Octavia Takes The Bus

by TheDorkside99

April 4

April 4, 2012
First Bus Ride – 8:00am
Location – Southwest corner of N. 43rd Ave and W. Bell Rd.

Well then, shall we get started? Oh my, this is quite the interesting start to a new personal activity, isn’t it? I have to admit, I am not well versed in the art of journaling, and after reading as much as I could find on the internet, I only stumbled upon a few helpful notes. One of which being a peculiar suggestion by a fellow named “Writer’s Blockhead” to write as though writing to a close friend or relative. Given this approach, I have decided to direct my thoughts and observations to you, father.

Now then, on with the journaling. You must excuse my horrible hoofwriting. Keeping a steady hoof while this beast of a machine stops every Celestia forsaken minute is nearly impossible. Despite the recent technological boom in the past decade or so that led to inventions such as the one transporting me to rehearsal as we speak, it’s boxy design and obnoxiously loud engineering is quite annoying. In fact, as I noticed the bus approaching my stop, I could hear it’s braking system squeal like the blackboard my old music teacher used to scrape her hoof across whenever we became too chatty. And the sound it made when it finally came to a resting stop was as if a hose meant to fill a tire with air were jammed into my ear and pressurized to its maximum volume. Needless to say, I would not allow a city bus to play in any brass section I conduct.

While the physical attributes of the bus were certainly an eye and earsore alike, there is something that needs to be said of its conductor. Upon entering the sliding doors, I couldn’t help but notice the large bulbous mass of fat sagging over his obviously too tight pair of work pants. His eyes were like a pair of raisins sinking into a bubbling bowl of oatmeal and the corners of his mouth dipped down at an unnaturally steep incline. I stepped inside the bus and pulled out a printed itinerary naming all of the routes I needed to take and the hour I was to do so. I asked him if this was Route 43 leaving at the approximate time of 8:00am. The conductor didn’t even look my way and answered with a gruff “yes.” I then asked him how the seating arrangements were given. Normally, I would expect a vehicle with this size of a passenger load to have some sort of system to place ponies in an assigned seat. However, since I couldn’t find such information on the Equestria Transit System website. I decided to ask the conductor directly. You should have seen the look on his face when I did, father. It was like a volcano erupted under his seat. He turned his beady eyes in my direction and gave me a frightening look like he would swallow me whole and spit out my bones like the giant from Jack and the Beanstalk. He rudely demanded that I stop asking stupid questions and pay my fare. Well, not one to take such rudeness, I firmly told him that this was my first ride on public transportation and that some courtesy on his part was the least he could offer or, if he so chose to continue his rudeness, he would hear it from his supervisor. He then slithered his monstrous mass back to his former position and instructed me to place two bits into the machine and take whatever seat I choose. I paid my fare, thanked him, and then took my seat in the very front of the bus. Very much to his audible dismay.

Now to talk about the interior of the bus. My, where do I begin? Shall I describe the hideous design of the seats? Or perhaps I should tell you how uncomfortable they make my back feel? How about the very inappropriate words written all over by what can be best described as immature and highly uneducated high school children? And despite the very clear sign prohibiting the presence of food and beverages, very clear stains can be seen just about everywhere. In fact, and I write this holding back fierce digestive urges, I nearly stepped into a used piece of old chewing gum as I took my seat. I say, are there no ponies in the transit whose jobs are dedicated to the upkeep of these machines? I suppose it could be the conductor’s job to maintain some form of cleanliness. Then again, perhaps not. In all sincerity, something must be said of the way the system cleans their buses, or should I say lack thereof.

Have I mentioned the way the city bus works? From what I could gather during my observations, a pony pays an exact fare into a machine and sets herself in a seat of her choosing. Once all paying customers board the bus, the conductor shuts the doors then pulls the large machine out of the wedge in the street, careful not to cut off an unsuspecting driver, then slowly accelerates up to speed down its predetermined route. This happens several times within a span of minutes, as there are stops of approximate equidistance lining the entire route, and every (and I do truly mean EVERY) stop bears passengers eager to get on board. Once a pony is aware that her destination is approaching, she positions her hoof over a cord that runs along the sides of the bus and waits for the right moment. As soon as the bus rumbles past an empty stop, the pony pulls on the cord and a high pitched “bing” that shatters the ear drum sounds, followed by an unrecognizable voiceover naming the street of the impending stop. The pony then arises from her seat, checks to make sure she has gathered all her belongings, and promptly waits by the back door for the bus to come to a slow and complete halt. The back door is opened with the push of a button, and the pony is released back into the world to carry on her day’s missions. I must say, it is a very efficient system for transporting a large amount of ponies. Now if they could only work on their customer service and presentation…

Alas, father, it is now time for me to talk about what is perhaps the most eye opening and riveting aspect of riding the public city bus: the passengers. Now you know me, I am a very pleasant and easygoing pony who holds no prejudices against anypony anywhere. That you have taught me well. That being said, I cannot remember a time when I was more uncomfortable than I am at this very moment. I do not wish to sound prude, but these ponies were the types I would not normally label as compatriots. They are far too different than I. I want to avoid using the words “inferior” and “poverty stricken”, but even my extensive vocabulary fails me at this moment. Suffice it to say that the population represented in this bus would rival a drug rehabilitation center.

For example, there is an old mare sitting in front of me carrying a large bag filled with groceries. She is sound asleep. If only I could find the ricktey, rumpy ride relaxing enough to catch up on the hours missed last night. She is accompanied by a small filly that releases the most putrid smell in the air that has ever graced my nose. It’s a wonder the old mare would travel the town with this child.

Then there is a young stallion seated in back of me who can’t seem to grab hold of his coffee cup. I do not joke when I say every ten seconds he drops his paper cup, and it rolls with the momentum of the bus towards the front. I do believe the young stallion is perhaps “driven” by a different spirit as his clumsy attempts to retrieve the cup proved to be quite the amusement.

Not all of the ponies on board are peculiar of course. There is me. There are also two stallions seated out front facing each other. One is wearing a nicely pressed polo and a golfer’s hat. The other in a drab jersey sporting one of the local sports teams. I am not familiar with any sort of organization within the realm of professional sports, but I believe it was a baseball jersey. Anyhow, the two stallions were engaged in a rather spirited conversation about things I could not for the life of me comprehend. At one point, the stallion in the golfer’s hat mentioned the name of a team and said that they would “go all the way.” The other stallion responded with a scoff, and pointed proudly to his chest which bore the logo of his favorite team. He then said that this team was going to “take it.” I quickly lost interest in the conversation, seeing that I had no clue how far this particular team was going to go or what the other team was going to take.

There aren’t very many ponies on the bus this morning, and I am quite surprised on how laid back the atmosphere is. If you were to ask me last night how I pictured the bus to be during working hours, I would tell you it would be akin to a rave party complete with blinding bright lights and the choking smell of cigarettes. I presume the “real” fun does not start until the late night runs. I am not looking forward to the ride home, father.

We have come to the halfway point of my trip to the music hall according to my printed map. Several ponies are lined outside the sliding doors as they wait to board. I notice an influx of elderly ponies shuffling their way down the middle of the bus, and so I courteously offer my seat to one of them. I am now sitting in the middle of the bus. Celestia forbid I take a seat in the back and experience the horrors that lie in wake for me. No, the middle is just fine. One last couple have finally boarded and taken their seats just in front of me. They look interesting to me, father.

They are two mares. One sporting a blue and pink hairdo, and the other a more sea green colored hairstyle. They are both very much in tune with each other, which leads me to believe that these mares are in love. Intriguing. Not that I find their relationship offensive, quite the opposite really. I feel great joy in witnessing how confident they are with letting the world see their love. Of course, not all of the ponies feel the same as I, evidenced by the glares coming from those in the front of the bus. The elderly ponies. The ones I offered my seat to. The two mares in love don’t seem to mind though, and for that I am truly glad. But I cannot help but feel contempt for the ladies in front. I can see the corners of their mouths moving discretely as if what they had to say were only for choice ears. A choice I would not make in a hundred years. I prefer my progressive and evolved thinking to your close minded and hateful world, thank you very much. I will not tarry any longer on those outdated brutes, for there is a matter much more serious I believe about these two mares.

The sea green haired one. The one sporting a lovely lyre for a cutie mark. She is wearing a mask. One of those masks given to those ponies who are stricken with a highly contagious aura of some sort. She’s slouched in her seat. She looks worried. I gaze quickly at her hooves and notice a written prescription. In all sincerity, how is it that every doctor in the world has terrible writing? I suppose they have so much to accomplish in one day, penmanship is the least of their worries. Perhaps these mares have come from a doctor’s appointment and are on their way to a pharmacy to purchase her drugs. At least she has a recovery period to look forward to aided by the correct medication. It is my hope the stallion or mare behind the counter can read such chicken scratch of course.

The cute sea green mare is now weeping softly. Tears are streaming slowly down her cheek like a lonely creek. I am afraid that there is perhaps more to her ailments than meets the eye. I noticed that the mare sitting next to her holds a book in her hooves, the title of which seems very unfamiliar to me. It is a copy of “Supernaturals: Natural remedies and cure-alls that are simply super.” It seems to me that these two ponies are in desperation for a cure, for I cannot think of any other reason why she would rent out such an obscure title. The look in her eyes spells it all out.

I am at a loss for words to transcribe what is happening at this moment, my dear father. It is as if someone has twisted the knobs for hot and cold water to full blast in my heart. In front of me sits two mares locked in a hopeful embrace, weeping tears of hopelessness. The book which provided a faint glint of shining hope now sits idly on the floor gathering dust and filth. I haven’t the courage to even gaze upon them. I feel it to be unnecessary and even disrespectful during this moment. If only the other passenger shared this sentiment with me. You would think the television was switched on to a day time soap opera, and they are all just sitting there observing the problems of the two. It’s revolting. To me, if you are not to involve yourself, then it is best to look away than give a false hope of genuine interest. How it sickens me to see them.

But the crying has now stopped. I looked up briefly from my furious writing to behold what can only be described as a moment of peace. Pure, unadulterated peace. The two mares were locked in a gaze. They were smiling. Their eyes were lit up like the first gentle rays of morning that burst through the window pane and warm your face. The ponies in front continued their inane chatter. The book still lied useless on its side. And I sit here dumbfounded with a paralyzed pen, staring into the faces of these two mares for the first time. The yellow one whispered something to her partner, of which I could not make out. I am not a reader of lips. But from what I could glean from the way Lyra’s mouth revealed a childlike grin told me that perhaps they were words that brought more healing than the words printed on any other page in the world. It occurred to me that these mares were more than just in love. These two ponies were one.

I am afraid I will have to close this current session of journaling as my stop is fast approaching. There are so many other items of interest to delve into, but that will be reserved for another time. I still find the bus undesirable, but it is serviceable to know that perhaps there are some decent ponies who take the bus. Until next time, father.

Octavia

April 4, 2012
Second Bus Ride – 3:30pm
Location – Southeast corner of N. 43rd Ave and W. Northern Ave.

Perhaps I should comment on the weather. It is a rather breezy day today. The clouds are partially blocking the sun, leaving several small blotches of sunlight to decorate the streets. It is a nice feeling day, the kind where the wind is a welcome embrace and the sun a wink and a smile. A pleasant day indeed.

You must excuse my musing over the weather, father. I’ve been sitting at the bus stop for about fifteen minutes with nothing to do. Another pony is yet to join the desolate situation and all I have for entertainment is this pad and pen. I don’t feel safe about letting my cello out to practice here for obvious reasons. Though I feel a little uneasy about recording outlying observations, leaving me less room for the true objective of my new found hobby. I shall stop then.

An additional five minutes have passed, and I have finally convinced myself to record something else in order to save my sanity. I am starting to enjoy recording my thoughts. It’s a pleasure to look back and see what past Octavia was thinking.

Alas father, another pony has decided to join me here at the bus stop. Though I am not one for much socializing, this one seems rather interesting. She is a unicorn with a delightful purple mane with a pink streak. She looks informed. She has a saddlebag attached to her waist and is setting it down on the floor next to her. She is pulling out a few pages and looking them over intently. Oh my, look at me! This is absolutely stalker like of me to record every little detail about this poor, unsuspecting mare! Very uncomforting if she were to find out.

My word, she found out. As I was writing, it seems our little pony could not help but snoop her little inquisitive muzzle over my shoulder. How dreadful it was to explain to her the reasons for my notes. I of course did not delve into detail, but this one has a good head on her shoulders. She understood what this was all about. Luckily, she seems to be at ease about it, and even asked if I wanted to ask her any questions for my notes. Odd, I thought. But nonetheless, it was either an impromptu interview or spotting all of the red vehicles that pass down the street. I chose the former.

Her name is Twilight Sparkle. She is an apprentice of her Royal Highness, Princess Celestia. I must say, for somepony with almost direct access to the princess, I am quite charmed by her humble presentation. She isn’t snobby or stuck up. Neither is she a push over. She seems confident with a touch of grace. A very rare combination. She’s also very smart as I mentioned before. She lives inside the Ponyville library where all of her life’s work is accomplished. She is on direct command from Princess Celestia to record everything she discovers about friendship. I made an off shoot comment about how odd it sounded, and quickly apologized. She took no offense. In fact, she told me that was her exact sentiment when she first arrived in Ponyville. However, after battling and succeeding against the Nightmare Moon with the aid of her five best friends, she came to comprehend the true power of friendship. She now has a deep, vested desire in finding out the true potential of her friendship with the other five bearers of the Elements of Harmony. I asked her what she has found out so far. Her eyes became very wide. Her mouth slowly formed a crescent smile that both shocked and frightened me. The next five minutes were a barrage of words and terms that reminded me of chemistry class first year. I nodded quite a bit then and did the same now.

I asked where she was from. I was surprised to hear that we both originated from the city of Canterlot. I asked her which district. Once again, we shared the same district. I had to know where she went to elementary school, in hopes that perhaps we were classmates without even knowing it. Unfortunately she didn’t. What a joy it would have been to match three for three, but still, it’s not every day you run into a complete stranger who grew up where you did. A delightful conversation ensued about familiar landmarks and pleasant memories. Canterlot Park was the first place to come out of her mouth, and how could I forget such a majestic place? The tall red trees lining the circular dirt path surrounding a large lake that burst with fowl and fish. Seaport Village was another name that brought out the nostalgia in the form of sighs. The lovely little shops that dotted the pristine boardwalks and the bright white sands that always warmed and never burned. And who could forget the clear blue waters of the mighty Equus Ocean. I can still taste the salty air and hear the thunderous claps of the crashing waves. I remember as a filly running up to the edge of the shoreline and stopping just before the cool waters tickled my hooves. What a wonderful feeling we both share at this lone and desolate bus stop.

The next logical question of course was why she was taking the bus in Canterlot. Surely of all ponies, a unicorn could manage to travel all over Equestria without the use of public transportation. How lovely it must be to teleport at will, whilst us earth ponies gag with ferocity inside a waste basket with four wheels. She’s just curious. Really, of all the possibilities running rampant in my mind, this was one of the weaker ones getting trampled all over.

The bus has arrived and we are both seated in the front, side by side. This bus is much more crowded than the morning bus. It is also filled with tens of schoolchildren. We were lucky to find a pair of seats so close to the entrance. Many ponies are standing in the hallway, using one hoof to grip the overbar. It is quite amusing to see them try to keep their balance in such an unpredictable mode of transportation. Even Twilight agrees with me as dictated by her stifled giggles.

We continued our interview as best we could. It was hard to hear amongst the chatty teenagers. I asked Twilight about her living conditions. She said that the library is a wonderful place, complete with a room upstairs accommodating all her needs and even a small kitchen that’s placed so discreetly on the floor level that many a pony have missed it. Of course, her favorite room of the whole abode in a tree remains unwaveringly the library. This is where she spends most of her time researching magic, writing her reports to the Princess, and reading books of interest to pass the time. Before I could ask, she told me with a quirky smile not to even think about asking her what titles she favors most. I suppose the fact she lives inside a library should have tipped me off.

I then asked her if she lived alone or with somepony else. That question brought a grin to her face as she began to describe to me about her little assistant, Spike. By the way she describes him, it seems to me he is a very keen helper with an eye for detail and a stomach for jewels. I always wondered what the diet of dragons was. He can also be a tad jealous at times, and he is very sensitive about his position as number one assistant. Still, as Twilight recounts for me, she loves him very much and says that there is never a day that passes when she is not grateful for her little helper. I asked her how old Spike is, which she gently responds that while he’s still a baby, he is already beginning to outgrow his little basket bed. She tells me that while she knows Spike will not be little forever and that he will have to choose his own path when that time comes, she cannot bear to think upon running the library without the light patter of small dragon feet eagerly following close. The sparkle in her eye subsided a little after her last comment.

To lighten the mood a bit, I asked about her work with the Princess. I had to pause for her answer as some misguided pony bucked my cello case for no apparent reason. Luckily no damage was done. Twilight cleverly used that to describe how she was feeling about working with the Princess. Bucked. I wasn’t expecting that answer coming from a pony who dedicated her whole life to the princess’s service. She seemed teeming with joy and excitement when she was telling me about what she discovered about friendship. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I asked her to expound.

Well, I certainly fail as a friend. Not that I ever considered initiating a relationship with Twilight, but if I did I wouldn’t know the first thing about cheering somepony up. What I intended to spark a sweet conversation turned out to be a bitter confrontation. It turns out that the talented unicorn is at odds in her heart with the regal teacher and feels bound with no way to escape. She doesn’t know to deal with it as this marks the first instance of such opposition between the two. She’s tense now, and I for one do not blame her.

After a few moments of silence, she spoke with a slight gruff in her voice. Apparently, a mishap involving a first year magic student set up the self-constructed boundary between the star pupil and her teacher. He was caught looking through top secret archives, and as punishment the Princess banished him from reregistering as a student of the prestigious Canterlot School of Magic. The unicorn pled his case, stating in her royal highness’s presence that he was merely looking for a spell to reverse a cancerous growth that had afflicted his poor mother for years since his birth. In fact, the doctors believed that his birth was the cause of the growth. When a cure was not found, he made it his goal to study hard all throughout school so he could have a breathing chance at entering the Princess’s prestigious institution one day and learn all he could about magic to give his mother a breathing chance at life. Celestia would not overturn her decision, and thus the young stallion was never seen on campus again. His mother died a few days later.

This was the reason why she elected to see the Princess today. She wanted to let her thoughts and feelings about the decision made known. However, she’s so scared about the results of such confrontation; she wanted to take the bus to give some time to think. I asked why she didn’t just think in the comfort of her home before teleporting to the princess’s quarters. She said she would never have the strength to move after giving the situation more thought, and that by taking the bus she’d have to go. It was her way of motivating herself to do the unthinkable, she couldn’t turn back now. She was already on her way. She wanted the truth. She wanted answers.

I asked her what she thought of the situation. She simply looked at me with those large purple eyes that sparkled with life not ten minutes ago. She didn’t need to say a single word. Her face said it all. She was torn. Her entire career she’d been Celestia’s number one supporter and everything her master teacher said and did, she was always there to nod in approval. Every word she spoke was a sonnet of wisdom. Every step taken was a path to follow. Every day lived was history to pen down. In her words, she was a goddess to me.

Now however, she fears a bit of turmoil brewing in her heart. While she understands that the law of the land must be upheld, she couldn’t understand why the punishment the young stallion received was deemed fair. He was simply doing a service to his dying mother. Wouldn’t she expect the same from her? Not that the Princess would fall ill to that extent. Celestia knows how she keeps her youthful appearance after a thousand years. She feels that the Princess’s decision to maintain the permanent suspension, even after staring into the face of defiant love and loyalty, was unacceptable. It led to many sleepless nights. It led to countless overdue friendship reports.

We paused for a moment so Twilight could pull out her pages from her saddlebag. This time it was me snooping over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of this prized information. To my gleeful surprise, she too had printed an itinerary of her trip to the Royal Palace. I could not contain my excitement as I too pulled out my itinerary and showed them to her. We shared a few chuckles of relief, realizing we weren’t alone in our quest for a smooth traveling experience. It was good to see her smile again. I was afraid I had dampened her feelings and reversed whatever resolve she had to talk to the princess. She pulled on the cord and got up from her seat, careful not to bump into anypony. We said our goodbyes and she kindly invited me to stop by the Ponyville library one day. She had an entire section dedicated to the musical works of famous composers such as Amaredeus Mozart and Tchaihorseky. I said I would try my best. The bus came to a stop and off the magical unicorn went to face her fears. To face her teacher. To face life itself.

An interesting thought just occurred to me, father. Are the princesses we dearly serve goddesses? Are they truly descendants of deity, or are they mere mortals like us? My discussion with Twilight Sparkle makes me doubt everything I’ve believed up to this point. I would like to believe that goddesses could heal all and feel compassion on their subjects who carry heavy burdens in their hearts. Surely, the raiser of the sun could resurrect the life of this mother who clearly meant the world to this unicorn and done her part in being a good mother. And beyond that, why would a healing spell be kept safeguarded from millions of loyal subjects who tire of their afflictions? What is her reasoning for keeping them hidden? Is it possible that perhaps there is more to those spell secrets that nopony knows? Or worse yet, perhaps there is less to their powers than they present them to be. Could it be that the princesses that we serve and protect as goddesses are nothing more than an illusion of hope, and that they are really just physically gifted circus performers meant to entertain us until our bitter end? How much of the fault lies in their act? How much of the fault lies in our blind obedience?

Alas, my stop is within eyesight and I was beaten to the punch by a young mare. Seriously, some ponies treat the pulling of the cord like some sort of race with a prize for having the quickest reaction. Could it be that we all see life as a game? Is there any fruitful meaning to life aside from survival? My, such depressing thoughts! My doctor will have a field day with me today! Until next time father.

Octavia

Comments

[Krass McWriter]

Dear god, this is excellent.

You sir deserve a brownie.

[Dubs Rewatcher]

I'm telling you, get this on EqD! It deserves more views than it has!

Loving it so far!

[Whirring Gears]

I wasn't sure what to expect after the first chapter. Maybe just some of Octavia's nervousness with comical interruptions of her writing.

This went above and beyond my expectations. I can't wait to see more.

[TheDorkside99]

436153
I would like nothing more! However, I also know that for multi-parters, they want at least a few parts completed before it gets sent in. So I will comply with their commands.

I am so glad you're enjoying it!

[RainEyes]

I really liked the Introduction chapter so I already held high hopes, but this chapter turned out to be far better than what I could possibly imagine.
Brilliant work.
I'm eager to see how you are going to continue from here.

[Agarwaen]

Omg must know what's wrong with Lyra. She's going to be ok right? You're going to make me worry about her. QQQQQQQQQ.

[Lucky Roll]

Finally have the time to read a new chapter! I also had to wait almost half an hour today in a bus stop, just like our hero here. Delicious irony.

This writing is certainly unique, even if the concept of ponies having internet somehow feels a bit off to me. Also, I still can't decide if I like this kind of Celestia. Regardless, I love hypocrite Octavia! She most certainly doesn't have any prejudices.

There are two things I'd like to mention, however: first, at the part where Octavia's talking with Twilight on the bus, a few sentences are in present tense, while the others are in past. I'm not a native English speaker, so maybe I'm wrong, but this seems kinda fishy to me.
And second, at the end of the first half of the fic, you, or rather, Octavia, uses the name "Lyra", even though she shouldn't know it. She always referred her earlier as "green unicorn" and the like.

[waxlemon]

what I could glean from the way Lyra’s mouth revealed
Octavia suddenly knows Lyra's name?

Edit: Oh. Above already noted it.

[Apocalypse Pony]

Woah, I'm starting to like this!

[Apocalypse Pony]

I hope you make Octavia checking in on the aftermath of Twilight's confrontation with Celestia a future chapter

[Captain Literal]

a chello? its a contrabass dummy! still besides that it is well written.

[Atheron]

You know, I checked this on a whim because the title intrigued me.

Now, I regret nothing. This is awesome.

[Darkly Smoulder]

Those composer puns made me cringe...

[Shire Folk]

Well, this is certainly a gem. I like this style quite a lot, and can hear Octavia's voice from Epic Wub Time flowing all the way through it, intermingled with Twilight Sparkle's. Since I'm a regular on city buses, the whole thing is rather, well, personal. I can see it all happening from any angle in the bus, and now I can even see all those ponies standing up and pulling on the cord and I've got a picture of Octavia writing in her journal while Lyra and Bon Bon are sitting together.

God above this is a jewel of a find.

May the Grace of the Valar Protect You

Shire Folk

P.S. I'm hoping to see more of Twilight later.

[TheDorkside99]

560338
Wasn't the voice acting done for Octavia an absolute heart throb?!

How cool would it be to hear the journal entries done with that epic voice? Oh well, one can dream I suppose.

Thanks for the comments

[Alondro]

Well, we do know now that Celestia (and by relation, Luna) are not as powerful as we assumed.

Only Discord truly has powers that rival a god's... wow... that's a disturbing thought.

[Clockwise Gear]

But... but... what about Lyra? Is she going to be okay? What's wrong? And for that matter, why did Octavia call her "Lyra" when she (presumably) didn't know her name?
I demand answers!

[TheDorkside99]

625832
iambrony.jsmart.web.id/mlp/gif/133504993218.gif

[TylerK]

This exceeds any expectations I can come up with. The characterization is not only extremely original, but also very consistent with the overall feel of the environment. I instantly felt connected to every character and their heart wrenching circumstances. Every character invokes so much interest, that I want to read from their own points of view. This gem is definitely a cut, or two, or ten above the rest.

[AppleTank]

Hehe, Internet.
Also, you might want to modify the dialogue between Twi and Doctor, how "she was a goddess to me"
Shouldn't it be *to her*?

[Octavio the Umbreon]

You captured Octavia's class and socially-awkwardness perfectly. i give you..10 mustaches

[Midway]

when i first read the description i was sceptical twoards this. but after reading 2 chapters i must say i really do like it :)