"Coming in," came a low bellow before a large head peered into the office size for more standard issue ponies and humans. "Octavia," exclaimed one of his snakes, sounding almost cheerful a moment. "Everything alright?"
Octavia felt her face reddening. Even though nothing was exposed more than usual, she was being examined and it just felt off. "Doctor Time here is just giving me a checkup."
"It's a tad more than that," admitted the small doctor. "Hello there. You're next, so come in and sit down if you would."
"I am?" queried another snake in a confused tone as the rest of his bulk began to carefully enter. "I didn't have no appointment. Did I?"
"You do now." The little doctor smiled as he hopped up and bounced up from the counter to reach a cabinet where a bottle was stored. He fell, but landed on his hooves, the bottle in his mouth. "Now, Miss Melody, I'd like you to take one of these every day, starting right now. You have a mild infection, but it's nothing you can't fight off." He spat out the bottle beside her. "You are a tough earth pony, right?"
"Right." She reached for the bottle only to remember her hooves were still damnably slippery. She grabbed the lid of the bottle in her teeth and worked it free before tipping it just enough for a pill to spill free. It was not one of the small neatly packaged things she was expecting. "Did you make this yourself?" It was like a tightly bound little package of herbs. She could see where leaves started and twigs ended. A smooth medical pill it was not.
"I did." He was looking at No Name. "It's fresh, I check every day. Go on. Now, you, big fellow. Where does it hurt?"
"May I chew it?" asked Octavia as she carefully balanced it on the end of her rebellious hoof.
"You may." Doctor Time was circling the quiet No Name, inspecting him as best as he could. "You've been through no small number of scrapes, but we both knew that. What a brave pony you are."
"You should know better than that." No Name's nose wrinkled a bit. "Ain't much of a pony."
Doctor Time grabbed a chair in his teeth and sent it rolling skidding towards No Name. "You may be a curious pony, but, as a doctor, I feel confident in classifying you under our genus, if not our species." He scrambled up onto the chair. "If you won the favor of a mare, I feel certain viable offspring would result."
No Name snorted explosively at that. "Well, sure, but a damn human could do that if they wanted to jus' fine."
Stitch in Time wobbled a hoof. "But the result would not be either of the parents. You and a pony would make a pony. Maybe a big one, maybe not, but still a pony. Now, we're not here to discuss your breeding outlooks. Show me where it hurts."
Octavia swallowed her pill, having chewed it up into a mashy paste in her mouth. It was a little bitter, but it was also medicine, so she didn't make a fuss about it. "He means only well, No Name. Please answer him."
"You too?" He sighed, all his snakes sighing at once even as a sigh rolled out over the snakes from within him in a strange chorus. "Alright, fine." He raised a hoof to point at his shoulder. "Caught one here. And here." He pointed to a spot on his side. "Pretty sure I got a few back there." He pointed back at his rump. Got a nick on my ear, but it ain't even hurt no more."
Stitch's eyes widened as he began counting all the places he had been hurt. "You poor thing! And you were just there to help them. Thank you." He hopped down from the chair and quickly looped around to his rump, a more easily reached portion. "Mmm, you look alright here." He gently pat the area. "Nothing stuck inside, no sign of infection here, good..."
No Name looked over his shoulder at the small doctor poking at him. "Yeah, ain't not enough to put me down. You got somethin' or burnt lungs?"
His little hoof dropped to the floor. "Burnt lungs?"
"Oh, yes." Octavia nodded quickly. "I had forgotten all about that."
"How do you forget a thing like burning lungs?!" He hopped up onto his chair only to rebound up onto a counter. "How badly does it hurt? Can you describe the pain?"
"Like sandpaper," noted a new voice. All eyes turned to Vinyl sitting up in bed, wobbling a bit. "Uh, hey." She raised a hoof a moment before it fell. "I feel like I've been asleep for ages, and I'm still tired. What's up with that?"
Octavia bounced to her hooves and galloped towards the bed. "Vinyl!"
"Yeah..." She didn't get much else out before she was tackled right back onto the bed under Octavia. She weakly laughed as she was hugged. "Well, shoot, I gotta get hurt more often if I can wake up like this. Uh, nice to see you too girl."
Octavia squeezed her weak friend close. "Don't you ever do anything like that ever again!"
"I promise... nothing." She weakly laughed as she tried her best to return the embrace. "It isn't, you know, like me, but can you..."
"Certainly." Octavia gently set Vinyl down, smiling at her still recovering friend. "I'm just... It's good to have you back with us."
"So, uh, like she said." No Name gestured towards Vinyl with a toss of his head. "Still in there. Kinda annoying."
The little doctor hissed with alarm. He nosed into a drawer and pulled free a book, starting to flip through it as quickly as he could. "I don't like the sound of that, not at all." He turned it with his little nose, nudging it from one page to the next. "Do you feel any trembling or other muscular issues?"
No Name shrugged softly. Octavia shook her head. "I feel fine, outside of what we just reported."
"Alright, alright, good..." Stitch let out a little breath, looking visibly relieved. "Gross lung irritation... I can... perform much more extreme surgery, or..." He looked up at his three guests. "I can admit magic would be better suited for this. This sort of fix isn't free, even from the most kind cleric. It literally can't be. The gods demand sacrifices." He wobbled a hoof. "I don't understand it. It's not like Lashtada would want her children suffering, but it is the way it works."
No Name hiked a brow at Stitch. "You sound like you could fix it."
"I think I could." He bobbed his head. "You'd be down for a while... Lungs are not easy to reach, for obvious reasons. There's no such thing as perfectly safe surgery..." He tapped his little hooves together softly. "But I am ready to do it, if that is the best path. I'd prefer you at least looked for a cleric before I set this path down."
No Name rose with a low snort. "Callin' in all mah favors lately... Let me see what I can't shake loose, alright?"
"Please." He turned to Octavia. "You don't have to stay here. I'll keep an eye on Miss Scratch and we'll call you if anything changes."
Vinyl weakly waved a hoof. "Yeah, don't just sit here watching me be lame. That's no fun, and I don't want that anyway. I'll come tackle you when I can. You owe me one."
"I do," admitted Octavia with a little smile. "Stay strong." She offered up a hoof. "The Rock Goddess isn't going to let a little gas come between her and victory."
"Got that right." She weakly pressed her hoof to Octavia's. "Just need a little me time."
Octavia hopped down gently, looking back at Vinyl once more before proceeding towards the exit. "Let's go."
"Bullette's alright," noted No Name as he departed with her. "She's already back to her usual self."
Stitch watched them go before looking back to Vinyl. "You, least of all, do I want to risk this with. You've just woken up. Your friends seem... durable. I'd rate them--"
"--Yeah yeah, I get it." She rolled over, facing the little doctor. "I'm better at partying than this. Just my luck. Not your fault though."
"How do you feel?" He hopped right up onto the bed, looking down at her, a thing he didn't get to do very often.
"Like I was run over, but I'm not giving up that easy, little doc." Vinyl reached out a wobbling hoof to press it right on his nose. "Boop. You are the cutest little doctor I ever saw."
He smiled around her hoof. "I'm glad you're in good spirits. Your goggles are over there." He pointed to a small nightstand near the bed. "I didn't want them to bother your rest."
"Nah. They power me up." Her horn glowed faintly as she picked up the goggles, forcing them to lethargically gravitate towards her. "Once I get these bad boys back on my face..." The goggles slapped up against her face, but she didn't notice. She had passed out in the effort, already starting to snore softly.
Stitch leaned in, taking them carefully between his teeth and working the band around her head. Soon she had them adorning her eyes as she seemed to want. "Sleep well." He hopped down and returned to his chair.
Octavia walked alongside No Name. "Where is she?"
He gestured with a hoof. "She's being... seen to, like Vinyl."
"I imagine not exactly like her, but I'm glad to hear that." She nodded firmly. "The doctor was... right. You've suffered a great deal, for us... And we've nothing to show for it. Why are you even... here?"
No Name hiked a brow. "Tired of bein' wit' us?"
"No! No... I mean... you should be tired of being with us. What have we given you, but pain?" Octavia ran a hoof over the other leg in a nervous fidget. "Just... why?"
"Because it's right?" He gave a great shrug, watching her placidly. "Ponies come and go... They live little lives, then they dead... Doesn't mean you don't... get involved none." He cracked a faint smile. "Do you just walk past a lost puppy?"
Octavia blinked softly, silent a moment. "Do you see us that way? That is... unnerving in a sense... Still, most would not go through this much effort, even for a 'lost puppy' as you put it."
He reached for her, bopping her on the nose lightly. "Hey, I ain't so good at this. You're more than that. You're a friend now. I ain't leavin' friends behind."
Octavia rubbed at her mildly sore nose, smiling despite it. "That's a reason I can understand. I mean, even if we're trying to... leave?"
He hiked a brow. "So? A friend helps a friend get where they want, even if that's away. I'm gonna check in on Bullette, alright?"
"Tell her I said hello, and wish her a speedy recovery." She glanced in the direction No Name seemed to want to go. "And tell her I can't wait to see my favorite little filly." Her voice dipped down, "Remind her that would be her, in case she gets confused."
Her friends were in recovery, which was good, and they had lung damage, that was less good. Damage the doctor was afraid to even try to treat. That was even less good. Octavia let out a heavy breath and went for a determined trot. She nodded towards the other Turves-citizens she saw on the way, but she was focused. She raised a hoof and knocked on a door. "Are you in?"
"'s not locked!" came a call from inside. "Is that the player?"
Octavia nudged the door open and entered the woodworking studio. "It is I, Octavia. I was wondering how the..." Her voice trailed off, seeing the cello in the firm grip of a vice that held it still. It looked polished, shining in the dim light. She hurried towards it, ears pricked.
"She's looking a lot better now," assured the craftsman, slapping his hands together firmly. With a firm grip of the vice's handle, he popped the instrument into his other waiting hand. "Would you do me the pleasure of testing it?"
Octavia reached for it, cradling it close with a soft sniff. It smelled of the polish and cleaning chemicals, but she could also smell the wood that made it, and some new wood. "Is the bow ready?"
"Bow? Oh, this?" He pulled the bow free from behind some tools on his bench. "Didn't know what it was called, but I figured it needed new strings. The ones it had were beyond worn out. I didn't have a perfect match, but..."
Octavia reached up for it and drew the bow away in her hoof, sticking there without a problem. If she could only use her hooves for music, was that so bad? "I'm certain it will change the sound, but, still, no matter. I am eternally grateful." She brought the bow to the strings, standing upright with an uncertain expression.
There was a moment of silence before she drew the bow slowly across the strings. A soft unsure note sounded, as if the cello was just as scared as she was. She smiled as she adjusted her grip and reached with her mouth to the great knobs that held the strings of the instrument in place. With a firm twist, the note became higher mid-pull. She began to tune it. The bow was not one she had used before, with an alien string. The cello was constructed of strange wood.
Neither of these things mattered. It was time for her to get to know it. With soft raises and lowers, she moved from knob to knob, working to adjust it gently towards a sound that pleased her practiced ears. It would never be entirely perfect, that was a thing that did not exist. Harmonies did not properly exist in perfectly equal instruments. The imperfections were the perfection. She gave a last twist, drawing her bow across the strings.
The cello was no longer uncertain and scared. It was saying hello, in the way a cello could. It was ready to sing and dance with her. With a growing smile, she lowered the hoof that held the bow. As if somehow telling she wasn't playing anymore, the bow slipped free of her hoof and clacked to the ground. "It's ready. Thank you."
"You're forgetting a part." He reached behind himself without looking, taking hold of the case it came in. A new leather strap dangled from it as he placed it in front of her. "You need something to put it in."
"Marvelous." She placed the cello inside carefully and had the bow loaded up a moment afterwards. "Wonderful... I'll... I need to practice. It's been too long."
"An artisan without work collects rust," agreed the woodworker, gesturing for the door. "Go shake that off. I'll be by to hear it later when I don't have other projects needing my attention."
"Thank you, once again." She dipped her head low. "You are truly a gentlepony."
"I'm not a pony, but I'll take it as a compliment." He rose to his feet. "Don't mean to kick you out, but I'm doing that. Plenty of other work to do."
"Yes, right. Take care." She slung the case over her back and started for the exit. "Take care."
"You take care of that, but if it gets dinged, bring it back here." He grabbed a bow, the sort more applicable to hunting. "An antique like that shouldn't be lying around broken."
"Of course." She slipped out as she had come in, though the door swung inwards, making it impractical for her to draw it shut behind herself. Though it had a knob. She reared up and grabbed it in her mouth, pulling the door shut with a satisfying click.
She ambled towards the well, it being in the center of town. She stood up near it, working loose the clasps of the case to work her cello free. "Hello, new friend. Shall we sing a song for the town?"
She ran a hoof along the wood of the cello as she grabbed for the bow with the other. "Let's start slow..."
She was not trying to play a particular song. Octavia just played. She let her soul out down along her arms and it came out through the cello. It was a soft and haunting melody, speaking wordlessly of her loss and struggle. Small upticks echoed the happiness of seeing Vinyl stir, of knowing Bullette would be alright. But her song was a sad one. She had many negative emotions to process, and playing the cello was a fine time to let them come free, to channel them into wonderful notes.
Passing people paused at times, watching her play her sad little song. Despite the sadness of it, she had a little smile on, which seemed to confuse them.
"Excuse me," came a high pitched but male voice. "Are you happy or sad?"
Octavia blinked, looking to the source. They were a pony, a full sized one. Their coloration was like that of a duck, with a green head, a white band, and even a yellow snout that could approximate a beak, though it was clearly a muzzle. "Oh, hello?"
"Hi!" piped the male, ruffling the wings on his back. "Nice to meet you! I'm Duck."
"Hello, Duck." She tilted her head faintly at the new pony. "That is a very fitting name."
"It's the best," he easily agreed. "So are you sad or happy?"
"It's a little complicated, I must confess." She tapped her cello with her free hoof. "Did you want to hear me play?"
"Yes please!" He plopped down on his haunches. "But only if it makes you happy."
"I think it does." She drew her bow across the cello, resuming her soft playing. "Do you like--"
She didn't get to finish. He had pulled free a guitar with a duck's head at the top. He began playing with her, matching her soft melody but seeming to try to lift it, playing the upscale to her downturn relentlessly. His music was as eager as he seemed to be and he smiled brightly as he played, hooves dancing over the strings in that way that confused humans and Octavia shared.
Octavia felt challenged on some level. Her song demanded a downturn, and she pressed harder, but he was right there, never clashing, matching, but lifting, working into her notes with the work of a practiced musician. He just wasn't letting her wallow in her emotions, and she was both smiling and infuriated at the work of the eager little duck-pony. "You don't give up, do you?"
"I try not to," he chimed eagerly. "What's your name?"
"I am Octavia Melody." She gestured at herself with the bow.
"That's a pretty name." He released his guitar, letting it hang off his neck by its strap. "I'm Duck," he noted as if she could have forgotten since he last mentioned it. "I'm a baker and I play songs and I run a radio show." He suddenly gasped, his eyes going wider. "I just had the best idea!"
"What idea would that be?" She sank down to all fours, starting to put her cello away in its case. "You live here, I imagine?"
"Oh, yes! You do too, right?" He tilted his head left and right rapidly. "Sorry for not saying Hi to you before! I was kinda busy, but I met you now and that's good right? I'm duck!" He suddenly quacked, a noise that could have come from any proud avian of his name. "Oh yeah, the idea!"
"You were saying?" she prompted gently as she shouldered the case.
"Yes, you should play on the radio." He pointed firmly into the town. "It's over there. Did I mention I bake? Wanna bun? It'll help you smile!"
Octavia's expression diminished faintly, smile easing. "It sounds like you have many professions."
"Yes! Wait, no, just three." He held up a hoof, then the other forehoof, then flopped over, likely trying to raise a third hoof without much success. From the ground, he was looking up at her. "How many do you have?"
"Approximately zero at this moment." She sighed gently. "I have nothing I do for the betterment of anyone around me, in the end."
"That's not true." He sat back up and pointed at her, then her cello. "You play nice music. It's kinda sad, but it's pretty. Do you like playing?"
"I do... but I doubt anyone here is rushing to hire me to play my cello."
"What if I did?" He reared up so he could point at himself with both hooves. "I run a radio," he reminds. "I need stars! I mean, besides me. You could be a star. I bet people would like hearing you play. You could help put smiles on lots of people's faces. Wanna?!"
Octavia reached for him, poking him in the belly since he was standing up. "Pardon me, good sir, but you don't... can you show me the radio?"
"Follow me!" Instead of moving towards the supposed radio, he approached her. "'xcuse me. Can I hug you?"
Octavia had to blink. That was a sudden detour in the conversation. "We don't know each other that well, I'm afraid."
"Oh, well, you looked like you needed one." He walked past her, trotting along with a smile. "This way, Quack." He looked over his shoulder at her. "If you want one later, don't even ask, nope, don't. Just hug me. I'll be so happy."
Octavia smirked faintly as she follows the strange duck-pony. None of the others in the area seemed concerned for her, so she decided to have faith that he was just an oddball, not a dangerous person to be around.
Lunarquills looked back at the knocking. "That you, Has Name?"
"That ain't my name." He nudged the door open with his snout and wriggled inside. "Belle, how're you feelin'?"
"I am operational," sang Bullette with a little hop. "He has returned me to 90% operational. I can finish the remainder of the repa--healing on my own." She bounded down from the counter she was seated on. "I am ready to depart. What is the status of Octavia Melody and--"
"Not even a goodbye?" Lunarquills smirked softly. "Figures."
Bullette pivoted a little too perfectly. "Error! I am grateful for your work, Uncle Lunarquills. I hope to see you again when I am not in need of medical assistance."
"Yeah, let's do that." He hung up a screwdriver on his magnetic strip. "Maybe some day you can show me a few of those secret weapons of yours, if you get in the mood."
"I'm going to hope she never gets in that mood." He offered a hoof and she bounced right onto it. Soon he had her placed on his back, ready to be his loyal turret once more. "Thanks again. If you need something--"
"--I'll ask for it. For now, git out of here, both of ya. Like a guy doesn't have things to do."
No Name emerged from the building he had practically lived in for a few days. "We're gittin'"
"Status report," repeated Bullette.
"Oh, right." No Name looked over his shoulder at Bullette as he started to walk. "Octavia said she can't wait to see her favorite filly soon."
Bullette gasped in a warbling tone. "Who is her favorite filly? Can I meet her?!"
No Name felt a smirk forcing its way free. Octavia had called that one. "You already met her. She was talkin' 'bout you, Bullette."
Bullette squealed, clapping her forehooves together. "Receiving of friendship points acknowledged! Let's go to her now."