The Room mate

by Bromad

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, DJ P0N-3, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Octavia
Length: 13228

Vinyl Scratch and Octavia constantly wonder about the other since they are room mates, especially since Octavia is one of Vinyl's personalities who she relies upon to keep her out of trouble.

Their busy schedule's have never allowed Vinyl and Octavia to ever meet, but they are aware of each other's existence-they live in the same house, they both share the same bathroom, the same kitchen and living room, but it's Vinyl who is worried about them sharing the same body.

Set before Season 4.

Published 2015-02-23 04:40:02 UTC
Last updated 2015-06-13 18:01:58 UTC

The better me

The room mate
Bromad

The promise of an early morning migraine made the call of Octavia’s porcelain toilet that much stronger as she threw off the covers and sprinted for the bathroom.

Octavia crawled along the tiled floor into the shower after emptying her stomach and wiping her muzzle of the lingering strands of stomach acid hanging from her lips. Reaching up, she desperately tried batting her hooves at the handles for cold water and let the frozen droplets cascade down the backside of her neck, unwinding the initial binds of the migraine clamping down on her skull.

“Oh, where did it start?” She demanded to know. Octavia tried to think back when the morning headaches were no longer going away as quickly, and how she tried to prevent them from happening. Now every day getting out of bed was like pulling her own teeth from how tired she was. Last week she gave up wine before bed, the week before she tried jogging around the culdesac on a daily basis, and finally resigning to go to bed right after late night recitals.

“Today.” She said, ten minutes after letting the cold water numb her senses. “The doctor.” She rubbed one hoof against the other, noticing white short hairs and a few stray blue hairs built-up in the shower drain.

“Gah. VINYL!” She shouted, wincing. “Vinyl.” The hell is she? Does she even live here? Last night, she remembered hearing Vinyl play her music, but never actually seeing her. The last time I saw her… dropping by a concert of hers just for the hell of it…six months ago? No, not even then, she never particularly enjoyed the radically different electric music Vinyl played. The tempo was too rapid for her taste. Signing the lease… yes, she must have seen her then. She had a white coat...and owned dozens of sunglasses.

Octavia grabbed at the handles again, pulling herself up right and turning the shower off. The master bathroom was accessible by on each end, one door leading to her room, the other to Vinyl’s. Despite the state of which Vinyl left things in, she marked things accordingly, but now with her side of the sink and bathroom littered with various bottles of hair care product made her side look like a salon exploded. Droplets of dried water stained the mirror as well, Octavia reached for a packet of sticky notes in her drawer and scrawled ‘Clean it up’ and stuck the note to Vinyl’s side of the mirror. Her door was marked with what Octavia guessed was her cutie mark, a dual eighth note, but for a moment she could hear a clicking noise repeat itself.

Octavia tried placing the noise and where she had heard it before. “Record player.”She said to herself in mental triumph.

The noise was coming from Vinyl’s room, and this wasn’t the first time she left something on. Twice she had to go in and turn off an alarm, speakers, a toaster, and shove guests that were here compliments of Vinyl, out of the house. Pressing on to Vinyl’s door, the room smelled of a long night. When the amount of things were left out reached Vinyl proportions, Octavia smirked and tried to envision the room like a crime scene and investigate, seeing where the party started, how much distance it ran, and where it ended.

It looked like Vinyl managed to stumble into her room, with two, possibly three other ponies, and proceeded to tear the room apart like a tornado going from the wall stand filled with records that were now scattered onto the floor, to her bed, into the bathroom, out to her balcony where the door was cracked open, and finally back onto the bed. The number of ponies managed to knock over her nightstand, two lamps, and a mixing table. Octavia finally found the record player, a steady click repeating itself after every revolution. Picking up the arm, and moving it to the side, she saw the note left by Vinyl for Octavia.

“Hey Octavia, I knew you’d come in here! I’ll give you 1000 bits if you straighten up my room. Not too much, you know, just toss some junk out, don’t worry about the bed sheets, pick any crap up that got knocked over. Cash is in the drawer by my bed. Your choice, I’m out. thanks, ~V”

Octavia raised her eyebrow, ‘One thousand bits? Is the mare serious?’ If she really wanted the 1000 bits, and some spending money it would be worth it to spend a few minutes, an hour at the most to clean Vinyl’s room. Going to the drawer, she peeked in and her mouth dropped at the sight of bits stacked in rows lining the entire drawer. Twenty stacks of fifty bits, one thousand bits just as Vinyl promised. Suddenly she frowned, catching a whiff of whatever bodily fluids permeated the sheets.

“Oh dear, Celestia!” Octavia cried, her migraine coming back full swing as the pungent stench made her crave fresh air. Running to the balcony, she winced at the bright sunlight assaulting her eyes.

“I wouldn’t touch that bed even if I had magic.” Octavia said, covering her eyes with her hooves. “That needs to air out, before I even get near that room.” she thought, holding her breath while avoiding the doorway to Vinyl’s room and walking over to her own side. The call of an easy 1,000 bits was too tempting to pass up. She didn’t like to play the role of the maid, but considering Octavia’s room compared to Vinyl’s, it was definitely clear as to who put in the effort to keep things clean.

“How long have you been experiencing these migraines?”

“A few weeks, the first week I thought I was sick, and then they stopped for a few days. I tried to do all the healthy things like go jogging, staying away from drinks before bed, going to bed earlier.”

“Any changes in diet?”

“Only after I started having them, I’ve been eating more flaxseeds.” Dr. Barrel nodded, and made a note of it on his clipboard.

“That’s good…that’s good. I’m sure you know they’re quite rich in Omega-3?” He asked.

Octavia nodded. “That’s why I started eating them. Oh, and gum, chewing on things helps take my mind off of them.” Doctor Barrel added another note.

“Has there been any sources of stress in your life recently that might be contributing to these migraines? Migraines are often linked to stress.”

“I hesitantly say this, but no. My life…it’s been quite amazing. I’ve been playing actively, work isn’t becoming too overbearing, I’m stable with my income.”

“Any problems in the homestead?” Dr. Barrel asked, Octavia’s head nodded before she could she could stop herself.

“Vinyl. No, not even that. Don’t think of her like that. She’s my roommate, but I can’t remember the last time I saw her, she leaves a few messes here and there, her room for one, but everything else is contained.”

“Are you feeling any other discomforts aside from the migraines and the vomiting?”

“My stomach has been feeling upset, needless to say, and about two weeks ago I noticed my…bladder when I go to the bathroom…burning and some minor abdominal pain.”

Dr. Barrel’s ears perked up, and he looked from Octavia down to his pad, “Burning? While urinating? Have you had any male or female partners recently?”

“No!” Octavia said loudly. She remained dignified in her response by saying nothing else. Dr. Barrel weighed the options of what malady Octavia was facing before replying. “From what you’ve described, the situation might be a urinary tract infection.” Octavia’s expression immediately shifted from worst case scenario to one of relief. “However, it may have spread and developed into an upper urinary tract infection, symptoms of which are burning sensation while urinating, vomiting, headaches, nausea, as well as abdominal pain. Now, these symptoms mirror countless other causes, including STDs, I’m going to ask for a urinary test to determine the exact cause. Have you taken a urine test before?” Octavia nodded, feeling her tail flick out of reflex.

“I’ll have the nurse come along in a moment with sterile wipes and container.”

Dr. Barrel left the room, leaving Octavia to meet with the overly pleasant nurse as she described how to take the test while being lead to the bathroom down the hall.

With a bag containing the vial in hoof, she was ushered inside, placing the jar into a little window for the nurse to grab when she was finished. “How did it go?” She was asked by the overly pleasant nurse.

“It stung a little.”

“Don’t worry, we’ll have your results soon. If you’d like to wait in the examination room, he’ll be in as soon as we’re done with initial tests.” Octavia nodded, walking back into the same examination room. She hesitated before climbing back up onto the table, immediately wondering how sanitary the paper used to cover the tables were, and instead opted to stand. An hour passed in isolation, hoof steps passing by and the occasional door slam was all she could hear.

Dr. Barrel returned with results in hoof to the delight of Octavia. During the lonely hour, she counted all the ceiling tiles, the ear tips, and inflated a plastic glove and tied a knot on one end, turning it into a balloon, all done out of boredom.

“As I suspected, your results came back positive for a upper urinary tract infection. All the symptoms and pain you’ve been feeling, it’s because of E. Coli. The headaches, which as you described came before the migraines, and everything else that ails you, all links to a UTI. We would need a fecal matter sample to determine if the E.Coli is yours if this was a multiple partner related situation, but as you claim, it’s not. I could most likely determine that sometime a few weeks ago, you might not have completely wiped, and then the E. Coli was spread down. I’m not calling you unsanitary, but it happens. UTI’s are quite common, females more so than males. Within the past month, this hospital alone diagnosed seven cases, and we’ve treated all of them to its completion. Now, since the bacteria has spread as far as it has, antibiotics will be needed to treat the disease. I’m writing a prescription, which I strongly urge that you continue taking even after the symptoms have stopped. This is to prevent the bacteria from forming an immunity, and coming back. The main thing to remember outside of the medicine is to drink a lot of water, dehydration is a major concern with UTI’s. This will help flush out your kidneys, as well as provide better circulation for the antibiotics to run its course. I’d recommend staying away from spicy food, alcohol, which you have, and anything else that might upset your stomach to prevent any irritation to the bladder.”

Octavia let out her breath, the isolation escalated the ‘what if’ scenarios in her mind to panic inducing levels. With the doctor’s explanation, she slowly felt her tense muscles winding back down as she took the prescription, an envelope with a her urine analysis report and two pages outlining her insurance coverage as well as a short list of known allergies.

In her mind, this was something she could handle. Take a pill, drink more water, the pain will go away. She followed the instructions printed on the label, and even wrote down ‘Take once per day’ on a note, pinning it to the fridge where she kept the medicine in a drawer on her side. The envelope from the hospital she opened and gave a brief glance at the contents, trying to find the section that listed off what was wrong with her. In a column to the left of the page it read the contents, starting with 95% water, 1.3% trace metals and ions, 3.7 % inorganic/organic compounds. Under 3.7%, there was a list that trailed on for twelve lines, breaking down the components of the percentage even further.

With one burden off her back, she thought of the 1000 bits waiting for her, if she picked up a few things in Vinyl’s room. Octavia left the bedroom and balcony doors open along with the windows for it to air out, assaulting the room with a can of scented aerosol before entering, she cleaned up the room and walked out with the bits within an hour.

After returning downstairs, Octavia rifled through her side of the fridge, pulling out jam and honey for toasted croissants and moved the plate and her water to the deck chairs out side, skipping up the steps to her room to retrieve her cello before stopping at the open door to Vinyl’s room. While cleaning she managed to find several deep red sunglasses, almost the shade of a magenta dahlia. Octavia saw them sitting on Vinyl’s nightstand where she left them. The placebo effect was working wonders for her migraine, but the bright light from the sun still preyed upon her irises. Octavia pulled one pair of Vinyl’s sunglasses on and smiled, eased at how less strained her eyes felt with the obviously strong UV reduction.

“And if they break, I’ll buy her a new pair.” She said, walking back downstairs with her cello. Octavia felt more alive than she had in the first time in months, playing outside, knowing that she would get recover, and tasting the sweet and savory taste of a buttery, toasted honey and jam croissant.

Dinner plans had started with a trip into the farmers market in town, she spotted beets and bought several golden and red ones for herself. Lemons, chives, dill, three coconuts, more flaxseeds, sea salt, and garlic. Returning home, Octavia light up the kitchen, placing the unpeeled beets in the oven until the skin could be easily peeled off. While the beets were cooking, she minced the chives, dill, garlic, and squeezed the lemons. Octavia ground the flaxseeds into a fine dust before cracking open the coconuts. She poured the water into a bowl and let the flaxseeds, lemon juice, garlic, chives, and dill soak while peeling the baked beets, discarding or chewing on the skins. The only musical instrument in the kitchen at that time couldn’t be played with a normal bow, hooves, or a pick, the mandolin she used was a board with a sharp razor raised a few millimeters above the board itself to allow the chef very thin cuts that could be repeated as many times as possible. The mandolin sliced the golden beets thin, and the red beets even thinner after lowering the razor. A large pan was filled with oil, a pot with water, both were turned onto heat as Octavia drained off the coconut water into a glass, and sipped it, smirking at the taste.

“High in nutrients.” She reminded herself.

The flaxseeds and everything else was pounded and reground into a paste which she seasoned. Then, she took a round cookie cutter and pressed down on the stacks of beets to make perfect rounds. By then, the pots and pans were hot enough for her to boil the golden beet slices, and fry the reds. On a large sheet pan, she laid out the fifty boiled beet round and scooped the flaxseed filling on top, then laying second golden beet slice on top and sealing it with the tip of her hoof and a little water. Baking them all off, the red beets only needed a few minutes in the oil to become beet chips, crunchy and firm like a potato chip, sweet, but not too overpowering like a sweet potato. Sprinkling sea salt over the finished ones, she took the beet raviolis and chips together on one plate and went to the table. Lighting two candles, Octavia drank another glass of water while searching for the finishing touch to her beet raviolis by pouring a few drops of white truffle oil to accent the taste.

“Oh, heavens, that is good.” She said, reveling in her own culinary creation. There were dozens of raviolis, and two movie nights worth of red beet chips leftover. Placing them into separate tubs, Octavia wrote a second note and pinned it to the door. “Vinyl, food in the plastic tuperware, you may have some. Some.” She underlined, “~Octavia.”

The cleanup of the kitchen took as long as the prep, and by the time she was finished, it was nearly ten oclock. Drinking another glass of water, Octavia completed her night by going to the bathroom, and pulling herself into bed. Her head hit the pillow, and within two minutes Octavia was asleep. It was at this point in time, Vinyl woke up and sighed. She reached over to turn on the nightstand and looked at her hooves.

Grey.

Her mane was black and her coat was grey. Rubbing the spot on her forehead, her horn reappeared. “Octi, you’re killin me.” Vinyl said, throwing off the sheets to Octavia’s bed, she marched through the bathroom and into her own. Wincing at the sight of her bed, she tore off the sheets using her magic, carried the ball to the balcony, and incinerated the tainted sheets.

Shaking her head free of cobwebs, Vinyl felt more at home in her own body after changing the coat color back to white, cutie mark to dual musical notes, and hair back into the same electric blue pattern. She threw on new sheets, new pillows, and went downstairs and to the front door, pausing to look back up the stairs towards Octavia’s empty room. Her cello was sitting in its case on the couch after Octavia brought her things back inside. Flipping open the lid, she carefully ran her hooves over the strings, hearing the grinding vibrations it made as she did so. Carefully bringing it up to a standing position, Vinyl placed the bow at one end, pressing in with one hoof against the frets, and pulled back. The cello screeched in protest, Vinyl tried for another three passes, fumbling with the notes, and trying to produce a pleasantly audible sound before laying the cello back down into its case, closing the hatch, and crying.

Hours passed, Vinyl was up to witness the sunrise from her couch facing the bay windows. From how little she moved, she couldn’t remember sleeping or not, but after rousing herself from the couch, Vinyl went through Octavia’s day planner and saw that it consisted of looking for new bedsheets for Vinyl as a gift, jogging the park loop in upper Canterlot, and there was a little scribble in the margin, ‘who is Vinyl?’

Part of her wanted to scream at that, Octavia may have never met her, but that didn’t mean Vinyl didn’t know anything about her saner self. Rolling off the couch, and trotting to the kitchen, she placed reached into the freezer and pulled out a chilled glass and a bottle of vodka. She was about to search for tomato juice and a celery stick when she saw the note pinned to Octavia’s drawers. “Once per day.”
Vinyl opened the drawer and saw the prescription for UTI, and didn’t know what to make of it.
“She went to the doctor?”

“She went to the doctor.” Vinyl explained on short notice to her psychiatrist. “And she was prescribed these.” She said, holding out the bottle. Dr. Bawl accepted Vinyl’s emergency meeting with concern when she told him that Octavia went and saw the doctor on her own and took medicine.

“And you don’t remember being in the hospital?” Vinyl shook her head, her right hoof was shaking.

“No, I knew that I was feeling a little off, but I thought it was just my diet.”

“Well then it’s certainly a good thing that Octavia did this for you. An infection like this, these are quite strong anti-biotics. If it’s alright with you, I’d like to request a exchange of information, with your consent of course, with Dr. Barrel. I’ll bring him up to speed on your current situation so that he may notify me if Octavia makes any more visits.”

“Doctor-patient confidentiality?” Vinyl asked.

Dr. Bawl nodded, “The same doctor-patient confidentiality agreement, I promise to only share information you want me to share, and nothing else. My main concern with Octavia is that you allowed her to do so.” Vinyl looked up from between her hooves and to the doctor.

“What? I didn’t allow her, she just went off and did it! She took the initiative, I would’ve too. I just thought that whatever I was feeling was a flu, or a bug.”

“So why didn’t you take the initiative yourself, Vinyl? Regular checkups are important, even if something minor is bothering you. You might have been able to catch this yourself early on, because right now, you’ve put the stress of letting Octavia deal with your problems.”

“I know.” She said with a loathing tone in her voice, “But that’s why she started showing up! Because I needed her! I would’ve been dead a long time ago, and you know that. She’s proven that no matter what, she’ll make the right choice when I wont.”

“And why is that Vinyl? Who is Octavia to you? Your caretaker? Mother? Maid? What’s stopping you from making the same choice Octavia would make?”

Vinyl growled, trying to force the exact words to come out. She tried moving with her hooves to come to a response, but couldn’t think of something conclusive. “Octavia is a better me, than I could ever be.”

“You can’t take negative thinking like that to heart Vinyl, Octavia is proof that you can be a better mare. She helped you through your addiction, but that was still you. You need to remember that everything Octavia does, is because you wanted change. Change is a hard concept for many ponies to allow in their life, and I think that Octavia is there to help with the changes in your life and transition you into a better place. Why do you find that discomforting?”

“Because every time I let her take over…it’s like I can tell when I can or shouldn’t snap back to reality. It feels good being clean, doc. I don’t know how she did it, but I don’t know what to say. It’s like all the good, everything I want to be, the clear headed-ness, the feeling that everything I do as her is for the better. As Octavia, I don’t make the choice to go out to play at parties, even though that’s what I do to make a living, it pays the bills, but do you know how easy it is to get fucked up at a party you’re performing for? Or at a concert? You don’t even have to try.”

“Well Vinyl, what I suggest is that you start doing things she would do. You said you have her planner, right? Go jogging, go shopping, and most importantly, learn how to say no to those type of situations where you don't want to be in. If you knew Octavia would say no to a partner trying to sleep with you, then say no yourself. Say no to the ponies offering drugs, drinks, and late night parties. Say no to the bad influences in your life. You have the potential, you just need to realize it.”

What am I going to do, say no? “I will try.”

“You know, I’d still like to speak with Octavia someday. Is today going to be that day?” He asked optimistically.

“No, doc. I don’t want her to see me. I don’t want her to know that she only exists, because I couldn’t say no on my own.”

“It’s not unbecoming of somepony to ask for help, Vinyl. You’re strong, independent, you wanted to do this on your own, and in a way, Octavia is that same part of you who remains strong and independent.” Dr. Bawl looked up at his clock and frowned. “I’m sorry Vinyl, but this emergency session is about to run over into another client’s time slot. If you like, I can still meet with you on Friday morning, and before you go, I’d like to get your signature for the release of information.”

Vinyl shook as if a cold chill ran over her, but she nodded. “Alright…but tell him not to tell Octavia that she’s me.”

“Of course. Vinyl, when you go home, I’d like you to think about what we’ve talked about today, and get some sleep. Crawl in bed, and just let yourself sleep. It sounds like you need it.”

Vinyl left the room, with both her and Octavia running around, she hardly gets any sleep. Sighing, she thought about the jog around upper Canterlot.

“Pony see, pony do.” Vinyl said, turning away from the path that lead to her house and towards the park. She could practically hear the words Octavia would use, they sounded a lot like a mother’s words.

‘It’s good for you.’ She tried to laugh, letting the happiness come from inside instead of forcing it, but every contrived thought made her smirk before her smile dropped.

“I need her.” Vinyl said to herself, she was sure of it. How many times in the past year since she first appeared did this mare manage to pull her away from a bad situation? She was kind, caring, she took care of her when things were getting so terrible for her, that Vinyl could only remember waking up one morning, dressed as Octavia, and her hooves weren’t shaking, she didn’t feel the wanting need of drugs. Her better self pushed Vinyl out of control for three months while Octavia got her life back in order, by living a completely separate life that was happy-go-lucky enough to keep her away from everything that was trying to kill her, one bump at a time. She hadn’t fallen back into any relapses, just another vice. Three weeks ago it was a need, something so strong that she couldn’t bare facing another night without someone in her bed. Octavia was nice, but she wasn’t there. Vinyl needed the touch of another pony, a mare, stallion, a griffon, bull, or even that one time with the merponies at the beach, whoever was closest at the time. Sometimes Vinyl wondered about the mornings when Octavia would wake up, sore from the night before, and what possible explanation she could have for Vinyl’s actions.

“Celestia, I’m torturing her.” Vinyl said, looking around. She reached the park, and was a little more than ten steps away from the jogging path that stretched for two miles, ending half a mile from their house.

“Gah, this is going to suck.” She said, setting her pace at a brisk walk. For the first mile, she tried to suck it up and be positive about the fact that even though it was just walking, some miniscule amount of the strain she felt was actually good for her. Then she was jogging, focusing solely on the concrete infront of her that she was able to tune out everything except for the words, “Hey, isn’t that Vinyl Scratch?”, another half a mile in.

“Motherbucker! Why don’t you just piss off?!” She yelled, turning to see the mother and daughter duo in matching track outfits stare at her with gaping mouths. Vinyl froze, “Oh, jeeze, oh, gosh, I am so sorry. I thought you were the press. I am so sorry, I’ve been really wound up, and this…I’ve heard those words so many times coming from the press, paparazzi, and every journalist from here to the Crystal Empire say those words at least once. Hearing it like that kinda just set me off. I am so sorry.” She pleaded, the mother recovered first anger present in her eyes.

“What gives you the right to start swearing in public like that, when you obviously didn’t even know who was talking to you? Just because you are wound up, as you say you are, doesn’t mean you can go mouthing off! We just happened to recognize you, we weren’t trying to interrupt your day, my daughter just tried to make an observation.” Dark clouds were forming in Vinyl’s mind, she wanted to spit, tear this mother a new one, let her deal with the same shit she’s been going through-let her deal with another mare proving that she can live her life better, then this mother could ride in her tall carriage all day long.

“Obviously.” ‘Fuck.’ Vinyl said before she realized what word came out of her mouth. She just smart mouthed some random pony-but part of her wanted to argue that she did attempt to apologize before the mother started bitching about her social etiquette. What would Octavia do? Be the better pony of course. That was already out the window with the mother and daughter both trying to give Vinyl a tongue lashing, which as much as Vinyl wanted to slap or scream back at the both of them, she couldn’t help but think that if Octavia were the one jogging right now, the mother and daughter probably wouldn’t even recognize her… that’s one of the original reasons Octavia came into existence, to hide from press and fans. Now, Vinyl was hiding from a lot more things…and Octavia was doing a whole lot better at dealing with these situations than she was.

“So should I keel over and die for you, or will you accept my apology that I’m a terrible pony so the both of us can go on your way?” Vinyl asked, it wasn’t the perfect conflict resolution, but it was far better than telling the both of them to fuck off.

“You make me sick.” The mother said, the daughter was already trying to move away by giving her a wide berth.

“Yeah, I can tell from the way you so kindly bring your daughter to jog with you so you don’t have to watch her grow love handles and stress out over making the social viewing world think that everything is perfectly normal in your dry sex life, because your hubby is looking at you differently-the opposite direction at mares you consider more attractive and appealing to him; he’s actually quite committed to you, but neither of you can seem to get the bed to creak in the same way- so that one day she’ll be by buying matching track suits for herself and her daughter when she’s older, just like you.”

‘Fuck.’ Vinyl thought, ‘Certainly not something Octavia would do, but I feel a whole lot better about myself now.’ She left the shocked mother and the blushing daughter behind her, resuming her jogging pace, but cutting across the grassy stretches for a more direct route home.

Along the way, Vinyl felt her head grow hot, and the tip of her horn-she was getting ready to cast those same five spells again. One for her coat, one for her horn, one for her eyes, another for her mane, and the last one for her cutie mark. She checked back over her shoulder, the mother and daughter weren’t in site, but she still wanted to change into Octavia. Her front legs felt cold as she tried staving off the feeling of giving in; so many thoughts began telling her that if she went the rest of the day as her, things would be fine, that it would be for the best.
Suddenly Vinyl bolted, some far off distant noise, a door slam, or window slide open, or breeze passing through the trees made her sprint for cover. The park bathrooms, with the park situated where it was, the standard for cleanliness was set much higher, even a time sheet posted outside the women’s bathroom said that it had been cleaned earlier that day. Rushing in, she took to the fourth stall and locked the door behind her.

She slowly relaxed as she saw her mane and coat change. Rubbing her new cutie mark, it matched Octavia’s; same as always. She sat there for minutes on the toilet, resting her head against the wall. Her heart had been racing ever since she dealt with the mother and her daughter-how did she know that the mother was pushing high expectations down onto her daughter by making her jog? This was Canterlot, if high expectations weren’t crammed down filly and colt’s throats by their parents, then upper Canterlot would crumble and the whole world would be a lot better place.

Feeling her chest come back under control, Vinyl pushed open the door, and rested her hooves on the sink basin. Removing her glasses, she set them by the handles and turned the sink on. Blinking twice, she stared at herself in the mirror, tears were beginning to form and easily washed themselves away down the sink drain. The only thing left was her white horn and eyes. A second later they were dark pink, slowly fading to purple. Pressing her hoof to the tip of her horn, the visible source of her magic disappeared under Octavia’s hair. The door was suddenly pushed open as Vinyl dropped her hoof down to the sink again, it was the mother.

Her face was redder than the fur around her eyes, tear stains streaking down both sides of her face. When the door closed behind her, she seemed oblivious to the Octavia lookalike standing at the other end of the bathroom and let herself cry out the tears she’d been holding back from her daughter.

Vinyl washed her hooves, eyeing the crying mare quietly pound her hoof against the ground, trying to work up the resolve to bottle up and deal with the emotions later. Vinyl reached up and pulled out four paper towels, using one to dry her hooves, another to turn the faucet off, the third to wrap her sunglasses in. and walking over to the mother, she offered the last paper towel to her.

“Thank Celestia for park bathrooms, where else would we have our mental breakdowns?” Vinyl asked, using Octavia’s voice. The mare shuddered and nodded once, taking the paper towel and wiping her muzzle.

Vinyl was about to press on the door to leave, “At least there are decent ponies to help us see us through those times.” The mother said. Vinyl swallowed.

“Pity those who offend us, love thy enemy and all that. Whatever it takes to make it through another day in the upper echelons of Canterlot high society, right?” Vinyl asked with a bit of a giggle.

“Whatever it takes.” She said, her eyes tearing up again, but Vinyl could tell in an instant that they weren’t tears of sorrow.

“Well, I know a very good tea room not far from here, if you’d care to join me. The birch bark?”

The mother’s eyes jerked open. “The birch? It’s a two month waiting list! I’m with my daughter. You couldn’t possibly have two spare seats on such short notice.”

Vinyl shrugged her shoulders “You’re more than welcome to find out if I do in fact have the seats, your daughter is invited as well. Octavia Melody.” She said, offering her hoof.

“Stellar Ball, my daughter outside is Rain Dance.” She said, wiping her brown matted hair back behind her ears.
Rain Dance wasn’t aware of Vinyl and her mother’s return, “Rain Dance, we’re going.” She said, the younger mare wore a light pink jogging suit in contrast to her light green coat and blue hair.

“This is Octavia Melody, she was nice enough to offer us tea at the Birch Bark, today.” Stellar said, her neck swung around to Vinyl, “Will we have enough time to run home and change? I don’t want to arrive wearing my exercise clothes. I think we might cause a scene.”
“Of course, be at the Birch in, let’s say an hour? If there’s a Mr. Stellar Ball, I’m sure he’d enjoy coming as well.” Vinyl said.

“Oh, Octavia, you’re too kind.” She said, practically swooning.

“I’m just trying to make everything right in the world today.” She said, turning towards the street. “See you there, just give the pony your name.”

It took less than a wink and a number for Vinyl to set up a table at the Birch Bark tea room for four, the family arrived forty five minutes later. As Vinyl sat there with Octavia’s face, she contemplated the red sunglasses and how to bury the hatchet between her former self, Stellar, and Rain.

“Octavia!” Stellar called out, “I’d like you to meet my husband, Charity Case.”

“Pleased to meet you, my name is Octavia.” She said, rising from her seat to shake hooves.

“My wife returned home half an hour ago, and immediately started raving about the most generous pony she’d met in years. She told me of your treble cleft cutie mark as well, leading me to speculate that you’re familiar with the music industry?” Charity asked.

“Yes, I’m classically trained to play a variety of stringed instruments, my current endeavor is mastering the cello.” Charity’s smile widened as he looked to Stellar. Vinyl sipped on her madrona bark tea as the waiter brought around three more cups and hot water for them, along with a selection of several afternoon teas; lavender and iron, madrona and rock sugar, honeysuckle and ginger, lemon and jalepeno pepper, strawberry and pecan, morel and madera, the three guests eagerly chose an exotic pairing and waited for the front of the house staff to finish their tableside service.

“Well, that’s an interesting tidbit of information, but before we go any further, how and why did you put this together in such a short time? Why for…us?” Stellar asked.

“I know the owner, and manager, most of the staff, on Tuesday s at-it’s always changing- 11:00 to 2:00, they allow musicians to play at the sun’s peak height. And, you looked like you had been wronged.” Vinyl said, holding back emotions under Octavia’s mask, and then within her own mind only added pressure, making it difficult to focus.

“No one is that generous.” Stellar said coyly, Vinyl couldn’t stand it.

“Then leave.” Vinyl said, “I enjoyed your company, but now I think it’s time that you leave.” She said, downing the rest of her cup. Stellar, Charity, and Rain had hardly even touched their still steaming cups. Their expressions were mixed as they realized they overstepped their bounds, Vinyl looked up to the waiter and smiled as he refilled her cup, blatantly ignoring the family as they scooted out of the booth. Vinyl pulled the blinds to her booth closed and let her memory chalk up another instance where things had gone wrong.

Scream, bang her head on the table, gouge her eyes out, pour hot water in her face, Vinyl wanted to strangle herself for not holding back. For not sparing a shred of curtesy and not bothering to swallow the rest of her pride while she was at it. She couldn’t even act like Octavia, even if she tried. The conversation played itself again over and over in her mind, already continuing down different paths, she could’ve been friends with them. They might’ve even asked her to play somewhere.

“Excuse me, Ms. Melody?” The voice belonged to Charity, “I’d like to apologize for our behavior, it was uncouth of us to question your generosity.”

“Don’t be. Please, give this to your wife, and tell her that it’s unfortunate we couldn’t make amends and become friends.” Vinyl said, dropping most of Octavia’s accent. Charity was too nervous to realize the difference, having not grown to know her voice yet and accepted the wadded up paper towel with minor hesitation, through the curtain.

“Thank you for the tea.” He said, trotting off. Vinyl hung her head, throwing open the curtain and stepping out. She went for the back door, hearing rapid foot falls charge back to her booth and only to see that there was nopony there and that the cups and kettle had been cleared away.

Vinyl was back in her room, slamming the back of her head against the baseboard of her bed. She could see directly into Octavia’s room, she expected to wake up hours ago, and get on with her list of things to do that day. “You know what? I don’t care.” Vinyl went to Octavia’s planner, checking off ‘jog around the park’ and pausing when it came to the bedsheets. That mare would probably find the most comfortable sheets in the whole kingdom, maybe even rip off the sheets to Celestia’s bed, and Octavia didn’t even ask for a thank you.
Vinyl went downstairs, lofting Octavia’s cello down in her magic grip with utmost care, and wrote the words ‘Thank you for everything-V.’ onto a piece of paper. She took one of the anti-biotics, drank half a glass of water, and as an afterthought wrote the word ‘sleepiness’ under the list of side effects, drawing to thick lines under it after closing her refrigerator drawer.

Sitting on the couch, Vinyl set the planner in plain view for Octavia to see, placing the glass of water within hoof's reach, and pulled out her cello and bow, slipping her thank you note in between the strings of her cello, draping one leg over the body, and the other gripping the bow, Vinyl fell back and went to sleep.

Author's Note

Dr. Barrel's first name is Double.
hahahahah:rainbowlaugh: oh...:twilightoops:

Somewhat dedicated to my room mate; I didn't learn your last name or phone number until three months after I moved in, and I know you're not dead because I see your pile of clothes stacked on your bed and desk shift occasionally.

Healthy living

Octavia looked up from the bow resting lightly in her grasp to the bay windows. Internally, she sighed again, slowly piecing together the blurry morning, and remaining listless as a sense of weightlessness floated through her limbs. The last tangible thought she could remember was of her lying down to sleep in her bed. Now with one leg draped over her cello, the other hoof had the bow just out of reach.

"What an odd..." Morning. she meant to say, looking around the living room, only to sense from the light shining through the bay windows that it was well into the afternoon. Her eyes grew open wide and she sat upright. The note tucked in between her cello's strings only caused for a moment of hesitation as she read it, setting Vinyl's note down on the coffee table when she saw her little black calender book as well. The items 'Jog around the park' was thoroughly scratched out, along with the words 'Already taken care of -V' written next to the task where she was going to hunt down a pair of new bedsheets for Vinyl.

"Well, from the notes, I must've missed her..." Octavia thought aloud, lying her cello next to her on the couch as she rolled onto her hooves.
"And my medicine!" She said, reminding herself. Only to see that she had scribbled 'Sleepiness' onto the side of her prescription bottle under the list of side effects. Octavia stared at the bottle for a moment, "They were rather strong." She mused, trying to remember any faint detail about her morning.

Octavia placed her medicine back into the refrigerator door, and closed it, "Perhaps I'll tell Dr. Barrel in the morning about the strength of the anti-biotics."

With a glass of water in hoof, she returned to the living room, setting her glass on a coaster. With a tender ease, Octavia fit the cello back into its case and carried it upstairs. After returning downstairs, she took two sips of water before frantic pounding on the front door made her pause.

"OCTAVIA!" A pony shouted, followed by more knocking. Octavia rushed to the door, sparing only a moment to peek through the eye hole. The pony standing two steps back from the front porch was flustered, head cocked towards the upstairs windows, scanning to see some sort of life coming from the upper floors when Octavia opened the door. His head snapped down, and Octavia recognized him, but before she could say anything, the stallion broke out his smile and ran up to her and grabbed her right hoof. "Octavia! So good to see you! Please, you, wouldn't happen to be busy tonight would you? We need a strings pony."

Octavia's cheeks blushed for a moment before lightening when she picked up on the word 'we'. "My, it's certainly a good night to see you too, Parish, now tell me more about why you need me?"

"Okay, so, it's something we, Brass Beauty and Symphony, and even Frederick, and myself have wanted to do, but Symphony was offered an interview in Manehatten for second chair, and this is super important to her, because their past first-chair was traded to Maritonia as part of a big culture exchange event that's coming up next season, that and I heard he was slipped a few thousand bits on top, so then their second become first, but now the Manehatten Symphonic's need a second chair. Even if she doesn't get it, this is the only day where all of our schedules sort of meet up, and you'd be the only mare who knows the songs."

"Slow down, Parish, what's the event?" She asks, curious to know more details.

"A few weeks ago, we all got really excited about the idea of doing a live free show, right in the middle of the Canterlot market, for fun. Do you know how to play Moore's 3rd? The violinist piece?" Octavia bared her teeth, unsure of her response.

"Well, I know that piece for the cello, I'd have to play through it a few times before the show. If you really need a violin part, I could play it, it's been a while since I've picked up the violin, and I just need to dig out the sheet notes before hoof."

"Great! Could you please? Do you have a violin here with you?" Parish asked, leaning to the right and looking over Octavia's shoulder, expecting to see the instrument on display.

"Yes- how much of a rush are you in to get me to the market?" Octavia asked.

"Oh, well, we were actually going to be playing next week, but I heard from Tempo that the talent scout for the gala this year is Charity Case, and I just so happen to know that his assistant, Ink, who is Brass Beauty's BFF, told her that he's going shopping for his wife today at 6:30 P.M., so we wanted to bump up the performance for today."

"Does Symphony know?"

"That we're playing today? No, but from what Ink told Brass, Symphony was giving her audition within the same time-frame that Charity Case was slotted to sit in at the Manehatten Philiharmonic hall."

"So she's not on her way back?"

"Diamondzello went to support Symphony, and then yesterday came back and said that Symphony was in a second round of auditions, Ink told Brass it was because of something Charity mentioned to the maestro." Parish explained.

"So she might not even play the Gala at all if she's in Manehatten?"

"We'll see, but if she has an even greater chance of impressing Charity because she's played for him one-on-one and if she gets picked up for the Gala, we still need to play."

"Keep talking, come on in, I'll grab my violin." Octavia said, trotting upstairs.

"Brass said that aside from the Manehatten Symphony, Charity Case is having a gay old time Broadway, went to seven different shows, four of them weren't even classic! He even looked at your roommate Vinyl." Parish yelled up the stairs.

"What?" Octavia yelled, emerging from her own room.

"Your room mate, Vinyl. Brass Beauty heard from her BFF, Ink, his assistant-slash-daily planner, that Charity Case saw her four days ago in Manehatten at a show she put on at the Andromeda theater off of Southwest Beetsdale, do you know the place? Is she here or still out touring?"

Octavia looked down from the second floor to Parish, he often played the role of a pony with all the details, and certainly knew how to dominate a conversation. "Andromeda, no. Vinyl? I haven't seen her in months, but you just missed her too, she left me a note no more than two hours ago."

"Darn, I've wanted to meet her." He said, casting another glance around the foyer.

"What about Copper Stings...or-"

"Copper lives in Ponyville, and I don't know where Perfectia lives."

"Shall we go?" Octavia asked, the violin was strapped to her back and music sheets stuffed into her saddlebag.

"Yes, we're warming up at Fredricks." Parish said, leading Octavia out.

The heart of Canterlot Marketplace was accentuated with a white limestone fountain that depicted a pony from each race, water coming from beneath the pegasus' wing trailing down to the earth ponies, and then the unicorns. There was a two meter gap of concrete where no stall could set up on, and was intended for hoof traffic. With market stalls crowding close to every available plot of land, offering fresh watermelons, mangoes, apples, and pears, carrots, grapes, celery, pablano peppers, and coconuts. Rice, wheat, oats, nuts, breads, berries, salts, and spices took up half the district. It was split along a fine line that carried over into linens, fabrics, watches, outdoor art, beads, decorations, flowers, trees, glass ware, and beauty products ranging from bath salts, water detoxification, and body butters. Brass Beauty stood in front of the fountain, eyeing Octavia sporting a violin and Fredrick with a stand up rolling piano. Parish's harp was on top of the piano, with one of his hooves resting against it as they waited for Brass to begin.

The smile on Octavia's lips was coy as she waited, she couldn't think of very many performances or songs that began with the tuba, but as Brass Beauty puffed up her cheeks in anticipation, the first note she played immediately caught the attention of Fredrick, Octavia, and Parish; they mentally counted and waited for their queue before jumping out from in between stalls and join in on the next measure. Fredrick's head dipped with every second note, his lips reading, 'One...and two...and three...and four and...' He listened to the clack of his metronome swing back and forth, set to 120 beats per minute. The timing for his piano stanzas were written in 8/8ths time, in comparison to Brass Beauty's 4/4ths time on the tuba.

Parish obsessively compared a version of Brass Beauty's sheet notes to her actually playing, "Go." He said, Octavia quickly cantered up next to Brass Beauty, violin and bow in hoof, with a music stand clenched in her teeth. Octavia felt her own head dipping as she saw Brass Beauty eye her, raising her instrument up a few instruments on the fourth note before bringing it back down on the transition to the first note again. Octavia joined in and smiled, watching Parish and Fredrick quickly wheel the piano and harp out to join them. They were almost stopped by the seven ponies blocking the path to watch Brass and Octavia. Forcing their way through, they 'pardon me' and 'excuse'd us' through the group to quickly set up along side Octavia, where they waited for their measure to join in. With all four ponies playing at once, classical music in the market place, the moving crowds of ponies passing near the fountain dropped conversations and turned their heads towards the musicians. After reaching their second chorus, they heard the sound of hooves stomping on the ground as they quieted their instruments during the rests, before playing again at fortissimo to compensate for the growing number of ponies who now crowded around them to listen. It only took them a moment to hear each other's queues as the ponies around them grew quieter in response.

Parish strummed away at his harp, eyes scanning the crowd for Charity Case's yellow coat and orange mane, cringing internally at the several ponies with the exact same color scheme that ranged from creamy yellow, butter yellow, sun yellow, golden sun, sandy, lemon yellow, orangish-yellow, crayon yellow, tan, and blonde coats with manes that were fruit-orange, stained orange, reddish-orange, sun orange, hazy orange, carrot orange, and neon orange. Nandermane tried to push the creeping thoughts of dozens of Charity Cases watching him and the rest of the group while mentally kicking himself for not asking the cutie mark and a more exact color scheme to match. At the end of their second song, Brass Beauty unscrewed the spit valve and dumped it, scanning the crowd for Charity Case, only to sigh-Ink said that his orange coat and yellow mane made it very easy to pick him out of a crowd, but she couldn't see any pony that fit the description. Fredrick played the first two notes to lead them into the next song as his metronome kept ticking away. Octavia felt elated that she was finally doing something outside of her house, in public, getting some fresh air.

'That house-' She mused, 'I've been locked up for far too long.' It was the only real thought she had between pieces before mentally switching into performance mode again. Ponies stomped and cheered during their rests, but the four music practitioners ignored it, waiting on small signals from each other-an ear twitch, a nod of the head, raising eyebrows- anything they could do to communicate to each other with the growing crowd of thirty ponies making it difficult to hear. At the end of their third set piece, they quickly dispersed, leaving the fountain in a state of shock as a final round of applause carried with them through their departure.

"They loved us!" Fredrick Horseshopin said, looking back over his shoulder- a few ponies were looking for them, and a majority of the crowd was still slowly filtering their way back into the market.

"Did anypony see Charity Case?" Brass Beauty asked, the others shook their heads.

"Even if he wasn't there, we'll still be the talk of Canterlot by tomorrow morning." Octavia said, glimmer's of hope shone through their eyes after she spoke, drawing smiles as they all imagined the next day.

"We'll be on every pony's lips, four learned musicians, playing classical songs in the middle of Canterlot Market? I guarantee that tomorrow, the less practiced will be swarming that fountain tomorrow, hoping to catch our coat tails." Fredrick said.

"What now?" Octavia asked, Parish spent a second thinking about anyplace nearby.

"There's a new hole in the wall call 'Root Works', not far from here. This place has everything- all the chairs are carved from a single tree, the bartender is secretly Princess Cadence, and the twittermite colas are to die for."

"What's a twittermite cola?" Fredrick asked.

"This hot new club uses sphereification to encase twittermites into iced cola balls. With a straight pour down of rum, this drink will jolt you awake and take the edge off things at the same time." Parish pitched the idea, the other ponies were hesitant towards trying it.

"Or for something more wholesome, anyone care for tea at my place?" Octavia offered.

"I'd love to, but I do have a long walk home-this piano isn't going to wheel itself." Fredrick said, politely declining.

"Maybe after I drop my tuba off, I'll swing by." Brass Beauty said, her back legs were

"I hate to decline, but you're the only one with an instrument that doesn't weigh as much as we do." Parish said, the case for his harp was larger than he was, and the shape made it very awkward to carry.

"Well then, Parish, Fredrick, thank you for inviting me out to play, it was wonderful playing with you. Brass, pop by anytime you want, and bring along Ink, she still deserves our appreciation for the tip about Charity Case."

"That's very nice of you, Octavia. Oh shoot-I haven't even thought about dinner." Brass Beauty said, looking around the market place for a hot plate of food.

"I'll probably end up grabbing a few ingredients from here, and make something at home." Octavia said.

"You have enough time in your day to make dinner?" Fredrick teased. "I think the last time i used my kitchen...I burnt the water I was boiling?" he ventured, trying to remember the details of his last attempt at cooking.

"My culinary skills range beyond instant oats, and toast. I'm thinking about a rice stall we passed by, and maybe picking up some basmati, cabbage, and a few of those big portobello mushrooms." Octavia said, "Oh, and then drizzle an aioli with green onions, garlic, and apple cider vinegar on top." The other musicians looked at Octavia as if she sprouted another cutie mark in cooking.

"That sounds better than everything I have in my pantry." Fredrick said, "I might be persuaded to try a plate of that, if you're offering and need me to bring anything."

Octavia only thought about it for a brief moment, making friends with food is better than making a meal by herself and reading all night. "Bring Chardonnay, it pairs nicely with the flavor profile." She said to Fredrick.

"Sounds like I'll definitely have to swing by, anything you want me to bring?" Brass Beauty eagerly asked, Octavia thought back on how she might prepare dinner.

"Well, let's see, I do need an extra vegetable, how about raw brussle sprouts? I know a quick recipe that you can help me with." Octavia said, Parish frowned, looking to his harp and feeling left out.

"You're planning a dinner party, like I'm not even here? Octavia, what do you want me to bring?" Parish straight-up asked her. Octavia could see Parish's excitement for a socializing opportunity growing, and decided to play with it by being indecisive. "If you really wanted to come...let me think...hmm...you could bring-wait, no, I already have that." Octavia pondered for another moment, casting glances at Parish the entire time. He was on the edge of his hooves, eager to zip halfway across Equestria and back in time for the get-together if need be.

"Do you have any vinyl albums?" She asked, Parish's cheeks grew red.

"She's my favorite artist!" He said excitedly, "Of course I do!" He tried to recover.

"Then bring a few over, let's hear what the harp player listens to in his spare time." she said, Parish's eyes lit up as he nodded his head. "I'll be over as soon as I can." he said, moving his harp into the black case.

"Octavia, where is your house?" Brass Beauty asked, realizing that only one of them knew where Octavia resided..-p-pp.

"North east, Parish knows, Limestone district, it's white, not much of a front yard, the small iron gate, big concrete wall. Very modernistic. Big windows, it's the the third house on the left after coming to Mercury and 5th if you're walking up from the market place. It's about a twenty minute walk from here. Don't forget to bring Ink."

Forty-five minutes later, Octavia opened the door to her home and welcomed in Fredrick. He smiled as he entered, deeply smelling the crushed garlic and parsley in the air. He extended the bottle of Chardonnay to Octavia, her mouth drew in as she suddenly realized that she might have a higher income than the rest of her fellow musicians, being paid a double salary-one involves picking up after a socially dependent, extroverted mare and being paid a months salary in an hour, and there were a few times it took all day to clean up-especially when she moved in.

Then she remembered that Fredrick's house was exceptionally large to accommodate a small theater of twenty ponies, and he owned two pianos and one organ- Fredrick was just being cheap. "A good year for grapes," Octavia commented, "I don't believe I've tried this brand. Come on in."

She lead him to the kitchen, the island with the stove top faced the counter lined with thin steel framed chairs with black felt material. Octavia set the wine in a bowl of ice, "Nice place." Fredrick said, "Need any help?"

"Rice is cooking, how about slicing cabbage? I'm just waiting on Brass Beauty to arrive with the brussle sprouts, and the portobellos will only take a few minutes."

Fredrick came around the counter, stepping up to the cutting board Octavia set in front of him. "As thin as possible," She said, reaching into the refrigerator to grab the cabbage. Slicing it right down the center, she placed half of it to the side and demonstrated the cut Octavia wanted.

Everything Fredrick cut went into another bowl as Octavia checked the oven temperature at 165 C, then she went back to crushing garlic and mincing fresh dill weed so thin, that it was nearly a paste. "What are you preparing there?"

"A garlic, parsley, and dill aioli, I whipped the olive oil and egg yolks into a mayonnaise and then added the herbs."

"Do you cook for yourself like this on a regular basis?"

"Healthy living and being independent." She said, "Yes, it's a chore, but when I can sit down and eat something that is actually filling, it really helps finish out my day."

Parish rapped his hoof twice against the door, pushing it open with a loud "Hello?"

"Come in! We're in the kitchen." Octavia called out. Parish strolled in, brandishing a box of records and two bottles of Chardonnay on his back.

"I grabbed some more wine from my own shelf, anyone else thirsty?" He showed the label towards Octavia and Fredrick, and she smiled more than he did. Parish noticed Fredrick's wine and raised an eyebrow, Octavia pointed twice at Fredrick and mouthed 'Thank you'.

"Hold off before you open them, Ink and Brass Beauty haven't arrived yet." Octavia said, "I set the record player in the living room, if that's where you want to set your things down, feel free to put anything on, I trust you have a good taste in music." Fredrick snorted, stifling a quick laugh.

"That's funny Octavia, almost as funny as Fredrick's taste in wine." Parish teased.

"My wine isn't funny! It's got great flavor." He argued, pointing the tip of his knife at Parish.

"Is that what the advertizement above the wine said at the discount store?" Parish asked, he browsed through his record collection and stopped at one with a print of Vinyl's cutie mark, and kept looking before deciding upon a smooth jazz record; good for background noise at a small dinner party.

"Ha. Ha, Mr. and Mrs. Wine Snobs." Fredrick said, he set down the knife and went to his bottle of wine and peeled off the wrapper. "It tastes perfectly fine. Let's prove it. Octavia? Where are your glasses?"

Octavia pulled three glasses out and set them on the counter, "If you want to let it breath, I have a decanter." Fredrick looked across the kitchen to Octavia, holding an oddly shaped and bulbous glass wine pitcher, and then to the label of his wine-

"It should be all right without the decanter." He said, "Do you have a wine key?" Octavia searched through two drawers before finding it, Parish returned from the living room with music playing behind him and sat at the counter.

"So how did you manage to snag this place?" Parish asked, glancing at the prep work being done.

"Vinyl and myself were..." Octavia paused for a moment, and drew a blank stare as she tried to remember the day she signed the lease and moved in. "Vinyl bought this house originally, and she needed someone to keep an eye on things while she was off touring-or just not here- and I convinced her to let me rent out the guest bedroom."

"Are you friends with her? For her to let you stay here like that?" Parish asked.

"I wish I could say more, but there really isn't anything else to the story. Vinyl definitely likes having a place to come back to, someplace that is away from the parties, the fast life, mates, drama, stress, and if anything, she comes here to recover~ and if Vinyl needs something, I'll probably be the one to go-" Octavia was only distracted by the knocking of hooves against her door, "-to go out and grab it-Come in!" She poured a good amount of Fredricks wine onto the portobello mushrooms and looked to the front door, waiting for the handle to turn. A second round of knocking made her set down the bottle and skip to the front door. Octavia smiled, opening the door for Brass Beauty-and to her right- Ink.

Brass Beauty drew in a breath before Octavia could welcome the pair inside- Her head bobbed in back and forth between Octavia and Ink, her pitch was antsy as she leaned on the "Sorry we're late- I grabbed the brussel sprouts, and then I went to Ink, and she-" Brass Beauty jerked her head to Ink and bit her lip, trying to hold back her excitement.

Ink encouraged her with a nod. "Tell her." Brass squeed, and jumped on the tips of her hooves.

"Are Nander and Parish here?" She asked, looking around the foyer, her eyes widened at build of the contemporary residence.

"In the kitchen, darling." Parish called out, head popping around the corner to greet Brass and Ink.

"Octavia, this is Ink, Ink, Octavia- now come on!" She said, dragging Ink inside. Octavia looked down at Ink's cutie mark of two pieces of paper with a quill dripping black ink onto them, and her roan style coat. The front half of her body was white, speckled to red on the lower half of her body. Her red mane was slightly darker than the red from her barrel down. Brass pushed her head into Octavia's ribcage to get her to move faster as they all converged on the kitchen. Brass only stopped for a moment to give Octavia the bag of fresh brussle sprouts before taking in a massive breath to calm her nerves.

"Charity's coming. Here. And everyone, this is my BFF, Ink. The only one you haven't met is Fredrick." Brass said, the other three musicians grinned and shared expressions of shock, relief, and excitement. Brass gestured with her head at Ink so that she could fill in the rest of the story.

"Hi Parish; nice to meet you, Fredrick. After your performance in the market, Charity Case came straight to me and asked me where I could find them-the four of you ran off pretty quickly after the set and he didn't get a chance to speak with you face to face."

"So...does that mean we're playing the Gala?" Fredrick venturing a guess.

"You four are the only ones who Charity specifically asked me to track down." She said with a grin. "Brass Beauty walked in less than a minute later after he arrived, and she told him everything. He said he would be right behind us, and that he needed to run home for just a moment before coming here." Each musician swallowed the lump of excitement in their throat and tried speaking up.

"And he wants to hear Octavia play the cello." Octavia rolled her head up towards Ink as if she were just blindsided, 'Repeat that again?' Octavia meant to ask-but her voice rose to a pitch inaudible for ponies to hear. The others looked at her as if she just sprouted wings and a horn. Octavia's every fiber wanted to scream in joy, but the only noise that managed to escape were small gasping, choking sounds like a fish out of water would make.

She knit her eyebrows, trying to think of how or why Charity Case knew about her cello skills, when she was playing the violin during the market performance; why would Charity ask her to play the cello anyway?

"Don't worry, I totally geeked out after we left Ink's, I nearly kissed him when he said he wanted to meet all of us." Brass Beauty said.

Octavia recovered after Brass's comment, "I believe I left my cello upstairs, who would care for a tour of the house?"

Octavia led the crew around the ground floor, up the stairs and letting everypony peek inside Vinyl's room, then leading them through her room while picking up her cello, into the master bathroom, then back downstairs past the office which was a glorified storage room filled with filing cabinets packed with receipts, forms, posters, documents, even a few drawers were solely filled with autographs-pictures, CDs, and letters to and from fans. Octavia ventured a guess that given enough time, anypony could follow the complete paper trail on Vinyl and find out where she's been, what she's bought, who she's played for, and things she's eaten for the last five years. Letting them explore the living room, the wine cooler, and outdoor deck. With a flick of a switch, Octavia turned on the outside fireplace while everypony took a grand look over the valley, "Hell of a view, Octavia." Parish said,

"There's just one more room I haven't shown you, but that bit of fun comes later." Octavia said. Parish snickered to himself, but nopony took notice.

"It's a very nice view," Brass Beauty said, her eyes were following a train heading due north, the light coming from the cars and the headbeams shining out from the front made the train easier to spot, but it was the moonlight reflecting off of the metal siding that let Brass pick out the train from such a distance. It was loaded with workers, rails, pylons, and digging equipment to cut through the snow and lay track.

"Excuse me for a moment while I start the sprouts, dinner should be ready in ten." Going over to the wall, Octavia checked the four switches on the wall to see which one had the desired effect of making the outside deck brighter and more inviting, then she moved inside. Quickly quartering Brass Beauty's brussel sprouts, Octavia cut away and discarded the cores, rinsed the leaves, and tossed them in a metal bowl with coconut oil, spices, and a light dusting of chili powder. Into the oven they went while she placed six glass blue plates stacked neatly on the counter, Octavia cooked off the portobello mushrooms and pulled corn tortillas from the warming drawer by her hooves, pushing it shut with a nudge. Gently easing the hot pot filled with basmati rice out of the cooker with her teeth; biting into a hot pad, Octavia placed a plastic serving spoon inside and covered it with aluminum foil.

"What do you think of Octavia?" asked Brass Beauty, both she and Fredrick were leaned against the deck railing overlooking Equestria and the tiers of Canterlot.

"She's nice, deftly skilled with the cello and violin, and I think this is the most I've ever heard her talk." Fredrick replied, looking down at the ground below the deck.

"That's what I think too, she's a great musician, but I don't get where this whole nice thing is coming from. It's like a completely different vibe then when she's at practice. Octavia's always so set in stone, and she's never done anything like this."

"It's called making friends, bitch Parish sung, Brass gasped at his accusation. "The reason she's trying to be nice is because we invited her to play with us, she did, she liked it, and now she wants to show her appreciation. An odd concept, I know, is anyone in Canterlot familiar with the term?" He paused for a moment, looking over his shoulder at Octavia and Ink, chatting. "If you're tired of putting on a fake smile, instead of a genuine one because you can't stand the thought of somepony doing something for you out of the goodness of their heart, then go."

"Parish, I was having a priva-"

"Private conversation," Parish finished for her, ignoring Brass's protests. "Or is your private conversation about Octavia's reserved answers about her life? Let me ask you this," Parish's voice changed pitch to a positive note. "How did you make all your money? What's your love life like? Stallion, mare? Come on now, I want all the juicy details. Are they famous? Can I meet them? How did you get to be so lucky?" Parish finished his line of questioning before switching back to his more aggressive voice. "Of course she didn't talk about her relationship with Vinyl, whether it's more complex than roommates or not, they're personal questions. Should we have asked them? No. Did we? Yes. If you were dating a celebrity, would you tell anyone? Living in their house? Reporters would be swarming this house like flies on shit. Now I'll keep the rest of my speculations to myself, as should you." He said, walking back inside.

"Octavia." Ink said, Brass Beauty and Fredrick were still outside, Parish was browsing through his collection for another record to put on. Octavia set down the slaw and aioli next to the rice and turned her attention to Ink, she was quick to notice that Ink nor Brass had a drink in their hooves.

"Ink, would you care for something to drink? Parish brought along a fine Chardonnay, I can only have a nip right now, or I have a few other drinks in the fridge-water, tea, juice, a few ales- want to try a brass donkey?"

Ink shook her head, "Not right now, I wanted to ask you something. Brass said that you wanted me to come?"

"Yes, of course! I thought that since you gave us a small tip that Charity Case was going to be in Canterlot Market, and since we've interested him enough into meeting us, that you should at least get credit and our thanks." Octavia said, pulling the portobellos from the stovetop. She sliced them into strips as Ink held her breath tentatively.

"Do you know why Charity Case was shopping in the Canterlot Market today?" Ink asked, "Why he suddenly decided to do this on his own rather than send somepony out to do it for him, like me?" Ink pressed, Octavia set the portobello strips in a bowl and grimaced while trying to think of an answer.

"If he didn't send you out, then he must've wanted to shop for something particular, or a special gift, or something more private." Octavia replied, she looked over the spread of food, and the counter separating her from Ink.

"You're right about the gift, but as for the reason why-..." Octavia waited on Ink's next word, only to see her pause. "It was because of something you and your roommate said."

"Vinyl? Me? When? What did we say?" She asked,

"I've spoken with Charity twice today, once around two, the next around seven before Brass Beauty arrived, and I'm only asking this because I'm a little out of the loop on Charity's attitude towards you, but what happened at the Birch Bark?"

Octavia blinked back her confusion, "The Birch Bark? I haven't...I haven't been there in ages. I've only been there three times, and none of them were with Charity Case." Octavia explained, Ink's lips quivered.

"It was this afternoon, around one-ish? You and Charity, his wife, Stellar Ball, and Rain Dance?" Octavia was silent for a moment as her neck craned back towards the refrigerator, the knife fell from her hoof onto the cutting board, only making a small clatter as Octavia pulled open the door, ignoring Ink's inquisitiveness, and grabbing the bottle of anti-biotics from the side. Her eyes bugged at the one word that was underlined twice with black pen- 'Sleepiness'.

Ink's gaze tuned from Octavia, to the medicine bottle in her hooves- "Octavia?" She asked, the mare looked up, a blank expression on her face-

"I can't remember anything about this morning." She said, her face tried to convey humor for the irony of the situation, or shock from not being able to remember; what muscles responded contorted her smile into a look of plea, begging to know what she said only hours ago.

Ink was surprised as Octavia, now focused on the medication Octavia set back into the refrigerator, and closed shut. "Are you okay?" she asked, Octavia quietly nodded.

"...I don't know..." She said fruitlessly, trying to come up with a possible scenario for the missing memories and what happened during them. Jogging around the park she could rationalize about forgetting, but to completely draw a blank when it came to arranging something at the Birch Bark and meeting Charity Case with his family all in one day? The gap made her head hurt, and she craved water.

"Are you okay?" Ink asked again, she quickly looked over her shoulder to Brass and Fredrick walking through the living room towards them.

"I'm drawing a massive blank in my head, I'm shaking-I can't remember what happened this morning." Octavia said, her tail flicked out twice to each side, showing only a hint of her nervousness. "I know I went jogging, and...everything was crossed off..." Octavia couldn't help but let her thoughts drift.

Ink rethought her approach, "Octavia-were those pills..." The comment snapped Octavia back into reality.

"Pills?" She shook her head, casting out all the cluttering thoughts. "No, those are just anti-biotics...nothing serious but my doctor said they were strong...and I can't help but wonder if it caused a minor lapse." she finally said, feeling off thrown off balance. "Could you please tell everyone that dinner is ready? I'm going to run upstairs for just a moment." Her heart fluttered like a hummingbird, as she briskly trotted up the stairs and to Vinyl's bedroom, throwing open the door.

"Vinyl?" She called out. The bed was hastily made, but there wasn't any sign that Vinyl had slept on it recently. The equipment stacked around the room was turned off and even the balcony door was locked. Think, where could she be? Then it occurred to her-the basement. But, before she went back downstairs, Octavia eased the growing tension in her skull by drinking a glass of tap water from the bathroom. Sighing as she looked in the mirror, it felt like in the past two minutes she ran a marathon, but the only thing out of place were the rings around her eyes. The hairs on her neck decided to stand up a moment before the double chime of the doorbell rang out through the entire house.

Octavia could feel her eyes dilate-excitement, anxiety, stress, curiosity, and elation crashed over her in waves. She rubbed both of her eyes, trying to look more awake and presentable as she moved downstairs and to the front door. Swallowing twice, then clearing her throat, Octavia put on her best smile and pulled on the handle, easing it open as Charity Case stood firmly on the front porch, he was breathing slightly heavier than normal, but he had one thing held out in front of him- Vinyl's glasses.