Vinyl & Octavia: University Days

Chapter 8

Being in such an unusual predicament so far outside her comfort zone, it would have been expected for a pony such as Octavia to react with stammering exclamations and embarrassed chuckles. But if the sleepy brain was one thing, it was relaxed. When she awoke in an unfamiliar feeling bed, she simply yawned and tried to return to sleep. This pony's hours were up though, and the longer she kept her eyes shut, the more they wanted to open. Her senses returned slowly, emerging from the deep, warm depths of sleep. Hearing, the sound of a busy city, tasting, a few stray hairs that made her scrunch her nose in disgust, smelling, sweat and spice and alcohol, touching, a large heat-pillow, seeing...

The white unicorn sleeping right next to her.

Octavia would remember the moment as being akin to seeing a spider skitter across the floor, complete with the impulse to jump back and scream and so forth, but the truth was a lot less terrifying.

"Oh dear," she mumbled.

Vinyl's glasses were askew, revealing her closed eyes for the second time in recent memory.

Memory...

The events of last night came rushing back, bringing the cellist completely out of her sleepy daze.

Upon glancing at the unicorn with clear eyes, she couldn't help but giggle at her friends dishevelled state. Sitting up, she reached out a hoof and tentatively brushed some of the DJ's unruly blue mane out of her face. From a completely objective standpoint, Vinyl was really quite pretty.

In a moment of bravery, Octavia plucked the purple shades from the end of the white pony's nose, leaving her face bare. Breathing softly, Vinyl projected an air of openness that the cellist had not been privy to before.

This was her.

Just her.

In her own home, completely unguarded, with no acts or personas, no purple-tinted shades to hide behind.

Vinyl Scratch.

Octavia's breath hitched at the sight. If only she could draw, if only she could capture the image forever and ever. But part of her knew that to record such a moment would be to strip away everything that made it unique. Instead, the cellist did the next best thing: embrace it. She let the rush of emotions flow over her body and through the air around them. This was their moment, one that could never be taken from them or replaced. A single, defining, experience that-

Ring ring.

"Oh for the love of-" hissed Octavia, ripping her phone out from the pouch still strapped to her hips.

Click.

"Can't I have just one moment of artistic reflection? Who is this? What do you want?"

"Is that how the university is teaching you to speak to your mother?"

Her face dropped and she quickly climbed over Vinyl and onto the floor. Remarkably, the DJ didn't even stir. "M-mother? Uh, no, mother, I'm sorry. H-how are you?" Searching desperately, she scrambled about for her bowtie before remembering it was back in her dorm. Being completely unclothed and messy made her feel about as unprepared for a chat with her mother as possible.

"Spare me the inane pleasantries, Octavia. I think we both know why I'm calling." The voice on the other end sounded just as stern and commanding as she remembered.

The cellist spared a glance for her sleeping friend, but there was no other option. This phone call would turn ugly if Vinyl woke up halfway through. "I-I'm afraid I don't know why. Is something wrong?"

"Something is indeed wrong. I spoke to a friend of mine who works at the university. He's a groundskeeper, a stout old chap."

Slipping out the door and closing it softly behind her, Octavia quickly descended the stairs. "Well he certainly sounds very interesting, mother, but what does he have to do with me?"