The wind was blowing through the branches of a dead maple tree, shaking the sign of the “Storm Diner”, projecting its shadow on a few late patrons, finishing their coffee and listening to some of the most popular 60’s tubes on the jukebox.

The wind was blowing on the roof of a light grey RV parked a few yards behind the diner. A small table, covered in beer cans and cigarette stubs, was set under a purple awning, and light was beaming out of the windows, despite the absolute silence filling up the place. A large; black-and-grey dog was chewing on a bone, occasionally barking at the rare cars driving by.

“Grubber! Get the fuck back inside, it’s gonna rain soon, and I don’t need your wet face all over my stuff!”

Finally, the wind was blowing on the RV’s owner’s purple hair, arranged as a mohawk, which had seemingly not been washed for a few days. Her dark purple skin and equally dark clothes made her almost invisible in the night, but her shining green eyes pierced the shadows like two colored flames. As the dog climbed the three steps and came inside, shaking his tail and heading for the passenger seat -his seat, really-, his owner sat on the bench seat and grabbed her laptop, covered in stickers for different brands of cars, cigarettes and sport gear.

The inside of the RV was, to say the least, messy. The wallpaper was partially teared down, a pile of dirty dishes was sitting in the sink, and the floor was covered in papers, cans and teared down wallpaper. It was horrid. But it was home. A document appeared on screen, listing dozens of codenames, addresses, and amounts of money. Big amounts, in some cases. Her job was a messy one, but it didn’t have to be an unorganized one.

“Alright, what’s the amount again…”

Page twelve, line five… Her eyes looked through a few codenames: “Phoenix”, “D.D”, “Brutter”... before stopping on the one she was looking for. “Chaos”.

“Jeez Discord. One hundred grams? That’s something. Whaddya even need this for?” she mumbled, sipping beer from a measuring glass.

Getting the right stuff had been a pain. If it weren’t for this guy, she would have given up already. But she couldn’t say no to him. Not after everything he had done for her. She might be a dealer, but she had a sense of honor. And Discord had earned her respect. Furthermore, she had gotten the package in the end, so no harm done. It was even easier than anticipated.
She got up, leaving her computer on the seat, grabbed a box of dog treats from a shelf, and filled Grubber’s bowl. The sound of food against metal instantly woke up the rottweiler, who ran to his owner, devouring the food while she was petting him. With her remaining hand, she reached for a small bag on the counter.

“What the fuck do you need that for, old man…”

The bag contained an airtight pouch, filled with about one hundred grams of small blue crystals. A black label on the side indicated:

“Storm King”

“Heeeeyyyy, there you are! Tavi, are you stealing Vinyl from me?”

“Oh Lyra, you’re here! Oh, uhm… What? No, never, I… I’m sorry, what?”

“Haha, I’m just messing with you, girl! I understand you running away from the garage though. If I wanted my ears shattered, I’d just put my head inside a bongo drum.”

Octavia blushed. She wasn’t used to her friend’s blunt attitude quite yet, but things were starting to get slightly better: they had been here for a little less than an hour now, and after hearing over and over some of these expressions she didn’t know, she had started to guess the meanings of several of them. She felt quite ridiculous, not knowing the sense of all these things which were basic for so many people, but it was… more gratifying than she thought, understanding the people around her. Not that she would ever use this language, but it was certainly a start.

“Hey!” said Bon-Bon, cheerfully, a glass of cider in one hand, arriving behind Lyra’s back and putting a hand around her neck, “What have you girls been up to?!”

“Oh, well, Vinyl and I were practicing some basic lessons of sign language. I’m trying my best to remember all the basic verbs and adjectives.”

Vinyl smiled. For the last twenty minutes or so, they had both been sitting on the couch, face to face, practicing. The DJ’s cheeks were still painful: she had smiled and laughed so much, watching her friend learn, try, and get confused by the similarities in this whole new form of expression. Not only was she happy, but also proud, and moved. Octavia, the most homebody and reserved person she had ever met, was going out of her way to learn about something which would not benefit her in any way, except being able to talk to a friend.

“I mean, she’s already pretty out of her element here.”

Perhaps Octavia was less shy and clueless than she thought after all.

“Hey, Octavia, come dance!”

Alright, maybe not that much.

“I’m sorry?”

“Yeah!” Bon-Bon continued, “Come on, now that you’re starting to enjoy the evening, it’d be crazy not to try that out! I can teach you some moves if you want!”

Vinyl looked closely at her pianist friend for a few seconds, staring at her like a turtle trying to win a contest of who’s-gonna-yawn-first, then picked up her pen and paper from the table and shoved it in her face after writing a few words:

Dude, are you drunk?

“A little bit.” The girl answered, smiling at the DJ.

“Same.” Lyra added, with even crazier eyes than usual. “Crazy what you can find in those duffel bags.”

Vinyl facepalmed so hard the sound of her hand against her forehead shook the (pink) frames on the walls. Way to show Octavia a good time. Hopefully these two weren’t going to do anything stupid. Alright, maybe something stupid would be fun. Hell, embarrassing Octavia could be kind of fun sometimes. Just not dangerous.

“Hey Lyra, I’m gonna dab!”

“Oh fuck.”

“NonoNONONONONO”

The lyrist jumped on her friend to prevent her from crossing a line one should never cross, with the two girls ending up on the couch, laughing as Bon-Bon was trying to free herself from Lyra’s grip. Vinyl and Octavia were looking at them, one undoubtedly astounded by the situation, the other trying to contain her laughter, because laughing at drunk people is not fun. Or maybe it’s extremely fun. But she shouldn’t do it.

After a couple of minutes of fighting aimlessly on the couch, Lyra got up, reaching for Octavia’s hand at the surprise of the cellist.

“Alright Tavi, since this one over there is obviously not in the shape, I’ll be the one to make you dance!”

“I’m in a very good shape!”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yes.”

“What time is it?”

“The color blue.”

“Alright.”

“Don’t do it!”

“I’m gonna do it!”

“No!”

“Oh yes.”

“Okay.”

“Holy fucking shit.”

“Let’s go Octavia! Before this one can stand up or this one understands that dancing means stopping her un-danceable music!”

“Lyra, stop!” Octavia panicked, pulling the sleeve of the mint-haired girl in the opposite direction, “What do you mean, dance?!”

“Uhm… duh? Dance, you know? Like everyone does in a- okaaaaayyyyyyy I think I see the problem.”

“...”

“You’ve never danced before, have you?”

“As a matter of facts, I have! I used to ballet dancing when I was a kid.”

“Ballet dancing? Oh for fu-”

She was interrupted by the soft yet painful pressure of Vinyl’s fist on her shoulder.”

“Alright then. I presume you’ve never tried rock, shuffle, twist or any sort of choreography?”

“I have no idea of what any of those are.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll learn sooner or later! That’s what I’m here for! Because I dunno about Bon-Bon, but between us, Vinyl can’t dance for sh- AOUCH!”

Vinyl had just finished writing the second chapter of the love story between her right fist and Lyra’s shoulder when she took her phone to send a small encouragement text to Octavia. She needed that.

“No Lyra, I’ve never done this before!”

“So when did you plan on doing it?!”

“I didn’t!”

“See? Now come with me! I’ll promise that if you don’t enjoy it, we’ll stop!”

“But everyone will look at us and think I’m ridicule! Both of us will be ashamed! And what if someone records me?”

“Nobody will! Everyone’s cool here! And I’m sure you’re far from the only one here who’s never danced.”

“...You are certain about this?”

“Positive.”

“...”

“So? Whaddya say?”

“...No, I can’t. What would my parents say? This is not how I’ve been raised…”

“Bullshit!”

Lyra’s intervention caused Octavia to jump in surprise, and tremble at the visible anger of her friend.

“You’ve been raised like this, so what?! I think we both know your parents aren’t exactly folks of the year! And I’m sorry, but if this is what they taught you, then screw them! It doesn’t benefit anyone! They just don’t wanna take any risks, so they forbid you from having a fucking life! Also-”

The girl stopped her tirade once she saw the tears forming in the corners of Octavia’s eyes. She obviously wasn’t used to getting such a talk, especially from a friend. And the lyrist’s style may have been a little aggressive for her.

“I’m sorry, Octavia. I shouldn’t say that about your family… You know me, I’m like that. Also, I’m a little bit drunk, so that doesn’t help… But hear me out on this: if you can’t never let anything happen, then nothing will ever happen.”

Octavia looked at Lyra: she had never seen her friend with such a serious expression on her face. Despite Lyra’s usual carefree behavior, she obviously was as sincere as can be on this. The cellist could definitely see the resemblance with Vinyl. Then she thought about what all of her friends had done to get her here tonight. She owed them that. And quite possibly, she owed herself that.

“Alright Lyra.” She answered, with a determined smile on her face, “Show me how you dance.”

“YES!” The girl yelled, catching the attention of every student, animal, and probably every single particle in a one-kilometer radius, “Haha! I knew you had it in you girl! Let’s go!”

She grabbed Octavia by the hand, and started running towards the garage, much to the panic of her prey.

“Vinyl! Come with us! You need to shut down your shit! Pinkie Pie sent you a playlist of songs normally-constituted humans can dance to!”

“Alright, we’re in for a ride I guess. Better keep tracks of this moment for later complimenting and/or humiliating purposes.”

“Vinyl!” Octavia shouted, “Are you planning on recording this?”

“Yes.”

“Of course not” She signed, feeling some mix between guilt and fun.

“Oooh lord, I don’t think that’s a good idea.”

“It’s a great idea!” Lyra laughed, “Tell me what wrong could it possibly do, learning how to dance. Trying to learn maybe.”

“When you put it like that…”

“It’s perfect! I know! I’m that kind of chick! Let’s go! Everyone’s waiting for the songs to start!”

“Ev… Everyone will be there?!”

“Of course! But they’ll be dancing too, not looking at us, so no worries girl!”

“Oh my…”

“Hey, you sound like a girl I know!” Pinkie Pie added, passing by and refilling cups.

“...Like this?”

“Almost there, more like this. Careful, don’t trip.”

“Oh lord, this is not really instinctive.”

“Oh, you know, you get used to it.”

The two girls had been practicing for about fifteen minutes now. The garage was filled with students, most of them in groups of two or three, listening and dancing to various rock and pop bands from the last two decades. The mood was greatly different compared to the previous hour, smoother, calmer, despite the electric guitar tunes and the dozens of teenagers dancing in the room. And although Octavia wasn’t used to this kind of tracks, it was at least something she knew the existence of. And that didn’t shatter her ears into a million pieces.

“Hey, that’s better! Loosen up, you look like you’ve swallowed a street light!”

“Easier said than done, Lyra!” Octavia answered awkwardly, maintaining her grip on her friend’s hands, moving her left left and right, back and forth, trying not to strengthen her relationship with the concrete floor. She was exhausted, trying to follow Lyra’s movements, moving in circles and staying constantly in motion. Sometimes, Lyra let go of a hand and made Octavia spin around for a couple of seconds, much to the cellist’s fright.

“Alright Octavia, let’s try something a little more advanced.”

“Advanced? I mean… already?”

“I mean, it has been fifteen minutes, so we should consider the idea of trying a second movement, don’t you think?”

“I… I think it sounds fair.”

“Perfect! Okay, just relax, and lemme show you. Keep your hands attached to mine.”

“What are you planning to doooo-”

She was stopped by a sudden movement from Lyra’s hands, placing Octavia’s back against the lyrist’s chest, with the two girls’s arms encircling her, and Lyra moving from side to side behind her, not letting go of her hands.

“Lyra, what is this?!”

“Told ya, it’s a new move, chill!”

“I, uhm… This is quite unusual.”

“I bet. Okay, now let go of my left hand.”

As soon as Octavia obeyed, her friend used her right hand, still attached to Octavia, to make the latter spin around, to finally end up facing her again, catching her left hand, and continuing the dance like it was nothing.

“Heyyyy, you’re starting to get good at this! Or maybe it’s just the alcohol speaking. Oh well.”

“That was… unexpected, Lyra. But also kind of thrilling, to tell the truth.”

“Haha, yes! HEY VINYL! SUCK IT! I’VE DONE IT!”

“Lyra, calm down, everyone is looking at us…”

“YOU OWE ME FIVE DOLLARS DUDE!”

“Maybe it’s time we took a break…”

“No way dude! You’re starting to enjoy this, let’s make it count!”

Octavia looked at Lyra, smiling and moving back and forth in front of her, still holding her hands. She was hesitant. But this new experience, this whole new world was… liberating.

Maybe for once she should do what she wanted to do.

And she didn’t want to let that pass.

Octavia was dancing. Not ballet dancing, during classes her parents wanted her to take when she was seven. Actually dancing, like a normal teenager. Facing Lyra, her friend. Watching Vinyl and Bon-Bon, her friends. All of them helping her, reassuring her, letting her choose her own fate. She was on a concrete floor, in a garage in a house from the suburbs, but it felt like best place she had ever visited. She had learned so much in one night, and not just about dance. She thought about these moments she had shared with Vinyl, the intimacy and sincerity of the instant. She felt safe.

She felt free.

The past half hour had been spent trying to dance, following Lyra’s movements and directions, making one step back, and two steps forward. And now she was almost used to half a dozen moves she had no idea existed one hour ago. A sentiment of accomplishment was flowing through her veins. She closed her eyes…

When she opened them, she was in the car.

Did she fall asleep for a moment? She was on the back seat, face against the window, as the trees and houses were passing by her eyes. Not a sound around her, except for the engine. She looked around. Lyra wasn’t there, nor was Bon-Bon. But Vinyl was driving, quietly, concentrated on the road ahead, plunged in darkness.

“Vinyl…”

The DJ’s eyes instantly looked in the rear-view mirror, noticing Octavia. She smiled warmly at her friend, not letting go of the wheel.
After a few seconds of thinking, Octavia remembered: they were n their way back to the manor, where Dana was waiting for them. At this hour, the guards’s shifts were over, and she could easily open the back gate to let Octavia in. She looked at her phone screen: they were on time, thank god.

“Vinyl, I ought to thank you for bringing me back at the manor.”

Her friend couldn’t use her phone or notepad, but made a few simple signs to notice the cellist that it was normal, and that Lyra and Bon-Bon had stayed at the party, where she would join them back later.

“I… I still cannot quite believe everything that happened tonight.”

She saw a large smile on Vinyl’s face, followed by a few hand motions:

You were amazing.

Before Octavia could think about blushing, the car stopped. They had arrived to the manor. Vinyl stopped the engine, opening Octavia’s door.

“Oh my Vinyl, you seem so impatient, are you alright?”

Then she noticed Dana, who was already there, near the opened gate, smiling at them from a few yards away. Octavia waved at her, happy to see the old maid. Suddenly, she felt an intense pressure on her chest. Before she could realize, she was in Vinyl’s arms. The blue-haired girl was holding her tight, not saying a word, or writing one. Past the initial confusion, Octavia realized how this evening had been as important for Vinyl as it had been scary for her. She smiled, and hugged back.

When the DJ finally let go, she looked deep in Octavia’s eyes and smiled, taking a piece of paper and simply writing:

I’ll see you on Monday :D

-with a cute little smiling face at the end. Octavia smiled back, holding the paper tight, as her friend got back in her car, and as she was walking towards Dana. She looked at the blue lights moving away in the dark of the night.

“Dana?”

“Yes, dear?”

“I think I know how to dance.”

Author's Notes:

Hey everyone!

This chapter is slightly late compared to what I've told you (well, the few of you who read the blog post, in which I explain I need F E E D B A C K), so I don't feel too bad ^^
Plus, this weekend was my brother's wedding, so bros before churros (don't search for a meaning in this, there is none).
Anyway, we're gonna start the last few chapters, I hope you boiz are ready, because the Sombra arc is coming back!

So BUCKLE UP!

Bisous,

Saga.