The new, the old and Anon

>Be Anon, the only human in Equestria.
>You lucky fuck.
>A normal day for you starts at the crack of dawn, which is 9:30am for your ass.
>Your bed isn't even a bed either, its a goddamn couch. It smells like energy drinks laced with pop rocks and vodka.
>In short, it reeks of Vinyl Scratch who if you are not currently mistaken is passed the fuck out, neatly draped over your head.
>As more of your brain boots up the previous night comes back in bits and pieces.
>The Music. The bitching party!
>Oh fuck the headache. You'd swear Octavia was using your brain stem to restring her instrument.
>Wait. Why the fuck is everything blue and white?!
>A few more bleary eyed blinks and your protesting brain finally accepts that you are in fact wearing glasses. Specifically a pair that is harshly tinted blue.
>You don't wear glasses. This raises more questions.
>You start to sigh before the breath sticks in your dry throat. How much liqour did you chug last night? You blame the white pony on your head.
>Time to wake her up like usual.
>Neatly perched at the perfect height to your lips was the marshmellow pony's marehood. Fucking swear she did this on purpose.
>The sigh returns and briefly you consider going in dry. That would just ruin the whole thing. It's annoying at times but the alternative is shit.
>It takes your cotton filled mouth several minutes to work up enough spit to moisten your tongue.
>More pieces of last night drift into your mind.
>You challenged Vinyl to a drinking contest.
>It was a tie with predictable results, namely a blow out impromptu party.
>Parts of you swear the base is still echoing in the distance after the massive fucking drop Vinyl did.
>Mentally waving away the previous night you prepare to brighten your lunatic DJs morning.
>Extending your tongue a bit you drag the tip across her neither lips. Enough to glide across both in equal measures.
>The pony on your head murmurs in her sleep, twitching slightly as her body responds on its own. Namely moisting herself up so your desert mouth doesn't have to.
>A few more long wandering licks rewards you with a noticible shudder from her. The relaxed grip of her forehooves turns into a firmer grasp around the back of your head.
>Gently you worm your tongue past her folds, taking the time to etch your name on her insides. A swipe here, a dot there and a long plunging dive just because.
>A sharp whistling hiss of breath stops your oral adventure causing you to glance upwards over the rim of the glasses on your face.
>A pair of blood red eyes bore into you above a flushed face. The grin plastered to her mouth seems permanent.
>"Bro I didn't say to fucking stop."
>As if to emphasis her point Vinyl ground her glistening lips against your tongue while a small moan escaped through her grin.
>The corners of your eyes pinch slightly as you smile up at her, though the gesture is lost against the press of her marehood to your mouth.
>She knew you smiled though. You never did disappoint.
>Picking up where you trailed off, you continue to plumb her depths, taking time to reward that winking nub with a few choice licks.
>How many licks does it take to get to the center of Vinyl Scratch?
>One. Right on her clit.
>By now your face is smeared with her fluids and your disheveled shirt is soaked with more than just booze.
>Vinyl is enjoying the fuck out of it though judging by how every twitch of your tongue in her illicts a shuddering moan of pleasure.
>So much that now she's involuntarily grinding herself harder against your face. All you can taste is that wicked amalgamation of flavours that is Vinyl Scratch.
>Mostly its a slightly sour energy drink mixed with a shit load of candy. You don't complain. Hell you live off it.
>"Fuck...A-Anon I'm-"
>Vinyl doesn't even get to finish her stumbling sentence before your good morning routine wracks her body with an unexpected orgasm. Her words twist into a groaning howl of release.
>Marecum floods your face and plasters you with the essence of DJ-Pon3. Unfortunately you let your mind wander a bit too far as you worked her insides.
>A brief panicked sputter is your only comment as the pony loosens her grip around your head and collapses forwards again.
>Mission Accomplished
>Shakily at first you hear a light chuckle above you that grows in strength.
>"Shit dude! That's a hell of a way to say good morning."
>Lazily and with no small amount of reluctance Vinyl starts to slide away from your face, standing on rubber band legs beside you.
>Free of the tyrant pony's control you sit up quickly, grunting as your brain swears it is still laying down.
"Morning Vinyl. What day is it?"
>The mistress of wubs doesn't respond immediately, merely levitating the glasses off your face after giving you a wicked wink.
>"It's Monday you funky monkey. Go take a shower, you smell like sex and the candy I ate last night."
>Carefully you start the arduous process of standing up and not falling over. This is complicated by several factors of being hung over, dehydrated and pitching a tent big enough for a circus in your pants.
>Already those blue shades were set back over her eyes, a shame you always thought but none of the other technicolor ponies enjoyed the red glare.
>Without hesitating the white unicorn levitated an empty record cover and swatted your face with it. She was laughing this time.
>"That means we've got an hour before Octy gets back and freaks the fuck out at this wreck of a house. So stow your dick and go clean up while I get the living room."
>You grumble something about fairness as you pick a path around the party detrius towards the first floor bathroom.
>By the time you reach the door the only thing left on you is a pair of boxers, the rest of your clothes are messily folded over an arm. Anon Jr still wants his turn to play.
>No boner I am assuming direct control.
>A cold shower will freeze the fuck out of you. Quite literally. Jr will remember his place.
>Stepping inside the tiled bathroom you toss your interesting smelling clothes into the hamper and crank the water to teeth chatteringly cold.
>Over the sound of rising water pressure you can hear the occasional thump and bang as furniture is rearranged.
>Not your problem. Yet.
>As soon as the bitterly cold water hits your skin Anon Jr remembers his place, letting you shiver in control. Worth it.
>Not really.
>A short shower later you've washed the grime off and the taste of stale Red Minotaur out of your mouth.
>Wrapped up in a towel and with chattering teeth you step back out into the hallway. You make it three steps before being dumbstruck.
>Everything was clean and tidy. The garbage on the floor was gone. The party streamers and confetti was gone. Vinyl had even wedged the wub station back in its corner and gathered up all her errant records.
>Shit how long were you in the shower? You said the only thing that felt appropriate.
"Goddamn Vinyl."
>Turning around to trudge upstairs you were intercepted by a water bottle to the face. The bottle was laughing at you the moment you caught it.
>Hold on, the pony down the hall was laughing at you from behind a familiar pair of shades.
>"Clock is ticking monkey dude. Remember what happened last time Octavia found out?"
>You grunt again and nod. A whole month of 6am practice sessions and nightly instrument tunings. Not even a single sweet thing from Sugarcube Corner.
>The horror.
"Yeah. Yeah. Get your damn shower. I'll take care of the rest."
>Flashing you a brief smile the DJ disappears behind the door. Unscrewing the cap you start to chug the water down while heading up the stairs.


>You are Octavia Melody and you are pissed beyond rational thought.
>Absolutely livid is another way of putting it.
>You know those two had a party. You know it was another sudden window shattering throw down.
>How?
>Neighbors. All of them. Princess Twilight Sparkle even went so far as to demand a friendship letter explaining why the noise law went into effect.
>Because of Vinyl Scratch.
>You blame the goddamned monkey. Things were decent before he stumbled in and started being the muscle and support for your duo with Vinyl.
>Sure Vinyl was wild and you'd be lying to yourself if you didn't enjoy it as a break from the proper way of life you opted to lead.
>Except fucking Anonymous who exacerbated Vinyl's rambunctious side. Asshole.
>You bleed the colorful thoughts of revenge out of you with a long hard sigh, one hoof reaching up to lightly roll on your temple.
>The rage burns into a low simmer as you stand outside the door to your home. Well the three of you live here anyway.
>All in all Anonymous isn't so bad you eventually relent, his hands and fingers make restringing the celo a breeze and hefting it around is significantly easier. Repairs on Vinyl's DJ station also go by a lot quicker with the extra help.
>There's no point in bothering to knock as the door is shouldered aside and you stomp inside, your voice already rising to shout the usual abuse at your two party addicts.
>"You two had a fucking party agai-...", the words die in your throat as surprise swamps all the logic your eyes try tell you.
>The house is clean. Spotless.
>What the fuck. Something is up.
>Anonymous isn't passed out on the couch nor is Vinyl equally dead to the world on some part of him.
>It doesn't even smell like candy in here anymore.
>A thin smile spreads across your face. You won't be fooled that easily.
>"Vinyl! Anonymous! I'm home!", you shout while still standing in the suspiciously clean living room.


>You heard the shout from upstairs and that meant you are Anonymous again, the damned monkey from another world.
>Even with everything put away and all of last night swirling down a drain somewhere Octavia's voice still made your blood turn momentarily cold.
>You've seen her angry before, thought it was nothing. It was hilarious to watch other ponies melt before her wrath.
>Then she got furious at you. Hell hath no fury like a cellist scorned.
>Hand washing her bow tie collection, lugging her prized cello by foot to and from Canterlot. The list goes on.
>She was the voice of reason though, you couldn't fault her for it. You and the DJ would of been at the end of a path of self destruction if left to your own devices.
>So it was only with a little trepidation you started down the hallway to the stairs and eventually towards the living room. Earlier you opted to dress into something comfortable, a simple pair of pants and unremarkable shirt. No sense in getting verbally rung through a meat grinder in stiff clothing.
>You didn't have a true room, just a hall closet to store your assorted clothing. Vinyl had one but the door was closed and she never bothered to lock it. Considering you had yet to see her again after the shower she was probably in there now frantically cleaning up. Or passed out again. Who knew.
>Octavia's room was by the stairs, secured by a thick wooden door and equally big lock. It only took one time for her things to end up scattered around the house after Pinkie Pie wanted a 'practice party' for someponies birthday.
>It had been Octavia's birthday and the practice turned into the real deal. You had to admire the energetic pink pony. She never knew when to stop. Probably didn't even know what the word meant.
>Rounding the corner at the bottom of the stairs you sweep all the memories from your mind and briefly consider praying to Celestia, Luna or fuck even Discord to get you out of this alive.
>Too late. Show time.
>Plastering the best 'Discord you owe me' smile on your lips wasn't the best idea you reflect.
>Octavia eyed you from the couch sporting a very familiar thin smile.
>Shit.
>Stumbling over your words wasn't a thing you did often but when faced down with that look...
>Double shit.
>Awkwardly you scratch the back of your neck and wrack your brain for something to say. It was then the thought struck you that why does everyone always scratch their goddamned necks when in these situations.
>Say something! Anything! QUICKLY!
"Err welcome back Octy! How was the symphony this weekend?"
>Smooth. You might come out of this one alive.
>The earth pony's expression never changes but you swear amusement danced behind her violet eyes.
>Eventually after letting the silence between you stretch on she deigns to speak, that thin smile cemented to her lips."Oh thank you Anonymous. It was lovely as always. Did you know I received a letter from the Princess when I arrived back here in Ponyville?"
>You swallow involuntarily, a letter from any princess is never a good thing. At least when concerned with you. Better get this over with.
"Really? What did Purple Sm-er Twilight Sparkle write to you about?"
>Hopefully it was just a mindless little letter blathering on about friendship.
>Her voice cuts through your mental sarcasm as sharp as any knife. "Anonymous, she wants me to write her a ten page letter explaining why the noise laws exist here in Ponyville."
>Your expression blanches abruptly. This is not helped by the way the fires of enjoyment flickered behind those violet eyes that pierced you so.
>She knew. She probably knew before the last party goer left last night.
>Triple shit.
>Dropping the faint hope of hiding it you shrug your shoulders slowly and sit down at the other end of the couch.
>A glance at Octavia confirms your worst fears and you opt to voice them.
"So we're in deep shit then right? Really really deep?"
>Finally that thin smile cracked and shattered into peals of laughter as the earth pony lost her battle with the anger simmering within her, letting it be replaced with what looked like joy. Joy at the suffering of another. Specifically You.
>A hoof came up and pressed itself to her nose as she continued to chortle. You had to admit she did have a lovely voice.
>Shame she often used it to yell at you.
>"Ohh my Anonymous! No my dear, not even Celestia herself could help you out of this hole." came the reply you really did not want to hear.
>Octavia was smiling now though, a real honest smile so there is that.
>While you were distracted by her smile she scooted closer to you, patting one of your cheeks with a hoof affectionately.
"So I'll be writing that let-"
>You start before a pair of soft brown lips press themselves to your own. As far as silencing you goes this is one of the more effective ways.
>Hesitating at first you press more into the kiss once it's apparent there is no trick following it. Vinyl was significantly more devious when doing this.
>You've had enough strange things forced into your mouth from the white unicorn thank you very much.
>With no small amount of reluctance the pony cellist withdraws her mouth from yours, eyeing you carefully as she spoke. "You are not out of the hole yet so to speak. You can write the letter tomorrow after our six AM practice session and when you tune all of the instruments to my specification."
>A soft sigh drifted from her while she made herself comfortable against you, nuzzling her head against your chest.
>Almost automatically you reached up with a free hand to lightly stroke her dark grey mane, threading your fingers through it just how she liked.
>Several strokes later her eyes lidded over lazily as a contended smile crept across her features. After still more Octavia managed to find her her voice again, "But that is all for tomorrow. I missed you both so today I am happy with this being all we do."
>Thus the judgement was passed on your crimes. Ten thousand strokes until your hand cramps to uselessness or Octavia gets up.
>You have yet to figure out the earth pony and her capriciousness towards you. One day it would be sunshine and butterflies and the next she would threaten to buck you right out the door.
>With it closed. This has happened before.
>You had brought up the cellist's behavior many times with Vinyl but the answer was always the same.
>The white unicorn merely snickered at you and lifted up her blue shades while speaking, "Think about it dude. Use that monkey brain."
>Right. Always a fount of wisdom that Vinyl Scratch
>Your inner dialogue was interrupted by a familiar white weight settling itself to your left shoulder, draped out over the couch armrest.
>The DJ has arrived. Praise be the wubs.
>Vinyl took a long drag from the glass held in her magic grip before passing it to you wordlessly.
>Well floated it in front of your face anyway.
>As you snatched it out of the air the white pony whispered into your ear, "Did Tavi buy it?"
>You shake your head slowly as you drain the remaining contents of the glass.
>It tasted like water. You hope it was just that.
>Discord must of noticed you because it was at that moment Octavia deigned to speak again, "No I did not BUY it."
>Naturally those violet eyes snapped open coming around to bore a pair of holes through your face and soul.
>Vinyl sat there grinning madly, clearly enjoying the second act of the show.
>Fuck, back to being angry.
>You need a manual for this pony goddammit.
>You offer the grey mare a sheepish smile while twirling the cup in your fingers. A thought strikes you hard on the second revolution.
>You and the DJ did play several of Octavia's solos during the blow out last night. They were well received.
>Of course they were laced with Vinyl's more expected style but nobody complained! Or you were too hammered that night to remember any.
>You opt to offer this information to the classically inclined pony, it couldn't hurt you figure.
"Well Vinyl did play some of your works last night too. Everyone loved it Octavia. I bet-"
>Again you are interrupted by two things, one being the loud chuckle of Vinyl herself and the other by the shifting of Octavia off the couch.
>Swing and a miss.
>Still giving you a wide glare out of the corner of her eyes the cellist pony starts to walk down the hallway towards the stairs.
>Octavia got the last word in too, "Right Anonymous, a horde of coked up rave-heads will be smashing down the record store doors to buy my version of Saddle Adler's sonata."
>You might need ointment for that burn.
>From farther down the hall her voice rings out again, "My things are outside in the cart. Bring them in please!"
>At your side Vinyl merely grins again, sitting up enough to let her head rest against yours. A red eye snares your gaze and the grin becomes infections.
>You can't resist mimicking the expression as the unicorn remarks, "I'd say that went pretty well."
>Godfuckingdammit Vinyl.
>You roll your eyes at the DJ's upbeat attitude. You wonder if its in her personality to be that way.
>Or if its the concoctions she makes for the pair of you to drink.
>Now you really hope that was just water you drank a few minutes ago.
>As if reading your mind the white pony speaks up with a smirk on her lips, "Chill the fuck out dude. It was just water. Do you want my help or can the hung over monkey haul in Tavi's stuff by himself?"
>That's it. Time to wipe that smirk off her face.
>Swiveling to face the reclining unicorn you throw her a wink.
"This monkey made you howl like a timber wolf smart ass."
>Vinyl started to respond until you interrupted her with the weight of your own lips against hers.
>You could play this game too dammit.
>Without missing a beat the DJ presses back against your mouth, forehooves wrapping snugly around your neck.
>And so could she.
>You deepen the kiss and Vinyl's tongue is waiting for yours, eagerly starting up the endless battle between the two of you.
>Reaching up you ran a hand through her neon blue mane before planting it on her back and pulling her against you.
>She let her weight linger against yours for a minute.
>Then the kiss was broken and her limbs untangled from around your neck. A bright beaming smile met your confused look.
>Two blinks later and the revelation hit you squarely.
"Work before pleasure. Right."
>Vinyl nodded once and you would swear her red eyes watched you hungrily from behind her trademark shades.
>At least the smirk had turned into a smile now as she spoke again. "Smile dude. You aren't sleeping alone tonight. Not after this morning."
>With that the lunatic mistress of wubs slid off the armrest and disappeared down the hallway.
>Never a dull moment in this house.
>Stepping outside you find exactly what you expected. A fucking mess.
>One fancy cart with matching hitches and such scattered around in the grass.
>Octavia's prized cello case is wedged in the cart amid a pair of regal saddlebags and one chipped looking box stuffed full of records.
>Gee I wonder who that's for.
>You might as well empty the thing before wheeling it back to the side of the house.
>First thing to go is the box of records yet as soon as you take two steps back into the house the whole thing is levitated out of your grasp.
>By now you'd expect this to not be so startling when it happens.
>You'd be wrong, it is still mildly alarming every time Vinyl swipes something from you without using her hooves.
>They use this magic shit too liberally. You want some damn warning!
>Grinning madly at her new stash of music, the white unicorn drops the bounty to the side of her mixing station and jacks in with her favorite headphones.
>You gave up trying to figure out how they worked without electricity. Fucking magic.
>However you did catch the raspberry Vinyl blew at you as you stepped back outside.
>The gesture was returned on your second trip with the saddle bags. You two were fucking made for each other.
>Everyone else is learning about friendship, magic and adventures but then there's you two.
>Fucking around, fucking and general fuckery. Hell the other ponies were glad Vinyl found someone that could keep up with her.
>Purple Smart herself even wrote you a fancy letter explaining her gratitude about not having to replace windows on a weekly basis.
>It was up to every two weeks now. A marked improvement the alicorn insisted.
>The glass makers were less than pleased but fuck them.
>Leaving the DJ to her work you start down the hallway and up the stairs to the second floor, knocking sharply on Octavia's door.
>This could get really awkward fast.
>Octavia was another matter entirely. You were no closer to understanding her now then earlier when you first met the musical duo.
>Most days you got the cold shoulder or that thin smile from earlier. Others got you a peck on the lips.
>Rarely, when the regal looking pony decided to drink wine you got more.
>That's how you learned about how she liked her mane brushed and petted.
>Half a bottle gone and suddenly you were her best friend. Vinyl was in her own musical world that night.
>The two of you had bemoaned your existences together in the way only two drunks can. You for finding yourself in a world of technicolor weirdos.
>Her for living life as she had been taught, prim, proper and refined. Every stallion thinking she was out of their league was her biggest complaint.
>Liquid courage had given her the resolve to ask for you to run your fingers through her grey mane. The same had also robbed you of the ability to say no to that request.
>You wouldn't of anyway. It nearly broke your heart to see Octavia like that.
>So you had sat there on the couch that night with an earth pony in your lap and a unicorn spazzing out to music on the floor.
>All you can recall beyond that was cramps in both of your hands and waking up to a white silk bow tie wrapped around your right wrist.
>Oh and Vinyl snoring in your lap, soaking your shirt with drool.
>Since then try as you might, you never really could get angry at the cellist. You just felt...
>Sad. Really sad for her.
>Vinyl cared but it was in Vinyl's own way. The DJ would try to bring home two or so stallions and pawn one off on Octavia.
>It never worked. The regal mare didn't want a tawdry night of fucking. Or the white unicorn decided to keep them both.
>That was all before you crashed into their lives though and put all the other males to shame.
>Go team monkey.
>Unfortunately while you were drifting down memory lane with a far away look in your eyes the door had opened.
>The mare was staring at you.
>Shit.
>"Anonymous," Octavia went on "You have my saddle bags yes?" Somehow she made it sound more like a statement and less of a question.
>You start to hand them to her before the whole lack of hands problem manifests itself in your brain.
>Fuck that really had better been water! Normally you are not so...
>Retarded.
>Now sufficiently feeling like the biggest asshole in Equestria at the moment you quietly follow the brown mare into her room.
"Sorry Octy. Old habits. Where do you want them?"
>The brown mare motioned towards the writing desk that dominated a larger corner of the space.
>A seemingly endless number of papers were stacked in neat piles here and there, most bearing musical bars and hastily scribbled notes.
>Everything else about the space spoke of the same genteel refined taste you expected from the cellist.
>Aged wood furniture with a dark stain, stiff pillows covered in baroque designs and a massive vanity mirror.
>You place both of the bags on the floor next to the desk as Octavia settles back into the chair.
>Already her attention has left you completely, focusing on the rippling sway of musical notes dotted along the paper in front of her.
>A ink pot and quill were in easy mouth reach above it.
>While turning to leave she calls back to you, violet eyes twisting around to watch you leave.
>"Bring my cello up here as well please. I need to pra-" Her words are lost in a house shaking rumble.
>Vinyl Scratch.
>It was your turn to sigh again, finishing the thought.
"And tell Vinyl to turn it down from 11. Got it."
>She had turned around but you caught the smile that ghosted across her features.
>Retreating from her private space you close the door behind you as another vibration rattles through the pictures along the walls.
>Most are of ponies you don't know. Some are of the musical pair and a select few are of you.
>One falls and shatters to pieces on the hardwood floor. Fuck. You liked that one.
"Goddammit Vinyl!"
>Downstairs the scene is best described as controlled chaos. Shit was everywhere in a localized area.
>That chipped box had been flipped on its top serving as an impromptu seat while the white unicorn rotated several records around her in the air.
>Every few seconds another shuddering boom wracked the wooden bones of the house.
>Vinyl was trying to find something to follow the base drop you assumed.
>You could SEE the headphones on her head vibrating from across the living room.
>Crossing the remaining distance you found it physically painful to stand so close to the wubstation and it's supercharged audio equipment.
>You reach out to twist a nondescript knob near the top of the dizzying array of switches and buttons.
>Vinyl smacked your hand away with a hoof.
>Gonna be like that is it?
>A smile twists itself onto her face, the red of her eyes glinting as she looks up at you above the rims of her signature shades.
>Yep. Gonna be like that.
>Steeling yourself against the aural assault you reach with the same hand but not towards the knob.
>Placing a few fingers under the pony's chin you tilt her head up just enough for a kiss.
>One of the best ways to distract her was with a kiss, specifically one from you.
>She knew it as well.
>Fuck you think she planned shit like this.
>While the DJ was sufficiently distracted by your tongues impromptu game of tag you reach out and twist the knob from before.
>With a loud hum the mixing station powers down, replacing the noise with a sharp ringing in your ears.
>Breaking off the kiss Vinyl returns a smile to her face while her red eyes never leave yours, "Wassaup monkey?"
>You shake your head and pull your fingers away after lightly booping the pony on her nose.
"Monday remember?"
>The white unicorn nods and starts to file away her records back into their sleeves. "Oh yeah! Sorry dude, kinda forgot when you gave me that box of music. Tell Tavi I won't wake the dead. Promise."
>Shit you three are a dysfunctional lot.
>Back outside nothing much had changed except for several peculiar stares from your neighbors.
>Kinda hard to not notice an entire house shaking.
>You wave at them with a practiced expression, smiling politely while you rolled the cart to the side of the house.
>Some of them seem to want to ask you a question but you never give them the chance.
>Down that path lays more letter writing.
>Hefting the cello case on your shoulder you head back inside for the last time, pointedly ignoring Vinyl while she sorted records and whatever else a DJ does.
>You fix the stupid mixing station not actually use it.
>Upstairs you knock on Octavia's door again taking note that the broken picture was gone.
>Hmph. You really liked that one.
>Some reporter pony had snapped a picture of you crawling out of the crater that heralded your arrival into Equestria.
>And all the broken bones it brought along with it.
>Instead of the door opening a voice caught your attention from behind it, "Enter!"
>A twist of the handle and you were back into the Victorian elegance of the earth pony's room.
>Octavia still sat at her writing desk with several more sheets of paper marked by ink trails and writing.
>Slinging the weight of the cello case off your shoulder and onto the uncomfortably stiff bed you begin to crack open the container.
>Normally at symphonies and the like there would be a diamond dog or griffon to unbox instruments and set them up.
>Someone with hands specifically. Hooves aren't ideal for really delicate work.
>Here you opted to do that role. It was safer than letting Vinyl do it.
>Half of the time she would steal it away with a mumbled, "Tavi lemme borrow this for just a minute. I wanna see something!"
>Pulling the musical instrument out you started to screw on the balancing spike at the bottom.
>Violet eyes watched your hands work with mild interest, the regal mare waiting patiently as you set up the storage stand next to the vanity mirror.
>You had gotten quite good at assembling the entire contraption from scratch by now.
>Sometimes Octavia would insist you be the one to configure her place in the orchestra pit instead of whoever was on duty for it.
>Or on the main stage itself if it happened to be a solo performance. You didn't mind.
>Everyone would gawk at the standing ape for a bit until the cellist made them completely forget about you.
>She was good. No fuck that she was the best.
>Putting the finishing touches on the stand you carefully set the aged cello onto the holding socket and hang the bow within easy reach.
>It's almost like you knew what you were doing.
>Standing up from your finished work you turn around to close the carrying case and stow it away behind the door.
>By now Octavia had gotten on her hooves and tugged a music sheet stand out from underneath the bed.
>You set that up too with a brief clatter, watching as she pointed out a pair of music sheets for you to lay on the stands angled pane.
>Satisfied the cellist mare nudged her chair back to the writing desk and reared up on her hind legs, carefully wrapping her fore hooves around the cello's stem.
>A single huff of exertion and the earth pony rested her weight against it, balancing herself expertly as those violet eyes returned to watch you.
>Automatically you handed her the cello's bow and silently marveled at how Octavia managed to hold it without actual fingers.
>You'd seen it many times but it still struck a chord of wonder in you.
>Dragging the music stand in front of the mare you paused to listen as she began to play.
>You couldn't help but smile as the first low royal notes began to drift from her draws of the bow.
>She played with her eyes closed. It was beautiful.
>Without meaning to you found yourself staying to listen.
>Perhaps a third of the way into whatever piece she was practicing her eyes opened again, mild surprise registering as you were still there. "Yes Anonymous? Was there something else?"
>She was still playing albeit softer now so you could converse without raising your voices.
>You felt a flush of red on your cheeks as you stumbled for a good excuse.
"No...sorry Octy. I've never heard this piece before is all. It's beautiful. Absolutely beautiful."
>Once again a smile creased itself into being on the earth pony's lips. It wasn't the usual thin smile of patience either.
>It looked honest to gods genuine. Even her lavender eyes seemed to glint softly.
>Your ears momentarily complained as the heavenly sounds of her cello finally stopped.
>The cellist regarded you for moment before speaking, "Really? And here I believed you to have no sense of musical style."
>"If you would like, give me a few hours without interruption and I will play the whole piece for you later.", the grey mare continued on.
>You nodded at that offer, turning on your heel to leave the musician in peace.
"Deal. I'll take Vinyl into town with me. We'll be back before dinner."
>Pausing at the door you glance over your shoulder to see the pony softly playing again, her hooves working the strings and bow like a master of the craft.
>Her eyes were closed again but that smile from earlier was still there, as strong as ever.
>Shutting the door quietly behind, you paused and craned an ear to listen as the music picked up again.
>Whatever the whole thing was you were actually eager to hear it now in its entirety.
>It felt soulful, hard to describe in words but easy to understand in musical notes. Perhaps even a little sad.
>Downstairs you found Vinyl in the kitchen rooting around in the pantry with a small stack of foodstuffs in the air around her.
>Was she going to cook? Fuck better halt this one at the gate.
>You reach up to take one of the floating cans out of the air and place it back on the shelf.
>The pony glances up at you questioningly, the blue of her shades not quite hiding the glare of her red eyes.
"Wanna hit the record store in town? We can eat somewhere too."