Vinyl Scratch laid on the couch and stared at the ceiling above. She made sure her head faced the blue wall: her side of the house.
She snapped away from the ceiling when the door opened.
"Good Morning, Vinyl. I finally bought the muffins and milk I promised."
Octavia walked in with a basket filled with muffins and milk hung on her right hoof, making sure she strode by the brown wall: her side of the house.
In response, Vinyl only gazed back, gave an understanding nod, then looked back up at the ceiling.
She didn't have her sunglasses on. She didn't have her headphones. She didn't even have the speakers played her favourite dubstep music. She only looked up at the ceiling.
However, when Vinyl is without her glasses Octavia could surely tell what was on her mind. Vinyl seemed to be at a war with herself, and by the gloomy looks of things, her doubt was winning.
"Vinyl, are you pondering something?"
Vinyl looked back at her to nod, then brought her eyes back to the ceiling.
Octavia still felt concern, but she knew that sometimes it was best to just mind her space. So she took one last glance at Vinyl to make sure she was okay.
"Vinyl, what's that?" She couldn’t help but notice that there was something wrapped in Vinyl’s hooves.
Vinyl Scratch knew that a conversation was on the rise, so she sat back up and levitated what she was holding to Octavia.
"Oh, is this another issue of DJs' Magazine...?" the magazine was opened to a seemingly specific page, so she read, "'The Ultimate DJ Contest'? Vinyl, are you considering to enter?" Octavia felt happy for Vinyl: she was never one to be active, so this might just give her an opportunity to make her special talent shine. Octavia regretted never looking into giving Vinyl the chance to explore her passion, so surely Vinyl must have been excited.
Vinyl shrugged.
"Oh, I see. You're weighing the pros and cons of whether or not you should."
Vinyl waved her hoof in a circle, tilted her head left and right, then finally gave a nod with a shrug.
"Well, let’s see the context first, I suppose," said Octavia as she read on, "Okay, it's in Baltimare, so it won't be that bad of a train ride. That many bits to enter? Surprisingly, we might afford it; it just means that supper will have to be cheap for a few months. Oh, Vinyl, look! The winner gets ten trillion bits and those who win in-- what’s this… loser’s bracket? So there is a miniature tournament to win if you lose the first time? Splendid! And you can still win quite handsomely there too!"
Octavia lowered the magazine. She wanted to show her excited expression to Vinyl. "Vinyl, why are you even considering this? I can hardly find a reason not to go! Even if you don't win the first time, at least we won’t return empty hoofed! Why ponder on this when it’s obviously possible!"
Octavia held eye contact for as long as she could, but Vinyl’s was waning. Eventually, Vinyl rolled her eyes and dropped on her back to turn her eyes to the ceiling again. Octavia wasn't exactly sure what it meant until Vinyl gave out a sigh: a sigh Octavia knew all too well.
"Oh, I see... you’re nervous, aren’t you?"
Vinyl nodded.
Octavia nudged Vinyl to scoot over so she could join her on the couch, with Vinyl sitting near the blue wall and Octavia closer to the brown.
"Vinyl..."
Vinyl looked away towards her wall.
"Vinyl, look at me,"
Vinyl hesitated before reluctantly turning her head. She made eye contact with her light pink eyes as Octavia looked into her red. Octavia could see not only worry but also the fear that Vinyl refused to admit. But Octavia knew Vinyl better; she could tell that Vinyl wanted to jump on this opportunity without a thought, but was too afraid to take a chance.
Octavia could at least relate to her problems: in her career she never really competed with her cello, but she did remember feeling quite nervous when she joined her first orchestra. What if she messed up? What if she wasn’t as great as she thought she was? Compared to regular ponies she was a master at the cello, but when compared to others who went to the same schools and practised the same art, she felt like an amateur.
But, as mentioned, she never competed. She at least at the luxury of second chances, but Vinyl wouldn’t have that. Her goal wasn’t to do just as well as the others for teamwork, her goal was to be the best. To win.
Vinyl broke her eye contact and brought her attention back to her wall.
"Vinyl..." Octavia shook her head and reworked her thoughts. "I'm your sister. I'll be there for you. No matter if you win or lose, I will still cheer you on. I promise."
Vinyl turned back to Octavia with the eyes of a little sibling looking up to their big sister, but she still seemed unsure.
"You should enter, Vinyl. I’m sure you can learn a lot from other DJs."
Vinyl heaved a sigh, then looked down and away from Octavia.
"Would some tea help?"
Vinyl nodded.
Ponies crowded around the train. Some in vocational attire, some in suits with suitcases, others not in anything at all. There was quite a bit of chatter: in excitement, in nervousness, or just in casualness.
Octavia breathed in the fresh air of Spring. She was finally able to put away her scarf after yesterday’s Winter Wrap Up. Today, Octavia wore her favourite bow-tie. But none of these things mattered; what she was happy about was that Vinyl had decided to give the contest a try. She was fidgeting with her navy scarf. Usually, her blaring music from her C.Head-3 headset helped settle her mind, but her anxiety at the moment was stronger than the heaviest of music.
Octavia tapped her on the shoulder.
Vinyl hardly even noticed.
With a smile, Octavia settled with just wrapping a hoof around her.
Vinyl dropped her hooves and let go of her scarf. She inhaled, then exhaled: her breathing technique.
Octavia rubbed her by the shoulder. She couldn’t help but admire her timing as the train screeched and dragged its way to the station.
“ALL ABOARD!”
Vinyl levitated her full blue bags, Octavia lifted her suitcase. Some ponies prepped themselves while others shot their attention to the doors. Many a pony share hugs, greetings, and hoof bumps in reunion with relatives, friends, and acquaintances.
Those who were there for the train waited for the leaving swarm before they entered.
Octavia and Vinyl established spots. Octavia had her side of the seat with her case placed on the one in front of them. Vinyl had her side, with her bags and equipment stored in the far back of the train along with the other large and overstuffed bags.
Vinyl leaned back and lazily arched her head to face the window. The landscape seemed to move: the mountains rose and fell, the grass stampeded, and the clouds slide behind.
Octavia watched along with Vinyl before turning to focus on her book, The Mare in the Meadow. Withering Shrub was still an enigma to Timber Scout. Timber Scout was getting obsessed with finding her origins. Why was she in the wood every night, why does she hide when he calls her name, and why does her mane flow like that of the Sun Princess?
Timber Scout was tiptoeing, careful not to startle the strange mare this time. Octavia never liked how he decided to arm himself: bringing a gun to a supernatural event in any story would only provoke the favonian to attack, much like carrying a sign that says ‘please disintegrate me and send me to Tartarus’. But by Timber’s logic, the strange mare could have been dangerous. Curiosity may be a dangerous poison at times of survival, but a weapon was going a bit too far in Octavia’s case.
No matter, Timber seemed to be engaging her now. The narrator had finally finished their long drawl of the scenery for the fifth time and was now getting to the suspense. He had already failed twice, so naturally, it must work this time. Octavia scoffed at the writer’s attempt at this. An experienced reader can tell from a mile away whether or not a character dies.
There she was: Withering Wood, grazing as if nopony was around. ‘As if no pony was around’? Could you be more blatant than that, H.N. Troy? Sarcasm aside, the story had Octavia’s full attention. The stallion was just about to jump her, to pin her to the ground for answers. For her origin, for her love--
Gone was the whimsical forest from her mind.
Perhaps by accident, Vinyl seemed to have drifted off and dropped her head by her flank. Octavia bookmarked her story and stroked her messy mane. It still amused her that despite this look being dead since a few decades ago, Vinyl didn’t care. Much to how Octavia herself never really got into the trends of her foalhood, and instead opted to the traditional mane style of Canterlot and the traditional way of Equestrian music.
Vinyl curled up and nestled by Octavia’s side.
Octavia flipped the page of her book back to where she was.
♫
The cities were busy and bustling. Octavia was accustomed to there being little chatter around the small dirt streets of Ponyville, or the quantified yet light and quiet whispers of Canterlot, but this was beyond what Octavia had seen or heard before.
“Wait, Vinyl!” Octavia had to grab her by the flank, “Bags first, then we go.”
‘This is not good’ Octavia thought to herself: she could already see the excited grin on Vinyl’s face. Octavia knew that if she didn’t keep an eye on her little sister, she just might get lost in the crowds and taking in all the sights.
Baltimare was a small but colourful place, filled with an energetic atmosphere and environment. Statues were depicting great Equestrian heroes and discoverers, there were about three large Broadway stages, and Celestia knew how many smaller theatres.
The stores came in so much variety and style that Vinyl might need a leash. There were stores of practical clothing, unpractical fashion, dramatic fashion, customs, and mixtures of anything in between. There was even a store dedicated solely to hats.
Vinyl’s shoulders dropped as if Octavia was telling her to never see the sights.
“We’ll see the buildings later, Vinyl!” Octavia yelled through the noise, “But right now we need to sign up for the tournament and find a hotel, okay?!”
Vinyl nodded.
“Good. Now, do stay still, we can’t-- Vinyl!”
Octavia barely managed to avoid a heart attack. It didn’t even take a second: all she had to do was let go, and poof! Off she went!
“Oh, Celestia, please guide me… excuse me, sir, had you seen a-- no, they’re not wanted, she’s my sister and-- hey…! Excuse me, ma’am, have you seen my sister, she's-- no, I am not! This isn’t even a bar! Oh, please, can you…? Oh Celestia’s feathers, this is pointless! I need to contact the authorities! Excuse me, excuse me, pardon, a thousand apologies, excuse-- no I do not know who you are and I do not care to know! Excuse me… excuse me… oh, finally. Excuse me, officer, have you seen-- VINYL! WHERE WERE YOU?! What are you doing?!”
In the middle of the massive train station, a crowd circled a couple of ponies tapping and dancing like mad to a few others playing trumpets and drums.
Amongst those ponies dancing was Vinyl, spinning under a pegasus’ hoof before Vinyl falling into her chest. They separated, now hoof to hoof and spinning and swinging to the beat. They broke up, and both found new partners, this one being a unicorn stallion with a white shirt and purple vest. They both started off by stepping side by side to see each other’s rhythm, then danced closer when they both quietly agreed on how they interpreted the beat.
The stallion looked quite experienced, perhaps native, but Vinyl was a fast learner.
Octavia never knew she was a fast learner.
The stallion tiptoed to the side and swung a hoof to the side. Vinyl mimicked it. He grabbed-vined, she mirrored. He did the twist, she followed.
Every move he made, she copied to the best of her ability.
After the stallion had his fun with her, they spun off and fled to new partners.
Octavia never knew Vinyl could dance. As she tried to ignore the music and the dancing to asses the situation, Vinyl made eye contact with her. Octavia couldn’t see her eyes through her violet sunglasses, but she knew the grin on her face.
Vinyl made a step.
“No, Vinyl.”
Vinyl made two steps.
“Vinyl…”
She bobbed her head and made three.
“Vinyl, we have no time for this!”
With each step to each beat, she pranced her way to Octavia.
“Vinyl, we-- wah!”
Vinyl grabbed her by the hoof and pulled her in. Octavia could see nothing but lines of colours of blurs as they spun faster than the speed of light. Before Octavia could even begin to process what was happening, she was right in centre stage. Everypony stopped for one moment and inspected her curiously. Even the instrumentalists died down for a moment and allowed a couple of Crash Cymbal beats per second.
Octavia’s face turned red, but Vinyl looked as if she rehearsed this and was a professional. Vinyl stepped back and forth with seductively crossed hooves and bedroom eyes. It was a cute sight, and she knew Vinyl was joking around, but she blushed anyway because of how the audience took it.
Vinyl held out a hoof and fluttered her eyes.
“Ohhh….” said the audience.
They had no idea.
Octavia took her hoof.
Octavia barely even knew what she was doing, and was deadly sure that they were doing every move and step wrong. Octavia knew rhythm and music; but she was a cellist, not a dancer.
And neither was Vinyl.
But Vinyl clearly didn’t care as she snatched Octavia’s hoof and started their dance. Octavia tried to follow her steps, but something about the basic concept of rhythm was suddenly extra complicated. She had worked with a metronome when practising with her cello, but it was different. The beat she worked with is supposed to guide a melody, dictating how many notes of the piece shall be played per beat so she could be in perfect sync with her fellow cellists and violists.
‘This is dancing, not the cello’ she kept repeating in her head.
Her heart skipped a beat when Vinyl took a step towards her left side, then back, then forward again towards her right: the dance was advancing. Octavia awkwardly dodged; this made the ponies watching laugh.
Before she could blush from that, Vinyl snatcher her sister’s head around her hooves and made her lean low; now they were on a crawl. Vinyl’s right hooves rose and fell, Octavia’s left hooves rose and fell, then vice versa. Good, Octavia thought, at least I understand something.
The trumpets began to sound.
Vinyl immediately reacted by digging under Octavia’s barrel and launching Octavia back up on her hooves. Her blush was immense; the ponies were definitely having a holiday with their assumptions.
But Octavia had no time to feel the whole weight of their sly judgment.
Vinyl backed up, then reentered her space and grabbed her hoof.
“Vinyl, we’ve got to-- WAH!”
The world turned into lines and blurry colours again; Octavia was spinning under Vinyl’s hoof.
The crowd cheered.
Vinyl released her.
Octavia kept spinning uncontrollably, unable to even concentrate on stopping herself. But before she could get her hooves together, she found herself in Vinyl’s arms in a dip.
The beat dropped, the trumpets stopped.
Everything was silent.
Octavia tried her best not to breathe too deeply, but her exhaustion had all the control. Her chest dramatically rose and feel, everypony in the audience could hear her desperately catching her breath. Her eyes looked at them with pleading eyes, trying her best to say ‘it’s not what it looks like’ with her face in desperation not to be misjudged.
But the audience only stared back, and after a few long seconds, they burst into applause. Their hooves stomped, their mouths shouted, their lips whistled.
Vinyl gently laid Octavia down and bowed to the audience.
Octavia couldn’t believe this. She prayed to Celestia to make it all end, and somehow Vinyl heard them.
In the most embarrassingly way possible, Vinyl dug under her barrel and carried her on her back. Octavia tried to protest, but she was barely able to move after all that exercise.
How is she even doing this? I never even saw her take a WALK in Ponyville!
No matter her questions or objections, Vinyl carried her without even a care in the world.
“Hey, that was a pretty good show you pulled there,”
Octavia thought she could have as much peace as she could in her embarrassing position. But, to her dismay, somepony just had to keep paying attention to her.
Vinyl gave a smile and a nod.
“Say, how’s about I take you two out to dinner?”
“Can’t… need… hotel…” Octavia struggled to say through breaths.
“Oh, I can take ya to one if ya like.”
“No… we’re… fine… on our own…”
Vinyl nodded in contrast.
The stranger smiled at this.
“I’ll pay dinner.”
“No…”
Vinyl nudged her.
“No, Vinyl, we can’t--” Octavia’s stomach growled. “Fine…”
♫
“So… you’re sure you two’s not a couple?” the strange pony asked. He had a dark blue coat and a much darker, wavy mane. He wore the same white shirt and purple vest Octavia saw earlier.
“No… we’re… not…” Octavia drawled out. She wasn’t panting anymore, but she was attempting to nap on Vinyl’s shoulders on their shared dinner seat. Normally they’ll have their seats, but Octavia would rather share the same one then allow her to sit with a stranger. “We’re sisters…”
“Ah, I see. So, where’s you two from, then…? Hello…? Ah, stars. Seems she’s fallen asleep.” He turned his attention to Vinyl, “So, you. what’s your name?”
Vinyl pointed a hoof to herself.
“Yes, you. You’re awfully quiet, aren’t ya? Time ya take the show in your hooves instead of Sis here, hah?” he clapped his hooves together, “So, what’s your name? Where are you from?”
Vinyl’s shoulders dropped.
“Hah, you really aren’t that much of a talker, hah?”
Vinyl shrugged.
“Well, I envy that. I need to be quiet for once in my life.”
Vinyl tilted her head.
“Well, ya see, when ya have a big mouth, you’ll… um… how do I put it…? Like, um, let’s say--”
“Hey! Waxton! There you are!” a mare suddenly shouted from a seat behind him.
The stranger jumped in his seat. “Oh, Blueberry Curls, I didn’t know you were--”
Blueberry Curls stood up from her seat and approached him. Without a word: she slapped him, finished her coffee, then threw enough bits plus tip onto her table before she left.
“Ah, yeah… that hurts… well, I deserved that. Actually, that’s how I’ll put it: that’s why I envy ya.”
Vinyl nodded.
“Yeah, name’s Waxton by the way in case ya didn’t already hear. What can I call ya?”
Vinyl shrugged.
“How’s about ‘Sparky’ ‘cause of your mane?”
Vinyl shrugged again; only her head was tilted.
“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’ then.”
Vinyl averted her gaze to the menu. The cover image had the map of Baltimare with buildings and all. She laid it down and pointed to the east side of it.
“What’s that?”
Vinyl pointed to herself, then back at the map.
“Oh, so yous came from the east?”
Vinyl nodded.
“Eastside?”
Vinyl shook her head.
“In the ocean?”
Vinyl facehoofed.
“I’m kiddin’. Far east?” Vinyl nodded. “Dodge City...? Appleloosa…? Stars, what else is far east? Hang on, um… Ponyville?”
Vinyl nodded for the third time.
“Bingo! I win!”
“The usual, Waxton?” the waitress interrupted without hesitation or care.
“Gah! Ya scared me there, Milkshake!”
Milkshake’s expression showed she didn’t care.
Waxton caughed.
“Yes, I’ll have the usual…”
“And for you, lovebirds?”
“They’re sisters.”
Milkshake ignored him.
Vinyl flipped the menu over, looked it over, then pointed to an item.
“The hay fries?”
Vinyl nodded.
“That’ll be all?”
Vinyl looked to Octavia.
“But where would we find a toaster repair pony…?”
“I think she’ll think about it,” Waxton suggested.
Milkshake rolled her eyes.
“Fine then. That’ll be fifteen minutes. Blame Waxton; his usual is a pain to make.”
“A delicious one!”
Milkshake rolled her eyes again.
Octavia stirred but didn’t seem to wake up.
“Oh, wait,” Waxton called, “Add an extra coffee with that!”
“Sure.”
“And a number while you’re at it!”
“Still not happin’, Waxton.”
Waxton slammed his hoof to the table. He looked to Vinyl. He adjusted his collar and cleared his throat.
“Sorry ‘bout that, Sparky. I’ll get through to her.”
Vinyl’s eyebrows dropped.
“Hey, don’t give me that look; I’m tellin’ ya, she’s just playin’ hard-to-get. You’ll see.”
Vinyl shrugged.
“Ya shrug a lot; you know that?”
Vinyl shrugged.
“Okay, okay--now, what’re ya both doin’ in the middle of Baltimare, anyway?”
Vinyl pointed to her headset.
“To fix your Crystal Headset?”
Vinyl shook her head.
“To buy another Crystal Headset.”
Vinyl shook again.
“Then… what?”
Vinyl pondered before her expression sparked with an idea. She placed her hoof on the table and slid it around in circles and placed her hoof on her headset.
“DJ? No… ya don’t mean… you’re entering The DJ Competition?”
Vinyl nodded.
“Oh, stars, no. Ponyvillians entering a DJ Competition? And I thought I was already in for a whirl when DJ D0nkE entered last year, but now a Ponyvillian? Never thought I’d see more surprises.”
Vinyl raised an eyebrow.
“Yup, that’s right: I happen to be a DJ myself. You’s plannin’ to get yourself a ticket to enter?”
Vinyl nodded eagerly.
Waxton laughed with a grin. “Heh-ha, I like your spirit. Ya know, I’ve been enterin’ every year. If you come with me, they might let you in free if not givin’ ya a discount.”
Vinyl nodded again.
“Then it’s settled. We eat, we get tickets, then I’ll get you two a room: how’s about that?”
Vinyl nodded again with a big, proud grin.
♫
Octavia woke up. She felt… plush. She was only slightly aware of things before she fully, deeply fell asleep, and whatever little of what she could catch she did not like.
“Vinyl… where are we?”
A pillow hit the back of her head.
“I see… so you used my money to pay for everything…?”
She turned her head around to find Vinyl who gave her a cute little smile.
“Of course you did. Now, Vinyl, do me a favour, please: don’t do that again. Anything you did.”
Vinyl nodded.
“Good. Now, if you’ll excuse me…” Octavia yawned, “I think we both need rest for tomorrow. Please…” she yawned again, “Find a way to explain to me who that stranger was, and... “ Octavia gave out an even longer yawn, “And… you… better win… goodnight, Vinyl…”
Vinyl smiled.
