Chapters Movement One: Serendipitous Misfortune
The bar was exceedingly busy, which - on a cold Friday night in this part of Manehattan - was unsurprising. As per usual, the cold, grey streets outside offered little appeal to most, causing ponies from nearby to gather in their dozens inside the establishment. While it was technically a dive bar, it wasn’t an unpleasant place to be. Indeed, compared to the numerous cesspits in Manehattan that managed to qualify as bars, it was a palace. Every table was occupied, and there were many more ponies simply standing idly about the place, making navigation of the crowds a skill in itself.
A glass filled with a mixture of whisky and cola rested on a sturdy table in one of the darker corners of the bar. The drink belonged to a refined, cultured mare who had, above all else, an overwhelming desire to slip into a coma. In her mind, thoughts - hundreds of the pesky blighters - fumbled and tripped over one another, each sulking owing to lack of attention. Some were more valid than others, most involved homicide, and almost all of them pertained to a single event a few weeks prior, as well as the infernal wretch who’d incited it.
Octavia Melody looked around the crowded building for the umpteenth time in her time there that evening, though she had no idea why. She’d been there for long enough to have seen just about every detail, up to and including the somewhat humorous messages carved into her table. Her ears were filled with the gentle yet loud hubbub of chatter, interspersed with an occasional laugh. Everypony there was happy, it seemed. Everypony seemed to be enjoying their present company and their drinks. Uproarious laughter would occasionally rise from a small group somewhere among the masses of ponies in the bar.
An ashen hoof reached for the vessel resting on the table and in a single, fluid motion raised it to the lips of a haggard face. Octavia threw her head back, allowing the sweet liquid to flow down her throat and polishing off the remains of her drink, before slamming the glass back onto the polished wooden surface.
The glass managed to hold Octavia’s attention for a few moments. Reflected in it were her normally piercing violet eyes, now dulled and weary; her normally lustrous and well kept mane of black coal, now unkempt and forlorn; and a dishevelled pink bowtie. Snorting her derision at the pitiful visage reflected in the glass, Octavia swept the container from the table and sent it flying into the air. It hit the laminate flooring a short distance away and shattered, sending a couple of ponies diving to avoid any shrapnel. Grumbles began to arise from their direction, but Octavia didn’t really care. Nopony could tell where the glass had come from; it wasn’t her problem. Her table now clear, she rested her hooves upon it, and her head upon them.
******
The streets were unsettlingly quiet, which - on a cold Friday night in this part of Manehattan - was unsurprising. As per usual, the warm, bright taverns and similar, sometimes shadier establishments offered great appeal to most. While it was technically a perfectly ordinary and reasonably maintained street, it was a singularly unpleasant place to be. Indeed, a cold, dark street is never a good place to be, but when wet from cold rain and tears, the icy gusts commonly found in the city in the autumn are wont to seem tangible as they slice through anypony unfortunate enough to be in their way.
A blue pair of headphones, almost perpetually bound to their owner, rested upon a slumped neck. They belonged to a vibrant, fun-loving mare who had, above all else, an overwhelming desire to slip into a coma. In her mind, thoughts - hundreds of the damned things - kicked and punched one another, each actively pummeling another for attention. Some were more useful than others, most concerned ways to survive the cold night ahead, and almost all of them were caused by a single event a few hours prior, as well as the lazily scrawled notice which had caused it.
A magical pale blue tendril reached for a saddlebag resting on its owners back and - in several uncertain fumbling movements - located and extracted a small faux leather coinpurse. Vinyl Scratch yanked the string off, stared into the brown purse, then dumped it back into the saddlebag. A puddle on the pavement a short distance ahead of the DJ held her attention for a few moments. Reflected in it were her purple shades which revealed nothing of the teary, despondent eyes behind them, and her normally wild, uncontrollable mane which had - wettened by rainfall - fallen heavily over her face. Shaking her head at the puddle, Vinyl trudged onward.
Having checked her purse, she knew she wouldn’t have enough bits for a hotel room, or a train ticket home to her brother’s place in Ponyville. The only friend she knew well enough to crash with was Pinkie Pie, but she was renting a room from the Cakes and was therefore, like her brother, in Ponyville.
Vinyl kicked a discarded bottle lying forgotten in the street. It flew down the road and hit the pavement outside a nearby bar, shattering and throwing shards of glass across the road. Nopony noticed; the miserable weather had driven them all indoors. The bottle had landed outside what looked to be a fairly busy bar, with a glowing blue neon sign:
"Blue's Tavern"
Maybe a drink’ll keep me warm tonight.
Vinyl had only a few bits left. Enough for a drink or two, but very little else; not even some food. Drawing closer to the establishment’s entrance, she could hear the dull roar of conversation inside. Using her magic, she pushed open the door, then released it once she’d got through, allowing it to swing shut.
The tavern was incredibly crowded, full of ponies chatting, drinking, and trying not to fall over, but fortunately Vinyl knew nightlife. She knew it exceedingly well, in fact. With deft hooves, she beelined for the bar, ducking in and out of, weaving around and occasionally pushing past groups of dazed drinkers. Calmly, she stepped up to the bar and placed an order of-
Damn, when did vodka get so expensive?!
Seeing the prices, she had no choice but to half-heartedly order the bar’s cheapest beer. It was of an appalling quality - total swill, in fact - and Vinyl knew it, but if it improved her odds of surviving the cold night ahead then it was welcome. She reached out to the glass using her horn and placed a bit on the bar before beginning to search for an empty table. There didn’t seem to be any at first, but then something caught her eye. Vinyl began to make her way towards a darkened corner of the room and the table which occupied it. On closer inspection, there was another pony there; a grey mare with an expression which was hidden because it was buried in her hooves. Deciding that she had no further options, Vinyl sat silently opposite the worn-down looking pony. There was nothing on the table, peculiarly, save one coaster pushed to the side of the table.
Vinyl observed the mare she was sharing a table with. She hadn’t noticed Vinyl’s presence on account of having her head firmly in her hooves. A pink bowtie implied class, but its current state also indicated its wearer had bigger woes than her appearance. A straight yet messy black mane implied the same thing.
She looks kinda cute...
Whoa. What the hell was that?
The only sign Vinyl saw that the pony had been drinking was the water-ring left by a glass, though where the glass was now, Vinyl couldn’t guess. She suspected it was being cleaned.
The unicorn sat a short while, sipping her beer occasionally and wincing almost every time.
******
“I am sorry, Miss Melody, but just what were you thinking?” The insufferable Prince Blueblood had stood before her, in all his self-absorbed glory, and had just finished a psychotic rant the likes of which Equestria hadn’t seen since one of Blueblood’s servants steeped his tea for five minutes instead of eight and a half.
“All I did was do what you paid me to do!” Octavia had retorted, feeling her temperature rise alongside an almost uncontrollable urge to swing her cello into the noble’s smug face.
“And you thought such an uncouth song for fillies would fit an event as prestigious as the Grand Galloping Gala?”
“It wasn’t my fault! You got what you asked for ! ”
“At no point did we ask for an entire evening to be ruined by your bumbling incompetence as a cellist, Miss Melody,” Blueblood had said, in his trademark smug manner. That was all she could take. A seething ball of white hot rage had risen from her stomach. She’d picked up her cello and slung it onto her back. Seeing nothing nearby heavy enough to use as a weapon, she’d turned about.
“How dare you turn away from me when I, Prince Blueblood, nephew to Celestia, Regent of the Unicorns, am speaking to you? Know your place, peasant!” Those were the last words Blueblood said for a fair few hours, because at that point, Octavia had bucked and sent her hind hooves hurtling into the pompous buffoon’s face. He’d hit the ground with a heavy thud, and Octavia had left the deserted Entrance Hall to Canterlot Castle. With a little luck, the Guard would think he’d been trampled in the stampede which followed the tumult earlier that evening. Octavia sighed and swallowed hard.
“Looks like I’m done here,” she’d said aloud, to nopony in particular.
Octavia reflected on just how she’d come to be in her predicament. She’d been replaying the same conversation on a loop for a while now, desperately trying to find something, anything, that was even remotely reasonable about it. If she hadn’t assaulted the Unicorn Regent, things might be different; perhaps she could have salvaged the situation. But while the guards had assumed Blueblood was trampled, and drawn a rather vulgar aspect of a stallion’s anatomy on his back while he was passed out, Blueblood still kicked up a storm the next day. The story had reached the ears of every noble in Canterlot and beyond by that evening, but fortunately, Octavia was long gone by then.
Finding the entire situation to be quite horribly unfair, Octavia kicked herself internally as she heard a quiet sob escape from between her lips, bringing with it more hot tears of regret which rolled down her face.
******
It was a quiet, reserved sob, as would be expected from a mare of class and sophistication who had been taught not to show too much emotion in public, but that didn’t make it any less heartbreaking. Vinyl hated seeing ponies cry. It somehow made her feel guilty, though she had no idea why. The guilty knot in her stomach only served to worsen the hunger pangs. It was not long before the stranger broke down into a hysterical fit of sorrow. Vinyl felt a stabbing pain in her chest, and it took all of about thirty seconds for her to cave.
“Uh, are you okay?” Vinyl asked. A moment passed with no response, but the stranger controlled her despondent outburst and began to look slowly upwards from where her hooves rested on the table.
******
“Do I look ‘okay’ to you? I am s itting alone in a crowded bar in a major city sobbing into my own damn hooves! Which part of that says ‘okay’?! I recently made the single biggest mistake I have ever made in my entire damn life! Why, why is it too much to ask to drink myself into a depression induced stupor and forget about all of my problems?! ” was the verbal tirade which, for a moment, Octavia considered unleashing upon the uninvited stranger who’d taken it upon herself to sit opposite her. But she simply didn’t have the energy.
“I am fine, thank you,” was all she could manage to say.
Even from that short phrase, Vinyl picked up on the rich lilt of her accent; the sort one would find among the elite of Canterlot; Though, what that accent was doing in a place like this was beyond her. “Are you sure? You don’t look fine to me,” Vinyl replied.
“It is not your problem, okay?! I have no issue with you sitting there, but if you insist upon doing so, all I ask is that you do so without pestering me! Leave me alone!” Octavia snapped, a mighty blaze burning in her eyes. Suddenly, the soft lilt Vinyl had noticed previously became a sharp, scathing blade. Instead of coming up with a retort or trying to get into the stranger’s head, though, Vinyl decided it was best to just do what the mare had suggested. She looked at her beer, took a sip, then fought the urge to spit it out. A few moments passed of an awkward silence - bar the noise of raucous patrons - between the two mares, Vinyl staring awkwardly into her glass, and Octavia staring at her.
The crowds of patrons continued drinking, talking, laughing, and occasionally singing in the way only drunken ponies can. Staring at the newcomer, however, meant Octavia was able to gauge her far better.
She has been crying. Despite the purple shades covering the unicorn’s eyes, twin streaks of matted fur were plainly visible from beneath the glasses.Rain does not fall like that. The headphones - flecked with raindrops - around her neck made it obvious that she was a fan of music, and her mane was sodden and flat; she’d definitely been out in the rain. You horrible pony! You just yelled at a mare who’s been crying in the rain and s till tried to help you!
Feeling guilty for having snapped at a mare who obviously had problems of her own which she - like Octavia - had probably come to the bar to forget, Octavia forced her cracking voice to break the tense silence between the two;
“I am sorry, I don’t know what came over me; I know you were just trying to help. I suppose things have been rougher than I thought.”
“Don’t worry ‘bout it; wasn’t any of my business anyway,” Vinyl replied tersely, desperately trying - and horribly failing - to disguise the dejection in her voice.
“No; that was truly vile of me. I should not have snapped like that at you. I can be so standoffish at times; you, a total stranger, just tried to comfort me despite the fact that you have clearly got problems of your own, and I could do no more than yell at you for it. I am such a socially awkward dullard at times, I truly am,” Octavia explained. Vinyl may have not known what “standoffish” or “dullard” meant, but something she did notice was the emphasis the ashen stranger had placed on the word “clearly”, and she had no idea why it was there.
“What do you mean,” she mustered the best Octavia impression she could, “‘Clearly’ ? What about me says I have problems?”
“Okay, first, that impression of me is a tragedy on par with Shakespur’s ‘Titus Andalusian,’” Octavia began, playfully, “and second, practically nothing. Except the tear-streaks on your face, the fact your mane and fur are both sodden, and the fact that that means you’d been crying in the rain shortly before entering this establishment, so presumably, you’d come here to drink yourself into a stupor. Alone. Like me,” Octavia concluded, matter-of-factly. Vinyl was blown away, and were it not for her shades, Octavia would have seen her eyes visibly widen and been amused to no end by the fact.
“Buck,” Vinyl said quietly, taken aback, “how’d you do that? You’re like Sherclop Holmes!”
Octavia chortled demurely, “Call it a… knack, for judging ponies,” came the cryptic reply. Octavia swung her hind legs over the side of the booth’s chair upon which she sat, and stood. “Look, I feel awful for having yelled at you like I did. You are clearly a nice pony. So, how about I buy you a drink, Miss-” it suddenly dawned on Octavia; she had no idea who in all Equestria this mare was.
“Vinyl. Vinyl Scratch.”
“Octavia Melody,” she gestured to herself with a hoof. She then extended it to the unicorn whose name she finally knew, and to her utter chagrin , Vinyl did not shake it. Instead, she went for the hoof-bump. Octavia bit her tongue at the faux-pas which Vinyl hadn’t even picked up on, and mustered every iota of discipline she had to not recoil in abject horror and run for the door at such an uncouth gesture, typically reserved for the common echelons of-
Wait. I am not in Canterlot anymore. This is the norm here. I am one of the common ponyfolk now. Ye gods, how the mighty have fallen.
Quickly, Octavia recovered from her train of thought. “So, what are you drinking?”
Vinyl hated the idea that somepony was spending their hard-earned bits on her, but she had come for a drink to take the edge off of the sharper winds that would come her way that night, and the swill which she’d bought herself must’ve had a proof roughly equal to that of a crabapple on a stick. It certainly tasted like one. As much as she disliked it, Vinyl found herself ill-inclined to object. “Uh… I guess I’ll have a vodka and cola, please,” she began, before finishing bashfully with, “... if that’s alright with you, at least.”
“Sure,” Octavia replied, turning to fetch their orders with a smile.
Hate to see you leave, love to watch you go, Octavia, Vinyl thought as she watched her newfound friend walk to the bar.
Movement Two: Drowning Sorrows
Separating the crowds which had accumulated around the bar, Octavia strolled over to her new acquaintance. She had been there for a longer time than she’d have liked, but most of that time was spent at the back of the crowd, desperately trying to ask the pony in front of her to move. Ponies were, however, generally courteous enough to stand aside when they saw her with a tray of drinks.
Perhaps I might be able to make friends in this city after all… she mused to herself as she walked, before a slightly more bitter part of her psyche added,
Celestia knows you will need them, Octavia. She resolved to throw that particular part of her mind into the East River. With a millstone tied to its rear hooves.
Octavia placed the tray she’d been carrying onto the table and returned to her seat. Looking across the table, she noticed Vinyl sat with her head in her hooves. She took her own glass from the tray, but Vinyl hadn’t mirrored her as she’d expected.
“Thanks,” she murmured dejectedly as she lifted it to her lips with her magic. She took a large sip, and placed it back on the table.
“Vinyl, are you feeling alright? You seemed to… space out for a little there.”
“What? Nothing’s wrong, don’t worry about it.”
“I might be able to help you, Vinyl. We might have just met, but I would be happy to help you.”
“I don’t think it’s something you can help with, Octavia.”
“So there is a problem, then?”
“Yes. But I don’t wanna talk about it.”
Normally, Octavia would have given up by now. But by this point in the night, she’d had several more drinks than would allow her better judgement to prevent her from doing so. Placing her front hooves on the table, she pushed herself upwards to extend herself over the table. With her best puppy-dog eyes and her most seductive eyelash flutter, she made one last-ditch attempt;
“Pretty please?” she asked, making sure to drag out the ‘please’ for as long as was possible, ending the request with her best pout for good measure.
******
“Pretty please?”
Vinyl’s heart melted. The way Octavia’s violet eyes glinted in the lighting of the bar contrasted stunningly with the ashen grey of her coat. Vinyl couldn’t move. The way Octavia’s glossy black mane draped over the table and the fluttering of her eyelashes sent Vinyl’s heart into spasmodic palpitations. She pouted at the end, and by then Vinyl couldn’t fathom her thoughts into an intelligible sentence. Octavia cocked her head slightly, waiting eagerly for Vinyl’s response.
Holy crap.
“U-u-uh…” was all Vinyl managed to stammer in front of the spectacle that was a tipsy Octavia. “Oh, ponyfeathers. Fine, I’ll tell you. But you better be ready for a really long story, Octavia. Don’t whine to me when you’re bored by the end,” Vinyl eventually managed, after stabilising her heart rate and finding a way to make her thoughts come out of her mouth. Octavia had sat back in her seat, but hadn’t stopped giving Vinyl the puppy-dog eyes until she caved. Now she simply smiled calmly.
“Go on, Vinyl,” she said, putting her hooves together in front of her.
“Well…” Vinyl began, “I’m a DJ. From Ponyville, by birth, but my folks moved there from Baltimare before I was born. I got my cutie mark when I put together my first mix. A fashion designer in town - named Rarity, I think-”
“Rarity?” Octavia interjected,
“Uh, yeah, why?”
“Why? WHY?! Rarity is only the best fashion designer in all of Equestria! She is incredibly underrated, but she’s an absolute genius ! Why, I’ve heard she can turn anything into a spectacular outfit in only a day ! And you’ve met her?!”
“Well, yeah, but it was only so I could play a gig at her fashion show. That was my break.” Octavia simply stared, open-mouthed. Vinyl took this as a sign to continue.
“Anyway, I played a few gigs in Ponyville, the occasional rave in a barn at Sweet Apple Acres, an actual party here and there. But Ponyville’s not a big city. A small one at best, maybe, but not much in the way of nightlife. So I decided to go for it, to try and make my way in a real city. Canterlot was too expensive-”
“Canterlot? DJs in Canterlot?” Octavia said, sitting forward in her seat.
“Well, yeah. Where there’s culture, there’s counter-culture. Rebels, punks, ravers, whatever you call ‘em. The raves in Canterlot are legendary. They say even Princess Luna turns up to ‘em sometimes!” Vinyl said, throwing her front legs in the air; the first time she’d displayed any energy that night.
"Oh, that, I cannot believe," Octavia chuckled incredulously.
“Yeah? Well, sit down and get ready for a history lesson, filly; when you’re a DJ like me, you gotta know how things started. Back in the old days, they used to have these late night sermons to worship Princess Luna. There’d always be a dance after, and sometimes Luna would stop by. Word is, she always used to enjoy the dances afterwards more than the sermons. The raves we have these days are related to that; when Luna was banished, and a little while before, the religious bit was dropped, and they became late-night parties. That’s what raves are these days, and that’s why Luna goes to ‘em whenever she can.” Octavia simply stared once more, open mouthed.
Not as dumb as I look, huh? I might not know much, Octavia, but I do know raves.
Vinyl once more took Octavia’s stunned silence as a cue to go on. “Like I said, Canterlot was too expensive. So I came to Manehattan. I managed to get a pretty decent apartment and pay some of the rent with the money I saved in Ponyville, but it didn’t take long for that to run out. A couple months, all told.
“Eventually, I had to delay rental payments. I knew I’d get evicted eventually after my first delayed payment, so I got a storage unit. Paid enough bits to keep my stuff there for a few months; I figured that’d be long enough for me to gather money for a train ticket back home once I got evicted. And that’s where I’m at now. No money, sat in a bar with a total stranger, drinking on money she’s spent on me that I didn’t earn,” Vinyl concluded, fighting back tears which threatened to pour from her eyes.
******
"And that’s where I’m at now. No money, sat in a bar with a total stranger, drinking on money she’s spent on me that I didn’t earn,”
It was all so sad. Vinyl seemed so pleasant to be around, yet she was soon to be out on the streets. Octavia may not have been able to find work, but well… At least she could still keep a roof over her head.
“Well, you showed me yours. I guess I’ll show you mine,” Octavia said. Vinyl raised her right eyebrow, slightly lowering her shades. “Not like that, Vinyl! I meant that I’ll tell you why I am here. Did you hear about the Gala a short time ago in Canterlot?” Octavia asked.
“The total disaster when a bunch of forest animals stormed a ballroom that got trashed by falling pillarsh?” Vinyl asked, stifling a laugh.
Did she slur that last word? What a lightweight.
“Yes, well, we - that is, my quartet and I - were asked to play the requests of the party-goers. A certain party guest requested the ‘Pony Pokey,’ which went down just about as well as can be expected among a crowd of the Canterlot elite. Blueblood was not happy. So now I am utterly blacklisted among anypony who is anypony in Canterlot. I’m an out of work cellist, and I’m currently questioning my entire life.”
At this, Vinyl burst into shameless laughter; “Nice job shtickin’ it to the mare, Octavia! That disashter was all over Equestria!”
“Hm, yes, well… That wasn’t precisely my intent,” Octavia began, feeling a shade or two of red rush to her cheeks, “We were asked to do requests, after all, I mean, surely it is that slimeball’s fault if he can’t regulate his gue-”
“Octy, I’m yankin’ your chain. Calm down,” Vinyl said with a chuckle, placating the ranting mare with a hoof on the shoulder, after missing the first time.
Octy?
“Oh. Of course,” Octavia said. Even embarrassed as she was, though, she felt ill inclined to begrudge the mare her laughter.
It certainly does seem as though she could use a laugh after the day she has had, at least. She is much more of a lightweight than I would have thought, though.
She reached for her glass to drink from it. She raised it to her lips, only to realise that it was empty. A quick glance across the table told her the same could be said for the glass of her companion.
How peculiar, I didn’t realise we had drunk that already.
“It appears we’ve drunk our glasses dry, Vinyl. The same again, I presume?”
“If I di’n’t know any better, Octy,” Vinyl said, wobbling slightly, “I’d say you was try’n’a get me drunk.”
Octavia chuckled demurely, and went to stand, staggering slightly as she did.
Perhaps that’s enough for tonight.
"Um, Vinyl?”
“Yeah?”
“Tonight has been delightful, it truly has. Not to put too fine of a point on it, though, but you’re rather sloshed, and I’m a little tipsy. We probably ought to call it a night, don’t you agree?” Octavia said.
Vinyl’s face fell, but she quickly recovered; “Oh, yeah, sure! Thanksh for the drinks, though, I really ‘preciate it.”
“It was nothing, Vinyl, truly. Tonight was rather more pleasant than I might have expected, all thanks to you. I hope we meet again, even in spite of your financial worries. Have you got a pen?”
“Uh, maybe, lemme look in my bag,” Vinyl answered, fumbling through her bag. “Ah-hah! Got it,” Vinyl exclaimed in triumph, levitating the requested stationery to Octavia.
“Thank you, Vinyl,” Octavia said, taking the pen in her mouth and scrawling something on the back of the coaster on the table. “This is my address. Come by sometime, we can have another drink. I‘ll pay, of course,” she said, sliding the coaster across the table.
Vinyl took the coaster in her magic and placed it carefully into her saddlebag. She stood up, and staggered into a nearby table. She caught her hoof on a stool next to it, and fell, hitting the ground with a thump.
“Crap! Vinyl, are you okay?” Octavia asked, panicked, as she rushed to her friend’s side. Vinyl pushed herself up on her front hooves and stood.
“Yeah, I’m fine, ‘Tavi,” Vinyl mumbled, wobbling a little.
"Are you sure you will be alright to find someplace to stay alone?"
“Filly, please, I’ll be fine.”
“Alright then; I’ll go and pay the tab. It has been a great night though, Vinyl. Come find me whenever you want to catch up,” Octavia said as she turned toward the bar.
Vinyl raised a hoof as Octavia turned, then turned to leave. She walked across the taproom, no longer able to nimbly dodge between the dazed crowds. Instead, she fumbled and wobbled past. Eventually reaching the exit, she pulled open the door and left the warm interior of the bar, staggering outside into the cold, windy streets of the Manehattan night.
Buck. Now what? Where to go?
From across the street, she spotted an alleyway. It was still dark, and still cold, but at least it was sheltered. Seeing no other option, she crossed the road and went into the alley. All was silent, save the sound of Vinyl’s own hooves against the concrete beneath. Water dripped from above - likely from a damaged gutter. Gingerly stepping past a vaguely square silhouette of something, Vinyl arrived at a fork in the alley. She stopped for a short while.
Storage unit.
Her drunken mind had come up with an answer. She’d rented a storage unit, she could crash there! With newfound resolve, she turned right and walked forward. At the end of the alley she’d turned down, street lamps were visible. She continued on, never stopping. Her destination was on the other side of town, and she needed to get there. Vinyl reached the street and continued down another alley nearby. Perhaps things weren’t going to be so bad.
Movement Three: Grim Revelations
Another night, another dreamless slumber. Vinyl sat up from the crude makeshift sleeping mat she’d cobbled together over the two weeks or so prior using anything remotely warm, soft, or fluffy that was to be found in the small storage locker. She blinked the sleep from her eyes, and in her half-dazed state could only fathom a single thought;
Oh, buck, it’s cold!
She tried to nestle under her covers a little further, desperately trying to warm up. As secure and well-lit as the locker might have been, the bare concrete blocks that formed the walls didn’t allow for much in the way of insulation, and neither did the flat concrete roof. As she attempted to retreat into a nonexistent haven of warmth beneath her covers, her mind began to wander.
First, it went somewhere comfortable; home. She thought of Ponyville, that quaint little town where everypony knew everypony else. Of course, it wasn’t a little town. It was quite sizeable, as towns go, but the culture of the earth ponies - the significance of family and roots - was heavily ingrained, giving the impression of a far smaller settlement. She thought of her old house and her brother, Longplay, whom she’d left behind when she came to Manehattan. And she thought of Pinkie Pie; her best friend, who she had also left behind in Ponyville. Suddenly, Vinyl felt very empty. She missed home, and her stomach churned, though she couldn’t tell whether it was from hunger or homesickness.
Next, her mind began to paint a picture of what should have happened once she’d arrived in Manehattan. She should have been able to keep her apartment. She should have been able to live like a normal pony for a few months, maybe a couple of years. She should have then been discovered and finally been able to make a name and living as a professional DJ and music producer. This brought her to a simple conclusion.
My brain can be a real jerk.
Finally, her mind forced her to stop daydreaming and leave the covers, which of course meant unintentionally looking at her surroundings again. The locker was dark, illuminated only by cracks in the wall. Even so, Vinyl knew the locker was cramped because of her belongings. Vinyl closed her eyes and looked up. She channelled her magical energies into one particular spot on the ceiling and cast a glowing orb onto it, flooding the small room with a serene pale blue light.
The light allowed her to see her shades lying on the concrete beside her makeshift bed. She reached out mentally and levitated the shades onto her face; they helped to block out the unwelcoming interior of the locker. She then looked at the clock on the floor which had previously rested on her bedside table;
09:30? Ugh. Time to find a job, I guess. Because that’s worked before, right?
Enveloping the locker’s door in a blue aura, she threw it open and bathed the cold room in sunlight. As she stepped out and closed the door, she threw her saddlebag upon her back and extinguished the light she’d created earlier. As the door closed, she resealed it with her magic using a locking spell her brother had taught her. He’d also taught her how to bypass it, naturally. Sighing, Vinyl began to trudge into the town centre.
******
As the ornate clock on the wall struck five, a pair of hooves slammed into the wooden desk.
“How?! How in all the world is it even remotely possible that nopony wants a cellist? There’s probably a garden party per day in Canterlot and yet I am to believe that there is not a single pony looking for a cellist?” asked an indignant Octavia, visibly flustered and with loose hairs sticking out of her mane at every conceivable angle, and foul-tempered after a day-long staring contest with her phone, which she’d lost.
The brown stallion behind the desk stepped backwards and lowered his gaze, his half-moon spectacles sliding slightly down his muzzle as he did so.
“W-well, M-miss Melody, I don’t really think it’s that nopony is looking for a cellist, m-more so that anypony who doesn’t yet have a full band would rather not have you there,” the fear-stricken stallion stammered to his infuriated client. Octavia’s left eye twitched.
“WHAT?!” Octavia yelled, slamming her hoof into the wooden desk, causing the poor stallion behind it to recoil in shock. Octavia felt as though she might burst.
Of all the things to kill one’s career, assaulting a pompous noble? Infuriating! It’s not like everypony else wasn’t thinking about doing it!
“Y-you do have a rather terrifying strength, Ms. Melody, and a temper to boot - you assaulted a regen-” Octavia’s agent stopped talking. He could have sworn he could see something in her snap. Octavia had gone deathly silent; her amethyst eyes burning with the fury of a raging forest fire. She fixed her baleful glare upon the stallion opposite her, feeling an inexplicable urge to inflict unimaginable pain upon the herald of her career’s demise. Fortunately, Octavia’s good sense was still in control, and it managed to convince her that beating a stallion to death would probably be a poor decision - though it did concede that it would certainly be enjoyable. No, another assault certainly wouldn’t help her cause. Instead, Octavia swallowed her rage and forced it down, turning to walk away.
An audible sigh of relief came from the poor agent behind the desk as Octavia stormed out of the office, down the stairs, and out onto the street. Thoughts raced through her mind, not a single one of them coherent, as she walked down the crowded thoroughfare.
She made a right down an alleyway and cursed Blueblood’s name with every step she took until she found a convenient dumpster; convenient because it made the perfect target upon which to unleash her fury. There was a loud metallic thud as her rear hooves slammed into it, and she screamed her rage to the skies. Tears began to roll from her eyes and suddenly, she felt the strength drain from her. Feeling that she could no longer stand, she sat and stared downcast at the floor beneath her, allowing the tears to stream from her face now onto the dirty concrete.
******
Vinyl had been walking for several hours, and to her it felt like an eternity. It was hot in the city - a last hurrah of the dying summer - and she hadn’t eaten a proper meal in a fortnight. Instead, she’d been subsisting on scraps and whatever she could take without anypony noticing. She trudged down a thoroughfare that, even in the evening, was relatively busy, with pedestrians and carriages travelling up and down it. The last time she’d seen a clock, it had been around five.
At least I’ve lost weight, the part of her mind that enjoyed black humour said. That part was then promptly beaten up by the rest of her mind, because the truth of the matter was that simply walking was proving to be a feat of enormous strength. She’d gazed into the windows of countless establishments by this point hoping to see something that would hint at an available job, but to no avail. She could feel the heat radiating from the stone below her hooves, her throat was dry and it felt as though her brain was about to actually burst out of her skull. As she walked, she kept her mind occupied by contemplating the events of the past fortnight, if only to help ignore the feeling of sickness mixed with hunger in her stomach.
Since the encounter with Octavia at Blue’s, very little had changed in Vinyl’s life. Every day, she’d ventured to the city in an attempt to find a job; anything, as long as it was enough to get her a train home. But nopony wanted to pay her for just a day so she could go home. More than once, she’d considered other ways to get money, all of them shameful and of varying degrees of legality. She stopped outside an office building, she sighed.
I could really use a drink right about now.
Vinyl’s mind drifted back to Blue’s again, taking the thought of a drink as its cue.
Wait. What was it Octavia said?
“ This is my address. Come by sometime, we can have another drink. I‘ll pay, of course,”
It would be nice to see her again.
And with that, Vinyl decided. Even though it meant another wound to her pride in that Octavia would once again be paying for her to drink, Vinyl summoned the energy to reach for the clasp on her saddlebags. Her head still splitting - and the magic worsening the pain - she fumbled around her bag with a pale blue tendril until she felt a small square of cork near the bottom, which she reached for mentally and pulled from the bag, along with the city map she’d acquired shortly after moving to Manehattan, searching for the street Octavia had written. She found it, then got her bearings from the plaque on the office building, which had the address written on it. Apparently, it was a talent agency, and the street she was on wasn’t too far from Octavia’s apartment. Vinyl thanked Celestia for that small mercy. She turned - perhaps too quickly - and her head began to spin.
Whoa. Maybe turning a little slower would have been better.
After regaining her balance, the feeling in her stomach worsened. But she paid it no mind. At last, she had a destination. A goal. And she was going to reach it. She began to trudge to the nearby alleyway through a stream of ponies walking down the street, and turned down it, passing a dumpster before following the alleyway left. Another dizzy spell as she turned caused her to lose her footing and stumble into a building to her side. Her vision went blurry.
What’s happening?!
Fear spurred her onwards; she turned right, panting as she walked from both fear and exertion. But then she slowed, and her vision blurred even further. Even in spite of this, she could see the carriages and ponies on the street at the end of the alley, all going about their own lives, rushing in all directions. She felt as though she were about to throw up, and colour began to fade. She was going to pass out; she could feel it. A stack of cardboard boxes wasn’t far from her. Her legs were unstable and she was stumbling like a deer fawn that wasn’t yet sure how to walk, but she continued. Then she faltered and swayed a little too far, losing her balance. She landed in the cardboard with a flump, but that didn’t matter anymore. Her vision had already faded to black.
******
The tears had stopped a while ago now; Octavia had simply sat in the alley sobbing when they dried up. She looked up from the ground slowly. Shakily, she got to her hooves. Her head felt heavy and her head ached from the crying.
I want to go home. I think I have alcohol somewhere. Alcohol is always good.
She slowly continued homewards down the snaking alleyway. She rounded a corner. Then she stopped dead in her tracks.
Oh sweet Celestia...
Movement Four: Fortuitous Eventualities
“Is Vinyl going to be alright, doctor?”
Octavia had been pacing nervously ever since she’d managed - with the help of a friendly cabbie - to haul Vinyl back to her apartment and call for help. By the time the doctor had arrived, she’d been almost frantic with worry.
Using his magic to adjust his tweed jacket a slight, he turned to the panicking mare after a quick examination of the dishevelled-looking Vinyl who had been unceremoniously dropped onto the sofa.
“You’ve nothing to worry about, Ms. Melody; it’s nothing serious.”
“Do you have any idea of what the problem is?”
“Well, based on a quick examination, she’s obviously malnourished. But that’s not what’s caused her to faint. No, it’s not advanced that far yet,” the beige unicorn began, before resting his muzzle on his hoof pensively for a few moments. “Based on the weather today, though, I’m willing to bet that it’s heatstroke that caused her to pass out. No way to know for sure, of course. The sooner we treat her, the better; we don’t know how long she’s been unconscious.”
“And how do we go about doing that?” Octavia asked nervously, desperately trying to remember which medicines she had on hoof.
“Fortunately, it’s a simple treatment. We just need to cool her off and allow her to come back to consciousness on her own terms. Have you got a bathtub?”
“Cold water?” Octavia queried, trying to consider how else one might cool down in a bathtub.
The doctor nodded. “Go run the bath, I’ll stay here in case she wakes up.”
Glad to at last be able to do something, Octavia rushed from the living room of her apartment into the hallway, and entered the first door on the right. Her hooves clicked on the pristine tiled floor as she went to the far end of the bathtub and twisted both sides of the mixer tap, balancing the hot and cold and testing the temperature of both the pooled water in the bath and the tap’s output periodically with her hoof.
“It’s ready!” she shouted out to the doctor in the living room.
But how do we get Vinyl in the bath if she is unconscious?
“Wonderful! Make sure the bathroom door is open wide, Ms. Melody!” came the doctor’s reply.
What? Why does the door need to be open wide?
“Uh, doctor, is that not unsafe?”
“Not if I keep her perfectly still when I lift her,” he grunted back. Levitating Vinyl over the tub, the doctor began to gently lower her in. Once she was safely laid in the water, the doctor let go. Her shades appeared to have been adjusted to their proper location. .
“There we are. That should have her back to consciousness in a short while, but until she’s lucid again, I’d advise that you stay with her.”
******
Huh? Music? Vinyl thought to herself.
The dulcet tones of a cello reverberated through the bathroom, a relatively upbeat tune that made the instrument seem to sing and warble. Somehow, it managed to be soothing, yet dramatic at the same time; truly a wonder. Then, it stopped, as though changing songs, before jumping into a new melody. A somewhat more lively one this time. At one point, it seemed almost as though there were more than only one cello in the room.
Half expecting to be dead and wake up in the Aether, Vinyl slowly opened her eyes. She could see over the top of her glasses that the walls and ceiling were painted white. Vinyl looked to her side. It was only then she realised she was in a bath - a refreshing, cool one, to be sure, but that didn’t make it less puzzling.
A bathtub? Whose bath am I in?!
Looking to her right, Vinyl raised her head cautiously, and was presented with the striking answer to her question; a paragon of elegance, Octavia Melody stood a few paces away. She swayed as she played, eyes closed, allowing the music and instinct to guide her gliding bow and dancing hooves. Vinyl found herself unable to move, almost unable to think. A window placed high in the wall cast the sun’s dying rays upon her, a golden spotlight. All too soon, Vinyl was snatched from her awestricken daze when Octavia finished the piece with a graceful flourish of her bow. There were so many questions Vinyl wanted to ask; she wanted to know how Octavia had found her, why she was in a bath and why Octavia was playing in the bathroom, how Octavia had the unearthly ability to play something so upbeat and yet hauntingly beautiful. She tried to manipulate her open mouth to ask, but no words came. The grey mare slowly raised her head from her dramatic finale and opened her eyes. She placed her bow and cello leaning against the wall and looked to the bathtub.
“Oh! Vinyl, you’re awake! I’m so glad you’re alright!” The relief was clear in Octavia’s voice.Vinyl attempted to enquire as to what was going on, but her words became a dry croak; her mouth was utterly parched. Octavia appeared to notice this.
“Oh! The doctor mentioned you would want a drink. I’ll get some water!” Octavia said, trotting from the bathroom and heading to the kitchen, leaving Vinyl to her thoughts.
Why was I passed out in Octavia’s bath? She desperately tried to recall the events of the day prior to waking up. I remember waking up in the storage locker like normal… Then what? I wandered around Manehattan looking for a job, right? But… That still doesn’t explain why I was out cold in the bath of some mare I’ve only met once.
Vinyl was snapped out of her reverie when Octavia returned, a large glass of fresh water on a tray balanced on her back. “Here! Drink this.”
Drink. Of course… The coaster. I found it in my saddlebag, didn’t I? Did I get here and faint?
Vinyl reached out with her magic to try to drink, but a shudder ran down her spine and she recoiled in agony, wincing. She tried to yell, but nothing came. She threw her hooves to her forehead, shuddering.
“Oh my! Are you okay?!”
Vinyl tapped her horn.
“Can you not lift it?”
She shook her head and reached for the handle, slipping her hoof through it, and drank. The entire glass was gone in one gulp.
“That’s better,” Vinyl gasped. The moisture had begun to return to her throat. “I don’t think I can use my magic, which is weird. What happened to me?”
“I was hoping you would be able to tell me, actually. All I know is that you were unconscious in an alleyway near my agent’s office. You were in really rough shape. I managed to get you back here and called a doctor. He seems to think you got heatstroke.”
Oh. I remember now. Wait, did Octavia carry me?
“I’ve been in kind of a bad way since the night we met; that would make sense.”
“Have you eaten at all since we last spoke?” Octavia asked, having taken stock of Vinyl’s deteriorated figure.
Vinyl’s face flushed red.
“You’ve been going hungry for two weeks?!” Octavia was clearly mortified.
“Well, no, not really; it’s not like I haven’t eaten at all, I mean I’ve taken what I could f-”
“Okay, here’s the plan. You are going to take a bath, clean yourself up. I am going to cook us both some dinner. Got it?” As much as it hurt Vinyl’s pride, she once again found herself ill inclined to object to Octavia’s hospitality, much as she had two weeks prior when the two had first met.
“Got it.”
******
There are few things which can make one feel as if they have been cured of all ailments without any actual cures being in force. A hot, relaxing bath after two weeks of roughing it in a storage locker is one of them. For the first time in an entire fortnight, Vinyl was able to completely relax. She thought of very little; only of how fortunate she had been that day. Octavia may well have just saved her life. Any actual cleaning by this point was already accomplished without event now Vinyl was less dehydrated and had the use of her horn again. It was difficult to lift things as she was still weak, but possible at least.
Steam billowed around the room, and pleasant, sweet smells floated on the vapour from the soaps Vinyl had added to the water once Octavia had left. It was really rather an elegant room, and the orange light from the windows shining upon the marble tiles set on the walls caused the water droplets in the air to shimmer like gold dust, giving it a warm and almost regal atmosphere; as though it were an ensuite in Celestia’s chambers. The bath was on a slightly raised floor, and near the foot of the bath was a striking dark marble pillar; just the right accent for such a pure white space.
After having bathed for around half an hour, the water began to cool down and Vinyl decided it was time she got out. She sat up on her rump and then went to stand, before her right foreleg buckled and a searing pain shot up it.
Vinyl yelled. Loudly.
******
It was a little known fact that most nobles in Equestria couldn’t tell a spatula from a saucepan; they’ve got ponies to do that for them. Octavia, however, was not one such a noble. When she was a foal, her mother had been insistent that she learn to cook in a traditional style that stayed true to her heritage. She stood in her kitchen and leafed through the cookbook her mother had given her; one hoof-written by her great-grandmother.
Oh! Seapony Pie is always filling… Do I have any seaweed?
She set about gathering the ingredients necessary from their various locations around the kitchen, checking them off in a mental list as she went. It took her all of about twenty-five minutes all told, to have the pie ready to bake. She set it in the oven, glanced at the clock, and made a note of the time. She looked over the top of her kitchen counter’s backboard into her living room at her reading nook in the corner. Upon moving in, she’d placed two bookshelves in the corner as well as a cushion and a low table for drinks; somewhere she could go to zone out and read. It was not uncommon for her to bring a duvet and spend most of her day there during the winter months.
Hm. I’ve got time for a chapter or two.
She walked over and browsed the shelf.
Mane Eyre... Of Mice and Mares… The Old Mare and The Sea… I really need some new books.
There was a yell from the bathroom.
Oh no… Octavia thought. “Vinyl? Are you alright?”
Silence. That was all she needed; she trotted over to the bathroom door and knocked; once, twice, thrice. The latch slid across from inside and the door opened.
At least she’s conscious this time. Octavia walked cautiously into the bathroom and stepped up onto the platform on which the bathtub stood. Vinyl appeared to be kneeling. “What happened?”
“I- I don’t know! I can’t stand on my leg!”
“Are you able to move it?”
“Yeah, looks like I just can’t put any weight on it,” Vinyl said, experimentally raising her right forehoof.
“Well, that is helpful,” Octavia said dryly. “Drain the bathtub; this will be easier if the floor does not become a small lake.” Vinyl obeyed, pulling the plug to let the water drain. Once the tub was relatively dry, Octavia opened the door in the side of the tub and shuffled to the opening.
“Put your hoof around my neck; let’s get you somewhere you can sit down and keep the weight off it.”
The two of them had haphazardly and awkwardly shuffled out of the bathroom and into the living room. Vinyl staggered over the the sofa and sat, still favouring her injured leg. Octavia walked to the phone, picked up the receiver and hit the call button. She asked the operator for a doctor’s office and in around twenty minutes, the same beige unicorn from earlier that day had arrived with his suitcase.
“Ah! Good to see you’re up and about,” he said to Vinyl, having seen her sat on the sofa. He turned to Octavia and set down his case. “She looks fine, Ms. Melody; what seems to be the problem?”
Vinyl spoke up, “I can’t use my front right hoof.”
“Oh, that’s unfortunate…” he said, stepping closer to Vinyl. “Can you move it?”
“Nah, not really. It’s really painful.”
“Hm. When did you notice it?”
“When I tried to stand on it.”
The doctor appeared pensive for a moment, then began to tap Vinyl’s leg in various places and move it around in various ways. He went on like this for some time, Vinyl occasionally letting out a yelp of pain or twisting her face into a grimace. After a few minutes, the doctor seemed satisfied and stepped back, flaring his horn. The sparkling yellow aura enveloped Vinyl’s leg for a few seconds, then the doctor went to his case and took out a sling. He proceeded to wrap Vinyl’s leg with it, his tongue sticking out ever so slightly to one side. “There we are. I cast a pair of spells; one was a spell which allowed me to see through your leg, the other was a spell to speed up the recovery.”
“Wait, what’s up with it?”
“It appears that you sprained it quite seriously when you fell. You won’t be able to walk on it for around a fortnight. During that time, I recommend you take over-the-counter painkillers as needed. Avoid heat, alcohol, running - or other exercise - and massage for the next seventy-two hours.”
Vinyl swallowed. That bath earlier might’ve been a bad idea.
“Thank you, doctor,” Octavia said. The doctor gave Vinyl some painkillers and left, leaving the two mares alone. After a few moments of silence, Vinyl spoke up.
“Octavia?”
“Hm?”
“Thank you. For bringing me back, I mean.”
“Don’t mention it. I only did what any friend would, Vinyl. I just wish you’d told me.”
“Yeah… I would’ve told you, but I don’t like mooching off other ponies.”
“It is not ‘mooching’ if you end up in the sorry state in which I found you for not doing it.” A moment of silence passed between the two. Not a tense one, but not really awkward either. “Where have you been living these past two weeks, Vinyl? Answer honestly.”
Vinyl blushed. “Uh… A storage locker.”
“Well, it is better than an underpass or an alleyway, I suppose. Even so, I am sure you would like a more proper place to live, would you not?”
“Well, yeah, but I don’t really have much choice.”
“I have a spare bedroom, Vinyl.” Silence. Vinyl appeared to be pondering what Octavia had said. “I could use the company, anyway. I haven’t really got many friends since… Since the Gala. I’ve been feeling really rather isolated.” A little more silence.
“Octavia?”
“Yes?”
“I’m starving. Can we have dinner first?”
Octavia giggled; the first time that day. “Alright, Vinyl; we can eat first. The pie is probably ready by now.”
“Oh, what’s in it?”
Octavia grinned as wickedly as she could. “Well, I shall give you a hint; let’s see if you can guess. It’s called ‘Seapony Pie’.”
Vinyl’s eyes widened. I really hope that’s not how it sounds.
