The DJ and The Cellist

Chapter Five

***

"Come on, Tavi, you're doing it wrong."

Octavia huffed indignantly, eyeing the offending contraption sternly. Never in her life would she have thought that working the turntables was so hard. So many different knobs and buttons, so many frequencies she hadn't even known about... Damn, I'm a cellist, not a sound technician! "So, what exactly am I doing wrong this time, Vinyl?" the cellist enquired, not without irritation.

To her surprise, Vinyl placed her hand on top of her, Octavia's, hand, laying her chin on her shoulder. "Tavi, relax, babe," she whispered in a voice that made the raven-haired woman melt. "Just hold the cross-fader gently, like you hold your cello stick. Now, you're holding it like a dick."

Octavia blushed fiercely. "I... Sorry. I never held any... um, well..."

"Oh?" Vinyl purred hotly into the cellist's ear. "Is that an encouragement for me to add some dildo-play to our sexy times?"

"Vinyl!" Octavia's face was completely flushed with pink by that point. "What I mean is, I never held a crossfader!" Yes, Octavia. You obviously meant just that.

"Tavi." Vinyl rubbed her eyes with a thumb and an index finger. "If we want to win, we really need to ace it. Let's try again."

"Win?" Octavia wondered, withdrawing from the instrument - if the turntables could be called an instrument. Now Octavia was sure it was an instrument. 'They'. Turntables. Plural. "As far as I know, Canterlot's Finest isn't a competition. It's just a huge garden party with numerous outdoor sets. It's not even held in a concert hall."

"Exactly." Octavia blinked in lack of understanding at the DJ's claim. "That's it, Tavi. Don't you get it? There's no concert hall. There's a lot of fancy people - all around the place. We will all be competing - for their attention. We'll have to make sure our set stands out and draws the most attention." Vinyl lifted her brow. "More attention - more possible contracts. That's the competition. That's how this business works - didn't you know?"

"I didn't." Octavia lowered her eyes. "Freddie has always done all the negotiations for us. ...Had done," she amended sourly.

Vinyl placed her hand on the cellist's shoulder comfortingly. "Listen, Tavi. If you want to return to your band-"

"Ensemble," the cellist corrected her fri- girlfriend automatically. "It's called an ensemble. And no, I don't want to return. I want to stay with you." Do I? Octavia gifted her DJ with a soft, sad smile. "Let's try again."

Vinyl frowned. She could clearly see Octavia's dismay. Moreover, she - as a professional - could see that it would take months before the cellist had fully got acquainted with the instrument. And they did not have so much time. But who said she should be spinning records? Vinyl smiled. "Tavi, I have a better idea. Grab your cello."

Octavia did not need to be told twice.

***

"So, basically, you want me to play the cello while you lay down the beat, and this is why we are going to compose a classical/electronic suite to perform it at Canterlot's Finest."

Vinyl nodded as she set up a number of microphones about Octavia's cello, which the raven-haired woman was holding firmly in her hands, sitting on a spartan stool instead of the chair Vinyl had offered her. She'd got used to simple accomodation for playing the cello. It made the performance so much better. Or, at least so it seemed to her. Hell, sometimes she'd even play while standing! ...Only at home, of course: that woud simply ruin any performance.

"Okay." Vinyl straightened herself and moved on to the shiny Mac that Octavia was not allowed to touch. Not that she wanted to, of course. Okay, maybe a little. A lot. "Now..." The DJ worked the mouse for a  few seconds. "Give me an A."

Oh, you know how notes are called? Octavia thought, but decided not to voice her exhausted inner irritation, instead drawing the bow across the strings, the cello wailing a perfect A. Always in tune. Octavia smiled proudly.

Vinyl, however, did not seem to find it perfect. The DJ frowned, pressing a few keys. "Up an octave."

Octavia obeyed, her bow producing a finest sound.

Vinyl, however, only winced. "Very low on high frequencies. That A was barely worth a D." Heeey, double pun! Still, the DJ was not in the mood for puns. Instead, her mind was already working on different possibilities. "Don't you have an electric cello or something?"

"Vinyl!" Octavia blushed slightly. "Why would I own a piece of music mockery, a flagrant substitute for a real instrument?"

Vinyl shrugged. "I dunno. Maybe because it's convenient and allows you to explore the sounds you could only dream of?" Octavia averted her eyes shyly. "Come on, Tavi, let's buy you one. I'm not talking top-notch state-of-the-art electric cello, but-"

"Don't." Octavia lifted her head, looking into her DJ's eyes firmly. "I already have one," she explained after a pause, signs of embarrassment evident on her face. "It's in the practice room in the conservatoire we... I used to practice." Now, of course, she would have to find another place to practice, given that Frederic would barely allow her to... Ah, dammit! Freddie is my friend. He... He can't really be that grumpy all the time. If 'grumpy' is the word I want. Could he?

"And why exactly haven't you ever brought it home?" Vinyl wondered, suppressing a grin. I knew it! I knew Tavi had some tech love in her! "You always bring your cellos home, even your cello sticks."

"Bows, Vinyl," the cellist corrected with a grunt. "A 'cello stick' is called a bow. And..." The woman blushed slightly. "I was afraid you'd make fun of me."

"Why break the news now?" Vinyl neared her cellist, standing as close as possible, her fingers brushing Octavia's thighs. "Why aren't you afraid I'll make fun of you now?"

Octavia closed her eyes. You know the answer, Vinyl. She practically jumped at the DJ, almost knocking her precious cello. She didn't care, though: it was only Vinyl that mattered now. And, as she pounced her DJ and pinned the surprised woman to the couch, she whispered in her ear hotly:

"Because I love you, you idiot."

***

"So, is this the room?"

Octavia nodded, casting a look about the small, cramped room. Instruments were lying everywhere - brass, guitars, strings, cymbals, drums, reed. The room had enough space to host it all - but not enough to move freely. So, Octavia had some difficulty squeezing through the little space there was, chiming towards the cello case with a lavender treble clef sign on top. Her case.

"Say, Tavi," Vinyl called out from the doorway. "Don't you think it's kinda risky to leave your instrument in a place that can be visited by anyone with a key?"

Grabbing the case, Octavia let out a belaboured huff. She still had a long way back through the musical debris. With a cello case, no less. How did I even manage to stuff it so far? "Vinyl, we're all fellow musicians here. What are the chances that someone might- put that down, now!" she shrieked as the DJ grabbed an accordion, eyeing it curiously.

"What?" Vinyl dropped the instrument to the ground with a confused shrug. Octavia's eyes widened. "I just wanted to take a look. It's not like I was going to take it, for good." Probably.

The cellist groaned. "Let's go, Vinyl." Mentally, she added, Before you break something. Or steal something. Octavia wasn't sure what she had to fear most. In Vinyl's book, taking something she liked and leaving a huge sum of money in its place counted as a fair exchange, not theft. Even without the owner present to give their consent.

As the two women made their way trough the corridor, sounds of music reached their ears, coming from the chamber hall where Octavia's ensemble used to practice. And there was no doubt: it was her ensemble. Not just because she knew Frederic rented the hall. She could decipher Harpo's sombre tone in the lyre part, and Beauty's tuba sound was unique enough to make it out from a million other sounds, and Frederic's piano skill was, as always, top-notch. The best of the best. Octavia winced. Freddie. "I... That's my quartet," she said weakly, halting to a stop before the door. Octavia glanced at Vinyl weakly. "I... That's my ensemble."

Vinyl didn't say anything. She just stared at the door. If I meet that Freddie bastard, I'll punch him in the face. He had to have some respect for her Octavia! But... wasn't that overprotectiveness? Wasn't such an action doomed to bring about irrefutable consequences?

Octavia winced. Apparently, Vinyl wasn't about to say anything - even though she, Octavia, craved for her to say something, anything at all! Maybe she just... doesn't care? "I'm going to take a look and say hi," she said finally, gathering up the resolve. If Vinyl loves me, she'll say something, she'll stop me, maybe... She'll go with me?

Vinyl nodded. Please, Octavia. Tavi, don't go. I don't want you there. "Sure. Go ahead, I'll be waiting for you."

Octavia gulped and put her hand on the handle, her mind blanking as she tried to come up with something to say. And then, suddenly, she heard the violin. It... It can't be. There could be no mistake. It was her violin. The soft, yet piecing sound, the howls of sorrow that she never knew, and the wails of such artificial elegance that only a heart, not an ear, could distinguish its fault.

And yet, the cellist could not stop herself as she pressed her weight against the handle and opened the door. Inside, the quartet was performing. Or, rather, had been performing: the music ceased in the wake of Octavia's sudden appearance. Harpo was sitting in the corner of the stage, a lyre on his knees. Beauty's tuba was pressed against her lips firmly. Frederic was sitting at the piano, looking at Octavia indifferently. And, next to him, was sitting a violinist, an exact copy of Octavia: same facial features, same complexion, same hair, even the haricut - it was the same too. All but the eyes. These eyes weren't lavender. They were a bright, striking orange. Almost red. Almost Vinyl's eyes.

The violinist raised her head with a smile. "Hello, sister."

Vinyl gulped in astonishment while Octavia just stood in place, unable to comprehend the situation. "Fiona, what are you doing here?" the cellist demanded - and yet, her voice faded by the end of the sentence, rendering the question weak and pathetic.  

"She's part of the quartet now," Frederic replied for her. "Now, darling, let's do it from the top, okay?"

"Darling?!" Octavia shrieked, taking a step forth. "What?"

Fiona fluttered her eyelashes at her sister before leaning in and giving the pianist a kiss on the cheek. "Jealous much?" She smiled what seemed to Octavia the most cruel smile in the world. "Freddie and I are dating."