Comfortable Solitude
There was no better delight in her otherwise morbid world than to return to the safety of home.
Without much stamina left to do much else, Octavia silently thanked herself for surviving another day at work. After unlocking and then opening the door with her muzzle, the mare shrugged the heavy door aside and trotted past the threshold into her apartment. When she had closed and locked the door, only then did the musician sighed her relief. It was all the mare could say to summarize the day she had.
Despite how tired she was, Octavia shrugged off the uncouth temptation to drop everything in a disorderly pile at the door. Even within the comfort of her own home, it was hard to break habits no matter how tired she felt. However as she entered the living room, the grey mare at least allowed herself to start bleeding off all the tension that had accumulated since this morning. It was the mare’s only concession to her routine, one that was occurring more often as she also allowed herself to canter around at a more sluggish pace.
On her way through the living room, Octavia stopped by the adjoining kitchen bench where she finally deposited a load of groceries she had picked up the way home. Free of that additional burden, the mare lazily passed through the set of double doors that lead to her bedroom. Once there, Octavia briefly thought about searching for a towel to dry herself off. Her journey home today had been marred by a downpour that had left the mare partially drenched. However the mare had to ignore that trivial problem and instead went to finish her routine by depositing her saddlebags and instrument. They had been burdening her back since she left the academy and by now her hooves ached for a rest.
Doing anything else came as a challenge after everything was put down, but Octavia struggled onwards as she reached for a towel. Even for such a trivial act, the mare could feel every ache despite her attempts at tolerance: from her hooves to her haunches, her legs were all asking for a chance to rest. Octavia’s did not wait a moment longer once dry and returned to the living room to find a place on one of her plush crimson sofas. The mare always felt instant physical elation every time she rested her aching body down on the smooth velvet covers.
Octavia felt guilty for the temptation, but then didn’t regret for an instant when she proceeded to roll onto her back and wriggled herself against the velvet, chafing her sore withers and dock against the sofa. Laying atop this most gentle of fabrics was not quite the same as going to a spa, but for a moment felt angelic and gave the desired effect of touching a few sore spots that needed a soothing rub. When she felt her guilt overpower the temptation to continue writhing on the sofa, Octavia collapsed to her side and left her hooves just hang over the edge.
After just a few more adjustments against a nicely stuffed cream pillow, the mare finally found herself in the ideal position to lay in an almost intoxicating relaxation. Octavia would have let herself slip into a comatose nap, but now that she had addressed her physical sores, the mare started to remember her mental ones. For the young mare it was becoming a depressing habit of hers and it seemed to Octavia that she was bringing home new stresses every day.
“It’s just getting worse,” Octavia sighed finally and closed her weary eyes and started to recount her day.
It felt like the problems all started this morning when she had to talk with her instructor. Octavia had long come to dread the fortnightly meetings, but this particular one had been unpleasant.
Sitting in the instructor’s office, Octavia again wished she could be anywhere else right now.
Once upon a time it had been a rather delightful part of her responsibilities as unofficial leader of the troupe she was assigned to, however Octavia’s enthusiasm had long since evaporated.
One major reason for the dislike was the now alarming frequency of times where she was being blamed for poor performance. Almost every time she came to see the instructor, there was something new for him to complain about. What made it worse was that it almost had to do with her ability to play the cello, rather something that she simply was taking responsibility for.
Today would prove to be no exception.
Octavia sat across from her instructor Mendel, a fellow earth pony with a keen sense for detail. He was not one that could be easily pleased and despised any attempting to curry favor. Mendel was also, like most instructors at the Royal Conservatorium, a rather a blunt-speaking pony who never sugar coated what he had to say. Overall this made him somepony Octavia could respect whenever she had something good to report. But in recent times he had unintentionally become a really frightening pony to talk with.
“I heard you played rather well at the charity dinner,” He started in his usual tone.
Right away Octavia sensed it was the voice he reserved for when he was about to cut a pony off at the hocks for a lousy job.
“But something went wrong...didn’t it?” Octavia sighed.
Mendle sighed, then started to pass judgement.
“You’ve heard it enough times from me so I’ll save you the lecture and just say that your group’s pianist is bringing down your performance.”
“What did Frederick do this time?” Octavia sighed, hoping it wasn’t another incident involving a stolen pie. Sensing no reason to berate Octavia for her band member’s mistake, he at least restrained himself at yelling out what he had to say to the young mare.
“The organizer swears your pianist is just playing like an oafish foal who discovered what wonderful noises his instrument makes...that sort of review coming from that organization is poison for our academy.” Mendle continued to berate calmly, “Upstairs has told me that we are going to turn into the laughing stock of Canterlot if we continue to let these embarrassing incidents continue,”
“I understand,” Octavia replied, then started her usual line in response, “But Frederick told me that he thinks their piano was not tuned properly, but I’ll take responsibility for the mistakes.”
Octavia always disliked the idea of bending the truth on these problems, but inside she knew there was no other way out. Ever since she had become a member of the Royal Palace Conservatorium, she had been forced to learn the rather murky skill of taking the blame for her co-workers. At the same time, Mendel had become rather tired of hearing the same excuses from her.
“You say that like you mean it everytime we meet Octavia...so why has nothing changed, do you want me to talk to Frederick again?”
“No...I don’t think that's necessary,” Octavia assured her instructor, mentally adding ‘Besides, last time you talked to him...he pulled that prank on me as revenge...’
Mendel sighed. He really liked Octavia, though he could never show it since it was bound to start a revolution within the music school if he ever showed anything approaching favoritism. At the same time, he was bound by his disappointment in the grey earth pony. For all of her potential as a leader, she had squandered her credibility with him on making excuses for her band members and acting as their scapegoat for everything. It made what he had to say painfully justified.
“You know Octavia...I had always hoped that your assignment to that troupe would give Frederic the extra motivation to improve his playing, but week after week, you keep providing me evidence to the contrary.”
That worried Octavia a lot and again she responded to cover for her co-workers.
“I’m not lying! I'm doing my best to improve myself to make up for it, and the band...we just-”
“That doesn't fix the problem Octavia!” Mendel yelled, then rebuked himself for his outburst.
Octavia remained silent and silently punished herself for speaking at all.
“Octavia, you work with five other ponies whom for whatever reason rely on you for leadership; you need to stop making excuses for them and start doing something to help them improve,” Mendel started to lecture “For all I know, you could be one of the best cello players we have at the academy, but that means nothing when you're leading a band that isn’t even playing as well as you on your worst day.”
Octavia wanted to whimper out a reply, but instead resisted the temptation. A year of dealing with the band members had taught her that there was nothing to be gained in naming actual reasons why they weren't improving. It was a lot easier to just be yelled at once a fortnight then add fuel to the ongoing problems with her co-workers.
Across the desk, Mendel started to feel sorry for her again and in turn lowered his tone to a comfortable level.
“Octavia I really want to consider what is at stake, you're new to the academy and you’re potential is enormous, but unless you turn things around, then I really can't see how you will pass your review in a few months. Octavia, the academy pays for the best performers in Equestria, but if you cannot fix this problem, then I don’t know what kind of future you will have with us”
It was not the sort of news that she wanted to hear first thing in the morning, but Octavia really could not protest. There was no choice but to accept her fate.
“I understand.”
Octavia blinked her eyes clear and again attempted to stop thinking about the meeting.
It didn't work, instead she was making the mistake of giving it more attention. For all of her attempts to block out what they had said, she had already given too much focus on what had happened. The mare repeated her attempts to ignore anything related to her day, but that only made her remember other things about her fellow band members and previous digressions against her.
'Get it out of your mind.' Octavia ordered and punctuated that thought by rolling onto her back again, the realization she had forfeited her comfortable couch coming all too late.
Feeling defeated on her own piece of furniture, Octavia decided that it was time for her to do something. A course of action wasn’t very hard to decide on and with some reluctance, she rolled herself back onto her hooves and returned to the bedroom. Octavia saw nothing out of place and then ventured into the bathroom. She took the chance to look at herself in the mirror.
"Good Luna...I look...terrible." Octavia couldn't help but verbalized.
She did not look anything like the respectful mare she always aspired to maintain herself as, in fact she had nothing close to a respectable look at the moment. Her mane was in shambles thanks to the rain but after the quick dry off the beautiful black mane now resembled a messy wet mop attached to her head. Her makeup was just as much of a mess, her eyes look blackened from another form of irritation coming down her cheeks. To top it off, her bowtie was still on, hung like a weltering flower, evidently forgotten to be taken off by Octavia.
'What kind of uncouth sloth have I become...' Octavia sighed to herself '...am I going to start drinking milk out of the carton too?'
Prompted by the disgusting mare looking back at her in the mirror, Octavia turned into the bathroom proper and ran the shower. She would need a steaming hot shower to make up for this uncivilized appearance.
'In you go...' Octavia thought as she detached her bow and threw it into the laundry pile with the others needing a wash '...and in I go...'
Stepping over the threshold of the shower, the grey mare at once felt like she was entering a warm embrace. Octavia then simply stood there, momentarily in awe of the feeling of warm water whilst it rained upon her exposed back. It soaked into Octavia's fur and started to soak out the few specks of grime that had managed to mar her coat. With the added bonus of pulsations from gravity assisted droplets impacting the sore spots, the same ecstasy she felt before gradually returned and the mare once again felt marginally better. Her hooves and hocks conversely did not agree with the feeling and soon demanded relief again.
After she got tired of standing, Octavia backed herself in a corner of the shower stall and slid down the tile wall until her haunches gradually made contact with the warm wet floor. From there, she stretched her hooves and this time simply sat there, giving her fetlocks, coronets and hooves the feeling of no pressure except from the wonderfully warm precipitation from the showerhead. Satisfied with her new position, Octavia lay there and let the rain take its chance to properly soak into the fur over her chest and barrel.
Unlike the feeling on her bony hardened back, the rain had a different sensation when it landed on her layers of soft muscle. It tickled a bit, but it felt better than before, this was how the grey mare decided to remain.
With slow exhausted breathes, Octavia again found herself blissfully content.
After a reasonable amount of time embracing the warm rain of the shower, Octavia eventually finished up and returned to normality by means of toweling herself off and cleaning up her mane again.
'That should do it,' she hummed to herself as she stroked her comb through the last of her tail.
Having finished the soothing therapy of tidying up her hair, Octavia replaced the brushes and took a look at herself in the mirror again, now pleased to see herself. In the mirror, her usually exquisitely kempt mane and tail had been restored to the healthy shine that the grey mare struggled daily to maintain. The face, devoid of any make up or mess, felt as fresh as it looked back at her. Satisfied at the restoration of her physical beauty, the musician pony smiled approval and left, returning to the living room.
There, Octavia found herself with a new quandary and felt uncertain about what she wanted to do. Before she could even consider a thought to the problem, a rather embarrassing warm gurgling sound provided her with an answer. At realizing the reason for the noise, Octavia ear's flopped monetarily and she briefly blushed with embarrassment.
'I guess I should start making something,' Octavia turned her head towards the kitchen and trotted that way.
Left on the bench since her arrival, the grey mare again focused attention on the grocery bag that she carried home from her late stop at the bakery. With a curious muzzle poked in, Octavia took a look and like any other pony, considered her options for dinner by what she was gazing at.
'Lemon cake...no that's not for today...Strawberry tarts...no...maybe I'll have one later...' Octavia sighed, then found something more pleasing '...Maybe a slice or two of that apple pie.'
That decision came easily enough and the grey mare emptied the bag, placing the untouched deserts into the cooler-box. Finished with the additional chore, Octavia focused her attention again on the pie, already looking forward to the warm taste of baked pastry on a cold day. With some effort, Octavia extracted a knife from the drawer and with her muzzle, manipulated the sharp instrument over and down onto the pie, giving herself a generous sized quarter for the awaiting plate.
'Quite the glutton today aren't we Octavia,' she thought shamefully when she inspected her handiwork.
She however simply ignored her own guilt today, and carried the plate over to the meals table that seated four, but really only ever used by one.
'May as well have something to wash it all down you old pig,' Octavia poked at herself and returned to find herself a bottle of apple juice.
Drawing one from the cooler box, the grey mare then collected a glass - she never drank directly from anything - and returned to her table. After pouring a generous serving to accompany her meal, Octavia sat down and without hesitation dug in the refined way a mare of her station was suppose to. Savoring the taste, she steadily made her way from the tip down to the outer crust in a slow progression, something she remembered that her...former....friends had often teased her about.
Such a little a trivial thought however was all that she needed to resurface those ugly memories again. Could she not even enjoy her meal without being reminded of the horrible ponies she worked with? Octavia tried again, this time trying to focus on the taste and the soothing feeling of apple juice sloshing down her gullet. But not even food and drink would erase her problems jutting at the forefront of her mind. Feeling defeated, Octavia felt no choice but to reflect on another memory from today.
Gliding her bow back and forth in a gentle and well-practiced manner, the mare continued to play the piece with meticulous timing.
As her instrument breathed in a slow melody of passionate sighs, she silently played on embracing the music in lyrical meditation. Steadily playing through the composition, and allowing her ears to flicker and fur bristle whenever she reached the highest or lowest note her instrument could play. Octavia never felt better than when she was allowed to play her instrument.
Despite nearing the end of the performance, not once did she fail to give the music anything less than the utmost level of rhythmic attention that was expected of her. At the composition's end, she swiftly lifted her bow away to flawlessly complete the recital without a single error made. It had been a perfect performance up to this point, but it became undone half a moment later when the mare detected the lingering sound of a piano key that had stayed down a second too long.
Silent dissatisfaction filled the mare as she breathed out the last of the pent up air. Without any delay, she had already started to feel the displeasure of failing to achieve an immaculate performance which, once again, came from the simplest of errors from her fellow musicians. It was always frustrating to the mare to see her best efforts foiled by the others; and while it was only a practice session, the grey earth pony seldom allowed that as an excuse for poor quality. But what made this more annoying was - especially after her meeting earlier - that it had been the same misplaced key which kept ruining her attempt for perfect the song.
Once upon a time Octavia would have easily dismissed this as a simple error that could be overcome with more practice; nowadays it felt more like yet another bothersome error that threatened her efforts to play to perfection. She didn't even try to attempt to tell her fellow musicians what the problem was knowing from experience that the other band members had come to have very little regard for her critical ear for detail. Repeatedly she had tried selflessly to ensure they understood her concerns, but the young mare had long since grown tired of the insults and the seemingly cruel jokes they played in retaliation. Now, Octavia merely tolerated it and only remarked when she was prompted by the others to do so.
Feeling it was time for a break, Octavia took the chance to put her instrument down. Lowering her bow and flexing both her forelegs for a moment, the grey mare proceeded to move her cello onto its stand, first by placing the bow back into the provided holder, and then with a tight breath, heaving the heavy instrument onto the cradle at the bottom. When Octavia finished releasing herself from her beloved tool of art, she took another moment to breathe, but this time it was to compose herself before turning to face the others. She had once respected all of them as friends, but over the course of her time with the band she had slowly lost that kinship and had come to both loathe and at the same time fear them.
Looking up from her spot on the floor, Octavia caught them as they always were at the end of a practice performance: slouching around like foals delighted to be finished with their first rehearsal.
“Well I guess third time's the charm for that one...and I guess that means we call it a day now!” Frederic declared with a grin.
"And about time we did too!" Harpo chimed in, "I think we all deserve a round of cider by now."
Octavia sighed as Harpo - the designated joker of the group - started to talk about what they would do after they finished work. As always, his banter was quickly endorsed by the rest of the band, who she thought were the least motivated ponies in the music school. It was just how this band worked, and there wasn't a thing Octavia could do about their lack of dedication and general laziness. The grey mare did admit that it was getting late, but couldn't they wait until they left before discussing the evening plans? Despite her concerns, she saw no point in starting an argument about this problem of theirs and continued to suppress her displeasure.
"Something wrong Tavi-puss?" Frederic detected the exhale from her.
'Don't call me that!' Octavia wanted to say, but instead replied with "No...I just didn't think it was this late already."
It was all she could do to avoid a confrontation, something she had become very adept at since moving to the capital to become a member of the Royal Canterlot Palace Conservatorium. To her dismay however, Frederic simply saw through the ploy.
"Don't lie to me...you have something criticizing to say about our performance again, don't you, Tavi-puss?" Frederic acidly punctuated with the nickname that she had come to hate so much.
The question hit Octavia in the face like a stale breath, adding to the already tense atmosphere that the grey mare swore she could only feel whenever working with these ponies.
They were far from friends now; she took the irritated remark from Frederic as a further sign that they merely tolerated her.
This, however, wouldn't stop her replying to the implied challenge. While Octavia usually refrained from making comments about the work ethic of her coworkers, today would be a rare exception. With a long drawn breath, the grey mare braced herself before entering the verbal melee that she despised contesting.
“Frederic, you played that last note a second too long at the end... again.” Octavia started “Sousie, you were playing just fine, but I think you fumbled a note during the second Legato in the final third of the piece....otherwise I can’t think of anything else that happened..." Octavia then bitterly added "But I take it that none of you really care all too much enough to practice again.”
Octavia breathed and silently counted before the jokester of the group, as expected, decided to start to rebuff her assessment. Like all inevitabilities, once she had spoken, it was impossible to avoid experiencing what would follow.
“Well I guess that means I escaped the Octavi-puss today-”
“Don’t call me that!” Octavia cut him off “I really don't like that name.”
Frederic chuckled and took his chance to reply to what he considered was a rigid insult at his integrity.
“Oh lighten up already, Tavi-puss,” Frederic joined in, “You really need to take a joke...and I keep telling you, that key tends to get a little sticky.”
Octavia sighed at the lame excuse - and the other label she had been given - and prepared to cut it off at the hind legs’ ankles. Had she been new like she once was, she might've tried to relent from saying what she thought and tried to frame her reply in a more diplomatic way. But her patience and sincerity had died long ago and it was quite obvious to Octavia that it was pointless to consider her words for these once supposed friends of hers.
“...If that was the case, then why is it only on that last note does that key become sticky? And second...If you're so sure of your excuse...then why do you feel the need to snap at me because of your mistake?” The grey mare coolly replied as evenly as she could under the pressure of her own anger.
Her rebuttal felt like a gauntlet thrown at Frederic's hooves and only made the other band members blink in stunned shock. Neither of the other ponies spoke a word, still surprised at the gall Octavia had to verbally lash out like she just did. For Frederic's part however, he stood his ground and withheld the powerful temptation to belittle the young mare with the most logical reply to her most insincere remarks about him.
“I’m not snapping at anyone Tavi-puss... but if you want my opinion... I’m just saying you’re reading into this too hard...you really need to relax,”
Octavia tried to stop herself from heading into a deeper argument. To her dismay though, her lowly lack of restraint at times like this ensured that she would speak her mind.
“You want me to Relax? Frederic, don't you remember we are supposed to be performing in a few days time?”
“At a garden party Tavi-puss...” The brown mare chuckled now, seeking out and taking grasp of the chance to belittle Octavia without shouting.
“You know the drill, it's going to be the same hundred or so stuffed shirts we see every concert night, and are probably not going to care either way if a note at the end plays a second longer.”
“That’s not the point!” Octavia tried to protest, but now Sousie took her turn to cut her off.
“Tavi...We’re doing the best we can, maybe you’re just trying too hard, or just maybe you’re trying to hide your mistakes?”
Octavia fumed at the latter suggestion but resisted the temptation to immediately reply to the baited comment. Sousie always did this to her: verbally cornering her and changing the meaning of what she said before Octavia’s eyes, at least until it made the grey mare sound like a vindictive young foal. Acknowledging the verbal trap that lay before her, she took the time now to consider her response before replying, knowing already two of their number were trying to make her sound stupid. The third member of the group then took the chance to make his opinion heard.
"Hey guys...lets just put this to a vote," Harpo suggested, "All those who say we play just fine and Octavia is just being a fuss-mare, say Aye!"
Frederic and Sousie grinned before they verbally replied with raised hooves and the one-syllable response.
"All against?"
Octavia didn't even look at them and kept her peace, not even raising her hoof. Jokes like this weren't funny to her at all and there was no point even playing along anyway, not with these overgrown foals.
“Alright! Three to one in favor of Octavia being a fuss-mare!" Frederic chuckled, "Sorry Tavi-Puss...I guess you're outvoted...again."
'Like you were ever sorry,' Octavia silent spat out as she stared at the ground, not wanting to give them the satisfaction of seeing her disappointed. To her relief, Frederic did not play on her moment of weakness and instead simply gave her a look of contempt before leaving it at that.
"I guess if the leader doesn't mind then, I guess we can call it a day." Sousie remarked with a smirk, “What do you say Oct-Aine?"
'Don't call me that either!' she again reverberated to herself.
If she was a still a complete freshmare at the academy, Octavia might've tried a little harder in encouraging her fellow musicians in giving the song one more try before calling a day.
But those times were long in her past and instead, the semi-official leader of the band merely shrugged off the lack of dedication in her fellow band members as a failure on her part to instill in them the same level of relentless faultless performance that she always sought. It constantly depressed her that they simply didn't care like she did, but nonetheless, all her attempts to lead by example were met with harsh criticism that would only serve as a reminder at how little respect they had for her.
'I guess it's better that they ask me instead of just doing it,' Octavia reasoned, and with a slow wince, she approved the end of their working day with a nod of the head.
"Alright! I knew you would understand...now time to get out of here!" Sousie giggled and with no hesitation started packing away the tuba she was still carrying.
The two colts followed suit, both getting off their stools and quickly readying their instruments for stowage whilst they expedited the process for packing up as fast as was safely possible. For Frederic, it was the simple task of closing the lid of the piano before unlocking the wheels to move it back into its special parking spot against the wall. This was soon joined by Harpo's harp, which to his displeasure didn't have attached wheels and needed to be levitated over.
By the time both colts finished moving their own musical tools, they had only the simple task of helping Sousie pack away their stools, music sheet stands and pack up their belongings. If there was at least one redeeming quality still left in them, Octavia had to admire their remaining courtesy to at least clean up after they finished for the day, even if it was for the deflating purpose of going home sooner.
"Hey Octa-Vine...are you going to stand there like a dumb mule or what?" Harpo complained.
Octavia snapped out of her daze and found herself doing nothing. Despite her reluctance about starting to pack up as well, she too started to move, achingly trotting to the wall to collect the container for her instrument. Returning - with the gentle care one would give to a newborn - the grey mare lifted her instrument off its stand and into the black case that she locked it away in for transit. Completing that, she continued along slowly, repeating as her band members had already finished doing.
"Hurry up already!" Harpo whined again.
'Whining won't make me pack faster,' Octavia silently protested, but again voiced in submission "Just on ahead, I'll catch up."
"Alright thanks Octa-Vne!" the harp player almost giggled for joy, "Come on, lets go guys!"
Without really hesitating, all three of the other band members picked up their saddlebags and trotted for the door. With her back to them, Octavia did not see them leave until she heard the sound of the door being opened - with its familiar cringing whine - and followed a few seconds later by it being slammed shut. To her added annoyance, they punctuated their departure by turning off the lights from the outside and suddenly leaving Octavia to herself in the dark, with only the grey wet sky lighting from the windows to illuminate the wooden floor surrounding her. Silence returned to the room shortly after their departure, and with their absence, Octavia finally took the first chance she had all day to truly speak her mind.
"Ungrateful bullies." She breathed out, holding back her emotions with a whimper.
That final moment made Octavia cringe again and she quickly tried to find something else to occupy her thoughts. Failing to find solace in food, Octavia turned her attention to looking for a visual distraction in her own living room.
Despite only living here for just over a year, the musician had already acquired for herself the sort of furnishings that many ponies usually took years to consider acquiring, even if it was at an almost ruinous cost to herself. Octavia had thought of everything - from the color scheme to the furniture - in order to complement exactly with the sort of place Octavia would like her guests to see when visiting. The mare also felt accomplishment in creating her Canterlot abode to look exactly how she had envisioned it as a filly.
Absent any visiting friends though, the grey mare instead felt rather safe within the elegant surroundings and as she became more uncertain with herself in recent times, it had become something of a particularly relieving retreat for her to embrace everyday.
Octavia started to ponder about trying the food therapy again when she heard a muffled thumping noise come from her door.
“Ma-Mail Ex-Express,” an equally muffled stutter shouted .
Octavia didn't hesitate a second longer with her reaction and bound off her flanks to answer the door.
It had been a pretty awful day, but maybe she was about to have a little silver lining appear. It wasn’t much to hope for after a day like this was it? Octavia cantered with a spring in her hooves as she made to the door, hoping to be there before the the mailpony had the chance to announce his presence a second time. In less than a minute, the earth pony made it to the door and after seeing through the eyehole to be sure, she started to open her door to a delightfully familiar face.
“Oh hello Mac-Guffin,” Octavia answered with some lingering surprise. “Don’t tell me they have you working tonight?”
Mac-Guffin was a lanky excuse of a unicorn with a stutter that could drive some of the high-strung Canterlot locals to drink sometimes, but to Octavia he was as ever a humble, nerdy stallion who had never failed to deliver her mail.
“Oh no, I’m ju-ju-just about done, after this pac-package I’m done for the day,” the nerdy stallion explained in a stammer.
Without really asking, he turned to levitate a large box with quite a few labels on it to indicate fragility. Vanity prevented Octavia from indicating any sort of visible delight for the mailpony to witness but inside the grey mare almost bubbled with her first dose of giddiness this week. Octavia’s doubts resurfaced briefly but this time her concerns were alleviated by merely reading the addressee on the package to confirm it was really hers.
"Thank you, I was hoping to see this." Octavia breathed out with some delight
“You never tell me what you keep buying, this must be your third package in a month!”
“Oh...it's uh...it's probably just another care package from home,” Octavia lied, “you know how parents can be sometimes”
“I see,” Mac-Guffin acknowledged, but inwardly frowned. No care package he ever delivered required this many fragile warning labels. He knew that one of these days she’d tell her, after all thats why he always volunteered to do this shift wasn’t it?
“I guess I’ll see you some other time,”
“Take Care,” Octavia waved and watched the pony leave. Only when he had gone around the corner did Octavia even let out a little noise. Her doubts returned however and in short order she was concerned about it really being something other than what the mare was hoping for. Whatever misgivings Octavia had were quickly dealt with when the mare read of the address details, it was certainly for her.
"Perfect." Octavia breathed out with some delight
After locking up again, Octavia gingerly moved with a surprising enthusiasm to the coffee table to open up the box. With the jubilance of a filly and the restraint of a careful perfectionist mare, Octavia opened the box and slid out yet another box that had been cushioned inside by bubble-wrap.
'It's here...' Octavia announced in awe 'Royal Wedding collection...Her Royal Highness...'
Octavia quietly whinnied in her rare delight. Ecstasy eventually passed her present emotions and now she suddenly felt the need to be careful.
'Gloves...of course.' The mare prompted herself to locate the pair that she kept nearby.
With a tug, she pulled the curtain away revealing the private world of her apartment, her most cherished and therefore most discreetly held hobby.
Octavia loved dolls, and had yearned for her own ever since she was a little filly. Her mother always said dolls were Celestia's gift for all the good little fillies who finished their meals, did their homework and helped out on the land. But despite obeying the Princess’s requirements to obtain a doll, the grey mare was never rewarded with one. It was her misfortune that her family simply couldn't spare the bits for toys only one would enjoy. When she moved to Canterlot - the home of the all the most prestigious doll makers - it became a possibility and from there, Octavia started her collection. Today, it was still rather humble compared to other collectors, whom she didn't know any, but retained a bashful pride in it, even if it was in something she could never allow anyone to know about.
They simply would misunderstand her, particularly in light of her colleagues’ harsh jokes the one time she alluded to it. Octavia assured herself to never make that same mistake again and even in the presence of her apartment, she would do all she could to ensure her visitors - as seldom as they were - never found this collection.
'There we go.' She thought as she slipped her gloves on.
Octavia slipped the blue lid off and saw for the first time the porcelain doll of Her Royal Highness Princess Mi Amore Cadenza, Duchess of the Crystal Capital. It was beautifully appointed in the outfit she wore on the day of her wedding. The grey mare shuddered at how beautiful it was and would have drooled if she had been an uncultured mare. With the utmost care, she slipped her hooves into the case and delicately removed the doll from its cradle.
"Why hello Cadence..." Octavia smiled the warmest glow she had in a while, "Welcome to my collection."
Placing it down on the coffee table, the mare sat down on the floor and took in the sight of her new friend. No part of her looked cheaply finished and from Octavia's own memory - she had played at the wedding - the fabric gown covering the haunches of her porcelain princess looked as exactly detailed as the real one. Even the veil and flowers arrangements in her hair had the same immaculate design that the real princess wore, showing to Octavia the painstaking effort that went into this piece. In every sense it was yet another perfect doll for her growing collection.
Octavia was euphoric at the beauty of her new doll, but then turned to wonder how it felt in its new environment.
"Do you have any worries Cadence?"
The doll merely sat idle, motionless for all time.
"Why yes...there are others...would you like to see them?
With a gentle grasp, Octavia scooped up her Cadence doll and on her pronounced skill, trotted on only her hind legs over to the cabinets.
"Here you are...there's your Aunt Celestia...and your other Aunt Luna...here is one my idols...Beethoovesn...and she is Firefly, former captain of The Wonderbolts...and here..." Octavia stopped in front of a shelf reserved for all the royal wedding collection dolls, "...is your special someone...he's been waiting for you for quite some time."
Behind the glass awaited His Royal Highness Prince Shining Armor, Duke of Canterlot, regally dressed in his own uniform of the day as a Captain of the Royal Palace Guards Regiment.
"I knew you'd be excited to see him," Octavia narrated, "Would you like see him?"
That apparently didn't need to take more than a minute to answer.
"Well of course...Just allow me to..." Octavia lowered the doll out of the way and with her muzzle, bit the handle and pulled open the glass door. With careful gyrations on her hind legs to keep balance, Octavia slipped the doll into place and with added care, brushed the wedding down down to how the real one looked to her.
"There you go...by your groom's side,"
Jumping back, Octavia relinquished her two-hooved stunt and returned to all fours.
After inspecting that everything was in the right place on Cadence and admiring her handsome groom again, the grey mare closed the glass door. She stood back and admired her own achievement in obtaining the doll-version of Princess Mi Amore Cadenza. Looking over all her other friends, Octavia spotted some others, ones that she without a thought turned to look at.
"And how are you all doing today?"
Octavia trotted to the end where she kept the more malleable dolls in her collection. In here, she kept dolls that were not mere artifacts for display, but had the ruggedness to be played with. Covered in either felt or velvet and stuffed tight with cotton or wool scraps, they were about twice the size of the average collector doll. Unlike the ones made by the notable doll-maker establishments, they had the advantage of moving limbs and soft and very malleable manes. As a filly, Octavia could never have dreamed of owning so many, but now she had a few shelves full of these dolls.
Reaching down to open the door these were behind, Octavia embraced some familiar faces.
"Little Octavia, Frederic, Harpo, Sousie...Vinyl...How I missed you all." The grey mare cooed as she scooped them up and in an arcing motion, climbed back up onto her two hind legs hooves.
With the loving embrace a foal would receive from a parent, Octavia returned to the sofa and laid down before she rolled onto her back and wriggled herself into a large pillow. After making herself comfortable again, she grinned at what she cradled in her forelegs. Unable to leave her grasp, the grey mare held together all her favorite friends in the whole wide world.
Had she been told as a filly that it was entirely possible to get a custom-made doll that looked exactly like her, Octavia would've done everything in the world to save her bits to get one. But like so much else in her younger years, it would've been unobtainable and so like much else, it had come as a muted surprise to discover that this was possible. At present she owned five of these customized ponies, one of her very own liking and four more that once had been destined as presents for her friends, at least until she had started to feel threatened by their crude remarks and hurtful jabs at her personality. Now robbed of their original intention, they had become Octavia's captive audience when she needed an ear to listen then her friends when she had few others, and nowadays, her only friends in Canterlot.
Finally comfortable, she gazed with a loving smile at the five dolls that rested lazily on her chest, ascending and descending with her every breath.
"So what did you do all day?" Octavia asked her plush doppelganger.
The dolls of course wouldn't talk, but somehow the musician understood them perfectly well.
"I'm so sorry, I know you want to...but you never know what might happen if I leave you around the house...you might get hurt." Octavia relented after taking her unspoken rebuke.
"I know Frederic...but you can't..." Octavia chuckled, "...because I know when I come back you're going to have this big smudge of chocolate right..." Octavia kissed the doll's cheek, "Here!"
She moved Frederic to lay atop her chin, but upon reflection carried him back to the waiting others. There she spotted Vinyl who had almost fallen over the edge.
"Oh!" Octavia gasped, "I'm sorry Vinyl...I should've kept my eye on you!"
Vinyl merely looked back at her with her neutral expression. Octavia however felt a pang of guilt.
"I didn't mean too...how can I make it up to you?"
The white unicorn wordlessly answered.
"A back rub and horn massage?" Octavia gasped a little surprised at the selfish request but smiled, "Okay...you win."
She gently moved Vinyl to the center of the group and started stroking her back. Having rested all dolls on the widest part of her chest, she looked left and right to see the others who were oddly silent all of a sudden.
"What's the matter Little Octavia?"
Without stopping her promised massage of Vinyl, Octavia the doll-version of herself to take center of the group and looked into its motionless eyes.
"...Am I feeling okay? Well I'm not feeling sick if you're asking that."
Octavia felt herself a little worried when she heard the reply.
"I look a little down today?" Octavia repeated to the grey earth pony resting lazily on her chest, "..I guess that’s because I had a bit of a bad day."
Harpo suddenly voiced his silent concern.
"What happened?" Octavia repeated, "I...I'm not sure you're interested."
The white unicorn she was massaging then voiced her own concern.
"I guess if you insist...it all started this morning when..."
For five uninterrupted minutes Octavia talked about her day. From the moment she said goodbye to her sanctuary from the world and her long trot to the Conservatorium, to the stressful meeting she had with her superiors about her quartet's performance schedule. Then she started to talk about her rather agonizing afternoon stuck in a practice hall trying to nail down the four or five songs they had agreed to practice and each time coming short because of the laziness of the others.
"It's awful..." Octavia sadly explained, "All the practice I put in on my own time...and all the complaints I got about Frederic's piano..." Octavia paused when the Frederic spoke. "I'm sorry...I know you play just fine...but this other Frederic at work just doesn't understand how important his playing is..."
Another question was asked.
"No they didn't....at the end of the day he hadn't...and he was using that same excuse about a sticky key," Octavia sighed, "He could be a great pianist if he would just put the effort in, but I guess he and harpo are just too distracted by after-work drinks..."
Now Harpo protested, worried that Octavia was again mistaking him for the unicorn she worked with.
"No...I know it's not you...you're much kinder than that other Harpo..." Octavia stifled at the end, again tonight she was forced by accident to recall that horrible memory. The dolls all seemed to detect it.
"No I'm alright...I'm just...:" Octavia paused and gulped fresh air to try swallow the memory, "...it's just after practice today he said something about me..."
A moment of pause and this time her white unicorn friend asked. Sensing that this would be her only chance to get it off her chest, Octavia braved her feelings and started to recall what she could about what happened.
Octavia took time making her way down to the lobby.
There was no rush for her, and while it was already getting dark and quiet in these halls, the grey mare enjoyed trotting along and admiring the physical, if not spiritual beauty of the Conservatorium. It was one of the few things left in the world she enjoyed, apart from music and her more private pursuits. The history alone was enough to make the young mare from the rural frontiers swell with the sensation of curiosity and nostalgia as she thought of all the great colts and mares in music that once walked these halls. It was enough to overcome any feelings she had before about why she retained herself as a member of this conservatorium on what felt like an increasing number of horrible days.
Eventually, she reached the lobby and her brief appreciation for history came to an end, this time because of a surprise of sorts. From her vantage point, she spotted her unappreciative band members and a few more musicians that she both knew and equally distrusted waiting around in the lobby. Without hesitating, Octavia stopped in her hooves before they could see her.
'Must've run into each other...I hope they leave soon.'
If wishing made it so, that would've been the cue for them to turn tail and leave out the front door, but to her chagrin, the five ponies continued to lull around the foyer. Octavia had almost started to consider returning to the music room for some late practice when she overheard them speak.
"Where in Tartarus is Tavi..." Frederic groaned, "She should've cleaned up her mess by now."
"Give up it up already...she won't go along with it...and I'm getting thirsty." Harpo continued to whine.
Octavia paused in her motions and stayed still.
"Oh come on, when was the last time we invited her along?" said one of the other two that had joined them.
"Ages before she went and became Miss Antisocial on us." Sousie scoffed, "...Harpo's right, Octi wouldn't know a good time if it hit her square on the nose."
'Only because you kept making fun of my choices in beverage...and my family...any everything I ever said,' Octavia silently rebuffed.
It was almost too much and it was starting to occur to the grey mare that just waiting around for them to leave wouldn't be an option. It made her reconsider what else she could do. Part of her was tempted to confront them again, this time with the chance to walk away if it became too much for her, but her pride wouldn't allow her to do that. It had already been thoroughly bashed by those three and she didn't want to give them more reason to poke fun at her, especially with two more spectators to see her made fun of. Another part of her entertained the idea of practicing in the room again, even this late in the day, but what if they came up to annoy her instead?
Octavia continued to rack her thoughts together, but paused when she heard them speak again.
"Well, I want to give her the chance..." Frederic declared, "...and if she wants to continue being a stick in the goo, then we'll just ask her to take a chill tablet and leave"
"You can tell her to swallow the whole bottle if you'd like!" Harpo argued, "But she's just going to be the same stuck up and annoying country estate mare she has always been...no, not even that, she's just being a spoiled filly... if she wants to act like that to us...pray to Luna that she never procreates anytime soon."
Frederic, for his part, was stunned by that pronouncement from his friend, particularly considering that Harpo had once confessed to a lingering attraction to the young and attractive mare. On the one hoof, he guiltily agreed with the sentiment that Octavia was no longer the nice, friendly mare with a talent for playing her chosen instrument. But even for all the loathing Frederic felt about Octavia's current attitude in recent times, he knew Harop’s remarks were really uncalled for. To him, it was a new low for them as a band to reach and he felt ashamed by it.
He was about to angrily cut his own friend's remark down, but was interrupted by another voice.
"Ask who to take a drug?"
Frederic froze at that those words. Shortly following a brief panic, fear rapidly overtook the chilling feeling as he turned his head to the source of the noise, hoping for his hearing to have been mistaken. From around the corner, Octavia appeared, hiding her grief as best as she could, but appearing to all the world like she was bordering on breaking down in enraged tears.
"About time you came..." Harpo finally chuckled, not quite seeing the look for what it was, "Did you get lost again Tavi-puss?"
"It's Octavia" She corrected sharply before adding: "...and no, I just took my time...but I guess that's typical for a spoiled filly to you isn't it?"
Octavia quivered in her fur at her declaration.
She could feel how brittle her voice was and struggled to keep the emotions under control. Without so much as a prompting, she started trotting forward towards the blockade of ponies in her path. As she started to approach the group, the other ponies stood in shocked silence. Harpo having not caught the signals sooner finally realized what he had said and instinctively he cowered back a hoof, suddenly fearing physical harm from the grey earth pony. Octavia however ignored the action and instead continued forward, eyes, fogged as they were, looking to the exit. She had said all she planned to say now and her only focus was on leaving.
Frederic stood there beside his friend and wanted to say something. By some force of magic however, he found himself unable to even stutter and like Harpo, suddenly felt himself about to receive a vicious blow to the muzzle for his friend's disparaging rant. Octavia however ignored him as well; she had already had one fight with him, and after being humiliated, saw no point in a repeat performance. Instead, she simply continued on, passing the group entirely and trotting away from the fight that all the tension of immaturity in her was beckoning to partake in.
"Octavia! Wait!" Sousie shouted, finally breaking the nervous silence.
Octavia was tempted to ignore her, but stopped trotting, however she remained there, standing with her back to them.
"We were all thinking of going down to that bar we use to take-"
"It's fine, I'm not interested..." Octavia replied in as even a voice, that they barely heard her whimper.
She turned to face them, admitting that she was unable to say this without seeing them react. It was just too hard not to face them, and tell them without seeing the guilty looks in their eyes.
"...And why should I hang around with foul ponies like you lot anyway?"
All of them were painfully astonished when they saw Octavia's face contort like it was now, barely holding back the flow of emotion that the young mare was feeling in waves. Any attempt to console her at this point was inevitably lost, when the grey pony turned her back to them and trotted to the door. In a few seconds Octavia reached the door and with a tug of her mouth, she opened the doors and escaped to the outside, leaving her problem standing behind the solid wooden barriers to the building.
It was damp, it was dark and it was still coming down. The rain she had expected welcomed her back, just as it had said goodbye to her when she entered the building this morning. Having prepared for this, the grey mare simply withdrew her umbrella and lodged it into her saddlebag. It would not protect her face from the rain, but at times like this, Octavia accepted it as a necessity to protect her instrument, even if it was already protected from the rain by the water-resistant case. With another stifled breath, the grey mare made her way down the stairs and onto the street.
It was only then that Octavia finally let her repressed whimper become a sob.
When she finished, Octavia started to whimper again, but within the personal confines of her apartment, it quickly upgraded a quivering weep. Feeling the sudden need to dig herself a hole to cry in, she rolled over to face the back of the sofa and for a few minutes, the musician sobbed. Her dolls too accompanied her and suddenly found themselves bunched up in a tight hug from their owner.
"It's not fair...just before I thought they were done...he...he...goes and says that..." Octavia gasped out before burying her face in her dolls.
For another couple of minutes, Octavia stayed still, sniffing away the last of her grief and with it all out in the open, finally restoring her control over her emotions. When she felt herself ready to see the world again, Octavia blinked her eyes open, spotting from just a very short distance from her eyes five pairs of woven ones all looking back at her.
"I'm sorry...I just need to..." Octavia choked, "...let that out...I'm sorry I you had to see me like that,"
The Octavia doll spoke for the others.
"Thank you for understanding...I really shouldn't be burdening you with all of this,"
Ironically, it was Harpo who then followed his fellow doll's lead in comforting his owner.
"I know...Thank you Harpo...I needed to hear that," Octavia sighed elation, "You really are a gentlecolt sometimes..."
Octavia rolled her body over to the other side and again, brought her dolls along with her. When she finally found another comfortable spot for all her joints, she released her friends slowly from her crushing grasp, and allowed them to spread out between the wall of warm fur and the cliff edge of the sofa cushion. The five ponies fell off her fore-hooves and ended up laying like their animate owner, aside, on their belly or upside down. The grey mare considered lifting Sousie off her own doll’s fluffy belly but decided against it and started to feel just a little jealous for them.
Laying motionless with the warm protection of their surroundings, Octavia felt like they were enjoying the sort of paradise a working-class Pony could only dream of in the most sensual of fantasies. Lavished and indolent like spoiled foals, they looked to be enjoying their owner's loving company, which to Octavia her entire world now revolved around. Before long though, Sousie had a question.
"I'm feeling much better now...thank you..." Octavia sighed, her eyes already feeling exhausted.
The grey mare sighed with contentment and just left herself bleed off the additional stress that she had pent up until now. She really just wanted to forget about the whole incident in the lobby, but Octavia’s lingering doubts refused to leave her. Another question was asked.
"I guess so...I don't know what to say to these ponies...they just won't listen to me anymore..." Octavia explained, "...I know I've gotten on their nerves in the past...and that I've made mistakes too...But they are so unforgiving now...they won't even listen to me when it's really important."
The Frederic doll took that all in and looked like it had a perplexing look for a moment. Then he asked something.
"You know I can't do that...It would be terrible to do that...they just would hate me even more," Octavia sighed.
"Yes...it is terrible...but I guess its a good thing that I don't have to see them until Monday." Octavia sighed contently.
Octavia finally felt at ease again and instinctively felt the need to brush the fur on her flank. She rubbed a hoof against the Cutie-mark that had destined her to end up in Canterlot and work for the renowned Conservatorium. It felt warm to the touch, but under her fur she felt a tinge of muscle soreness. The grey mare didn't need to tell herself why she felt a sudden muscle twitch when she applied pressure, it was an age old problem with standing on one's hind legs all the time. She should've seen a masseur about it earlier in the week, but she had become used to the strain now from standing too long.
"Yes...it hurts a little..." the musician replied to the question her miniature self asked, "...but I'm comfortable now...all I need is a rest..."
Octavia lazily blinked her eyes. She was already starting to feel the last stage of her fatigue and wondered if maybe now was the time to put her companions to bed and follow their example. It was a classic struggle of temptation against will. Under ordinary circumstances it wouldn't have been a question for will to defeat her temptation, but tonight had been anything but normal. It was the end of the working week, she felt comfortable where she was and her company certainly didn't want her to go away. With a slow breath, Octavia closed her eyes and snuggled up against the pillow, stretching where she could and letting her body shut down for the day.
For the first time today, Octavia finally felt herself slip into contented rest.
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I had a friend that confided in dolls, toys, inanimate objects that will never talk back or belittle you.
Octavia commonly is written as a pony who sticks to a routine and absolutely needs everything to go a certain way or it's all wrong. any deviation from the structured normal could lead to a meltdown and maybe taking out that frustration on others, almost like an OCD complex that traps you in.
think twilight from lesson zero. her inability to not fuss over a scheduled friendship letter (one she arbitrarily set) get the best of her ends up with an enchantment causing a whole town to fight each other. for Octavia, Vinyl is usually the one to push back against her stuctured, OCD life. I've seen a mix of stories where octavia snaps, to where she loosens out of her own world and eventually relaxes more, taking things as they come without trying to perfect every waking moment.
but in between those bouts with friends and even enemies, we all need to unwind somehow, and not many stories are written covering that for most of the ponies. it's not a side of Octavia that's written very often, and I'm curious to see where you go with this. ponies in her daily life being bullies, or setting those high expectations over her, she needs an escape somewhere. didn't expect anyone to use dolls though. videogames tend to be my escape
oh, and you'll find lots of willing prereaders to catch the gramatical errors. if you managed to write all this by yourself, you've done very. I could use you as a prereader
That Was lovely. I fell this is going to be a new take on The Octavia and Vinyl thing..... That's the best i could think to phrase it.....
EDIT: WHO DOWN VOTED THIS? I WILL FIND THEM AND HORRIBLY MIAM THEM!
Wait, is that pony vecotor made with that pony creator thing. But i've never seen it like that so it took me a while to reconzize it, so it means you story already sucks- NO i'm just kidding, i achualy have to give you(or whoever made it) points. Now on to the story!
Ps, i know this will piss off everyone, but... TTTHHHHIIIIIIIIIIRRRRRRRRRRRRDDDD!
25.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_mbpt8icoxs1revcnfo1_400.png
This is very good. Depressing, but very well done. Can't wait to see where Octavia goes from here.
Well done, and pretty well written.
On to the next!
'The mare... the mare... the mare... the mare.'
This is a promising story, but Lavender Unicorn Syndrome makes it grating to read, especially in the first paragraphs. I think it would work much better if you took out just about every instance of Octavia being referred to as 'the mare' or 'the gray mare' or 'the musician' and simply used pronouns instead.
Yet you're drinking directly from the glass, aren't you, Octavia?