The wagon creaked slightly as it made its way down the cobblestone street. It was of an older style, practically an entire era out of place. Barrel shaped, the heavy oaken planks bound tightly in tarnished brass banding. Two large window frames were carefully shuttered for travel on the ends of the barrel, a tarnished brass chimney pipe the only thing to pierce the upper curve of wood. At the rear of the wagon above the sturdy oaken door was a small, hoof-made sign, swaying with a slight squeak at the motion.

Nightsong’s Instruments

The ponderous creak of the wagon as it moved was accompanied by the slow, heavy hoof clops of the pony drawing it along. Keeping to a slow, plodding pace that nonetheless would eat up the miles over time. The pony was wrapped in a dark, equally road stained cloak, the deep hood enveloping all the the tip of a deep blue nose. Finally the wagon pony slowed their burden to a stop in front of one of the houses on the quiet street, The cloaked figure giving a deep, heartfelt sigh of relief as they tiredly shrugged the heavy yoke from their shoulders..

From the street, the home was a tall, skinny building, a typical town-home in a sizable hamlet. The outside was painted a mix of blue and white, though one window had a grey circle painted around it. Candle and firelight lit up the windows, giving it a warm, inviting air. From the middle of the home came a deep, repetitive bass, the glass itself buzzing with the beat. There was life in the old home; life and light that called to the tired young traveller.

The hood was tossed back, revealing the face of a young mare. Her short-trimmed coat was a royal blue, while her mane, also short, was pitch black and glossy with sweat. Slitted, violet eyes curiously peered at the home, before turning to stare at a piece of paper she pulled from her saddle-bags.

Looking for a room in Ponyville?

We’re looking for a roomie!

Has to like to party, and not mind late nights!

“Well I don’t think that’ll be a problem,” the batpony whispered to herself, giggling as she perked her fluffy tufted ears. She shrugged out of her cloak and quickly stowed it in her wagon, stretching her lanky body and rolling her bat-like wings. She didn’t like to cover up so much, but when one had to pass through a lot of the backwater Earth Pony towns, it was best not to look too different. Letting out a soft, nervous breath, she trotted up to the door, giving it a careful, though not too quiet, knock.

Things were fairly quiet- until a loud, abrasive voice rang out of the silence.

“YO! OCTI! I THINK SOMEPONY’S AT THE DOOR!”

“Yes, VINYL, I heard! And now, the rest of the town knows!”

“COOL!”

The second voice sighed in front of the thick oaken door for a split second before it opened quickly. The bright light of the inside was quickly blocked as an Earth Pony mare stepped out to see who might be on her doorstep. Nightsong could not help but marvel at her appearance, doing her best not to show it on her face. The mare was slim and sleek, her pelt shining in the lamplight and well-brushed, despite the time of day. She would have made a stunning unicorn, graceful and slender. To find such a form on an Earth Pony was surprising yet… exotic. Violet eyes, framed by a long, gorgeous mane the color of charcoal, widened in slight surprise to see a batpony… but didn’t narrow in suspicion, much to the other mare’s deep relief.

“Why, hello there, miss…”

“Nightsong, ma’am,” the mare replied quietly, giving a soft little smile as she tried hard not to reveal much of her fangs, “I-I am actually here in response to your flyer?”

Nightsong carefully held out the paper, fluttering her wings as the Earth Pony took it. Alright Nightsong, time to make a good impression!

“I-I have a craft, ma’am; I make musical instruments, mostly w-wood and wind, but I do w-work in brass. I have enough to cover f-first month's rent and a business permit, I-I-”

The Earth Pony had, however, quickly held up a hoof to stop her, softening the gesture with a smile.

“That’s all well and good, miss Nightsong, but I think this would be better talked about inside? And my name is Octavia, by the way.”

Nightsong perked, smile widening as Octavia stepped back to let her in. It took a lot to not scurry inside, but she instead trotted inside, giving a cursory glance around. The home was warm and inviting- it had a lived in feel, with a few plates by the kitchen sink, and something cooking in the oven. The living room was lit by a crackling fireplace, two loveseats settled in front, a cello case leaned beside one seat.

“You have a lovely home,” Nightsong said warmly, smiling over her shoulders.

“Thank you,” Octavia replied with a grateful smile, motioning for Nightsong to sit at their dinner table before turning towards the staircase, “ Vinyl! Come on down! We have somepony here asking about the flyer!”

“...which flyer? Because I distinctly remember the one about the roommate, or the special party we have been-”

“THE ROOMMATE FLYER!”

Nightsong lowered her ears at the embarrassed shout, peering curiously up at the stairs as the other roommate came bouncing down the steps. She was a unicorn mare, blue and white headphones settled over her ears. On the last step, she lightly jumped off, skid-twirling onto the wooden floors. Nightsong sucked in a shocked breath. ...no way. DJ Pon3 lived in Ponyville?!

Pon3 blinked curiously at Nightsong, grinning and holding out her hoof, “Well, you look pretty damn cool! Name’s Vinyl Scratch.”
Much like the mare Nightsong had seen in the flyers for her shows, the unicorn was pure white-coated, with almost radioactively blue, short bangs. Crimson eyes gazed at the batpony with a playful challenge and curiosity. A little stockier than her Earth Pony companion, she wasn’t nearly as well brushed or trimmed, with a little scruff around her jaws and chest. A punky mare. Punky but… very cute.

Easy Nightsong, down girl.

“Nightsong, miss Scratch,” she replied quietly, giving her a firm shake.

Vinyl whistled softly, flexing her hoof and grinning over at Octavia, “Oh, I like this one, Tavi.”

Octavia chuckled softly, settling down beside her roommate and looking the batpony over curiously. Nightsong, for her part, was trying hard not to squirm under the combined gazes.

“So, miss Nightsong,” Octavia began slowly, keeping her voice neutral, “You said you have a steady income?”

Here we go.

“As… steady as craftwork can be, miss,” she replied quietly, clearing her throat, “But I have always made a decent amount of bits, and have plenty of savings. I can pay the first month’s rent tonight, as I said.”

Vinyl grinned cheerfully, “Alright, that’s awesome, we-”

She squeaked and shot a look at Octavia, who stared deadpan right on back before turning back to Nightsong, “Ahem. We don’t have many rules here, just that we all work together to keep this house clean. Should there be any damage, we all chip in to fix it. We don’t mind alcohol, within reason, but no drugs, unless prescribed by a physician. Is that acceptable?”

Nightsong smiled and nodded firmly, glad to see both mares looking resolute at that. Batpony communities had a terrible problem with opium, something that Nightsong had thankfully stayed well away from.

“That seems very reasonable, yes,” she replied, nodding again.

Both Octavia and Vinyl exchanged looks, and it was Vinyl who stepped forward, staring firmly at Nightsong.

“One more thing. Octavia and I are… well, we’re gay. And members of the Herd Movement. Now, if that’s an issue-”

She blinked in surprise as Nightsong giggled up at her, reaching back to pull a little card out of her bags: it was a simple white paper card with the name and symbol of the Movement: a blue, white, and purple upraised hoof.

“I’m v-very homosexual, miss Scratch,” Nightsong replied softly, giving her a gentle smile, “And have been a member since I turned fourteen.”

Any tension left drained out of the two mares, and they beamed at her happily. Vinyl moved to hug Nightsong tight, giggling at her surprised squeak.

“Welcome to Ponyville, Nightsong!”

*******************

The following morning, Nightsong forced herself to wake up early and hurry outside, bringing the rest of her belongings out of the wagon and into her new room. It had been absolutely lovely to sleep in a real bed for once, and not her well-worn cot. Not that she didn’t love the only real home she had known in so many years, but Nightsong’s back had been absolutely killing her lately. Posters of the Lunar Court’s various new ministries and programs hung around the room: the Herd Movement was a new political party in Equestria, born out of the rebirth of old pegasi and Earth Pony cultural renaissances that had sprang to life after the return of Princess Luna. For ages, herds had been maligned and slowly forced out of Equestrian social structures by the more monogamous and patriarchal Unicorn Noble Council. But with Luna’s return, and her unique insights on ancient Equestrian social establishments, the Lunar Court had become firm allies of the Earth Pony Democratic Council movements, the Pegasi Tribunals, and the Batpony Clan Council; the Herd Movement was simply another movement that had gained much needed support and royal recognition.

Silks hung around her bed from the ceiling, catching the light and sparkling, and she had placed a crystal chandelier, a part of her inheritance, on the room’s main light, sending little prismatic glints all over the walls. Soundlessly gliding up and down from her bedroom’s window, Nightsong had most of her room re-decorated by the time her new roommates woke up and came to check up on her.

Vinyl gaped around in what Nightsong hoped was awe, while Octavia’s eyes focused on a half-finished violin on the bed, and the batpony quickly held up her hooves.

“I-I won’t be working in here, I swear! I just wanted the better light to make sure I got it all right, I d-did that one at night and-”

Octavia smiled warmly, “That wasn’t my worry at all, Nightsong,” she replied soothingly, “I was just marvelling at the craftsmanship.”

Nightsong blinked in surprise, relaxing slowly. Oh! Good!

“I-I have complete ones in the wagon,” she blurted out sheepishly, smiling a little as both mare’s perked up.

As they hurried downstairs, Nightsong glided back down, tugging some of her completed pieces out of the wagon. Those she hoped to set out for sale once she got her merchants’ permit from the City Hall. The wood for all of her instruments typically came from the region Nightsong was visiting, though she did pick up rarer sets when the opportunity presented itself. Her current pride and joy was a cello, built of maple and spruce, with a very thin but hard layer of ebony covering both front and back. The hoofboard and pegs were made of ebony, but a unicorn she had worked with in the past had been kind enough to enchant them to come across as bright white. The carved whitened inlay along the ebony body covering were Lunar script; a blessing on whomever bought the cello. That particular instrument had easily taken her an entire winter to craft, and sadly Nightsong was yet to find a buyer, despite it being close to the Running of the Leaves again.

And it was this piece that absolutely captivated Octavia when she hurried outside their home, violet eyes captured and pulled in by the dark beauty. While Vinyl was immediately taken in by a small, magic crystal-powered keyboard, Octavia carefully lifted the cello, with a permissive nod from Nightsong, running one hoof down it carefully. The woodwork was smooth, and she could not find a single obtrusive seam. The only flaw seemed to be…

“By Luna, this is good work…” Octavia whispered, not noticing Nightsong’s surprised look and blush, “But… no strings, Nightsong?”

The batpony winced slightly, glancing off to one side and rubbing the back of her head.

“N-no,” she admitted weakly, “My budget fell through; there was… trouble, in the last t-town, and I had to get moving…”

Octavia nodded slowly, frowning as she glanced over at Vinyl, who was watching her roommate with a knowing smile.

“Vinyl, please get my kit from the music room. You know the one.”

The unicorn chuckled and gave a cheeky salute before dashing off, past a surprised looking Nightsong.

“K-kit?” she mumbled weakly, tilting her head at the now-grinning mare.

Octavia cleared her throat, tail swishing a few times, “Nightsong… what kind of pricing did you have in mind for this cello?”

Calculations filled Nightsong’s head as she peered at the cello, biting her lip thoughtfully. The ebony had been one of her more expensive purchases, only taken at all because she had gotten a bulk deal. Lugging that heavy wood had not been fun, however. And along with the time that had gone into carving the script, getting her friend to do the enchantments…

“F-four hundred and fifty bits?” she replied after doing some mental math, blushing and desperately hoping Octavia would not be too upset with the high price.

Nightsong’s eyes widened at Octavia's dumb-struck look, the batpony gulping as she prepared to launch into a desperate explanation.

“N-nightsong,” Octavia stammered, rubbing her cheek, “I-is that the price range you’ve had? For awhile now?”

Ah crap…

“W-well, yes,” the shaken batpony replied weakly, “B-but… I have to keep the prices that high, t-to cover the building expenses, and-”

“High?! No, no, no… Nightsong, that’s far too low! I, and most artists really, would easily be willing to pay twice, to three times that price. I paid eight hundred bits alone for my current piece.”

Nightsong’s hind-legs gave out, and she sat heavily on her haunches, wings and ears drooping in sheer surprise. She had been undercharging… that much? For years?! A small groan came unbidden from her chest, only to be choked off as a warm foreleg was thrown over her shoulders.

“Hey, don’t sweat it!” Vinyl chirped, passing the small, hoof-carved box over to Octavia with her magic, “Now you know. What would you price that one as, Tavi? You’re a bigger expert than me with classical stuff.”

The two mares shared knowing looks, and Vinyl shot her a cheerful wink. Octavia gave a playful, exaggerated little hum as she looked the cello over. With well practiced hooves, she carefully unspooled her thin steel string, getting to work stringing the large instrument.

“Thirteen hundred, easily. This is a superior design, and the inlay and decoration is top-notch. I’ll run by the bank and retrieve a promissary note, Nightsong, and we can-” Nightsong lost the trail of the conversation, as she slumped to the side into darkness.

************************

“Yyyyyup, she’s out cold. Nice one Octi!”

Octavia gave a little groan, resisting the urge to facehoof. She did understand though. That was a lot of bits, and the poor thing had definitely been undercharging for quite awhile, she imagined. When she got back from the bank, and Nightsong woke up, they would need to have a chat.

“Let’s get her inside, just give me a moment.”

As Vinyl carefully lifted the unconscious batpony in her azure magical field, Octavia rushed to put away the other instruments they had taken out to look at, once again marvelling at the craftsmanship. She simply had to know where Nightsong learned her craft…
Lifting the cello gingerly onto her back, Octavia quickly moved after Vinyl as they slipped back inside. The Earth Pony was still in awe at the gentleness of Vinyl’s magic, and how well she could manipulate the world around her with it. Vinyl carefully settled Nightsong onto their soft fabric and down-stuffed couch, her magic shifting quickly to pull one of their hoof-made quilts over to drape over the comatose mare.

“I’ll go to the bank, Octi,” Vinyl whispered quietly, shooting her a gentle smile, “I know you want to try out that cello. ‘Sides, I need to get some stuff from the market.”

Octavia’s eyes softened at the care in the voice of her marefriend, leaning over to gently kiss her cheek.

“Thank you, Vinyl,” she replied, giving her a warm smile as she settled down by the fireplace, drawing the cello over.

The musician looked the lovingly made cello over once more as her lover bounced out of their home, then peered back at this new pony in their lives, sleeping on their couch. She gently took her bow from its case by the fireplace, smiling softly. Yeah… yeah, this was going to work out juuust fine.