Chapters “Barkeep, another!” barked Vinyl, her voice cracking slightly, slamming her glass on the counter with almost enough force to shatter the poor thing within her magical grasp. The unicorn colt tending the bar shot the disgruntled DJ a look, but complied regardless, pouring her another glass of her usual vodka-7. Apart from her every-so-often rude bursts of drink orders, the mare mostly (and uncharacteristically) kept to herself this evening, and she wasn't causing any trouble, so he had no reason to throw her out. Most of her attention was focused into her glass, a complex combination of anger, resentment, regret, and sadness dominating her facial features. The bartender colt heard her let out a small whimper every once in a while, and occasionally wiped away a tear from her eye with one hoof. He had lost count of how many vodka-7s he had poured for the mare, but he knew that she was a pony who could hold her liquor. After all, apart from being a regular bar patron, she was the renowned DJ-PON3, and a sizable alcohol tolerance was almost an occupational requirement in her field. He had no idea why she was in such a foul mood this particular evening, but knew better than to pry; if Vinyl Scratch of all ponies wasn’t in a sociable mood over something that was clearly troubling her, best let her be.
Vinyl’s vision was blurred and she felt her perspective wavering about, and she began to lose track of the last 10 or 15 minutes, yet it still wasn’t enough to make her feel any better. She took another big swig of her drink, hoping each time that that particular sip would magically erase her immediate memory of the night’s events, but all it would do would inebriate her further, without the comfort or solace that usually brings. She felt her lower lip begin to quiver again, and she couldn’t help but let out another small wimper, lowering her head with the hopes that it would be inaudible to the other patrons near her. This time, she couldn’t help but let a few tears escape from her, so she, as quietly as she could, wept for about 20 seconds before pulling herself together once more with a loud sniff.
She was drunk enough to have almost forgotten what her stupid fight with Octavia was about in the first place, yet it wasn’t enough to alleviate the anguish she felt as a result of it. And how could she? Vinyl was hardly the kind of pony to apologize for the person she was, but even she was able to recognize that she had crossed a significant rubicon with whom she considered one of closest and, honestly, only true friends. She kept going back to the incident despite her mental protests to move on, but she felt the need to keep torturing herself over and over out of some masochistic need to punish herself.
“Oh, so now this is my fault!?” Vinyl responded defiantly, now going on the offensive.
“Now? When has it ever not been your fault?” Octavia replied, ice in her voice. “Please, Vinyl, refresh me, give me one occasion where something that has gone wrong has been been a direct result of you? You are, perhaps, one of the most uncouth and classless ponies I’ve met, you’re a struggle to be around sometimes, you know that?”
“Oh, don’t give me that hoighty-toighty high-class crap, Octy. You’re free to turn me down whenever I offer to hang out, and yet you never do, and tell me that I’ve never been able to show you a good time,” Vinyl responded.
“As if I could turn you down even if I wanted to. Apart from classless, you’re also as stubborn as a mule. If I give you even a single word of protest, you wouldn’t waste a second shoving me out the door against my will!” protested Octavia.
“Because I have to! You don’t fucking do anything without me! What else would you be doing with yourself if I weren’t around, huh? Sitting here all day, every day, playing your fucking cello over and over, maybe leaving your apartment once or twice a month to play a concert and then plopping your plot right back here to do it all over again? You need to get out more, Octy, it’s almost tragic how little you do anything!” said Vinyl, her voice beginning to reach a shout.
“Then why do you constantly ask to go out with me, huh? If I’m such a damn bore to you, why do you always insist that we just have to hang out together, huh? I’m sure you must have plenty of other DJ friends, ones that share your interests more than me, why don’t you go bother them for once?” asked Octavia.
For the first time that she could remember, Vinyl didn’t know how to respond to that question.
“I choose to stay and practice playing the cello because I have to. I don’t think you can possibly understand how hard I have to work at it to not only be as good as I am at it, but to stay that good. Unlike the mind-numbing, ear-shattering drivel you play for your crowd of punks, my brand of real music requires dedication and hard practice, something I’m sure you couldn’t and wouldn’t understand,” said Octavia, trying to maintain her calm (proving more difficult than she expected).
“Oh, shut up, Tavi! Because I totally got to where I am today by winning the fucking Canerlot lottery, right? You don’t think what I do requires talent or expertise? You have no idea, so don’t go running your mouth off about things that you clearly don’t know,” responded Vinyl through gritted teeth. Octavia’s words stung pretty bad, but Vinyl refused to show it.
“Then perhaps you should go associate with other mares that share in your particular tastes and let me enjoy mine. The music I play is timeless and classic, for ponies with sophistication greater than you will ever understand. You cater to a fad, a fleeting, bit-a-dozen piece of disposable pop culture that’ll probably go out of style just as quick as it arrived. If you ask me, I’ll be surprised if you still have a job in five years...” said Octavia with ice in her voice, turning and walking down her hallway, away from Vinyl.
Vinyl began visibly shaking, snorting loudly like a bull watching a matador waving a cape in front of it. She didn’t know if she was more offended than pissed off, or vice versa, all that she know was that she had reached her limits.
“Fuck you, Octavia!” Vinyl hollered to her down the hall. Octavia stopped in her tracks, Vinyl’s uncharacteristic use of her full name startling her, yet she maintained her resolve to not stoop down to her level. She continued walking away.
“Hey! HEY! Don’t walk away from me, we’re not done here!” Vinyl shouted.
“I’m done, Vinyl. You can see yourself out for all I care,” responded Octavia coldly, turning to meet Vinyl’s rage-filled gaze. “Why don’t you go out and have your bloody world-of-fun without me? I’ll be better off for it, that’s for bloody sure...”
That tore it, Vinyl was now seeing red. She ground her teeth together, threatening to pulverize them into dust. She drooped her head and let out a deep growl that was more animalistic than anything. Without even meaning to or realizing it, her magic had taken a hold of Octavia’s prized cello sitting on a stand in the corner of the room and, with a loud yell of indignation, flung it towards the opposite wall.
The crash was a cacophonous mix of wood splintering and metal strings snapping, yet on that moment of impact, Vinyl could swear she could hear each string individually break apart and every splinter crack away from each other. In an instant, the hardened look of seething rage devolved into a horrified look of self-realization and remorse, instantly aware of just what she had done. She would have said something, but the words seemed to lock up in her throat.
Octavia ran back down the hallway, her expression matching Vinyl’s look of horror as she saw what remained of her prized cello, now a crumpled heap of strings and wood chips underneath a sizable dent in her wall. Without missing a beat, she ran up to the wreckage and pathetically began picking up the parts. Vinyl was frozen in place, unable to move, speak, think, anything. Finally, her lower lip began to quiver, as the reality of what she had just done began to hit her.
Octavia’s tough defensive exterior immediately broke as she began to cry almost on queue as she pathetically tried to reattach the pieces of the broken neck to the belly, as if they were parts of a jigsaw puzzle that could so easily be put back together. She let out a few soft whimpers as she, too, began to face the reality that her cello was completely destroyed.
A tear ran down Vinyl’s cheek almost unconsciously, watching the miserable sight of Octavia and her livelihood in ruins in front of her. She finally found her voice again, weak and muted as it was.
“I...Octy, I’m so sorry, I....I didn’t-I...’m so sorry...” was the most she could muster.
Octavia seemed to ignore her attempts at an apology, pathetically whispering to herself, “It’s okay, I can fix this...I can fix this, I c-can f-f-fix this...” in between tears. Eventually, her emotions got the best of her, and she began to openly weep into the heap of instrument parts, hugging them close to her as if they were a small baby.
Vinyl would have crumpled into a heap herself had her legs not locked up entirely. She continued to attempt to form some sort of an apology, stumbling over her words, realizing that nothing she could say could make up for what she had done. Instantly, all of the anger she felt towards Octavia in that moment was redirected at her; she wanted to disappear, to run away somewhere into the Everfree Forest never to be seen again. Finding control of her legs again, Vinyl ran towards the door and left the apartment without another word. Octavia paid her no mind, continuing to weep into the destroyed cello in front of her.
Vinyl’s glass slammed down onto the bar once again, this time with enough force to create a small crack in the bottom of the tumbler.
“Barkeep, keep ‘em coming!” Vinyl called out, drunkenly observing her now-cracked glass. “And I’ll need another glass.”
“Look, Vinyl, first of all, my name is Mixer, and second, I know it’s none of my business, but you’re obviously broken up over something, and clearly the last eight or nine vodka-7s haven’t been helping,” said the bartending pegasus.
Vinyl waited a second before responding. “Nine?”
“Honestly, I lost count a while ago, I’m just guessing,” responded Mixer. “If you ask me, it’s time to call it a night, get some shut-eye, and try again tomorrow.”
Vinyl indignantly stared at Mixer and tapped her hoof on the bar in front of her. Mixer sighed and began pouring her another vodka-7, reluctantly. “You’re the boss...”
“You should listen to him, you’ve been sitting there moping around ever since I got here, and honestly, you’re kind of killing the mood around here,” a pegasus sitting at the other end of the bar chimed in. Her coat was a light, almost baby blue and her mane was fashioned into a large, very elaborate mohawk. At first glance, her mane was a very bright, hot pink, but her roots appeared to be a natural light brown, indicating that she had dyed her hair that way. Either it was from the distance or her inebriation (or perhaps both), but Vinyl had trouble making out what exactly her cutie mark was, though it looked like either a hammer or a guitar in front of a starburst shape.
“Oh, I’m sorry, am I ruining your night?” Vinyl asked, offended.
“To be honest, yeah. I came in here to have a drink and I’ve had to listen to you sob over there for the last hour and a half,” the pegasus responded.
“You’re free to leave if you want, there are plenty of other bars around here,” said Vinyl with a wave of her hoof.
“Or maybe you should leave and let everypony else enjoy their evening without you raining on our good time,” said the pegasus, becoming increasingly agitated.
“And maybe you should mind your own damn business and let me be,” barked back Vinyl. That must have been a breaking point for the pegasus, as she immediately got off her barstool and walked towards Vinyl. Vinyl, recognizing the pegasus’s advancement, got off her barstool and moved towards her.
“Hey, hey!” Mixer said, sensing the clear confrontation that was about to happen. It did little to stop Vinyl and the pegasus from getting into each other’s faces.
“Maybe we should take this outside, if you got a problem,” said the pegasus, threateningly, turning her head.
“Do we have a problem? I dunno, do we have a problem? Because if you have a problem, I suggest you stop being such a pussy and do something about it!” Vinyl seethed back at her, rage once again filling her eyes. She barely finished her sentence before the pegasus reared up and slammed both of her hooves into Vinyl’s face, tossing her on her back. The pegasus attempted to pounce on Vinyl, but she quickly bucked her with her hind legs and sent her back stumbling.
“HEY, HEY STOP, THAT’S ENOUGH!” Mixer shouted, now running around to the front of the bar. Vinyl returned to her hooves and grabbed the pegasus by her head, managing to land a few solid punches on her before the pegasus flew up and lifted the DJ off her feet, sending her flying and landing hard on her back. The pegasus landed firmly on top of Vinyl and stomped her hooves into Vinyl’s body and face. Vinyl summoned some magic from her horn and managed to grapple onto the pegasus’ mane, though the alcohol in her system caused her concentration to waver slightly. She intended to pull the mare off of her, but instead ripped out a chunk of hair from her mane, causing the pegasus to stumble back in pain and giving Vinyl a chance to get up and grapple with her again. Vinyl managed to push the pegasus into the bar and land another punch on her before the pegasus wrapped her leg around Vinyl’s and tripped her. Vinyl fell to the ground and hit the back of her head on the hard tile floor, sending her into a bit of a daze. The pegasus once again mounted her and landed at least 3 or 4 hard punches into Vinyl’s face before Mixer’s magic grabbed both of them by the tail.
“Alright, that’s enough from you two, get the fuck out of here!” he called out as he dragged them to the entrance. He didn’t even bother to open the door for them, instead opting to use their bodies to painfully burst through the door before heaving them out onto the sidewalk. The pegasus quickly returned to her hooves as Vinyl lay in a heap, coughing and trying to regain full consciousness.
“Get the fuck out of here, both of you. Vinyl, you’re cut off for the next week, I don’t wanna see you here again until then. Now get out of here before I call Celestia’s guard!” angrily called out Mixer before retreating back into the bar.
Vinyl slowly began to stand up back on her hooves before she felt a sharp kick to her midsection, knocking her off her hooves and back onto the sidewalk.
“That’s for ruining my night, bitch,” the pegasus bitterly said. Vinyl attempted to say something, but all that came out were coughs, the wind being kicked out of her. Recognizing her victory, the pegasus flapped her wings and flew away, but not before spitting on the fallen unicorn. Vinyl lay there for a moment as her breath slowly returned to her. The door to the bar swung open again, and out flew Vinyl's broken sunglasses, striking her squarely on her already-bleeding face.
Vinyl stumbled her way to a nearby park and planted herself on one of the benches to catch her breath. The alcohol in her was causing her to slowly lose grasp on her memory of the night, though she had small, yet vivid flashbacks to the pegasus pouncing on her and landing a few blows on her. She massaged her rib cage with one hoof, her face with the other. One of her ribs may have been broken, though she wasn’t entirely sure. She felt the left side of her face begin to swell up, and already her left eye had begun to close up from bruising. She spat, and what came out was a combination of about 25% saliva, 75% blood. She breathed somewhat heavily, coming out more as a wheeze than anything. She imagined she’d be in a greater level of pain had she not had so much alcohol in her system to dull it away, at least temporarily.
She sat there for a bit, not necessarily thinking about anything, the vodka sort of keeping her mind on a single track. Within minutes, she had completely forgotten the path she took to get to this park bench, and honestly, had no idea which direction her apartment was from that point. Vinyl began to wonder to herself how she had gotten to this point; in the long list of bad nights she had experienced as a DJ, this was definitely a new low for her, but she couldn’t quite remember how it had all come to this.
Octavia.
The name popped into her head, and in an instant, a flood of memories of what happened between them surfaced into her mind, as vividly as if she were sober. The things she said, Vinyl flinging her cello across the room and Octy crying in a heap over its ruins. She remembered the agonizing, paralyzing guilt she felt in that moment, the agony that she must have put Octavia through, and it all began to wash over Vinyl in that moment.
Almost instantaneously, she broke down into deep sobs. She buried her face in her hooves, but it didn’t help. It wasn’t a silent kind of a cry, but a loud, messy weeping. Her tears were met with cries of anguish, despair, pain, and self-loathing. She didn’t know if she could ever be happy again; she wanted to die right then and there. Her only saving grace was that, it being 2:30 at night, nopony was out to see her pathetic sight. Tears flooded into her eyes faster than they could dispel them, blurring her vision as if she had dunked her head into a pool of water. A combination of blood and mucus leaked from her nostrils. Losing the will to even sit up, she crumpled onto her side, turning her tears to the cold wooden bench she sat on.
She wanted to stop and regain control of her senses, but at some level, she also wanted this. She felt as thought she deserved the physical and emotional pain she was experiencing, because Octavia had been too good to give that inflict that on her herself. At some level, Vinyl wished that by destroying Octavia’s cello in front of her, it would have gotten a rise out of her, and maybe she could have lashed out at Vinyl some way. She could have yelled in Vinyl’s face, or even physically attacked her, something, anything, just enough to give Vinyl the punishment she felt she deserved. But instead, she did just the opposite - she did nothing. No words of protest, no severance of their friendship, not even a single word towards Vinyl, she did nothing, allowing Vinyl to wallow in her own misery without any catharsis to alleviate it. With this thought, Vinyl curled up into a ball and wrapped her forearms around her legs, turning her head and continuing to cry into the coarse, wooden bench.
A loud squawking from a bird unceremoniously woke Vinyl from her sleep. She had never been a morning pony, yet her eyes seemed to strain especially hard to open on this particular occasion, not helping that the first thing her eyes opened up to was the blinding light of the sun rising over the horizon. She figured that it couldn’t be more than 6:30 in the morning. Her head pounded from every direction, and her neck and back ached with every movement she made. She soon realized that she had fallen asleep on a park bench somewhere in downtown Canterlot, not remembering how or when she had gotten there the night before. It took every ounce of willpower and strength she had to force herself to sit up, and even that caused her to become incredibly lightheaded to the point where she threatened to pass out sitting down. She closed her eyes and attempted to keep herself lucid, proving to be a more difficult task than she thought. In her line of work, Vinyl was used to hangovers and had an innate ability to work her way through them, but this was probably one of the worst she had on record. Even worse, she still felt a bit dizzy and off balance, indicating to her that she may still be a little bit drunk, meaning that worst of it was still yet to come.
She was at least glad that it was early enough for nopony to be awake yet to see her like this. She tried to lift herself off the bench onto her hooves, but an incredible pain shot up through her chest and into her head. Scattered memories of a barfight the previous night began to resurface, and she quickly began to analyze herself. Her left eye couldn’t open beyond halfway, her left cheek felt particularly inflamed, and the right side of her chest burned with almost every breath she took, indicating that, at the very least, one of her ribs was fractured, if not broken. She looked around at the park, and noticed a small birdbath nearby. She, slowly and painfully, worked her way over to it and looked at herself in the reflection. Indeed, her left eye was colored a deep blue and purple and was almost swollen shut, and dried blood streamed out of both of her nostrils.
Unable to bear looking at herself anymore, she turned away from the pool and sat down on her haunches , trying to regain her grip on the previous night. Clearly, she had gotten wasted off her ass, that much was obvious, and she had gotten into an altercation with another pony, Celestia help her if she could ever remember who. She vaguely recalled somepony with a pink mohawk, but it really didn’t matter, honestly.
She then remembered Octavia. Oh, poor Octavia. For all of the liquor she could pour into herself, that was the one thing she couldn’t escape from. She felt herself begin to break down again and start to cry, silently to herself, the flood of emotions once again returning to her. After a minute or so, she regained control of her senses, wiping her face with her hoof and taking a few deep breaths. The previous night had clearly not helped any to make her forget about what she had done, or at least make her hurt less about it, and at the end of the day, she was just even worse off than she was to begin with.
She was afraid. She was afraid of losing Octavia forever, and after what she had done to her, the pain she had inflicted on her, she had every right to lose her friendship. Vinyl felt her emotions surge again, but with a sniffle, refused to let herself break down again. She resented the things that she said to Octavia, about having nothing and no one besides her...she felt like a hypocrite. Octavia had become such a driving force in Vinyl’s life over the last few months that she forgot what her life was even like without her, and she couldn’t bear the thought of losing her forever on account of her own mistakes.
No, she wouldn’t let this happen, Vinyl thought. She was going to fix this...somehow. With that resolve, Vinyl painfully worked her way onto her hooves and left the park.
“Vinyl, is that you? Sweet Celestia, what happened to you?” the voice of an older mare called out.
Vinyl quickly snapped to, realizing that she had fallen asleep on her own haunches outside of Coda’s Music Shoppe. It took her a moment to regain consciousness; judging by the position of the sun, it now hat to be around 8 in the morning.
“Uh...hi, erm...sorry, Coda, I...” Vinyl attempted to say, stumbling over her words. She may still have been a bit drunk, though by now, most of that had translated into her hangover.
“My goodness, young mare, you look awful. Are you okay?” Coda asked, concerned.
Vinyl’s vision finally sharpened as she stared at the deep grey earth pony. “Yeah, I...I’m fine, don’t worry about it. Listen, I need your help with something...” Vinyl said, her voice wavering slightly.
Coda wasn’t convinced. “Come inside, Vinyl. What in Celestia’s name happened to you?”
“It’s a long story, but I need to talk to you, I need a cello, and I...I....” Vinyl tried to say, but soon lost her balance and fell onto one of her hooves. Coda quickly helped her up.
“Good heavens, Vinyl...c-come inside and sit yourself down, come with me,” Coda insisted, guiding Vinyl by the hoof into her shop.
Vinyl sat in the back room of Coda’s shoppe, carefully balancing a mug of coffee in her magical aura. She was still feeling a bit woozy, and it took most of her concentration to hang on to it, let alone be able to sip on it. She had to admit, though, the caffeine of the coffee was helping to perk her up, even if it didn’t do anything for the pounding headache.
Coda appeared through the door, carrying a wet washcloth. “Here you are Vinyl, clean yourself up a bit,” she said, handing it to Vinyl. She took it without question and began dabbing at the bloodstained portions of her face.
“Thanks."
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about what happened?” asked Coda.
“Yes,” responded Vinyl, softly but firmly.
“...okay, if you’re sure. Well, you wouldn’t be here if you didn’t have a reason. Is there anything you need?” asked Coda.
“Yeah, there is...there is something...I need a cello,” responded Vinyl. “And this one is really important, I need the best one you have or you can make.”
“I know it’s none of my business, but this wouldn’t happen to be for that cellist mare you’ve been hanging out a lot with lately, would it?” asked Coda.
Vinyl didn’t respond. Instead, her lower lip began to tremble. Coda saw this and quickly moved the conversation forward.
“Okay, okay, I see, well...I have a number of cellos in stock, some very fine ones, but I’m gonna warn you, the best ones I have aren’t gonna be cheap-”
“Money isn’t a problem,” interrupted Vinyl, assuredly.
“Okay, then. Come with me, I’ll show you have I have.” said Coda.
“This is the one...it’s perfect,” Vinyl said, carefully observing the build and make of the cello in her hooves.
“Alright, if this is the one, then I’ll go ahead and ring you up for it. As a gesture of good faith, I’ll even throw in the case for free,” said Coda.
“Thanks, I appreciate it,” said Vinyl. Holding the cello in her hands, she once again found herself fighting to hold back tears. This was proving to be a far more emotional day for Vinyl than she was used to.
“If that will be all, then let’s go ahead and bring this up to the register, then...” said Coda.
“Actually...” Vinyl said. “...there is one more thing I’d like, if it’s not too much...”
Celestia’s sunlight shone through the blinds of Octavia’s bedroom, shining into the grey mare’s eyes and slowly rousing her from her sleep. She lifted herself up, still feeling emotionally drained from the day before.
It still hadn’t fully hit her yet, that her most prized possession had been so quickly and abruptly taken away from her. She had even moved passed being outwardly angry at Vinyl; years of experience taught her that holding grudges rarely ever alleviated the pains of reality, and that it was best to accept things as they came along. Still, her cello...the very essence of her being to be so suddenly destroyed in front of her had certainly taken a toll on her.
She stared down at the purple clef that adorned her flanks and let out a small, sad chuckle, still able to appreciate the irony of her immediate situation, if only from a superficial point of view. She then turned her attention to her bedside table, an empty bottle of Jura and a glass sitting on top of it, which probably explained the mild headache she had. Of course, she could hardly blame herself for wanting to drink last night, given the circumstances. She took the empty bottle in her teeth and made her way to the kitchen, depositing it in the recycle bin under the sink. She took a moment to look around her humble apartment, lonely and empty, and sighed to herself. The missing cello certainly took away from the feel of the place, but she couldn’t help but be particularly cognizant of the loneliness of her abode, aware of how vacant her home was, despite the ornate furniture that occupied her living room.
In all honesty, she couldn’t lay all of the blame on Vinyl; she, too, felt partly responsible for what had happened. Destroying her prized cello was certainly taking it several steps too far, but Octavia thought back to the awful things that she said to Vinyl in their argument. She may not have shared the same tastes in...music as her friend, but she had no right to so harshly insult Vinyl for it, the very thing that she had built her livelihood on. Especially coming from one musician to another; had she no sense of professional camaraderie or kinship? Remembering her words so vividly, Octavia felt slightly sick to her stomach.
A knock came from her front door, rousing Octavia from the small trance that she had fallen into. She looked at the nearest clock, seeing that it was 8:43 in the morning, and wondered who in the world would possibly be knocking at her door so early in the morning. She walked to the door, unlocked the latch and opened it.
Octavia’s eyes widened at the sight of Vinyl Scratch, bloodied, beaten, tired, hungover, perhaps still a bit drunk, and very much in low spirits, sitting in front of her. Her arm was wrapped around her midsection, and was clearly in a good deal of pain. Vinyl aimed her head down towards the ground in shame, unable to look at Octavia, clearly fighting with all her strength to not break down in tears right then and there.
“Holy sweet Celestia, Vinyl? Oh my goodness, what happened to you? What...are you-” Octavia said, worry in her voice.
“Just hang on a sec, Octy, don’t say anything, I just...I need to say something,” interrupted Vinyl, holding out a hoof to stop her worried friend. The basic tasks of breathing and moving still hurt considerably for Vinyl, but she didn’t care.
“Listen, Octy, I...I...I fucked up yesterday,” said Vinyl, losing control of her emotions and breaking down into tears. “I fucked up, I fucked up so bad...I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Octy, I didn’t mean to...” Vinyl struggled through her tears, eventually losing grip of herself and weeping openly.
Octavia had no words to respond to what she saw. She was still considerably angry at Vinyl, yet couldn’t help but take pity on the rather pathetic sight in front of her. A tear fell from one of her eyes, yet she still remained silent to let Vinyl finish.
After a loud sniff, Vinyl continued. “I...here.” Vinyl summoned her magic and gripped the large cello case standing behind her, bringing it forward Slowly, she unlatched the buckles and opened it, revealing a brand new, beautifully polished cello. At the bottom-right of the body was an insignia delicately branded into the wood, the image of a clef that matched with Octavia’s cutie mark. Octavia gasped, carefully inspecting the instrument.
“Vinyl...” she breathed, still handling the cello with the utmost delicacy, running her hoof along the clef insignia at the bottom. She turned back to Vinyl, who was a crumpled mess, sitting on her haunches, burying her face in her hooves unable to control her crying.
Octavia brought the cello into her home and rested it against the wall next to the door. Vinyl managed to bring herself to speak again. “Octy, I’m so sorry, please...p-please forgive me, I can’t...I d-don’t know what’s wrong with me, Octy, I...I’m so sorry, I’ll never d-d-do anything like that again, but please...p-please don’t hate me...” she wailed, barely able to get the last few words in before, again, breaking down in sobs.
Octavia promptly put a hoof around Vinyl and guided the limping unicorn into her apartment. By this point, Vinyl was a complete wreck, crying openly in Octavia’s arms. Octavia carefully guided Vinyl to her couch and laid her down, grabbing a blanket from the hall closet and wrapping the unicorn within it. Vinyl continued to cry, and Octavia softly ran her hooves through her mane, trying to calm her down.
“Octy, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, please forgive me-” said Vinyl through tears.
“Shhhh, it’s okay, Vinyl, it’s okay...” whispered Octavia, stroking Vinyl’s mane, which was partly crusted with dried blood. She observed her friend’s face, her left eye was almost swollen shut in a deep, purple bruise, dried blood streaked the bottom of her muzzle, and her left cheek swollen to almost the size of a large gumball.
“Heavens, Vinyl, what happened to you?” Octavia whispered, almost rhetorically, but by then, Vinyl’s whimpers had dissipated and she had finally drifted off to sleep, tears streaming her cheeks. Octavia couldn’t help but cry herself at the sight of her friend in such a state, raising a hoof to her mouth to keep her cries quiet. In spite of everything that had happened between them, she never would have wanted this to happen to Vinyl. Never in a million years.
She stayed with Vinyl for a few more minutes to gather herself and make sure the unicorn was completely asleep before turning her attention to the cello standing next to her door. She grabbed the instrument and brought it over to her seat, quietly strumming the strings. They hadn’t been tuned yet, but thankfully, Octavia’s perfect pitch allowed her to properly tune the instrument within a matter of minutes.
She noticed a bow sitting inside of the case, a beautifully carved one with a particularly ornate shape. It was made from a dark kind of wood, she guessed mahogany, but wan’t entirely sure. It was sanded and polished to a smooth finish, and it felt so comfortable in her hooves, as if it were designed specifically to fit the difficult manner in which she had learned to hold her bow in order to play.
She lightly ran the bow across the fresh strings of the cello, the beautiful whole notes filling the room. Vinyl, so used to the loud, pounding sounds of the dubstep she mixed and performed on a regular basis, was undisturbed by the noise. Octavia smiled at her new instrument and peered over at her sleeping friend, who had begun lightly snoring in her sleep. Feeling inspired, Octavia began to play. She didn’t know what she wanted to play at first, opting to improvise for a little bit before moving into one of her favorite Buch cello suites. She managed to play softly enough to not rouse Vinyl from her much-needed sleep, yet loudly enough that she hoped that she could help to soothe the battered mare and bring her some measure of comfort amidst her obvious pain. Octavia soon lost herself in her music, a feeling of personal catharsis washing over her as she expertly hit each note, silently blinking back tears.
She held the last note for longer than normal, taking in the perfection and beauty of the cello’s sound. She had owned her previous cello since she was a filly, and knew that nothing could truly replace it, but she was still taken aback by the quality and craftsmanship of the one she held in her hooves, and determined that she could very quickly get used to playing this one. Delicately, she placed the cello and the bow back into its case and placed it against the wall where her previous one had lived. She sat back down next to Vinyl, sound asleep, and wrapped her hooves around her, burying her face into her shoulder, smiling warmly as she was unable to stop a few of her own solitary tears from falling.
