Life on Bridleway

by SparklingVynegar

Chapter 1: Meeting

How does Love speak?
In the faint flush upon the telltale cheek,
And in the pallor that succeeds it; by
The quivering lid of an averted eye--
The smile that proves the parent to a sigh
Thus doth Love speak.

How does Love speak?
By the uneven heart-throbs, and the freak
Of bounding pulses that stand still and ache,
While new emotions, like strange barges, make
Along vein-channels their disturbing course;
Still as the dawn, and with the dawn's swift force--
Thus doth Love speak.

How does Love speak?
In the avoidance of that which we seek--
The sudden silence and reserve when near--
The eye that glistens with an unshed tear--
The joy that seems the counterpart of fear,
As the alarmèd heart leaps in the breast,
And knows, and names, and greets its godlike guest--
Thus doth Love speak.

How does Love speak?
In the proud spirit suddenly grown meek--
The haughty heart grown humble; in the tender
And unnamed light that floods the world with splendor;
In the resemblance which the fond eyes trace
In all fair things to one belovèd face;
In the shy touch of hands that thrill and tremble;
In looks and lips that can no more dissemble--
Thus doth Love speak.

How does Love speak?
In the wild words that uttered seem so weak
They shrink ashamed in silence; in the fire
Glance strikes with glance, swift flashing high and higher,
Like lightnings that precede the mighty storm;
In the deep, soulful stillness; in the warm,
Impassioned tide that sweeps through throbbing veins,
Between the shores of keen delights and pains;
In the embrace where madness melts in bliss,
And in the convulsive rapture of a kiss--
Thus doth Love speak.

Love's Language by Ella Wheeler Wilcox

Bridleway. The Big Time.

It was the dream of any actor to find their way onto this hallowed stage. Ponies lined up for months just to see the magnificent performances. Every play worth seeing was shown here, including the world famous Hinney of the Hills. From the idles of every little filly to the most graceful and wondrous singers and performers, you’d seen them all, met a fair amount, and, even became friends with some.

You can’t act for nothing, that’s for sure, but you thanked all the Alicorns that you had one talent that allowed you to work in such a wonderful environment: Music.

You work as the pianist of the Manehattan Bridleway Symphony Orchestra. It was the dream of a lifetime. Everyday was a new adventure, getting to do the one thing you love for audiences of thousands.

Oh, sure you aren’t the direct spotlight, but that didn’t matter. Your work is appreciated regardless, even if the actors were first priority, music was certainly important for a musical.

“Hey,” a refined, Canterlotian accent calls toward you. Looking over your shoulder you are greeted by a familiar face.

“Hello, Octavia,” you greet the grey mare approaching you. Octavia is the lead cellist of the orchestra, an even more impressive feat than your placement. After all, there was only one piano, “You did a wonderful job on your solo today, especially considering the, ahem, incident of last nights rehearsal.”

“Hmpf” Octavia harumphs in mock defense, “It’s not my fault that Vinyl decided to steal my sheet music for her ‘Synthetic Orchestra’ or whatever she calls that nonsense.”

“Yeah, she’s a real pain isn’t she? I wonder why you still live with her,”

“Ah…yes, well, I suppose it’s because she- um…well,” the cellist stammers a faint pink spreading over her cheeks.

You chuckle at her embarrassment. “Oh, right, how could I forget?”

“S-shut up! You know it’s not like that!” the mare said defiantly.

“Mmhm, yeah, sure, totally,” you answer with a smug grin.

Octavia sighs, “I’m never going to convince you against your little theory am I.”

You answer with a shake of your head.

“Then…you’re right…I, like her…”

Now you’re laughing full force, “No! I never would have guessed!”

Octavia’s cheeks once again flush, she looks down at her hoofs in hurt. Seeing this, you catch yourself, changing your gaze to one of regret as you place a comforting hoof on her shoulder.

“Hey, hey, sorry, I…got a bit carried away, I’m happy for you, Tavi!”

“…you know I hate that stupid name.” The mare smiles in spite of herself.

“Well, you’re going to have to get used to it if you want to be with Vinyl,” you point out.

“Shouldn’t you be worrying about your own predicament?”

You tilt your head in confusion, “And what might that be, exactly? I don’t happen to be involved with anypony at the moment, you know.”

“Exactly. Shouldn’t you be looking for a mare, or…”

“Mare,” you say before she can even finish that thought.

“Hey, it’s okay to be different~”

“Shut up, Octavia!” You had nothing against coltcuddlers, you just didn’t like being confused for one.

“Alright, alright. But still, I’ve never even seen you look at a mare that way. Isn’t there anypony you have your eye on?”

“Nope,”

“Really?” she raises an eyebrow at you.

“Yup,”

Octavia put a hoof to her chin in thought, “What about…Lyra?”

“Pfff, no,” you answer, “You know very well she can't stand to be in the same room with me for more than an hour.”

“For one who likes to play Princess Cadence so often, you really should start to think about your own affairs,”

“A: not how Princess Cadence works, B: You have no business telling me what to do with my time, and C…,” you drift off, your mind drawing a blank.

“And C:...?” Octavia asks, Confused.

“I don’t know,” you reply, “It just feels like there should be a third one.”

“Well, you have fun trying to think of that. In the meantime, Thread wanted me to hand the new costume designs over to the tailor, but I have…business to take care of, so I was wondering if you could do it instead.” She pulls a file of papers seemingly from nowhere and hoofs them over to you. Extending a wing you wrap the file against your side.

“Alright fine, but you owe me.”

“Sure, whatever. See you later!” she calls as she begins to trot toward the exit, cello on her back.

“Bye!” You call back, “And tell that business I said ‘hi’,”

Octavia stumbles a bit as she heard you figure her out, but none the less, she carries on.

“Ah, ponies in love…” a wistful sigh escapes you. You always were a romantic. Every time you read a novel, you made sure a love story was involved and always felt your heart warm in the tender scenes. Seeing something like that happen with real ponies was all the more rewarding.

Done with your little daydream, you walk toward the halls where the various stagehoofs were located. More work went into a Bridleway production than just actors, of course. From lighting, to writers, designers, tailors, and, ahem, musicians, each show required hundreds for it to run smoothly.

Rounding a corner, you come to a simple wooden door with a plain, black plastic label with bold white letters that reads:

C. POMMEL DESIGNER/TAILOR

Bringing a hoof up, you give the door three knocks, not too hard, but enough to be heard.

“Come in, please,” a quiet voice calls from inside.

You push the door open with your hoof. Inside are several pony-shaped mannequins of different sizes sporting different dress. Costumes for western sheriffs, businessponies, medieval royalty, you even see a superhero in the corner. About the walls are fabrics in shades of every sort. In one corner of the room is a small desk with a sewing machine atop it. Next to the machine was a spool of rainbow colored thread on a small pedestal, similar to how one would present a trophy.

“Um…h-hello?” the timid voice from before calls.

Dragging your attention away from the room, you look before you at the tailor. She is a very light tan color. Her light blue mane is worn in a short bob, with a flower hair clip in back. Around her neck rests a purple sailor collar with a red tie. Her blue eyes are staring directly into yours.

“O-oh, hello,” you finally get out, “You must be the tailor, yes?”

“Mmhm, my names Coco Pommel, nice to meet you,” she extends a hoof toward you, which you shake lightly as you introduce yourself.

“A friend of mine said you will be needing these for the next performance,” you say pulling the file Octavia gave you out from under your wing.

“Oh dear, the new designs are already in?” her eyes widen in shock, “I…I don’t know if I’ll be able to get them all done in time…I mean, I hope I can, at least I… oh my, I only have a week to prepare I- I-” before she freaks out, the mare takes a deep breath through her nose, “I need to get started right away. Thank you for coming by, and if you know anyone who could help with a tailoring job, that would be wonderful,”

You think for a second. Most of your friends were more involved in music than sewing, the few that weren’t all had their own small businesses that they needed to attended, storefront owners and the like. Of course you could always…nah. You haven’t messed with it in forever, not since you discovered your love of piano.

“Sorry, but I’m afraid I can’t think of anyone.”

“Oh, okay, that’s fine. I’ll still be able to get this done…I hope,” she sat herself down in front of the sewing machine and immediately began to stitch fabric together. You couldn’t stand it anymore. It just wasn’t like you to leave a mare in distress.

“Actually,” you speak up, her ear lifting up to listen to you better, her concentration on her work, “I…I think, I mean it has been a while, but…um, if you really need help, I…have some sewing experience.”

“Really?” she asked excitedly turning around, her beautiful blue eyes were wide open wearing a hopeful smile on her muzzle. Now how could you say no to that?

“Really.” You nod.

“Oh thank you thank you thank you,” she jumps and hugs you around your neck. The sudden physical contact a bit too much for you.

“M-M-Miss P-Pommel?” you stammer out, barely overcoming the shock.

Apparently she realized what she was doing, because she immediately shot back.

“Oh, my! I’m sorry, I was just so excited, I-” she cowered back slightly, a deep scarlet blush on her muzzle as she seemed to try and hide behind her blue mane, ineffective considering she wore it so short.

“No hard feelings,” you say, although you shiver slightly, still in shock. You take a few deep breaths in order to calm yourself down, your heart is racing just from the shock.

“So…shall we get started,” you offer.

“Oh, yes. Right away!” she cheers, recovering from her embarrassment.

This is going to be an interesting week.

Author's Note:

I. LOVE. Coco Pommel.

When I first saw her my heart physically exploded from the sheer amount of adorableness that she had. I HAD to write this. HAD TO. I really hope that this fic will be my first that takes an actual amount of time and effort, and hopefully will be as awesome as I am hoping for it to be.

Also, I am currently looking for pre-readers for this story. If you wish to become one, leave a comment PM me, whatever just tell me you want to be one. Fair warning, I will probably be inconsistent with my posting of later chapters

Danke.

-Edelweiss

Comments

[Azreon]

Is the you human or pony?

[JimboTex]

3996212

Seeing this, you catch yourself, changing your gaze to one of regret as you place a comforting hoof on her shoulder.

Extending a wing you wrap the file against your side.

Based on the descriptions, I'd say a pony - pegasus to be precise.

[gantherogue]

I look forward to this with great anticipation.

[Kraken Hatchling]

Have yet to see a story with Octavia that doesn't have Vinyl in it. I will keep searching.
Also nice story.

[Valiant Hearts]

Waifu stealer . . .