Clashing Symphonies

Cello cases are heavy.

This was the foundation for my whole line of logic as I walked along the the lush gardens of the university campus. It was a simple idea, but my analytical mind could not refrain from calculating out velocities and trajectories. While the idea had come to fruition multiple times before, it was, mostly, a harmless means of venting my frustrations. Holding myself over with mere visions of directed wrath resulting in carnage, rather than attempt such barbaric acts in reality, that admittedly, would end fruitlessly.

Despite my inner storm, the campus grounds where at a state of utter serenity. The birds chirped their melodies, while the wind made the grass whistle a muted song of nature’s calm. The sun shone proudly over an impressive display of floral beauty and constructed elegance, as ponies everywhere smiled, laughed, and enjoyed the simple privilege of being alive.

I wanted to set fire to it all.

I tried again to banish the ill emotions, but yet again, I failed. A year ago I would have never sucomed to such feelings, but that was before I had to stay in close proximity to the utterly corrupting force I had to call my room mate.

Some more moments of walking and I finally came apon my favorite spot; a small outer table isolated from everypony, save for my incredibly small echelon of two.

A minty green, lean, and all too smiley pony who slouched in her seat, grinning like she was in on a joke that others were simply too slow to catch onto.

Adjacent to her sat a thicker, cream colored mare with hair the hue of purple and pink candy wrappers, who was welcoming me with a warm look.

Lyra Heartstrings, and BonBon, my lifelong friends converted to my bastions of sanity.

I trounced over, barely resisting my urges to break proper etiquette and slouch over out of exhaustion in my now proclaimed seat. But a loud, unlady like sigh still escaped me.

“Oh dear, I know that scowl and sigh.” Started BonBon, emanating motherly concern through her voice.

“The ‘Ivory Menace’ raising your blood pressure again?” Lyra said, not even trying to hide the laugh in her voice.

“Lyra, BonBon,” I said, keeping my voice low and leveled “do you mind if I vent for a little while?”

“Like you could keep it in even if we said no-- Ow!” BonBon promptly elbowed Lyra.

“Of course you can vent to us, we’re always here to listen.” BonBon reassured me.

Breathe in, breathe out. I let it all flow from within me.

“Vinyl is taking her antics to a completely new level. I had assumed she could do no worse when she started blasting her music to startle me, or had continued drawing crude pictures on my blank sheets. I don’t even want to speak about the incident with the leaf blower and the turtle again. But now she's prancing around our room half naked in her underwear like a total buffoon, hosting parties at late hours with her obscene friends, up to only the stars know what, partaking in all manner of reprehensible acts. She’s even devoting more time to deliberately target me for her harassment!”

“Yeesh, calm down Octavia, your accent is slipping again.” Lyra cut in.

It was true, I was breathing heavily from self inspired exertion. My rapid words were meshing together with my clipped Canterlot accent that I was still stubbornly trying to subdue.

“I’m sorry…” I said after devoting some effort to calming myself, returning my voice to a whisper. “It’s just... Vinyl drives me to states of complete disdain.”

“Don't we know it. It’s at least a few times every week now that you come boiling over, reporting something else she’s done to mess with you.” Lyra chuckled, she enjoyed my strife, as per usual. But not so much that she failed to dodge the incoming elbow from BonBon. “I’m surprised the guards haven't carted you off for trying to pummel the mare.”

“Not from any small lack of effort, mind you.” I huffed. “The girl simply moves too fast, I dont even get the luxury of having natural earth pony strength over her.”

“How about we try working through your problems,” said BonBon. “And getting solutions to them. Ones that don't involve violence...”

Lyra was about to respond, but BonBon interjected. “...Or pranks…”

Lyras face twisted up in thought, she appeared to have stumbled upon a solution, before BonBon shot it down. “...Or sexual acts.”

That gave ample cause for me to stare down Lyra.

“Hey, all I’m saying is that I haven't heard of many personal disputes that couldn't be solved with a good romping.” Lyra raised her hands in front of her, as if that would protect her from the potential beating she was swiftly earning her way to.

“Let’s start somewhere simple…” BonBon said with a look aimed at lyra even more dangerous than mine. “These parties she’s hosting, couldn't you report them to the staff to bring an end to them?”

“Ha, negative on that one,” Lyra chimed. “Not unless you want to explain to Princess Luna herself why her newly dubbed favorite party spot got canceled.”

“Seriously? She has Royalty attending her little soirees?” I asked.

“The pony knows how to have a good time; something you could learn from her.”

“Well what about the half-nudity? And the teasing? I’m sure she only means it in good fun, she would probably stop if you sat down and seriously talked to her about it.” said BonBon.

I scoffed. “Do you honestly think that I have not attempted diplomacy over the time I have spent with Vinyl?”

“Well, your first response to anything that annoys you is to hit it with your cello case.” Lyra said.

“Your second response is often to set it on fire.” BonBon added as well.

“There is no documented evidence of me ever doing such things!” I defended myself, voice raising louder than I would have prefered it to be. Though not consciously aware if I meant the case swinging, or the fire starting

“My point being that any negotiations with Vinyl Scratch have ended with only a head ache, and further need for anger management classes being gained.”

“Well, this is a crazy idea, so stay with me here… Have you ever thought about, I dunno, moving out?” Lyra said with sarcasm laden in almost every word.

“I can’t.” I groaned

“Why not?” BonBon inquired.

“Because, this is all a game to her. If I get up and leave, she gets the satisfaction of having influenced my actions to such an extent. It would be a major victory for her. She knows it, I know it, and she knows that I know it. She garners a perverse pleasure in toying with me. Celestial Sisters know why…”

“Well, you are quite entertaining to watch when you're angry, you're like a one pony train wreck.” Lyra snickered.

Even BonBon wasn't rushing to my defense on this one. “True, and then there is that thing you do with your voice, how your accent becomes more pronounced the madder you get.”

“My Canterlot accent should have absolutely zero bearing on my treatment involving matters such as personal boundaries!” My words came out polished, clean, and acute, an air of haughtiness flavoring my pronouncement of every syllable, along with my rage. Only further proving their point.

“Yeah, exactly like that. It’s pretty interesting to listen too. It’s like having a Trottingham dictionary get angry at you and start talking.” Lyra giggled.

BonBon was chuckling as well, but at least had the good sense to elbow her partner to sedate my infuriation.

Lyra started talking again, fingers held up to count off a list.“So you won’t leave, can’t report her, and you aren't even willing to resort to actual arson-”

“Despite her pushing me to have legitimate cause for it.” I cut in

“And both talking too, and/or trying to hit her doesn't work. So that leaves you with complaining and groaning to us every week to gain some false sense of calm, so you can go back to your room yet again, and start the cycle of suffering all over again.” Said Lyra.

“Thank you for your quite elegant way of summarizing it, Lyra.” I growled.

“It’s what I do.” She said, kicking back in her chair.

“Well, this is all quite problematic, and I have only one other idea that could even possibly help.” said BonBon.

I raised my eyebrows at that. I could hear her choosing her every word carefully, as if she was preparing to request that I go up and toss rotten apples at Celestia’s face. I said nothing, and waited for her to continue onward.

“She seems to like messing with you because you react. I know this is pretty corny, but if you pretended not to care, or even more, pretended to enjoy it, she might stop.”

Might as well bring along manure to throw along with those apples.

“That’s a horrible idea,” Lyra whined. “Nobody ever falls for that, at least not unless you do it from the start, She already knows how to push your buttons, pretending that you don't care will just be more amusing for her.”

For once, I could say that Lyra was being the voice of reason, not a form of authority she earns often, if at all.

“What you need to do is start pushing back. The way I see it, you’ve been playing mental pacifist for a year. Sure you swing around that cello case of yours time from time, but she’ll just dodge that, and laugh at you all the while.”

I flinched, because I could actually hear Vinyl’s sardonic laugh echoing in my ears.

“You have to start playing her game. Getting to her, and giving mental blow for blow back at her. Find out what she dislikes and what buttons to press, start fighting dirty.”

BonBon shot a look that said ‘Lyra, I love you, but you are such a idiot.’

Lyra returned it with a look that said ‘But I’m your idiot, and I love you too.’

I sat there with a look that said. ‘I’ve known you two for far too long, and I’m starting to question the rationale of our friendship.’

“I don't think Lyra’s idea is a good one,” BonBon was the one to break the silence “It would only escalate the situation, it wouldn't fix anything.”

“Well duh, This situation is far past fixing. At this point, the best you can hope for is too fight the good fight, and try to enjoy what ever victories you can get.”

“Pardon?” I couldn't help but blurt.

“Listen Ta-... Octavia. With the Universe’s sense of humor, you're probably going to end up stuck with Vinyl for the next three years of your life. You're only going to get angrier if you don't do anything. Sure, the pranks and jabs at each other are only going to get worse, but at least you’ll be giving some of your own licks. Nothing lamer than going down without a struggle.”

“That almost makes sense, in a stupid macho sort of way.” responded BonBon.

“Can’t be macho if you're a mare.” Lyra said.

“You find a way. But seriously Octavia, think this over before you try to turn this into a full blown war. Vinyl had a reputation before she even came into this school, albeit not a bad one, but a crazy party mare is more likely to have some tricks up her sleeve than a posh and polished aristocrat. No offense.” Bonbon gave a weak smile.

“All offense taken.” I deadpanned. “However, Lyra has a point; my patience has long been past gone. It’s time I retaliated, even if I have to lower myself to a level less than what I am…” I blinked, realising far too late what I had said “I-I’m sorry, I didnt mean to infer that-”

“Save it girl.” Lyra said. “We know what you meant, no harm done.” she waved, as if to clear the air of my wretched statement.

“We know you're not the same mare you once were, you’ve changed.” BonBon told me.

My voice wilted as a lump took its place in my throat, but I managed enough will to speak anyways. “Thank you…”

“No problem, now if you excuse us, me and BonBon here need to bump uglies.” Lyra got up and said with a smile.

“We have a project to do.” BonBon said with a edge to her voice.

“Yeah, you and me alone to ourselves in a room, you can bet bagels to bits that the project won’t be the only thing to get ‘done’.” Lyra said, thrusting her hips through the air.

BonBon tried to look stern and disapproving, but a smile cracked through her facade in seconds.

I rolled my eyes, lacking any appropriate words. I had already spent them long before, and Lyra was not the kind to care for such objections.

They waved me goodbye and made their way, leaving me to sit here, mulling over my new option presented before me.

I had to do something completely new to me, which was to play along with Vinyl’s twisted tune. Her own little song of madness that she had personally held reign to probably since she got her cutie mark. The gentle breeze that had previously made the grass beneath me hum songs of peaceful relaxation had turned into a subtle foreboding tone for events to come. As if the clouds themselves were trying to hint at what lay ahead, but telling me nothing more than that I wouldn't necessarily like it.

But I was quite finished playing emotional toy to a demented, ivory unicorn who had the good fortune to move faster than a speeding cello case. It was time I put my own spin unto this crazed song, and turn it into a duet.

Vinyl will get her dues, for transgressions old and new.

…

Just as soon as I figured out exactly how to get under her skin.