Wireless Connection

Octavia moaned as Vinyl kissed her neck, pressing their bodies together and rubbing firmly.

It had been almost three months since Octavia's father had tried to take Vinyl down, but Vinyl's support system was fantastic. Since she was one of the most well-known entertainers in Ponyville, it wasn't even a week before she had to meet with Pinkie Pie for business, and Pinkie was good at finding frowns and turning them upside down.

As Pinkie was close friends with Twilight, who had known Vinyl and Octavia for several years, it wasn't long before the princess herself was involved in the affair, and that very quickly resulted in the entire case being dropped. After all, even Octavia's dad couldn't oppose the Princess of Friendship.

The lesson was pretty clear to Vinyl: Be nice to the purple unicorn that just showed up and nopony knows. When she transforms into an alicorn and becomes a princess, she'll return your generosity by saving your home, your marefriend, and your business license.

"Deeper!"

Vinyl couldn't ignore a request like that. Gripping tightly the toy she had shoved up there, she pushed a bit further, increasing the increment on the dial, as well. The way Octavia gripped her shoulders right then and there, she knew it wouldn't be long. Moments later, she felt the hot spray against her knee, and she knew that her marefriend was satisfied.

As she moved down between her legs to clean up the mess she'd caused, Vinyl looked up at the heaving chest in front of her. "Dinner's in the fridge, by the way," she said. "I picked up a gig this afternoon, scheduled for tonight, so I have to leave right after this."

"Another party?"

"A birthday party," answered Vinyl. "The birthday pony is turning thirty-eight, and it's just the office crowd, from what I hear. They originally didn't want any entertainment, because one of them is apparently a guitarist, but he caught the feather flu yesterday. You wanna come?"

"Thanks, but Ivory Chorus wants to learn a new piece tonight."

"Doesn't he play piano?"

"Yeah, but I know the piece better than he does. That'll last until ten, so..."

"That's fine. The party lasts until one, so I'll start the cleanup then and be home by two."

Octavia pulled her hooves up to her chin and took a few deep breaths. Not only was she trying to calm down from her climax, she was considering showing up to the party with Vinyl's invitation.

Slurping up the last of the fluids, Vinyl leaned forward and gave Octavia a big, sloppy kiss before wiping her mouth. "Alright, Tavi, I have to go hop in the shower. See ya tomorrow morning."

Octavia rolled over and grabbed some wet wipes from her nightstand to clean herself up the rest of the way, as well as the toy, which she turned off. She was very glad to not be separated from Vinyl, even if there were a lot of things about her that she didn't like. But why bother complaining about how she took care of her mane, her diet that consisted of six meals per day, at least one of which was pure junk food, or the way she pronounced the word "almond?" She was a good pony at her core, and all the little nitpicky things didn't matter, as long as she was genuinely happy.

Her mind made up, she grabbed her cello case and her sheet music, and set off.

"I don't know why you're having such problems with this piece," sighed Octavia. "Passacaglia is not a difficult piece. Your left hoof only moves once per measure, and your right moves down a single key eight times. Repeat that three times, and then spin off."

As if to prove how easy it was, she found the notes and played the section with just one hoof. Then she played it again, but with her left hoof playing the bass section.

"I'm not even a pianist," she scowled. "You are!"

"I know," Ivory sighed. "I just... I'm losing my rhythm."

"It's a solid tempo," huffed Octavia. "Four/four at one hundred and thirty and after two measures at rest, it's eighth notes only, down, then up, down, up, down, up, down, up, then down, up, down, up, down, up, down, up, and that last up leads into the next measure, which is the same thing, exactly one note lower. It's not even the most complex variation on this piece!"

Ivory's eyes went wide with realisation. "Wait, what?"

"I started you off with the easy one. The fugue is one of the most compelling parts. I figured we would start there. It's the very core of the piece."

"That's probably why it keeps looking wrong to me, which might be why I keep messing up." He took a deep breath. "You know this piece really well, if you can play it on an instrument you don't even practice with."

"I do know it well. It's one of my favourites."

"Why?"

Octavia shifted in her seat. "It speaks to me." She grabbed her bow and started playing softly. "Measures three through eight are all about trying to stay aloft while being pulled down, lowering yourself to meet the standards set for you, and then nine and ten are thrice struck down, and accepting that this is the way it is. The next six measures then rise, as they try to lift the spirits of the one who was broken, and they cannot accept it, still falling even as they try to rise, and then the next two measures only confirm that this is the way the world is. To me, the piece speaks of acceptance; that things are the way they are, and I see the faces of those who shot me down, and the faces of those who wanted me to be more than what I was. Every time, I see a disappointment looking back at them. Somepony who's still dreaming of being an inspiration despite being told she's not very good, or someone who can't relax because she needs to prove that she matters; a notion that seems to only grow further and further in distance. Will she really love me if I'm nothing more than a failure?"

"Who are you talking about?"

Octavia blinked a few times, not realizing what she'd said. She'd lost herself in the beauty of the piece again, and had played it through twice as she had been contemplating how she felt about it. She hadn't meant to divulge nearly as much as she had, but nothing she had said was wholly untrue. It was just strange to have heard herself put it into words.

"I'm just talking. Let's take it from the top. Remember, I'm doing the first two measures alone, then you come in for the melody."