"Who's what?" Olivia says.

"Octavia, from mlp forever ago!"

"Oh god, that was forever ago, wasn't it... So whatever is happened... So someone decided that i liked ponies too much a couple of years ago, and gave me a free cutiemark? This is still so bizarre..."

"You know you can get tattoos removed"

"That stuff is painful... I don't know how they managed this the first time."

"You wanna try seeing if its just some high end water tattoo?"

"Are you trying to say i need a shower?"

"Easy! I wasn't implying anything! Why are you getting so snappy?"

"Sorry... Its just this stuff... Who would be such a low-life to do this?"
I shrug, I haven't the foggiest clue on what's happened. I'm admittedly more curious about the eye color change than the tattoo. Olivia eventually gets back up, and paces into the bathroom, shower cranking on to follow. After a few minutes, she begins to sing... A melodic tune I find completely new to my ears... Was this a song the choir gave her to sing a part for solo?

I turn off the Tv, which now had just become nonsensical background noise, and get back on the computer. I open up ye olde google image search, and type in "octavia". Sure enough, the violet cutiemark of a treble clef was matching the one on Olivia's thigh. I pull up a face shot of her. The first thing I notice is Octavia's violet eyes. I chuckle, whoever was doing this, maybe they think her as earth's version of Octavia? Thats some crazy stalker shit. I think about it more... She's not really been the center of the show even for one song. I look at my cell phone, 3 missed calls 4 text messages, and a notification of voicemail messages. I look at the texts first;

Woops... I must have passed out at that point...

Thanks for what?

How late were they drinking?

Wait what? She's my fiance... Did I just get drunk girlfriend friendzoned? Eh... Nah can't be. How about that typo? 'Vinl' I chuckle, and stop half way into it.

"Vinl... Vinyl..." I say out loud, and then I recall her say that when I woke her up... Was she meaning...?

I type in "octavia and vinyl" into the google image search. Yep, low and behold, the brony fandom famed musician shipping of classical and modern pony musicians. Vinyl Scratch with her mythically red eyes, latched on to Octavia Melody, as if protecting her or defiantly hugging a teddy bear after declaring it "mine!"

My mind went wild creating theories... Mind control nano machines? No, thats dumb. Hypnosis? How does that give someone outwardly visual changes? Aliens? I sigh at the thought, sounding the most plausible of the theories.

My belly rumbles. I double check the time. The computer clock says about 10:00 am. Just in time for breakfast. Perhaps some pancakes, eggs, and bacon will cure this weirdness.

I begin preparing a breakfast of champions! Well, maybe if you don't mind slightly crunchy pancakes. The eggs turn out well, the bacon's pungent scent making my mouth water.

"What on earth is that DEATHLY smell?!" Olivia says, coming into the kitchen.

"Deathly? Thats the smell of freshly cooked bacon, from our fallen enemies!" I say, poking fun at Olivia.

"No, it literally smells like rot in here! Turn on a damn vent! How are you cooking and not wanting to vomit?!" I take a big draft of the bacon-flavored air. I shrug, and follow her request. The vent above the stove whirs to life. I prepare her plate and mine and lead her to the living room.

"What is wrong with these pancakes...?" She says, a bite of them partially chewed impeding speech.

"Don't like the added calcium?"

"Augh, this bacon smells rancid... I can't eat any of this!" She says irritatingly setting the mostly untouched plate of food on the coffee table.

"...I'm sorry babe, I was just-"

"Its quite alright... Probably this hangover wreaking havoc on my stomach..."

"So what do you want to do?"

"To be honest, I kinda want to be alone..."

"Are you sure? I mean what if your creepy stalker tattoo artist comes back?"

"My what- Oh... Great now thats on my mind again... Why don't you call your boss to see if you can just go in late, we can't afford you to call in sick." My insides suddenly twist.

"No no, I'm here for YOU today! Lets worry about worries later!" She looks at me with a dubious expression, but turns towards the window

"I'm going to do some recording... I need to keep in vocal-shape if I hope to get that solo part..."

"Are y-" I start, but interrupt myself. Mid thought so not to sound like a broken record.

"I've not worked since I was little to get lazy now." She gets up and enters the sound room, securing the door behind her. I let out a sigh, its getting to be a pain dodging these bullets. She's definitely acting a little strangely though.

I shut the door behind me, the satisfying click knowing that whatever I said in here was unlikely to be heard outside allowed me to sigh in relief. I feel as though I am becoming more and more frustrated with vincent. Though its nothing passed the normal. He can't cook, the kitchen was a disaster area, and his wit, while usually charming, seemed to poke a little deeper than normal. Maybe it was the alcohol? Its neering 11 hours since I recall starting to drink.

I move a stool around to a mic set on the desk, turned on the recording software on the laptop dedicated for such things. I ran through a number of the choir's previous songs. Something felt off about singing them. I glance about the room, sipping a bottle of water, and spot one of the instruments we managed to pick up cheaply, yet were still in good condition.

A trumpet, snare drum, and a cello. I stared at the ladder. I’d taken lessons on how to play it, but it had never lit the creative fire in me like singing. My mind wandered while I stared. It was in playable shape, but its previous owner had been... Cruel, to say the least. Mother wanted me to become some featured piece in an orchestra, but settled when I was accepted into the choir group.

I grab the cello and set up a previous recording to play while recording the cello's music.

I played... And played... I kept playing long after the echo of my voice in the recording silenced itself. A cord snaps, lashing at the bow of the cello. As if broken from a trance I look about. Stunned, I replace the cello in its spot, shut off the recording and examined the time... Nearly 4 pm. I look back at the sad cello, cord bouncing slightly. The sight of it made me feel depressed, like a friend left, and wouldn't be back for a long while.

I sigh, and go to the door. I begin to feel a little weak, as I open the door. I step through, and feel my leg gave out.

I look up in time to see olivia step, and begin to fall. She hits the carpeted floor about the same time I get to her side.

"Olivia?!"

"...Vin..yl..."

"Olivia, are you alright...?"

"I... I think I just need some rest..." She says, starting to get back up. I help her up carefully, and get her to the bed. The second she hits the pillow she's out like a light. I look her over, worried. She barely had breakfast... Given the bit she had may as well had been littered with eggshell. She was in the soundroom through lunch, and it was nearing dinner time. So maybe it was just a lack of food to blame for this? God I'm a piece of work, to let the girl they want to marry get this way...

I admit defeat, and allow her the entirety of the bed. I consign myself to the couch, where I let mindless netflix movies carry myself also into an early sleep.

I am on stage, singing, and playing the cello, bow clutched in a hoof, an art form only a few dedicated to playing have learned, let alone mastered.

I scan the crowds, Vinyl is missing, still. Figures. This has become synonymous with her that she'd be too 'busy' to show support during these silly events. Work before friends, right?

Tears build on my eyelids. The song ends, and a light opens from the back, somepony coming in during the small break. My heart jumps for a minute, then the curtains drop-

"What I-" I say, turning to the side stage.

An evil chuckle comes from all around it seems.

"Pardon, I need the stage." Its words roll off its tongue like venom.

"Excuse me, but you're interrupting my performance! Leave NOW!"

"A performance? For who? Your friend that never showed up? Hahaha" his chuckle was like salt in the already gaping wound.

"You have no rights to be up here!"

"Face it Octy, your DJ found something or someone better."

"Shut up, you don’t know what you’re talking about."

"Let me just do you a favor then? Its a little ditty that I've been playing to death lately! It goes something like this..."

Author's Notes:

So here's chapter 2! Let me know if you catch anything wrong or messed up grammatically.
Made this chapter short because of it feeling a little dry for me. So yeah, OPINIONS PLOX.