< ( so… tavi )
 
( we are not speaking to one another. ) >
 
< ( but I’m bored! )
 
( and I’m a bow tie, thank you very much! ) >
 
< ( yeah… my bad… )
 
…
 
< ( I spy with my little eye )
 
( you don’t even have eyes! ) >
 
< ( I could, if somepony would put me on! )
 
( I swear if we ever get back to normal, I am going to strangle you with myself. ) >

It had only been a year after Octavia and Vinyl met, anyone who knew either could tell you this wasn’t going to last. The pair were simply far too different, a rowdy, night-life DJ with an early-rising, reserved cellist? Even the blind could see it wasn’t going to work.
 
The final straw was drawn on a cold Manehatten night, the duo walking down the street, Octavia clearly disgruntled.
 
 
“Oh come on Tavi, it wasn’t that bad!” Vinyl chimed, still a bit buzzed from after-show drinking.
 
“Not that bad? People went to that bar to listen to music. And I got maybe five seconds in before you completely drowned me out with that noise machine of yours!” Octavia retorted.
 
“Well all you had to do was play louder.” Vinyl snickered.
 
“That’s not how cellos work you boneheaded bafoon! I can’t just turn a magic dial and make everything louder.”
 
“Well maybe you shou-” Vinyl was cute off by her own belching, “Maybe you should get with the times and stop using that hunk of wood!”
 
“Well maybe you should learn a bit of class. It’s not like it’ll kill you.”
 
“Come on Tavi, what’s gotten your bowtie in a bunch?”
 
“You want to know why I’m furious? I spent a year of my life with the likes of you and have been constantly berated, mocked and had my music drowned out by a unicorn that couldn’t tell me the difference between an Oboe and an elbow!”
 
“Oh it hasn’t been that bad! I mean you gotta live a little!”
 
“Live? So spending the night drinking until you can barely walk, and then having fun with three barely-legal teenagers at the age of 27, while tripping out. Is living? If that’s the case I’d rather avoid ‘living’ at least when I was ‘dead,’ as you like to put it, I had a reputation, unlike you.”
 
“Like what have I done to harm that reputation?” Vinyl asked the angered cellist, nearly falling off the pavement.
 
“What have you done?” Octavia asked sarcastically. “Oh I don’t know, maybe that time in which you wanted me to provocatively dance with my panties at my ankles while you blared your noise, but when I refused you hired a changeling to take the appearance of me and do it anyway? Oh, how about the time you spiked my drink at the casino we were supposed to be playing at and got me involved in a losing game of strip-poker? You’ve given me not an ounce of respect for myself and my wishes since this arrangement started, all you care about is your next thrill. You live one high to the next, but complain about me not ‘having a life.’ At least I had my success. All you’ve ever achieved is the affection of teenagers too stoned to find an exit.”
 
Octavia was absolutely furious, taking off her tie and redoing it in a ‘ring’ of sorts. “Take those glasses off.”
 
“Again, Tavi? I’m not that wasted!”
 
“Take those glasses off, it’s two in the morning what are you even wearing them for!?”
 
“Ugh, fine miss prissy-pants.” Vinyl whined, taking off her violet shades and revealing her bloodshot eyes. “Now what Mistress?”
 
Octavia leaned over and placed the bowtie ‘ring’ on the ground below. “Put them down, away from mine.” She told, Vinyl obliged, still unknowing what the cellist was doing.
 
“This marks the end of our relationship. I’m going to return home to Bristhoof and as for you. I don’t know what you’re going to do but quite frankly I don’t care.”
 
“But Taaaavi…” Vinyl whined.
 
“No buts, I’m tired of this. Goodbye, Ms. Scratch.” And with that, they both turned and walked their separate ways.
 
And as the two accessories laid motionless on the floor with the rain falling around them, the storm’s breeze picked up the pink and white ring, eventually dropping it on the cellist’s head. Octavia would check to see what it was, and just ended up staring at it for a moment.
 
“Oh mother, if only you could see me now… you’d be so ashamed…” Octavia cried. “You gave me this bowtie after I graduated, and I was going to let it sit in the mud and dirt, and for what? Some rowdy holligan of a unicorn…” She continued, rubbing the pink edges gently. “Let’s go home, just the two of us.” And with that she put the tie back on and kept walking, making way for the local train station.