Same Song, Second Verse

by Revenant Wings

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Other, Romance, Noteworthy, Octavia
Length: 34023

After a harsh breakup with her former partner, Octavia moves away to Ponyville to try and restart her life. But old wounds aren't so easily healed when someone new yet familiar comes into her life. (Octavia x Neon Lights.)

Octavia’s relationship with her partner was once a paradise. But now, dissimilarities run rampant; they don’t like the same things and conversations that work tend to be repeats of the old ones. When Octavia finds fault with her partner's behavior towards their one-year anniversary and a friend suggests moving to a nearby small town to get her mind off things, Octavia soon jumps at the chance and finds a place in Ponyville.

But some wounds aren’t healed so easily, some hearts hold on to things for longer, and first impressions can be the hardest to break. Especially when Octavia finds someone who reminds her a little much of what once was a near perfect life.

Octavia x Neon Lights with slow buildup.

Thank you to Ceffyl Dwr for prereading, editing, and advice.

Started before "Slice of Life".

Published 2015-10-25 00:00:02 UTC
Last updated 2016-06-06 09:16:49 UTC

Chapter 1 - The Odd Couple

The theater sat in awe as the sound of a cello weaved throughout the hall. The notes rose and fell and meandered through the auditorium in scintillating waves, the haunting melody holding the audience captive. The spell of the notes persisted even to outside, where ponies passing by would stop for a moment until the notes faded away.

The cellist was not alone on stage. A small orchestra played behind her, including ten strings, five woodwinds, five brass instruments, a percussionist, and a piano. They played their own separate pieces, letting the notes of the cello guide them and lead them onward in addition to slowly weaving its way through their midst.

The cellist was a refined grey mare with a neatly brushed mane and wearing a pink bow tie. Four pieces of sheet music were arranged on a sheet in front of her, yet her eyes were closed and she paid little attention to them. Her bow rocked and swayed expertly back and forth across the cello’s strings – strapped and held in place neatly to her hoof – as she herself let the notes guide her playing. The note of a treble clef at her hip stood clearly out to the audience as she propped herself up on her back legs, using one hoof to steady the top of the cello.

It wasn’t long before the notes started to become faster. The members of the orchestra behind the cellist began to focus harder to keep time with the ever-increasing speed. The cellist’s eyes, despite being closed, took on a more concentrated look, squinting with increased determination as she steadily kept time. As the piece rose to a crescendo, the cellist’s hoof and bow blazed along the strings as though she hardly needed to put effort in it, the orchestra following her lead and keeping calm despite the piece's increasing frenzy.

The piece rose to a stunning pitch and vibrant thunder throughout the hall before ending in a sudden note that blasted the audience back in their seats before coming to a stop. After a few moments for the audience to recover, the cellist played again, starting quietly and from a simple, lighthearted tune, swelling gently to a peaceful rise before slowly lowering itself back down and ending on a long fading note, coinciding with the dimming of the lights as the piece came to its end.

The hall was silent for a time before it broke out into applause. The lights came back up and the mare and her companions in the orchestra gently bowed in place and waved to the audience. The conductor turned around and gave a bow himself and began thanking the audience for coming out that evening. After a moment, the curtains slowly dropped down and the lights dimmed to a more reasonable light.

The grey mare slowly backed down on to a third hoof as an assistant from behind the stage came to take a hold of her cello. She gently unstrapped the bow from her hoof and helped the assistant to carry it to a case hidden just off stage. The cello was gently lowered into the case with the help of a unicorn and the mare closed the case.

“Will you need any help this evening, Octavia?” came a voice from behind the mare.

The mare turned around to see a brown earth pony stallion with a silvery mane and bright green eyes. Octavia smiled. “Thank you, Frederic, but I think I’ll be okay.” She walked over to the stand where her sheet music stood.

“If you insist,” Frederic shrugged, following her and heading to a stand over by the piano. “I know sometimes that one white unicorn is around to help you and noticed she wasn’t here.”

Octavia sighed and scowled. “She was supposed to be. But I don’t think she’ll be here tonight.”

“Oh…” Frederic looked around awkwardly, his eyes darting around awkwardly. “I-I’m sorry to hear that. Um… are you sure you don’t need the help?”

“No, I’ll be alright,” the mare said, resigned. “I just have the cello. It’s not much.”

Frederic nodded and allowed himself a small smile. “Look, you need any help, you have my address. Send a note and I’ll be around.”

“Thanks.” Octavia smiled at him. “I just think I need a little time away.”

Frederic tapped his chin with a hoof and thought about it. “I’ve heard there’s houses for rent in Ponyville. Little one bedroom cottages for not a lot per month. Matter of fact, might even be cheaper than apartments here. You could go there. It’s only forty or so minutes by train.”

Octavia perked her ears. “I’ve heard of that place before… I suppose it might be worth a look.”

Frederic shrugged. “It’s just a suggestion. And it might even be good for your muse to have a little time away like a sabbatical.”

Octavia nodded and walked away.

Outside the door was a large crowd of ponies; as soon as they saw Octavia come through the doors, they swarmed her with cameras and notebooks and pencils and pens and caused a clamor around her. The piece had been hers, and all were waiting to talk with the one who created the sensational act. Octavia smiled and dealt with each pony one by one, taking pictures with some and signing autographs for almost everyone.

"Excellent piece, Miss Octavia!" said one.

"Wonderful, absolutely wonderful!" said another.

"Such command of sound!" said a third. "Truly an excellent composer as well as a first-rate cellist!"

"Thank you all," Octavia said, proudly but refined, graceful, and genuinely appreciative. "And thank you for coming out to watch, most of all. It's ponies like you, who come to our performances and show your appreciation, that really makes both this piece and our whole orchestra who we really are. We can't have it if it weren't for such fine patrons as yourselves."

A few minutes later, the crowds dispersed having obtained the necessary photographs, autographs, and sound-bites. Octavia walked along through the streets, her cello hooked to a small wheeled stand she pulled via a yoke around her neck. The cello came easily behind her and it didn’t take much effort to pull it along Canterlot’s cobblestone streets.

The sun had just set beyond the horizon and a full moon was shining peacefully down. The lights came up in the streets and provided a gentle glow that lit the streets as Octavia walked away from the theater and down towards a small apartment complex in one of Canterlot’s nice sections.

Octavia walked up to the apartment and unlocked the door with a single hoof. She entered into a small lobby and walked into a garishly-furnished living room with all sorts of neon colors. She quickly moved past it to her room, a simple affair with a black and white motif, the only allowances to vanity being a music stand decorated with her purple treble clef cutie mark and a cubist piece of primary colors separated by black bars and squares along with a favored record player in a brilliant bronze.

Octavia set the cello down in her room and quietly went off to the kitchen. She took out a wine glass with a long stem, knelt down to a small fridge, and pulled out and poured herself a glass of a fine red wine. She sipped it luxuriously as she sat at one of the simple chairs in the kitchen.

Octavia looked out to the living room. There was a plain beige couch and a black coffee table with a glass surface. Those were the only two allowances she had made to the room. The carpet had been dyed neon blue, two bean bags had been placed in a bright orange and green, a shelving unit had a different bright color for each shelf, the walls painted either yellow or blue so bright it actually made her shield her eyes in the daylight and made it impossible to sleep at night.

Not far away was the bathroom. The shower tile had been done in bright blue, the glass door had been done in two panels of orange and green, the towels were all electric blues and greens and pinks, and the light had a multicolored shade around it that spun whenever the light turned on, dazzling Octavia whenever she turned it on. Not far away, a room with an almost permanently closed door held much of the same thing.

Octavia looked at a rather conservative clock on the kitchen wall. Ten minutes after eight in the evening. Her roommate wouldn’t be home for another hour or so if she was doing her usual route. Octavia finished the wine in two large gulps and let some tea steep as she cued up a classical record in her room. She adjusted the pillows, returned for a steaming cup of tea, and sat down with a book on the bed, sipping quietly as she read in silence.

It was the first hour of silence Octavia had in the last thirty-six hours. Octavia liked light noise; the sound of a classical record in the background, of quiet conversations going on around her, of wind and trees and birds and crickets. She had taken a liking to a café not far away, and she went there often when her roommate was not at work. It was the sounds of life she was used to, not of raucous noise that haunted her sleep if it let her sleep at all.

But now she basked in the dull glow of the wine relaxing her and of the quiet sounds of Bach and Mozart and Beethooven. Strings and brass gently unspooled in the background, and the quiet sounds of paper flipping as she read through an autobiography of a famous violinist from the Manehattan Symphony Orchestra calmed her and soothed her mind.

The record ended punctually at nine-fifteen. Barely had Octavia noticed the record scratching and the white noise playing throughout the room when she heard the front door fling open and the sound of boisterous laughter explode through the house. A voice came through, not even muffled by the closed door to Octavia’s bedroom.

“Oh, yeah! That was awesome! Hey, Tavi doesn’t like me having too much company over, so why don’t we head over to Trance Rhythm’s place tomorrow? Oh yeah, I’m sure she won’t mind. Yeah, and I’ll make sure to bring that one record with me. Alright, later!”

The front door closed with a bang. Octavia could hear her roommate coming through the house towards her room, humming as she went. She opened the door and launched herself into the room.

The mare had a wild electric blue mane, a white coat, and an eighth note for a cutie mark. A pair of gaudy violet shades blocked her light pink eyes, and a smile was plastered on her face showing two rows of white teeth.

“Hey, Tavi! How’d the concert go?”

Octavia put her book aside and sighed. “It went fine, Vinyl.”

“Cool! Oh man, I had so much fun at the Trotting Mare club today.”

Octavia sighed again and rolled off the bed. “Listen, Vinyl, I want to have a talk with you about that.”

Vinyl Scratch leaned up against the doorway of the bedroom. “Sure. Whatever you want to talk about, I’m all ears.”

“Well… I was debuting a new solo piece today and a new orchestral piece. I… I thought I gave you a ticket so you could be there. And I heard you meeting about going over to Trance Rhythm’s place tomorrow. He’s a nice guy and all, but… are you even listening to me!?”

While Octavia had been talking, Vinyl had started bobbing her head and humming again. While her eyes were looking in Octavia’s direction, the mare had gotten the feeling she wasn’t actually looking at her.

Vinyl stopped bobbing her head. “What? Yeah, I was. You were saying… uh…” She brought a hoof to her head and started scratching it.

“I was saying Trance was…”

“Hold on, hold on! I’ll get it in a minute!”

“Vinyl, just listen to me for one second instead of going off on some rhythm in your head!” Octavia had actually started shouting for a moment. She took a deep breath and started again, only slightly calmer. “Vinyl, I thought you remembered I had reservations for tomorrow at that one place for dinner.”

Vinyl stared at her blankly for a moment. “…what restaurant?”

“I told you! La Jument Petite at seven-thirty!”

“Why did you make reservations for dinner somewhere?”

“It’s our one year anniversary!”

For once, Vinyl’s look became serious. “Quit shouting at me like I forgot. I know it’s our one year anniversary, Tavi.”

“Then why did you make plans at our door to go to Trance Rhythm’s place tomorrow?”

“I was going to invite you along! You’re cool with him, and he’s cool with you. We’d go over to his place, have a few drinks, dance a little while, and they’d treat us to dinner. Trance said he’d be cool with that.”

“Vinyl… I can’t stand that place.”

“What’s so bad about it?”

“I wanted to spend somewhere… quieter. My new piece debuted today to nice acclaim. I wanted to celebrate that with you and our anniversary… alone.”

“You hole yourself up in your room with your cello all the time. Why can’t you let loose and have a little fun every once in a while?”

“Vinyl, you know as much as I do that I think that music is noise,” Octavia said forcefully.

“And you know as much as I do I can’t stand a dress or a suit and tie,” Vinyl spat back. “I like your music, but I honestly don’t like going to such a formal place. The ponies there are all bores.”

“They are not bores! They are educated, they are well-read, they are well-versed in culture!”

“Yeah, sure. Do you realize how many times you have the exact same conversation over and over again?”

“Vinyl…" Octavia tried to refute, but could find nothing. She started again. "The ponies you hang out with are too wild. I could stand it every couple of months. But I can’t constantly hang out with you. And when you blow off my invitation to a concert to see my piece debut, you’ve got to understand that it kind of hurts me.”

“What about the time I released an album, huh? I asked you to come with me to the signing and the party for it, but I couldn’t do a damn thing to convince you otherwise.”

“Because I had a practice session! It’s how I make money; I couldn’t skip a practice.”

“You go to practice all the time lately,” Vinyl said, her voice now gaining a venomous undertone. “You could have skipped one and they would have been fine with that.”

“Look, I’m not like you. I can’t just pick and choose which days I work.”

“Yeah, but you can take one day off. You keep talking about how much I don't support you, so what about when you don't support me? Am I supposed to not get mad about that? And about the restaurant, the food there is not my thing.”

“It’s haute cuisine!”

“Tavi, that place is nasty and the portions are tiny. And frankly it could stand to have a little excitement. I mean, the band is nice, but they don’t have any zip or pizzazz, like a synth or a drum in the background.”

“I don’t know what you call ‘zip’, but if it means the colors in the living room and bathroom, I think you need to rethink your idea of a palette.”

“It’s popular! Or, if you want to think about it, it’s modern art!”

“Is modern art designed to be blinding to the eye and that bright? Who designed it; Colorblind?”

“Oh! And what about you, wino? What about your room and the kitchen that have almost no color at all? By Celestia, they’re boring like that old Charlie Horse Chaplain video you like!”

“At least my breath doesn’t smell like three shots of coconut rum every night!”

“At least my music doesn’t sometimes sound out of tune.”

Octavia slapped Vinyl hard across the face, the slap sounding like glass shattering and causing the room to go into silence. Vinyl looked at Octavia with a look of surprised anger, and Octavia was snorting and her nostrils were flaring.

“Get out of my room!” Octavia growled. “I pay my portion of the rent, and we agreed this was my room. Get out. Get out!”

Vinyl rubbed her cheek for a moment. It was bright red and a small welt had appeared on it. “Fine. I’ll… I’ll go to Trance’s place without you.” And she turned around and left, closing the door behind her.

For a while, Octavia did nothing. She just stared at the closed door and the astounding amount of silence that came from the other side of it. That was soon broken by the sound of a thudding bass vibrating throughout the house. It nearly knocked her off her hooves, and she finally was spurred to move to the bed to sit and think.

While she wanted to think about other things – the next pieces she would have to practice, the next concert coming up, potentially writing another piece – the thudding bass pushed all other thoughts out of her mind. Something that had been resting on her mind for a long time, and after that last argument was unavoidable.

She had not known what drew her to Vinyl Scratch one night one year ago. Octavia had been heading out from one of her concerts and stopped at a local café for dinner; Vinyl had been sitting down at the table next to her. They both ordered the same thing for dinner and drink. They talked for a little bit, and she had also been into music and had also studied musical theory. Vinyl had invited her to a club to go dancing, and for some reason she agreed, figuring that’s what she needed.

Even that first time, the atmosphere and the energy scared her. It was such a stark contrast from the theater she had been in only two hours before. Two hours… in two hours she had gone from an evening alone with Bach to standing in the middle of a crowded nightclub with strobe lights and pulsing music, the bass beating in time with her heart.

That first time, it had given her a thrill. It was inexplicable to her, how she loved classical music and yet this was giving her the same sensations as a new fugue or orchestral piece. The beating of the bass pulsed through her and she had danced with Vinyl for Celestia knows how long. And then there was a trip to the club’s bar, where she had something that tasted like mango and strawberry, and talking with other ponies in voices she could barely make out over the noise.

By the time she finally returned home, it was one in the morning and she was more exhausted than she ever had been. She collapsed on the bed and fell sound asleep and didn’t even wake until it was nearly noon. When she woke up, her heart was still racing, and she found herself intrigued by the strange unicorn. She had brought a spark into her life that she hadn’t had before.

For seven months, life was bliss. They went out to lunch once a week, then out to dinner, then saw a movie, then started staying the nights at each other’s house, talking about music and music theory. By month four Octavia and Vinyl had bought their apartment, and Vinyl’s spark of color and unique design were a refreshing pace. For three months, life was a whirlwind of parties and cafés and clubs and theaters that Octavia had once only dreamed of, now made possible by Vinyl’s large circle of friends. For seven months, they came to every event of Octavia’s and Octavia made the time to go to the clubs whenever Vinyl was deejay-ing.

But one evening at a club after seven months, Octavia looked at her martini glass filled with mint and rum and vodka and soda water and began to wonder what she was doing there. The pounding bass felt like it was going to shatter her to pieces, starting with her ears and her heart. She left the club and found she couldn’t hear anything for about three seconds. She had to head home early, a taste like that of vomit in her throat and a definite nausea in her stomach.

The next time she went to the theater, Vinyl didn’t come. They went out to dinner a few weeks later and got into a passive-aggressive argument. Octavia began to skip out on club nights, the pastel coloring began to blind her, and the bass began to be painful and drowned out her thoughts and practices. They got into a more heated argument around month nine, and afterwards conversations about music felt like retreads… and nothing else matched up. Vinyl stopped coming to the theater around month ten, and Octavia quit coming to the club shortly afterwards. Around month eleven, they had stopped going to dinner. The last month had seen Octavia arrange her schedule so that she and Vinyl occupied the apartment so few times during the day, only tolerating each other when necessary.

And now… no conversation they had could end without something being spat at each other. They had stopped even going to lunch or cafés; the latter became a retreat for Octavia. They were cordoned off to pretty much their own rooms. They shared a bathroom out of necessity, but otherwise they refused to be in a room when the other was in it.

One year… one year of her life. And the last eight months living with her. At first it had been a dream, a series of events Octavia saw with others yet never imagined with herself. And now… now it was all falling out of her hooves.

Octavia pushed her front hooves into her face, trying to shut out the memories from returning to her. But after a while, she was just pushing her eyes closed and trying not to cry.

Octavia opened her door as quietly as possible. The bathroom door was open and Vinyl’s bedroom door was closed with strobe lights coming out from the space between the door and the carpet. Octavia quickly grabbed a towel and ran for the bathroom, turned on the shower, and sat in the shower and let it drown out her sobs.

For just a moment, the bass stopped pounding. Then it started up again as though oblivious to her pain.

Chapter 3 - Moving Day

Three and a half weeks later, a knock came at the door at nine in the morning.

Octavia, sitting at the counter and finishing a cup of tea, rinsed the glass and made her way for the door. The knock came again. “Coming, coming!” Octavia called as she quickened her pace towards the front door and opened it.

Frederic was there, along with a grey unicorn with black hair and blue eyes that Octavia recognized as her concertmaster and first-chair violinist, Arpeggio.

“Thank you both for coming,” Octavia said. “It’ll be easier since we’ve got a unicorn now as my roommate is… indisposed.”

Frederic and Arpeggio looked in at Vinyl Scratch sitting on the couch. She had on a pair of pink headphones with blue stars over each earpiece. A small thudding noise could be heard and she was staring off vacantly at the powered-down television sitting on a small table.

“She’ll be like that for an hour or so,” Octavia continued. “Anyways, we should get moving.”

“Figuratively and literally,” Frederic said. “Now, what do you have?”

Octavia led them to her room. Most of her things had been packed into boxes. Only four things stood free; a bed, a dresser, a shelving unit, and her cello.

“What do we do first?” Arpeggio asked. “I’d think the bed since it’s largest.”

“Vinyl can keep it,” Octavia said. “I found a new one down in Ponyville. It’ll be delivered the day after tomorrow. But we can go ahead and take the mattress and comforter first.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Arpeggio took up the mattress and comforter in a single cast from his horn and slowly levitated them up and out of the room. Octavia and Frederic went tandem on the dresser and followed Arpeggio through the apartment and out onto a landing. Arpeggio watched as Octavia and Frederic carefully maneuvered the dresser down the steps from the second floor to the street and followed with the mattress soon afterwards.

A medium-sized covered cart with a sign saying “Canterlot-Ponyville Rail Transport” stood in the street, attached to a large dark-brown earth pony stallion with a blue-and-white cap and a red bandana tied around his neck. A bag of oats was around his face and he was eating from it serenely and didn’t even mind the shifting of weight as Arpeggio placed the mattress inside. This was soon followed by him taking the dresser in his magic and slowly maneuvering it inside, as well.

For the better portion of an hour, they continued this way. The large items and furniture were loaded in first. Next came the heavier boxes filling the final areas of the bottom of the cart. Next came some lighter boxes, and finally a few carefully wrapped valuables and heirlooms Octavia had received from her mother. At this point the cart was very nearly full. Octavia went back inside, and she combed her room and the kitchen with Frederic and Arpeggio looking for anything that she might have missed.

When she was sure that no stone was left unturned and no drawer had been left unchecked, Octavia took her key and set it on the kitchen counter. She took one more look at the apartment and at Vinyl, who, she realized no longer had the bass thudding in her ear.

There were so many happy memories here, and yet in the past few months there had been almost as much frustration. Here was her first major party that Vinyl had helped set up. Here was the first time that she and Vinyl had gone to bed together. Over there was the stain from when Octavia had danced and spilled an orange drink, but she fell over laughing because Vinyl looked like she'd dyed her hair orange, and Octavia had joked that she was finally able to go into a club and not feel out of place.

And there was their first fight, at the kitchen counter over a gaudy lamp that Vinyl wanted to put in. There was the first time they had escalated to shouting, over Vinyl and some of her friends playing music when Octavia was trying to practice even though it had been lowered so much already. There was the prank that cost Octavia an hour at practice trying to remove silly string from her mane.

As she turned around to leave, Octavia wondered if some of those weren't her fault for being so tightly wound. She took a deep breath, steeled herself, and began to walk out the door.

“Tavi, wait.”

Octavia turned back around. Vinyl was standing behind to her. The headphones were around her neck, and her face was clear of glasses. She looked at Octavia almost impassively for a long time, then sighed and her face turned into a frown.

“Good luck, I guess.”

Octavia wasn’t sure where this was going. “Thanks.”

“Will I see you around?” Vinyl said after a long silence.

“I’ll be in town for practices a few times a month. And maybe to visit sometimes.”

Vinyl nodded. “Maybe not, then.”

“Not unless we go out of our way.”

Vinyl’s short laugh was weak and almost scornful. “Don’t know about that anytime soon.”

“I kind of figured that.”

Vinyl’s face turned into a small smile that seemed to barely hang on. “Well… hope things turn out well for you in Ponyville.”

Octavia nodded. “I’ll see you around.”

Vinyl held out a hoof. Octavia held out her own hoof, wondering if it would be some sort of final prank, when Vinyl took a step forward and wrapped the hoof around her in a hug. For a moment, Octavia was surprised by the gesture. But soon she wrapped her own hoof around Vinyl and hugged her back. For all her faults, the unicorn really did care about her.

Vinyl released Octavia for a moment. "Until we meet again," she said, and walked off.

Octavia waited a moment longer and watched Vinyl go off to her room before finally walking out the door. She took a deep breath, sighed, and walked down the steps to where Frederic and Arpeggio were waiting at the bottom of the steps.

“You are going to come back sometimes, right?” Frederic asked. “We’ll be missing you up here, you know.”

“And we can’t have our first-chair cellist leave so soon,” Arpeggio added. “We’ll have a right difficult time fixing that mess.”

“I’m not leaving Canterlot entirely,” Octavia said. “I’ll be able to catch a train here and back. I’ll be here for practices, concerts, and the occasional gala or other sort of soiree.”

“It’s still a pity you’re leaving the city, though,” Arpeggio said. “I’ll miss seeing you around at the cafés.”

“And the bookstores,” Frederic agreed. “One of the staples of the music section is skipping town. I understand, though. Take some time to yourself and ease off some of the stress before you come back. The next concert isn’t for four months.”

“Thank you, both of you. Arpeggio, keep me in the loop; I’ll still be able to practice. Frederic, tell Noteworthy that I said goodbye and that I wish you both the best of luck.”

“He’ll be glad to know,” Frederic said. “We’ll make sure to keep in touch, either by phone or by letter if Ponyville is that rustic.”

Octavia laughed. “I’ll have a phone. I can’t be that stranded from you all.”

Frederic and Arpeggio waved to Octavia and walked away. Octavia walked over to the brown stallion at the front of the cart.

“Promontory, is it? I’m ready now. Let’s head for the station.”

The stallion nodded and set off at a walk. Octavia kept pace beside him as they slowly maneuvered through the streets. Promontory seemed to know a few shortcuts, and they were very quickly at the station where a cheery train met them at the platform, steam gently hissing from the engine and Welcome Abode waiting at the entrance of one of the freight cars at the train’s back half.

“Over here, Promontory!” Abode called. “We’re ready to secure.”

Promontory walked over to where Welcome Abode was waiting. A ramp was brought out from the car and slowly lowered onto the platform. Promontory carefully moved the cart so he could back in and took careful steps back into the boxcar. When the cart was in position, Welcome Abode helped unstrap him from the cart and the two worked together to secure the cart to the side of the car with numerous buckles and straps.

“Alright,” Welcome Abode said. “That should do until we hit Ponyville. Promontory here will make sure nothing gets damaged. He’s our representative on this railroad; you’re in good hooves.”

Promontory raised his head up proudly.

The engine let off a shrill whistle. Promontory headed into the boxcar as Octavia followed Welcome Abode into the passenger car in front of it. Abode picked a nice compartment with a fine wood table in between two plush upholstered seats and sat down, Octavia taking the seat opposite her.

No sooner was Octavia seated than the train gave another whistle and began slowly moving away from the platform and the station. The crowded buildings and overcast skies of Canterlot began to crawl by and Octavia felt a sort of thrill. It was almost strange, watching the past so visibly move behind her as it was through the windows of the train car.

“Excited?” Welcome Abode said. “I know the feeling. I used to come from Manehattan. It’s a big change, but I promise you’ll enjoy it.”

“It’s still doesn’t feel real,” Octavia said. “Like I’m afraid I’ll wake up tomorrow and find out I’m dreaming and none of it actually happened.”

“Oh, it’ll be real.” Welcome Abode smiled gently. “You’ll know it when you wake up in the new place tomorrow. Now, you’re payment was accepted, so all we need now is a few signatures and you’ll be good to go. It’ll take away some of the butterflies if we’re working on this, too.”

For thirty-five minutes, Octavia was guided through multiple pieces of paperwork; rental agreements, payment information, bank financing through which the rent was gotten down to 775 bits a month, cleaning and mail services, change of address. Octavia initialed the papers dozens of times as Welcome Abode guided her through every step of the process.

By the time the final signature was placed and Welcome Abode was shaking hooves with Octavia for finalizing the rent on the house, the announcer over the P.A. system was saying they had five minutes left before Ponyville.

Octavia and Welcome Abode gathered themselves up as the train began to slow down. They talked pleasantly and headed over to the door as the train slowed down and gently steamed into the Ponyville station. A porter came and opened the door and Welcome Abode and Octavia gently stepped down onto the platform. Abode led the way to the boxcar where Promontory was already undoing the buckles and straps on the cart. A quick check to make sure nothing was damaged, then Promontory was attached to the cart and they began walking through Ponyville to the house at the edges of town.

The house was bright and sparkling. The walls were completely white and clean and the dark oak looked like it had been expertly polished. Welcome Abode officially handed over the keys to Octavia, and Octavia was allowed to unlock the door and take the first steps into her new house.

It hadn’t changed a bit. The place was still as charming as ever, and Octavia still loved the vaulted ceiling in the main room, the polished tile in the kitchen, the guest bedroom leading into the back sunroom, and the wide, airy feeling of her own bedroom. Already a fine oak frame with a semi-ornate headboard was placed inside.

The only difference was a tray of sandwiches, a tin of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies, and a jar of a weak apple cider.

“A welcome gift,” Welcome Abode said. “From Ponyville. The sandwiches were brought from a sandwich shop called Grinder’s Subs, the cider from Sweet Apple Acres, and the cookies are from Sugarcube Corner. Two dozen, I believe.”

“It’s excellent,” Octavia said.

Without delay, they started unpacking the cart. Which was a lot slower without a unicorn helping them out, Octavia reflected.

The heirlooms were brought in box by box as they went from Promontory to Welcome Abode to Octavia. Then came some of the lighter boxes, then came the furniture. The dresser came in with just Octavia and Welcome Abode working together. Then came the mattress, which required Promontory’s help so the giant, queen-sized mattress didn’t fall over onto anything or scrape against the walls.

But the shelving unit was outright murder.

The cart was parked on a small landing. From there, a set of steps went up to the porch and portico that marked the entrance of the house. It wasn’t quite a flight, but still a long way up. The problem was enhanced by the shelving unit, a large thing as wide as Octavia was long and twice as high as she was. It was made of a light balsa wood reinforced by metal and stronger oak and pine, but its size made it unwieldy.

Promontory started pushing it out of the cart. Octavia tried lifting one end herself, but found it difficult to balance. So Welcome Abode came up alongside her to help balance the weight and they managed to stabilized it. But as soon as it left the cart Promontory was alone on one side and there wasn’t another pony helping them.

“You got a hold of it?” Welcome Abode called to Promontory.

Promontory nodded and looked at Octavia.

Octavia nodded back. “Alright. Take it slowly…”

They had barely made it to the steps and had to stop to rebalance the shelves. Every step they took made the shelving unit sway and lurch, and turning it so that Promontory’s back was to the staircase almost caused it to fall over if it wasn’t for Octavia quickly going over to place both hooves at the back.

Octavia had readjusted herself to Abode’s side when a voice called out.

“Hey! You need help up there?”

Octavia looked over to the sound of the voice. To the right of the house and at the bottom of the hill, a young male unicorn had just stepped out. He had a teal-gray coat, a dark gray mane, friendly blue eyes, and a cutie mark of three white stars. He wore what looked like was a black collared shirt and a bright blue tie that was almost white. A pair of white cuffs peeked out from under the sleeves of his shirt on his front hooves.

“We’re good, Neon,” Welcome Abode said. “We got this. Alright, everypony. Let’s try this again…”

“Are you sure?” The unicorn approached them as they started up the steps.

“We got this,” Octavia said. “Hey, slow down!”

But it was too late. Octavia was rushed up the first step and caught her hoof at the edge of the second step. The hoof slipped easily and quickly and Octavia started to fall forwards, screaming out. The weight balance became shifted and Welcome Abode suddenly found the shelving unit falling forwards and out of her grasp. Promontory strengthened his grip, but it wasn’t enough and the unit began to fall over.

But before too much damage could be done, the shelving unit was engulfed in a bright blue aura and halted in its tracks. The unicorn had deftly caught the unit and was gently righting it again.

“How about I take this?” he said with a smile.

Octavia, thankful for the help, allowed the unicorn to help out. She directed him into the large main room and over to one of the walls by the fireplace.

Octavia sighed. “Thanks.”

The unicorn nodded. “No problem,” he said. “You need any more help?”

Octavia shrugged. “There’s not much, but I guess it’s appreciated.”

The unicorn gladly helped them fish the rest of the stuff out of the cart and was able to take the heavier boxes with ease. Promontory helped him a bit with the heavy boxes while Octavia and Welcome Abode got the lighter ones, and with the four of them working everything was in the house in under half an hour.

“Well, I’ve got to go to work,” the unicorn said when all the boxes had been inserted into the main room of the house. “Hate to break things off early; I was just on lunch break at the time.”

“It’s alright, Neon,” Welcome Abode said. “Thanks for the help.”

“Don’t mention it.” The unicorn turned to Octavia. “You need help moving anything else, come over and let me know. I’m just at the bottom of the hill if you need anything.”

Octavia nodded. “Sure.”

The unicorn smiled, gave a small easy-going salute, and trotted off.

“There’s Ponyville hospitality for you!” Welcome Abode said. “It’s quite normal for stuff like that to happen. He’s a good colt.”

“Seems like it,” Octavia mused.

The sandwiches were remembered and Octavia sat down with Welcome Abode and Promontory to a delicious lunch of tomato, daisy, and daffodil sandwiches, still warm chocolate chip cookies, and a fine cider. They ate heartily yet there was still enough for Octavia to have lunch for two more days. The sandwiches and cider were wrapped up and placed in the fridge and Octavia closed the tin of the cookies.

“Well, I think that about covers it,” Welcome Abode said once the lunch mess had been put away. “My office will be open if you need anything related to the house. I know ponies of all kinds if ever it needs work done.”

“Thank you so much, Abode,” Octavia replied gratefully. “And thank you for all the help. You too, Promontory.”

Promontory gave a smile and walked off.

“Working around trains and the smoke for so long has made him susceptible to sore throats,” Abode said. “You’ll have to excuse him. But if you ask, he can also help with just about anything.”

“Thanks again. It’s nice to know that the ponies around here are so accommodating.”

“I know it will take a bit of time getting used to it from the big city,” Abode commented, “but I’m sure you’ll fit in fine. Take care, Octavia.”

Octavia watched and waved as Welcome Abode left. For the first time since nine o’clock that morning, it had been quiet. She looked at the clock and saw it was now almost four. It wouldn’t hurt to sort through her boxes for a while.

She got through organizing and putting away the contents of two boxes – her bedding and her shower accessories – before being completely bored out of her mind.

But… what was there to do, exactly? Octavia had been through Ponyville twice. She knew nothing of the layout and few of the ponies, the only three being Welcome Abode who was probably going back to the office, Promontory who worked the rails, and a unicorn she didn’t even know the name of.

Brilliant beginning…

After a few minutes and another cookie eaten, Octavia decided it wouldn’t hurt to at least talk to the pony in the house down below. He had been nice enough to help her with moving, after all even though they didn’t do much talking.

The matter settled, Octavia left the house and headed down the small hill. She walked down a small path then headed left at the bottom to get to the house. There was nothing too exciting about it; it seemed a sort of cookie-cutter version of many of the other houses with the exception of a small addition that seemed like the walls were a bit thicker than the rest of the house.

Octavia walked down and knocked on the door. No one answered. Octavia tried again. Still nothing came up. Then she remembered the unicorn had said he was on lunch break from work and had been heading back. Poor timing on her asking for him, and she knew nothing of his hours. Octavia turned to walk away.

“Hey.”

Octavia looked back at the house where the voice had come from. The door was now open and the unicorn was looking at her, still wearing the collared shirt and tie.

“Sorry about that,” he said. “I was working on something and didn’t hear at first.”

“That’s alright. I just remembered I didn’t get your name.”

“It’s Neon. Neon Lights.”

“Oh… I’m Octavia.”

Neon Lights smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Octavia.” He opened the door a little wider. “You want to come inside for a minute?”

Octavia shrugged and followed Neon Lights inside.

It was rather plain inside. The walls were almost entirely a beige color and rather smooth. There was a living room with a couch and chair and a small TV and radio and a kitchen with simple tile counters and basic appliances and three stools sitting at a bar counter. A few pictures hung on the walls – two of Neon himself with a microphone in front of him and standing on a stage, another with him standing next to someone obscured by an odd light, and another of him playing a violin.

“You want something to drink?” Neon asked, snapping Octavia out of her reverie.

“What have you got?” Octavia said. She stepped gingerly through as though she was afraid of slipping again. It felt strange. She’d been inside other ponies’ houses before, but usually with more familiarity than Neon was.

“Well, I’ve got water, cider, some sasparilla-based thing, lemonade, and some Earl grey or chai tea.”

“Um… lemonade will be fine.”

“Cool. You’re not opposed to a bottle, are you?”

“I can manage with hooves, if that’s what you’re asking.”

There was the sound of two bottles opening in rapid succession and Neon came into the living room holding both the bottles in his aura. “Come on and sit down for a minute.”

Octavia suddenly realized she was exhausted. She carefully set herself down on the single chair and relaxed into it. Neon, meanwhile, took the far end of the couch away from Octavia and reclined against the back. One of the lemonade bottles floated over to Octavia and the magic aura went away as soon as she managed to grab a hold of it.

Octavia took a sip. The lemonade was cool and refreshing, slightly sweet and slightly tart, and it felt good going down her throat. She took another sip and sighed.

“So, where you’d come from?” Neon asked.

“Canterlot,” Octavia replied. “I had an apartment there. Figured I needed to get away from the stress of the city for a while.” Then, realizing something was missing. “Yourself?”

“Used to be in Manehattan.” Neon took a sip of his lemonade. “I write and play music. Had a decent career going. Released my breakout second album two years ago. Life wasn’t too bad, then I had to get away from the swarms, so I moved out here.”

“Oh, you play music?” Octavia was pleased to have already found someone who shared an interest. “Which instruments?”

“I can do violin,” Neon said, motioning to the picture on the wall. “Otherwise, I really like guitar, drums, and synthesizers. And I can sing.”

Octavia thought about it. “My old roommate had a synthesizer,” she said. “She was fond of doing… rather repetitive pieces.”

“Can’t stand songs like that,” Neon said. “My father used to call them ‘bird calls’ since they use such a limited amount of notes.” He laughed. Octavia found it slightly funny, but not enough to laugh with him. “What about you?” Neon continued. “I saw you have a cello.”

“Yes. That’s the main one. I can also play violin, clarinet, flute, and piano.”

“Ah, classically trained. I’m guessing your cutie mark then means you read music very well.”

“I can hum any piece you give me without seeing it once before. Mostly classical pieces; I don’t particularly like much other than that. What about you?”

“Musician and producer.” Neon downed another swig of his lemonade. “You know, some modern stuff isn’t too bad. I personally like the more modern stuff. However, I’m not opposed to violin or some classical.”

“Who do you listen to classically?”

“Eh…” Neon scratched his chin with a hoof. “…I don’t really know them by name. I have a few records, but I have to check.”

Octavia shifted uncomfortably in her chair. “I personally like Vibrato’s ‘The Four Seasons’, particularly ‘winter’.”

“Ah, yes. I once got the privilege of seeing a rather talented virtuoso named Arpeggio play it in Manehattan.”

Octavia had known about the concert though she herself hadn’t gone. “Back in Canterlot, I was in a symphony. Arpeggio is our first-chair violinist and concertmaster.”

“Quite an honor,” Neon said. “I also got the honor of then producing a remix of it with him doing the violin part and a rather well known underground artist.”

“…’remix’? ‘Underground’? I’m sorry, I’ve heard the terms before, but I don’t think I’ve ever actually heard them defined.”

“Well, a remix is where you take someone else’s music with their permission and rearrange the beats or add new instruments to it while keeping the feel of the original. ‘Underground’ typically means only DJ’s have access to it and it’s not made public. It’s sort of like we share and get royalties based off how many times our songs are played elsewhere, but you can’t go out and buy a CD with that artist’s tracks on it.”

“So… you’re a DJ.”

“Yes.”

“…my old roommate was a DJ. I… I couldn’t stand the noise she made.”

“I don’t do anything at home. I have a recording studio. Soundproofed and everything. Makes it easier to capture what I want.”

“Doesn’t it ever feel to you like you’re sort of bastardizing the original work by remixing things?”

“It’s a rather popular market. It’s not so much ‘bastardizing’ as hearing it in a different style. We don’t take any claims to it. I could actually show you the Vibrato ‘Winter’ remix I did. It’s still got the violin section very prominent and none of it’s actually lost.”

Octavia shook her head. She realized her bottle was empty. “I’m sorry; I just can’t get into that sort of thing.”

Neon shrugged his shoulders and threw his hooves up in a sort of defeated gesture, though he didn’t seem too bothered by it. “I get it. I’d never touch ‘Canon in D Major’. It can’t be reworked. Believe me, I’ve seen ponies try, and none of them were any good.”

Octavia nodded. “Well, it’s been nice talking to you, but I think I want to relax a little while. It’s been a long day for me.”

“Of course,” Neon replied. “Here, let me take your empty bottle.”

Octavia relinquished the bottle and Neon took it in his aura. Octavia got up. “Thank you for the lemonade,” she said simply.

“Of course. And if you’re interested in recording anything yourself, come talk to me. I can do classical as easily as I can electronic.”

Octavia nodded. Probably won’t be happening anytime soon… she thought, but all she said was. “Maybe.” And even that came out a little disbelieving.

Neon seemed not to notice. “Take care!”

Octavia returned to her house. It was now a few minutes past five. The sun was beginning to set in the distance, casting a beautiful orange hue. Octavia managed to find her tea kettle and a cup and made herself a cup of tea on the stove. She went to the sunroom and looked out, finding herself able to see Neon Light’s house at the bottom of the hill, multicolored lights flashing from the window.

Fine situation she’d gotten herself into! She thought she’d have gotten away from all that moving away from Canterlot. And yet, down there at the bottom of the hill, already she could see the flashing lights that reminded her of so many nights at clubs with Vinyl, clubs that would almost break her eardrum from the noise.

And there was his attitude towards music. Octavia almost hoped he would have been good conversation seeing he was dressed well and he seemed to know Vibrato and Pachelbel, but the whole talk of remixing seemed like a huge offense to her. They already worked fine; what need was there – and how pompous one must be if that wasn’t enough for them!

But the only responses to Octavia’s thoughts were the flashing lights and the sound of crickets, and for the first time Octavia realized she couldn’t hear the music at the bottom of the hill.

Chapter 4 - Morning in Ponyville

Octavia stretched luxuriously in the new bed. The morning sun shone into the room and bathed everything in a golden light.

It was almost too good to be true. For a moment, Octavia thought she was dreaming and that she would be awakened soon by the sound of a pounding bass. But all she heard was the gentle sound of birds tweeting outside her window.

Octavia yawned and got herself out of bed. She contemplated what to do that day. A mental list flashed in her mind consisting of various simple errands – she needed to get new bath items, some groceries, and perhaps find a music store for some note paper. Simple things for a new life in Ponyville.

Octavia took one of the few washcloths she had and washed her face. The warm water felt good as she rubbed the washcloth over her. It was nowhere near the feel nor the cleanliness of an actual shower, but it would have to do.

Octavia was just finishing washing her face when she heard a patient knocking at the door. How polite. “Coming!” Octavia called. Perhaps it was someone who had noticed the move, or Welcome Abode seeing how her first night had gone.

But, as Octavia put the washcloth over the shower door to dry, the knocking came again. This time it was faster and more persistent. “Coming!” Octavia cried again. But the knocking got even faster. Octavia trotted outside of the bathroom. “Coming!” she almost screamed.

Octavia went to the door and threw it open, sighing. “May I help you?” she asked with a long blink

In front of her was a bright multicolored cart with flags waving all over it and the sound of a brass section playing a rather upbeat song. This was soon joined by a pink earth pony whose mane and tail seemed to poof out uncontrollably, hopping back and forth in front of the cart and singing quite joyously.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome; a fine welcome to you!”

“Say wha…!?” Octavia gasped at the sight, and did so again when the pink mare suddenly put a pointy hat with a puff of cotton at the top on her head.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome; I say ‘how do you do?’”

“I don’t even-AAH!” A trumpet was soon blasted right next to her ear, causing Octavia to jump and nearly hit her head on top of the portico.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome; I say ‘hip hip hooray!’”

“Cut that out!” The mare was now dancing around on her hind hooves, pounding on a drum that could have come from a marching band, the noise thudding on Octavia’s barely-woken ears.

“Welcome, welcome, welcome to Ponyville today!”

Octavia barely registered the fact that the drum was missing as the mare suddenly slid to her on her hooves across the dirt, completely speechless. “I…”

But the mare cut her off before she could say anything else. “Wait for it…”

There was a split second of silence before Octavia registered a tiny ‘ding!’ from the cart. Suddenly there was the sound of an explosion; streamers and glitter covered Octavia’s face and her mane was blown back in all directions. Octavia felt one of her eyes begin to twitch.

“Huh, normally ponies smile a bit more when I do that." The pink mare giggled. "Hey, hey, what’s your name?”

“Octavia…” she muttered, spitting out a streamer that found its way into her mouth and calming the twitch.

“Well, Octavia, my name is Pinkie Pie, and I just wanted to welcome you to Ponyville! I saw you come in yesterday with that one nice pony in the red jacket and Promontory with the cart and realized that you might have been moving in so I gathered the rest of the townsponies and told them about our new arrival and we brought sandwiches and cider and I baked those chocolate chip cookies and decided to give you them as a welcoming gift!”

Octavia didn’t know what rattled her head more: the mare’s exuberant display earlier or the rapid pace at which she spoke. “Um… thank you” was all she managed to get out.

“Hm, not much of a talker, are you?” Pinkie replied. “That’s okay. I like to talk myself.”

“Apparently so, since you seem to do so for three ponies,” Octavia said. “Now, could you please excuse me? I need to go and get some things for the house.”

“Ooh! Ooh! You should probably know about a few places. Come on!”

The mare put her head to Octavia’s back and started pushing. Octavia barely had time to put her hooves to the ground before Pinkie started pushing her along the dirt roads at an unbelievably fast pace, Octavia wearing down a small trail through the town as the pink mare pushed her along, her mane whipping in the air behind her.

Octavia suddenly found herself in a screeching halt in the middle of the street and found herself falling forward so her head buried in the dirt. Pinkie grabbed Octavia's face with her hooves, pulled her upright, and twisted her head round so that she was looking at a new building. Inside were various shelves of sundries, boxes containing various multicolored things that ponies went by and misted with water bottles, and various registers and checkout stands. Octavia couldn’t distinguish at the distance she was at, but from the looks it appeared to be—

“Here’s the Ponyville grocer!” Pinkie Pie answered the question before Octavia could even finish the thought. “You can get a lot of stuff for your home here. I like to pick up baking supplies, and sometimes come here on errands for Mrs. Cake at Sugarcube Corner whenever I use too much flour.”

Octavia barely had time to register this information before Pinkie was at her back and once again pushing her through town. Ponies leapt nimbly out of their way and continued on with their business as though hardly any of them found this the slightest bit unconventional; a few even dutifully brought out brooms and small shoves and began to sweep the dirt back to normal.

Octavia was catapulted a few feet upon their next stop and she faceplanted into the ground. Pinkie picked her up in the midst of her daze and pointed to another shop with a quill and a sofa on a wooden sign over the door.

“This is Quills and Sofas!” Pinkie said exuberantly. Octavia noted the mare never seemed to run out of energy as though constantly on a sugar high. “If the name sounds reeeeeeally specific, don’t worry. They have a bunch of other stuff for your home, too, like chairs and tables and towels… next door at ‘House and Home’.”

Octavia tried to make a mental note of it, but was suddenly launched away before she had a really good look at the store. Part of her wondered why no one seemed to try and stop this mare; helpful as she was being, there almost seemed to be a spark of something unnatural or insanity in her movements, as though she was unable to stop for fear of stopping completely.

The last screech was her gentlest, but it still nearly gave her whiplash. She was in front of a rather plain building with a small record over the door and the name of the shop in gilded letters along one of the windows.

“And this is Recorderz!” Pinkie said. “I saw you had a musical note cutie mark so I figured I should show you a music shop! The name’s spelt kind of funny, but if you need anything for whatever music you make, this place has probably got it. It’s managed by a funny unicorn who makes his own music that’s cool for parties. Oh! Speaking of which, I should probably take you to the welcome party for you!”

Pinkie, hardly letting Octavia have a breather, began pushing her down the streets again.

“Wait a minute!” Octavia finally cried out. “I don’t need a welcome party. I just want to get a few things for the house before I go unpack the rest of my boxes.”

Pinkie’s pushing slowed down to a trot and eventually to a dead stop at the bottom of the hill leading to Octavia’s house. “…you don’t want a welcome party? Everyone normally likes them. I am Ponyville’s leading party planner after all!”

“I just… I’ve had a busy time these last couple of days,” Octavia said exasperatedly. “I just want some time to relax, especially after spending all day moving.”

“Oh, okay!” Pinkie hopped around – not walked, hopped – to face Octavia. “It’s fine. Mrs. Cake sometimes tells me I forget I have too much energy sometimes.”

“No kidding…”

“But if ever you want your welcome party, just let me know! I always bring my Party Cannon wherever I go, so if you want I could make a big party and bring together everypony in Ponyville to come out and meet you and make a few friends!”

Octavia smiled weakly, still exhausted after her rocketing through town. “Thanks, but I’ll hold off on that offer.” Party cannon…?

“Alright. Well, I’ll see you around!” And Pinkie hopped off – yet again, walking did not seem to be a default speed – through the town and out of sight.

Octavia sighed. In the last five minutes she’d gone almost completely around town and was right back where she started, with her guide being a mare that would not be entirely out of place in one of Vinyl’s clubs. She hoped the rest of her time in Ponyville would not be so... exuberant.

Despite most of the tour through town being a blur, Octavia managed to find her way back to the grocers. It was bright and lively inside the store, and Octavia picked up some simple things she’d need for the week and purchased a small metal cart to carry it all in. The grocer and the ponies inside had been polite, kind, and helpful, and Octavia felt better from the newer version of Ponyville not including the overbearing antics of Pinkie Pie.

As she returned home, she began to hear a strange sound. It sounded like the knock from earlier, but the closer Octavia got to home, the more she realized it wasn’t exactly a knock. It was a thumping sound, as though an entire body was being crashed against the door.

When Octavia finally got into sight of her home, she could see the head and body of a grey pegasus mare as it kept smashing into her door. Octavia ran as fast as she could up the hill and to the base of the stairs.

“What are you doing!?” she called. “Stop hitting the door!”

The pegasus collided one final time with the door and a resounding crack! filled the air. She finally turned around to reveal a pair of golden eyes. “Oh, uh… sorry about that. Do you live here?”

“Yes, but how does that lead to you slamming against my door like that!?”

“I was trying to get it in the door." The pegasus motioned to the small iron slot just below the door's peephole. "But I just couldn’t get it in.”

As she spoke, Octavia watched as one eye started wandering off as though wherever it pleased, and the pegasus had to blink to readjust it. “You could have just left it there on the doorstep, you know," Octavia offered politely. "I would have found it there eventually."

“Nuh-uh. If there’s a mail slot and I can fit the mail in, I’m supposed to put it there. It’s the mail pony’s oath.”

“That oath doesn’t do you much good when you mix up the routes, Derpy.” Octavia turned around to see a beige male pegasus land nearby and walk up towards them. He looked sternly at the grey pegasus. “You’re supposed to be sorting today.”

“Oh, but I normally do the route every other day,” the grey pegasus said confidently.

“That means Monday, Wednesday, and Friday,” the beige pegasus said. “It’s a Sunday, so it’s my route.”

“Oh. Well, here you go.” The grey pegasus carefully took off the mailbag from around her shoulders and passed it over to the beige pegasus. “Sorry about that. I’ll head back to the office now.” And she flapped away.

The beige pegasus turned back to Octavia. “Was anything damaged?” he asked.

“Well, I heard a crack…” Octavia thought. “Let’s check the door.”

The beige pegasus and Octavia looked at the door. Sure enough, there was a small crack right around the hinges and the mail slot.

The beige pegasus slammed his forehead with his hoof. “Ugh… that’s the third time this month. Don’t worry, Miss…?”

“Octavia.”

“Don’t worry, Miss Octavia. My name’s Care Package, and I’m from the Ponyville Mail Office. We’ll contact your landmare and let her know. I believe it’s Welcome Abode, yes? We’ll let her know and we’ll cover the charge of a new door if necessary.”

“Well, thank you for that at least,” Octavia said. “However, do I need to do anything?”

“You shouldn’t. At least, I’ll need to double check with my superior. Oh, and you do have a letter. Here you go. And you get a free copy of the Ponyville Express; any further copies can be bought for a small subscription or fee at the Post Office.”

Care Package reached into his bag and pulled out a beige letter in a small envelope and a small newspaper roll and handed them to Octavia, gently placing them in her cart.

“Anything else you need before I go?” Care Package asked.

“Well, I would like to know about where Quills and Sofas is, and where the Ponyville Players are.”

“Hm…” Care Package brought a hoof to his chin. “I believe Quills and Sofas is right across a small plaza from Carousel Boutique. That’s the large purple building towards the center of town. The Ponyville Players are in the fountain plaza; look at the town hall, then turn to your right. It should say ‘Ponyville Playhouse’. I don’t think they meet there until Thursdays, though.”

“Thank you very much. Will I see you around again?”

“I run this route on weekends. Otherwise, if you’re interested, I’m spoken for.”

“Oh!” Octavia felt her cheeks get hot and was sure they were bright red. She rubbed the back of her head with a hoof. “Well, I wasn’t asking that far…”

“Most do, eventually. Kind of sad when you think about it; now that I’m attached, I have to ward off mares at the pass.”

“I swear I never had that thought. It’s not like me to do that.”

“Anyways… probably a bad start from me, but you don’t know the types living here.”

“How long have you been here?”

“About seven years. I love it here. The townsponies are all a little strange but they’re all decent sort, especially compared to Las Pegasus. Well, I’ve got to get on my run. See you around.”

As Care Package flew off with a salute, Octavia did find herself thinking he was handsome. And he had the benefit of seemlingly being saner than anyone else in this town. Octavia walked into her house with the cart, wondering how many more strange ponies she would encounter before the end of the day as she looked at the letter.

It was from Arpeggio. Octavia was sure it was a new piece or the next setlist. She set the letter on the counter to be read later on and started putting away groceries.

When the groceries were put away, Octavia felt exhausted after having been dragged on a tour around town and by the fiasco with the mail pegasi, and wanted nothing more than a shower and to lie down on her bed. But when she went to the bathroom, she was reminded of the fact she had no proper towels nor any soap. So she decided to try and run one last errand and headed off to 'Quills and Sofas' to see about any home goods. She reattached the cart she got from the grocery store and set back out, wearily walking back through town once more.

As she was going there, Octavia began to doubt herself. ‘Quills and Sofas’ was a very, very specific name for a store. It was almost as bad as the ‘Scrolls and Tables’ store in Canterlot. Come to think of it, didn’t the pink mare mention another name? She had been going so fast it was hard to tell, or remember, considering the speech was even a blur in her memory.

She was not comforted by the appearance of the store. Outside the store was a sign with a quill overlaying a sofa on it. Inside a display window was a small two-seater couch and a large rack of rather fine, expensive quills. Octavia walked inside the store hoping that walls or other ponies inside were obscuring it, but it wasn’t much. There were only couches, sofas, beds, and various quills and ink accessories.

Even the pony running the store, who introduced himself to Octavia as Davenport, had a cutie mark of a golden quill over a red sofa.

“Um… do you have anything else here?” Octavia asked, awkwardly looking around the store.

“Well,” Davenport began, motioning towards a wall, “we have seat covers and we do sell sheet and quilt sets, though it is in rather limited variety. There’s also a few ink pots and various colors of ink for refills, as well as quill stands.”

Octavia blinked stupidly as though not fully understanding what Davenport said. “…that’s it?”

“Uh… the store is called ‘Quills and Sofas’. I’m kind of stretching it putting a few beds here.”

“But you can call your store whatever you want and put in it anything else,” she said, mildly irritated.

“Would you please calm down, ma’am? I’m just telling you—”

"I would appreciate not being called ma'am, sir," Octavia said, a fire now entering her voice. "And I am a little surprised that you have nothing else in this store. I mean, you can call it whatever you want, but it's really a bad idea to make your inventory so limited."

“Miss, please! I… I just have these things because that’s all I know how to sell!”

“Well then where can I get some general items for the home if you don’t sell any?”

“There’s… there’s the store next door. ‘House and Home’. That should have what you’re looking for.” After a moment of silence, Davenport allowed himself to look at Octavia. “…anything else?”

“I’ll take a daybed and the beige leather three-seater,” Octavia spat.

Davenport rang her up and promised that the two items would be at her house tomorrow with a crew to put them together, no extra charge of course. Octavia paid Davenport the amount he asked and left the store quietly.

As she left, Octavia could swear that Davenport wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed heavily with relief at the sight of her leaving.

House and Home treated her much better. A store attendant noticed her coming in fuming and immediately came to her aid, showing her around the store and helping her select whatever she needed. She bought towels, washcloths, various mane and body soaps, cups and plates and silverware, wine glasses, a mirror and a lamp, and a single small dining chair.

With the items loaded into the cart, Octavia slowly trundled home, exhausted and irritated though feeling much better after her trip into House and Home. At least most of the basics were now hers, and she looked at the clean, rather monotone set of items she’d bought with a small sense of pride. She would arrange them when she got home, and unpack the rest of her things. And then the new place would finally feel like home, like she really lived and belonged there.

As Octavia headed home, she passed by Recorderz. Upon closer inspection, the place was rather clean. Just through the front window, Octavia could see a wall of instruments of various types, racks with instrument care items, a few aisles containing various records and styles, music books, note paper, special marking pens and pencils that would erase easily.

At the back of the store, a muted blue unicorn sorted through boxes with a greyish-blue aura. He wore a black, collared shirt with gold buttons and white cuffs. His mane seemed a little wild and spiky like he hadn’t run a brush through it, but otherwise he seemed clean and well-kept.

Octavia decided that, of the places she’d been to that day, only two seemed to have anypony with any sanity; House and Home, and this place. It would be worth a look soon.

But not right now, and probably not today. Having already exploded once and currently loaded with a full cart, Octavia was ready to go home and rest for the remainder of the day. She sighed and continued walking onwards and up the hill to her house.

It hadn’t lost its charm. The white of the house shone in the brightness of the early afternoon and the polished wood sparkled in the sunshine. A slight breeze was blowing and Octavia opened some of the windows and the sliding glass doors. She pulled out the rest of the sandwich from yesterday's lunch and sat in the back sunroom, looking out and enjoying the smell of apple blossoms.

Octavia spent the rest of the evening unpacking her things and setting things up. Already she had plans. The daybed would go into the ‘office’. Tomorrow she would search for a hardware store and get some basic tools to put up the mirror. The towels and washcloths were neatly folded and placed inside the bathroom closet. The wine glasses were placed in a special cupboard to themselves, and the plates and silverware and cups went in different ones. The food was sorted between the fridge and the shelves, and Octavia managed to get at least seven of the boxes unpacked.

By the time evening came around, Octavia was relaxing in the main room with a record player on and a piece from Pachelbel gently unspooling in the background as she read a book.

As she read, her thoughts became distracted. She remembered the unicorn living at the bottom of the hill – Neon Lights – and his talk of remixes. Pachelbel’s Canon in D was one he said he wouldn’t touch. Octavia became newly enraged by the thought. Such impudence! As though it would need anything else!

…and yet…

…and yet the kicking of her hoof, the dull thud it made against the floor as it gently tapped against the carpet, didn’t sound too horrible. At least, in it's muted form. It kept time and added a rhythm that livened the piece, but did not intrude it.

She forced herself to stop her hoof. She was unused to the quiet. It would take some time, this whole living alone and without the sound of a thudding bass, to get used to.

Chapter 5 - Chance Encounter

Two weeks later, Octavia had at least somewhat gotten herself into a routine.

The slower pace life of Ponyville was almost maddening. Octavia was always doing something back in Canterlot, from meetings to practice sessions to going through shops to meeting with friends, and avoiding Vinyl Scratch became yet another hassle on top of the others once the relationship started going downhill. But in Ponyville she had to work just to make it where she was doing something at all times.

The first three days were okay. Octavia spent most of her time unpacking boxes and setting things up in the new house. It wasn’t long before the place was sparsely furnished and she had obtained everything from the local stores. The post finally got her address and mail figured out and she was obtaining the newspaper and any flyer for local events, in addition to a notice about opening a P.O. box.

But afterwards was horrible. Without anything to do, Octavia spent most of the fourth day irritable and restless. She almost longed for Canterlot’s vibrant atmosphere and crowded streets. Over tea and a quiet dinner alone, she looked out over the landscape of Ponyville and began to wonder.

…why did I do this? she thought. Why didn’t I just move into an apartment? I’m sure Frederic wouldn’t mind me staying with him and Noteworthy a few days while I found a new place. Or Arpeggio. Instead I move off somewhere and hardly know anyone here.

So she resolved to make herself go out the next day, and so established a routine she kept for the next two weeks. She slept until eight in the morning, got up, and went for a walk around the entire edge of Ponyville before jumping into the shower. By nine-thirty, Octavia was out of the shower and tending to her mane and coat. She dried, brushed, and perfumed herself and finished by ten. She went to the kitchen and began to cook breakfast, usually consisting of coffee, toast, eggs, hay bacon, and fruit. Breakfast was done by ten forty-five, and Octavia would check the mail before moving to the sunroom where she would begin to practice.

For almost two hours, Octavia would play in the sunroom, practicing old pieces and any new ones that Arpeggio had decreed for the next set. Already on her fourth day a new piece came in the mail, neatly written folded under Arpeggio’s steady hoof and quill and placed in an envelope, as well as a set for the next concert to take place a few months from then.

And then, at one o’clock, she would travel down to the Station Café, the place she had gone on her first time coming with Welcome Abode, for lunch. She found herself going there most days and always preferred a spot on the open air patio where she could watch the ponies travelling by in their daily activities. The warmer air felt good on her coat and the occasional breeze made it comfortable but not too extreme.

And, for some reason or another, she would always meet other ponies she was beginning to grow familiar with. Care Package the mail pony came there on lunch break, and so would Welcome Abode if she ever got a break from paperwork. Promontory often came in, sat at the small bar, and ordered a drink and possibly an appetizer before going back to work managing the trains that came through.

It was pleasant, light conversation that greeted her ears and the reminder of her life in Canterlot that made her return many times during the week. The owner, a rather portly mare named Comfort Food with a cutie mark obscured by a large blue dress, welcomed her warmly and treated her well. Conversations were light and quick before Octavia would be led to an open table on the patio and a free drink brought for her.

She had found the café a welcoming place to work on her new piece. Octavia would take pencils and erasers and paper she made up into music paper – she’d yet to buy any official sheet music – and come by. Comfort Food would set her up with a table and her drink and a waitress would come by with a menu, but she was never pressured into ordering anything and could sit there as long as she wanted.

Ponyville had indeed inspired her muse, and had slowly been working on a new piece over the last two weeks. Once it was finished, she wanted to show it to Arpeggio to see if he could add it in to the set listing; her last piece had been met with acclaim, and Arpeggio was now sending her money from royalties from other orchestras who wished to play it. Small amounts, but she still hoped she could do it again. She was at the Café again today, finding the bustle of life to be a welcome and inspiring sound.

And it was through the café that Octavia managed to slowly integrate herself into Ponyville life. And how much it reminded her of Canterlot! “How strange that things are so different yet so much the same," she said to herself. "Even here the café becomes a meeting place like in Canterlot.”

“It is, isn’t it?”

“I mean,” Octavia went on to herself, “I’ve already met four ponies here since moving in. I almost feel myself becoming acquaintances with them, and even friends, even though most of our conversations have taken place here in the rather generous siesta Ponyville has.”

“No one likes the heat.”

“It’s casual, slower paced,” Octavia continued. “Not like Canterlot. Even the stores are on rather generous time limits. Late starts, late completions, and flexible on both. Like they know that ponies here start slow and go long. Canterlot… things were so rigid there. Everything moved like clockwork.”

“Not like your bow.”

Octavia’s ears perked, finally registering the fact that someone was replying.

“It sounds to me like you move with grace and fluidity. I’ve heard it, on days where you have the windows open.”

Octavia turned around and looked over at the next table. The light blue unicorn from what seemed like ages ago on moving day was sitting in his chair and turned his whole body to face her.

“A fellow artist at work, I see.” He moved out of the way and showed his own sheets of music paper – real, actual music sheets, unlike the mockups that Octavia had – on the table in front of him.

Octavia tensed slightly. “…how long were you listening?” she asked defensively.

“You talk as though you can’t hear yourself think.”

Octavia cleared her throat. “I’m not used to it.” She decided to skip the actual details. “Coming from Canterlot, I’m not used to the slower pace.”

The unicorn lifted up a drink of his own – possibly a cream soda like hers, Octavia thought, by the light caramel color and the froth that reminded her of beer – and sipped it. “It’s rather easy to adjust to, so long as you don’t mind changing your schedule about an hour or two after Canterlot time.” He gave a light laugh. “Ponyville time is well known across Equestria.”

Octavia shrugged, ignoring his comment. “You were saying you heard me play?”

“Quite well,” he said. “That is, you play quite well. Being neighbors, it’s easy to hear through the windows, but it’s not disturbing at all.”

“Well, that’s a change. I’ve seen lights flashing from your house but hear nothing. Would have thought you’d be as loud as other DJs.”

“I wear earplugs.” But his ears perked before he could explain further. “Wait… you asked me about what a ‘DJ’ was that one evening. You actually knew about it?”

“I knew about it, yes. I just didn’t know the proper term. So, do you have a handle or anything?”

“Nope. Just Neon Lights. I’ve been told I don’t need one. Ha… and you know what a ‘handle’ is in that context. Complicated bag of tricks for a Canterlot cellist.”

“So I’ve been told. A… a friend of mine back in Canterlot was a DJ. I picked up a few things from her.”

“Ah… doesn’t sound like a friend to me. You spat that out.”

“I always thought she produced nothing more than raucous noise.”

Neon fell into a relaxed slouch and put his head on a hoof. “Do explain.”

“Bass heavy, ‘songs’ that sounded like a mixture of train wheels and chalk grating, and never kept the same tune or beat for very long.”

Neon chuckled. “Wubstep, then.”

Octavia threw up her hooves. “If that’s what it’s called. She never told me what it was.”

“Well, it’s the common name for it, then. And frankly, I find myself disinterested with it as well.”

“Really?” Octavia blinked. It certainly wasn't what she was expecting to hear. “I would have thought that’s all you ponies produce. It’s all I heard in the clubs I went to.”

“And you’ve been to clubs?”

“For a few months. I’ve picked up some of it, but never really got full explanations. All I talked about was about music, not really any of the culture that went with it.”

Neon smiled. “I hope I don’t bore you.”

“No. I like talking about music. My cutie mark is a treble clef, after all. It’s just I’d like it to be more than that sometimes.”

“Well, what do you like besides music?”

“Well, I like going to museums, particularly those of natural history and Renaissance or modern art. I also like discussing books, or old movies.” Octavia sighed. “Kind of why I’m not friends with that one DJ anymore. All we talked about was music.”

“Bored you?”

“Kept repeating the same things over and over again.”

“Well, that’s not worth it, is it?”

A waitress came around and set down a bill in front of Neon. The unicorn picked up a napkin and dabbed his face with it before giving it a short wipe. “Well, the normal siesta time is two hours, but my lunch break is only one. I have to pay and get back to work." As though to make his point, he pulled out a few bits and deposited them on the bill. "You should come around to the shop to visit sometime. I'll show you the recording studio next door, too."

“Thank you for the offer, but I’ll be fine for the time being.” It seemed just a little strange to her that Neon would be so willing to show her his work so soon when she barely knew him. Especially with the recording studio, something she had always heard of and imagined as being a rather personal and intimate business.

Neon shrugged. “I’m just putting it out there.” He cheerfully got up, gave her a small wave as the waitress picked up his bill and tip, and left.

Octavia looked at a nearby clock on the wall. It was one forty; most of the regulars were ordering pastries and coffee, a perfect end to the midday meal before heading back home for a nap. Octavia never ordered the pastry or the coffee and never slept. It mystified her how they could drink coffee and be able to sleep afterwards.

On that particular day, though, the heat grew as Octavia headed home from lunch and the air around her house became heavy with perfume from flowers in the orchard and wildflowers in the fields nearby. It lent a drowsy atmosphere to the new house, whose airy halls and wide open rooms gave only more space to let the scent in.

Octavia went to her room and lay down on the bed. It was warm and soft and inviting, and for a moment she closed her eyes and wondered if she ever had moments like this in Canterlot. A light breeze came through the windows, and she could hear birds chirping. There was the drone of a bee outside her window, the soft hum slowly getting into her mind.

How long had it been, since she had such a quiet time to herself? How long since she had even been able to hear herself think? At least seven months, if not a full year, she reckoned. Or perhaps she hadn’t ever been able to. Neon thought her loud when she spoke even though she spoke softly and with an extra refined touch. Had she really been shouting, unable to really hear herself with so many ponies around?

Octavia felt her thoughts slowly drift back to Neon Lights. He was a strange one. He seemed to know the classical musicians, disliked the “music” that Octavia had heard from Vinyl and found herself disliking, and had stated he’d enjoyed her playing from what he heard. And yet he had the sort of laid-back look and nearly a devil-may-care attitude that she had come to associate with DJs, and even that was more refined than Vinyl had been.

For the second time that day, Vinyl Scratch had entered Octavia’s thoughts without really any need for her to. For a few moments she wondered how the unicorn was getting along without her. She wondered if there was someone there to make dinner, or clean the bathroom and kitchen, or take care of the bills and made sure they were sent in on time. She wondered if Vinyl still hated her, or if she was already missing her.

When Octavia opened her eyes, she saw from a clock on the wall it was shortly after three. Had she dozed off? It was entirely possible, but already the heat was beginning to settle and the breeze was more prominent and it was losing its soporific hold on her. She got up, stretched, and walked to the kitchen.

The little black phone hung on the wall at the entrance to the large main room. Octavia picked up the receiver and punched the buttons. There were four rings and an answering machine picked up.

“Hey, this is Vinyl. I either can’t hear you or am out right now, so leave a message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can remember.”

There was a beep, and then silence.

And more silence.

Octavia put back the phone without saying a word. She sniffed a little bit, but interpreted it as coming from the dust being blown through the window though none was in sight. She felt better when she washed her face, but her eyes were still red when she looked in the mirror afterwards.

* * *

The rest of the day went a little smoother. Octavia had found a tennis court in Ponyville and started taking lessons from the trainer there two days a week at four. By the day of the meeting with Neon at the Station Café, Octavia was going in for her third lesson. There followed a full hour of sprinting, various leg exercises, and learning how to grip and properly hold a tennis racket with a hoof. She felt she was slow to learn, but figured it helped if she had something to spend the idle hours with; her teacher said she was grasping it quick for an earth pony, though, so there was something.

The hour of tennis had wiped the thoughts of Vinyl or Neon out of Octavia’s mind; by five o’clock, she wanted nothing more than to sit with a glass of tea or a large ice water and enjoy the late afternoon before making dinner. She was back home at quarter after five, had herself a large glass of water, and sat looking out over Ponyville for a while and watching as the blue sky began to slowly turn yellow and orange before making dinner.

House and Home had graciously supplied her with a cookbook, and she had gotten used to making herself dinner. Tonight she made grilled eggplants on a green salad with rice pilaf mixed in and a light balsamic vinaigrette dressing drizzled over the top. She was eating at her dining room table and staring out into the Whitetail Woods when she there was a knock at the door.

Octavia got up and walked to the door. Answering it, she found Care Package in full uniform with a much emptier bag than he normally had. Unlike last time, he was rather relaxed and his movements were looser and unhurried.

"Good evening, Miss Octavia. I'm sorry if I've interrupted anything."

"Not at all. What brings you by here?"

“I have another letter for you, and a question to ask about later tonight."

Care Package reached into his bags and pulled out another letter. It was neatly addressed from Arpeggio yet again, perhaps another piece of music she might not have. "Give me one second before the question; I want to set this down."

"Yeah, sure. Go ahead."

Octavia walked back to the sunroom and placed the letter on her desk; she would open it later tonight after dinner. She returned to the door and found Care Package waiting patiently for her. "Now, what did you want to ask me?"

"My coltfriend and I were thinking of going to the Ponyville Players’ jazz concert tonight. Seeing as you were a musician, I was just wondering if you wanted to join us and check them out.”

Octavia thought about it. What would she do tonight? If she didn’t go, her normal was to curl up with a good book and a cup of hot cocoa and a record spinning. She decided not much else, and it was easy enough to push back her schedule for a short while. “Sure. What time does it start?”

“We’d probably be heading over to your house about six forty or so. Theater opens at seven, doors open at seven thirty.”

“Okay. I’ll get ready to go. I’ll see you at six forty.”

Care Package lazily flapped his wings and Octavia watched him glide effortlessly back into town. She closed the door feeling quite happy. It had been a while since she had gone out, and she rather liked Care Package from meeting him and occasionally seeing and lunching with him at Station Café. She'd met his coltfriend once before - he had been with him at the first time they had lunch, joining them - and had no problem with him.

And so Octavia finished her dinner in much higher spirits and went to clean off the sweat from the tennis lesson almost as soon as she had finished. So, when six forty came around, she had cleaned herself off, placed a neat little bow around her neck, and had brushed her mane and tail for a nice evening out.

Chapter 6 - A Night at the Theater

The knock came a few minutes early. Care Package stood there looking quite dapper in a blue collared shirt with his red mane swept back and a tie on. His coltfriend was a pale lavender pegasus stallion with a steel grey mane and a rainbow on his flank, wearing an almost matching set of clothes.

“Hello, Care Package and Spectrum,” Octavia said, addressing the pegasi.

“You ready to go?” Care Package said.

“Yeah.” Octavia picked up a small pouch of bits and her key and followed the two pegasi out the door and down to the main streets.

“So,” Care Package began, “what would you be doing if you weren’t coming with us?”

“I had a tennis lesson earlier today,” Octavia said. “I need to get active in a place like this. It moves too slow for me. Of course, I was worn out so I might have just curled up with a book and watched some old movies.”

“Sounds like a nice enough evening to me,” Care Package said. “Spectrum and I just watched ‘Breakfast at Tiffaneighs’ last night.”

“It was really nice actually,” Spectrum said. “I’m surprised how many of those movies are actually pretty interesting. He also got me to watch ‘Roman Holiday’ not long ago.”

“That’s the same leading actress as ‘Breakfast’, you know,” Octavia commented. “She’s excellent.”

“Yes she is,” Care Package said. “I admit, she is rather attractive.” He looked lovingly over at Spectrum. “Alas, no dice here.”

“I thank my lucky stars she isn’t here,” Spectrum said playfully. He turned to Octavia. “You have someone? I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around with someone.”

“I got out of a relationship officially a month and a half ago and moved here only recently,” Octavia said. “I don’t think I’m ready for another one yet.”

“That’s fine,” Care Package said. “Come on; let’s get tickets.”

They stood in a very short line in front of a very small theater – Octavia guessed it could barely hold 500 ponies – colored in gold and a deep red that looked somewhat faded and needed a new coat of paint. Two ticket counters sat outside the main doors and were slowly handing through tickets.

Once the three had gotten their tickets, they stepped through the main double doors into a rather large lobby that covered the whole width of the building. Two different concession stands were inside, one at either end; one acted as a small bar with appetizers, and the other had the look of a Canterlot movie theater stand except it was a lot cleaner and she could smell freshly cooked corn, steamed vegetables, and hot buns stuffed with vegetables and cream in them.

Spectrum pranced over to the bar. “How about a glass while we wait for the doors to open?”

Care Package slowly trotted after him and Octavia followed close behind.

“You look like a mare who drinks wine on occasion,” Care Package said to Octavia. “You should try the local zinfandel made by Berry Punch.”

Octavia put a hoof to her mouth and gasped, but she was still smiling. “Now why’d you say that?”

“I guess I kind of assumed from you coming from Canterlot and all," he shrugged. He, too, was smiling. "I don’t know too many ponies from there and it all kind of seems high society to me.”

“It has its bad areas,” Octavia said. “Like any other big city. And, as much as I hate to indulge the stereotype, I do drink wine.”

Octavia ordered a glass as Care Package laughed and Spectrum brought over two glasses of a sparkling white wine in his wings. Pity these two were as taken; she might have half considered asking Care Package out, and Spectrum wasn’t too bad either.

Admittedly, they were cute together.

The three found a table and sipped and talked wine for a short while. During their conversation, Octavia thought she saw a pale blue horn over some of the heads of the crowd, but it almost as quickly disappeared. Around it had been a bright blue aura that seemed to be familiar, the color standing out amidst the hundreds of ponies and dozens of other unicorn horns. But, hard as she tried, she couldn't remember where she'd seen it.

When they had finished their wines, they noticed that a theater attendant was now standing in front of the door. They paid the tab and walked over to the door as it opened. The attendant checked and punched their tickets and they went inside.

The area was as small as Octavia thought it would be. Even so, there were almost three hundred seats at the bottom, requiring ponies to use a staircase to get down, and one hundred seats above where they were. Octavia, Care Package, and Spectrum went up a staircase to the top balcony and selected three seats towards the middle.

Octavia looked around. Two major lights were being controlled by unicorns sitting on the far edges of either side of the theater. The lights were pointed down and were dimmed heavily so that there was enough light to see by but not blinding. On stage the curtains were drawn back and Octavia could see through the dim lighting a baby grand piano, an upright bass, an electric guitar, a trumpet, and a saxophone. The guitar and the saxophone were close to one another. Otherwise a fairly respectable set-up and she wondered how many were in there.

Care Package seemed to read her thoughts. “There are five members with some training and knowledge in jazz and blues music,” he said, leaning over and whispering in her ear. “There are around eleven total members, I think; enough for a small orchestra.”

“Small indeed. I’d imagine there’s two woodwinds, two brass, a piano, percussion, and the rest strings?”

“I don’t know personally, but it’s a fair guess. Musically, they’re Ponyville’s main players in the industry. One’s even starting a blues album with their help.”

Octavia nodded. Blues was not as respected as jazz or classical in Canterlot, but she knew there were a fair amount of musicians, mostly from Baltimare looking for a break in a genre that hadn’t really been tapped into yet.

Soon the lights dimmed and the audience grew quiet. Octavia could see them move the lights into position on the screen and a group of shadowy figures come out onto the stage. There was the sound of a hoof tapping; Octavia remembered the move from her practices and counted in her head one… two… one two three four and the band started playing.

There were four of them up there playing a slow jazz tune. Octavia recognized none of them, though they played rather beautifully. They didn’t have any of the precision that the concert members in Canterlot had, though they all played easily and with free spirits, and the feeling was infectious. Octavia found herself tapping a hoof along with the beat as the night continued.

She remembered going to more sedate clubs and bars with her friends in the orchestra, where a four-piece band would play in a corner and provide the same type of music, offering a steady background to dozens of small conversations. Ponies would go out two-by-two in the middle of the floor and dance for a few minutes before retreating back to the safety of a table, the music weaving around and complimenting them rather than overpowering them. Octavia spent many evenings with Frederic, Noteworthy, Arpeggio, and others in the band at such clubs after recitals, having a glass of wine and a plate of celery sticks as they discussed the pieces, the reception, the small kinks.

Octavia missed those evenings. It seemed as though no jazz club existed in Ponyville, and she contemplated finding them afterwards, praising them for making it feel more like home, and ask if they wouldn't consider playing more often at more casual settings.

After three songs that lasted nearly fifteen minutes total, the band added a new member. A blue earth pony with a music note for a cutie mark came on stage, waving and smiling to the audience. It took a second for Octavia to realize who it was due to how far back she was seated, and when she realized it she broke out in a giddy grin.

“Hey, Noteworthy’s here!”

“You know him?” Care Package asked. “Noteworthy used to live here. He moved to Canterlot about seven years ago.”

Seven years ago… that would be about right. It would be in the middle of Octavia’s university days when a transfer student came in and started doing orchestra with her. He’d latched on to Frederic first, and the rest became history.

“I play with him in the Canterlot Royal Symphony Orchestra,” Octavia said. “I just never knew he played here, nor that he was interested in blues music.”

He was a fine player, too. He handled the guitar quite well even without a unicorn’s horn and without a pick. His hoof movements were as fine and precise as his brass training, and he was as steady on two hooves as when he played the saxophone.

The music became louder and more vibrant. Piano and guitar intertwined with each other as easily as Octavia could do so with her cello, but there was something rougher in the sound of the guitar. The strum of the guitar became a pulsing, driving beat with a soft growl that made the hairs on Octavia's neck stand on end. And yet the piano was not lost in the mix, the pianist playfully tickling the keys in light, quick strokes that matched the pace of the guitar but softened the sound and gave it a bright, cheery feel. The sound was rounded out and filled out by a drummer keeping time, a pony on a double bass gently plucking the strings of the giant instrument, and a tamborine player who added extra quirks to the sound with the shaking and the tapping.

Octavia would have gotten out of her seat and danced if it wasn't for the fact she was in a theater, and theaters required better composure than that.

Noteworthy played a whole thirty-five minutes’ worth of songs before taking a bow and leaving, and the last fifteen minutes was once again given over to jazz music. The music seemed more sedate and calmer by comparison, moving along at a more deliberate and relaxed pace from the quick and rough movements of the blues guitar, and gently quieted in the last song to a slow, peaceful fade. When the final note was played and the members took a bow, Octavia clapped her hooves in approval of the skill, quality, and program layout.

Outside in the lounge after the show, Octavia found Noteworthy hanging around the bar, a small glass with a caramel-colored liquid and a large ice cube in it.

“Noteworthy!” Octavia called.

The blue stallion looked up and smiled as he saw Octavia coming, and even opened a hoof to accept a hug from the mare.

“Oh, it's so good to see you!” Octavia said happily. "It feels like it's been forever since I've seen you. How are you?"

“Good, good!” Noteworthy replied happily. “I’d almost forgotten you moved down here.”

Octavia giggled. “I honestly doubt that. How is everyone?”

Noteworthy gave a dramatic sigh. “Arpeggio cannot stand the thought of continuing the orchestra without his star, and Frederic is pining for his lost Lenore; he mopes about the house all day asking about you.”

Octavia smirked playfully. It was good to see Noteworthy still had his sarcasm. “Oh has he? And how is he coping?”

“Don’t worry,” Noteworthy replied with a wink. “I know how to keep him satisfied in the meantime.”

Octavia blushed. “Well, that's good to hear. What about yourself?”

“Oh, I'm just down here for the evening. Have to oblige my hometown when they send me an invitation, after all. How are you? Has the move treated you well?”

“Yes, actually. I’m here with a few friends.” She motioned to Care Package and Spectrum talking to… someone; they were partially hidden by the crowds and Octavia couldn’t see the third pony.

“Our introverted Tavi, making new friends within two weeks of arriving?” Noteworthy gave a rather overexaggerated gasp. “I wouldn’t have imagined it. And two males!? Oh, how quickly the heart heals!”

“Oh calm down; they’re partners with each other. I’ve no interest in either. Well, maybe the beige one just a little," Octavia said shyly, "but he’s taken. They... they remind me a bit of you and Frederic, in a way.”

“Well, I’d love to meet them. Why don’t you call them over and we have a drink?”

Octavia turned to Care Package and Spectrum and motioned for them. “Come here; I want you to meet an old friend of mine.”

The two pegasi trotted over with large smiles on their faces. “Well,” Care Package said with awe, “you said you knew him, but I didn’t believe you for a moment. Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you, Noteworthy.”

Spectrum said nothing. He was happily trotting in place and a grin seemed to be plastered onto his face.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, too,” Noteworthy said with a nod of his head. “How did you come to know Octavia?”

“We lunch together at the Station Café often,” Care Package said. “I stop in the middle of my postal runs, and she goes to write music.”

“Good, good. The Station Café is a particular favorite of mine. Used to go there for dinner some evenings to try and meet ponies.”

“Certainly is the spot,” Octavia agreed. “They go there often, and I’ve met a few others there. It reminds me of the places we used to go to back in Canterlot.”

“Ah, so you’ve managed to integrate yourself into Ponyville life. I imagine you've bought up Recorderz supply of music sheets already.”

"I love that place's selection of music," Spectrum said. "I always go there to pick up the latest albums and they have a bunch of other accessories there; I had to bring our record player there not long ago."

“Well, I'm ashamed to say I've not even been there. But if it has the recommendations from you two, then I'll go there.”

Care Package and Spectrum had work the next day, but Octavia wanted to talk with Noteworthy for a little longer. Octavia said her farewells and turned back to Noteworthy.

"So, how is everyone really doing back there? I feel so cut off from there ever since the move."

"You should come up to visit sometime. Frederic was thinking of having us host a party, and Arpeggio wants to hold something for the band members; he's already talking with Fleur-de-Lis - our newest benefactor - about having a charity event to raise money for the band. Or you could have us all come down here; I'd love to see your house."

"I'd love to, but I'm afraid of going back, to be honest. You see, I really don't want to... to see—"

“Hey, Noteworthy!”

Octavia nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard it. She turned around. Sure enough, there was that one light blue uni- Neon Lights, that was his name. She had seen him at the Station Café, too. Yet another face that kept popping up around town.

Neon walked over and held up a hoof, to which Noteworthy extended his own and bumped hooves with him. Neon still had on his black collared shirt and red tie and still looked like he hadn’t bothered to brush his mane. There was still that air of general unkemptness about him – she hadn’t been able to put a hoof on it earlier, but that’s what it was. It reminded her a little of—

“Hey, man!” Neon was saying. “How are you? It’s been a while.”

“I’m good." Noteworthy held out a hoof for a hoofbump, which Neon playfully returned. "Hey, are you free next weekend? I want to come around and work on something.”

“Yeah, I’m available. I’ve got some time next weekend. Still working on the blues album or something else?”

“Blues album. I’ll bring the guitar; I think I have that one solo worked out.”

“Cool! I’ll see you then.”

It was only then that he seemed to notice Octavia, and only because he turned around in her direction.

“Hey, Octavia! I didn’t see you there for a minute!”

Octavia nodded respectfully, but muttered a "hmph" at his ignorance of her standing there. “Noteworthy’s a friend of mine. I play with him in the orchestra and didn’t know he played here until tonight.”

“Oh, really?” He seemed vaguely impressed by that, and Octavia felt a strange surge of pride. Strange, because she wasn’t sure why – or even if – she liked him to be impressed by that. “Noteworthy’s been working with me on recording songs for a blues album for the past two years.”

Octavia found that almost impressive; both the fact that Noteworthy had apparently been associating with him for two years and she hadn’t known, and the fact that he had returned it almost without hesitation.

“It’s true,” Noteworthy said, reading the expression on Octavia’s face. “My old friends here in the Players are helping out.”

Octavia could do no more than nod at Noteworthy. Instead, she turned to Neon. “You much interested in blues or jazz?”

“Own a few albums, attend a few concert lounges.” He nodded and shrugged. “They were bigger in Manehattan and there’s a fair amount in Los Pegasus.”

Octavia nodded curtly. "A DJ with an ear to the ground on other music? I would have thought you were primarily interested in electronic music or remixes."

"Remixes require an open mind to a lot of music," Neon explained calmly. "I can pick whatever I want, but it's helpful to know and like a lot of genres so the structural integrity of the song remains. Some of the pleasure of remixing for me comes from taking favorite songs and adding a new twist."

"What of other artists? Do they mind you reworking it?"

"There's a lot of legal issues. Royalties, contracts, various stipulations given by the bands... It takes longer to get the approval for the remix than the remix itself and I can't afford to skip one part."

Octavia was flabbergasted. How could he talk about doing these things so casually? It was as though all of these already decent songs were ripe for the picking and all he had to do was choose the right one as though it was like buying apples from the store. It seemed to her like taking a marble statue intended to be white and coloring in the eyes to make it pop art.

Neon looked at his watch. “Well, I’ve got to go. I’ve had a long day; had to do inventory counts at the store and I’ve got new stock coming in tomorrow, plus I want to work on recording that new techno song I've been writing.”

Noteworthy nodded and extended his hoof for another bump. “And I probably need to catch a train back tonight. Frederic wants to go out tomorrow. Two year anniversary!”

“Alright. I’ll leave and head off. Good night!” He turned to Octavia and smiled… rather friendly-like, as though ignorant of the power play that had just transpired. And then he left.

Noteworthy looked at Octavia for a while. “You alright?” he asked after a minute.

Octavia sighed. “Where are you going tomorrow? —with Frederic,” she added hastily.

“La Jument Petite,” Noteworthy said.

Octavia sniffed. And then the tears that had been coming suddenly stopped and retreated. When she spoke again, she felt her voice fill with fire. “I hope you have fun. And tell Frederic congratulations from me to both of you.” She turned to go.

Noteworthy sighed. “Is this about Vinyl?” he asked.

Octavia turned around with an actual gasp of surprise. “Of course it’s not about Vinyl! I’m happy for you, really! Why would you even bring that bitch into it?”

Noteworthy just looked at her confusingly. “That’s not normal language for you. I… I don’t even think I’ve heard that from you ever.”

“As good a time to start, then.” Octavia turned around and walked out of the theater.

She heard footsteps behind her. “Tavi, if it’s something about Vinyl, why don’t you just tell me? You shouldn’t just keep it bottled in.”

“I’m not bottling anything in!” Octavia shouted without stopping.

“You are. I heard every single detail of that conversation that took place in there, even the stuff that wasn’t said. And here’s what I got: you started arguing with Vinyl and now you think all ponies like her are a bunch of stuck up… pricks.” Noteworthy said the last word rather quietly, as though he didn’t like even the notion of the word itself.

Octavia stopped and turned around. Noteworthy was standing there behind her looking at her with concern. For a long time, she was unsure about what to say. Noteworthy wasn’t as close to her as Frederic or Arpeggio were, but obviously he still was a long-time friend and… had really poked through to the main issue.

Octavia sighed. “On our one year anniversary, Vinyl turned down a reservation at La Jument Petite in favor of a party for us at Trance Rhythm’s house. There. Are you happy?”

Noteworthy exhaled sharply. “Oh. I didn’t mean to offend you. Tavi, I'm sorry.”

Octavia shook her head. “No. You’re right. I’ve been stupid and letting it get a hold of me. I’m the one who should say sorry to you.”

Noteworthy smiled. “You should try apologizing to Neon Lights, as well. You were sort of showing it with him, too.”

Octavia nodded. “I... I don't know..." She sniffed a bit, but turned away from Noteworthy so he couldn't see her. She felt ashamed of herself, of the way she'd acted and the tone she'd used.

Noteworthy walked Octavia the rest of the way home and waited until she had opened the door.

“Are you going to miss your train?”

“There’s one left tonight,” he said. “It’s only nine thirty. I have enough time to pick up my guitar before catching the train.”

Octavia smiled. “Thank you, Noteworthy. And really, I do want you and Frederic to know that I’m happy for you and congratulations on two years together.”

"I appreciate the sentiment," he said warmly. "But you should apologize to Neon, too. You are placing blame where it doesn't belong. And maybe you should talk with Vinyl Scratch again. You were together for a year; it's not like you need to completely cut ties with her." With that, he waved goodbye and left.

Octavia sighed. Tomorrow, perhaps, she would go down and see Neon. At least it would clear her conscience.

* * *

Octavia did not go the next day, nor the day after that.

For a whole week, Octavia didn’t see Neon Lights. She became preoccupied with a whirlwind of other things, and she admitted to herself she didn’t want to see Neon Lights again so soon. So she put off the meeting even though she could have visited him any time during the evenings at his home at the bottom of the hill.

In the meantime, she found herself more preoccupied. Her new song was coming along well, and she spent many hours either in the sunroom or the living room working on it. Her tennis practices extended into simple matches with other beginners at the courts. She began looking at possible dates for a party; having felt herself finally at home in the new house, she wanted to invite her friends from Canterlot over for small get-together.

And she started looking into some form of work; having learned that a rather talented Canterlot musician was in town, the mayor had come to ask her if she could teach a music class, coming in once a week to do a simple music lesson. She declined the offer of being a music teacher but said she considered it a possibility, though she was more in favor of doing private, one-on-one lessons.

It was a week after the jazz concert when Octavia realized she really needed regular music sheets to write her new piece on. It was nearly finished, but the lines were all over the place and it was becoming hard to write out the notes and clearly see what she wanted them to be. And so, it was time to go to the one place that she hadn’t been yet: Recorderz music shop.

Trying to remember as best she could the route Pinkie had taken from the shop to her home, Octavia retraced the steps of three weeks ago. It wasn’t too hard; there seemed to be something of a permanent rut that no amount of dirt filling it in could replace or cover. And so she followed the path through the town, hoping her memory and the path would lead her correctly.

Recorderz was in a fairly nice section of town. In a sort of small square, it lay amongst a nursery and flower shop, a café, a bookstore, and a small general goods store. Octavia walked over to the store with the gilded letters saying “Recorderz: Music Needs and Wants”, pushed open the door, and went inside.

There was the tinkling of a bell overhead as she opened the door and stepped inside. On the side of the store she was on were a bunch of small rotating racks filled with accessories; cords, strings, picks, polish, cloths, cleaning supplies. Over towards the back were various instruments lining the walls behind a counter that stretched from the front around the corner to the back, with a door heading into the back rooms. On the opposite side of the store from where Octavia stepped in were a few shelves filled with various records and albums and CDs.

For a while, Octavia browsed around the store. She looked at the records and took note of the rather large classical section and the decent-sized jazz and blues section. She browsed the racks and found strings for her cello, sheets for her music, wood polish combined with magic designed to keep the sonic integrity of the instrument. She picked them all up and headed for the counter, counting her bits as she waited for someone to come out of the back.

When someone came out to attend to her, she found herself not as surprised as she thought she would be. “Hello, Neon.”

“Hello, Miss Octavia,” Neon Lights said politely. He adjusted his tie with his magic. “I was half wondering when I’d see you around here.”

“Are you the only one in?” Octavia asked. She was kind of hesitant to actually talk with him now that she was here.

“No. It’s just after the lunch hour. I’m on front duty alone and the other two are in the back.”

“Oh." Octavia moved forwards and deposited her items on the counter. "Well, I wanted to apologize for a week ago.” The words came out strained and sounded more like a croak.

Neon set down the item he was about to ring up. "...I'm sorry?"

"At the theater." Octavia said. "I wanted to apologize for what happened at the theater after the jazz concert."

“Oh, at the theater? Why? What did you do?” He sounded like he remembered, but didn't want to tell Octavia that.

“Well, I was probably being a little snide or derisive or just plain rude. I kept trying to one-up you, trying to make myself better.” But she couldn't bring herself to say it was simply because he was a DJ, that somehow by his very being she felt insulted.

It was a horrible thought, and Octavia pushed that out of her mind before she could say it out loud. It wouldn't do, not when Neon was somehow being unfailingly polite to her.

“Yeah. I heard some of it, but… thankfully, I don’t take offense at that too easily.” Neon picked up the first item and scanned it.

Octavia nodded. “Good, good." How was he able to be so... nice? "Just… a friend pointed out I was being a little rude and I agreed with him.”

“You two dating?” Neon asked, scanning the last of the items and putting them into a bag.

“No, no. He’s got a partner in Canterlot; we’re just bandmates.” It was common in Canterlot for ponies to assume such. Interestingly, Neon was the first who asked as opposed to immediately assuming things.

“I see. You seemed to have been close to him. I wondered what it was.” Neon

“Nothing serious. But… I’m not looking.”

Neon, who had been preparing to print a receipt, stopped in his tracks and looked at Octavia. “…sorry?”

“I’m not looking.” Why? Why did she say that? Sure, she had left Vinyl, and it probably was true she wasn't entirely over breaking up with Vinyl yet, and Neon did kind of seem handsome...

...wait, why am I thinking that? Pull yourself together and think before you dig yourself deeper, Octavia!

Neon arched an eyebrow and nodded slowly. He printed the reciept and waited calmly while Octavia counted out the proper bits before placing the bag on the counter. Octavia grabbed the bag in her mouth and started walking out.

“See you around sometime, then?”

Octavia stopped and turned around. "I guess so. I mean, we'll probably see each other at Station Cafe sooner or later."

Neon smiled and nodded. "You should smile more often."

Octavia was confused. "...excuse me?"

"At the theater, when you were talking with Noteworthy and the two pegasi, you were smiling. You should do so more often." He smiled again, and this time it felt like his entire face lit up, a mischevious twinkle in his eye and a shy lilt to his voice. "You look prettier when you smile."

Octavia felt her cheeks get hot. "I... I should try a little more, then," she said. And she walked out.

As she walked back home and passed another store, she thought she felt something on her face. She turned towards her reflection in the store's window and looked at herself. It took her a moment to realize she was blushing.

Chapter 7 - Housewarming Party

Octavia sat in the warmth of her shower. She’d already washed and rinsed a few minutes ago. Right now, it was pleasant to just let the water gently fall on her, to let the mist and steam rise up around her legs and body and gently bathe her in warmth. She sat with her head in the main stream of water, her eyes closed and her breathing serene.

It was a sort of meditation that Octavia had adopted recently. At the end of the day, she’d shower and clean herself off before sitting in the water for a few minutes more. There was something almost hypnotic about the gentle pounding of the water on her head and body, like her mind was getting as clean as the rest of her. Having showered and leaving with a clear head, she would step out and be ready for a bit of relaxation before heading off to bed.

Things had been different ever since leaving Canterlot and Vinyl behind, but Octavia was making it work. She had become used to the silence she now had, finding ways to make it less empty and more fulfilling; with less noise, she finally had the time and ability to think. She had created for herself a more rigid schedule, one that was without Vinyl’s erratic behavior, and had adapted to it quite easily. She’d even decided to get out there as a tutor in classical music instruments, and already was teaching a little colt to play piano once a week after school; she took to the idea quickly and was enthusiastic about showing someone so young her craft, and he was looking to be an attentive learner.

It was now a little after five o’clock. Somewhere in her mind, a little alarm went off. Octavia opened her eyes and slowly turned off the water. She grabbed the towel from over the door and carefully toweled herself off thoroughly before stepping out of the shower. She brushed her mane and tail and neatly styled it and put on her bow. Feeling like she was ready, Octavia stepped out of the bathroom and walked into the main room.

The table had been upgraded to a large dining room table with eight chairs. It was fully set with a fine red tablecloth and eight place settings. Dessert of chocolate chip cookies would come later, depending on the feelings of the ponies coming over for dinner. The record player was set, and the food was ready for serving.

All that was needed were the guests.

Octavia gave the squash and barley soup one more stir with the spoon, tossed the balsamic vinaigrette into the salad, and checked that the stuffed peppers were gently steaming. It was a fine meal and she was happy to have done it all on her own. Surprisingly, a young family – the Cakes of Sugarcube Corner – had not only offered to help her learn how to cook the fine dishes, but even lent her their recipes. Octavia had tweaked the recipes slightly to suit her tastes. Even so, they turned out quite well.

The doorbell rang and Octavia left the pots and the bowl with the salad and went over to the door. She opened it and saw Arpeggio, Frederic, and Noteworthy at the door.

“Welcome,” Octavia said. “I’m glad you all could make it.”

“Of course,” Arpeggio said as he stepped inside. “It’s a delight to come. Ponyville is not a common haunt of mine, but I do approve of the place you have here.”

“Well, hopefully my home is more fitting to your tastes,” Octavia said politely.

“Well, I think it’s quite nice,” Frederic said. “A little monotone, but otherwise elegant.”

“It’s been a while since I didn’t have a multitude of colors constantly shining in my face,” Octavia said with a respectful nod. “But I probably do need a little color in here.”

Noteworthy came in and smiled at Octavia as she closed the door. “I think it’s quite fine.”

“Well, I’m glad you think so,” Octavia replied quietly, smiling back but her ears went back on her head. She was half afraid of Noteworthy chewing her out again.

Noteworthy gave no sign, but held back as Arpeggio and Frederic walked further into the house. He turned to Octavia, who felt her cheeks become hot. “So, how have things gone?”

“Oh, they’re… they’re fine,” Octavia said. “I’m tutoring now. I’ve started teaching a colt from the Ponyville schoolhouse how to play piano.”

“Good, good.” Noteworthy nodded his approval. “I see you’re managing to integrate with the Ponyville crowd a little more.”

“Yes, a bit. Cheerilee is quite nice. And the colt is rather eager to learn and so far an excellent student.”

“He has an excellent teacher,” Noteworthy said and followed Arpeggio and Frederic further into the room.

Octavia smiled at the compliment, but was relieved when the doorbell rang again for an excuse to get away from Noteworthy. She opened the door to see a lone unicorn with a pink mane standing outside. “Ah, Fleur de Lis! Welcome. Come on in.”

“It’s a pleasure,” Fleur de Lis said. “Je m’excuse, but Fancy Pants could not make it tonight. He is attending a soiree hosted by Prince Blueblood.”

“That’s fine,” Octavia said. “It just seems we’ll have an extra place at the table. Come in.”

Fleur came in and gasped. “C’est magnifique! I never would have guessed such a place could be found in Ponyville. Oh, if it were not for my career, I would come down here immediately!”

“It’s been a little rough adjusting to,” Octavia said, closing the door and leading Fleur de Lis to the living room, “but I enjoy it.”

“Don’t worry too much over it,” Fleur said. “It may not be much like Canterlot, but you’ve managed to take a little of it with you.”

“Well, thank you,” Octavia said. “I do miss being there, but I am glad for a little peace and quiet.”

“I should say,” Noteworthy said. “It seems you’ve lightened up a bit, too. New experiences can broaden the mind.”

Octavia grimaced a bit. Had that been an accusation? Was that said in response to the way she'd acted two weeks ago at the theater?

She was saved from screaming out to apologize to Noteworthy by Arpeggio speaking up. “Indeed,” the unicorn nodded in agreement. “It is often said, and should be repeated, that the best pieces by the great composers were done while traveling.”

“Oh, that gives me an idea!” Octavia said, trying to steer the conversation away before Noteworthy could continue. “The next time I come into Canterlot, I should bring some sheet music paper with me and write a song on the train.”

There were polite murmurs of agreement and praise at the idea. But the curious look on Noteworthy’s face said that Octavia had switched the conversation too quickly to be considered casual. Her ears flopped back momentarily in shame, but Noteworthy offered no further comment.

When the doorbell rang a third time, Octavia quietly excused herself as conversation started up again and she went to open the door. She found Care Package and Spectrum standing there, each dressed in clothes similar to the ones they’d wore for the night at the theater.

“I was wondering when you two would get here,” Octavia said.

“I hope we’re not underdressed,” Spectrum said. “CP was worried that, it being a formal dinner party, we might be a tad below the rest.”

“I was not,” Care Package said. “I was worried that you might be.”

“Same thing,” Spectrum said. “Oh, did you remember the thing you were supposed to give her?”

“Oh, yes.” Care Package went to the pocket of his collared shirt and pulled out a neatly folded up piece of paper. It seemed thicker than normal and small, only about a half-sheet in size.

Octavia took it and opened it up. The paper had a gold outline, and had a purple background with shocks of blue, yellow, and red that looked like stage lights at a nightclub, along with a very neatly worded note in white with her name handwritten in a black ink in the yellow light.

You are invited to the release party for my new EP, “Ponyville Soundscapes”. You will enjoy food, drinks, company, a chat with me, and a free copy of the EP [that’s ‘Extended Play’, if you didn’t know]. The party will take place at Recorderz starting at 5 in the evening on the 17th. No need to RSVP, just show up and present the invitation to the pony at the door.

It was signed in a simple, but blocky “Neon Lights”. Octavia noticed the “N” and the “L” were double the size of the rest of the text.

“This is from Neon?” Octavia asked. “Did you get one?”

Care Package shook his head. “Few do. He probably sent out around six of those. It’s open to the public, but the rest of us have to pay 20 bits to enter, and probably another 5 if we want the EP at a discount.”

“He’s actually really cool and personable,” Spectrum said. “I got his last album, ‘Permanent Waves’, at his last release party and he was totally cool with talking about his previous releases and his processes.”

“So, how’d you get it?” Octavia asked, motioning for the pegasi to come inside.

“With my work at the post office,” Care Package replied, “Neon came around earlier and asked if he could send this on delivery. I told him it was too late, but I was coming here for the dinner party.”

“How come he didn’t just bring it around himself?” Octavia asked as they got to the living room. “I live just up the hill from him.”

“Beats me,” Care Package said as Spectrum excitedly went over to Noteworthy. “I asked myself, but he insisted that I deliver it and wouldn’t take ‘no’ for an answer.”

Octavia pondered that as she introduced Care Package and Spectrum to the other ponies in attendance. The record player was turned on, meetings went smoothly, and Octavia motioned that things were ready to eat. She pulled out a fine red wine and poured glasses for all who wanted it, and the dinner began.

They sat down at the table, the record player going smoothly as a new song began and the conversation took a lively turn. Spectrum and Fleur de Lis turned to Noteworthy as he began discussing jazz music and his latest performance, Frederic and Care Package started talking with one another about movies, and Octavia turned to Arpeggio.

“Do you know a pony named Neon Lights at all?” Octavia asked between spoonfuls of soup.

Arpeggio finished chewing a bite of salad and dabbed his mouth with a napkin. “Yes. I believe it was three years ago. I was on a trip to Manehattan and he approached me after a concert. He wanted me to perform the violin for a piece.”

“Which piece?” Octavia asked, hoping she didn’t sound too eager or interested.

“I believe it was Vibrato’s ‘Four Seasons – Winter’. I have a copy of it somewhere. It’s not my normal thing, but I will say I had fun doing it and I rather liked the end result.”

“‘Four Seasons’ is a particular favorite of mine from you. But what did he need you for?”

Arpeggio smiled and nodded politely at the bit of flattery. “Neon Lights specializes in electronic music with a bit of electric guitar thrown in. He intended to create a ‘remix’ of the piece for an old album of his.”

Octavia poked her spoon at her soup. It tasted good, but she was pondering Arpeggio's words more than her soup. “It feels wrong.”

Arpeggio, about to take another bite of his salad, paused and pulled it back. “What do you mean?”

The next spoon of soup seemed a little harder to swallow; Octavia was afraid that Arpeggio was going to show disdain with her. “Well, something seems wrong. It feels like something would be lost from the original piece.”

Arpeggio hummed thoughtfully. “Normally, I would agree. But from a different viewpoint, it benefits us classical musicians, too. You see…” Arpeggio leaned forward and rested a hoof on the table. “Neon’s music reaches a set of ponies we don’t normally reach. They are introduced to our music through his remixes, and perhaps even become interested in our music.”

Octavia nodded. It did make some sense from an economic standpoint, but from her experience Arpeggio rarely did anything for purely economic gain; he gave her this sabbatical, after all. “But what about the original composer’s intent?”

“It’s meant to be listened to an enjoyed. And frankly, I would prefer Neon as opposed to numerous other ‘artists’ from the field. He at least has some classical training – started on the violin – and at least knows his music theory and structure.”

Octavia nodded and ate a bite of her soup. Arpeggio’s main thoughts were on the arts industry, and he spent most of his time in the orchestra looking at venues, coming up with funding and writing grants - of which Fleur de Lis was a rather large benefactor - and generally keeping the rest of them paid and afloat. Octavia knew he was putting in many hours keeping her in the loop and even paying her for her time in Ponyville. So there must have been some reason that Arpeggio did the remix with Neon, but he wasn’t saying it.

Dinner continued and Octavia stopped pressing Arpeggio on the issue. Many complimented Octavia’s cooking and the choice of wine and glasses were still being had long after the dinner was completed. Every once in a while, Octavia would get a look from Noteworthy; when she felt her face get hot, she wasn’t sure if it was from the wine or the constant feeling like Noteworthy wanted to jump on her about Neon again.

When it seemed like ponies were getting up for dessert and to stand on the patio as Octavia had wanted, Noteworthy even took a few steps towards her. But she was saved by Frederic and Arpeggio coming forward and blocking him.

“Octavia, I gave you this sabbatical to work on your music,” Arpeggio commented. “I’m curious as to what your current progress is.”

“If it goes well, we might even include it in the next major concert,” Frederic said. “After the reception of your last piece, the critics are wondering when you’re going to come up with a new song.”

“Well, I have something worked out,” Octavia admitted. “I’ll need a little help with the accompaniment, but I’ve got a fair start.”

“Well, let’s have a look at the sheet,” Arpeggio said. I’d also like to see some more of this fine house.”

“Of course. Come, come.”

Octavia led the way back to the sunroom. Off in the distance the moon was shining brightly and lit up the room, but Octavia turned on a light and lit up the desk and her cello. She shuffled through papers and found the sheet music paper with the new copy of the composition on it and handed it to Arpeggio, who took it in his aura. Frederic and Noteworthy looked on in interest and scanned about the room.

Arpeggio scanned the sheet, looking slightly confused. “…it’s for violin?”

“I thought I’d try something different,” Octavia said. “I can play the violin, too.”

“It’s a bit risky,” Arpeggio said. “I mean, you don’t have a violin, do you?”

“No,” Octavia admitted sheepishly. “But the cello has been good to start. And I was thinking of running it by you when I’m done to see what you thought of it. As first-chair violinist, you would be the authority on whether or not it would work.”

The flattery worked. Arpeggio looked up from the sheet and smiled at Octavia. “But of course,” he said cheerfully. “The notes seem to flow quite easily from one to the other; I am interested in hearing it played out.”

“Take it with you tonight,” Octavia said. “Play it a few times and tell me what you think. Once you approve, I can start work on the accompaniment.”

Arpeggio folded it neatly into thirds and took an envelope off Octavia’s desk. “Thank you,” he said. “I shall run it by the rest of the orchestra and see what they think as well, if you don’t mind.”

“Not at all,” Octavia said. “We need to have full interest and investment in any piece.”

“I’m sure they will give their approval,” Arpeggio said confidently. “Octavia, my dear, you’ve done well so far. I’m sure you won’t let us down.”

Octavia thought the same as Arpeggio and Frederic left the room. She was both astounded by the approval that her piece had met without even a sample performance, and nervous and hopeful that the piece actually met Arpeggio’s standards.

It took her a moment, after processing this information, to realize that Noteworthy had not left with the others.

“I think it’ll pass inspection,” Noteworthy said. “It seems a departure for you, but I’m interested in how it turns out.”

Octavia turned around as calmly as she could; Noteworthy was leaning up against the wall, his forelegs and hindlegs crossed. “Thank you for the vote of confidence,” she said genuinely. “I… I’m nervous.”

“I could see that. It was quite plain during dinner.” He returned his left hooves to the ground and walked towards her. “But not just about the piece.”

“I… I don’t understand what you mean.” She did, though. The looks from Noteworthy otherwise weren’t just her imagination.

“You were talking with Arpeggio about Neon.” Noteworthy gave an odd little smile. “Personally, I’m surprised you hadn’t heard about that team-up before.”

“I never listened to that music very much. Not even when I was living with Vinyl.”

“So why’d you try to keep it so silent?”

Octavia grimaced. Noteworthy would not leave it alone until he got a satisfactory answer. “Well, I was thinking about what you said. And… you’re right. I’ve… I’ve been rude and abrasive and… well, I really need to think I’m about what I’m saying a little more. And I…” Octavia’s ears flopped down in shame. “I didn’t want you to get mad at me again.”

Noteworthy nodded. “So, have you managed to apologize to Neon?”

Octavia gulped. “I… I found him at Recorderz a few weeks ago. I apologized to him while I was buying a few things for my music supplies.”

Noteworthy’s smile brightened, but only a little. “Wasn’t so hard, was it?”

“No, not really. He’s pretty nice, actually. He didn’t seem too disturbed by the whole thing at the theater.”

Noteworthy nodded in approval. “Yeah, he’s good. On a similar note, have you talked with Vinyl at all since moving down here?”

“No.” Octavia shook her head. “It’s been five weeks since I last saw her. I thought about calling her few days ago, but I don’t know how things would go.”

“Do you still blame her?”

Octavia nodded. She hated this interrogation by Noteworthy, but knew it wasn’t entirely unwarranted. “I don’t know what to say. And I’m afraid she might try and get back together, and I don’t know if I need that yet.”

Noteworthy’s smile warmed a little. “It doesn’t have to be a long conversation or a life review. You just have to say you’re sorry. That you acknowledge it wasn’t entirely her fault.”

“But what if she wants to get back together?” They were excuses, Octavia knew, but she did not want to talk to Vinyl again right now. The unicorn mare often invaded Octavia’s thoughts and made her uneasy, and Octavia didn’t know what was the bigger reason: her still being angry with her, or if any lingering feelings remained that she wasn’t ready to face yet.

“Let her know you don’t want to yet,” Noteworthy said. “Don’t phrase it that way. Just say you need a little more time apart to think. Be honest, but kind. Even if you don’t want to get back together, it would be better to end it as friends than enemies.”

Octavia nodded. She decided with the new events that it was best she tell Noteworthy. “Um… Neon gave me an invitation to a release of an EP.”

Noteworthy’s eyes brightened. “That’s good. Are you going to go?”

“I was thinking about it. I was unsure.” She looked away from Noteworthy.

"I say it's a great chance to make a friend. I think you could do with some more down here and there's plenty of them out there.”

"What if it becomes something like with Vinyl, where all we talk about is music? I mean, I like Care Package and Spectrum because we've been able to talk about more than that."

"You're not looking for 'another Vinyl', Octavia. Sometimes it's important to remember that each pony has something different about them."

Octavia blushed and averted her eyes.

Noteworthy walked past Octavia and into the doorway, but turned around to face her with a wink. "Besides, I've been working with Neon for quite a while now, and let me tell you music is not his only interest." Then he walked back down the hall.

Octavia waited a moment before walking out after Noteworthy, thinking. Noteworthy had been a good friend of hers for years, and she trusted his judgements and feelings. If they shared some common interests and he shared those and thought well of Neon, it might be worth it to at least try going.

It was nearly nine o’clock before her guests began to leave; Arpeggio led Frederic, Noteworthy, and Fleur de Lis off to the train back to Ponyville with promises of reviewing the piece within a week. Care Package and Spectrum stayed behind a little longer, talking, but soon decided on leaving themselves.

“Um, before you go,” Octavia said, “can I ask you two something?”

“Sure,” Care Package said. “What do you want to know?”

“Do either of you actually know Neon Lights?”

“He was in my class in school,” Spectrum said. “We’re on relatively frequent speaking terms.”

“So… are you friends?”

“In a sense,” Spectrum said, “but he’s often been out in Manehattan until about a year ago. It’s only recently we’ve been able to get back into steady contact with one another again.”

Octavia nodded. “Um, do you two think you could come with me to the album release party? I… I don’t think I’d fit in with the rest of the ponies there.”

“Of course,” Care Package said. “We could introduce you to some other ponies there, too. By the way, how’s the tutoring agreement with Cheerilee going?”

“Good. Thank you so much for telling me about that, Care Package. You two have been rather kind to me despite only knowing me for a little over a month.”

“It’s a thing in Ponyville to make friends easily and help others make friends,” Spectrum spoke up. "We're a small town, so everyone knows everyone else here."

“Well, thank you. To be completely honest, you two are the first friends I’ve made here.”

“I’m surprised,” Care Package said. “You seem like a rather nice mare, if a little reserved, now that we’ve really gotten to know you.”

As she sat on her patio, long after she watched Care Package and Spectrum fly off into the night, Octavia thought long and hard about what to do.

Chapter 8 - Recorderz

Octavia sat in front of her bathroom mirror adjusting her tie. Her mane and tail were delicately brushed, her teeth expertly cleaned, and her hooves finally manicured. She had been invited to Neon’s party, and having no idea what it would be like for the release of an electronic album, had spared no expense in making herself look neat.

“This is the fifth time you’ve adjusted that bow tie,” Care Package said, snapping Octavia out of her reverie. “It’s not going to be that fancy.”

“I know, I know!” Octavia said, turning around to face Care Package standing at the entry to the bathroom. “I just… I like to look presentable when going somewhere.”

Care Package was smiling at her. “Well, you look very presentable. But this isn’t a Canterlot dinner party. Things like this are a little more informal.”

Octavia straightened the tie one more time. Even at the clubs she’d been to in Canterlot, it was natural for her to at least look nice upon going out somewhere; time spent on grooming was partly seen as a status symbol, but also Octavia viewed herself as a mature mare and noticed she tended to get a bit more respect if she had herself cleaned up.

But she didn’t tell Care Package that. She thought he might not understand, coming from smaller cities than Canterlot. “I just like to look nice,” she said. “It’s something left over from my mother.”

“Well, you’ll be the prettiest mare at the party,” Care Package said kindly. “Come on; we should get going. You have the invitation?”

Octavia walked over to the kitchen and picked up the invitation from the counter. She folded it neatly and tucked it into the collar holding the bow tie on her neck. “There. I’m ready.”

Care Package nodded. “Spectrum will be meeting us there.”

Octavia and Care Package left the house on the hill and walked down into Ponyville’s main streets towards the main square. Off in the distance, Octavia could see bright, multi-colored lights shining down into the cool of the night and could hear music – the muffled sounds of synthesizers, drums, and guitar. They turned at the main square and headed towards small plaza that contained Recorderz music shop.

The other shops in the plaza were closed, the windows dark and the aisles inside were lifeless. But Recorders was plastered with posters of Neon’s face, or of minimalist profile shots of him in what almost looked like a standard black collar shirt and red tie. Bright lights shown around and flashed red, white, blue, orange, pink; inside the color scheme was completely covered in a bright blue that turned everything monochrome.

A velvet-like rope was attached to posts and formed a line along the edge of the plaza, crossing in front of the darkened shops. Ponies filled the line and Octavia found herself surprised when it looked like the line stretched around towards the back of the plaza.

Thank Celestia for the invitation, Octavia thought to herself. She would not have liked to spend time in that line; a large pony dressed entirely in black guarded the door and only let in small groups at a time, and only when another had left. Who knew how long it would have been just to enter the shop.

Care Package poked Octavia’s shoulder. “Spectrum’s over there. We’ll probably be there in a few minutes. Go on in; show him the invitation.” He pointed to the pony dressed in black.

Octavia gulped and watched wistfully as Care Package went off to join Spectrum. She looked at him for a while and wished that one of them would be able to join her so that she wouldn’t be in there alone even for a few minutes. She walked nervously up to the pony in black, noticing a police baton as the cutie mark and rough edges around the square jaw and a military mane-cut.

“Excuse me?” Octavia said quietly.

“No ponies allowed unless I say,” the pony said sternly. “If you want in, get in the back of the line, miss. I ain’t allowed to let anyone in until someone comes out.”

“Uh… I-I’ve got an invitation.” The words came out a little stronger than before, but Octavia still wasn’t sure what to do.

“Psht. They all say that,” he said dismissively. “So many fanmares comin’ in here sayin’ that they got an invitation to a private party. I’ve got orders; I ain’t lettin’ you in.”

Octavia remembered the paper tickling at her neck. She took it out with a hoof and handed it to him. “You want proof? Here’s proof.”

The guard took it and opened it. He scanned it for a minute before nodding and pulling up a walkie-talkie from behind him. “What’s your name, miss?”

For a moment, Octavia stood still and silent. Was he part of the police? No; he didn’t look like one, or at least like one of the guard that she’d seen walking around here. Wait a miunte… I remember now. He must be a bouncer. Probably just going to check a guest list or something. “Octavia.”

The guard pressed a button on the walkie-talkie. “Neon. Hey, I got a mare out here with an invitation.” There was a burst of static and a muffled voice that Octavia could not recognize over the crowds and the music, slowly coming to a close. “Says her name’s Octavia. Grey mare, purple treble-clef cutie mark.” The voice came again for a minute. “Alright. I got it.”

The guard put the walkie-talkie back and stood in front of the line of ponies. “Neon gave the green light. You’re in, miss.”

Octavia nodded and walked inside. The music slowed to a stop and a new song started up. A pulsing drum-beat filled the area, but there was the sound of cymbals and the hi-hat amongst the steady bass kick. The drum was joined with a bass guitar putting out a steady eight-note pattern – five high, three low – and at least three mixed synthesizers all following different patterns. The music followed different variations on its theme from time to time, and every once in a while was interjected with a voice that Octavia couldn’t understand properly though seemed to echo and fade in and out.

Even so, the pulsing beat rang in her ears and Octavia felt disoriented, especially once she’d walked a few steps into the room. Everything was an odd shade of blue that felt off and things were monochrome under the blue lights, making it hard to distinguish between the writhing mass of ponies whose coats looked no different from one another. The music combined with the conversation of dozens of ponies now filling the shop was almost mind-numbing and produced a constant stream of sound that made her head spin.

Octavia meandered around a bit, looking at cutie marks and trying to figure out the different ponies. Try as she might, she recognized no one and could barely make out any cutie marks under the blue light. She wished for the familiar red shock of hair that was Care Package or the rainbow cutie mark of Spectrum as a landmark in this mass of ponies.

By chance, Octavia stumbled her way to a table filled with what looked like blue versions of normal food. She noticed there were napkins but no plates, and grabbed a napkin and what looked like a sandwich of some sort. She bit into it tentatively and noticed it tasted vaguely of lettuce, tomato, and hay bacon and she enjoyed it. A cookie that she thought to be chocolate chip turned out to be a rather smooth oatmeal raisin, not disappointing but not entirely to be expected.

She didn’t bother with the hovering blue drink; the glass or plastic container that held it was nearly invisible in the monotone color, and she decided against tasting it until she knew what color it was and had a vague idea of what it could be. Who knows if it’s alcoholic or not if one can’t even have the vaguest sense of what it looks like… Not that I mind alcohol; I just prefer wine.

Octavia had two sandwiches and another cookie before daring to venture back out into the crowds. She tried once and found herself pushed and shoved around; unable to communicate with anyone, she was quickly disoriented and pushed back to the hors d’oeuvres. She picked up another sandwich and munched on it, unable to figure out what to do.

Finally, the music quieted and the lights changed. The shop began to take on its original color, and ponies started gaining back color and hues. There were still pulsing lights around in pink and blue and orange, but the reappearance of color made it so much easier to navigate. She saw a line beginning to form between two of the aisles, and finally the star of the night himself appeared under a giant poster of himself at the opposite corner of the store. At the entrance of the line was a booth selling copies of the CD, and Neon, with pen in his magic, was signing autographs and taking pictures.

And suddenly there was a lavender-grey pegasus with a rainbow cutie mark next to her and waving and smiling happily.

“Hey!” Spectrum seemed to be shouting at full volume, but even so barely made conversational volume. “How are you doing?”

“Disoriented,” Octavia shouted back. “The noise is all blending together. My head hurts.”

“It’s hot in here, too,” Spectrum said. “Your disorientation might be due to heat. Get it all the time in the weather factory. Come on; there’s a water bowl over here.”

Spectrum swiftly grabbed two cups from the hors d’oeuvres table with his wings and led Octavia to a large bowl filled with a clear liquid. He filled up one cup and brought it to his nose, inhaling deeply, before filling the other one and handing it over.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “It’s clean. I just smelled it; no alcohol far as I can tell.”

Octavia took a sip. Almost immediately she felt better as the cool water ran down her throat. She gulped heartily and picked up another one, feeling herself become less disoriented.

“Where’s Care Package?” Octavia shouted.

“He’s off getting an autograph for us. Cost me all my money to let the bouncer let us in, twenty each for the tickets and another ten to get in and I’m cleaned out.”

“What about Neon?” Octavia asked. “Is there any way I can talk to him? What about my invitation?”

“No guarantee we’ll get him alone. But wait until the line gets down a little. We’ll pick you up an album for yourself and at least get you an autograph.”

Octavia got herself another glass of water. She felt weak. Spectrum seemed to pick up on it and took her to a relatively empty corner of the store and sat her down before refilling the water and bringing her a sandwich. Octavia ate and drank and felt better.

“You ever been to something like this before?” Spectrum asked.

Octavia shook her head. “I’ve been to Canterlot clubs before,” Octavia said. “But usually it was a larger room than this.”

Spectrum nodded. “Too many ponies in too tight quarters. I think they might be getting the point now; the ponies are starting to thin out and they’re not letting more in.”

Octavia noticed he was right. The crowds were beginning to disperse and the bouncer seemed to be limiting the amount that came in; Octavia could finally see Care Package’s shock of red mane three ponies away in line to see Neon. Off in the corner, Neon himself had taken a short break from autographs to talk on his own walkie-talkie.

“Did you bring any bits?”

“I assumed I wouldn’t need to. I didn’t think about the album, but I don’t think I need it anyway.”

“You should get one anyway. Be a nice gesture considering he got you in free.”

Octavia felt a little guilty even though Spectrum hadn’t meant to mean it that way. It had completely gone over her head in anticipation and nervousness coming up to the event and the thought that she was getting in free.

“Don’t worry,” Spectrum said. “I’m sure Care Package will have a few spare bits.”

But Care Package didn’t even get an autograph for himself. Right when Care Package was about to come up, Neon suddenly put another call in his walkie-talkie. Within seconds, another pony came out from the back of the store and put a sign on the table and closed off the line. Neon himself retreated to the back room and Care Package trotted over mournfully.

“He’s taking a break,” he said upon reaching them. “Said he needs dinner and hasn’t eaten yet.”

“What time is it?” Octavia asked. “It can’t be that late. We got here about six.”

“It’s seven-fifteen,” Spectrum said, looking at a clock towards the entrance of the store. “We were waiting in line for twenty minutes.”

Octavia gasped. “…oh god! I didn’t realize we’d been here that long.”

“Don’t worry,” Spectrum said. “They’re not going to kick us out. He’ll probably only be out for ten minutes.”

“Then the line will be all full again,” Octavia said irritably. “It’ll take forever to be able to talk to him, and even then I might only be able to for a few minutes.”

“It’ll go until ten tonight,” Spectrum said. He came over and placed a hoof on Octavia’s shoulder. “I’m sure you could go to his house tomorrow, if what CP says about you knowing him is correct.”

“I’ve met him a few times,” Octavia said. “I don’t really know him.”

She sat down again and rubbed her eyes with her hooves. She heaved a huge sigh. “I don’t even know why I came here. I keep having my friends from Canterlot tell me I need to get out more, and I thought I could do so with him. I thought I’d be able to actually talk to him and instead I’m greeted with the sound of thudding noise and so many ponies I can’t tell who’s who, and it’s crowded and I’m hot and I’m tired and the music hurts my head and it feels like a club in Canterlot and I kind of want to go home.”

And with a suddenness that even took her by surprise, Octavia bust out sobbing. She felt stressed out and confused from the lights and the noise and the music and the way time just seemed to slow down.

Octavia was reminded of the last time she’d been in a Canterlot club. It had been nearly eight months ago now when she’d gone in with Vinyl and Trance Rhythm and a few of their friends. They had eaten some rather delicious street tacos and fries before heading to the club for a couple of drinks and some dancing.

It had been at the end of the point where Octavia had convinced herself she’d be doing the same thing but in different circumstances with her friends. Which was true; a few weeks later, she would be drinking wine and dancing ballroom dances with Frederic and others from the band. Now, it was cocktails and strange dance movements that were more fluid than the rigid formality of the classic two-step and the ronde.

She allowed Vinyl to pick the drink for her that night. It was one of the lightest drinks available; a fruity mixture that tasted like strawberries, mangoes, and lemonade with a vodka kick. It was a sweet flavor and Octavia drank it down easily. After which, Vinyl had pulled her over to the dance floor and they’d begun to dance.

But after a while the alcohol began to kick in. Octavia began stumbling moreso than dancing, and eventually tripped and fell and had difficulty getting up. She swore she didn’t have that much alcohol – only the one light drink – but suddenly she’d come up with a headache, her stomach felt like it was writhing within her, and all sound suddenly became a ringing in her ears.

Vinyl and Trance had picked her up and took her to a table off to the side and got her a glass of water, but that hadn’t even cleared it up. She felt sick and like she was about to throw up. Vinyl had a set later that night, but she immediately went to the MC and told him that the pony ahead of her could go on a little longer; she needed to attend to something and she’d be right back.

After she had talked with the MC, Vinyl took Octavia back to the apartment. She had not left until Octavia had gotten another drink of water, taken a nice hot shower, and had taken an acetaminophen. Octavia had gone to bed immediately afterwards, and Vinyl left to go to her set.

Octavia ended up waking up two hours later and calmed herself down with a record and a book. But then she had decided she couldn’t take it anymore. The pounding bass and the flashing lights were too much for her, and she decided she could not take another minute in a place that that. Vinyl understood the first few times, but after the second time when Octavia adamantly refused, Vinyl said she just had a bad night.

Octavia now knew, standing there with Care Package and Spectrum, having not had any alcohol and yet feeling sick and tired and disoriented, that it wasn’t just a bad night.

Care Package gently lifted her up. “Come on,” he said. “Maybe we should get home.”

Spectrum went and grabbed a napkin, offering it to Octavia. She smiled weakly at him and accepted it, using it to dry her eyes. Once Octavia had calmed down a bit, they started walking towards the door.

“Miss Octavia?”

The three stopped and turned around. Behind them was Neon Lights, his shirt and tie and glasses off. He looked smaller and more normal without the collared shirt and tie, his hair looking like he’d been sweating a lot and pushing it around with his hoof, which he did shortly after Octavia turned around.

“Oh, Neon!” Octavia said, eyes widening for a moment. “I… I was about to leave.”

“I know,” Neon said, looking relieved. “I wanted to catch you before you go.”

“Well, I’m here. Do you… want to talk?”

“Yeah. But, if you don’t mind, think we could do so over there?” He pointed to a table that had been set up in the far corner by where the autographs were. “Might be less noise and less eyes.”

Octavia turned to Care Package and Spectrum, looking for any sort of assistance. I don’t know what to do… I don’t want to do it alone.

But Spectrum gently placed a hoof on her shoulder. “Go,” he said. “We’ll wait for you.”

Octavia nodded and turned around to Neon. “I guess… yes. Yes, I’ll go for a few minutes.”

Neon smiled. “Alright. Come on.”

Author's Note

No, not quite off hiatus yet. It's been sitting here for a while. I might start it up again, though.

Chapter 2 - 'Ponyville Properties for Rent'

One week later dawned with the sound of a bass pounding in Octavia’s ears.

A short while later, as Octavia rolled over to check her alarm clock and saw the multi-colored digital numbers reading eight forty-five. She pressed a button on the alarm clock only to find the pounding in her ears wouldn’t stop. Then the pounding went up into her brain and she realized she wasn’t really hearing a bass but feeling a headache. A wine glass lay toppled over on her nightstand, a little pool of red at the bottom of it.

Octavia rubbed her head, trying to push away the headache. When that didn’t work, she got out of bed and walked to the bathroom. The bright colors and the pulsing of the light blinded her when she turned it on, and it took her longer than usual to get over the feeling. She took a small toothglass of water and a pair of aspirin from the cabinet and downed them both in one swallow before jumping into the shower.

When she finished the shower, Octavia stepped out and dried herself off with a towel, not wanting to step under the giant speaker in the ceiling. It was supposed to dry her off using sound waves, but it racked her body too much and she thought she would break a bone in there from the pounding. Her headache had gone away now and she felt better.

Outside, her roommate’s room door was closed and the strobe lights had stopped shining underneath it. She pressed an ear to the door and heard a snoring coming from behind it. Octavia thought for a moment about the time and day. It was a Saturday, the start of a weekend; Vinyl would have been out almost all night last night at a gig and would have one later tonight after sleeping the first one off.

Octavia went to the door and opened it, picking up the Saturday newspaper and bringing it inside. She took the wrapping off the outside and opened it up while a pot of coffee brewed. She opened the paper and began to read, sitting at the bar in the kitchen.

By the time the coffee had brewed, Octavia had gone through all the major headlines and had found an insert in the paper. She pulled it out and set it aside as she poured herself a cup of coffee and a splash of cream and toasted an English muffin before returning to the insert.

The insert was labeled ‘Welcome Abode Real Estate: Ponyville Properties for Rent’. The front was a picture of a small cottage of pink and yellow with a thatched roof. Octavia found herself pleased by the more muted colors, enough to make it bright and welcoming but not blinding like Vinyl’s taste in color was. She opened it up and read the intro segment, done in a pretty yet readable font and black text on a sky blue background.

Hello! My name’s Welcome Abode, and I want to help you find the perfect house to rent or buy. I have fifteen years in the business and I know the ins and outs of the market and can help you find your dream house or apartment.

Over the last few years, Ponyville has become a burgeoning young town in southern Equestria. Only a forty-minute train ride from Canterlot, it’s friendly and relaxed atmosphere makes it the perfect retreat from city life, and it’s wholesome and close-knit community make it the perfect place to settle down. Taste the sweet life with dessert at Sugarcube Corner, indulge your cultured side at the Golden Oaks Library, let your fashion dreams run wild at Carousel Boutique, or take a quiet nature walk through the Whitetail Woods. For music lovers, make sure to check out the Ponyville Players for a more refined experience, the Gilded Mic for a more modern touch, and check out Recorderz for all the latest albums from your favorite artists and up-and-coming new talent.

So come on down to Ponyville, make some new friends, and find yourself enraptured by the new life that’s waiting for you here!

Just below the blurb was a number.

Octavia looked through. There were four pages of houses, three available on each page and all shown in full color with square feet, available amenities, and prices. The final two pages were for apartments, giving out complexes, room types, and numbers.

Two of the houses actually fit Octavia’s budget. The first was a small house located towards the center of town, close to the main streets and attractions but was only barely larger than her studio apartment for 600 bits a month. The other one, located on a small hill at the edge of town, had a full-sized bedroom, a combined living room and dining room, a small but fully-stocked kitchen, and a separate office and sun room for 850 bits a month.

Octavia thought about it. Six hundred bits a month would leave her plenty to work with and be able to furnish the place as she wanted. It would also leave space available for her to be able to take the train to Canterlot on occasion. The other house looked better and was in a more prime location, but she wondered if she would have enough left over to build something from it.

Octavia had given the issue deep thought over the last week. She and Vinyl barely spoke to one another now, only figuring out what times the other was leaving and coming home. They paid their part of the rent and utilities and mostly let the other be.

So when she saw the insert in the paper, Octavia was very much tempted to jump on the offer. It felt a little hard on Vinyl, but she couldn’t stand the behavior anymore. She wished she could end it on better terms. But if living with Vinyl meant getting into an argument any time the conversation extended past formalities, moving out was a very serious option.

“Good mornin’ sunshine!”

Vinyl’s room opened up with a bang! and she came out singing at the top of her lungs. Her eyes were closed and she had a pair of headphones on.

“Good mornin’ sunshine, the day is awake! It’s time to brush the sleep away; this day is yours to take! I’m singin’ and I’m dancin’ to embrace this morn! It’s time for carpe diem, babe; today a new you is born!”

The fridge was opened as Vinyl danced into the kitchen and pulled out a protein shake from her own shelf. Octavia looked at the clock. It was hardly ten o’clock. A new record; Vinyl never woke up before noon.

Vinyl continued singing and dancing around the kitchen as she made her way to where Octavia was sitting with her English muffin. One half had been eaten with butter and jam, but the other half was still waiting for butter. Vinyl picked up the remaining half as Octavia’s head slumped forwards with her head on the bar.

“Good evenin’ moonshine, this night is alright! It’s time to go and party and we ain’t goin’ without a fight! Don’t take me off the dance floor, I’m feelin’ star-struck! Tonight I’m gonna dance, and I don’t give a– hey!”

Vinyl stopped singing for a moment and took off her headphones, taking a bite of the English muffin. “Watcha lookin’ at, Tavi?” she asked through a mouthful of bread.

How exactly do I put this lightly…? “I’m looking at houses in Ponyville.” Octavia muffled through the bar and the paper.

“Cool. Oh, hey!” Vinyl’s hoof rocketed outwards and slammed on the counter, causing Octavia to jump. Her hoof was pointed at one of the houses. “This one looks nice!”

Octavia looked at it. Fourteen hundred bits per month, three bedroom, two bathroom, living room, dining room, kitchen, office, sunroom, laundry room. Enough for two separate ponies and a guest bedroom. Almost immediately, she knew what Vinyl was thinking.

Octavia got up from the counter and turned towards Vinyl. “Um… I was thinking… I need to get away from here. You know, de-stress.”

“Sure! You thinkin’ about calling the number? Cause I would totally love a look at one or two of these!”

“Vinyl… I want to get away. And… I think we need some time apart.”

Vinyl raised an eyebrow in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Well, I was thinking, we keep arguing a lot. I thought it might be a good idea for us to spend some time apart… living in a different place.”

Vinyl frowned. “Tavi, I understand you want to have some time to get away. I don’t understand why that means you need to buy a house and move.”

“Vinyl, I don’t know if I can even be in the same city as you. And a week away at a spa or something like that, as appetizing as it is, might not be enough.”

“Look, just tell me what’s wrong. I promise I can change.”

“You want me to tell you what’s wrong? What’s wrong is that there’s a constant pounding in my head from your bass. There’s constant bickering because neither of us can decide what to do. There’s constant conflict because we were supposed to be a couple but now neither of us can agree on how to do things. You don’t like what I do, and I can’t stand what you do.”

“That doesn’t mean I don’t love you.”

“Really? How can you say you don’t love me when you won’t even accept the little things I do? I give you tickets to see me in concert. I invite you out to dinner so that we could have time to have a little romantic evening, but you don’t. You go off to clubs I can’t stand and play music that shrieks and bangs my body around. Tell me you love me when you don’t make the time for me.”

"What about all the stuff I do, huh? You don't even show up to my own performances when I'm releasing new tracks. You don't allow me to spend time with my friends; you want to hog me to your friends and not them even though you were once fine with them. I at least try to include you in everything I do, and really want to patch things up again."

“Let’s face it. Our interests don’t match up. You don’t like what I do and I can’t stand what you do.”

“That doesn’t mean we don’t have any common ground.”

“Vinyl… our first three months we talked about music theory. We can’t do any more. We like music, sure, but our tastes are different. So are movies, books, food, activities, culture, games, even our sense of space.”

Vinyl’s voice became bitter again. “You know what? I do kind of hate that about you. Not just dislike, hate. You always look at the negative. Whenever we go somewhere, you always talk about how you don’t like that or you don’t like that. I might not like it either, but at least I keep my mouth shut.”

“Well, I prefer if you told me about it.”

“I’m trying not to hurt you.”

“It hurts me more when you don’t tell me these things. I thought having a relationship was about telling each other everything. I pour myself out to you and you don’t say a damn thing.”

Vinyl snorted. “Alright. I hate your stuffy attitude. I hate your constant drinking whenever I come home late. I hate the friends you have because they always look at me like I’m a weirdo. I hate your taste in books, I hate your taste in old movies, I hate the artists you like, and I hate your preoccupation with your cello!”

Octavia blinked for a little bit. “You... you really think that about me?”

Vinyl’s nodded. "Tavi, you need to open up a little. You spend all your time in your own little world you don't take stock that something else is out there. Remember our first few months? They were fun, weren't they? Why didn't you tell me when it became a problem instead of just locking yourself away from me?"

Octavia sniffed a little. Had she really done that? Perhaps she had. But how would that have changed anything? "Well, I... I didn't know how you'd respond to that."

Vinyl looked sadly at Octavia. "Well, it may not have ended in shouting like we seem to do lately."

"Our differences would have remained. We would have yelled at each other eventually."

Vinyl frowned. "You know what? I'm going to go into my room and listen to music, and we'll try again when you're not being so dour." And she walked away.

Octavia rubbed her eyes, feeling a bit of wetness roll down her nose. She took a deep breath to calm herself and picked up the receiver of an electric blue phone and dialed the number found in the insert. The phone rang three times before a friendly female voice picked up the other end and answered in a light, amiable tone.

“Hello! Thank you for calling! My name is Welcome Abode, owner of Welcome Abode Real Estate! How can I help you?”

Octavia was surprised the other end of the line actually picked up, but recovered quickly and began speaking. “Hello, my name is Octavia and I was interested in a few of the houses you had available for rent.”

“Oh, how exciting! We have some beautiful properties for rent and for sale down here in Ponyville. First of all, how did you hear about us?”

“I live in Canterlot and you had an insert with some properties available in our newspaper.”

“Excellent. Looking for a retreat away from the city? We have a couple of properties available for either a more country or a more modern look. What sort are you interested in?”

“I actually have a couple of ideas in mind from the insert. You had two properties – one at 600 bits a month and one at 850 bits a month – that I was interested in.”

“Oh, our Townhouse and Hillside Retreat properties are both excellent! Our Townhouse property has recently been remodeled and now boasts a perfect combination of country living and modern conveniences, and the Hillside Retreat has been designed to help inspire an artist’s muse and comes with a full kitchen and laundry room set with no extra cost.”

“Sounds nice. Um… do you think I could come down there today?”

“Let’s see… what time do you think you’ll be in town?”

Octavia looked back at the clock. It was now ten-seventeen. “How does noon sound to you?”

“Excellent! I know you’re coming from Canterlot, so I’ll meet you at the train station and we’ll head out to lunch while we discuss your housing options and financing. Sound like a good idea to you?”

“Sounds perfect.”

“Alright. I’ll just need your name and cutie mark.”

“My name is Octavia, and I have a purple treble clef cutie mark.”

“Alrighty… okay, Octavia, I have you down at noon. I’ll meet you at the train station. I’ll have a blonde mane and a red jacket on. See you soon!”

“See you soon.”

Octavia set down the receiver and walked over to Vinyl’s room. Sure enough, the unicorn was sitting in her room on her bed, looking through a photo album. Octavia dared not enter farther, lest it be something Vinyl would use to manipulate her.

The thought struck Octavia as odd – Vinyl hadn’t done so before – but for some reason she found it not too far a stretch if Vinyl really hated her as much as she said she did.

“I’m leaving for Ponyville,” Octavia said emotionlessly. “I'll be back sometime this evening, but I don't know when.”

Vinyl nodded. “I have a gig tonight. I’ll be back around midnight.”

Octavia nodded back and left without a word.

Twenty minutes later, Octavia had her saddlebags ready and was at the station and had purchased a ticket for the next train to Ponyville. She bought a small egg sandwich from a nearby stall and ate it on the platform as she waited for the train, enjoying the crisp air of morning in early spring. A few families and couples were on the platform with her, some carrying picnic baskets and blankets.

The train sidled up to the platform at ten minutes to eleven. Octavia took her ticket up to the car and let the conductor punch her ticket before stepping on the train. She was in a high-class coach car with private compartments and plush seats and reclining chairs. She found a compartment that was unoccupied and settled down. She pulled a book out of her saddlebags and began to read.

At eleven ten, there was a gentle rocking and the train started off. The engine whistled two short times and gave a long third as it gently crept out of the station and slowly traveled through the streets of Canterlot.

Octavia looked out the window once or twice and reflected how long it had been since she last left the city, and wondered with some trepidation about where she was going. It had been so long since she had been on her own like this and felt herself shivering at the thought of heading off to a new town entirely. Alas, she was already on the train and they had already left the platform, and so Octavia resigned herself to the trip, telling herself it wouldn’t hurt to look.

Just when Octavia felt ready to scream for the train to stop, they left Canterlot and the train picked up speed as it started heading down the mountain. The stone walls of Canterlot gave way to towering mountains looking over green fields and forests covered in pine and oak. The change of scenery was so immediate it took the mare’s breath away and the scream dropped out of her throat as it changed to gasps of awe.

So many things I’ve been missing cooped up with Vinyl, Octavia thought. All this time I’ve been focused on her and missing so much…

The book was forgotten as the train suddenly sped through a tunnel. Octavia had been on trains and through tunnels before, but for some reason this one was different, unfamiliar. They rushed into the blackness and soon Octavia was doused in darkness; there were no lights in the car to see. Just when Octavia thought they were trapped in the tunnel, they burst out and she was blinded by a bright light.

When the light finally faded, Octavia could see they were travelling over a bright and sunny field. Trees swayed and danced in the light breeze, and fields of flowers provided splashes of color in the style of a patchwork quilt. Despite the fact that they were arranged in an assortment of random patterns, they seemed more natural and didn’t hurt her eyes to look at. The skies were much clearer than those over Canterlot, and Octavia felt like she wanted to stick her head outside the window and open her front hooves wide.

She managed to restrain herself, but she couldn’t stop staring even as she gathered the contents back into her saddlebag. The scenery was so beautiful, even more so when there wasn’t someone pounding bass over it or talking constantly through it.

A few minutes later, a town appeared on the horizon. A bunch of small country and town houses surrounded two large buildings and a giant oak tree. The closer building was made of three tiers of alternating wood bases and beige stucco walls; while the farther building was more of a cone that reminded Octavia of a carousel she had seen and was painted in purple and white.

“Attention passengers,” came the sound of a mare’s voice over the P.A. system through the train. “We will be reaching Ponyville shortly. Please gather your things and wait for the porter to come and open your door.”

Octavia finally broke from the spell of the scenery passing the window and gathered up her saddlebags. She carefully moved towards the front of the car and held on to a nearby pole with her hoof as the train began to slow down. Through the window in the door she could see them go through a small copse of trees before emerging into the town.

It was even more quaint and charming up close. The houses were built with thatched roofs and with a wood and stone mixture with stucco on some of the outsides; some of the older ones even looked like wattle-and-daub style. The town had no real roads but a bunch of dirt paths and a large town center with a large fountain with statues of two earth ponies in front of the brown and white wood and stucco building.

The train came to a stop, and within a few moments the porter was at Octavia’s door and opening it. The mare stepped out of the car and was hit with a blast of cool air, not crisp or chill as the wind in Canterlot was, but pleasant and breezy with the smell of rain in the air. Then the sun came down through the clear sky and warmed her through the coat to the bone and she could feel the beginnings of a smile on her face.

At the end of the platform by the ticket booth stood a brown mare with a blonde mane that was wavy in the back with bangs that curled in towards the front. She looked around with light blue eyes for a while, and Octavia could see a house with what looked like a sun or a halo behind it on her flank. She wore a red jacket with golden buttons on her chest and a bronze-colored pin. Shortly afterwards she spotted Octavia and walked over to her.

“You must be Octavia, right?” the mare asked, her voice warm and slightly peppy.

Octavia nodded. “Yes. You must be Welcome Abode.” She brought up a hoof.

Welcome Abode held out her own hoof. “At your service! Well, it’s twelve-ten. Why don’t I show you out to lunch? There’s a great little café not too far from here.”

“Lunch sounds like a good idea, Miss, uh...” Octavia followed Welcome Abode down the steps of the platform and down the dirt road that led through the town.

“Oh, you can just call me Abode,” the brown mare said. “Most ponies have very informal relations with another around here and barely call each other by their full names.”

“Well, I only have one,” Octavia said. “Shouldn’t be too hard to remember.”

“Not at all. Octavia is a beautiful name. Now, come come, we can discuss your available financing options over lunch.”

Welcome Abode led Octavia to a colonial-style building and opened the double glass doors for her. Inside was a warm atmosphere of reds and browns lit by a combination of larger electrical lamps and older oil lamps. A counter held an assortment of pies and guarded a kitchen, while many wooden tables and chairs were scattered around the floor.

A host came up and motioned them towards a table. The café was light and cheery with the sounds of laughter and multiple conversations. They were sat down at a table and given menus and glasses of water with the promise a waiter would be there shortly.

“This is one of the mid-level places,” Welcome Abode was saying. “There are three cafés and they’re all in the mid-level price range. At the high end we have two fancy restaurants, but I’ll show you those later on the tour.”

“It’s actually rather nice,” Octavia said. “I go to a few cafés like this back in Canterlot.”

“Ponyville is a nice combination of many of the major cities. We have some of the café culture of Canterlot, the western fruit markets and market nights of Los Pegasus and Vanhoover, the scenic vistas of Manehattan, and the community of Baltimare.”

“It certainly sounds nice. However, do be frank with me. Is there anything really… less positive about this town?”

Welcome Abode sipped her water. “I’m not going to lie to you. We are a little behind on the modern conveniences. And I gather from your name you’re probably a musician, and opportunities for you are a little scarce here in addition to having a rather small musical community.”

Octavia nodded. “There is the train ride to Canterlot.”

“Yes. That can eat a rather large hole in your budget. Sometimes you can get passes that might be better deals than buying individual tickets, and some businesses give discounts for mass transit travel options. I’d suggest consulting with them about available pricing options.”

A waitress came around. Octavia and Welcome Abode both ordered an ice tea, though Octavia ordered hers unsweetened and Abode sweetened. Octavia ordered a salad with a small fish filet for protein and Welcome Abode ordered a Prench dip with hay fries.

“Now,” Welcome Abode continued, “I must also say that while we have decent attractions here, most of the excitement around here does come from community. Ponyville is a very social town and often organizes many events. There’s a book club, a farmer’s association, a gardening group, a baked goods group, and so on and so forth.”

“Very quaint,” Octavia mused. “I remember large organizations in Canterlot and big events. It’s probably a nice town, though. It seems a lot quieter than Canterlot.”

“Yes,” Abode agreed. “Ponyville is rather quiet on weekends. Not much happens. It’s a time for rest and socializing. Most of the major associations and groups meet mid-week.”

“Yes...” Octavia mused. “Well, a book club might not be too bad, and a music club would be nice if they have one.”

“They do,” Abode replied. “They often have a guest or two come from Canterlot to practice with them. They’re small, but if I remember correctly and you were a headliner at the last concert in Canterlot, I’d say you’d have no trouble getting in and making yourself known.”

“I don’t need to be known, but it would be a nice diversion.”

“Well, let’s do financing. Easy for you, tough for me. I'll walk you through the pricing and amenities and we'll see if we can't work something out for you. But for now,” she said as their plates were served, “let us eat and then I’ll take you on the tour.”

* * *

The food was delicious. Octavia’s fish had a rather smoky flavor and was fresh and seasoned well with salt, pepper, and oil and her salad was filled with greens and reds and yellows and purples and topped with a fine vinaigrette dressing. Welcome Abode’s Prench dip looked very nice, with sliced roast eggplant and mushroom and covered in provolone cheese. Octavia made a mental note to remember this place.

Once they were done, Welcome Abode took Octavia on a short tour of Ponyville. She pointed out the white and purple building as Carousel Boutique, the giant oak tree as the Golden Oaks Library, and the wood and stucco building as the town hall. In front of the town hall was a large fountain plaza where the local farmers had market night every Thursday evening.

At the edge of the plaza, Welcome Abode took Octavia through a small lane of houses to what appeared to be the edge of town. They walked up a small hill and approached a white house with white stucco walls accented at the edges by polished dark oak wood and a pointed roof made of the same. A large window looked into a large open room and a small portico led to a burgundy-colored door with a bronze handle with a four-pane window. Almost immediately Octavia was taken by it.

"And here is our Hillside Retreat property," Welcome Abode said, motioning to the house. "Some ameneties included and 800 bits per month, just under your 900 range."

“It’s actually quite beautiful,” Octavia said. “I’m surprised something like that is available in a small town like this.”

Welcome Abode laughed as she searched the pocket of her red jacket. “Yes, many are. Give me one second here and I’ll open the door for you.” Abode fished out a small bronze key and stuck it in the lock. There was a small click and the door swung inwards.

Octavia stepped in and found herself in a small lobby covered in white tile. The inside walls were a clean white and the place looked sunny and bright. She stepped in further and found herself inside a large room. To her front was a kitchen area with white tile floors and granite counters with fine steel appliances. To her left was a wide archway leading to a large room – a combined dining room and living room – with a beige fireplace done in more of the white stucco accented with dark oak and a vaulted ceiling. A large window looked out all over Ponyville out front, and a look over a beautiful apple orchard in full bloom at the back window, with a sliding glass and screen door leading to an enclosed porch in the front of the house.

Down to the right was a wide hallway. The first door to the right led to a bathroom in sand-brown tile with a full shower, closet, and two entries; one from the hallway and the other from a bedroom. The bedroom had another large window that looked out over Ponyville and a wide closet taking up almost completely one wall. On the other side of the hall closest to the kitchen lay a small room that Octavia guessed was the office. In truth, it was large enough she could almost see it as a guest bedroom with a twin bed. Next door was the sunroom, a large porch-like area that looked barely separated from the outside by large but thick window panes that allowed for another view of the orchard and another cottage just outside the Whitetail Woods in the distance.

“I love this place,” Octavia said in awe as Welcome Abode finished explaining the details as they stood in the sunroom.

“Yes, it is definitely a rare find,” Abode said. “And while you have a lot of windows looking out, Ponyville is a very safe community. But, for extra protection, they are magically reinforced.”

Octavia looked in awe at the house.

“You know what?” Octavia said, turning to Welcome Abode, “I don’t even want to look at the other house. This is the one. I’m sure of it.”

“Are you sure? This is the one that was at the high end of your range.”

“You said you could find some sort of financing option to potentially lower the price, right? Then try your best.”

Welcome Abode’s mouth erupted into a large smile. “Of course! Now, I’ll just need your number and any extensions you might have; I’ll call you when I’ve got an offer.”

Octavia told the mare her number and warned her she was sharing an apartment with Vinyl. “She doesn’t take too kindly to me as of late,” she said. “She might not tell me about it or give you hell.”

“Don’t worry. By nature and by work, I’ve learned to be persistent. The quicker we can communicate, the quicker we can get you into the new house.”

Welcome Abode walked Octavia back to Ponyville Station. Octavia bought a ticket and Abode walked with her onto the platform. They talked for a little while longer about the town before the train pulled up and the doors opened.

“Well, thank you so much for showing me around,” Octavia said. “I really enjoy that house.”

“I’m glad you do,” Abode said. “And I’m sure it’ll be in well-cared hooves. If you have any more questions, you have my number.”

Octavia stepped on the train and waved farewell.

The whole of the train ride home felt shorter than it was. For the whole of fifty minutes, Octavia was lost in thought, already thinking of how she would decorate the house in Ponyville.

Her bed and dresser could go into the bedroom up against the window so she would wake with the morning sunlight. Her cello and a new desk and shelves for her music notes could go into the sunroom, and she could put a desk and a daybed in the office to make it an office and guest bedroom. Not that she’d have much company, she figured, but just in case someone like her mother came over.

She’d have to get a whole new dining room and living room set, as well as the daybed and desks she wanted. She herself only had enough for the bedroom and the sunroom. Even so, she had enough in savings and could continue working to fill the rest of the house. She could make it her own, without any of the garish touches Vinyl had placed in their apartment. And the windows and the light and the vaulted ceilings made it all the better to help accent.

And best of all, she was free to do what she wanted with the place. It allowed for give-and-take, for variation in her design. She could design it where the living room had her cello and equipment and the sunroom became a dining room and she would be happy. And her few belongings to start with made it easier for her to do whatever she wanted.

When the train pulled into Canterlot station, Octavia felt almost claustrophobic. The grey skies felt like they were coming closer to push her in amongst the crowded buildings. There were so many ponies on the streets she felt crowded in with the rest of them, pushing and shoving her way through to her apartment. Lights shone out of buildings and flickered on and off. It reminded her of…

Octavia shook her head and shook away the panic she was feeling and headed to the apartment. It was nearly five o’clock and she began to wonder what she wanted for dinner; if she wanted to go out to eat or if she wanted to cook something at home.

Octavia opened the door and heard nothing. For a moment, she wondered if Vinyl had already left for her gig despite the early hour. She was almost going to breathe a sigh of relief until she found Vinyl in the kitchen reading something. It took a moment for her to realize Vinyl was reading the insert.

“I thought you left,” Octavia said. “It’s quiet in here.”

“Yeah,” Vinyl said almost unemotionally. “Nearly drove myself mad with it.”

Despite knowing the answer, Octavia acted as though she didn’t see. “What are you looking at?”

“The houses for rent.” Vinyl got up from the couch and looked at Octavia. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

Octavia nodded. “I’ve applied for financing on one of them. One bedroom, one bathroom. Papers will be coming in later this week for me to sign.”

“And your job? Are you going to have to quit the symphony?”

“I can commute. Train to Canterlot only takes forty-five minutes or so. Things will be alright.”

Vinyl nodded. “I suppose…” She sighed. “Tavi, I still love you. I still want to make this work. But… I was thinking about our arguments over the last few weeks.”

“And what did you come up with?”

“…you were right. You were always right. From day one, when you were nervous about trying to start something because it might not work out. And so, for now, it hasn’t.”

“Wait. You said ‘for now’. Why’s that?”

“I want to try again someday. But… I understand. You want to get away. And, given our attitudes, it’s probably the best.”

Octavia nodded. “We still have a month or so before I move in. I’ll pay my rent and try to be more even-tempered until then.”

Vinyl nodded. “I’m going to talk with Trance Rhythm and see if he needs a place. We’ll arrange something for him to move in when you’re gone.”

Octavia raised an eyebrow and looked at Vinyl suspiciously. “Why are you making this easy? I would have expected us to have an argument about it.”

“Well, I do still love you.” There was a tenderness in Vinyl’s eyes that hadn’t been there in months, and Octavia knew she meant it. “It won’t be easy. But… it’s something we actually agree on. I don’t think we’ve had something like that happen for a while.”

Octavia suddenly felt bad. She started to say something, but choked on the words and had to cough to clear her throat. “Yeah. It is, isn’t it? Well… I admit I had some fun. It just isn’t for me.”

Vinyl ended up with a small smile. “It’s okay, Tavi. I guess your fun just isn’t for me, either.”

Octavia sighed and sniffed. She left Vinyl in the living room and went to take a shower. This next month would be filled with papers to sign from the realtor and the bank. Hopefully, the last month wouldn’t be hell before things finally settled down.