FOREWORD# Just a quick note from me: this is my first Fimfiction and its bloody nerve-racking. I appreciate ALL kinds of criticism, I just like the positive stuff better :P I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed typing it. And yes, that is a Heavy Rain reference in the description :) #FOREWORD STOPPED
“I wub you, 'tavi!”
Octavia lay on the sofa, considering this fro a moment. The pun, of course, was not lost on her, and she found this to be a perfectly normal, tasteless joke for Vinyl Scratch to pluck from the air. But it was not the joke itself that irritated her, (she had come to call these intrusions 'Scratchings') it was simply the sentiment behind it.
“Thank you dear, but it's far to late for me to-” her response was cut short by a long yawn, indicating it was high time she retreated to the safety of her bed. As she mounted the stairs, the graceful mare pondered how her room-mate had changed since they had first met. They had started as formal company, Octavia rather grudgingly approaching Vinyl to try and get a placement in a Manehatten bar, but a rather unlikely bond had formed between the two; mostly due to the fact they were both fleeing from grim pasts and had found themselves in the grimier part of Canterlot with only enough money between them to afford a small apartment until they found work. They now lived in a quaint 2-bedroom affair, and ever since their re-location two months ago, Octavia had noticed a distinct change in Vinyl's attitude. For instance, six days ago a string had snapped on Octavia's beloved cello. That very night, Vinyl caught the last train to Ponyville to have it re-strung by none other than Lyra Heartstrings herself. Naturally, Octavia could have repaired it herself, but she had to admit it sang so much more than it had done before.
Octavia now lay in bed, pushing these sentimental thoughts from her mind, and instead focused on the up-coming Hearts and Hooves day recital – what promised to be a massive hit for her quartet – and hummed to herself her repetitive Ostinato until she drifted off to sleep...
Now as I'm sure you're aware, things at the back of our minds are what we always seem to dream about. This is why our dear Octavia ended up dreaming about her house-mate giving her huge bouquet's of flowers, bottles of champagne, honey and jam sandwiches. Changing scene to them dancing to a weird mishmash of classical and pop music, Vinyl leaning in to embrace Octavia, their lips meeting, their tongues beginning to touch and...
Octavia flew herself forward on her bed, shaking the dream from her mind and finding a small white bundle of lying on her lap, staring up with huge, green eyes. She became aware of a sweet voice drifting in from outside...
“Opalescence?! Come down from their! It's bad enough getting me stuck in this tree, but jumping into this poor mare's window...”
Rarity! Octavia could relate that soothing tone to only one pony she knew; the beautiful lady-mare who had, at the last minute, made her a bow-tie for the Grand Galloping Gala.
“What on Earth are you doing in a tree, Rarity?”
Rarity's eyes light up as she saw Octavia then sighed, glancing around her.
“Dear little Opalescence jumped up here and when I tried to get her down, she went through your window!”
Octavia threw her a sympathetic wince, then smiled. Octavia assured Rarity she'd get her down then slipped downstairs to retrieve a coat. Glancing around at the kitchen clock, our smoky mare performed her duties as the responsible house-mate by putting some toast on the grill and, throwing a casual, short coat around her waist, revealed herself to another Canterlot morning.
Trotting over to Rarity's tree, Octavia stifled a giggle, thinking how much she resembled a damsel-in-distress from the old mare's tales.
“Of all the worst things that could possibly happen...”
“This is the worst, possible thing” finished Octavia, under her breath. “Don't worry dear, it;s just a simple case of pulling this branch here down a bit...”
With a most unladylike grunt, Octavia hauled the branch down, forming a makeshift slope for Rarity to depart from. When she was back on sturdy ground, Rarity thanked her friend and noted how strong she must be to handle a branch like that – She put it down to the cello playing.
“Now where has the silly little kitty got to?”, murmured Rarity and, as if on cue, a little white head popped out of Octavia's window and purred loudly. “Quiet Opal, you'll wake up Octavia's room-mate!”
“I don't think that's very likely, Rarity; that girl could sleep through a buffalo stampede,” chuckled Octavia. “Will you come in and have some breakfast? How long ago did you arrive?”
“Oh, well, excuse my impudence, but I wasn't actually planning on visiting you in particular. I'm visiting a client who wants a costume for that Hearts and Hooves day affair in a couple of weeks. Is your quartet playing, per chance?” Replied Rarity, blushing slightly but being put at ease by the grin on Octavia's face.
“We are indeed, should bring in a pretty penny! Where are you heading? I'll walk with you.”
“But what about Opalescence?”
“Oh I'm sure she'll be fine up there. Probably safer too, there's been some rather nasty stray dogs wandering around lately...”
The two mares discussed recent events and exchanged gossip concerning mutual friends. Rarity's client was on the farthest end of Canterlot's less well-off district, and the streets were fairly quite that morning. As it were, Octavia considered it safe enough to confide in Rarity her current emotional 'itch'.
“Rarity, I understand we're not exactly life-long friends or even know each other all that well, but I was wondering if you'd help me with a rather sensitive problem...”
“Of course dear! Well, to a certain extent, of course, but I'd be happy to offer whatever help I can give,” this is what Octavia liked about Rarity; she was always eager to give people support – I suppose you could say that she was 'generous' about it. So with a boost of confidence, Octavia began to explain her predicament:
“I don't know if you've ever spent much real time around Vinyl as I have, but I'm sure you know about her rather sporadic exclamations and statements; things like 'Those candles look yummy!' or 'I wonder if birds thumbs...' and I rather got used to these, until about a week ago, when she started muttering more... more inappropriate things”
At the Rarity's level of interest obviously rose, stopping their trek and ushering Octavia into a quieter back-alley so as to avoid an approaching party.
“Do go on.”
“Well, she often comments on my appearance, complimenting – or at least that's what I think it is – my clothes or hair, she's been showing a lot more interest in my music and has been buying me things: bunches of flowers; boxes of cupcakes; replacement Cello strings...”
“Hmm... that does seem rather generous... do you have any idea what might have caused this sudden change in behaviour?”
“None what so ever... there is another thing, but I’m sure this is just me being a silly filly...” Octavia paused, glancing around and rapidly re-assessing her decision to entrust her feelings with this stunning mare who was gently brushing a stray hair from her mane. Octavia was suddenly over-whelmed by the urge to touch her, to hug her and at the same time almost felt like crying, which is how she found herself buried in Rarity's well-kept mane bawling out seemingly senseless sentences about being a filly-fooler and having so many feelings for Vinyl. Rarity's shocked expression rapidly moulded to confusing and finished with a quirky smile, wrapping her fore-legs around her friend gently stroking the smoky mane to calm her down...
Vinyl had awoken to an empty house. This was not unusual, as Vinyl often worked late into the evenings at her regular club house and Octavia's quartet recitals would often be late-morning. The last frosts of the winter were starting to thaw and there were black splodges among the clouds, hinting at a rather wet afternoon. Vinyl didn't really fancy trying to cook anything – especially as Octavia had been being profound amounts of vegetables and fruits recently – so she threw on a stylish crew-neck jumper from her room-mate's cupboard (her won clothes were more suited for the hot, clammy atmosphere of the club) and started towards a local café. As she trotted past the Canterlot gardens, her mind drifted to its usual vacation: Octavia. Wonderful, beautiful Octavia with her fancy speak and serious demeanour.
As different as the two ponies were, they did share an interest in music, and (although neither of them liked to admit it) both enjoyed each others rather contrasting genres. Vinyl had taken Octavia to her club once – she would forever tell herself that it wasn't a complete disaster – and after being forced together by ill-circumstances, they got along unexpectedly well. However, they never talked about the time 'before'. Those mysterious events that had led to their meeting in that smoky bar.
“HEY VINYL”
In a split second the disc-jokey fell into the prone position, covering her head with her hooves and waiting for the Crash that was usually a result of that familiar voice.
CRASH
Vinyl raised her head to locate the damage, her eyes falling on park bench that was now occupied by a rather confused Derpy.
“Heya Derpy; you missed me again!” Vinyl approached the bench to ensure Equestria's resident mail-mare was okay, but the pony seemed to be in a hurry as she rather stylishly flipped off the bench and remarkably accurately shot through the trees towards Celestia-knows-where. Vinyl shrugged the encounter off and sped up her pace as the lengthening shadows reminded her that, as it was a Sunday, the Café would be closing early.
Only a few moments later, another seemingly random event occurred. A dishevelled, scrawny stallion sporting an unkempt beard appeared to be dancing on the floor next to a large tree. Vinyl couldn't help but grin at this peculiar sight and trotted up to the scene. Her grin rapidly turned to horror as she realised the man wasn't dancing: he was in fact choking. Now Vinyl didn't know much about first-aid or anything to do with medical practice at all for that matter and was in danger of going into shock, but she knew she had to do something. With a might heavy, she formed a rather awkward interpretation of the Heimlich manoeuvre (which is quite incredible, really, considering her limited knowledge of the subject) and heaved the poor gentlemen's stomach a few times before a stern, loud voice echoed across the park.
“OI, PUT HIM DOWN THIS MINUTE. I'LL HAVE YOU FER THAT.” An incredibly burly police officer with a brown/ginger mane charged towards the entwined couple, hauling Vinyl from the other Stallion and mare-handled her into a restraint position. By now another police officer – a sharply-dressed pony with a short-cut mane – had arrived and was now tending to the bearded man.
“What do yer think yer doing, attacking someone like that? Utterly preposterous.” The first police officer had now cuffed Vinyl's fore-legs, forcing her to walk painfully on two hooves.
“But I-”
“Ain't no buts about it, lady. I'm taking you down ter the station.”
Vinyl's mind was now racing, her thoughts occasionally being interrupted by the pain in her hind legs. For some reason her brain's first priority had been to place the stallion's accent, and it now slowly drawled out all the counties in Equastria she had stored before a vague image of Octavia flashed into her mind and she blacked-out.
