always picking you up without being sure you had learned your lesson – but that stops now. It’s not like I’m not going to be there for you, but you’ve got to learn how to be an adult, and you’ll never do that by relying on me constantly. I’ll help you get started, but I want to see you succeed by your own choices, not mine. My suggestion: distance yourself from DJing for a while.”
“What!” Mix’s words brought back all of Vinyl's energy in an instant. “I can’t quit DJing! Besides, weren’t you just on my ass for not working on a being a better DJ – how can you just turn around and tell me to stop?”
“I’m not telling you to outright stop being a DJ, but to do some other work for the time being.” Despite Vinyl thinking the idea was completely ridiculous and having no idea how her friend could suggest it, Mix continued with unfazed confidence. “While I think DJing should be an important part of your life, until you can control yourself, it’s just going to be a gateway for all your partying and drinking – distance yourself from that for the moment, and work on you.”
The disgruntled mare sat up and scowled slightly. “What are you, a high school guidance counsellor?”
“The ‘what are you’ quips just never get old, do they?” Vinyl scrunched up her face and stuck her tongue out at Mix in a childish display of disagreement. The stallion laughed briefly before becoming serious again. “But seriously, Vinyl, you really should do some other work for now. My studio recently signed with Octavia for her first solo album, but all of my sound-booth technicians are stupid busy, and so am I – I think this could be a good opportunity for you.”
Rubbing her chin in a quasi-thoughtful manner, Vinyl spoke slowly, drawing out her words. “I dunno.”
“Come on, I know you’ve got the skills for it – even if you ignored ninety percent of your work back in college, you’ve always had the talent for this kind of work.”
“But I’ve never heard of this ‘Octavia’ pony.”
“Trust me, she’s a talented musician and very well off because of it – you won’t be working with some second-rate hack or something.” Vinyl stopped keeping up the act of looking thoughtful and actually took a moment to think about the situation.
“Uhhh... fine, I guess this isn’t exactly a bad idea.”
Mix chuckled as he stood up from the chair. “Not quite the ‘Vinyl Scratch attitude’ I was hoping for, but it’s better than nothing.”
“Hey!” Without hesitation, Vinyl leapt from her couch and came almost face-to-face with her friend in an instant. “I am Vinyl Scratch, and I’ve always got attitude!”
His lips cracked into a small smile as he took a half-step back. “Alright, cool yourself, filly.”
“Easier said then done – I can't control how hot I am,” the DJ cooed with a sly smile, but Mix simply shook his head and sighed.
“You know that I meant your attitude, but you just had to go there.”
“Eh, whatever you want to think, but you know it’s true.” The enigmatic mare made her way to the kitchen of her apartment, opening up her refrigerator to prod her head about inside of it. “So when do you want me to come in for work?” her muffled voice came from inside the metal box. Before Mix could reply, Vinyl pulled her head out with a half-eaten sandwich in her mouth. “Mhat soumms suh wuhhrd.”
“And you wonder why I treat you like a filly.” With a few ravenous mouth movements, Vinyl finished her sandwich and gave her friend a dumb grin. After he was done with rubbing his hoof against his forehead, he turned back to continue the conversation. “Octavia’s coming in tomorrow – it was initially going to be a meeting to discuss the technician issue, but since I just got you on board, we’re going to go ahead and set things up with you two.”
“Heh,” the mare giggled, “‘set us up' – you a matchmaker now, Mix? Are you even sure I swing that way?”
“You have been in some ‘mixed’ crowds while DJing,” her friend said with a raised eyebrow.
“Yeah yeah, enough about my personal life, ‘mom’.”
Mix smirked. “Are you implying that I'm a middle-aged mare, again?”
“Maybe,” Vinyl giddily answered. The pair shared a laugh for a few moments before the DJ walked back up to her friend. She raise her hooves and draped them around his neck as she slumped her head onto his shoulder.
“Thanks, Mix,” she murmured quietly.
“No problem, kiddo,” he replied warmly, nuzzling her affectionately. After a few seconds Vinyl let go of Mix and slid back to all fours. As she did, she looked up at her friend with a serious stare.
“But if you tell anypony about it,” she said with an unfaltering gaze, “I will end you.”
“Only if you stop making fun of me for my figurine collection.”
“Aw, but they’re so cute and completely stupid.”
“You just don’t appreciate fine craftsmanship and quality television.”
“And you’re just a little filly stuck in a stallion’s body.”
“Look who’s calling who a filly? Would you feel more confident trying to insult me with some unchewed food in your mouth?”
“Oh, it’s on!”
* * * * * * * * * *
The familiar sight of Mix’s recording studio greeted Vinyl as she trotted towards it. While she did not come here on a regular basis, the DJ had spent plenty of time with her friend in this building, and had grown to be very comfortable with it. This studio was Mix’s life work, and one of the few things Vinyl was truly jealous of – she felt as though each song recorded in this building was more impressive than anything she had ever achieved in her life. Immediately after they finished college, Mix set to work on building a network of contacts and friends throughout the music industry, becoming completely immersed within it in barely a year. With a small backing from his parents and the investing of his life’s saving, he started his own recording company, and took to it just as easily as he had to the music industry. Through all the contacts that he made, his warm smile and pleasant attitude, and, most of all, his complete openness to new musicians and artists, Mix’s studio quickly became one of the most well know among the musical world. Yeah , Vinyl thought to herself, Mix really put himself into the place .
As she attempted to dispel any lingering negative thoughts from her mind, the DJ saw her friend seeing off somepony in a leather jacket and sunglasses at the front door. Mix turned, seeing Vinyl approaching, and walked forwards to meet her.
“Hey there, I’m glad you actually followed through,” he greeted her happily.
With a shrug she flicked her mane a little and replied: “Well, I’ve gotta prove that I won’t keep letting you down.”
“That’s good to hear, but I really want you to make sure you don’t let yourself down – that’s what’s important here. Come on, Octavia’s waiting inside.”
As they walked towards the building, the glass doors in front of them slid open at their presence and let them inside. “Making a big shot wait just for me?” Vinyl joked coyly. “I hope she doesn’t think you’re playing favourites.”
“She’s hardly been waiting,” Mix replied as he waved to a number of ponies while they passed through the reception room. “I said hello to her as I was seeing another client off just then – if anything, she’d be waiting on you.”
“Well, good thing I’m here on time then, eh?”
He gave his friend a smirk. “Yes, you’re actually on time for once and it matters.” The DJ sputtered off some childish noises as they approached the studio’s head office. Managing to calm herself down despite her enjoyment, Vinyl cleaned up her posture and tried her best to don an air of maturity.
“I almost forgot!” Mix chimed as he turned around and quickly left the room. “I’ll be back in a moment.” Just as promised, her friend returned within a mere ten seconds, bringing with him a sight that delighted Vinyl greatly: a brand new pair of her signature shades,still shining along every inch of it’s surface.
“Holy shit, man!”she exclaimed with much excitement.
“Calm down,” he replied with a chuckle as he passed the gift to the euphoric DJ. “I thought these would help put you in a good mood for the meeting, so I got them rush ordered. Now, calm yourself down and follow me.” Mix opened the doors and motioned Vinyl inside. The ecstatic mare took a deep breath, donning her shades with a great swish of her mane, and walked into the office in as nonchalant a manner as she could muster.
The pair entered the off-white urban office and were immediately greeted by the sight of a grey mare with an immaculate black mane, a treble clef cutie mark, and a pink bow-tie decorating her neck.
“It’s good to see you again, Octavia,” Mix announced with a warm but serious tone as he walked over to shake Octavia’s hoof.
“Likewise,” she replied calmly, her accent revealing itself to Vinyl. “It has been a while, hasn’t it?”
Mix delayed his reply until after he had taken a seat and given himself a few seconds to think. “Yes, almost five months now, I believe. Anyhow, I’m guessing you’re wondering who the mare with me is; this is Vinyl Scratch, the technician I’ve hired for your recording.”
With a refined and collected air, Octavia turned to face the DJ and extended her hoof. “How do you do?”
Thanks to her shades, neither of the other ponies noticed the panic set in for Vinyl. Shit shit shit! she cursed internally. How the fuck do you greet these fancy types? I know! I’ll just copy her hello – that’ll work, right?
“How do you do?” she replied nervously, shaking the other mare’s hoof. Octavia eyed her carefully for a moment before turning back to Mix, who told them both to take a seat so that they may begin.
“First off,” Mix began as he hovered a hoof over his intercom, “would either of you care for a coffee or tea?” Octavia requested a type of herbal tea completely unknown to Vinyl, who simply asked for a coffee – it was rather early for this mare, who was used to sleeping in after all-night parties. “Alright, as there really is not a whole lot to discuss outside of planning and scheduling, I’d like to open the discussion up for any questions or immediate concerns that either of you may have.”
“I would like to know,” Octavia quickly responded, “how long Ms. Scratch has been working for you.” Trying her best not to be noticed, Vinyl shot the other mare a sharp glare. What, she doesn't trust me already? she thought bitterly.
“Vinyl has been with me since college,” Mix answered calmly, in stark contrast to Vinyl’s tone of thought. “We’ve worked together since long before I started this studio. If you want to be technical, however-”
Octavia cut in with a quick: “And I do.”
“... then Vinyl isn’t so much employed by the studio as she does some work for me.”
“So she’s a creditable freelance technician then?”
The relaxed studio owner chuckled and scratched the back of his head. “See, she’s not really a freelancer either.”
“What is she then?” the mare asked a tad impatiently, tired of not getting the answer she was looking for. During this exchange, the DJ remained silent, her thoughts still following the conversation. ‘What’ am I? Well, first of all, I’m a pony that could probably kick your ass.
“Vinyl is a good friend, who, like I said, has been working with me – albeit, sporadically – over my entire career. She’s a talented individual whom I trust – I did not bring her here as the last resort because I had no pony else.”
“May I assume that you did not have anypony else, though?”
“It is true – my entire staff is currently engaged in other work.”
“I then have to take your word that Ms. Scratch is a creditable technician, even though she is not employed by your or any other recording studio?”
Mix became completely serious and spoke without any hesitation. “The idea that any one of my staff would ever be considered a last resort is absurd, as I do not employ subpar staff members. This includes those that are not employed by me, but that I have selected for a specific job. With all due respect, Octavia, you will have to trust my judgement, and I sincerely hope that you will be satisfied with her performance.”
I feel like a new carriage or something , Vinyl mentally joked. After a few moments of consideration, Octavia seemed to accept Mix’s explanation, and made it known that she had no other concerns that did not pertain to the actual recording and scheduling. Following this, Mix turned to Vinyl.
“Anything you want to know, Vinyl?” he enquired casually.
“What kind of music do you play?” she asked, turning to Octavia, her curious gaze blocked from view. The air hung heavily after that sentence as the mare in question simply gazed at the DJ with shock and Mix was mentally scolding himself for not briefing Vinyl on this before. After a few seconds of neither pony answering her, Vinyl put forth a resoundingly confused: “What?”
Octavia eventually spoke, regaining her composure and answering with confidence. “I am a cellist who plays primarily classical, with a focus on the later orchestral works and instrumental re-imaginings of vocal centric pieces.”
“Oh... cool.” The interest Vinyl attempted to feign was so poorly executed that even she thought ill of herself for it. Before the silence could go on long enough to become uncomfortable, Mix cleared his throat and suggested that the group get to setting up the schedule. Both mares eagerly agreed, not wishing to engage more in anything vaguely similar to social interaction for the time being. With the non-verbal establishment of their desire to ‘just get it over with’, they created their recording schedule, and soon found themselves happily going their own ways.
Scratches Across the Record
Rain poured down upon Manehatten as Vinyl trudged along to her first day of work. She would normally enjoy the rain by getting soaked and proceeding to do as she pleased with her time, but her new job demanded her attention. With an umbrella over her head and determination on her mind, the DJ marched on to the recording studio. As the building came into view, Vinyl felt a little more at ease; even if she had to work with some pony she was not currently thrilled to be around, at the very least she would be in some place she enjoyed. The automatic doors parted to allow the mare inside, who promptly shook herself free of the few drops of water that clung to her mane and tail. She snapped her umbrella shut and made her way to the third recording room.
The door was open when Vinyl got there and she found Octavia setting up while Mix talked. She walked in slowly and placed her umbrella in the corner as the other two ponies continued their conversation. After a few moments, Mix stopped to turn to Vinyl.
“Good morning,” he greeted her warmly.
“Mornin',” she replied nonchalantly before turning to Octavia to give her an acknowledging nod of her head – the cellist return the gesture with an air of confidence.
Mix began to walk to the door as he spoke. “The equipment is all set up but I'll expect you'll do a full check yourself before the recording. As per Octavia's contract, you have this room for as long as you wish to record or edit on the days that you've booked it. Other than that, all the best with the recording and come find me if you are in dire need of something important.” With that, the stallion trotted out of the room and left the mares to themselves. Vinyl went to close the door before stepping over to the controls to do a check, as Mix had suggested. As she fiddled with all the little buttons, knobs, and sliders, a small smile crept onto her face.
“I'm not sure how you scored this room,” she said without looking to the other pony, “especially with almost unlimited access too.”
With a slight tilt of her head, though Vinyl could not see it, Octavia replied, “What do you mean by that?”
“This is Mix's personal recording room, though you might not think it 'cause it looks just like all the others, but it's his.” The DJ rested her hooves against the console as she warmly recalled the memories made in this room. Back when Mix was starting out, it had just been a storage room, perpetually filled with boxes until the day he converted it. During that time, the storage room was the common place for the pair to spend time together, musing or simply relaxing. She drifted away from the memories, coming back to the present and Octavia, who had responded to Vinyl's remark but had been completely ignored in favour of pleasant memories.
“If there are no more nostalgic history lessons,” the cellist spoke up, aware that she had been previously ignored, “I would like to get started.”
Vinyl finished with checking the console and turned around. “Sounds good – everything here is good to go when you are.” Octavia entered the sound booth, the door shut behind her while the DJ situated herself in a more comfortable fashion at the console. Switches were flicked, buttons pressed, sliders slid, and the red light lit up brightly. The cellist began to play as Vinyl sat at the controls, silently listening and observing. While classical was a genre she was not very fond of, it was still possible for her to appreciate the talent of a musician – and Octavia definitely had talent. Despite having only listened to her play for mere moments, Vinyl could already say, without a doubt, that the mare she was recording for possessed impressive skill with her instrument.
Inside the booth, Octavia played her music with eyes closed and her form composed. She slid the bow along the strings in fluid movements, as natural to her as breathing and as frictionless as water. The notes weaved together like silk, forming a shawl of musical warmth and comfort, with only a subtle hint of sadness. The cellist imagined the faces of hundreds of ponies, constantly amazed by the sounds she produced for them in such a pleasing fashion. In her mind, she looked out across the theatre as her music ended and their hearts melted. When she opened her eyes to the inside of the sound-booth, she found herself faced with a different sight: she saw Vinyl, relaxed and looking only vaguely interested at the console. Even if she told herself she could care less about what this mare thought of her music, she still felt her heart sink ever so slightly.
“Good take,” the mare at the console said through the speaker. “You want to give 'er another or move on?”
Octavia briefly considered another run at the song, but decided against it. “I would like to move on to the next piece, thank you.” Besides, her subconscious nagged, maybe a different one will capture her attention . The cellist poised herself for another masterpiece and began to play on Vinyl's queue. With the same effortless grace as before, the mare created a tapestry of sound, designed to please those with a discerning ear. This piece was full of subtle tones, meant to pull a pony in to feel the rise and fall of the emotions in her strings – it would leave them pleasantly confused, stuck between a warm joy and a cool sadness. The song faded out, ending with a weighted softness, like a slow, heavy snowfall. Octavia opened her eyes more eagerly this time, anticipation subtly dancing within them, and looked to the mare at the console once more. Again, she stared straight at the machine in front of her, no hint of the usual expression that crowds normally wear when the cellist plays. This time, however, she had her hoof raised to her chin in a thoughtful manner, and Octavia waited for her to speak.
“Pretty good,” she finally remarked, rubbing her chin. “There's something a bit off, but I think it could probably be fixed with a little level adjustment.” Vinyl was trying her best to look natural, afraid that the mare in the booth might see through her guise – she had become rather impressed by the cellist, going as far as to enjoy her music, but she was in no hurry to let that fact be known. Her fear of admission stemmed from her attitude towards classical musicians, whom she viewed as stuffy and conceited ponies, who looked down their noses at ponies such as herself. The belief the DJ currently held was that Octavia would either mock her for being interested when acting as though she were not during their first meeting, or that she would insult her for being somepony that did not have the taste to ever properly appreciate her music. Neither outcome was inviting to Vinyl, so she chose to feign disinterest and act relaxed.
Meanwhile, Octavia was feeling the sting of the other mare's words – 'pretty good' . Not once could she recall being told that her music was only 'pretty good', for even when she was studying under the most critical of musical professors, she had never failed to impress. What gave this mare the right to not be swept off her hooves by her music? The cellist wished to simply say that Vinyl had no taste for music, but something kept her from truly believing that. Even if she thought a pony had no taste, they were at least forced to embarrassingly attempt to avoid commenting on her music, for they could not say anything negative about it without looking a fool. While Vinyl had not said anything particularly negative, she had remarked on the music without being won over, which was as good as an insult to Octavia
“An EQ tweak should do it,” Vinyl noted aloud, taking them both back to the present, “but we could always just re-recorded, if you want.”
With a cool demeanour, Octavia spoke in a slightly passive-aggressive tone, made almost too subtle by her dry accent. “Well, if you -” She made sure to emphasize the 'you', “-believe that it is unnecessary to re-record, then let us continue on.” Unsurprisingly, Vinyl did not pick up on the cellist's tone and carried on with her work, preparing for the next song. With a small huff to herself, Octavia readied her instrument once more and tried to focus on her music. As she played the next piece, however, she could not help but think of how Vinyl acted towards her and, more importantly, her music. All the while the DJ listened on in silence, aware that something was different about her client's playing this time, and scrunched her nose slightly as she thought on it. The cellist made no attempt at subtly when she stared out at the mare working the console, continuing to play as she saw the discontent on the mare's face. Her bow slipped a little in her hooves and cause her to play a series of notes completely foreign to her current piece of music. Fumbling to regain control of her bow, Octavia tried her best to ignore the frown on Vinyl's lips. She finished out the song unconvincingly, aware that there was little chance that the DJ would be impressed now if she had not already been thus far.
Vinyl was desperately thinking of something to say in this situation. While she wanted to simply speak her mind, she knew it would be out of line for her to do so, and she did not feel comfortable banking on her being the only available technician to keep her job safe. Squirming mentally, the DJ frantically searched for something she could do to make this whole scenario better – the cellist had been a great musician thus far, and Vinyl was unsure of what had caused this sudden drop in performance. Perhaps it had just been some very avant-garde piece of music she did not understand? I doubt it , she answered herself. Octavia doesn't seem the type for experimental music. Whatever's the case, I've got to do something, right?
“I think the recording messed up,” she blurted out without another thought. “Yup, definitely screwed up. Looks like we'll have to redo that one.” While she had not consciously planned that idea, she was giving herself a mental pat on the back for the quick thinking. Octavia, for her part, was left a little shocked in the recording booth. She had been all too aware of how poor her last performance must have sounded, and was afraid she would be doomed to face a legitimate insult about her music. However, fate seemed to be on her side – even if she did not believe in such things – and it looked as though she was in the clear. The performance would still leave a sour taste in her mouth, but at least she had hope to move on with today.
“Such is life,” the cellist announced confidently, trying to bolster her own morale. “I will simply play again, and hope there are fewer technical errors.” Had she not be so thankful for this mishap, there would have been more venom in her words, but she was far too relieved to be angry at the moment. Outside the booth, Vinyl was about to retort, not enjoying being accused of making mistakes with equipment, but realized how that would ruin her attempted fix. She kept mostly quiet, offering an affirming hum and nod, focusing on the console again. They set up for another recording, both of them hoping for a better performance this time around.
With determination, Octavia banished the thoughts clouding her mind, breathing deeply before starting her music again. Once she did, she had regained her previous gusto and skillful handle on her craft, performing the piece as it was meant to be. The faint hint of a smile came to the cellist's face as she played on with grace and confidence. At the console, Vinyl was noting the return of Octavia's skill after the brief mishap, and continuing to enjoy herself in secret. Something about the whole thing seemed a little dirty, as if she was not meant to be enjoying herself – at least, not in this way. Never before had she needed to hide her interest in music before; the concept was alien to her, and perhaps that was why she felt as though it was wrong. Vinyl concluded that she did not know how to feel about the situation, but knew that she enjoyed Octavia's music – she could figure out how her demons worked in her free time.
As the cellist played out the end of her song, the door to the studio opened slowly. Vinyl turned to see Mix enter the room and flash her a friendly smile. His attention turned to the booth as he noticed Octavia finishing the current piece just in time to open her eyes and turn to see him.
“How's the recording going?” he asked the DJ casually.
“Oh, pretty good,” Vinyl replied calmly, intent on not saying anything about the one ill-performed take. “Like you said: she's definitely no two-bit hack.”
He laughed a little as Octavia began to exit the booth. “Good to hear. Ah, Octavia, I trust that all is well so far?”
“It is,” she replied in her characteristically cool tone, choosing, like Vinyl, to keep mention of the earlier mishap to as little as possible. “What brings you back so soon?”
“I got a call from a client unable to make it in today, so I figured I'd swing by to see how things were going.” As Mix spoke, his eyes were inclined towards Vinyl, a brotherly concern noticeable behind his relaxed demeanour. Octavia caught sight of this and understood that he was here to check up on the mare at the console, worried about how she would be handling her job. This reminded the cellist of her previous uneasiness about the Vinyl's employment, and she now also cast a look to the mare. Aware of the other ponies' gazes, the DJ spoke with the intent of freeing herself from them.
“Well thanks, Mix,” she tried not to sound nervous with their eyes on her, “but we've only gotten a few tracks recorded, and I'm sure Octavia wants to keep working.” The other two ponies shared a quick glance before Mix nodded and excused himself while wishing the mares good luck. Octavia and Vinyl looked to each other briefly, gazes quizzical but hardly telling, before returning to their work.
* * * * * * * * * *
Vinyl yawned and looked up to a clock mounted upon the wall: 1:17 – she had not noticed noon come and go. A growl in her stomach helped her realized that not only would she need some more coffee, but that her body was also seeking nourishment. Octavia had just finished out the second take of the album's final song and was setting her cello upon its stand. The booth door opened effortlessly as she stepped outside and turned immediately to the mare at the console.
“I was thinking of going for lunch,” Vinyl announced as she swung herself free of her chair. She looked at the other mare for a moment, silent before she continued. “Do you want to come with me?”
The cellist stared back for a moment, slightly taken aback by the question. “Is that really proper procedure for a sound technician?”
“Meh, maybe not.” The DJ regained her confidence, trotting by Octavia and opening the door to the hall. “But I figure that while we're on break, we don't have to be professionals.”
“I believe we may have slightly different concepts of professionalism, but I see no harm in having lunch together.”
Vinyl stepped out into the hallway and waited for Octavia before closing the door behind her. “So where do you want to go?”
“I'm not terribly familiar with the area, but a quaint bistro with a patio would be lovely if while the weather allows it.” As they walked down the halls the DJ began to regret asking the cellist to lunch. What in Equestria was I thinking? she scolded herself. I was just going to grab a sandwich and hay fries or something at a fast food place, but there's not way Octavia would even step anywhere near there. Part of her began to question why she cared so much about what this other mare thought of her choice of eating establishments – it was no pony's matter except her own. Once again, Vinyl did not have a clear cut answer as to why these thoughts were plaguing her, so she set them aside to deal with the problem at hoof.
“Well,” she began nervously, “we could swing by and see if Mix has a suggestion – he's always going out for lunch and stuff with clients.”
“If he's not too engaged in any work, I would like to hear his suggestion.” The pair turned a corner and made for the studio's head office. When they reach their destination, they found the door open, looking in to see Mix sitting at his desk with a stack of paper work. Octavia tapped on the opened door gingerly as she waited to enter. Quickly, but in no rush, the beige stallion lifted his head, looking to the door to give a small smile.
“What can I do for you two?” he asked casually.
The two mares entered and Vinyl took the lead. “We were going to go get lunch-” Mix raised a eyebrow. “-and were wondering if you could recommend somewhere good nearby.”
“Of course,” Octavia chimed in, “if you have not take lunch already, we would be more than welcome to have you as well.”
Mix was silent for a few moments before answering, giving the DJ an inquisitive stare. “Thank you for the offer, but I had already had my lunch – perhaps I can take you up on the offer another time. There's an excellent cafe called Bridle Bites just a block south of here – it has a wonderful selection of lunch options and a patio that is quite lovely this time of the year.” He looked out of his window at a now clear summer sky. “Especially when the rain lets up.”
“That sounds lovely indeed,” Octavia responded, the slightest hint of warmth in her voice. “We appreciate the information.”
“Not a problem. Now, if you'll excuse me, I do have a fair amount of paperwork to get done, and even if that wasn't the case, I wouldn't want to keep you from lunch.”
“Thanks, Mix,” Vinyl chimed in happily, relieved to no longer be stuck in that predicament. Mix nodded as the mares left his office and made their way to the exit doors. As they walked through the reception room, Vinyl noticed a few sets of eyes on her and Octavia as they left together. The DJ may have been used to being the centre of attention in clubs, but the way ponies had been looking at her today had not made her incredibly comfortable. Feels like I'm being constantly judged, she thought. What, am I in high school again?
When the pair had finally left the studio, Vinyl took a breath and revelled in the warmness of the air. She turned her head south could already see the patio of the cafe down the street. They started down the street, passing by a few other restaurants and retail stores as they went. As they walked by them, Vinyl recognized most of the fast food places that she had been to, specifically noting a rundown looking redish-brown building then her and Mix had eaten more than a couple of hay fries at during late nights.
“I take it you don't come here that often either?” Octavia asked, breaking Vinyl's thought.
“Hm?” was the only response the DJ made.
“Seeing as you immediately decided to ask Mix for suggestions, I thought that perhaps you were, like me, not too familiar with this area.”
Hooves clicked on the ground as the two walked in silence, Vinyl giving her response after a few moments of though. “I guess that does make sense.” Octavia was slightly flustered by the other mare's inability to actually answer her question but let it slide as they approached the cafe. A bright-eyed young mare greeted them as they stepped onto the premises and asked them if they'd like a table inside or on the patio. The cellist asked for a patio seat and Vinyl nodded along. They were quickly shown to a table, the waitress giving them menus as they sat and asked them if they'd like a drink while the decided on their orders. The pair ordered coffee and then turned their attention to the menus as they wait for the waitress to return. When she did, both mares placed their orders and thanked the waitress as they returned the menus.
“Really, Vinyl,” Octavia groaned, “do you need that much sugar?” As another cup of sugar plopped into the dark brown liquid, Vinyl looked up at the cellist with a small scowl.
“What's wrong with sugar?” she grumbled, placing her shades upon the table.
The cellist sighed and sipped her coffee, which remained black and sugarless. “There is nothing wrong with a bit of sugar, for ponies who cannot appreciate the flavour, but the amount you've put in is simply appalling.”
“This is how my brain likes coffee, so it's how I make coffee – I have no control over what I like and how I like it. If you have some way of changing your tastes, good for you, but I'm perfectly fine with the way mine are.” With a bit of a huff, the DJ took a swig of her coffee as Octavia sat silently. She stopped to consider Vinyl's words – something she had surprised herself by doing more than once lately. When she thought about it, the mare across from her really did have a point: ponies cannot control how their brains are wired, and insulting somepony for the tastes was akin to insulting them for their eye colour – they were simply born with it. She could argue on the grounds of acquired tastes, but even that was within the brain's limit, and often only reaching tolerance – eating dirt for years is likely to make you hate it less, but it would hardly make one grow fond of it. The two mares drank their coffee in silence for a few moments before Vinyl found the will to strike up a new conversation.
“So how are you feeling about the album so far?” she asked casually.
“It's coming along quite well,” Octavia's collected response came.
“Despite that little hiccup?” The coffee cup that had been calmly moving to the cellist's lips stopped abruptly. She looked at the dark liquid and realized that the mare across from her very likely had noticed her poor perform earlier that day. For Vinyl's part, she was not entirely sure why she had brought this up – the whole point of the initial lie of a recording error was to avoid allowing Octavia to be aware that she knew she slipped up. She had the chance to pretend that she meant the fake recording error, but she would have to act upon it now, if that was her choice.
“Not everything goes perfectly,” Octavia responded, holding her cup firmly as she looked at Vinyl. “I would not be where I am if I assumed everything always worked out as plan.” She was lying to herself, blatantly: if she had truly believed that, she would have never became flustered by the DJ's seeming lack of interest in her music. A part of her still hoped that the other mare was simply referring to the recording error, and worded her response ambiguous enough to work for either option.
Vinyl nodded, deciding that her demons would only continue to win if she held back. “That's true, but saying that it didn't go perfectly is underselling it a bit.”
“Well, the recording-”
“I lied about the recording.” There it was – Octavia knew now that, without a doubt, Vinyl was aware of how lacking her performance had been. She had not, however, even considered that the recording error was a lie, and had thought it to simply be a relieving coincidence. Both mares remained silent as they considered their next words in this conversation. Before they could get there though, the bright-eyed waitress from before returned with their food in tow, placing it on the table and wishing them a pleasant meal. They put on their happy faces, smiling and thanking her, waiting until she was long gone to return to each others' attention. Vinyl lifted her sandwich up to her lips and took a bite, chewing fully before saying a word.
“I'm sorry about lying,” she said, as if offering her condolences. “I just didn't want you to feel worse about it.”
“Worse?” Octavia replied curiously, not yet touching her meal.
“Yeah, you obviously had something bad on your mind to be slipping up like that, and I knew you were probably beating yourself up about it afterwards.”
The cellist scowled, a facial expression she was not used to making. “And how do you know all this? We've just met, and you aren't a musician like me, so what makes you think you are so entitled to be able to know my emotions?”
“I'm not a classical musician, and I play in a much different setting than you, but I perform all the same. Having negative thoughts messes up anypony trying to perform their art.” 'Their art' – those words struck Octavia and made her realize that Vinyl did have some concept of how she might feel. When she remembered how the DJ asked her about what she played, but she had never returned the question – she never stopped to consider that Vinyl ways involved with music passed just recording.
“I never considered...”
Vinyl took another bite from her sandwich, her head hung slightly. “I didn't mention it, so you couldn't have known.”
“I am terribly sorry for taking that tone with you, Vinyl – it was incredibly rude, and not at all proper of me.”
“Hey, don't be down about it – I was the one acting like I knew you and talking about personal shit when we barely know each other.” The pair became silent as Octavia finally began eating her meal. For a time, they simply listened to the sounds of the city; the birds twittered in the distance, ponies trotted this way and that, and the hum of life buzzed gently in their ears. When the cellist finished her food and found herself staring into the clear blue sky, she looked back and the mare across from her.
“Why did you lie about the recording?” she asked candidly, no attempt at her cool demeanour.
Also looking away, Vinyl brought her gaze back to the pony questioning her. “Because I liked hearing your music when you played it well.” A small smile found its way to Octavia's lips, and the two found themselves happily relieved of the day's burdens.
Author's Note
A month on the dot from the last one -- I'm not planning to make this a trend, but notice how no one can tell me it took more than a month this time!
Any ways, the edits are just from me, as I was too excited to wait on getting this one out. If anyone would like to, you're free (and completely encouraged!) to send me edits for this, or any other chapter, current or past (excluding the old ones) to me as a message on FimFiction.
I like this new author's notes section, by the by -- it's a good way to have them without taking up word count.
Any whooooo, hope you all enjoy some more Scratches!
Scratches Across the Record
The loud buzz of an alarm clock pulled Vinyl from the world of dreams into the world of messy sheets and frazzled hair. She sat up slowly, yawning as she brushed a hoof across her mane and looked at the time: 7:31 am .
“Fuck...” she grumbled aloud. For the past week Vinyl had been getting up at what she could only consider an ungodly hour, but Mix assured her that this was 'When most normal ponies get up in the morning' . With the grace of a boulder, the DJ rolled herself out of bed and walked toward the bathroom. She tossed a halfhearted glance at herself in the mirror, catching sight of the hornets' nest that was currently her mane. A noise, half chuckle half sigh, escaped her lips as she turned to the shower and began to run the water. Once it was nice and hot, Vinyl shifted aside the curtains and stepped under the streaming water, soaking her body in the soothing warmth.
With the quiet thrum of her magic, the DJ grabbed a bottle of shampoo for her fur and a puffy green scrubber. She squirted the viscous liquid onto the scrubber and worked it into a lather before beginning. Once it was ready, Vinyl began to scrub at her fur in slow, circular motions. Using her magic, she worked the puffy mesh ball along her back and sides, cooing a little to herself as she scrubbed at the base of her tale. She raised her hind leg slightly to better reach along the bends and curves of her muscles, working the foamy scrubber against her fur. As she scrubbed along her inner thigh, she soon came to the sensitive region between her legs. The foamy mesh brushed against the edge of her lower lips, causing her to stop as she let out a small breath. Continuing to hold the scrubber only out of subconscious habit, Vinyl's mind switched focus as she began to slide a front hoof down along her stomach – her eyes fluttered slightly as her hoof found its way into her wet folds. She only had time to give herself a few gentle rubs before her eyes snapped open and she let out a snort of air. Ugh, I really don't have time for this , she muttered internally, reluctantly removing her hoof and placing it back on the shower floor.
The disgruntled and unsatisfied DJ finished showering as quickly as possible, heading straight to the kitchen after a swift towel dry. She hovered a couple slices of bread into her toaster as she reached out a hoof to open her fridge. Her eyes scanned across the mostly barren selves, eventually catching sight of a lone bottle of beer. A frown appeared on her face as she halfheartedly shut the door, trotting over to her coffee machine. As she begun arranging the necessary components for her coffee, her mind drifted towards work, attempting to keep her thoughts from the little things nagging her about this morning.
As Octavia did not record every day, Mix had Vinyl doing other work at the studio all week – and likely for the foreseeable future – to keep her income consistent, as well as an eye on her. She got stuck with a lot of minor technical issues and small tweaks all over the studio that were usually given out as small tasks across the entire staff. However, with how busy they were at this time, Vinyl was picking up the slack so that Mix could get more administrative and business work done. They could have gotten by without her, but having her made the entire operation smoother for the time being. She really did not mind the work, as it was something to keep herself busy with, and as long as she had coffee, she could even start work in the morning – she still bemoaned her fate for having to, but she always came into work ready.
Today, however, was a recording day, as she just so happily remembered. Vinyl had been eagerly awaiting the next recording day, convincing herself it was because it was far more entertaining than the usual grunt work, but she would be lying to herself if she was not looking forward to hearing Octavia play again. As she thought about this, she slowly found herself becoming fixated on the brewing of her coffee – the slow drizzle of the rich, dark liquid filling the pot had her completely transfixed. The sound of toast springing up from behind her roused the DJ from her daze. She gave her head a quick shake, letting out a sigh. What's up with me today? She pushed the thoughts away and focused on getting ready for the day. Vinyl wanted to have a good day, and did not plan on letting a few questionable thoughts or events ruin that for her.
* * * * * * * * * *
“Good morning, Vinyl.” The DJ was not surprised to see Octavia in the studio before her – she expected as much – but she was a little stunned by the warmth in the cellist's voice. Taking this as a good sign, Vinyl put on a smile and trotted happily into the room.
“Morning,” she replied casually. “What's on the schedule today?”
As Vinyl situated herself at the console, Octavia opened up a second case that the DJ had not noticed and removed a violin from it. “I had been previously uncertain as to whether or not I wanted to include any non-cello pieces on this album. However, I have now decided that the variety would bring more culture and appeal to the album.”
Turning around and giving her a hidden roll of her eyes, Vinyl spoke to Octavia in deadpan tone. “So, we're recording violin music today?” The cellist-also-violinist gave a small cough, clearing her throat before affirming the DJ's question with a yes and nod of her head.
“I was also thinking,” the grey mare said as she entered the booth, “that since we have the room booked for today, it would be rather unnecessary of me to return to my apartment to practice while you work on anything that needs touching up here.”
Vinyl thought about this, wondering if Octavia assumed there would be enough editing to allow her much time to practice. For her part, she believed that the cellist's music was in need of no real fixes, save for maybe a touch here and there, but Octavia was the client so Vinyl would do the work she was asked to. “Yeah, we can go over the tracks for you once you're done, and you can practice while I do whatever needs to get done.” Octavia seemed pleased about this and proceeded to close the booth door and prepare to play. With that, the mare at the console worked her usual magic and the red light lit up.
Without the need to mask her interest, Vinyl listened eagerly, curious about Octavia's performance with a violin. Unsurprisingly to the DJ, her client's skill with a violin was nothing short of breathtaking. A slow, melancholy melody filled the booth, flooding into the recording equipment and, more importantly, into Vinyl's heart. She could not help herself from being overtaken by the music, and soon she found herself crying behind the cover of her oversized shades. These were not sobs that wracked her very soul, or the simple sniffles of a filly, but a shade between – these were warm, soft tears, cried out in slow murmurs.
Mustering all her willpower, Vinyl managed to stop her crying before the song ended, wiping away the tears that would be most obvious to the mare inside the booth – she may have been okay with expressing her enjoyment of Octavia's music, but she had no intention of being a gibbering wreck in front of her. It took a moment for her to realize the cellist had stopped playing, turning her head to the booth and flashing a quick smile to cover any suspicions that may have been arising. “Definitely no worries about that one,” she announced over the speaker, “you play the violin quiet well.”
“I would hardly be doing a professional recording,” she replied coolly, “for an instrument I could not play well.” There was the tiniest glimmer of joy in Vinyl when Octavia had said 'professional recording', remembering that she was recording for a very well known musicians. Earlier in the week, the DJ had done a little searching about to see just how well known the cellist was – when she realized the scale of her success she almost shrunk back at the mere thought of it. On the surface, Vinyl would always play up an uncaring attitude about the success of other ponies, but she had, quite honestly, begun to feel more than a tad inadequate next to Octavia. That, on top of her erratic moods had been making her plan of having a good day harder to realize.
“Ready for the next?” the mare at the console asked, trying her best to focus on her work.
After a little shuffle to readjust herself, Octavia raised her violin to its position. “Ready.”
* * * * * * * * * *
The pair passed the time until lunch with relative ease – between the recording of new tracks and a few additional takes on previous ones, Octavia had yet to do any of the practice she had suggested earlier. As the cellist stepped out from the booth she immediately, though not too swiftly or eagerly, turned to Vinyl. “Would you like to do lunch again, Vinyl?”
“Sure, sounds good,” the other mare replied, hopping off from her seat at the console and following Octavia out the door. “Do we want to go to the same place again, or look for something different?”
The cellist pondered this for a moment as they walked down the halls. “I do not recall seeing anything that particularly sparked my interested when we were out last – I quite enjoyed that café and would not mind visiting it again.”
“'Kay.” Vinyl rolled her eyes behind her shades, thinking to herself that Octavia could have said that the same place was fine. They continued on, destination set as they exited the studio, promptly turning down the street.
“Ah, we forgot to ask Mix if would be interested today,” the cellist announced after they walked a block. “He did say he would take us up on the offer another time.”
Vinyl hummed and nodded her head. “Yeah, but we can always just invite him next time.” She had said it without much thought, and did not notice the vaguely intrigued look Octavia had given her – whether or not she consciously planned on having lunch with the cellist again, she had subconsciously taken it for granted.
“Indeed we can,” Octavia replied, dropping her gaze from Vinyl and deciding to forgo looking into the meaning of the other mare's words. The two were silent for a time as they continued to walk to the café. Birds chirped over head, the sky bright and clear as the city beneath it hummed with life, busying itself with its own affairs. The gentle clip-clop of hooves against pavement resonated around them, mixing with the sound of their own steps. They soon found themselves at the café and where met by the same bright-eyed mare as before, who greeted them with a smile and tone of familiarity, despite this being only the second time they had encountered each other. After they were seated and given menus, the mare promptly left to fetch them coffee.
“She's a friendly one, isn't she?” Octavia announced more than asked.
Vinyl nodded as she flipped through the menu. “Yeah, maybe a little too peppy, but she's nice enough.” Once she had decided on her lunch, the DJ closed the menu and looked up to find the cellist looking at her thoughtfully. “Something on your mind?”
“Well,” she replied, clearing her throat and promptly shifting her gaze, “I was curious about the recording incident last week and-”
The mare across the table waved a hoof dismissively as she set her shades upon the table. She was about to respond when the waitress return with the coffee and asked to take their orders. They placed them quickly, Octavia picking the same order she had last week as she had not read the menu today. Once the young mare left, Vinyl turned back to the cellist. “Look, it's no biggy – you had a slip-up, I lied a little, but you're good now and I owned up to it.”
“I understand all of that, however, I am curious as to why you lied about the recording.”
A small scowl formed on the DJ's lips as she began stirring sugar into her coffee. “What, didn't you believe me before – I like your music, is that so hard to accept?”
“No, it is not hard to accept that you like my music because, quite frankly, so many ponies enjoy my music it would be more unbelievable if you did not.”
“So what, you're super popular and plenty of highbrow ponies like you music? Am I not supposed to because I'm a DJ?”
Octavia furrowed her brow, sipping her coffee as she stared at the mare across from her who was becoming increasingly disgruntled. “Why would you even think I was insinuating that?”
“Because classical musicians always look down on modern artists and DJ's.” At this point, Vinyl's expression was a mixture of anger and remorse, and Octavia was beginning to see what was bothering her.
“Vinyl,” she said softly, lowering her eyes to gaze into the dark liquid in her cup, “I'm sorry if you have a poor opinion of classical musicians, and I understand that there are those among us that look down upon newer styles of music and those that promote them. However, you cannot go around holding everypony to your unfair biases just because you feel like some of them have wronged you.”
The DJ relaxed her features, looking at the contemplative cellist across from her. Taking a moment to also reflect upon the surface of her coffee, she let out a sigh and looked back up at Octavia. “Yeah, you're right – it's not fair of me to be saying shit like that without even asking you about it. I've always just assumed that anypony that plays classical music would think less of me for being a DJ, like I'm not good enough for their music.”
“Music is a personal affair, Vinyl, even when we treat it professionally – I doubt I need to explain that to you, if you really do care about music. You told me last week that a pony cannot control how their tastes work. Yes, you can expose yourself to new and different kinds of foods and acquire diverse tastes as you age and experience more, but your tastes will always be your tastes, no matter what happens – you were always going to enjoy current kinds of foods, and dislike others. Is music not the same way? Why is it that some ponies enjoy classical music while others do not? Is one group wrong and the other right? No, it is all about personal taste.
“I won't pretend that I have not had my fair share of looking down upon new genres – in my college years I was convinced that electronic music was nothing but a fad, a flavour of the month that would eventually end up in some trash bin where it belonged. Some ponies never get over these sorts of views and biases, but most of us realize, at one point or another, that it's all just personal tastes. There's good and bad when it comes to technique, structure, and the like, but at the end of the day, none of that matters if you are not happy listening to the music.”
Octavia sighed and cast a look out to the city streets and the ponies that past by. “Quite honestly, though, I am blowing a little hot air – if it were not for you being the one recording for me and what you said about taste, I would not have have spent time this past week thinking on the subject. So, as odd as it seems to me, I want to thank you for making me realize this, because certainly no pony else was going to.” As those last word left the cellists lip, the mare across from her sat stunned in silence. Vinyl had spent so much time worrying that Octavia looked down upon her for being a DJ, but her she was, thanking her for something she never even intended to do. Not since her college years with Mix had Vinyl felt like she had truly done anything worthy of anypony's thanks, but here it was, coming from the most unlikely of places. She felt the genuine appreciate the cellist expressed to her, and it made her feel quite pleasant inside.
“You're welcome, I guess?” the DJ eventually muttered happily, a hint of a giggle in her words. “I hope you don't think I was trying to make you think about all that – not that it ain't great that you did, but I was never trying to make anything happen except explain my coffee habits.”
Looking back to Vinyl with a small smile, Octavia nodded her head a little. “I assumed that this revelation of mine was not your intended doing, and that you would more than likely be surprised by it, but it is still your doing all the same. If you don't mind, though, I would still like a clear answer to my previous question: why did you lie about the recording?”
“Well, if it isn't obvious by now, I don't have the best opinion of classical musicians, and I had always thought classical was rather boring. Now, hey, it's not like I couldn't appreciate the work and everything that went into the stuff, but it just didn't stick with me like other music did – it felt kinda lifeless. But then I heard you play, and, well, it was really good. It went against all my beliefs on classical music, and I didn't really know how to feel about it. On top of that, I kept thinking that you'd just turn your snout up at me if I bothered to say anything nice about your music, so I acted as indifferent as possible.
“The lie about the recording, though, was a lot less thought out – I just blurted it out at the time. Honestly, I wanted you to go back to playing well for myself. So, yeah, I really just lied to get something for myself... big surprise.” As if the waitress had a penchant for bringing their food at the least opportune moment, the bright-eyed mare appeared again. After the pair thanked her she departed quickly, though Octavia swore she saw her take another look at them before she left. When she turned back, Vinyl had already began eating.
“You're being too hard on yourself,” the cellist said, taking another sip of her coffee as she eyed her food. “You told me yesterday that you did not me to feel worse about my lack luster performance, remember?”
The DJ stopped eating for a moment but did not look up. “Yeah, but I also said I lie, remember?”
“If you are somepony that lies, why go and admit that? It just makes it harder to get away with lying.”
“Exactly.” Unsure of how to continue approaching the subject, Octavia took the moment to begin eating her food. The dish was the same as the last time, so when she spent more time watching Vinyl than paying attention to how her food tasted it hardly mattered – she knew what to expect without giving it any mind. Between every bite she would spare a look up to the mare across from her, who was always looking down or away from the cellist. As the pair got a good way through their meal, Octavia eventually grew tired of the current state of affairs.
“I'm sorry if I encroached on a personal matter,” she spoke up, dabbing her lips with a napkin.
Vinyl finished the last bite of her meal, swallowing slowly before finally look back at Octavia. “No, I'm sorry about ruining a perfectly fine lunch by acting like a mopey teenager.”
“I'm sure you have your reasons.”
“Hah, yeah, bad ones.” The DJ gave a weak smile as she turned her stare out to the street. “They say we all have our reasons, but I wonder sometimes, do we always want to know what those reasons are?”
The cellist gave a nod before finishing of her meal. “Well, how about we pay for this and make our way back to the studio?”
“Sounds good to me.” Octavia ushered the waitress over, much to her delight, thanking her again and asking for the bill. In a moment she returned with a small piece of paper that was their bill and set it upon the table, taking away their dishes as the two mares fished out their money. Once they had paid, the pair got up, Octavia making sure to give the bright-eyed mare an appreciative nod before they departed.
“If we come back here,” the cellist said as they made their way down the street, “I should make a point to get that mare's name.”
Vinyl adjusted how her shades rested upon her face as they walked. “Didn't she say what her name was in her little spiel the first time?”
“She likely did, but I will admit that I have forgotten it all but completely. Nevertheless, I would like to more formally make her acquaintance.”
“Whatever floats your boat,” Vinyl muttered disinterestedly, far more keen on listening to Octavia play music rather than her talk about formal meetings. The pair continued on in silence until they reached the studio, entering and quickly making their way to their workroom. Once they were settled back in, Vinyl began the process of going over the album with Octavia – they picked out which takes were the best, decided against any whole-out retakes, and only found a bit here and there that could do with some touch-up. Evidently, the cellist had not taken into account how long reviewing the album would take, and soon realized that it was getting late – her practice would have to wait for another time.
As Octavia packed up her instruments, Vinyl turned off the equipment and reflected on the day. Overall, she decided, today had been a good day, meaning that her goal for the day had be realized and she could go home happy. True, a part of her wanted to stay here, listening to Octavia play her wonderful music, but she knew that was not going to happen. She let out a small sigh and slipped off her chair at the console. As she did, the cellist finished packing and turned to her.
“I have recently found myself without anypony to accompany me to a concert this Saturday,” she dove in without hesitation. “I was wondering if, perhaps, you may be interested in accompanying me.”
Vinyl was surprised by the sudden invitation, and took a moment before she responded to think. “I assume it's a classical show?”
“It is, but it is by a most wonderful quartet that has never failed to impress me – their music really is inspiring.”
“Well, I guess I'm not really doing anything Saturday anyways-”
“Excellent, it's settled then.” The DJ gave Octavia a sharp stare from behind her shades, but this was another look that would go unnoticed by the other. “The concert is a tad earlier than most – five o'clock, to be precise – so I believe we should do dinner after instead of the usual case of before.”
Once again, Vinyl was taken aback. “Dinner?”
“Yes, Vinyl, dinner – we can hardly go to see a splendid concert such as this and not make a night of it.”
“Oh, alright.”
Octavia furrowed her brow and gave the DJ a questioning gaze. “What, is something the matter with dinner?”
“Nah, it's just that I never figured you to be the 'make a night of it' type of pony, even if it's not as wild as, say, when I make a night of it.”
“I may not go gallivanting around, boozing and engaging in questionable activity, but I know how to have an enjoyable night out.”
“Hey,” the DJ began as she trotted towards the door, “nothing wrong with a chill evenin' – that can be cool too.” Once she got to the door, Vinyl turned to see the cellist had collected her instruments and was heading to the door as well. “So, it's at five, right – when and where do you want me showing up?”
The pair had now exited the recording room and were making their way down the hall as they spoke. “Do you know where the Hoofington hotel is?”
“Yeah, up on Main in the old downtown.”
“Indeed. I live in the apartment adjacent to the Hoofington – come to my apartment at four-thirty, if you could, so we have time to get to the concert hall and be relatively early.”
“I hope 'relatively early' doesn't mean I'm going to be sitting around for too long.”
Octavia shook her head as the exited the studio. “No, Vinyl, you won't have to wait long before the show. Now, I do hope you have something suitable to wear.”
“Ugh, I have to be early AND get dressed up?” The cellist simply gave Vinyl a hard glare in response. “Fine, fine. Yeah, I've got a nice dress that I only ever wear when I go with Mix to big industry events – I'm sure it's good for this.”
“So long as you attend in formal attire, you should be alright. Now then, we're all settled on the matter?”
“Mhm, I'll dress nice, show up at your place around four-thirty, and then we'll go to the show, followed by dinner – make a night of it, right?” Octavia seemed rather satisfied with this response and bade Vinyl goodbye as she trotted off towards her home. The DJ watched silently as the cellist walked down the street with her instruments slung over her back and sides, swaying with each quick step of the gray mare's hooves. Looking up to the sky as it slowly grew darker, Vinyl agreed with herself once more: today definitely had been good.
Author's Note
Alright, a day before the 19th, soooooo technically less than a month this time. :sheepishtwilight:
Anyways, I'll keep this brief: I really like how this chapter came out and the transition into mature content just happened and felt natural, so I'm going with it.
I'm doing a shipfic challenge for the next two weeks, so expect a new story within that time, but it might be a while again for the next chapter of Scratches because of that. Don't worry though, because I'm FINALLY on a consistent schedule with my artwork and writing, so I should be getting chapters out a lot faster following this little challenge.
As per usual, I hope you all enjoyed this chapter. :)
Scratches Across the Record
Author's Note
Vinyl awoke to the sound of sharp beeps and the low mumble of a voice near her. Her eyes opened slowly to a bright light and barrage of white, instilling pain and surprise in the back of her head. Attempting to lift her right hoof to cover her eyes, she winced as her hoof shook, pain jolting through her body. The mere thought of more movement was unbearable, so she opted to simply deal with the bright lights and open her eyes. As she looked up, careful to do so without tilting her head, she was greeted by the sight of a tall, beige unicorn looking down at her.
“Awake now, Vinyl?” he asked slowly.
“My eyes are open, aren't they?” Vinyl replied sarcastically, another spot of pain shooting this time from around her muzzle.
“Had to ask; sometimes I forget you even have eyes underneath those shades of yours.”
“Har har, Mix… Now, you mind telling me what’s going on?”
“I came here to ask you that same question. I don’t hear from you in almost a week and then I find out your in the hospital?”
“Right… I guess that does make sense.” Vinyl closed her eyes and let out a deep breath.
“It might make sense to you, but from where I’m standing, I haven’t got the slightest clue as to what happened to you.”
“Well, you see-”
“And before you try to dodge around the issue and lie to me, I’m going to tell you this right now: you're going to tell me exactly what happened, or you can just forget about ever gettin’ another gig in your life.” Opening her eyes again, Vinyl looked back at Mix with a sombre sigh, scrunching her nose slightly, even though it hurt.
“Alright,” she said quietly, “I guess you were going to hear about this at some point… Well, you, more than anypony, have seen how bad it’s been for me to get gigs lately, so I’ve been a bit strapped for bits lately. I realized, with the bill for the rent comin’ up, I should probably check on my bits, right? It’s just that, when I figured out how much I had left, I realized… I wasn’t going to have enough for rent.”
“So you figured,” Mix interrupted her, trying to hide his anger, “that you’d just not get a paying job for about a week? Is that it?”
“You know gettin’ gigs isn’t that easy for me ri-“
“No, Vinyl, getting’ you gigs isn’t easy for ME !”
“I- I know… sorry. But anyways… I knew I needed that money, and quick, so I didn’t want to put all my hope into possibly getting a gig that might pay enough to cover my rent, so…”
“So… what?”
“I thought I could that the dice or cards might be able to pay my rent.”
“You went out gambling?!”
“Just to cover this month’s rent… I ain’t tryin’ to make it a regular thing, ya’ know?”
“I don’t care if you did it once or you did it a hundred times, Vinyl, the point is you were out gambling when you don’t even have the money to pay your rent! And, on top of that, you landed yourself in the hospital, which Celestia only knows how that’s connected. I mean, what, did you get yourself mugged or something after winning a big prize in a shady place?”
“If there hadn’t been three of them-”
“Oh my- you did get mugged! This is just another reason why gambling around here is a terrible idea.”
“But I-”
“Don’t try to justify it!” Vinyl slunk as far back into the hospital bed as was ponily possible, trying to pull herself away from Mix… from reality. Even though her eyes were fixed on the folds in the sheets resting atop her body, she could feel Mix’s eyes on her, boring into her with anger and disappointment. In that moment she wanted nothing more than to disappear and forgot about everything. Mix sighed and brought a hoof to his face, rubbing his eye in exasperation.
“Vinyl,” he began slowly, “you’ve got a problem.”
“I-” she began, twisting her head back towards beige unicorn.
“No . Just listen. You have a problem: you’re drinking and partying has gotten out of hoof, and not just out of your hoof, but mine as well. I could patch things up with the club owners that you pissed off with your drunken antics, and I could cover your flank the odd time you almost missed a set, but I can NOT fix things when you end up skipping out on a buck load of sets because you’re too damn drunken to even walk. I can’t be around to filly-sit for you every single day; I have other jobs too, Vinyl, and, honestly, I wouldn’t lose that much if I just stopped working for you and getting you gigs. But… I like you Vinyl; we’re friends and I’ve always been there for you, and I hate to see you like this. You’re not just ruining your career with all of this, but you’re digging yourself a deep hole.”
Mix was right, and Vinyl knew it; she couldn’t keep ignoring her problems, especially now that her last poor choice had far wore state. The silence between the two stretched on as Vinyl lay there, trying to think of something to say to the one pony that had always been there for her. In her line of work, Vinyl had met a great many ponies, mostly in clubs or at parties, and, such is the way of those worlds, she never really kept in touch with most of the ponies she's met. In fact, Vinyl could not remember the last actual friend she had made. In the end, Mix was all she really had, and he had never let her down before, even if she did nothing but let him down.
“You’re right,” she finally uttered sadly.
“Well, the first part to fixing the problem,” Mix replied, now calm and composed, “is to admit that it’s there. I know you hate help with things like this, because you feel like it makes you a weak charity case, but you’re just going to have to suck it up this time: I’m paying this month’s rent for you.”
“Mix…”
“This isn’t going to be a regular thing, Vinyl, so don’t go thinking that you can just fall back on me if this happens again. Now, if you’re willing to take the jobs I can get you, I can promise you some real work to help get you back on your hooves.”
“Anything. I promise.”
“This means I’m taking you out of the general DJing scene for a while; we’re going to try and let your awful rep die off. Hopefully, after you go do some proper work, you can get back into being a DJ in the good clubs you used to do sets at before all of this. Can you do that?”
“Yeah… I’ll do it.”
“Good, that’s what I like to hear, because, as it so happens, I already have a job lined up for you.”
“Really?” Vinyl’s eyes lit up at the mention of work. “What kind of work?”
“It’s something that I know you can do, but it’s in a lot more upper-class of a setting than you’re used to.” The sparkle in Vinyl’s eyes faded away and she stopped to think. ‘What kind of work could I be good at in an upper-class setting? I spend all my time in lively, hopping clubs; what place for me is there around a bunch of stuffy, uptight ponies?’ she thought.
“You’re going to be doing some recording for a very well known musician.”
“Wait… what?!” The thought of her, Vinyl Scratch, being able to work with a real, top notch, big league musician would have made her heart soar, if it weren’t likely to soar against her bruised rib cage.
“Yup. You’ll be recording Octavia Philharmonica’s first solo album.” Once again, the joy drained out of Vinyl faster than she could blink. She had absolutely no idea who this ‘Octavia’ was supposed to be, but with such a fancy name, she assumed she must be just another snooty, upper-class type pony.
“Vinyl,” Mix sighed, seeing the unimpressed look on the mare’s face, “you need this work, whether you like it or not. At least look at this as a chance to meet some influential ponies and possibly learn something."
“Learn something ? From a bunch of uptight bigwigs? Ha! Like that’ll happen.”
“I don’t care if you think that you’re better than them or if you think that they’re bucking aliens; you just need to be polite and do the damn job, at the very least.” Vinyl scoffed and shrugged her shoulders, noticing a surprising lack of pain in her movement.
“If it means not having to end up here or borrowing money from you again… then I guess it’s gotta be done.”
“Good enough. Now, I’ve got to get going, so you rest up and give me a call once you’re out of here, so we can start you up with Octavia and the recording.” Mix turned around and began walking to the door as Vinyl opened her mouth hesitantly.
“Thanks, Mix,” she said softly.
“You can thank me after you’ve proved that you’re better,” he replied somberly, “but I’ve got faith in you, Vinyl.” As Mix trotted out of the room, Vinyl sighed and tilted her head towards the ceiling, and began staring at the almost unnervingly white surface above her.
**********
While Vinyl had spent less than a day in the hospital, she had decided, on the doctor’s orders (whom she’d normally never listen to), to take an extra day to recuperate. After that, she had called up Mix and got the information on her new job: he gave her Octavia’s address and explained how she even had a spare room made into the recording space for comfort and convenience. Even though she said nothing of it, Vinyl had mentally cursed this pony for thinking of that; she knew there’d be no easy way to slip out for a drink if she couldn’t get back into the apartment without Octavia knowing. She had begrudgingly thanked Mix again for getting her the job and left quickly to go to Octavia’s.
Now, Vinyl found herself in front of an intercom at the doors of a swanky looking building. She clicked the button and the swirl of magic at this end of the device told the other end in Octavia’s apartment that somepony wanted her attention.
“Hello?” a soft, monotone voice rang through the speakers after a brief delay.
“Hey,” Vinyl replied quickly, “I’m Vinyl Scratch – I’m here to record for Octavia.”
“Ah, good. Come right up then. If you didn’t have it already, my apartment number is 218, and please don’t dawdle.” The intercom switched off and a magical click swung the door in front of Vinyl open. She sighed and rolled her eyes behind her massive purple shades. ‘Don’t dawdle, ’ she thought, ‘I’ll dawdle as much as I bucking please, Ms Fancypants!’ After a relatively short elevator ride, Vinyl found herself staring at the door of apartment 218. ‘I can do this,’ she said inwardly, trying to reassure herself, ‘I’ve played at all the toughest clubs and dealt with more than my fair share of ponies, so what’s one little uptight musician compared to all that? Nothing! That’s what!’
Raising a hoof she knocked at the door in the most confident fashion she could muster. Within seconds she heard a latch slide out and a deadbolt spring back with a thud. The door was opened by a grey mare with an immaculate black mane, a pink bowtie around her neck, and an air of grace and dignity about her.
“Miss Scratch, I presume,” she spoke calmly, eyeing the other pony carefully.
“That’s me!” Vinyl replied, flashing a huge grin to the grey mare.
“I’m Octavia. Now, if you please, come with me: I’d like to get started.” Upon entering the apartment, Vinyl was quick to look the place over. The simple, clean, and white décor of Octavia’s living space immediately set Vinyl off. ‘How could anypony live here?’ she thought, ‘This place looks more like a bucking showroom then a lived in apartment.’ She continued to follow the grey mare down another startlingly clean hallway to the recording room.
“Here we are,” Octavia said, ushering Vinyl inside.
“Now this is a room!” she hollered, galloping straight to the mixing console, shoving a startled Octavia out of the way in her rush. With a grin plastered on her face, Vinyl scanned over the console and began studying the equipment. While she did not have a set up like this at her place, seeing as most of her work was electronic and synthesized, she had a lot of experience with mixing, and had even done a few recording jobs in the past. “You’ve definitely got a sick set up here.”
“Well,” Octavia started, adjusting her bowtie and brushing a hoof across her mane, “I fail to see how my recording equipment could be physically ill, but…” She had stopped, noticing Vinyl staring at her, an unimpressed look coming across strongly even with her shades covering a great deal of her face.
“Sick means that it’s good,” Vinyl sighed, lifting her shades up a tad as she rubbed her eye with a hoof. ‘Sick equipment or not,’ she thought, ‘this is going to be a long day.’
**********
“Miss Scratch!” Octavia shouted as she threw open the door of the live booth. A startled Vinyl shot her head up from the hoof she had been resting on.
“W-what?!” she stammered in shock.
“You were asleep!” Octavia growled.
“You can’t blame me…” Vinyl yawned and stretched out her limbs. “I can’t imagine how anypony would stay awake through that much boring music.”
“Boring?! I’ll have you know that my ‘boring’ music packs entire theatres quite frequently.”
“Huh, I didn’t realize there were so many fancy-smancy ponies that paid just to be put to sleep.”
“Oh! The nerve! To suggest that I put theatres of ponies to sleep?!”
“Look, all I know is when I pack a club, ain’t nopony fallin’ asleep there.”
“I'd hardly an achievement,” Octavia scoffed, throwing her chin up and tossing her head to the side, “that would be like expecting a pony to fall asleep next to an avalanche of pots and pans – which, might I add, would be less of an assault on one’s ears than your pitiful excuse for music.” Vinyl titled her shades down as she gritted her teeth together, trying her best not to let the tidal wave of slurs and curses she had in the mind break through the dam that was her mouth. Noticing the anger bubbling behind the unicorn’s eyes, Octavia fidgeted and lowered her head, looking away from Vinyl.
“I apologize,” she said slowly. “Even though you did brand my music as boring, there was no call for me to be so offensive towards your music myself; it was very improper of me.” Vinyl relaxed, letting out a sigh and readjusting her shades so that her emotions could be hidden once again.
“Whatever,” Vinyl muttered, turning to the dials of the mixing console, “don’t go feelin’ bad about it; I’ve heard a lot worse things from ponies plenty angrier than you.”
“Well then,” Octavia started nervously, “let’s get back to work, shall we?”
“Sure… Uh, I guess I’ll need to cut that last piece, since I forgot to stop recording when you were done playing.” Vinyl began working the console, something that was completely alien to Octavia as she had absolutely no idea how any of it worked. She had the recording studio built into her apartment for ease of access, not with any interest in learning how to use it herself. Whether or not Vinyl was good with the equipment, Octavia had to at least admit she could work it, which was more than she could claim.
As the last piece began playing, Octavia noted a look of disappointment on the unicorn’s face. Her horn began glowing and, using her magic, she began turning knobs and moving sliders. Soon, the grey mare realized that Vinyl was turning up the bass level an amount that she found quite disturbing.
“Still doesn’t feel right,” Vinyl said thought, rubbing her chin with a hoof.
“That’s because you’re ruining it!” Octavia groaned.
“Ruining it? I’m trying my best to fix it! Now… maybe if I mixed in a good wobble bass-”
“Miss Scratch! There will be no ‘wobbles’ in my music!”
“Oh for Celestia’s sake… just call me Vinyl; Miss Scratch sounds so bucking formal.”
“Well one of us needs to be proper, especially with all your loose vulgarity.”
“Don’t know what’cha said and I don’t give a buck.” Vinyl smirked and went back to the dials, returning the bass and other settings to more ‘respectable’ levels. “There… ya’ happy, your highness?”
“Much better, but please, don’t call me ‘your highness’ ; I may be vastly more acclaimed and proper than you, but I am far from royalty.”
“Whatever you want, Octy.”
“Miss… I mean… Vinyl, could you not-”
“Don’t. Bucking. Care.” Octavia let out an exasperated sigh and began walking back through the door to the live booth.
“Just get that last track cut and tell me when you’re ready for the next one.”
“Aye aye, captain.”
**********
Vinyl had managed to stay awake through the rest of the recording session, which was largely due to the fact that Octavia had allowed her to make some coffee for herself. Coffee had no effect on how bored Vinyl was by the music, but, as it happens, she had actually fallen asleep early due to her sleep patterns being affected by her trip to the hospital and her lack of clubbing as of late. As Octavia began packing up her cello, the DJ began checking over the mixing console and making sure there weren’t any glaring anomalies with the recordings before shutting the studio down for the night.
It had, in fact, gotten pretty late as the hours passed the ponies by in the windowless room. Vinyl, not being one to really care about what time it was, never even bothered to check the time, so when Octavia stepped out and noticed the time on the only clock in the room, she scrunched her nose up and sighed.
“Vinyl,” she muttered.
“Yeah?” the unicorn replied, barely paying attention as she focused on the console in front of her.
“You should have told me that it was getting late.”
“I didn’t check- I didn’t care.”
“Well I, for one, have a schedule and like to follow that as much as possible.”
“So sue me. We got a lot of recording done; what’s the harm if we went a little late into the night?”
“I guess you’re used to not sleeping like a normal pony, but I-”
“'-for one am an uptight prude, who’s cello bow is shoved so far up my-' ”
“Vinyl! Don’t you dare even start to say things like that!” Vinyl simply laughed as she got up from the mixing console, a smile stretched across her face as she trotted out of the room. As she began to walk down the hall, she turned and looked into Octavia’s living room, seeing a pair of glasses and a bottle of some form of alcohol next to them.
“Expecting company, Octy?” Vinyl laughed as she turned back to watch the grey mare leave the recording room.
“I was going to ask if you would like to stay for a drink…” she replied calmly, walking past Vinyl and towards the door. Octavia couldn’t see it past the unicorn’s large shades, but Vinyl had been caught off guard and her eyes were nervously moving between the drinks and the cellist, who had just reached her door. “However, I feel that such an act of courtesy would be lost on somepony like you.”
“That’s fine,” Vinyl replied, trying to retain her composure, “I don’t really feel like drinking some bucking awful, high class excuse for booze with a prude anyways.” She trotted by Octavia smugly as she held the door open for her with a scowl set across her face.
“I expected nothing less,” Octavia groaned as Vinyl exited her apartment and stepped into the hallway. “Honestly, Vinyl, how you ever got this job is beyond me; Mix is a respected studio owner and I know more than a few quality musicians to work with him.”
“Yeah, he’s quite the pony; I’m glad we’re buds.”
“I fail to see why he would want to put up with you, let alone be friends with you.”
“Yeah, well, doesn’t matter do you, does it? If you don’t like me so much why don’t you…” Vinyl stopped mid sentence, realizing what she was about to say. ‘I can’t give her anymore reason to want to fire me,’ she thought nervously, ‘Mix will be furious with me if I blow this… not to mention I’ll have no bucking money.’ As Vinyl stood there, stuck on her thoughts, mouth half open in mid speech, Octavia simply stared at her in confusion. In all the time she had just spent with Vinyl (which was, granted, not really that long) she had never seen the brash mare simply be at a loss for words.
“Why don’t I what?” Octavia asked slowly.
“N-nothing,” the DJ replied, swallowing her pride. “So, when do you want me to come in for more work?”
“Well, I’d like to take full advantage of my access to an in-house studio, so if you could come back again tomorrow, as I don’t have any engagements planned, that would be… good.”
“Alright… yeah, I can do that.”
“Good.” An uncomfortable silence stretched between the pair, quickly being broken by Octavia nodding and closing the door. For a moment, Vinyl simply stood there, staring at the smooth, oak door in front of her. ‘I know I’m sucking it up and dealing with her for Mix and for the money,’ she thought as she began walking towards the elevators, ‘but why do I sorta wish that I had gotten to sit down for a drink with her…’
First of all, I want to thank each and every person that has chosen to take time from their day to read my story. This is my first story on fimfiction, and my first fanfiction as well - it's also the first thing I've seriously tried to write in Celestia knows how long. -chuckle/sigh-
Second, many thanks to: CoffeeGrunt, for writing Allegrezza; Corey W. Williams, for writing The Vinyl Scratch Tapes (which need to have more of the episodes recorded! Seriously!); and everyone else in the MLP FiM community - you're all amazing people and you've really inspired me to get up off my lazy ass and start doing things again. :)
So, here we go, the start of yet another TaviScratch story! Hopefully this will be one to remember, with some real excitement, emotion, and fun/depressing/complex/interesting characters for you to enjoy. Comments are greatly appreciated, especially if you've got some good feedback for me.
Once again, thanks for giving my humble little story a chance. :)
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Scratches Across the Record
(OLD) Can one day truly be like all the others?
Author's Note
As Octavia sat in her apartment, brushing her mane and looking placidly out of her window, a loud beep from across the room snapped her back to reality. She set down her brush and walked over to the intercom, pressing down a button with her hoof.
“Hello?” she spoke, clearing her throat.
“Yo, it’s me,” a sharp voice replied through the speakers.
“Vinyl, you’re lucky you’re the only pony I know that talks like that, or I’d have asked you to actually say who you are.”
“I’d hardly call it lucky: I still just had to listen to you drone on about nothin’.”
“Just hurry up, would you please?” Before Vinyl could reply, Octavia quickly removed her hoof from the speaker button and clicked down the button to open to building doors. With a sigh, she went back to pick up her brush and return it to her room, after which she began to make sure that her apartment was neat and tidy. It was not at all because Vinyl was coming up; Octavia figured that the unkempt DJ probably lived in a filthy excuse for an apartment anyways, so what was a mess to her? No, the mare simply enjoyed having a clean living space and thought there was no reason to leave a mess lying about her apartment.
After she was sufficiently pleased with the state of her apartment, Octavia heard the loud smack of a hoof against her door. Determined to keep composure through the work day, Octavia took a deep breath and donned her best air of contentment and dignity and trotted towards the door. Her composure quickly vanished as she opened the door and laid her eyes upon Vinyl.
“Hey,” the unicorn muttered sheepishly between taking gulps of alcohol from a translucent brown bottle.
“Why in Equestria are you drinking so early in the day?” Octavia ask, confused and disgusted.
“‘Cause there wasn’t anything in my place to eat? I figured I shouldn’t work on an empty stomach... shame, though, ‘cause this was the last of my booze.” Vinyl trotted by the dumbfound cellist as she finished the last swig of her drink. “Got somewhere I could toss this?” Octavia simply stood and stared, still holding the door open, at the unicorn as she waved the empty bottle at her. Shaking her head and trying to give up on understanding the DJ’s strange habits, Octavia closed the door and walked over to Vinyl, taking the bottle from her and dropping it in a recycling bin in her kitchen.
“So you haven’t eaten all day?” she asked, washing her hooves; she had no idea where that bottle (or Vinyl’s hooves, for that matter) had been, and wasn’t about to take any chances.
“Well,” Vinyl started, stroking her chin, “I only got up about an hour ago, so I wouldn’t call it ‘all day’.”
“Vinyl, it’s two in the afternoon and you just woke up an hour ago?!”
“Yeah – are you ears not working or somethin’?”
“I mean...” She let out a long sigh as she dried off her hooves. “Well, never mind that. Anyways, you shouldn’t be drinking on an empty stomach; did you at least think to drink some water before you downed that?”
“Duh, I’m not knew to drinking.”
“I figured as much...” Octavia walked over to her bread box, carefully grabbing two pieces of bread and proceeding to drop them into her toaster. “Now, because I don’t want you grumbling, moaning, passing out, or, Celestia forbid, getting sick , I’m going to at least give you some toast and something non-alcoholic to drink.”
“Aw, Octy, you’re such a saint.”
“And could you please stop calling me that?”
“But your name is too bucking long. Like: Oc -ta -vi -a . So, making a short form for your name is just easier. Plus, it’s only fair: Vi-nyl is only two syll… syllables, and so is Oc-ty.” The grey mare simply sighed and shook her head at Vinyl, who smiled as if having outwitted a genius, when, in truth, Octavia was simply just not in the mood to try and understand the unicorn. After a minute of silence between the two, Octavia set down the toast and a glass of orange juice on the counter.
“There,” she said, motioning to the food, “eat that and then we’ll start working. And don’t forgot to wash your hooves, alright?”
“Alright, ‘mom’ .” Octavia walked out of the kitchen to grab her cello case, picking it up and carrying it to the recording room. She switched on the light in the room and brought her cello into the live booth, taking it out of the case and setting it up. There was something slightly unnerving about playing in the small confines of the live booth; she was so used to playing on wide, open stages in grand halls and theatres. Nevertheless, she played just as well in there as she did at live shows; she was good at her craft, no matter where she preformed it.
As she was finishing up tuning her instrument, she heard Vinyl trot into the room and take a seat at the mixing console. The unicorn began flipping switches, watching as lights went on to tell her that all was right with the equipment.
“So,” Vinyl called out from the other side of the glass, “what are we doing today?”
“Well,” Octavia began thoughtfully, “there are three more pieces I want to be on this album… at least for now. So, I believe we should do that, and then we can start going over the tracks individually.”
“Alright- cue boring music!” Octavia simply groaned as she closed the door of the live booth and walked back to her cello to begin recording.
**********
Octavia stepped out of the live booth and began walking up to the mixing console.
“I’ve got to hoof it to you, Octy,” Vinyl said casually, “I’ve never seen so much boring music all in one place before.” The cellist simply stared at her, unimpressed, as usual. “I mean, you’ve got over three hours of the stuff on here. Three bucking hours of sleep inducing sounds!”
“Vinyl! Honestly, could you please stop calling my music boring? I know it’s not spastic enough to hold your sorry excuse for an attention span, but some ponies actually have the patience and the taste to listen to classical music.”
“If I have to sit through hours upon hours of this… 'stuff' … then you can deal with hearing my criticism of it.”
“Oh, don’t try to talk like you whining like a filly is anything remotely close to constructive criticism. Besides, what I still haven’t figured out is: if you can’t stand classical music, why in Equestria did you take this job?”
“I just need the money, okay?”
“But I thought you were the ‘Almighty Vinyl Scratch’ that played in all the ‘best’ clubs and really gave ponies a ‘good time’ . What happen: You drink all your money away?”
“What’s it to you?!” Vinyl shouted, her face snapping towards Octavia. Behind her large, magenta shades, the unicorn did her best to try and hold back her emotions, whether or not Octavia had any chance of seeing them.
“I…” Octavia tilted her head down and bit her lip; this was the second time in two days that she’d gotten Vinyl angry with her. While she felt fairly justified in her rebuttals towards the DJ’s insults about her music, she still felt guilty that she was getting somepony so angry constantly. ‘Vinyl might mock me and my music,’ she thought, ‘but she never really sets out to try and hurt me. So why am I lashing out at her so much?’
“You’re right…” Vinyl muttered, lowering her head back to the console. “I drank a lot of it away…” Octavia lifted her head back up and looked at the strange sight of a sad Vinyl. The mare always seemed too hot-blooded to Octavia, who imagined that if she wasn’t happy or angry with a situation, she’d simply be bored or uninterested.
“Vinyl…” Octavia began, tentatively raising a hoof towards the unicorn.
“Whatever…” Vinyl grumbled, waving away Octavia’s hoof. “Let’s get to the tracks.”
“R-right.” As she began flicking through switches and continuing to work the strange device that was the mixing console, Vinyl eventually brought the first track they had recorded to the speakers. The two let the song play on in silence until the end of the track.
“As boring as it may be,” Vinyl finally spoke, “I’ve got to admit, I doubt I’d ever be able to write something like that. Kudos, Octy.”
“You really shouldn’t be thanking me: I didn’t compose that song.”
“Wait... what?”
“I guess you didn’t notice then?”
“Notice what?”
“My entire album is well known classical pieces from ponies long since gone.” Vinyl titled her head towards Octavia and gave her a quizzical look from behind her shades.
“So this isn’t really your album?” she asked, secretly cocking an eyebrow.
“What? No – of course it’s my album. I played all the song on my cello.”
“But they’re not your songs!”
“So what? I fail to see what difference it makes if I wrote them or not; I play them just as well, if not better, than any other professional musician.”
“But they’ve got no passion! No soul! Where’s the love for your art? How can you possibly get into a piece that somepony else wrote? How is this album supposed to be any different from any other cello playin’ pony recording the exact same songs?”
“I…” Octavia was shocked and confused; never before had anypony, especially not some DJ that she thought was below her musical standards, told her that she wasn’t any different than any other cello player. Not even just that: Vinyl was telling her she wasn’t any different from any other pony that played classical music. She felt good playing her cello, and not once in her entire life had she given a second thought to playing another pony’s work, so long as it was free range material or she was given permission. If she took what Vinyl was shouting at her to heart, she wouldn’t just be rethinking all the music she had played and replayed today, but all the music she had ever played in her life.
“W-well what about you?” she started, trying to regain her advantage in their argument. “Isn’t DJing just mixing other ponies’ songs together?”
“Wow wow wow!” Vinyl stammered, shaking her head and waving a hoof in front of her face. “While a lot of my standard DJ sets uses other ponies’ music, I at least remix and blend in new elements – my elements; I don’t simply slap down songs and kick back while the stereos do all the work.”
“Still, what ‘soul’ is there in just throwing in some extra sounds and changing parts of the tracks around?”
“I do more than that! There’s tons of complex layering and attention to detail that you wouldn’t even begin to understand. I mean, you can’t just throw one audio track on top of another and hope that it magically sounds good!”
“That’s not what we’re talking about, Vinyl – we’re talking about completely original compositions.”
“I’ve wrote my own bucking music before!”
“How many albums?”
“Well, I-”
“Have you even finished a single album of original work?” Vinyl slowly closed her mouth and just sat there for a moment as Octavia eyed her smugly. ‘See?’ she thought triumphantly. ‘Not so easy when you’re forced to face the music, is it?’ Glancing over at the mixing table in an attempt to avoid the mare’s gaze, Vinyl continued to hide behind her shades and think. She wasn’t lying about having written her own music before, but the proud DJ had, in fact, composed only one track of her own: a track that no pony besides herself had ever heard. However, she wasn’t willing to admit this fact to the smug Octavia, but it was too late to lie about having even a full album; her silence was a dead giveaway that the cellist had been right.
“See, Vinyl?” Octavia said, breaking the unicorn’s train of thought. “It’s not so easy when somepony else points out your hypocrisy.”
“My… what?” she muttered in reply.
“Ugh… it means that you criticize other ponies based on ideals or standards that you feign having, but, in actuality, are doing the same things you’re criticizing other ponies for.”
“Uh…”
“It’s the pot calling the kettle black! You’re no better than me yet you think you have the right to criticize me.”
“Yeah, I guess doing that wouldn’t really make a lot of sense…”
“Oh, now you think so?”
“Eh, what’s done is done, right?” The unicorn lifted her head back up and wore an expression of indifference; the tension and confusion around her had all but melted away.
“Vinyl…” The cellist huffed with exasperation as she raised a hoof to stroke her temple. “You are simply-”
“Amazing? Awesome? Grand? Awe-inspiringly fantastic?!” A smile stretched across the DJ’s face. ‘At least she’s back to normal,’ Octavia thought.
“Impossible. You are, without a doubt, the strangest pony I’ve ever had to work with.”
“Strange is just another word for unique, so I’ll take that compliment, Octy!” With a groan the grey mare turned away and looked up at the clock. Once again, Vinyl had paid no attention to the time, and Octavia, being a bit of a perfectionist, had insisted on re-recording whole, lengthy songs if she felt they weren’t the best that she could have performed, causing the pair to, once again, work late into the night.
“Apparently,” she muttered, “I’m never going to get the chance to eat dinner with you around.”
“Why not?” Vinyl hummed. “Are you afraid of my table manners or something?”
“Now that you mention it: yes, yes I am. However, what I meant was that we never pay attention to the time and end up so engrossed in our work that we always seem to work late.”
“Octy, we’ve been working together for two days and you talk like we’ve been doing this for weeks.”
“W-well I… they’ve been a memorable two days, so-“
“Oh-ho-ho! So you’re saying I am an interesting pony, aren’t ya’?”
“I never said anything of the sort!” Octavia blushed, thought she wasn’t fully aware why; perhaps the idea of complimenting Vinyl made her comfortable, but at the moment she didn’t wish to waste time thinking about it. “Tragedies are memorable, but it does not make them interesting or pleasant or anything good by default!”
“Aw, now you’re calling me a tragedy? How could you say such a hurtful thing to me, Octy?” Vinyl faked a sniffle and brought her hooves up to embrace herself.
“Oh, don’t give me that. Now, quit your theatrics and shut this place down for the night.”
“Huh?” Vinyl dropped her hooves to her sides and titled her head in confusion. “Weren’t we going to go over the tracks?”
“I-It’s much too late to being going over so much music. Besides… we skipped dinner again and really should have something to eat.”
Vinyl simply shrugged and began shutting off the mixing console, slowly working her way through all of the equipment. Had she been paying more attention she would have noticed the hesitation in Octavia’s voice, but Vinyl, just happy to be done work for the night, hadn’t given it any mind. After the equipment was shut off and Octavia had vacated the live booth, the unicorn trotted out of the room humming, magically flicking the lights off and closing the door behind her.
“So,” Octavia began nervously as Vinyl walked by her, “would you care to get something to eat?” The DJ stopped humming and turned to look at the cellist, confused.
“You’re asking me to come eat with you?” she questioned sharply.
“Well, if you’d like. I just thought, seeing as I’m hungry and planning to go eat anyways, and since you seem to not have much in the way of money or even food, that you might care to accompany me for dinner.” Vinyl remained quiet for a moment, mulling over the idea. ‘I don’t want to look like a charity case,’ she thought hesitantly, ‘but she’s right: I don’t have anything back at my place, and I’m trying to make the last of my bits cover me until I get my pay from this job. I guess it couldn’t hurt to get some free food, especially if she’s straight up offering… but I don’t want her to think that I’m going to owe her anything either.’
“Alright,” she finally replied, flicking her mane and flashing a smile as she turned to the door, “I guess I should give you the chance to make it up to me for taking back your invite for drinks last night.” Octavia sighed and shook her head as she began walking towards the door as well; ‘She acts like she’s the one doing me a favour.’
“So, where we goin’, Octy? Not some place too fancy, I hope; can’t stand fancy places: too many stuffy ponies and not enough food.” With yet another sigh, Octavia began leading her guest out of the apartment building. ‘I’m choosing to spend more time outside of work with this mare?’ she asked inwardly. ‘What have I gotten myself into?’
**********
Vinyl lay sprawled across her bed while staring up at the slow-spinning ceiling fan above her. Her room was a mess, littered with take-out boxes, club and show advertisements, and a collection of other general garbage. As she lay silently in the dark, cool room, the unicorn finally took her shades off and placed them down gently next to a lamp and a partially emptied glass of water on a surprisingly clean little table beside her bed. She hadn’t given it much thought, but that glass of water had been sitting on that table, half empty, for months now; if she ever realized that, she would probably look at it with a perplexed stare and wonder if mold could grow from stale water.
‘This room’s kind of a mess,’ she thought wistfully, letting her eyes wander around her darkened room. ‘Octavia would probably faint if she ever saw this.’ The DJ’s eyes widened as she began blinking rapidly for a few second. Eventually, she relaxed and slowly turned her eyes back towards the mesmerizing rotation of the fan blades above her. ‘Why do I care what Octavia would think about my room? For the matter: why am I even thinking about her? I doubt she’d ever come over to my place – I doubt we’ll even spend time together outside of work again. Like, that dinner was sad: I spent the whole time either shoveling my face full of food I didn’t pay for or making bad jokes; Octavia kept looking like she wanted to start a conversation, but gave up on it every time she opened her mouth. Maybe I should have been a better guest… wait, who the buck cares?! She offered me that meal, and I said thank you, and there’s no rule that says I’ve got to like the ponies I work with or that they need to like me. Yeah… who the buck cares…?’ Vinyl sighed and rolled over, not bothering to pull the sheets over herself before she closed her eyes and tried to get some sleep.
*********
Sitting comfortably on her couch, Octavia sipped at some tea she had just made; she had been unable to sleep after returning from dinner with Vinyl. ‘Oh, sure, the dinner was a mess,’ she thought, ‘but I hardly think that is what’s keeping me awake.’ She sighed and looked around her: her pristine coffee table sat in front of her, shining ever so slightly; the piano she seldom played stood against the wall across from her; and her cello, her beloved cello, rested in its case off to the side of the room. The lights were turned half way down, as she was in the mood to sit in a dimly lit room, contemplating and drinking tea.
‘I mean, why in Equestria should I fret over the matter?’ she began the thought again. ‘Yes, I did sit there without making conversation like a nervous school filly but… i-it’s because I had nothing to say… right? Not like anything I talk about interests Vinyl anyways, so why bother trying to start anything? She seemed perfectly content just stuffing her face and making bad jokes… though, I guess, if I was in her place, and having not much to eat lately with practically no money… I guess I’d just be happy to be eating more than a piece of toast… maybe I should have offered her more food earlier… what am I thinking? I was a gracious host! Vinyl does nothing but mock me and complain about my music, and yet I not only looked out for her this morning, but I even took her out to dinner and paid for her meal. I did all that even though she had the gall to criticize me about not writing my own material.’ Octavia stopped and let her eyes drift longingly between her cello and piano, wondering if she was truly missing something by not composing her own works. She stared down blankly at the cup of tea between her hooves, seeing a dull reflection of her eyes in the dark orange liquid and letting out a long, sad sigh.
Totally forgot to put the A/N in when I uploaded this, so here they are:
Another chapter already? Eeyup. Didn't I just upload the first one yesterday? Eeyup... oh well, let the good times roll! So yeah, this story has just been clawing at my mind since it first popped up and I figured, hey, if I've got the will and inspiration to write more, why not?
I've got a few things I want to address about my views on Vinyl and Octavia, both as individual characters and as a ship, and how those views will influence my story, but I'm going to save those for a blog update that will go up just before chapter 3.
Until then, enjoy some more of "Scratches Across the Record"! Hopefully most everyone that's reading this is enjoying it so far (I know I can't please everyone, but I'm trying to make as many happy as possible), and give the story a thumbs up, or follow/track/favourite it if you're really liking it, and drop a comment (hopefully with some feedback) if you've got the time. :)
Scratches Across the Record
(OLD) Who do you really know?
Author's Note
The bass radiated, filling Vinyl’s room with sound and shaking practically everything as she sat on the ground, back against her bed. A furious, unkempt excuse for a mane flailed around atop of the DJ’s head, dragging her skull and neck with it. With eyes closed and teeth clamped down on her bottom lip, Vinyl violently shook everything from her shoulders up in time with the music. On a practically high note of the song, the unicorn, currently devoid of conscious thought, threw her head back with a sudden snap, followed soon after by a sharp thud.
“BUCK!” she shouted angrily, curling her chin in towards to her chest. Out of instinct, she quickly grabbed the back of her throbbing head with her hooves, though she was not sure what it was supposed to do to help the problem. As reality started flooding back to her, Vinyl opened her eyes, looking at a strange blot of red on her floor. Just as she began to put her pained mind to the task of unraveling this mystery, she noticed another drop of red fall from just below her snout. Without another thought she licked her lips to confirm her suspicion: blood, most likely from smacking her head off of the bed while biting her lower lip - an idea, which now, felt rather stupid.
Attempting to turn off the aggressive sounds assaulting her ears, Vinyl only gave herself more pain by trying to do so first with her magic, quickly opting to do it by hoof. For a while she just sat in silence, trying to quell the agony spreading through her head by doing absolutely nothing. She sat still, body lying limply against the wooden frame of her bed, her head swaying so slightly it was hardly noticeable. The blood continued to trickle ever so slowly off of her lip, gently falling to the floor beneath her to join the ever expanding blot of red.
Vinyl groaned as she finally decided to get up and do something about the pain coursing through her. With every step she took towards the door, she swore she could feel every wave of kinetic energy displacing itself through her body: bouncing up every atom of her leg, working through her torso, and, finally, dancing up into her head. Walking from her bed to her door felt as though she had been walking through a desert of stones, where the landscape blended together and swirled in front of her, completely unrelenting. When she finally made it to her door, Vinyl leaned up against the frame for a moment, shaking and breathing hard.
“Vinyl?” a muffled voice called out. With her reactions slowed down so greatly, the unicorn had barely even registered the sound of knocking at her front door. Panting and trying to move faster, Vinyl pushed herself towards the door, almost forgetting about why she had gotten up in the first place. As she found herself halfway to the door she soon realized that trying to push herself that much was a terrible idea, and knew then that she was about to pay the price for that. The pain pulsated spastically and violently throughout her entire body, a sickness overcoming her as she began to lose her balance.
“Vinyl!” the muffled voice came again, this time louder, but she was not able to tell: her senses were quickly fading as she crumpled onto the floor. As she laid there, eyelids fluttering furiously in an attempt to remain conscious, she tried her best to use what was left of her senses to understand the situation. Unfortunately, her eyelids eventually gave up, defeated, and she began to black out to the hazy sounds of a voice and metallic clicks.
**********
With an unceremonious groan, Vinyl stirred, slowly regaining consciousness.
“Hey,” a voice said softly and with much concern, “how are you doing?” Before even attempting to speak, the DJ made it her business to figure out who was talking to her. Opening her eyes as sluggishly as one can open their eyes, Vinyl looked up from her bed at a familiar face.
“Mix…” she replied, her voice barely a whisper.
“It’s okay, I’m here.” He reached out and stroked her mane softly, a soft smile stretched thinly across his face. “Now, if you can’t talk right now, don’t worry, but if you can: could you tell me what happened? When you didn’t come to your door or even shout to tell me to come in, I got worried and came in anyways to find you lying on the floor and bleeding. Luckily, it was only a little cut in your lip, but you unconscious still had me worried… what happened?” Vinyl simply stared at Mix, trying to focus on what he was saying, but as she did, a strange panic welled up inside of her, breaking the hazy stupor she had been in. Without any thought on the matter, Vinyl rolled her head into her pillow and began sobbing uncontrollably.
“Vinyl, what’s wrong?” While at first taken back by the turn of events, Mix quickly placed a hoof on Vinyl’s shoulder and brought himself closer to her. He had been with the mare through plenty of hard times, and thought he knew what it was like to see Vinyl at her lowest of lows. However, he had never seen her cry, and he sometimes assumed this was because Vinyl was disgusted by the thought of somepony balling their eyes out; she just never seemed like the crying type. This was not to say he did not believe that she never cried, but simply thought that she was probably ashamed of it.
“Why am I crying?” she asked through sobs, her voice muffled by the pillow.
“I-”
“Why am I crying?!” Mix soon realized that she was not actually asking him a question: she was angrily venting her confusion. “I don’t cry! What is there to cry about? Buck crying! I don’t have any bucking reason to cry, so why the buck am I crying?!” As she shouted, Vinyl shook her head into the pillow, furiously spreading her tears from corner to corner. Mix pulled his head back a bit as to not get caught in an unplanned head-butt, but kept a hoof on Vinyl’s shoulder, trying his best to silently comfort his friend. Without any idea why she was crying and acting like this, he felt completely powerless to help Vinyl, and could not think of anything to do for her. After sometime, she eventually stopped flailing her head and her exaggerated sobs became slow, quiet sniffles.
“Why am I crying?” she once again uttered, though much softer this time. Mix had hoped she would eventually lift her head up and actually look him in the eyes; while he had no idea how to handle the question, he desperately hoped that she would direct it to him so that he could at least try to help. Much to his dismay, however, Vinyl kept her head buried into the pillow and made no signs that she wanted him to answer her question.
After a few more minutes of agonizing silence, Mix realized that Vinyl had drifted off to sleep, her head no longer buried in the pillow so that should could breathe. He sighed and comfortingly stroked her mane.
**********
The gentle click of ceramic against wood and the wafting aroma of coffee greeted Vinyl as she awoke. She slowly explored the air with her snout, keeping her eyes closed and letting the smell sink in.
“You look ridiculous,” the familiar voice chuckled lightly.
“I bet I do,” Vinyl laughed quietly in response. She gently opened her eyes and looked up at Mix, a tired, worn out smile resting far below his sleepy eyes. As she moved her gaze down towards the cup of coffee, sitting on a small table next to him, she also noticed a plate littered with crumbs and the residue of an unknown food. For a moment she simply stared at the plate, completely perplexed as to how there could possibly be food in her apartment.
“After you fell asleep,” he began, as if answering her internal questions, “I called up a friend to have him pick up some food and coffee for me.”
“Why didn’t you just go pick that up yourself?”
“Are you kidding me? No way was I going to leave you like this.”
“Thanks, Mix,” Vinyl muttered, nuzzling her pillow and blinking slowly. Just as she began doing so, a pain spiked up in the back of her head, reminding her of the days previous events. She winced, clenching her eyes shut and rubbing at her temple with her hoof, willing the pain to subside. After a long, drawn out breath, Vinyl reopened her eyes and turned back to Mix. “So, why were you here anyways?”
“Well, I thought I’d come drop by and see how you were doing with the recording job, and just in general; I wanted to make sure you were okay,”
“Heh, I guess dropping by to find me passed out and bleeding wasn't what you were hoping for?”
“Yeah, not so much. But, you seem like you’re doing a lot better now; think you’re up to explaining how you ended up like that?”
“Eh, I guess it’s a case of being used to shaking my head to the music on stage, and less so around... wooden bed frames.”
“So you smacked your head and bit your lip as a result?” Mix shot her a disappointed and worried stare, tilting his head down slightly as he did so.
“Heh heh... yeah... sounds kinda stupid, doesn’t it?”
“Oh, for sure, but I hardly expected any less of the 'great DJ P0N3' .” He winked at her with the last line and gave a light chuckle. While giving a fake frown, Vinyl sheepishly reached her hoof out with the intention of smacking her friend, but ended up just flailing the appendage around like a drunkard.
“Get over here, so I can smack ya’ for that.” Mix chuckled and took a drink from his coffee, yawning as he set the cup back down. Curious as to just how long he had been here, Vinyl turned her head towards a clock to observe the time: 11 p.m.
“Oh...” she muttered without thinking.
“‘Oh’ what?” the reply came.
“I didn’t realize I had been out for so long. Did you really stay here the whole time?”
“Yes, Vinyl, I did.”
“Well, thanks... again.” Mix let out a sigh as he watched Vinyl sit up and begin stretching; even though he was the only pony she’d ever thank so profusely, he still knew there was practically no chance of getting her to talk about the crying episode from earlier. Deciding to leave it alone, he began another conversation.
“How are things with Octavia and the recording?” he inquired casually.
“Eh, it’s alright. I mean, it’s not very lively music, so it tends to be boring work most of the time, and Octy’s really uptight most of the time, but it does make it fun to bother her.” Mix cocked an eyebrow and grinned.
“So, you’ve given her a nickname and you pick on her? Aren’t you just the cutest?”
“Wh-what?! I-”
“Relax, Vinyl, relax - I was just kidding with you. Though, it would have been nice to hear that you had finally made a new friend after all this time.”
“What, with an uptight mare like that? Hardly; besides-”
“I’m glad to see that you’re back to yourself now, but I’ve got to say this before I leave - and I do need to leave soon - so just listen to me: It’s great that you’re doing this job without walking out on it, and I’m happy to see you cutting way back on the drinking and partying, even if it is just because of your lack of money. However, when I said you were digging yourself a hole back at the hospital, I didn’t just mean financially and professionally... you’re getting older, Vinyl, and while not having many close friends may have worked for up until now, I’m worried about what’s going to happen to you in the future. I know I say I’m always going to be there for you, but sometimes I’m on business trips, sometimes I’m just really busy, and, whether we want to think about it or not, I could die any day. I’m not telling you to go find someone else to be your backup crutch: I’m telling you that you should stop being so close minded, arrogant, and shut off from everypony.
“I’d love it if you’d really open up to me, but I’m afraid that would just make you more dependent on me than you already are. So please, Vinyl, not just for me, but for you... go out and really try to be friends with somepony; go and open up - stop being so trapped inside that ego of yours.” Mix slowly trotted towards the door, looking back at Vinyl before leaving. “I still have faith in you, whether you have it in yourself or not.”
Vinyl simply sat still on her bed, trying to take in everything that she had just heard. Before she could really put any conscious thought into the matter, her phone began ringing and she reached over to grab it.
“Hello?” she answered absent mindedly.
“Vinyl? It’s Octavia,” the voice on the other end replied, immediately causing Vinyl’s attention to return to the present.
“Oh, hey. What’s up?”
“I was just calling to see if you could come over tomorrow.”
“Uh, yeah, sure.” She paused and looked back to her clock, remembering the time. “Hey, isn’t this a bit late for you?”
“W-why ever would you suggest that it was?”
“Because you’re always complaining about how late we work when it never even gets this late.”
“Now, Vinyl, you’re talking as if we’ve been working together for much longer than we actually have.”
“I see you still can’t come up with original material, eh, Octy?” The DJ chuckled, realizing she had missed teasing Octavia after a few days of not working with her.
“Oh ha-ha, just keep making fun of the problem that both of us share.”
“Hey, I’m plenty original.”
“Yes, I’m sure they’re no other brash, oversized shade-wearing DJ ponies who don’t much care for classical music - you are clearly one of a kind.”
“Damn right I am!” There was a silence before Vinyl heard the familiar sound of the cellist’s exasperated sigh, allowing herself another chuckle.
“Anyways,” Octavia said sharply, “I do have to get going now.”
“Alright. So, I’m thinkin’ I might come by a little early tomorrow, seeing as I won’t be sleeping anymore tonight.”
“Vinyl, you... never mind. So long as it’s not before 8 a.m. then that’s fine. I’ll see you then.”
“Later.” With a click their communication ended and Vinyl set the phone down with a sigh. She slowly slid off of her bed, walking by the empty cup and plate Mix had left from his meal, and stopped to consider actually cleaning the dishes now instead of a week later. Lifting them with magic, the unicorn brought the dishes out into her small kitchen and dropped them into the sink; ‘At least I’m not just leaving them on the floor or something.’ While in her kitchen she noticed a take-out box with a note on top of it:
‘I heard you like eating. - Mix’
Vinyl chuckled as she opened up the box, realizing just how hungry she was, and dug straight in.
“Maybe...” she said quietly to herself, “maybe making another friend might be nice.”
**********
Just as Octavia finished the last pen stroke across the paper she heard a quick knocking at the door; she had just let Vinyl into the building recently, so she assumed it was her. She put the pen down and slowly walked over to the door, the slightest bit of hesitation in each of her steps. Opening the door she was greeted by the DJ’s familiar smile and purple shades (‘And without a drink in hoof, this time,’ Octavia inwardly thanked Celestia).
“Long time no see, Octy,” the DJ said as she trotted inside the apartment.
“Hardly,” Octavia replied with a small laugh, “it’s only been a few days.”
“So, what are we doing today?” Without answering Vinyl’s question, the cellist walked over to her kitchen counter and motioned to a small, rectangular piece of paper that rested there.
“Well... I’ve decided to start the album over, but I-”
“Start the album over?! Why? Did you go over the recordings and hate them? Oh Celestia... did you try to work the console and mess everything up?!”
“No- Vinyl, listen! I didn’t go over any of the recordings, I didn’t try to work the console, I’ve just decided not to use any of the work we’ve done.”
“I still don’t get why; what was the point of all that if you’re just going to give up on it?”
“Look, Vinyl, I’m not giving up on it, I’ve just decided that I...” Octavia paused and looked away from the unicorn’s gaze, almost unsure if she should continue explaining. After a few moments she took a deep breath and looked back to Vinyl. “I’ve decided that I want to write my own pieces for the album. If I want to stand out in the musical community, I cannot keep playing the same old songs again and again.” For what felt like hours to Octavia, the DJ simply looked in her direction, silent and with the emotion of her eyes completely hidden.
“A-anyways,” the cellist began, nervously, “we still spent all that time working, and you did the job you were hired to do, so it would be unjust of me to not pay you, whether I use any of the material or not. So, I wrote up the check for you already and just wanted to make sure you got it.” Vinyl walked over to the check, still silent, and looked down at the paper; although Octavia could not see it, behind the DJ’s veil of purple glass her eyes kept darting to the other pony nervously.
“So,” Vinyl said slowly, lifting her head back up, “when do you think that you’ll be getting to those original works of yours?”
“Well,” Octavia let out a mental sigh of relief, glad that Vinyl was speaking again, “I’d like to start working on them as soon as possible. In fact, I’ve already gotten a rough first draft of a piece written up.”
“I guess you won’t be needing anypony to record anything for a while then.”
“That’s right; I’m not sure when I’ll need to record again, but it definitely won’t be for at least a few weeks.”
“But you’re still going to be hiring somepony to record, right?”
“Well, of course - you don’t expect me to write all my own music and learn how to work that alien contraption in there?”
“No, I just mean... well, if you don’t have somepony else in mind-”
“Vinyl, are you asking me to hire you again?”
“Yeah, pretty much.”
“After all that happened while working with you, you’re questioning if I’d hire you again?” Vinyl felt a pang of regret hit her as the words came out of Octavia’s mouth. ‘Of course she wouldn’t want to hire you, idiot,’ she thought sadly, ‘Why’d you even bother to bring it up?’
“Yeah... I guess that’s fair,” Vinyl said aloud, picking up her check with magic and turning to head for the door.
“Vinyl,” Octavia called out, making the DJ turn back around, “I was going to say: Of course I’d hire you again.”
“Wait... what?”
“I said-”
“Yeah, yeah, I heard you, but I mean... why?!”
“Well, we’re already acquainted, have each other’s information, have work experience, and... if it weren’t for you and your loud-mouthed, uninhibited ways, I would have simply released something no more interesting than, as you put it, ‘any other cello playing pony’ would have. But, I thought you were doing that job just for the money; why would you want to come back and record more if you couldn’t stand how boring it was?”
“It’s not like one gig is going to get me back up and DJing or anything, so I do still need work where I can get it. Plus, I guess there’s really no harm in studying other styles of music; broaden my tastes and all. I’m not walking in here saying, ‘Oh Celestia, I sure do love this classical stuff now!’ , but... it can’t hurt to get to know it a bit better. You know... get to know what it’s all about and all that jazz.” It was now Octavia turn to stare at the other pony in silence; she had not expected this from Vinyl at all. She had already thought about rehiring Vinyl, more as a thank you than anything else (or so she told herself), but mostly expected her to turn the job down and just be happy to be done with the cellist’s boring music.
“I don’t play much jazz,” she finally spoke, ignoring the DJ’s frown, “but I understand what you’re saying. It’s great to hear that you’re willing to take an interest in other genres of music.” As she said those words, Vinyl felt a small flutter in her chest; she was a remained of every time Mix had said something like ‘It’s great to hear’ or ‘I’m happy to hear’ .
“And hey,” Vinyl piped up happily, “it means I get to keep poking fun at you - the best part of the job!” Octavia sighed and shook her head with a small smile, for once not unnerved at the thought of listening to the DJ take jabs at her and her music. “But, while I’m here: do you mind showing me what you’ve got so far?”
“You want to hear me play? I know you said you were going to be more open about learning, but you don’t even know the first thing about my music: what criticism or help could you ever offer me?”
“Classical Music 101, Octy: The good stuff’ll put you to sleep! If you don’t bore me at least half to death with the song, then it clearly isn’t good for those stuffy ponies you normally play for.” Vinyl merrily trotted past Octavia with a smirk and headed towards her living room - one of the only three rooms she knew in the apartment. As Octavia was not recording, Vinyl saw no reason to go the studio, and, as strange as she may have believed her to be, the DJ thought it safe to assume that the cellist probably would not give a performance in the kitchen.
“Very well,” Octavia replied, slowly following the unicorn into the living room as her voice picked up a satirical tone. “I have been convinced by your logic and persuasive skills, and shall therefore perform my music for you.” She walked over to her cello case and grabbed the music stand next to it, setting it up with the sheets of music in the centre of the room. Carefully removing her beloved cello and setting it up as she balanced on her hind legs and cradled her bow, she prepared to play. “Now, let me remind you: this is a very rough, first draft of the song, so I make no promise as to its quality.”
“Ah, c’mon!” Vinyl shouted as she flopped onto the couch. “Have some confidence!”
“I have plenty of confidence, but, unlike you, I know the difference between the right amount of confidence and being an over-confident braggart.”
“Eh, enough of that! Let the show begin!” Octavia sighed and gave another smile as she shook her head at Vinyl. Regaining her focus, the cellist lifted her bow up and dove into her first ever self-composed piece of music.
Yar, there be Author's Note ahead!
Chapter 3... FINALLY! Definitely took the longest, as I think I spent too much creative burst on the first two chapters; this isn't to say that I think this is a bad chapter, just that it took more time and I didn't have the same "I'VE GOT TO WRITE THIS NOW" energy going into it.
So yeah, character development, blahblahblah, JOURNAL REGARDING THE STORY if you didn't read it already/are not yet subscribed to the story and therefore didn't get a notification for it.
Same stuff: Thanks for reading, thumbs up/track/follow/favourite if you liked it, and leave a comment if you've got the time. :)
Scratches Across the Record
Author's Note
Octavia smiled proudly as she looked over the neat piles of sheet music that lay in front of her. While she had no idea of how long it normally took musicians to create original compositions, she felt as though she had done quite a good job over the last three weeks. The concert season how slowed down as of late, so the cellist had plenty of time to work on her new material, but this did not mean that she was without work. Unlike a normal pony’s job, Octavia got by on grand paycheck to grand paycheck the majority of the time; packing theatre after theatre kept her income quite stable despite not needing to work every day.
Though she was focusing on her original works, Octavia was still playing the work of other ponies’ at smaller venues: parties for the Manehattan elite and high class restaurants. Music was not the only activity occupying her time, however; she had recently begun spending more time with Vinyl, despite not needing her for work reasons. After she had stayed over to listen to the rough draft of Octavia’s first piece, the DJ had expressed an interest in spending more time together. The idea had originally caught the cellist off-guard, but she quickly warmed up to it; while she knew and was respected by a great many ponies, Octavia usually did very little socializing outside of work related affairs, so the opportunity was welcomed.
During their time spent together, both mares attempted to expose the other to different genres of music, with varying degrees of effectiveness: Vinyl still could not sit quietly through most orchestral or classical pieces, and Octavia continued to find it difficult to classify electronic sounds and beats as music. One day Octavia felt tired of listening to Vinyl complain about how boring she thought classical music was, so she searched through her collection in the hopes of finding something to appease the, thus far, unimpressed DJ. As a surprise to both of them, Vinyl reacted quite positively to an album of jazz that the cellist had forgotten that she owned, but was now quite grateful that she did.
“It’s the off-beat rhythm and the almost-out-of-tune sounding instruments,” Vinyl had said about the music, expressing her interest in how it gave an unstructured feel, while still being technically sound. Octavia’s delight in the DJ’s interest was short lived, however, as the unicorn began expressing a desire to try remixing jazz music; the cellist felt as though this could only mean the butchering of good music, but Vinyl would not have any of that talk. Musical tastes aside, the pair got along quite well despite their clashing personalities; Vinyl continued to tease the cellist, and Octavia kept on taking things the DJ said too literally. Their general banter and sessions of repartee continued on, having no end in sight or any real negative effect on their new friendship.
The sound of her phone ringing brought Octavia out of her thoughts and her eyes away from the sheet music. She got up and walked across the room to her phone, initially curious as to who was calling her at this hour, but then realized it was likely Vinyl: she had a habit of calling at times Octavia felt were inappropriate (though she was hardly bothered by it anymore).
“Hello?” Octavia answered, posing the word as a question just it case it was somepony else.
“Hey, Octy, it’s me,” a voiced slurred from the other end.
“Vinyl? You don’t sound too good.”
“Nah, o’ course I’m good! Never better!”
“You’re drunk, aren’t you?” While Octavia knew Vinyl could not see her, she gave her an extremely displeased look anyways.
“M-maybe... maybe just a little bit.” A hiccup followed by a giggle chimed across the phone line.
“Well, drunk or not, I assume you have a reason for calling me?”
“Oh yeah, that...”
“... so, what did you call me for, Vinyl?”
“Um... well...” There was a minute of silence, and instead of pestering her to continue, Octavia simply sighed and waited for the DJ to speak.
“I... uh... uh, no reason,” Vinyl finally said. “Yup. No reason at all.”
“No reason? Did you really just get drunk and call me for no reason?”
“I-I gotta go, see ya’, Octy!” Octavia was about to to reply when she her a wooden thud from the other end of the line. As she paused and listened, she could hear a pony, presumably Vinyl, breathing slowly, followed by a noise that sounded like a pony flopping down onto a bed or couch. Continuing to listen, in a mixture of curiosity and worry, Octavia remained quiet and waited for something else to happen. After the longest ten seconds the cellist had ever persevered through, a muffled and quiet noise started at the other end of the line, quickly growing into the clearly audible sobs of a pony with their head buried into a pillow.
“Vinyl?” Octavia spoke without hesitation or thought, acting on impulse alone. Vinyl’s confusion and panic could be heard as she attempted to stifle her tears and rapid breathing.
“Octy? Where-” she began nervously, quickly interrupted.
“You left the phone.”
“Oh... uh... I...”
“Vinyl... what’s wrong?” While she was genuinely worried about her, Octavia had to admit that this was not a scenario she had ever been in before; growing up she did not have a lot of close friends, and never before had a pony intimately confided in or broken down in front of her (even over the phone).
“I-its n-nothing.”
“Don’t give me that; you already told me there was no reason why you called me and then just started crying.”
“I don’t c-cry, what are-”
“Vinyl, you’re still crying, so-”
“No I’m not!”
“Yes you are, you stubborn little filly!”
“I’m not a filly! Filly’s aren’t even allowed to drink!”
“Uh... what does that...? N-nevermind, that’s not the point. The point is-”
“-on top of my horn!”
“Now you’re just trying to avoid the conversation!”
“M-maybe you’re the one trying to avoid something!”
“I’m not the one getting drunk and calling other ponies for ‘no reason’ just to cry about it!”
“I’m crying because of you, dumbass!”
“You’re... what?” Octavia stopped, eyes wide and all the previous anger of the argument left her body with a sharp exhale. All of her previous thoughts were replaced by the swirling confusion that dominated her mind like a mighty storm; her eyes continued to stretch open, seeing the world in front of her much clearer, despite not paying the slightest attention to it. Had there be any room left in her mind to analyze outside stimuli, Octavia would have noticed the deafening silence from Vinyl’s end of the phone.
“W-what...” Octavia began, feeling a pressure behind her eyes building. “What did I do?”
“I’m sorry I called you,” Vinyl muttered, strangely calm and without slurring her words, but with the sound of tears creeping into her voice. Before Octavia could reply, a sharp click sprang from her phone and she became aware that the connection had been cut. Desperately she tried to bring it back, calling Vinyl anxiously, but to no avail: the DJ did not answer. In an act of unprecedented impulse, the cellist gave up on calling Vinyl and bolted out of her apartment (she was paying just enough attention to remember to lock her door and take her keys, however).
She ran down the dark streets, her hooves smacked against the pavement as the city lights sent her shadow cascading across the world she streaked by. Every step she took felt like both a great leap forward and an inching shuffling backwards; time simultaneously sped up and ground to a halt as the mare ran. With all perception of time and space becoming irrelevant to her, Octavia was shocked when she suddenly found herself facing the door of Vinyl’s apartment.
‘What am I doing here?’ she asked herself, finally taking a moment to stop and think. ‘I know I should care about Vinyl, she is my friend, after all, but since when did I start dropping everything just to come rushing to see somepony? Yes, I’m curious as to... no... I’m worried about why she was crying, but galloping over here in the middle of the night? This isn’t like me at all. But... I guess, if I’m already here, I should at least make the trip worth it; best to set aside my problems for now and see what I can do for Vinyl, even if this is, somehow, my fault.’
“Vinyl,” Octavia called out as she knocked upon the door gingerly. She paused and waited for a short while, unsure if the DJ would even answer her door. The worried cellist was about to knock a second time when she heard the soft sound of hoofsteps from behind the door.
“Octy... is that you?” a tired and worn out voice asked.
“Yes, Vinyl, it’s me.”
“W-why... why are you here?”
“I was worried about you.” Octavia shuffled closer and rested her forehead against the door as she spoke. “The crying... the yelling... hanging up on me and refusing to answer when I called you back... I... I didn’t know what else I was supposed to do, especially when you said this was my fault. I-”
“It’s not your fault.” The door began to creak open and Octavia lifted her head up while taking a few small steps back. Once the wooden barrier that had been separating the two was moved aside, the cellist looked across what felt like a monumentally large distance to see the DJ just a few feet away from her. Vinyl’s mane was a mess, while the whites of her eyes were reddened and blending in with the hazy magenta of her uncovered irises, and the wet smears of tears were stained on her cheeks as she looked back at Octavia.
“It’s my fault,” Vinyl said somberly without taking her eyes off of Octavia. Slowly, the desolate looking mare turned around and walked slowly towards her bedroom, leaving the front door open as a clear invitation. Octavia hesitantly crossed the threshold and closed the door behind her quietly, quick to follow her friend thereafter. As she came to the entrance of the disastrous mess that the DJ called a room, she observed the desperate form of her friend sitting on the end of the bed, head hung low. With the resolve to ignore any thoughts about what she may be stepping on, Octavia slowly closed the distance between her and Vinyl, coming up to sit next to her on the bed. The pair sat in silence for some time before either spoke.
“So,” Octavia began nervously, “what’s this all about then?”
“If you haven’t realized it,” Vinyl murmured slowly, “I’m not the greatest at making friends.”
“You’re a little rough around the edges, but... you’re not a bad pony or anything.”
“Yeah... that’s probably what Mix would say. He told me a while back that I needed to try and make friends... at least one friend, because I shouldn’t just be relying on him. I guess I had never really thought about it before, but he was right... I do rely on him for everything: getting work, getting out of work, fixing up the mistakes I caused, and letting my drunk flank crash at his place more times than I can count. He’s a really good friend, but I realized... I don’t know why. I mean, I know he’s just a good pony because that’s who he is, but why do I deserve his friendship? I don’t do really anything in return for him, but I still constantly fall back on him.
“I was thinking about that earlier, after I got home with some drinks; I stopped drinking once I realized just how much I use him... my friend. And I thought for a moment ‘What’s wrong with me? Why do I treat my only friend like this?’ but then I remembered he’s not my only friend... at least, not anymore.” Vinyl paused and rolled her shoulders a bit, continuing to have her head hung low and looking at the floor. She let out a long, heavy sigh as Octavia sat there, completely quiet, listening intently to the lament of the DJ.
“And he told me,” she continued, “that I needed to open up to somepony. He said not him though, because I relied on him too much... but, again, he’s right. It’s not like opening up to him would normally be a bad thing, but when he was the only option and I still hadn’t in all the years I’ve known him... well, I know that’s messed up. But the thing is... I’ve never really opened up to anypony, because I’ve always said to myself: ‘Vinyl, you’ve got a good life, so anything you could be crying about are just stupid, pointless problems.’ I mean, when there were ponies who weren’t even half as successful as me, living in real shitty places with barely any money to get by on, then why are my problems important? How do my little, pointless worries and fears even deserve to be vocalized when there are so many more pressing issues in the world?” Vinyl raised a hoof to wipe away the few tears that had begun to collect above her cheek.
“Vinyl...” Octavia spoke softly, tentatively placing a hoof on her friend’s shoulder. “Everypony has problems, and just because they might not be life threatening, doesn’t mean they’re not important. I know sometimes I feel awful silly about complaining about little things like my toast being burnt, while I stand in my nice, clean apartment with luxuries that not everypony is so lucky to have. But there’s a difference between not making them a big deal, and completely ignoring them; you really shouldn’t hide all of your feelings away... but, come to think of it, I’m a tad guilty of that myself.”
“So... even if I don’t think they’re important, I should express my feelings?” Vinyl lifted her head up and looked towards Octavia as she spoke, the slightest glimmer of hope in her eyes.
“Yes, because your emotions are part of what makes you who you are, so they are always important.”
“Would you forgive me... if I told you that I lied about being drunk when I called?”
“Well, I was the one who assumed you were, so you didn’t really lie to me.” There was another moment of silence between the two as the DJ looked up at her friend and swallowed nervously. With unannounced resolution, Vinyl placed her hoof upon Octavia’s shoulder and swiftly brought her own mouth to the cellist’s without a moment of hesitation. Taken aback by the sudden turn of events, the cellist tensed up, muscles frozen as a sharp blast of air escaped her nostrils. Immediately realizing how unresponsive Octavia was, Vinyl slowly pulled back from her and let her hoof slide back to her side as she dropped her head in defeat once more. They both looked away from the other, too unsure or embarrassed to meet the other’s gaze.
“I’m sorry...” the broken voice of the DJ said after a minute of eternity. She began to shuffle uncomfortably, pulling her legs and chin into her chest, slowly turning away from Octavia and continuing to stare downwards. The cellist took a slow, shaky breath in a vain attempt to calm her nerves as she rubbed her hoof in circles on the bed sheets. As the silence stretched on between the two confused and mentally-misplaced friends, the slow drone of the fan above became increasingly more noticeable to Vinyl.
Almost forgetting that her friend was sitting a hoof away from her, Vinyl raised her head slowly, craning her neck back until she was staring straight up at the fan. It spun slowly and quietly, completely devoid of worry or care, sadness or anger, fear or misery. The fan continued to spin at its same slow, steady rate, unattached to Vinyl’s world or any of her problems. That moment, like every other before, was nothing short of ordinary to the fan; and that moment, like every other to follow after, would mean absolutely nothing to the fan. In the stark realization of this, Vinyl felt herself unable to process this revelation, a great sadness at her confusion welling up inside of her. Aware that she was no longer able to adequately cope with her emotions, the DJ made no effort in trying to stop herself as she closed her eye and let her tears spring forth. She began crying loudly as she dropped her head and collapsed her body against Octavia.
Snapped out of her anxious stupor, Octavia was startled and worried as she looked down to find Vinyl sobbing and pressed up against her. While she was still unsure of how to approach the issue of the kiss that had happened earlier, she put that aside as she wrapped her hooves around her friend and laid her head atop Vinyl’s.
“I don’t know who I am anymore,” the DJ muttered bitterly between sobs. Octavia remained silent as she slowly stroked Vinyl’s back, her eyes closed with her face buried in her friend’s messy blue mane. “I used to know exactly who I was and what I did. I was Vinyl Scratch... I was DJ P0N3... I played music for ponies... I partied... I had a good time... I never got caught up in ridiculous emotional shit... I had Mix and I never had to worry... I... I...”
“Shhhhhhhhh,” Octavia cooed as Vinyl began stammering, unable to finish her thought. “It’s okay, Vinyl.”
“How is it okay? I have no idea who I am anymore.”
“You’re Vinyl Scratch.”
“But I-”
“Just listen to me. The partying, lack of worries, and constant running from your emotions did not make you who you were. Yes... you are different now, but, at the heart of it all, you’re still Vinyl Scratch... and that’s what’s important.” Vinyl did not reply and continued to cry, though softer now, into her friend. The time passed in silence as the pair remained in their embrace, surrounded by the low drone of the fan above and the heavy, stale air of the DJ’s apartment. Neither one said anything for a great deal of time; Vinyl’s bouts of sobs eventually died down to a string of sniffles, while Octavia continued to hold her friend close and stroke her comfortingly.
“Octy...” Vinyl finally murmured, her voice no longer sombre or desperate, as she remained in her friend’s embrace.
“Yes, Vinyl?” Octavia replied warmly.
“I’m sorry I put you through all this.”
“You don’t need apologize.”
“I need to at least thank you.”
“Well, you’re welcome, but... I really didn’t do much outside of listening to you.”
“No, Octy, you did so much more than that.” Vinyl slowly sat up, turning her head towards Octavia to talk face-to-face. Her eyes were red and slightly puffy, and she wore a tired but pleasant little smile on her face. “You came rushing over here without even knowing that there was any real problem; it could have just been me being a stupid drunk, but you knew there was more to that. You sat down and talked with me because you actually cared about me. You tried to comfort me and give me hope, and even when I... even when I kissed you... you still stayed. You could have gotten up and left, or yelled at me, or... anything else... but you chose to stay here and keep comforting me. I know I don’t have a lot of past experiences to draw from, but I feel like you went above and beyond ‘just being a friend’ tonight... I’m... I’m really glad you came.”
Octavia smiled as a few tears formed on the edges of her eyes, but she ignored them and she reached forward and pulled Vinyl into a warm embrace.
“I’m really glad you called,” the cellist said as they separated from their hug. “I mean, I wasn’t happy to see you so upset, but now, looking back with the knowledge of everything you’ve told me, I realize you must really trust me.”
“Well, I’m sure you’re used to having all sorts of ponies trust you.”
“No, not really. To be honest with you: I don’t actually have a lot of friends.”
“What? You’re super popular and know all those fancy musicians and whatnot.”
“That’s true, but it doesn’t mean I’m actually good at making friends. I didn’t say anything because I thought you’d just mock me about it, but most of my peers prefer more business-like relationships; while many host large events for our peer group, practically none of those in attendance are intimately close to each other.”
“That seems kinda stupid; why invite all those ponies if you’re not even friends with most of them?”
“Well, what about you? Part of the reason that I never talked about my lack of friends was because I felt that you must have hundred of friends. If you meet so many ponies and were so popular in the DJing world, why didn’t you make friends outside of Mix?”
“I’m not really sure; I guess I just never really cared enough. I mean, most of my life has been living day to day, not having any big, long term plans. I used to think that having involved, complicated plans was just setting yourself up to be disappointed if they didn’t work; that could never happen with living in the moment, because I didn’t feel like I was ever missing out on something if there was always something else to do. I never really got invested in anything... or anypony. I guess it just didn’t seem to be worth it to me back then.”
“Heh, it seems we’re more alike than we thought.”
“Haha, I guess you’re right, Octy.” Vinyl let out a yawn and stretched, realizing how tired and worn out she felt. In response, Octavia lifted a hoof to cover her mouth as she yawned as well, partly out of exhaustion and partly because the DJ just had.
“Hm, it’s gotten pretty late,” Vinyl muttered, staring lazily at her clock.
“Late is an understatement,” the cellist chuckled sheepishly. “I’ve been here so long it’s practically early .”
“Well, you’re welcome to stay here the night.” Octavia was about to decline her friend’s offer when she realized that she was likely to pass out if she tried to walk back to her apartment.
“I guess, if it’s either that or risk my chances on the streets of Manehattan... well, the streets are cleaner than your apartment.” Playful, Vinyl reached out a hoof and gave her friend a little shove.
“Look at you: joking - I never thought I’d see the day.”
“Ah, it appears you’re rubbing off on me; I better distance myself from you, before I start losing all of my manners and forget about basic hygiene.”
“You have learnt well, young grasshopper.” Vinyl clasped her hooves together and bowed her head towards the chuckling cellist. “But, jokes aside, I’ve only got this bed, so I hope you don’t have a problem sleeping next to me.”
“So long as there isn’t any more funny business.” The DJ dropped her smile for a moment and looked away. Quick to correct herself, Octavia reached a hoof out and placed it on her friend’s shoulder. “I will take it seriously, and we’ll talk about it tomorrow... alright?”
“Alright, yeah, sorry,” Vinyl replied, smiling back. “We’re both a little sleep deprived as is, so best to put off serious topics until later.”
“Agreed. Now, let’s get to sleep before I collapse and fall off your bed.”
“Ah, I knew it: you do want to be in my bed!”
“Hush, you!” The pair’s laughter lighten the room as the dim light of the room was finally replaced by a serene darkness.
A/N:
Ah man, so that only took me... oh... a little over 3 weeks? Maybe it was because I time-skipped so much for this one. : Don't right a "X Years Later" epilogue. :P
Anyways, hopefully this was worth the wait. While this took the longest, I'm hesitant to call it the best chapter thus far, but, I do believe it has the most to it, and I'm fairly happy with how it turned out. The story is really starting to be something now, instead of just watching little snips of these ponies lives (but, don't get me wrong, I adore Slice of Life, but there needs to be something else as well).
I also realize that you might still be thinking: "Wait, but Vinyl said she was crying because of Octavia, didn't see? It doesn't really look like you explored that - what gives?" If you're thinking that, don't worry, I'm not going to just leave things like that completely unanswered; this chapter simply moved in it's own direction, and it felt more natural to let the explanation come when the characters want them to, and not when I want them to (if that makes any sense to anyone).
Once again, thanks for reading, and drop a comment if you're so inclined. :) (I haven't gotten any criticism yet, and while I'm not happily awaiting my first thumbs down or not 100% positive comment, I know they've got to come eventually, and I would just be happy to get some constructive criticism.)
Scratches Across the Record
Author's Note
Vinyl awoke with a loud yawn,stretching out her limbs before rolling over to face the ceiling. For a moment she stared up at the familiar fan above her, forgetting that she was not alone.
“Ah, you’re up,” Octavia said cheerfully, standing at the door. The DJ's eyes snapped over to the cellist; seeing her friend she gave a sleep addled smile.
“Been up for long?” she asked, yawning once more.
“Just long enough to realize you haven’t got a lot in the way of food.”
The DJ scratched her head. “Yeah, haven’t been out to shop in a bit.”
“We’ll fix that later. Now, get up and clean yourself up so we can go get something to eat.”
“Yes, ‘mom’ ,” Vinyl teased with a stupid grin as she pushed herself off of the bed. Octavia shook her head as the messy mare walked by her and towards the washroom, allowing herself a small chuckle. While she waited for her, Octavia walked over and sat down on Vinyl’s bed; as she sat there, she began to think about last night. ‘How am I going to bring up the subject?’ she questioned herself. ‘I’ve never had to discuss something like this before... what’s the polite way to approach it? It is proper of me to just say “So, Vinyl, about that kiss”? What if she doesn’t want to talk about it - do I just let it go? Oooooooh, what if I don’t want to talk about it? I guess that wouldn’t be fair, as I already said I’d take it seriously... but... but what if I’m not supposed to take it seriously? Should I be trying to laugh it off with her? Oh Celestia... I’m so confused.’
During her thinking, Vinyl trotted out of the washroom, her mane sleek and styled. “Alright, Octy, where we goin’?” Octavia was quick to make herself look proper and not give off any sense of confusion as she stood up and walked towards the door. As she did, the DJ stepped back into her room for a moment, grabbing her signature shades and promptly donning them.
“You can choose,” the cellist replied casually, “so long as it’s respectable and not a bar.”
“Octy! Do you really think of me as such a drunk?”
“Do I really need to answer that?” Octavia raised an eyebrow as she said this, opening up the door and allowing Vinyl to exit first.
“Alright, alright. How ‘bout pancakes? Pancakes are nice, even without booze.”
“‘Even without booze’ ?” Her brow furrowed in confusion. “Do you normally eat your pancakes with a beer?”
The DJ stopped in her tracks. “Well, I-”
“Nevermind. Pancakes it is then; there’s a little diner just down the street, correct?” The pair trotted out of the apartment building and quickly onto the bustling Manehattan street. All sorts of ponies walked by, all involved in their own lives, going to and leaving from all across the city; carts whizzed by on the streets, the clattering of wheels mixing with the constant sound of hoofbeats around them. The city was alive today.
A pair of small glass doors were pushed open by Vinyl, allowing the two to enter into the quaint little diner. There were only two other ponies in the room, sitting at the table furthest to the left, so Octavia suggested the table furthest to the right. They took their seats and were promptly met by a waiter who pleasantly took their orders and left for the kitchen.
Octavia let out a long sigh, deciding that maybe now was a good time to stop overthinking everything. “S-should we talk about last night?” she asked nervously.
“Uh... yeah,” Vinyl replied hesitantly, “I guess we should.”
“R-right then. Well... I...” The cellist stopped and thought for a moment, realizing she had no idea what she ought to say at the moment; if she was being honest with herself, she did not even know what she wanted to say.
Vinyl cleared her throat. “Look, I’m the one that kissed you, so it should be me explaining things, not you.”
“Alright.” She gave a small nod and receded into silence.
“Remember when I said I was crying because of you?” Octavia nodded again. “Well, even though it wasn’t your fault, I sorta made it your fault in my head... at the time. I already explained how I normally stay away from all this emotional stuff, so I guess it was me not knowing how to deal with these thoughts and feelings. See... it’s just that you make me feel-” Her mouth clamped shut swiftly as she caught sight of the waiter out of the corner of her eye; Octavia looked over to see the stallion levitating their meals over to them.
Once the food was set down and the waiter had left, the pair shifted their collective gaze between each other and the food, unsure of how the other wanted to proceed. “Best to not let it get cold,” Octavia finally suggested. “You can always hold that thought for a little while.” Vinyl nodded in agreement and the two set to partaking in their breakfasts. The silence stretched on between them as they finished their meals without a word, and, much to the relief of both of them, no more ponies had come in to sit within earshot of them.
“You can continue now,” Octavia said, dabbing her lips with a napkin, “if you’d like.”
A silence hung at the end of the cellists statement as Vinyl spent a few seconds fixed on the mare’s lips. “Uh, yeah,” she finally replied, shaking her head a little and making an effort to look her friend in the eyes. “I... um, where was I again?”
“I believe it was something about how I make you feel.”
“Right.” The DJ closed her eyes and took a breath. “You make me feel... weird.”
Octavia narrowed her eyes in confusion. “‘Weird’ ? What-”
“L-let me finish.” Vinyl’s abruptness made the cellist silence herself instantly. “You make me feel a way I don’t remember ever feeling before; I called it weird because I don’t really get it. I said I blamed you over the phone ‘cause it was you making me feel this way, and since I'm normally so sure of myself, but couldn’t explain this... I blamed it on somepony else...” She paused and looked away for a moment. “I blamed it on you.”
The air was silent and still for a moment, but that was quickly broken by the laughter of the other two ponies as they left the building. After a small cough from the pony across from her, Vinyl cleared her throat and continued.“Now, I’m not actually saying it’s your fault; it’s not like you set out to make me feel like this. Hell, I’m sure you didn’t even have a clue about any of this, so the only thing you’re really at fault for is being you, and I’d be an idiot to blame you for being you. No... this was me... being... not so me... I guess.”
Octavia rubbed her hooves together nervously. “Well, it’s good to know that you don’t blame me, even though I do feel a bit guilty for being at the centre of your worries...” Her eyes widened and she waved a hoof frantically in front of her face. “Not that I’m so egotistical to assume that I’m the centre of your thoughts! I-I just mean I’m in the centre of this issue... just this issue.” There was a pause before the DJ gave a light chuckle and rubbed the back of her head.
“Actually,” she replied hesitantly, “I may have been thinkin’ about you more than a bit.”
The cellist’s cheeks reddened slightly. “You’ve been thinking about me that much?”
“Well, not just about you; I’ve been thinkin’ about us hanging out, and how it’s kinda fun, even though we spend a lot of time doin’ very little. I mean, do you remember when we first came here?” Octavia took a moment to think back.
“But I’m not even hungry,” Vinyl moaned as she grudgingly followed the cellist into the diner.
Octavia shook her and looked for a table. “Have you never just gone out for coffee before?”
“Well, have you ever been to a rave before?”
“What does he even have to do with this?” She shook her head again and led the DJ to an empty table. Once they sat down Octavia ordered them some coffee and a pastry, with a name Vinyl could not even pronounce, for herself.
“So,” the DJ’s lack of interest in her surrounding clear from her voice, “what do we do here?”
“Are you serious?” Vinyl shrugged as the cellist sighed and raised a hoof to her face. “We have coffee and talk.”
“That’s all?”
“Yes.”
“Well that’s boring.” The strength of Octavia’s gaze broke past the DJ’s shades and she hesitantly submitted. “So, uh... how ‘bout that weather?” Vinyl smiled awkwardly as the mare across from her dropped her head with a heavy sigh.
“Tell me about your work,” Octavia suggested, trying to salvage the conversation.
“Well, you know, I DJ and work clubs mostly.”
“What’s that like, DJing?”
“Eh, you wouldn’t like it: it’s all thrills, chills, and excitement.” The air around Vinyl became electric as she raised her hooves above her shoulders and looked upward. “It’s about the heat and action - the energy rushing through your body as the bass booms around you.”
The cellist gave a flick of her mane and dispelled the electricity. “No, I would not enjoy being hot and sweaty as I go deaf.”
“Buzzkill...” the DJ grumbled defeatedly. Their orders arrived and Octavia seized the moment to take the conversation in her direction.
“Playing cello performances,” she said thoughtfully, “now that is exciting; the thrill of the bow gliding along the strings, making beautiful, enchanting sounds, and the look on the faces of awestruck and inspired ponies around you... it gives me such a warm feeling.” Octavia found herself smiling blissfully and looking off into the distance, similar to how Vinyl had been behaving; realizing this, she cleared her throat and brushed her mane aside with her hoof, trying to look more presentable.
“Well, that’s a shock,” the DJ chuckled, “and here I thought you were a stone-cold bore; I guess even ponies like you have something that makes ‘em happy.”
“Yes, Vinyl, even normal, reasonable ponies can be happy and enjoy themselves, just not in the way more... ‘eccentric’ ponies, like you, do.”
The DJ shrugged. “So, do ‘normal’ ponies enjoy sitting around and doing nothing but drinking coffee and talking?”
“Usually.”
Vinyl gave a small smile. “I guess it’s not too boring.”
The cellist return to the present. “Yes, it wasn’t quite what either of us were expecting, but it was a nice start.”
“Exactly!” Vinyl happily agreed. “If you had told me last last month that I’d enjoy sitting down in a quiet place and talking with a classical cello player, I’d have thought you were nuts; spending time on things I wouldn’t normally like is so much better when it’s with you.”
“I have to admit, it’s been really nice spending time with you as well.” Octavia smiled warmly and a little red returned to her cheeks. “Maybe it’s just because I’ve been rather lonely lately, but, as much as it surprised me, I’ve really been enjoying your company.”
The DJ gave a sly smile and tilted her head. “How ‘bout we go to your place and you can try to convince me that classical music is good?”
“Oh, an invitation to bore you: how could I possibly refuse?”
**********
The pair entered the cellist's apartment and made their way to the living room; Octavia went to her record collection as Vinyl walked unusually calmly into the room.
“Any thoughts on what you’d like to hear?” the cellist asked as she eyed her collection. “And no: ‘not boring’ is not as an option.”
There was no pause or hesitation in the DJ’s reply: “Something soft.” After taking a moment to make sure she had heard correctly, Octavia carefully took out one her favourite records: a beautiful, light violin piece that always made her feel happy and warm. She walked over to her record player and gently placed it inside, turning it on and allowing the soothing noise of the violin to fill the room. Once she felt thoroughly engulfed in the music, she turned around, expecting to find Vinyl pretending to sleep on the couch. Instead, Octavia turned around to find her friend right in front of her, with the DJ’s signature shades nowhere to be seen, allowing the pair to look right into each other’s eyes.
The music continued to fill the room as the two stood in silence and looked at each other. After some time, Vinyl reached a hoof out and placed it upon her friend’s shoulder; she made no immediate follow-up action, and simply continued to look into the cellist’s eyes with an unwavering gaze. As time stretched on and the DJ took no new action, Octavia began to feel a strange anticipation building up inside of her, knowing what could very possibly occur next... and she wanted it. She hesitantly pushed her head a little towards Vinyl, her heartbeat beginning to quicken as her lips quivered and she tried desperately to control her breathing.
Vinyl blinked slowly, moving her eyes and changing her gaze in such a subtle way most ponies would never notice the difference, but Octavia saw it, and she heard what it was saying: ‘Yes, now come here’. She began to move closer and closer to the DJ, inching her head forward nervously; the wait quickly became unbearable and the two mares instantly found their mouths meeting.
They pulled closer together, their lips locked as they breathed heavily against each other’s fur; Vinyl moved her hoof up and drew it around the back of Octavia’s neck, rubbing small circles as they kissed. The moment carried on until the end of the song, and the pair slowed down and hesitantly pulled apart from one another. Silence reigned above and below the heavy, yet soft, breathing that both mare’s took part in; they both eventually caught their respective breaths, but remained quiet. After a length of silence and lack of eye contact, Vinyl finally raised her eyes back to Octavia.
“Put another one on,” she said, anticipation clinging to every word. As the cellist eagerly trotted over to her collect, the DJ followed, placing a hoof on her shoulder just as a new record was chosen. “Wait... do you have a player in your room?”
Octavia bit her quivering lip and stared at Vinyl. “Yes.” All concept of caution and doubt had fled the cellist’s mind; it was no longer a time for thought as she quickly made her way to her bedroom with the record and excited DJ in tow. With a disregard for grace and careful application Octavia usually reserved for serious matters, the cellist loaded the record and instantly played it; she quickly wheeled around and found her lips crashing against the DJ’s once more.
They kissed hungrily as Vinyl led Octavia towards the bed; the cellist suddenly found herself on her back, their kiss ended with the panting DJ above her. Dropping her body against Octavia’s, Vinyl moved her mouth to the cellist’s neck, breathing heavily upon it before running her tongue along it sensuously from the collarbone to the base of the ear. She nibbled on the ear, changing Octavia’s heavy breaths into sharp gasps and quiet moans; after a few moments Vinyl lifted her head back up and looked into the cellist’s eyes.
“I hope you put on a long record,” she cooed, rolling her bottom lip under her teeth.
Octavia placed her hooves on the DJ’s back and pulled her face in closer. “I put on an entire symphony.”
**********
“W-what did you say?” Vinyl stammered. There was only silence as she stared at the back of the cellist sitting on the other side of the bed.
“You should go,” Octavia finally replied, keeping her back turned. An apprehensive hoof reached out to her shoulder, but she pushed it away and curled closer to herself. “I said you should go, Vinyl.”
The DJ’s eyes were wide and screaming with confusion. “But why? Did I-”
“Just go!” Both Octavia and Vinyl were shocked by the intensity of her words, but they carried out their purpose, and the defeated DJ lifted herself off of the bed and walked towards the door. She cast a forlorn gaze back to the cellist, trying to think of something to say, but no words came. Eventually, she gave up, turning and leaving the apartment with her head hung low.
The slow click of the front door closing gave Octavia a moment to stop holding her breath, but she refused to let it go; the tension inside of her was scratching at every fibre of her being, and she was afraid if she opened her mouth she would lose all her breath. Finally, and with a mixture of hesitation and relief, she let out a heavy sigh and fell back upon her bed. As she began to collect herself, Octavia was reminded of the music playing; the lengthy record she had put on, to play for her and Vinyl’s intimacy, was still going strong, unaffected by the emotions that tumbled around the cellist.
“Why?” she asked aloud. “Why did I allow this to happen? I can’t say I didn’t want it... but... I...” Octavia curled up, pulling a pillow into her body and trying to only allow a few tears escape. “S-she... she knew I was lonely... and she has that energy and that commanding personality. I... what was I supposed to do? Say no? I should have, but.. Celestia knows... I wanted it. I was weak... I allowed myself to be taken in by her... by those eyes... that voice... that touch ... how could have I resisted? But... I’m acting like it was all her fault; I allowed this to happen... I didn’t fight back... I... I encouraged her... I went along with it.
“Am I blaming her or myself? Can I really act like she took advantage of me when I wanted it? But... but she knew I wanted it; she knew I was lonely and that this would be new to me... she’s the kind of pony that must just be able to sense these things. So... who’s to blame? I let it happen... but only because she was trying to do it... if she weren’t around... if Vinyl and I hadn’t gotten close like this... I would have never been in this situation. Maybe this is why I should have just kept things like they were:work and music acquaintances... and that’s it. No getting involved in things that could lead me to making idiotic choices or getting me hurt; things like this never happened before I knew Vinyl, so... so she has to be the problem. Everything... everything was clear to me before that stupid mare and her unnatural behaviour came trotting into my life.”
The air became still as Octavia stopped talking aloud, allowing the music to gain control of the room; it played on, oblivious to the cellist’s tears, filling the room with soft, beautiful melodies. The pillow became naught but a scrunched up ball as Octavia curled around it tighter, shutting her eyes and sighing.
**********
As if the sky meant to hide the DJ’s tears, rain had begun pouring just as Vinyl stepped out onto the streets. Despite the hour, the sky was unreasonably dark, creating a dismal backdrop for the tearful pony; she trudged on slowly, paying no attention to anything besides the sound of her hoofsteps and the rain; she allowed herself to become completely drenched without even the slightest care. Time was muddle in this lethargic state, and she soon found herself staring up at the unusually dull building she called home.
Once she was inside her own apartment, Vinyl made her way to her bed and collapsed upon in, a heap of limbs upon a heap of sheets.
“What happened?” she muttered into the sheets that had quickly become as wet as her. “I thought everything was good? She didn’t tense up like last time... she kissed me back. She seemed to be enjoying it, and even took me to her room... I didn’t even push it on her. I made her gasp and moan... I was doing right... wasn’t I? I really thought she was enjoying it... but... but then why did she make me leave?” The DJ stretched out, sprawling herself across the bed and staring across the room with reddened and teary eyes.
“She said she enjoyed my company... but... she made me leave. Why would she want me to leave... didn’t she like it? She likes me... doesn’t she? But... w-what if... what if she regrets it; she probably feels ashamed of what she’s done... of me. Octavia’s... ashamed of me; she probably regrets ever kissing me back. I bet she sitting at home thinking about how bad she’d look if anyone ever knew... she probably hates herself for... no... she hates me; she hates me for forcing her into that... oh Celestia... I forced her, didn’t I? I mean, she went along with it, but probably just because she was lonely and not thinking; Octavia’s normally so smart and proper... I must really be some piece of work to mess her up like that. It’s... it’s all my fault that she’s sitting back there beating herself up and hating me. But... I deserve it... she... she should hate me... even...” Vinyl brought her legs closer and curled up, entangling herself in the wet blanket.
“Even if I love her.”
A/N:
Yes, yes, I apologize for taking a whole bloody month on this, but I still wrote it so... please forgive me?
Anywhooooooooooooooooooo, this was definitely an interesting/exciting/melodramatic chapter for me, and I'm quite happy with the results. The ending (well, end-ish-middle to end) was actually quite different from what I originally planned, but that's because a good friend of mine suggested a vague description of the plot to follow after the first kiss that was actually much better and less generic/boring than what I originally had (I was all like "herp derp NOW FALL IN LOVE", because... well, DAMMIT I just want ponies to be in love... is that too much to ask for?).
Anywho times two (rhyming :D), I'm starting to get back into doing art and writing more regularly now, and because me and my friend are finally getting seriously into our graphic novel (yes, yours truly is working on an original, and totally awesome, graphic novel that will sure to be GREAT), I'm really going to be in more of a "work-work-work" mode (though, work-work-work to me is only almost as much as a normal person should be working).
Anyways, going to wrap this up before it gets too boring for you:
Thanks for sticking with me through the long wait, and I'll try not to take so long next time, I promise! Thanks for reading, everyone. :)
