"But if you ask me, I think that the dry food is better for Scribbler," Octavia says, curled up on the park bench to my right. "At least when it becomes time to clean up after her, it's... well... a lot easier to manage. I'm afraid that if we switch entirely to soft food, then it'll go straight through the poor thing and it'll come out like... pure liquid. Goddess, I shudder at the thought."
I nod, feeling the rattle of earphones around my neck. All around us, ponies chat merrily from hilltops and park benches, and it is all yellow. I suppose we each have a little bit of Derpy in us. Octavia's tongue, however, threads purple seams through the golden quilt and I wrap myself tight in it.
"And it's not as if she hasn't been housetrained," Octavia says. "Fluttershy was generous enough to take care of that little issue before we took the adorable thing in. Much rather, I think Scribbler is trying to give us a message. Maybe she wants attention, or she's feeling discomfort and has no other way of communicating it with us. I mean... perhaps you understand, Vinyl."
I turn and give her a long, dull glare through my shades.
She's already wincing. "Erm... not to suggest in any way that you desire to communicate through... ahem... random acts of rebellious defecation."
My shoulders quiver with a breathy chuckle. I stare out across the verdant lawn once again. Birds flitter overhead, their chirping beaks full of gold stripes and platinum bolts. They rain down on our heads like pixie dust and fade into the green hum of the world.
"In Trottingham, my father owned a Great Dane," Octavia says. "An enormous breed of canine. You have no earthly idea! It dwarfed me by almost threefold! Granted, I was quite the petite little filly, so even a dachshund would have been a formidable obstacle to contend with, but that's besides the point." A gust of wind disturbed a lock of her hair and she was quick to brush it back into satin straightness. "Father's trusted hound went on in years, and the summer after I got my cutie mark, it started leaving... erm... essences of itself around the house. Within a week, my father had the poor thing put down. I figured he knew that there was no recovering from that. Then again, my father has never been too keen on creatures he couldn't control. I should know a thing or two about that..."
I nod, then take a hearty glug from a half-full bottle of Dr. Pony. Octavia was gracious enough to let us stop by Sugarcube Corner on the way to the park. She's far more generous than she lets on.
And then the violet bands take on a dark, wavering hue. "Do you think Scribbler's time is up too? That... this 'problem' of hers is a sign? A dark sign this early on?"
I roll my eyes and shake my head with a warm smile.
"Yes, I do suppose I am being melodramatic." Octavia gulps. "Though she can be quite taxing at times, I do care for the little scoundrel, as do you, I imagine."
I nod. An inverted rainbow of yellow, red, and brown colors echoes from across the lawn. I look to my left to see an orange filly drawing two other blank flanks across the grass in a tiny wagon. Their laughter runs the gambit of the whole vomitous spectrum, and I struggle to find a delightful cadence from it all to take home with me to the studio. The one with a fluffy mane in particular is the most golden...
"Why do we take on pets, Vine?" Octavia muses. "They live such blissfully short lives, like sweet ballads that are melancholic in tone from the start. You'd think we would have better sense than to set ourselves up for such heartache, again and again."
I look towards her, shrug, and beat a pale hoof over my chest. A red cloud emanates between us, and once it dissolves I can see a tired smile hanging off her soft muzzle.
"You're right, I suppose," she murmurs, a dull, somber indigo. "It's what lets us remember that we have hearts to begin with."
Sure, that works.
I take another swig of Dr. Pony. Wiping my muzzle clean, I can feel a deep twitch in my fuzzy pony innards. The caffeine is kicking in, and suddenly every band of color has a persistent, quivering beat to it. I smile ravenously, alive in the ever-evolving delirium around us. My eyes dart left and right, imprisoned by their thick lenses. I pierce through the translucent bars and carve a cliff. The colors bunch up against the knifing edge, and I'm already sculpting the perfect bass drop in the churning surf beyond.
Octavia interrupts it, turning the rough tide into a satin pool of purple sheets. "I know that look on your face. You're crafting a new electronic masterpiece, aren't you, love?"
In truth, I held my concentration up until that very last word. It's always the most vibrant one in Tavi's vocabulary, like a kitchen drawer bursting with violet carving knives. They slice up the dance track just twenty beats before it's fully formulated, but somehow I don't feel like complaining.
"Well, if I stay out here any longer, I fear that I may perspire." She pats my shoulder before dismounting the bench with a supple stretch of her spine. She's more like a cat than the feline she delights in complaining about. "I'll leave you to your sugary beverage. Celestia knows, it only gives me..." She looks cautiously over her shoulder, as if worried that some other soul would be close enough to register her heinous confession. "...gives me gas."
I smirk, offering a casual salute in response.
"Now imported Red Wine," Tavi coos. "Especially of the midnight sarosian variety?" She's carried aloft by the purple cloud that is her sigh, and she shuffles off towards the east end of town. "I think I'll make a quick stop by the Boutique to see how my custom gown is fairing, and then I'll make my way back home. Be a dear, Vinyl, and use the back door if you're not back by sundown? The front hinges groan in such an awful way that they frighten poor Scribbler, and I could certainly do without her scampering frantically across my chest at night."
I simply nod, watching her leave, and the purple trails with her.
"I swear, it was you who insisted that we not de-claw her." And she's gone, leaving me with the faintest of fuzzy shadows.
I revel in it briefly, then exhale. The soda bottle is nearly empty. Might as well make the best of it. I take a sip, squint into the horizon, and allow the colors to resume their frenetic march. Then, with a courageous smirk, I venture upon braving the cliffs again.
I'm rather digging this beat.
Hmm...Vinyl seems to take a particular notice to colors...
Y'know, I'm no wine person, but something tells me that would taste really good.
Now I'm wondering what she would see if she were to blow across the open top.
Is she referencing what fic I think she is?
To be honest I'm really put off by the use of present tense instead of past; makes it seem like it's a script for some ASMR thing.
I think that should be 'gamut'
6245915 Mind sharing with the rest of the class?
Innteresting, so Vinyl can use caffeine to give her synesthesia a jump start which in turn sparks her creativity as she observes the world around her.
This is a good instance to point out that we see Vinyl's gestures are not enough to fully convey what she means but instead relies on others to come to the meaning or something similar from them. It's almost like telling people what they want to hear, but better because they themselves come up with the words.
I wonder if Vinyl will truly be mute or just a mare of few words.
So how does vinyls vision work? Is she always seeing these colours or is she just creating music out of things she sees? You get what im saying right?
6254271 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chromesthesia
I don't know how anyone can like Dr.Pepper. It tastes like cheap cola to me.
Guh! My feels!
This is really interesting. Seems like your version of Vinyl is one of those rare individuals who sees sound as color, a synesthete. I actually know someone like that, it's really interesting. Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen anyone write about this at all. Bonus points for creativity!
Man I am loving how Vinyl is written in this, how she sees sounds as colors and whatnot.
Gawd, that is so freaking cool.
Nicely done!
Wow, yet another amazing little bit of information from a fic. It truly amazes me how many new things you can learn just from fiction alone, especially given the diversity available on a site like this. I don't think i'd have ever learned of it otherwise.
Took the time to look over this Synesthesia, and the variant: Chromesthesia, a little. While i've never met anyone with such a facinating condition, it seems like an increadibly unique perspective. I can't help but wonder what it would be like to see sounds and music in this way. It certainly sounds incredible!
6245626 Isn't this synthesia?
6377042 Synesthesia, yeah, that's what I'm thinking of. Tavi sounds purple, and a melodious. I wonder if Vinyl would sound red, and scratchy. Actually, given her relative muteness and how she claims Octavia saved her life,
I'm imagining she was saved from some kind of life-threatening situation that resulted in the distruction of her vocal chords. (Leaning towards strangulation so far...)I AM SOOO WRONG.Also, is there going to be a song for every chapter? If there is, then wow! I'm going to have to start looking some of these up!
It is in the nature of ponies (and humans) to love. Sometimes, we choose to extend that to animal companions.
It's interesting that Vinyl's 'harmony vision' should have noted the essentially chaotic nature of the Cutie Mark Crusaders!
Two things starting really bugging me as I read this chapter: assuming Vinyl has always been a mute, by choice or not, does anypony else know that she synesthetic? As we have already seen, Vinyl communicates with gestures, body language, and facial expressions. If she refuses to communicate any other way, how would anypony else find out that she is synesthetic? And that leads me into the second thing: does Vinyl know that synesthesia is not normal? If nopony else knows that Vinyl is synesthetic, how would Vinyl figure out that hearing colors and feeling sounds is not normal?
(Edit: After reading the very beginning of chapter 4, almost all of my questions here are answered in one fell swoop...)
I seem to learn an new word everytime I read this story. Its a masterpiece of language but the context of the words aren't lost despite not knowing what they mean. The language is so well written.
Makes me feel bad about my fic.
I'm truly enjoying how you're making Vinyl speak volumes without her speaking at all.
Also, color plays a good part in all this, I'd guess.
~Skeeter The Lurker
6245915
A puppet to Her Fame?
I venture into another long Odyssey.