19. Spark Redux
Octavia had no destination in mind—there were no errands she had to run, nothing to do downtown, no practical reason to even leave the apartment that day. She just wanted to walk. Minutes passed as Octavia wandered from street to street, only seeing a scant few ponies around, but even then they seemed too busy in their own world to acknowledge her. It was almost disappointing; she had wanted to see the reaction that she would get from the ponies of Canterlot.
Eventually she came to a crossroads near downtown and paused. Even here, not as many ponies were out and about as she expected, and she was almost tempted to just turn around and go home, but she stopped as she took stock of where she was. Off in the distance, she could make out an opening in the streets and a single grey statue standing tall in the center. Octavia slowly trotted down the street, the statue ever growing in her view, until it was right in front of her.
She sat down on the street and quietly looked over the statue. Apart from a few little scratches here and there, it was just as flawless as it was when it had first been revealed months ago. Octavia had never taken the time to really examine it, but it struck her now just how detailed it was: every feather had been meticulously carved, the crown looked regal despite its grey color, and the tail was sculpted in such a way that still created a sense of movement. It really was a magnificent statue.
“It’s not the same when it isn’t green, is it?” a voice said.
Octavia snapped out of her trance and looked around. Standing next to her was a pony with an elegantly coiffed blue mane and a styled suit, who was also looking over the statue.
“No, it isn’t,” Octavia replied. “But it’s quite nice this way, too.”
“I read the column you penned in the Canterlot Times,” Fancy Pants said as. “It was quite illuminating, I must say.”
“Thank you.”
“For whatever it is worth,” Fancy Pants continued, “I really did enjoy the majority of your artwork. I never would have expected that it started on a whim, however. I guess I just assumed this was something some artist had been planning for some time.”
Octavia shook her head. “No… just a bit of stress relief. At first, anyway.” She looked over at Fancy Pants to find that he was now looking directly at her.
“I can only hope that this isn’t the end of what you’ve been doing,” he said, his voice quiet, but sincere. “I think much of what you have done has been astounding; it is precisely the kind of art that Canterlot needs more of, and I hope to see more of it.”
“I appreciate the sentiment,” Octavia replied, “and my hope is that I get to continue as well. However, it’s still a bit up in the air, depending on… well, depending on how Canterlot reacts, I suppose.”
“Understandable,” Fancy Pants said. “I for one certainly hope that the reaction is a positive one.”
With a confident smile, Fancy Pants turned and trotted off down the path that Octavia had entered through. She watched as he shrunk into the distance, then looked back at the statue. For a minute she sat quietly and looked it over, then pushed herself up to her hooves.
“No more stalling,” she muttered to herself as she trotted around the statue. “I know one place where there are sure to be ponies out right now.”
—————
The Canterlot Outdoor Market, as always, was a bustling and thriving section of the city. Ponies were walking every which way to various booths and blankets where others were selling everything from fresh vegetables to artwork. Since many ponies were also out to grab food for lunch during mid-day break, the market was as busy as it would ever get during the day.
Octavia stood right at the outskirts of the market, hesitant.
When she had left the apartment, she had been so full of confidence, ready to face Canterlot for the first time. But actually being there—actually seeing all the ponies right in front of her—was giving her doubts.
After what I did, they might not forgive me, she thought to herself. No, I’ve atoned and am trying to do the right thing again. But is that going to be enough? What if—
Her thoughts came to a grinding halt when she looked to her right and realized that a pony sitting behind a small table of radishes was staring directly at her. For a few moments their eyes were locked until the pony leaned over to the pony next to him and whispered something. The other pony looked over at Octavia, and the two continued mumbling to each other, neither one taking their eyes off of her. A frantic cry in the back of Octavia’s mind was telling her to just turn around and go home; the confidence she thought she had was quickly dissipating and she could feel her knees starting to tremble. But she swallowed her fright and took her first tentative steps forward.
As she strode further into the market, Octavia could feel more and more eyes on her. She kept her head up as she walked, trying her best to simply walk forward, but she couldn’t help but glance around her and see the number of ponies who were now noticing her and talking to each other. She tried to read their expressions without drawing attention to herself, but instead decided to just continue walking forward. After a few more steps a small crafts booth across the way caught her eye and she stopped.
The only items at the booth for sale were small and elegant, each one with its own unique contours and shapes. At the back of the booth a single pony sat, working on a much larger piece of marble on a table: she was carefully carving one part of it to resemble a pony’s tail. Octavia trotted up to the counter and cleared her throat.
“E-excuse me, Miss Chisel?”
Marble Chisel looked up from her sculpture. For a few seconds she looked at Octavia, before a slight smile crossed her face and she stood up.
“Hello… Octavia, is it?”
“Yes.”
“Nice to meet you face-to-face,” Marble continued. “I must say, finding out the most controversial artist in Canterlot is also a musician was not exactly what I was expecting. I figured you were a lesser-known artist looking to make a name for yourself. Anyways, did you want to discuss something?”
“I wanted to thank you for standing up for me at the town hall meeting,” Octavia said. “Having you say those things about my art, even after what I did to your statue… it really did mean a lot to me, and I think hearing the pony who made that statue support Flanksy really did a lot for Flanksy.”
Marble nodded. “When I said that I had never seen an artistic statement like yours, I meant every word of it. Even I will admit that being willing to express such a controversial opinion, and do it in such a public way, is something I could never do myself.”
“I really do appreciate that.” Octavia smiled at Marble, but her smile faltered as Marble looked directly into her eyes.
“I meant every word of it,” Marble said again, “but I hope you realize I also meant it when I said I wasn’t a fan of what you did to my statue.” Octavia glanced down at the ground as Marble continued. “I appreciated your message, but having it come at the expense of my own art was something I wasn’t fond of. And while I can’t speak for her, I can only assume that Chic Trend thought the same thing.”
Octavia slowly nodded her head. “I hadn’t quite figured out what I wanted to do as Flanksy yet. I’m sorry that it came at the expense of your own art.”
There was a long pause as neither pony said anything; Octavia awkwardly scuffed her hooves against the ground as Marble gathered her own thoughts. Octavia wasn’t sure what else to say and considered closing out the conversation and leaving, but Marble spoke up again.
“I certainly hope that for whatever you do next, you don’t do it at the expense of another artist.”
Octavia looked up. “What I do next?”
Marble looked back at her. “Well, yes. Something more like the murals you created on walls. I was expecting a return to those.”
“Even after everything I did?” Octavia asked.
Marble nodded. “Unless I read the letter wrong, you seem remorseful for what you did. Ponies deserve second chances, especially ones who have done so much for the art scene in Canterlot. I hope other ponies feel the same way, really.”
Another pony trotted up next to them and began to look over one of the small sculptures that was being sold; Marble momentarily turned her attention to them. She handed a few bits over to Marble, who began to wrap the statue in bubble wrap. As she did, the pony looked over at Octavia.
“Oh, hello,” she said with a smile. “Interesting article you had in the paper.” She turned back as Marble handed the statue to her, and with a nod she trotted off. Octavia watched her leave, then looked back at Marble, who was putting the bits away in a small box. Marble looked up at her.
“Is everything alright?” Marble said.
Octavia nodded. “Just… thank you. It really means a lot to hear you say that you want me to continue. To be honest, I hadn’t quite decided if I was going to yet.”
Marble smiled back at her. “Canterlot could always use more art. I wouldn’t want Flanksy to go away... if anything, I’m more curious than ever to see what’s going to come next.”
“Well as far as ‘Flanksy’ goes, I’m done with that,” Octavia replied. “The costume, that is. If…” she trailed off and looked back at the market. Ponies were still going about their day, but now she noticed something else beyond the market, on the nearest wall. Although the buildings around it were bright and colorful, this building was dull and grey. Its plainness stood out like a sore hoof. She looked back at Marble and smiled slyly. “When I return to art, I’m going to do it as me. No more disguises.”
Marble chuckled. “Bit of a shame, I liked the mysterious look.”
Before Octavia could reply, she felt a hoof on her shoulder.
“Excuse me, miss.”
Octavia turned around to find herself looking into the eyes of a royal guard. The guard glanced around, then leaned in closer.
“I’m going to have to ask you to leave the market.”
Octavia’s eyes widened and she looked back at Marble, who seemed just as surprised. Octavia took a deep breath and looked directly into the guard’s eyes.
“You can’t tell me to leave when I’m doing nothing wrong,” she said. “I am already paying for my crimes, that does not mean I have to remain—“
“No no,” the guard said. “I’m not telling you as a guard, I’m asking you, pony-to-pony, to leave. I really don’t want there to be a scene.”
“I am not causing a scene!” Octavia hissed under her breath.
The guard shook his head. “I’m not referring to you.”
“What?” Octavia said. “Then who?”
The guard looked around again nervously. “Well, Prince Blueblood is at the market right now. He has not been in a good mood since your piece ran in the Canterlot Times. I personally think he realizes that there’s nothing else he can do, and actually seeing you here… I don’t think it’s what he wants right now.”
Octavia shook her head. “I do appreciate your concern, but I’m not about to act any different just because he’s here. Besides, he said he wanted Flanksy dead, right? Well, as far as both he and I are concerned, Flanksy is dead.
The guard didn’t say anything for a second, then nodded. “Alright. Thank you anyways.”
The guard turned and walked back into the crowd, leaving Octavia alone. She looked over at Marble Chisel, who just shrugged as another pony walked up to her and pointed at one of the pieces she was selling. Octavia gave her one last nod, then turned and walked back through the market. She only took a few steps before she looked across the street again at the large grey building. Even with all the ponies around and the general din of the market, everything else seemed to fade as she looked past the booths to the blank wall.
Almost immediately, she could feel a spark dancing lightly about in the back of her mind. A smile curled across her face as she started walking back the way she came through the market. As she was nearing the end of the booths, she noticed a few ponies gathered around one spot on a far wall. In between them was a familiar pony, smiling as she chatted with one of them, her magic holding a paint brush next to her. Octavia turned and began to walk towards the group.
“YOU!”
Octavia stopped dead in her tracks as the voice pierced the air of the market, causing a hush to fall over the area. She slowly turned around to find herself looking at Prince Blueblood. There was fury burning in his eyes as he stormed straight through the crowd and put himself right in Octavia’s face, their noses practically touching. Octavia instinctively backed up to get away from him but Blueblood followed her, his face shaking in rage. Almost immediately Octavia could see ponies stopping what they were doing and watching in shock.
“What in Celestia’s name are you doing here?!” he practically screamed. “You have a lot of nerve to show your face in Canterlot again!”
Octavia took a deep breath and looked Blueblood directly in the eyes. “I am just wandering around downtown,” she said calmly. “I’m doing nothing wrong.”
“You being in Canterlot is wrong!” Blueblood yelled right back. “You think that little stunt you pulled in the newspaper is going to change anything? You’re still a criminal!”
“And I am paying for my crimes,” Octavia said. “But that does not mean that I have to remain in my home during it. Do you just expect me to shelter myself away?”
“Who said anything about your home? If I had my way, you’d never be allowed in Canterlot again!!”
Blueblood continued to advance on Octavia as she tried to remain calm. A massive crowd of ponies had formed around them and she did not want to sink to Bluebloods level in public. Instead, she turned around and began to walk away, hoping to just get away from the situation.
“You cannot just walk away from me! I am the prince of Canterlot!” he screamed after her. “And you’re nothing! You’re just some pathetic excuse of an artist and a pathetic excuse of a pony!!”
Octavia stopped dead in her tracks as the words rang in her head. Her hooves shook as she turned around and stared daggers into Blueblood’s face. As she stepped forward, a single thought went through her mind.
To heck with it… there’s already a scene.
“You will not talk to me like that!” she screamed. “I don’t care how angry you are, how big of a temper tantrum you throw, how big of a scene you try to make in public… the only thing that you could do against me, I took away. And I am not going to stand here and allow you to call me pathetic!”
“That’s bold talk coming from a pony who so openly insulted others,” Blueblood said.
Octavia took a deep breath and stepped forward. She and Blueblood were now nose-to-nose once again, neither one willing to flinch.
“That may be true,” Octavia said, “but I had the common decency to understand my mistakes and apologize for them. But knowing everything I do about you, you’ll never apologize for anything you’ve done.”
“That letter was not you ‘understanding your mistakes!’” Blueblood said. “That was you trying to cover for yourself so you can go back to what you love to do and ruin Canterlot.”
The word “ruining” set something off in the back of Octavia’s mind as she looked at the crowd. Ponies were gathered in a circular crowd around the two of them in silence, watching. Standing right at the front of the group was Amethyst Star, her eyes wide as saucers as she watched the scene unfold. Octavia turned back to Prince Blueblood, her face no longer shaking.
“There are ponies who do not like what I have done,” she quietly said. “There are ponies who have been inspired by what I did. I have done things that I will cherish for the rest of my life, and I have done things that I truly regret. But I can assure you of one thing: I have never tried to ruin Canterlot. Even with the… the horrible things I did to other ponies, it was never my intention to do harm to Canterlot. So do not tell me that I enjoy ruining Canterlot, because if you truly believe that, you’re more delusional than I thought.”
Blueblood, for once, had no response: he just stood quietly. Octavia turned away for a second, then began to pace in front of him.
“You were right for knocking sense into me when I had lost sight of why I love this,” she continued, “but to then hang a threat over my head, to try to take everything away from me just based on your own hatred for what I do? You’re not mad now because I’m going to continue. The only reason you’re mad is because you know that your attempt to blackmail me into stopping failed.”
Many of the ponies gathered muttered to each other as Blueblood began to sweat. He looked around awkwardly, then cleared his throat.
“I d-did that because I was acting—“
“Don’t!” Octavia yelled. “You know what? Ever since I began all this, you and I have gone back and forth endlessly. I don’t want that anymore. I don’t want to deal with you anymore, Blueblood. Let me make this very clear to you.”
She once again got directly in the face of Prince Blueblood. He briefly averted his eyes, but Octavia waited a few moments until he was looking directly at her again.
“I’ve made my mistakes, I’m atoning for my sins, and I have sight of what I should have been doing all along. But you? You are just as stubborn and rude as the first time you and I ever had issues. I am done with you. I’m done trying to fight you, I’m done trying to prove you wrong. I said it in the letter, and I’ll say it to your face: Flanksy is gone. You can give yourself a little pat on the back, because she’s never returning. But my art is going to continue. I am going to continue to create, because it’s my harmony. And there is nothing you can do to stop it.”
With one final nod to Blueblood, Octavia turned and walked away, the crowd dispersing around her as she left. Blueblood was left alone in the middle of the ponies, looking around awkwardly at the ponies who were now slowly turning their attention to him. He stuttered a few times to find something to say before he turned and quietly walked the other direction, his royal guards following behind him.
As Octavia reached the edge of the market, she let out a long sigh. She momentarily glanced over her left shoulder to see that a few ponies were still watching her, but many had gone back to what they were doing, talking quietly to each other. Beyond them she could just barely make out the black wall on the far side of the market.
“Hey,” a voice came from her right. Octavia turned to find Amethyst Star standing next to her.
“Oh, hello.”
“Did you mean what you said back there?” Amethyst asked with a hopeful smile. “Are you definitely going back to your art?”
Octavia nodded. “Absolutely. I’m not sure how soon I’ll return to it, but I—“
She didn’t get the chance to finish her sentence before Amethyst grabbed her around the neck in a hug.
“T-thank you,” Amethyst said. “Thank you so much.”
As Amethyst broke the hug, Octavia smiled. “To be honest, no matter what my decision was, I’m quite looking forward to seeing more of your art.”
Amethyst Star’s eyes sparkled like a filly’s on Hearth’s Warming Eve. “You are?”
“Absolutely,” Octavia said, before gesturing behind Amethyst. “And by the looks of it, I’m not the only one.”
Amethyst looked back to where Octavia was pointing to see that numerous ponies were now standing near where she had been selling her art. Many of them were watching her and Octavia talk, but some were looking through the paintings she had created and commenting to each other. Amethyst looked back to Octavia, who just nodded at her, then turned and walked off. Amethyst stared after her for a few seconds, unable to hide the tears that were forming in her eyes, before quickly wiping them away and galloping back towards her paintings.
—————
Octavia stared at the papers spread around the table in front of her; the various designs drawn on them completely distinct in their coloring, pattern, and style. She picked up a few of them and compared their designs, then sighed and put them down before picking up a few more.
Vinyl poked her her head out from the kitchen. “Anything yet?”
Octavia shook her head, but smiled. “No, but that’s just fine. I don’t want to rush this, Vinyl. When I return to art, I’m going to do it when it feels right.”
Vinyl nodded. “Makes sense.” Octavia went back to her sketch pad and began to draw something again as Vinyl sat down next to her. She picked up one of the sketches herself. “Man,” Vinyl said. “When you get back into this, you are going to be busy. I don’t think Canterlot is going to have any blank walls left.”
“I don’t want to cover every inch of Canterlot,” Octavia said with a chuckle. “I’m not even thinking that far ahead. I just want to think about what the first step will be, that’s all. It’s just a matter of how—” She didn’t finish as there was a knock at the front door.
“I got it,” Vinyl said as she jumped up to her hooves. Octavia returned to her sketch pad, taking a colored pencil in her hoof and filling in one of the corners. After a few seconds she heard the door open, then another pause.
“Hey, uh, Tavi?” Vinyl called. “Um… it’s for you.”
Octavia put the pad down and walked to the front door. As she arrived, she stopped dead in her tracks.
Vinyl was standing at the door, a mixture of confusion and concern on her face. And outside the door stood Princess Celestia’s protégé: Twilight Sparkle. For a moment, a thick, awkward silence hung in the air, until Twilight finally broke it.
"Good, I have the right apartment," Twilight said. "Can I come in?"
Octavia blinked. "Sure," she said.
Twilight trotted into the apartment. She stood awkwardly until Octavia gestured towards the couch. As they sat down, Vinyl Scratch coughed.
"Uh, I think I hear my room calling. I'll leave you two alone," she mumbled before hurriedly walking away. There was a long silence in the room as Octavia and Twilight Sparkle glanced around for a bit, both nervous to be the first to speak.
"You came all the way to Canterlot to talk to me?” Octavia asked.
“I saw your open letter in the Canterlot Times a few days ago,” Twilight replied. “I was originally going to write you, but after talking it over with my friends, I figured talking to you directly would be better.”
“How did you even find my address?”
Twilight blushed a bit. “I still had your papers from your community service work in Ponyville. A lot of your information was on there, including your address.”
“I see,” Octavia said. Twilight looked down at the table covered in sketches and Octavia followed her gaze as Twilight’s eyes fell on the sketch pad and colored pencils that Octavia had been working with.
“So the reason I’m here,” Twilight finally said, “is because of what you said to us when you left Ponyville. You kinda said a lot to us, but we didn’t get the chance to say anything in return.”
“Yes,” Octavia quietly replied. “I really just wanted to get my piece in.”
“Well now it’s time for our piece. We’ve done some talking, and we have something to say to you too.”
Octavia nodded. She looked over at the table and scanned all the drawings that she had made, eventually looking at the same one Twilight had been looking at: the half-colored mural in her sketchbook. She didn’t look Twilight in the eyes, she just waited for her to continue.
“We’re sorry, too.”
Octavia looked up at Twilight, to find that the Element of Harmony had an apprehensive smile on her face. “Y-you are?”
“I mean, we’re not about to forgive you just like that for what you did to us. Not yet, anyway,” Twilight continued. “But at the same time… we understand what we did wrong, too. And we think that since you apologized to us, you deserve an apology, too. So, we’re sorry.”
Octavia looked into the sincere eyes of Twilight. “I-I,” she stuttered, then paused again as she broke her gaze and looked down at the sketch pad. She ran her hoof along the drawing, then finally looked back up at Twilight, smiling.
“I… Hearing that means a lot to me,” Octavia said.
“But there’s something else I wanted to say,” Twilight said. “I know that you said you didn’t like us. And while I guess I can understand why… we don’t want you to feel like we are ignorant of our mistakes.
“You came all the way to Canterlot to tell me this? Even after everything I did to you?”
“Like I said, we’re not ready to forgive you,” Twilight continued. “But we don’t want there to be any negativity between us. That’s what made everything from this situation get so horrible. So that’s the other reason I’m here… I’m hoping we can bury the hatchet.”
Silence once again filled the room as Octavia struggled to find the right words. She eventually sighed. “I just want to move on from everything, but it’s going to take time,” Octavia said.
She looked back over at Twilight and found herself staring at an extended hoof. It was accompanied by a smile by the unicorn.
“Well, maybe this could be a start?” Twilight said.
Octavia looked back down at the extended hoof. A smile appeared on her face as she slowly reached out and returned the hoofshake.
“Yes,” she said. “This is a wonderful start.”
The two ponies held the hoofshake for a bit in silence, but the awkwardness that had plagued the room was gone; Octavia could feel herself breathing easier, and there was a sense of slight relief on Twilight’s face. Finally they broke the grasp, and Twilight stood up from the couch.
“That’s all I had to say. I’m meeting Princess Celestia for lunch; I’m sure she’ll be interested in hearing about this.” Twilight said.
“I’m sure she will, too.” Octavia led Twilight to the front door and held it open for her, but as Twilight stepped through, she glanced back.
“By the way,” Twilight said, “Ponyville really liked your mural.”
Octavia blinked a few times, unsure of what to say. “They did?”
Twilight nodded. “Quite a lot, actually. We think it’s a nice addition to the town. So, thank you for that. We plan on keeping it up for a while.”
With one last smile, Twilight trotted away. Octavia stood in silence in the doorway and watched as Twilight disappeared down the street. From behind, Octavia could hear the door to Vinyl’s room opening, and the sound of hoofsteps.
“She’s gone?” Vinyl asked. “So, what did she want?”
Octavia continued to look off down the street, where Twilight was no longer visible. She slowly closed the door and returned to the couch.
“The same thing that I wanted,” Octavia said, picking up her sketch pad and looking out the window with a smile on her face. “Closure.”
—————
Octavia lay wide awake in bed. The moon had long since ascended into the sky, yet she wasn’t tired in the least. She couldn’t place exactly why she wasn’t tired, but in the back of her mind, she knew that she wasn’t getting to sleep any time soon. She rolled over and looked at the clock on the wall: 2:19 AM. She sighed and rolled over again, burying her face in the pillow in one last attempt to force herself to sleep, but after a few minutes of silence she sighed and rolled out of bed, giving up entirely.
She carefully opened the door to her bedroom and trotted into the main room of the apartment. She could hear Vinyl’s snoring through the door to her room, so she carefully snuck past it and into the living room. Still scattered around the table were the drawings she had been working on all day, with her sketch pad sitting in the middle of it all. She turned on the lamp in the corner and sat down on the couch, picking the sketch pad up in her lap and looking over the picture.
It had taken the rest of the day, but she had finally gotten the drawing just how she wanted it, swirls of color and patterns within patterns filling the entire page. As she admired it, a thought crossed her mind: the grey building at the Canterlot Outdoor Market, its lifelessness standing out in the rest of the market.
“By the way, Ponyville really liked your mural.”
It suddenly occurred to Octavia just why she couldn’t sleep.
She took the sketch pad under her forehoof and grabbed a paper bag from the kitchen, then returned to her room and opened the closet. Inside was still a large stockpile of unused spray paint cans, and she grabbed as many of them as she could fit in the bag. She carefully slid the sketch pad into the bag and returned to the main room, carefully and silently opening and closing the front door before she took off into the night.
—————
The Canterlot Outdoor Market was a completely different place in the dead of night. Apart from the lanterns lighting the area, the entire market was still. The many booths that ponies used to sell their goods were barren, and would be for several more hours until ponies would file in early to claim the best booths. Octavia had never seen the market like this before; the stillness was all at once eerie, yet calming. She walked calmly down the center of the path, glancing around at the darkened surroundings until she got to her destination, where the large grey building stood to the side.
She worked her way between the booths until she stood directly in front of the building. She pulled the sketch pad out of the bag and set it up against the wall, then poured all of the paint cans out on the ground. They scattered all in front of the wall and she took the first one she could get her hoof on, then popped the lid off and stood in front of the wall.
A feeling of euphoria rushed through Octavia as she held the can up to the wall. She closed her eyes and let the feeling completely envelop her. It was a feeling that she was familiar with; it was what she had used to fuel her projects over the past several months, a feeling that she wanted to get back to any time she went out under the mask. But unlike any time before, she didn’t just want to use it to help her paint. She wanted the feeling to stay with her for as long as possible.
She pressed down on the nozzle of the can and drew the first long purple streak across the wall. The paint seemed to sparkle in the night and Octavia stepped back and admired it, no matter how simple it was. She didn’t want to just put the mural up tonight; she wanted to take her time with it. She glanced back down at her sketch pad and looked over the drawing that she had thought she had gotten down perfectly only a few minutes before. She looked back and forth between the single streak on the wall and the drawing before she reached out and took the pad in her hoof, then dropped it back into the bag.
“I don’t need this.” She smiled as she turned back to the wall and extended the purple line.
Minute after minute ticked by as Octavia kept spraying the wall. Soon, an hour had passed and the basic outline of her mural was starting to form. Ordinarily she would have gotten much further than this, but time wasn’t something she was concerning herself with. The night was still; there were no ponies about watching her. She was just there to paint.
She reached down for a new color when a voice startled her.
“Excuse me.”
Octavia turned around to find a night guard standing behind her. His bright yellow eyes briefly turned up to look over the wall, then back down to Octavia.
“I’m going to have to report this.”
Octavia shook her head. “I’m not doing anything wrong,” she said quietly.
“I understand that,” the guard replied, “but this isn’t an official Canterlot matter.”
“I don’t understand.”
“It’s in regards to Prince Blueblood,” the guard replied. “He specifically asked us to alert him the next time we saw Flanksy—that is, saw you—painting anywhere in the city.”
Octavia shook her head and turned back to the wall. “There’s nothing more he can do to me.”
“I think he knows that,” the guard said. “But he was insistent.”
“If that’s what he asked of you, there’s nothing I can do to stop it. Thank you for informing me.”
The guard nodded, then unfurled his black wings and took off towards Canterlot castle. Octavia looked back as he disappeared into the night, then took a can in her hoof once again and popped the top off.
—————
Octavia squinted at the town hall clock in the far distance. There was barely any light, and she could only make out that it was some time past 4 AM. She wasn’t too concerned with the time itself, though. She tried to make out the rough shape of the top of the clock, then smiled as she grasped the can in her hoof tighter and looked at the wall in front of her. The mural was coming together, but now came the details, and she carefully examined what she had just sprayed; she wanted to make sure that it looked on the wall exactly how it looked in her head.
“What is wrong with you?” came a voice from behind.
Octavia closed her eyes; she knew it was coming. That voice would pierce her ears once again. She resumed painting.
“Nothing,” she said. “I feel like I”m doing the right thing in Canterlot for the first time in a while, actually.”
“You’re not.”
“Yes, I’m well aware of your opinion. You made it especially clear at the market a few days ago.”
A hoof pressed down on her shoulder and spun Octavia around. Prince Blueblood stared down at her, his hoof pressing down on her shoulder. It was the first time Octavia had ever seen Blueblood not wearing any sort of fancy suit or anything elegant. The fury that she had seen days ago was still there, but behind it she could see a defeat in his expression, the last remnants of a pony who had fought and lost.
“Why do you keep doing this to me?” Blueblood asked.
“To you?” Octavia replied as she gestured to the mural behind her. “This has nothing to do with you. This is about me. This is about Canterlot.”
Blueblood didn’t say anything as Octavia turned back to the wall and returned to spraying. There was no noise but the sound of the paint shooting out of the can, until Blueblood began to pace back and forth behind her.
“Look, I get it, It seems Canterlot wants you to stay for now,” he said, pausing to sigh in frustration. “Celestia knows I don’t understand it, but if that’s how it’s going to be, fine. But something like this? A giant stain of an art piece in the center of one of the busiest areas of the city?”
When she heard the word “stain,” Octavia spun around .“Do not refer to my art like that. Do you know why I’m doing this? I’m doing this because I want to make Canterlot more beautiful.”
“With this filth?!” Blueblood shouted.
Octavia pointed at the mural. “Have you even looked at it?!”
Blueblood stared at her, then looked up at the mural. Much of it was similar to other murals she had done—great swirls of color stretching from end to end, interlocking with patterns that created a virtual tapestry of color—but Blueblood noticed something else about it. He looked at several larger shape that had been painted on top of the rest of the mural: spire-like shapes reaching as high as a pony could reach. A blue waterfall-esque cascade that spilled into blue waves on the right of the building. The middle of the drawing had a small building drawn with a clock tower extending halfway up.
Blueblood blinked. “Canterlot?” Octavia nodded, and Blueblood looked down at her. “Do you expect me to have some sort of grand reversal of opinion, simply because you’re drawing Canterlot?”
“I guess that would be too much to ask of you,” Octavia muttered
“I don’t care what you’re drawing,” Blueblood quickly snapped at her, “The mere fact that you’re putting it up is what the problem is here!”
“It’s only a problem for you!” Octavia yelled. “I know that there are ponies who dislike what I do. Hate it. But you are the only pony who has gone out of his way to try to end what I do. Other ponies, they have learned to live with me. Even a pony like Chic Trend moved on after what I did, and in hindsight, she would have every reason to despise me. But all you have done is hate! All you have done is campaign against me, try to stop me, try to convince other ponies that I am wrong and you are right. You’ve been wanting to rally all of Canterlot against me; well it’s not going to happen! I am here to stay, and there is nothing you can do about it!”
Octavia paused, then looked over at the wall. The mural that she had put the last several hours into and knew she would be putting in several more. As she looked over the tops of the buildings she had drawn, she felt her eyes get misty, and she smiled as she looked back at Blueblood.
“I admitted my mistakes, and am paying for them; I still have community service to finish, but more importantly, my musical career is likely on hold for quite a while,” she said as she wiped her eyes. “But I’m happy. I am really, truly happy with where I am. And I’m happy with this,” she said, pointing once again to the mural. “You love Canterlot so much? Then at least acknowledge that one of its residents is happier than she’s ever been in her life. And more importantly, understand that my motivations for things like this are not—that is, no longer—fueled by some desire to rebel against royalty or spread hatred. I just want to make this city more beautiful.”
There was silence again as Blueblood looked back at the mural. It felt as though an eternity passed before Blueblood eventually sighed, then looked back at Octavia.
“I don’t like you,” he said.
“Likewise.”
“I’ve never liked you, and I will never like what you do. Nothing you ever do will change that.”
Blueblood paused, as if fighting with a niggling thought in the back of his mind. Finally, he spoke again.
“But as you said, it appears that Canterlot has spoken. If it hadn’t, there would have been far more of an outcry after your article. And if you say your intentions are pure…” Blueblood trailed off, again fighting with his own thoughts. “...I suppose that I can believe you.”
Octavia smiled, but a curt look from Blueblood stopped the smile immediately. He stepped forward and stood over her.
“But understand something else,” he said. “There is a line that you overstepped long ago. You may be on the right side of it now, but I will always have my eye on you. The very moment that you step over that line again, I will be there. You may think that Canterlot is willing to forgive you, but I promise that if you ever descend into what Flanksy became again, they will not be nearly as forgiving. I still firmly believe you should be thanking your lucky stars for the punishment you got off with… if you ever step over that line again, I can personally promise you that you will not get off as lightly.”
Octavia slowly nodded her head. “I can understand that. I think we can live in agreement there.”
Blueblood nodded back; for a few seconds the only sound came from the quiet chirping of crickets. Blueblood looked at the mural one final time, then sighed.
“But as far as this goes…” he said as he gestured with his hoof towards the wall, “… you can continue.”
With one final nod, Prince Blueblood turned around and trotted away. As he disappeared into the darkness, Octavia watched silently after him, half-expecting to see him come back and continue the argument. As the seconds ticked by, though, she heard no more hoofsteps, nothing; she realized that Blueblood had really, truly left.
She couldn’t help but smile as she turned back to the wall, and took the paint can back in her hoof, then aimed it carefully at the clock tower she had been painting.
—————
“Oh, good morning, Indigo. Lovely kuzdus you have there.”
Indigo looked over at the pony who had suddenly joined her on their walk to the market. “Mornin’ Heirloom. Thank you kindly, I’ve been growin’ these for a while now, and this is as big as they’ll ever get. Whatcha selling today?”
“Not a whole lot, just some carrots and celery today. Next week I’m hoping to have some of my prize potatoes ready for market. You should see the size of them, they’re some of the biggest I’ve ever grown.”
“Well shoot, that’s great. Can’t wait to see ‘em!”
The ponies continued their pleasantries as they turned the corner to the market. The sun had only just come up and ponies were usually beginning to converge on the market, but as they walked into the market itself, all of the booths remained empty. They glanced around in confusion.
“Uh, where is everypony?
As they looked around, a lone figure trotted forward from the distance. She was carrying a bag in one hoof that was overflowing with cans, and had a content smile on her face. She strode up to the two ponies, and nodded.
“Good morning,” Octavia said as she trotted around them and exited the market. The two ponies both turned their heads to follow her, then went back to each other.
“Hey, wasn’t that…” Heirloom said, before she noticed a slight commotion coming from further in the market. “You don’t think…?”
With a quick nod, the two ponies took off further down the street. That had only galloped for a block or so before they saw a growing group of ponies standing near a building in the middle of the market. As they reached the group, both their eyes widened.
“Golly…”
The wall of the building in the middle of the market, usually grey, was now a spectrum of color. From side to side, a sprawling mural had been created; the bottom was made up of blue and green waves and the top was a combination of blue and purple, with images of the sun and moon drawn in on either side. Drawn on top of everything were images of Canterlot itself; multicolor spires stretching high into the “sky,” a great waterfall spilling not only to the bottom of the mural, but onto the cobblestone in front of the mural as well. Even Canterlot Town Hall was drawn in great colorful strokes, with the clock tower at the top shining golden rays in all directions.
As more and more ponies gathered to admire the massive mural, something else stood out. Along the cobblestone in front of the mural were two sentences written in golden letters. The ponies carefully stepped back to avoid getting any more paint on their hooves, and looked from afar at what had been written.
“THIS IS MY HARMONY. I WANT TO SHARE IT WITH YOU.”
—————
Octavia carefully closed the door to the apartment behind her. She could still hear Vinyl’s snores through the door so she tiptoed back to her room and shut the door behind her, then set her bag of empty cans in the closet. She reached in and pulled out her sketch pad, then tossed it onto her desk.
As rays of sun were finally high enough over the buildings to make it into her room, Octavia leaned back against the wall. She let the rays hit her body for a minute; it was nice to warm up after being in the chill Canterlot night for so long. When she opened her eyes, she found herself looking at corner of her room where her cello sat. She trotted over to it, then ran a hoof along the strings. A dulcet but toneless noise came from it, causing her to smile; any sort of noise from her cello was enough to make her happy. As she picked up her bow, a feeling of euphoria flowed through her. It was one she had always felt whenever she played on her cello. She briefly considered drawing it against the strings, but stopped when she thought about Vinyl, still sound asleep in her room. For a few seconds she wondered if she could play something soft, but as she pondered, her eyes fell on the sketch pad on her desk.
She blinked a few times, then slowly put the bow down and trotted to the desk, picked up the pad, and sat down on her desk. She opened it up and began to flip through the pages full of hundreds of drawings. She had only used a hoofful of them over the past several months. All of them were crying out to be used now.
The feeling of euphoria got stronger.
She reached out to her desk and took a pencil, then smiled as she found a half-finished sketch buried in one of the later pages of the book. She began to fill it in, drawing long extravagant strokes on the page. She glanced up at her cello one last time. She loved music. Music was one of the most important things in her life.
But for once, for the first time in her life, music could wait. Music would have to wait.
Because in the back of her mind, sparks were igniting.
----------
End of Chapter 19: Spark Redux
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I'm gonna say this once. Thank you for the wild adventure.
Shining Armor needs to figure out how to get Blueblood's meddling out of the royal guard. It might not be possible given his position, but he's really been abusing their services for his private concerns for a while now.
Still trying to figure out how to use spray paint cans with hooves.
Beautiful.
Hard to read, what with all the tears getting in the way.
Wow! These last two chapters have me captivated. Funny, how we wish for more chapters to come faster, but it's always a bittersweet feeling when you get to the end of such an amazing story. Thank you TheBrianJ. Your story has been very fun and very heartwarming.
One little error I noticed.
"That had only galloped for a block or so before they saw..."
I think you meant "They had..."
Beautiful.
I would be lying to say that I was anything but captivated. A story that I only jumped on in its later phases, but still loved it like I never loved another story before. And yes, while it's sad to see it end, and I feel like some questions were a little skimped over, I can't help but smile, with the sense of closure it gave me. Thank you for the amazing story, TheBrianJ.
Yes... YES! This is what we've all been waiting for. The closure, the feels, the art! Onto the next chapter, I say!
Buuut...
Isn't the wall grey?
TAKE THAT BLUEBLOOD you should look at your shoes cause this is the agony of DA-feet
Why hello there, Inspector Javert.
Odd, the people who have commented with nothing but praise got a downvote...
Blueblood is on Fimfic now.
On an unrelated note, my phone started playing Titanium the moment the perspective switched, and it was Wonderful.
The next day, Canterlot was overcome by plant life. Pony civilization fell shortly afterwards.
All in all, quite the enjoyable read. I'll save my final thoughts for the epilogue... which, unfortunately, must wait until tomorrow. Sad day.
It isn't until now that I realise how blown out of proportion this is for him. I mean jeez, she sprayed paint in a bunch of places. Also with the line "I will always have my eye on you" can she have him done in for stalking?
4767741 earth pony skillz
paying the billz with said skillz is optional
you had a chance to fix and and ya blew it.
Ah, the story concluded!
Fine work, BrianJ. The ending(s) between the characters rather parallel one another, just as Octavia and Dash will never be friends or agree on things, but can life to tolerate one another, so can Octavia and Blueblood. It also turns on its head the usual notion of everyone ending a story on the best of terms. Though I think it could've been a small but poignant addition to have some more varied responses from the Canterlot crowd giving their opinions, for example, Fancy Pants liking the art but Fleur finding it crass. That makes the later statements about it still being controversial have a bit more heft and weight.
5165499
Canterlot is clearly not much for serious crime...
Or maybe they have plenty of criminals, but no potential political subversives.
4766828
Depends on the nature of the guard. A 'Household' guard, traditionally, exists primarily as a personal retinue, in which case errands and orders from on high are their principal concern, rather than a civil commitment as with a police or normal military regiment.
I first read this long ago when there were only a couple chapters, but decided to come back later and read it all in one go. A riveting read, and an awesome new take on our favorite musician.
I started long ago but never finished. Thank you for an awesome tale of art.
A very enjoyable read with an wonderful and original plot-line.
Great work.
I get a sense of euphoria just reading this incredible story.
But now im feeling an unrelenting sense of woe that it has to end.
Why do all good things have to end?
