There are certain events that you will never forget, whether you try to or not. They are just so ingrained in your memory- no, in your very soul- that it is impossible to get rid of them. They are seared onto the visage of your very being.
For me, that moment came with the suddenness of a heart attack. For me, that moment changed my life forever.
For me, that moment came… the first time I saw those haunting eyes.
Though it was not very long ago- a few weeks prior to my writing this, to be precise- that moment has not left me, not for one single solitary second. When I close my eyes, I see hers staring back at me, filling up the fullness of the darkness. When I stare into the mirror, trying to convince myself that just maybe I should give up and move on… I start to see my eyes slowly but surely changing, morphing, becoming the color of her eyes, the hue, the shade.
It genuinely scares me, because I am normally not like this. I am a rational pony. I do not do things for no reason at all. I know why one hoof strikes the ground before the other. My life is ordered, not chaotic.
But this event has caused a major upheaval in my life. It is almost like I cannot stop myself from doing something I do not want to do.
And yet… I am not entirely sure that this is not what I want.
This probably makes no sense at all to you. Allow me to start back at the very moment when the axis of my world shifted. Maybe then you can help me figure out just why I am feeling the way that I am.
Maybe.
I remember clearly that single moment. I was in Manehattan, bracing myself against the jarring cold. It was the dead of winter, and the snow had not stopped falling for a few days at that point. My breath was visible in the chill, making it look like I was smoking an invisible cigar.
At least, that is the way that one of my assistants described it.
I looked out at the world around me, trying to remember just exactly where I was. This was not due to any sort of outside memory impairment- I was not drunk (or under any kind of influence, for that matter) nor was I overly tired- but simply due to the fact that to me, everywhere in Manehattan looks the same. I cannot tell where I am simply by identifying landmarks.
Manehattan-ites would tell me that I am crazy. Maybe I am, in some deep-seeded, unrealized way.
I was standing outside the Manehattan Theatre, that much I knew for a fact. I had just finished a two hour-long concert, playing alongside some of the greatest classical music composers that ponykind had ever known. My manager had arranged this for me, thinking that I would like to meet others like myself, who shared my love for the classics.
Admittedly, I did have a grand time. Just being alongside my childhood heroes was an honor to me, much less being able to share the stage with them, playing swelling operas for Manehattan’s elite.
It was such a surreal experience that up until a few minutes before stage time, I could hardly believe that this was actually happening to me. I thought it to be a dream. Reality, it was, though.
After my performance, I had to be swept out the back of the theatre because of the thronging crowds wanting to mob me. They wanted to speak to me, to get my autograph, to invite me to future events… all of the trappings of a socialite Manehattan musician. Except, in spite of all my love for the classics, I know I am nothing like them.
And besides that, my manager does all of the arranging of my tour and concert dates for me. He does not allow any outside individual to influence that. He is a very strong-willed individual, and I am very grateful for that.
But I am getting away from the topic at hand.
As I stood outside in the rear of the building, I huddled up to my manager, who was standing next to me. He patted my head affectionately, like he always did when I had done exceptionally well in one of my performances. I hated it when he did that- it made me feel like a foal again- but I allowed him to do it anyways. He meant nothing serious by it.
As we stood out there, waiting for my carriage to come get me and take me back to the inn that I was staying at, I began to hear… well, I suppose some would call it music. To me, though, it was just discordant notes all stacked up on top of each other.
I believe the enthusiasts of this particular brand of music called it “dubstep”.
In any case, I wrinkled my nose at the distasteful thought of having to listen to such base “music”, for lack of a better name, even for the short period of time between then and the moment when my carriage arrived. Unfortunately for me, my manager noticed my expression of disgust and sighed.
“Madame Octavia…” he began, “what have I tried to tell you a hundred thousand times about judging things before you get to know them? I know you do not particularly care for that brand of music, but others do, and-“
I had to cut him off then. I already knew where he was going with it, anyways. “And, what? I know what you are going to tell me, Treble. You are going to say that I have not heard enough of the music to be able to formulate my own opinion on whether or not I like it, and that I should look into it more if I want to be opinionated on it.” I sighed in resignation. “I know what I like, my friend. And that is not what-“
It was then that I saw those eyes for the first time, and the clock stopped for me in that moment.
The two buildings were arranged such so that the back entrance to the dance club faced the back entrance to the theatre. The back door to the club had just opened, and a white pony stepped out. She looked to be just as chilled as I was, and I had been out there for far longer than she had- at least, I thought it was a female. I didn’t know at first, though I was later to find out that my initial assumption had been correct.
But anyways, I thought that maybe she did not take kindly to the cold. Some ponies did well in the frigid weather, others… not so much. I was definitely one to fall into that latter category, and it would appear this newcomer did as well.
I noticed first off that she was wearing a very large pair of sunglasses over her eyes. That, truthfully, was what caused me to be interested in her to begin with. It looked like she had been wearing them even while inside, and because I knew nopony who wore their sunglasses while still inside, this definitely struck me as being odd.
Regardless of all of this, though, I did not want to alert her to my presence, for fear that she might decide to come over and try to ask us for something. So, I kept quiet, and thankfully for him, my manager followed my lead.
She’d taken off her sunglasses a few seconds later, and was using her coat to clean them. I noticed then that her cutie mark was a pair of bridged eighth notes, signifying at least a passing knowledge of music. I pointed this out to my manager- not literally, of course, as this would have only served to thwart my plan of not drawing attention to us- and he nodded in recognition.
The white pony looked around, ostensibly to see if anypony was watching her, and then… well, she did something that rather surprised me. She leaned back against the wall of the building, closed her eyes…
And she started to cry.
I did not know what to think at this point. Here was a pony who was expressing her sadness so openly, with little fear of anypony else’s thoughts on the matter. I had been raised, on the other hoof, to be stoic in my emotional avenues, not really letting on to anypony about my emotional states, no matter which way they be fluctuating.
This pony was almost entirely different from myself, I had concluded.
Suddenly, she began to speak out loud, still completely oblivious to our presence just a few yards away. “When is it going to end?!” she cried out. “I can’t take much of this anymore! Something… has… TO GIVE!!!”
I couldn’t help but let out a small yelp at the force of her words, which is what ultimately led her to deduce that she was not alone in that small back alley. She looked up and saw me, which is when I truly got a glimpse of her eyes for the first time.
They were a brilliant shade of red, almost ruby in color. They sparkled with a life that was at once radiant and dying. Her tears, streaming down her face, seemed to stand still in that moment, making it look like she had diamonds encrusted below her eyes.
I could not take my eyes off of her.
Unfortunately, she misinterpreted my gaze, and covered her eyes quickly with her tinted glasses. She opened the door to the club, running back inside, but not before she had called out one last time, this time directed right at me: “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean for you to hear that…!”
I was shocked to the very core. I could not believe that what had just transpired had actually just happened. It was like I was dreaming. Nothing like that had ever happened to me before.
More than that, though… I could not get her eyes out of my mind’s eye. I was mesmerized by them. They were the most beautiful things I had ever seen in my life, and believe you me- I’ve seen more than my fair share of beautiful objects.
Practically without realizing I was doing it, I found myself running as fast as I could towards the club. My manager cried out for me to come back, that the carriage was going to be arriving at any second. I did not care, though. The carriage would just have to sit there and wait for me to come back.
At that moment, I cared only for seeing those eyes again, and making a rightful introduction to the pony to which they belonged.
The moment I opened the door to the back of the club, my ears were assaulted by the loud music emanating from deeper inside the halls. My confidence waned for a moment. If I couldn’t stand hearing this music from the theatre exit, where the music was quite soft even compared to this… then how on earth was I going to stand it when I got into the actual club itself, which at this point was behind a few doors to provide at least a bit of sound muffling?
Those eyes were seared into my mind, though, and I could not stop until my mission was complete. So I set aside all of my misgivings, and made my way into the club itself.
As I first stepped inside, I noticed that something was not right. It took me a moment to place it, but when I finally did so, I gasped audibly. Everyone was wearing the same glasses that the original pony was! And more than a few of them had somehow painted their bodies to match that pony’s body as well.
How on earth was I supposed to find her, then?
As I meandered throughout the crowd, which was writhing seemingly in unison to the thumping beats coming from the speakers placed strategically around the room, I began to wonder just why on earth everypony was trying to emulate that one pony in particular. A few more looks around the room, and it all came falling into place.
That pony that I’d seen outside was the one who was the DJ for the club. All of this was being done by the patrons to show their appreciation for the one who was providing the music. It was rather astonishing. No one in my circle would ever do that for me, or for any of my contemporaries for that matter.
I looked around to see if I could find anyone I knew, but I soon realized that it was a futile effort. This was not my scene- never had been, never would be, not as far as I knew anyways. So, I settled for just finding a friendly face. I found one soon enough, a light purple pony standing in the rear of the room. I made my way over to her.
“Pardon me, miss?” I called out as I got near her. She looked up at me from her drink.
“You talkin’ to me?” she asked.
I nodded. “Can you tell me something, please?”
She laughed a bit. “Depends, sweetheart. What’s it you want to know?”
“That pony that is up on the stage, playing the… music… What is her name?”
She looked at me a bit funny. “You don’t normally come out to clubs, do you? It’s written all over your face.” Oh. I hadn’t realized I looked the part of a newcomer.
I cleared my throat. “Well, yes, I am quite new to this scene.”
She smiled warmly at me. “It’s ok, everyone’s new sometime. Her name is-“
I never got to hear her name, because at that exact moment, I felt myself being bodily pulled away from her. I looked up to see her as I left, and she had a rather sad expression on her face. I tried to yell out that I was sorry for this, but I doubt she could have heard me anyways. The music was too loud, and there was just too much distance between us at this point.
There was only one person who could have been doing this to me, and I already knew I was furious at him. When we got out to the carriage and were situated, I turned to my manager.
“I was so close!” I practically yelled. “I almost found out who she was!”
“Who that pony was?” Treble asked.
“Who else would I be talking about?!” I was being a bit forceful with him, I knew, but part of me didn’t care at all. I was so close to finding out the name of the pony that those soulful eyes had belonged to, and my opportunity had been simply… torn from me.
The rational part of me, though, won out as I knew it eventually would, and I slumped down into my seat, my facial expression lightening up a bit. “I am sorry, Treble. I just wished I could have found that out for myself.”
He nodded. “Someday, you will, Miss Octavia. Someday, you will.” I could tell he wanted to say more to me on the matter, but to his credit he refrained from doing so, instead contenting himself with motioning to the driver that we were ready to go.
The carriage pulled away from the theatre, the club… and the pony that had captivated my thoughts.
I had spent the next two days in a bit of an interminable funk. This normally happened to me in the days following a large event. My body, in spite of everyone’s best efforts to train it to the contrary, just did not handle stress very well.
So, the few days following a big concert were devoted specifically to downtime. This gave me more than enough time to let my mind rest and recuperate, not to mention my physical body. By the next concert, I would have regained my faculties, and would be ready to go again.
Except this time, I had the complication of those ruby eyes… They were in my mind constantly. I even started having dreams about them, where I would be walking down crowded streets and as I looked at the ponies that I was passing, all of them…
All of them would have her eyes. They all seemed to be staring into my very soul, just like she seemed to do on that first night. I would wake up in violent sweats, from the force of it all.
On that first night after the concert, when the dreams hit and I woke up as I did, even though I was rather scared of the whole ordeal, I let it go. I thought it was just something that was just a one-time occurrence, and then my body and mind would realize it for the chance happening that it was and let it go so I could move on with my life and not have to think about it all the time.
But when it happened that second night as well, I had to come to grips with something. This pony was starting to mean something to me, and I had not seen her but one time. This was simply not like me at all!
So, after the second night of my having those dreams, I decided that I was going to do something I had never done before. I was going to go back to that club- willingly go, mind you- and I was going to talk to that pony and find out who she was.
My carriage driver did not mind taking me there, and my manager had no problem with it either, as my next concert was not scheduled until the following week. So, I was driven over there. It was warmer that day than it was the night of the concert, but it still was not up to my comfort zone.
The carriage dropped me off at the front door and pulled around to wait for me to get out. As I looked at the front of the building, I realized that it looked positively… plain. I am still not sure what I expected it to look like- maybe something flashy or gaudy, to attract the clubbers to the neon lights and pulsing music inside. But, much to my surprise, the outside of the front looked remarkably similar to the outside of the back: brick and mortar, standard coloration.
I had a job to do, though, and I was not about to get it done staring at the outside of a building. So, I went inside- or I would, anyways, if it were not for the fact that the building was closed up. I walked back to my carriage, chuckling as a realization hit: there was probably a reason why it would be called a “night club”. It was probably only open at night, whereas I went there in mid-morning.
It made sense that it would not be open at that time.
As long as I was in Manehattan, though, there was one other place I could check. It was a music store that I had visited a few times to try to find some new music that I would actually like. That was where I first discovered “dubstep,” and (not so coincidentally) where I’d first discovered I could not stand the stuff.
All I knew, though, was that it was worth a shot, so I told my carriage driver to take me over there. He nodded and set off in that direction.
It took only a few minutes to get there, and once again he told me he would pull around when I was done. I nodded and walked into the record store. Immediately, the store owner- who, by virtue of also being the store’s sole employee, worked the front desk in addition to doing all the other manager-ly duties- perked up at the sight of my walking in.
“Octavia!” he said heartily. “What brings you in here? Want to look for some more of the classics for inspiration? Or maybe some more of that melodic group you were telling me about, who was it again? Ah, yes, the Trans-Equestrian Orchestra.”
I smiled at the reminder. “I would like to get their new album, yes, but… well, I actually came here for a slightly different reason. It’s a rather odd one, too.”
After he’d gotten out the album I was wanting and set it on the counter, he looked back over to me. “Alright, so tell me. What exactly is this odd request of yours?”
“Here is what I am wanting,” I began. “There was a concert of mine a few days ago-“
“I know. I was there. It was magnificent.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Thank you, but that is not what I am getting at. At the same time that my concert was going on, there was somepony who was doing dubstep DJ’ing at the club that is right behind the theatre. You would not happen to know who that pony is, do you?”
His face fell a bit. “I can’t say I do, Miss Octavia. I was payin’ too much attention to the concert and all, I didn’t even stop to think of what could have been around that night. I don’t really care much for the club scene, anyways.”
“Nor do I, my friend.” I gave him the bits for the album and walked out, waving to him as I left. I started walking over to the carriage, motioning for my driver to pull it up. When he did so, I got in and told him to head back home.
I got home later that afternoon and collapsed into my bed, exhausted. That night, once again, I dreamed of those haunted eyes.
Thankfully for me, I guess, the next few days after my second trip to Manehattan did not allow me much time at all to think about that pony. The very next day, my manager surprised me by announcing, with much fanfare, that he had booked me in a last-minute concert in Detrot, and that we needed to leave immediately in order to make it there on time.
After giving him a thorough tongue-lashing (“HOW MANY TIMES DO I HAVE TO TELL YOU NOT TO DO THAT TO ME?! YOU KNOW I CANNOT PERFORM MY BEST ON SUCH SHORT NOTICE!!!”) I acquiesced, and we made it to Detrot with only a few hours to spare.
Mercifully, the crowd we were playing for was much more laid-back than the ones I am used to, and they did not seem to mind much that I was performing my routine with only a few hours of practice, as opposed to the few days of practice that I normally put into my concerts.
Then again, I doubted they even knew.
I did not get back to my home until very early the next morning, and by then I was very much exhausted. I went to bed right away and did not wake up until the next day, which I hate very much when I do that. I do not like to sleep away an entire day. Then again, I did need it.
I spent the next day simply lazing around the house, spending time with my parents and my little sister, whom I do not really get to see much as a result of my concert schedule. Lucky for us, though, she was on break from her ponymentary school, and thus we were able to get to spend a good bit of quality time together.
The day after that- one full week to the day since I’d gazed upon that pony- I set out to Ponyville to speak with the town’s elected leader, Mayor Mare, about performing an open-air concert there in the future as a kick-off to a highly-hyped Wonderbolts performance.
The trip was uneventful, and when I got to Ponyville I was welcomed warmly by Mayor Mare and a select revue. I spent most of the day in Miss Mare’s office, hammering out all of the nitpicking details. Finally, closer to dusk, we got everything finished and I left to head back to the carriage. I was very tired and not at all in the mood to interact with anyone.
Unfortunately, somepony had other plans.
Before I could make it back to my carriage, I was utterly startled when a bright pink pony appeared out of nowhere. Did she jump from behind me and land all the way in front of me? My, this pony was athletic…
“Hiya there!” she said, entirely too enthusiastically. “You must be the wonderful Octavia! We all heard you were going to be coming here today! How did you like Ponyville?”
I wasn’t about to let on to her that I was annoyed by her mere presence. I was much more graceful and professional than that. So, I simply responded with, “It is just as I expected it to be, and I thank you for being so kind as to speak to me. Now, if you’ll excuse me-“
“Hey! I just realized something! You’ve got something heavy weighing on your mind, don’t you?”
This snapped me out of my internal reverie. Was this one really so intuitive that she could sense my plight, even though I’d said or done nothing to alert her to that fact...? I was so shocked by this that I let my defenses down, and I practically could not stop myself from answering her.
“Well, yes, as a matter of fact, there is… You see, about a week ago, I met a pony and, well… she had the most beautiful and haunting eyes that I had ever seen in my whole life. I have no idea who she is, though, but I would love to meet her sometime.”
The pink one grinned. “Well, tell me more about her! Maybe I know her!”
“I don’t know… It could be anypony.”
“Just try me, silly! I’ve got nothing better to do!” As if to accentuate her point, she sat down abruptly, making a “pomf” noise as her rump hit the ground.
“Well, alright then… From what I can remember, she had a white coat and-“
“Hold on, let me guess the rest! A music note for her cutie mark, wearing these giant rose-tinted glasses, probably doing something that had to do with dubstep… Stop me if I’m wrong yet.”
My previous annoyance with her had now entirely evaporated. I simply could not believe my good fortune. This random pony who greeted me, was seemingly the only one who could point me in the right direction!
“Yes! That is exactly who I am looking for! Do you know her name?”
“Well, duh! She’s famous around here! Even more famous than me, and I’m Ponyville’s resident party queen! Which is ironic- I think… is that the right word? Yeah, it must be, 'cause it's the one I thought of- because really the only reason why she comes to Ponyville is to DJ my parties. So she’s more famous than me, even though my parties are the reason why-“
“Okay, I get that much, but where can I find her?”
“Oh, that bit? Well, I think she lives in Canterlot, actually. Which is weird, because I thought Canterlot was for pony royalty and blue-bloods… But oh well! Did I help you out a little bit, at least?”
I smiled at her. “Yes, my new friend. You sure did.”
Her grin grew to immense proportions, and she jumped up in the air for joy, with fireworks going off behind her. I couldn’t believe my eyes; where on earth were those fireworks coming from? They were nowhere in sight… just appearing out of nowhere.
“I’m so glad to make a new friend!” she exclaimed when she landed. “I love making new friends! New friends are just as good as old friends, in my book! Hey, I never told you my name, did I?” When I shook my head, she continued, “Well, you can just call me Pinkie Pie, then.”
I heard my driver calling me over to the carriage, so I knew I needed to wrap it up quickly. “Thank you, Pinkie Pie. I hope to see you again soon.” I started to head off in the direction of the carriage when I realized something. I turned around as fast as I could and yelled off after her, “Hey, Pinkie Pie! You forgot to tell me her name!”
She turned to face me again. “Oh! Whoops, sorry! Her name is Vinyl Scratch, but she goes by DJ Pon-3 when she’s doing her DJ work!” She waved animatedly at me, then turned and ran off, calling out to somepony named Applejack as she went.
I went over to the carriage and sat down, very tired but very excited at the same time. For the first time since meeting the mystery pony, I had a solid lead as to how to track her down. I had her name. Vinyl Scratch. It seemed appropriate, seeing her normal DJ routine. I smiled as the carriage went off around the bend, back in the direction of our house.
I had a concert that upcoming weekend in Canterlot. Maybe then, I thought, I would get to meet her.
The next few days were just about perfectly paced. I had a few arrangements to go to the day after I met the one who called herself Pinkie Pie, but none of them were too stressful. Mostly just meet-and-greets at previous concert locations. A few autograph signings for ponies who had put up enough bits to get put on the guest rosters.
Like I said, nothing too stressful. That is, until the second day after my trip to Ponyville.
I was alerted by one of my assistants that there was someone at the front door who wished to see me. Upon asking him who it was, I was informed that he did not know, only that she did not request for me by name because, apparently, she did not know it.
I was a bit wary, but I still went down to the front door.
“Hello? Can I help y-“
And there she was. Standing in front of the door to my modest house. She had her glasses off, though her eyes were closed.
“C-can I help you?” I managed to squeak out.
She looked up at me and opened her eyes. I was struck at just how little my impression of her eyes had changed since the first time I saw them. They were still just as beautiful and haunting as they were that first night, and my heart- I cannot tell a lie- skipped a beat as she looked into my eyes.
She did not say a word though, but just stood there looking at me. I could swear that she was looking right through me, staring through my eyes and straight into my very soul. I know that such a thing is not possible, at least not as far as I am aware of, but for some reason, that thought, that image...
It just seemed right.
I was about to say something else, when she slowly reached down and picked her glasses up off of the ground, putting them back on. “I’m sorry…” she said. “It was a mistake coming here.” She turned around, making like she was going to leave.
“It was no mistake,” I said quietly. “You had every intention of coming here to say something to me. So why not just say it?”
She stopped at the sound of my voice, though she did not turn back around. It took her a moment to formulate a response, but when she did speak again, her voice was almost cracking: “Your next concert… it’s in Canterlot, correct?”
“Yes.”
“You just might see me there. I’ve heard you play before, and… well, you’re one of the greatest musicians I’ve ever heard.” She did not give me a chance to respond, but instead adjusted the glasses on her head, then walked down the driveway and rounded the corner.
As soon as she was out of my sight, I took a very deep breath, my first in what seemed like ages. There was so much new information that had just been presented to me; I scarcely knew where to begin in regards to processing it. Not only had she heard my life’s work for herself, but… she genuinely enjoyed it?
I suppose I should not have been surprised, as it would have been rather foolish of me to believe that just because a pony dedicates their time to producing one kind of music, then that must necessarily mean that said genre of music is also all that they ever listen to. Still, though…
Now I wanted more than ever for my concert in Canterlot to come up, if only just to see if Vinyl would really show up.
As I closed the door and headed back up to my room, I replayed the conversation in my head. Almost simultaneously, I started kicking myself- mentally, that is. There were so many things that I identified that I could have done differently. For starters, I probably should have at least called her by name. That would have broken the ice a bit- or would it have caused more problems than anything else?
She probably would have wanted to know who told me her name, and maybe she didn’t want it getting out about her involvement with the Party Mare herself. But why not? As far as Pinkie had told me, their parties had all been rousing successes, and quite a few ponies knew about them and attended them on a regular basis.
I was overthinking things, of that I was sure. I just didn’t know how else to think at that particular moment. Except, well I did know how to think.
I knew for a fact that it was going to be torture having to wait for that next Canterlot concert.
As the days passed me by and my Canterlot concert drew near, I found myself having to confront some issues that I had been putting off addressing since that very first night I saw her. Now that the possibility of her coming to one of my concerts- a huge step, I know- was more real than ever, though… I knew I finally had to face some facts.
I have never been in love before. Yes, that may seem like a rather sad existence to live in, but you have to see it from my perspective. All of my life has been dedicated to the classics, and learning them to the best of my abilities. Whatever free time I had, I devoted almost exclusively towards practicing and writing my own music.
I only allowed my family to intrude on my “private time.”
Now, though, I was having to seriously address a concern. Was I falling in love with this pony named Vinyl Scratch? I did not see how that was possible. I mean, we had not even had any real semblance of conversation with each other- well, save for the front porch incident, and that was not really even a conversation, more of a terse exchange of words. We had not even come close to any amount of time dedicated towards getting to know each other.
And let us not fail to address the real elephant in the room here: the fact that we are both females. Now, I know that our society does not deign to reject anyone, save that malicious bitch known as Trixie. (Yes, I know, her antics were confined primarily to Ponyville, but I am quite aware of the things that she has done, and due to my more… antiquated sensibilities, I find her actions to be utterly reprehensible.)
However, as I just stated, I was raised by a very traditional household, and one of the things that my parents had- and still do- denounce, was the notion of two female ponies being in a monogamous relationship together. To them, it was male-on-female and nothing else.
Personally, I’d never really given much thought to the matter, which is why it has caught me off guard so much that the first pony I’ve ever been in love with is, indeed, the same gender as myself.
By the time I made a decision as to what I was going to do next, there was only one day remaining before the big Canterlot concert. I knew that if I was to have any sort of peace about what actions I was going to be taking concerning this matter, I had to go and speak to someone I could actually trust. Sadly, that individual- the first one I thought of, anyways- had passed away quite a number of years ago. So, I was just about forced to go with my second choice.
And thus, back to Ponyville I went.
My carriage driver dropped me off at the front entrance to the Ponyville auditorium. Coincidentally, I just happened to be met there by Mayor Mare herself.
“Oh!” she said when she saw me. “Hello there, Octavia! I’m so terribly sorry we had to re-schedule our Ponyville concerto. We were all so looking forward to it…”
I smiled kindly. “That is quite alright. I have a big concert in Canterlot tomorrow, and I need to be prepared for that. But it is good that I met up with you, because I have something I need to ask. You would not happen to know where the one named Pinkie Pie lives, do you?”
“Oh, Pinkie? I’m not entirely sure where she lives, but around this time she’s usually doing her daily work at the Cake family bakery.” She gave me directions to the place, and I smiled and went on my way.
When I got there, Pinkie was actually the one who greeted me.
“Welcome to the Cake family bakery! How can I- OH MY CELESTIA, IT’S YOU!” She bounded up to me and hugged me tightly around the neck. “OCTAVIA! YOU’RE BACK!!!”
I smiled a bit awkwardly. “Um… it is a pleasure to see you again as well, Miss Pie.”
“Oh please, call me Pinkie! I already told you that, though, silly me!” She bounded over to the counter. “So! What can I get you?” I ordered a carrot cake cupcake, and she went back into the kitchen to make it.
I sat down in a corner booth, and less than a minute later she brought it out to me. “Let me know what you think of it!”
I took a small bite of it, and I couldn’t help but smile widely. “That might just be… the most delicious cupcake I have ever had.” Pinkie grinned wider than I’d ever seen her before.
“Perfect!” she exclaimed. “Now if you’ll excuse me-“
“Um, actually…” I interjected. “I came here to talk to you about something. I need your advice on… a particular matter.”
The look on her face was priceless; her jaw dropped further than I would have ever thought possible. “The great Octavia… wants my advice?”
I blushed a bit, I’m sure. “I am not that great, Pinkie… But yes, I would like to pick your brain on something.”
She looked at me a bit funny. “Why would you want to do that? I got a lot of really ooky stuff going on up there. You probably don’t want anything to do with that.”
I’m about to respond when I realize what she means. “Oh no, I was not speaking literally. I just meant what I said before: I need your advice on something.”
“You want my advice? Oh wow, this is an honor!!!” I could have sworn we’d already been through this…
She sat down on the bench opposite mine. “Okie dokie lokie! Fire away!”
“Well…” I was a bit hesitant at first, but seeing as I had already come all the way out there, I might as well make the most of it and actually do what it was that I had set out to do in the first place. “See here is the thing. I have recently discovered that I have feelings-“
“Ooh, really! Who’s the lucky one?”
“Well that is the problem… I was raised to be very traditionalist, which included male-on-female romances, and-“
“Oh, let me guess. You’ve fallen for a filly?”
Her perceptiveness strikes again. “Yes…”
“It’s Vinyl, isn’t it?”
I had just taken another bite of my cupcake, but at this last sentiment, I nearly choked on my bite. “Um, well, you see-“
“Oh, I can see it in your eyes. It is her, isn’t it?” She was positively glowing. “Oh, this is so awesome! I’ve been saying for a really long time that she needs to find herself somepony special!”
“So… you do not have any objections to, oh what is the term nowadays… fillyfooling?”
“Nope! None at all! Way I see it, if you love someone, then you love them. It should be for who they are on the inside. Nopony should let something as trivial as gender stop them from being with the pony they want to be with!”
To be so open with the way that she feels about things… I wish I could be like that…
“But what about everypony else? Surely they-“
“Why should you care about what they say? If it feels right to you, then go with it! There’s no reason why you shouldn’t be happy, just so everypony else can be. Besides, what if she feels the same way as you? Do you really want to deprive her of happiness, too?”
Just then, another customer walked into the store. “Ooh, I gotta take this! Be right back!” She bounded over to the counter, calling out as she did, “Welcome to the Cake family bakery! What can I getcha today, Fluttershy? Another batch of muffins for you and Derpy?”
As the two ponies conversed, I couldn’t help but sit there and mull over what Pinkie had said as I finished the rest of my cupcake. Why shouldn’t I be happy? And what if Vinyl felt the same way that I did? Pinkie had a definite point there.
I finished my cupcake and walked up to the counter, seeing that Pinkie was in the back making Fluttershy’s order. I nodded to her, smiling- hearing her whisper “Oh my… is that… Octavia…?”- and put a twenty-bit tip into the tip jar up front.
Yes, the cupcake only cost two bits, but what did I care? I could afford it. And besides… the amount had more to do with the advice than anything else. Even though that was one delicious cupcake…
I walked out with my resolve determined. The next day could not come soon enough.
The next day came way sooner than I could have ever thought.
I had barely had any time to think about what I was going to say to her, if indeed she showed up. Everything was just a blur, like it always was the day of a concert. I’d been bustled to Canterlot early in the morning, and was forced to go through a million warm-up routines throughout the day. I knew they were all necessary, but sometimes I wished things would just slow down a bit so I could actually appreciate the beauty of it all.
Before I knew it, it was show time. I walked out onto the stage, and took in yet another sold-out concert hall. I briefly scanned the auditorium seating, hoping against hope that I would see those vibrant eyes staring back at me.
Sadly, that was not the case.
My dream was dashed, and I am pretty sure it showed on my face and in my demeanor. I walked over to the chair behind my cello and sat down. As I mentally prepped myself one last time, I barely registered the back door opening. Another latecomer, I assumed. Something, however, prompted me to look up.
And when I did, I saw her take those glasses off, and look me straight in the eyes. She smiled, and my world melted. I smiled back at her, and began to play.
My performance that night was better than it had ever been, the audience members would later say. What on earth came over her? they would ask. What sort of inspiration did she have for such a momentous performance?
If only they knew…
As usual, my manager and assistants whisked me away after the show. I tried to stop them- “What if she comes to find me? I’ve got to see her!”- but they would not listen, instead opting to take me out back like they normally did.
But when I got out the back entrance, I had nary a chance to register that my carriage had already arrived. Because… she was there. Waiting for me.
She smiled at me. “I told you I’d be here.”
I couldn’t help but smile back. “Yes. Yes, you did. And I am glad to hear that you are a mare of her word.”
She pulled out a pad of paper and, using her magic to manipulate a quill pen, wrote something down on the top sheet. She handed it to me and, without saying another word, put her glasses back on and disappeared around the corner.
I read the paper and what it said. “283 Canterlot Square. Come over any time you want.” It was accentuated with a hastily-scribbled heart.
My own heart fluttered at these words. Maybe, just maybe… everything would work out after all.
All of this has led me to this one moment. It has been scarcely two hours since the Canterlot concert ended. I am standing on Vinyl’s front porch, waiting for her to arrive back home. I figured I would get there first, seeing as I had my carriage to take me there, and well… I really do not know how she gets around.
I hope against hope that this will turn out for the best. My dreams may be fulfilled on this day-
Wait. There she is. She is coming down the driveway. She is looking at me.
Oh. Her eyes are brightening up. Those beautiful, haunting eyes.
“Hello, Vinyl. I hope I am not bothering you.”
Beauty, I have seen thine face, and have heard thine name, and I shall never forget it.
Vinyl Scratch.
