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Higher-res version of >>17421 (merged) (23/6/2102)
“Hello, Vinyl?” Octavia asked, giving a gentle smile to the sort of pony she never thought she’d call her best friend. The white mare turned to face her, unoccupied now that her show had reached its conclusion.
“Oh, hey Tavi,” she greeted jovially, the corners of her mouth curling upward into a grin. As always, that was the only indication of mirth from Vinyl. Most of a pony’s emotions were conveyed by their eyes and eyebrows, and Octavia had never seen Vinyl’s. She had always wondered what was under those large sunglasses of hers.
Octavia fidgeted slightly, suddenly feeling uncomfortable. She had never seen Vinyl without her sunglasses. She never took them off. Perhaps Vinyl wore the sunglasses to hide some hideous injury, or something else that she wouldn’t want ponies seeing. It wouldn’t matter to Octavia - Vinyl was her friend, and she would never judge a friend - but yet, she couldn’t suppress her curiosity.
“Vinyl, dear… I have always wondered something about you.”
The DJ’s smile shrunk almost imperceptibly, as if she knew exactly what Octavia was thinking. “What?”
“If you wouldn’t mind… may I see your eyes?” Octavia toned her question as softly and delicately as she could, but when Vinyl’s smile abruptly vanished, she felt a small chill in her stomach. She recognized the feeling; it was the same feeling that she had felt as a filly when she said something that her parents might’ve considered “uncouth.”
Vinyl was quieter than a mouse for a few moments, simply staring at Octavia with an unreadable expression. The chill in Octavia’s stomach quickly grew into a fierce blizzard, and she frowned. “I… If there’s something under there you don’t want me to see, I promise that I won’t judge you for it,” she said, stepping forward.
Vinyl didn’t move until Octavia reached for the sunglasses, at which point she quickly stepped backwards. “Tavi, please don’t. There’s a reason I keep these on. They’re made from special enchanted crystal and stuff. It’s so I don’t blast ponies with my eye lasers.”
The only thing missing from the scene was the sound of a record scratching. All at once, the ice in Octavia’s stomach melted and the blizzard ground to an abrupt halt. Her concern faded, replaced by minor annoyance. Vinyl often told fibs to her just to seem “extra cool,” and she didn’t question them, but this was just ridiculous. It sounded like something out of a comic book.
In one swift motion, two grey hooves took hold of the white mare’s sunglasses.
“Wait no no nononono TAVI WAIT!”
What is wrong with me!
OPTIC BLAST