Limits

Chapter 5-
-Choices-

“Loosen up Soarin!” Spitfire laughed nudging the lethargic colt in the ribs. The fiery maned mare’s smile faltered, her bright excited eyes growing dim as she realized that perhaps she had made a mistake. “You like this kind of thing don’t you?”

The music from the club could be felt in the hooves of every pony waiting to get inside but Soarin wasn’t paying any attention, despite the fact if he had been he would have realized it was one of his favorite tracks. Instead his eyes traveled across the oddly adorned ponies mingling with one another as they waited. He had always been proud of his windswept look but it seemed to him as if these ponies went out of the way to look ridiculous, donning mane styles that defied physics.

“Why did you bring me here?” He asked growing uncomfortable. His stomach felt heavy as if he’d swallowed stones.

“Think of it as a farewell present.” The yellow mare said with an ever growing smile. “You know, one last hurrah.”

“You make it sound like my funeral.” Soarin retorted with an unamused glare. He hadn’t known if that was meant to be a joke or not but it wasn’t funny. Spitfire grimaced realizing her mistake. “Sorry.”

“That’s him!” A squeaky exuberant voice shouted the sound carrying easily over the din. “That’s Soarin from the Wonderbolts!”

Soarin turned his ears forward as voices saying his name caught his attention. His gaze settled on a group of adolescent mares. They were certainty old enough to be infatuated with colts but he was less sure if they were old enough to be hanging out at a nightclubs. He nodded his head ever so slightly, acknowledging their recognition.

Soarin groaned inwardly as they took his acknowledgment for an invitation. Spitfire offered him a devious smile, punching him playfully in the shoulder. He hissed as the gesture jarred his wing. Within moments of Spitfire’s departure he had been swarmed by curious ponies spitting questions at him with an intensity he hadn’t been expecting, much less prepared for.

It was situations like this that agitated the pony most. Soarin was a closet claustrophobe, harboring a secret fear of tight spaces and swarming crowds like this one; a situation easily avoided had he use of his wings. As it was he could only cast his eyes about frantically, searching for Spitfire while ignoring the continued inquiries by his rabid fans, which were quickly becoming the stuff of nightmares.

“Step off you lot of double crossing lightweights!” A welcome voice shouted, instantaneously drawing the attention of everypony in the vicinity. The music coming from within the nightclub, despite its intensity, was unable to drown out her voice. “You lot make me sick! There’s only one pony you should be sucking up to and that pony is me!”

The sunglass clad unicorn nodded to the two flanking security ponies. Soarin got to his hooves as the ponies pushed the crowd back. Without the distraction of fear Soarin realized he had at some point bitten into his lip hard enough to break skin.

“If I see such callous uncivilized behavior from any of you again I’ll 86 you’re flanks so fast your tail’s be coming out your noses! You got me?” The ponies gathered gave each other confused and ashamed glances. An arrogant smirk settled on the punk pony’s lips. “Now get back in line before I change my mind!”

--

“You should have told me you were coming.” The DJ pony said as she joined the pair of Wonderbolt’s backstage. “I would have let you in the back door.”

“It was her idea.” Soarin answered bitterly wiping blood from his lip. Spitfire ignored the connotation more interested in the white unicorn with the electric blue mane.

“So you’re DJ Pon-3!” Spitfire exclaimed eagerly. Her school filly excitement at seeing the DJ pony in the flesh surprised Soarin, who was positive she had no idea who she really was.

“That’s Vinyl Scratch to you sweet stuff.” The unicorn said winking at Spitfire over her trademark purple shades. The yellow mare blushed furiously and Soarin just rolled his eyes.

“Give it a rest V.” A stunningly beautiful grey pony, with a raven black mane and mesmerizing violet eyes, said. She had been listening to the conversation from the far corner, where she busied herself quietly tuning her instrument, a cello as big as she was. Vinyl Scratch sidled up to the posh pony an impish smile on her lips. “You jealous?”

“Hardly.” The sophisticated mare answered with a sarcastic eye roll, the barest hint of an accent slipping as she spoke. “That is to say…What I meant was…” The mare corrected, stumbling over her words, as she noticed the yellow mare watching from the sofa bite her lip self consciously. “Vinyl would be lucky to have a mare like you, wouldn’t you Vinyl?”

“Are you giving me permission?” The DJ asked playfully.

“Of course not!” The nameless gray pony squealed, taken aback by the very idea. A slight crimson hue came to the mare cheeks.

“You should see your face!” Vinyl managed to spit out between fits of raucous laughter. Spitfire giggled at the exchange while Soarin merely watched. They were an odd pair to be sure but he had never seen a happier couple. He would be lying if he didn’t say he was a little envious.

“Sometimes I can’t stand you!” The gray pony said abruptly replacing her instrument in its massive velvet lined case. Mediocre music pumping into the small room from the nightclub faded out as she slammed the door behind her. Vinyl rolled to her hooves, wiping the tears from her eyes.

“It’ll all be worth it baby!” The DJ pony shouted at the door. Spitfire flushed again as her mind flooded with errant thoughts. She wasn’t a stranger to relations with other ponies but never before had she thought about those between mares so freely. A thick silence hung over the room.

“Why don’t you go and have a chat with Octavia.” Vinyl suggested to Spitfire, deciding upon something she had been contemplating since saving Soarin from the overwhelming crowd outside. The Wonderbolt shot the pair a confused look at the unexpected change in atmosphere. Her eyes lingered on her friend several moments before he gave her the most fake smile she had ever seen on any pony.

“Go have fun Fire.” Soarin encouraged. “I’ll catch up.”

--

A cool breeze rose up from the valley below, ruffling Soarin’s mane pleasantly. It had been a while since he could enjoy the sensation, anymore his mind always on keeping his body aloft, or how to flawlessly pull off any of the tricks he was so well known for. He had forgotten what it felt like to fly for the sheer joy of it.

Vinyl stood beside him, her eyes watching the vibrant hues of sunrise peek over the distant mountains, as above them the starlight quickly faded.

“When you gonna hit on that?” Vinyl asked referring to Spitfire, who was probably passed out on the couch back at the club. “She seems like a real nice pony”

“It’s not like that.” Soarin answered, grimacing lightly at the suggestion. He knew she was trying to cheer him up but it wasn’t working. “Besides I think she has a crush on you.”

“Don’t tell Octavia.” Vinyl shot back, laughed loudly, her voice echoing across the sky. “I got a good thing going with her. I’d hate to ruin it now.”

The unicorn removed her shades, rubbing her eyes with her hooves. They were raw and bloodshot from overuse and lack of sleep. Soarin noticed her pupils quivering ever so slightly. For several months now she had been complaining of headaches and blurry vision, finally relenting to seeing an eye doctor at Octavia’s insistence.

“How long do you have?” Soarin wondered out loud.

“The doc said I’ll be completely blind within the month, maybe less.” The unicorn answered sadly. Even now she could only see traces of light and color; the shades blending together much like an abstract painting. How she managed to function as if nothing were wrong amazed Soarin, who until recently had never imagined life without flight.

“How do you cope?” He wondered. He longed to stretch his wings, to feel the breeze against his feathers, but he only managed to raise them a few inches before the searing pain stopped his progress. He reluctantly folded them again.

“You find something you love even more.” The mare answered after a moment of thought. “I’m going to lose my sight for good but I’m not worried because nothing I’ve ever seen has been as beautiful as the music she makes.”

“That’s…the cheesiest thing I’ve ever heard.” Soarin said laughing lightly. Vinyl’s voice drowned this out as she nudged him fondly with her hoof. “If you want to go I won’t stop you.”

“As if you could.” He retorted arrogantly. Normally that statement would have been punctuated with a wing flourish but he fought that particular urge down, not looking forward to the pain it would bring.

“Maybe you should try to be somepony else for a while?” The white unicorn pony suggested seriously, her blazing red eyes watching him. “Until you find yourself again.”

“Somepony else?” He repeated thinking of Vinyl Scratch’s stage name DJ Pon-3. The pony that stood beside him now was not the same pony that had burst through the nightclub door nearly an hour before and scattered the mob, nor was she the same pony who teased Octavia and Spitfire so casually but rather a third pony.

“You think it’ll be that easy?” Soarin asked as he ran his hooves through his mane with a heavy sigh.

“It doesn’t matter what I think, it matters what you try.” The unicorn said philosophically. She wrinkled her brow in displeasure. “I can’t believe I just said that.”

Soarin laughed, the sound genuinely heartfelt. “I like this side of you.”

“You tell anypony and I’ll rip your wings off.” She said with a murderous smile. Soarin’s own smile faltered at that, as he forced his wings wide fighting the pain that flared up as a result. He took several minutes adjusting to it before climbing on the rail that protected non-pegasi ponies from the massive drop to the valley below. “Let’s hope you get that chance.”