The Snow on Her Cheek

Chapter Twenty-Three

On a Clear Day

***

"And then he said, Old chap, it's Byronic, not bionic!" Vinyl ended her story, breaking into laughter, as the two musical ponies trotted down the snowy street, their moods high due to the fact that the previous day had been, as they both had agreed, the most wonderful day in their lives - their first Hearth's Warming Eve together, as a couple. It had gone just as they had planned - and they couldn't have wished for more.

Octavia gave her marefriend an example of a perfect facehoof, groaning. "Vinyl, no offence, but this is one of the worst puns I have ever heard."

"Well..." Vinyl winked, nudging her mare playfully. "I think it's rather... ironic..." The pianist's face lit up with an ear-to-ear grin.

"Oh Celestia..." Octavia tried to sound unamused, but still found the pun a little funny ("punny", a tiny voice in her head whispered) and chuckled, shaking her head. "Vinyl, of all the mares in the world-"

Suddenly, she stopped mid-phrase as a middle-aged grey stallion with a black moustache approached them, a frown upon his face. Vinyl barely managed to suppress another pun that had just appeared on the horizon of her mind.

"Ladies, I would like to ask you to keep your voices down," he hissed to the musical mares, his face expression stern and disapproving. "Besides, I cannot understand how you can be cheerful and gay at a time like this!" he exclaimed in anger.

"Hey, we're not gay!" Vinyl retorted, already preparing for a battle of wits, or - if it should come down to this - hooves.

Octavia hit her face with a hoof again, wondering if she was going to set some kind of high score for facehoofs today.

"Gay in the meaning, happy, or cheerful," she whispered into Vinyl's ear, making the white pianist blush and chuckle sheepishly. "Sir," she continued, now addressing the stallion. "I fear I do not understand you. Why shouldn't we be cheerful when only yesterday, it was the happiest day of the year - Hearth's Warming Eve?"

The grey pony frowned, even his moustache expressing mild disdain. "Do you ponies even read newspapers nowadays?" he grunted, trotting away and shaking his head, muttering something under his breath.

Vinyl and Octavia exchanged worried glances. Without saying a word, they turned round the corner and headed home.

***

The clock was ticking, disrupting the curtain of silence that had fallen upon the room. Octavia and Vinyl sat on the sofa in each other's embrace, lost in thought; though, both of their minds were completely blank, ripped of any sign of comprehension. The rhythmic sound reverberated in Octavia's mind, filling it with something to focus on; anything at all... just... not this.

"I can't believe it," the cellist finally said, tapping the newspaper with her hoof. "I can't believe it," she repeated firmly, shaking her head. "Equestria would never partake in a... war..." The word seemed so foreign; although the talk of war had been topical lately - everypony knew that war was coming; but coming to Zebrica, to the buffalo lands... anywhere but Equestria. But now the facts spoke for themselves. War was here; and it would soon reach Manehattan, if Equestrian troops would fail as miserably as they had today: the griffins crossed the border with little to no casualties, approaching from the now-Griffin-dominated Zebrica, taking the ponies by surprise, and almost totally unarmed.

Vinyl sighed and closed her eyes, hugging her marefriend even tighter, feeling secure next to her. "I dunno what to believe in, Tavi. I mean, we all knew that there would be a war, but..." She opened her eyes and looked up, facing the cellist. "It was, like... just talk, you know? And now it's here. And... it's really hard to drive into it." The usual jazzy expression didn't sound fitting here, and both mares knew it; but before either of them could say anything else, a knock at the door interrupted their contemplating embrace.

"I'll get it," Octavia said, trotting towards the door. Who might it be? she wondered. Ponies didn't come to their place; nopony ever did. And that had been perfect for the mares: their flat was their fortress, their secure island in the sea of pain and misery; their castle.

As Octavia opened the door, she saw a visibly inebriated brown earth pony stallion, who was standing in the doorway, a grim expression on his face.

"Tom?.." Octavia whispered in disbelief as her brother nodded and entered the flat. She followed him, wondering what brought him here.

"Hi, Tom," Vinyl greeted the stallion, a shocked expression on her face. "How did you find-" she began, but then a realisation dawned upon her. "Oh, right." The marefia, Vinyl. Serious business, she reminded herself.

"Octavia," the stallion spoke softly, occupying the centre spot of the room. "I need to tell you something." He winced, his face painfully twisting. "Something unpleasant."

"The war's here, we know," Octavia said, eyeing her brother suspiciously. Something was wrong; something other than the war. "Why are you drunk, Tom? I've always thought-"

"Cornelio is dead, Octavia," Tom interrupted her softly. A tear crawled down his cheek - a show of emotion that was extremely unusual for the sturdy pony.

Silence hung in the room, thick enough to cut with a knife. Octavia's brain was hopelessly trying to comprehend the information her ears had just delivered. She blinked a few times and finally released her breath with a whisper, "What?.."

"Your brother, Cornelio, is dead," Tom repeated with little to no emotion in his voice, as if he were just stating a simple fact; though, his teary eyes were giving away the fact that the news was hitting hard on him. "When the Griffins came to Zebrica yesterday, Father sent his plane for Mother and him..." The brown pony gulped and trotted towards the table, downing the remains of whisky that had been left from the previous day. "The Griffin Police didn't let them away, so Cornelio helped Mother to get on the plane and took out his gun..." Tom closed his eyes, letting tears stream freely down his face. "Mother got away safely... She appeared on the doorstep, just as we were celebrating Hearth's Warming Eve..."

Octavia closed her mouth with a hoof, to suppress a shriek that was about to leave her lips. Mother's alive, Mother's alive, Mother's alive... the only thought revolved in her mind.

"Cornelio wasn't half as lucky." Tom shook his head, inspecting the empty bottle. "The paper says he killed four Griffins before they shot him... He was a damn good shot..."

Vinyl shifted uncomfortably: she was just as shocked as her marefriend, but there was nothing she could help with, and that was driving her crazy.

Octavia couldn't hold her emotions any more: she ran up to her brother, enveloping him in a crushing embrace. Cornelio's dead... she thought, and that was enough to make her cry, waterfalls of tears flowing through her fur, entwined with Tom's, who began sobbing as well. On one hoof, the cellist was shocked to learn about her brother's death, but on the other...

"Cornelio's dead," she stated, her voice trembling. "But Mother's alive."

Seeing Tom nod, she straightened her pose, fire of determination lighting up in her eyes. "I need to see her. Now." The grey pony turned towards her mare, who got up from the sofa. "Vinyl, are you-"

"I'm always with you, Tavi," the pianist said softly. "Wherever you go." She gulped. "Tavi, I'm sorry for your loss..." she mumbled.

Octavia nodded. "I know." She took a deep breath and looked at Tom, then at her marefriend. "We're leaving now."

With that, the mares grabbed their most essential possessions and trotted out of the door, followed by the drunk and heart-broken Tom.