To the waking mind a dream is but a shadow. A meager speck against the brilliant light of the coming day streaming into one's eyes. And what does light do if not dispel shadows?
Octavia groaned as she looked sleepily around her with heavily squinted eyes as she ran here sandpaper tongue around her desert of a mouth. She took into a deep breath, but the cool night air offered no relief. Tapping around the ground she felt no moisture, it had not rained, and by this time at night her glass of water that she kept next to her would have evaporated. Too delirious to get up and walk to the pond, she returned her leg to it's position close to her body. And she felt her coat, it was soaked. Sweat. She shivered. Cold sweat.
But why? Her eyes fluttered shut, she shook her head and cracked her eyes again. Important, that's all she could remember, the dream had been important. But her eyes again began to fail her. As the grey spots of her vision slowly turned black she saw a pure white unicorn walking away from her tree.
White. White. White.
That's all that there was.
Octavia scanned around into the blank world, "Hello?"
Silence.
She sighed.
All around her the claps of her hooves echoed when she finally began walking. It, this place, felt... familiar, so very familiar.
Then she heard it and she went pale.
Away in the distance it called her. The soft talons of nostalgia.
She ran, ran towards the one other pony in Equestria who knew that song.
She sat contently playing the calling tone. Eyes shut, she was completely concentrated on her work. Neither the strange atmosphere nor the deep panting and rapid hoofsteps could distract her from her work.
The tone played on as Octavia watched until the last chord.
As it faded away into oblivion Octavia asked, "Lyra?"
Said mare turned to face her friend, "Yes Octavia?"
"Where are we?"
She looked around, "I don't know, seems like the old Concert Hall."
"Is this real?"
"Depends on what you mean by real. If real is what's you're experiencing, than yes, it is. I certainly don't think that this is Equestria though."
"Why?"
Lyra pointed at her blank flank, the to her lyre, "I don't think in Equestria I could play my cutie mark like an instrument."
"How am I, are we, here?"
“Hey”
“What?”
"Heyyyyyyyyyyyy!"
Octavia jolted up in the hard bed, and sputtered out incoherent babble.
“Come on, it’s time for dinner,” the olive green pegasus told her.
Octavia groaned, rolled out of bed, and, landing with a clap onto all four hooves, began walking down to the cafeteria.
Octavia felt a wing wrap around her, and she looked over.
“Mind telling your ‘mate what’s been going on?” Nimbus asked.
“It’s nothing,” Octavia dismissed
“All that sweat says otherwise.”
She looked back at her grey coat, Nimbus was right, it was glistening. Still, she didn’t want to talk about it, so she continued on in silence.
Nimbus sighed deeply, and rhetorically stated, “Mare, you are one messed up pony, you know that?”
Yes.
The menu was the same, while it wasn’t bad food, anypony could tell the chefs were the ponies who couldn’t make it in Canterlot. It was not particularly bad, an acquired taste, one might say.
She had just gotten her tray when an older looking stallion came up next to her, “Hey, follow me.”
Especially considering where they were at the moment, following him seemed like an incredibly poor choice, but something about him seemed trust worthy. He led her to the very corner of the cafeteria, to one of the tables at which barely anypony sat.
Now sitting across from him, she took a moment to look him over. He seemed gentle enough, though she knew that appearances meant nothing, all she had to do to remind herself was to look into a mirror. He was in fact, fairly old, so whatever he did might have landed him life, but he also looked fit enough that what he did could have been recent.
“So how long have you been in?” He asked.
“About four years,” she quickly lied.
“So you haven’t been in here quite long enough to know not to lie to me.”
Octavia rose an eyebrow.
He thought for a moment, “I’d guess you have maybe 11 months or a year under your belt.”
Octavia was surprised since he had hit the nail on the head, “How long have you been in here, and be honest.”
“Why, so far, all you've done is lie to me.”
Octavia rolled her eyes, “It was one answer.”
He smiled, “Okay, fine, let’s do this, every time you say a lie to me, I will tell a lie to you, though most likely not immediately after.”
“Very well then, answer my question.”
“I’ve been in for a good eight years now. Which means, of course, anypony who’s been here for a while knows who I am. I’m also the one who looks after all the newbies. Which of course, brings us back to you. If you have any trouble, I’m more than happy to help.”
“That all you wanted?” Octavia boredly asked.
“Well I was half expecting you to trust me by now.”
“What do you want?”
“Well, quite frankly,” he scanned up and down Octavia’s shiny coat, “I was expecting you to tell me how you ended up wetter than most of the water in this joint.”
Octavia went pale, “No. Nothing like that has happened to me.”
He snickered, “Fillies these days. You gotta stop listening to the rumors you here in Canterlot ‘bout this place, they’re to scare ponies into not ending up here. Come on, tell me what’s up.”
She poked around at her food obviously if she didn’t even tell Nimbus, then why should she tell this guy. Eight years, that’s quite a lot… she thought. “Wait, what are you in for?”
He stopped eating and leaned back, took a deep breath, and said, “Five accounts of involuntary ponyslaughter.”
The air conditioner kicked on and whirled chilling air down their spines. All around them the loud clamoring of the other inmates resounded and echoed from every wall, but in the tiny corner, everything was quiet.
“What about you?”
“One of negligent homicide,” she said quietly.
“You going to eat anymore?”
She shook her head.
“Come on then, let’s go somewhere a little less noisy.”
The soft cushions, to her dismay, were the most comfortable thing that Octavia had experienced since The Day.
“So tell me about court,” he said, knowing that, while it often brought awful memories, it was a lot better to start there than the crime.
“It was unbearable. I couldn’t talk, I couldn’t look up, I couldn’t stop crying. I don’t think her mother cried as much as I did. When the judge asked how I wanted to plead, I could do anything, so he asked me if I pleaded not guilty. When I shook my head, he asked if I pleaded guilty. I nodded.”
“My court day was just like that. I walked in and I had my head down. I looked up twice, and only said five words. The first time I looked up was when I passed her. I’ll always remember the anger in those eyes. For years before I’d seen their majestic purple glow, but on that day, I looked at them, and they were red as the fires that got me to that day. There were no tears, they weren’t red from rubbing, or sorrow, but from pure rage. I told her ‘I am so sorry’. I wasn’t sorry just for her loss, but for her feelings too. Then I started crying. The next time I looked up was when the judge ask how I pled. I looked up, swallowed, and waited. The word couldn’t come. For a minute I stood there, then I remembered who was behind me. With her there I knew I had to. I couldn't put her through any more. I dropped my head and whispered, ‘guilty’”
“I don’t normally tell anypony this, but I want you to hear it.”
Octavia glanced up.
“Back years ago, when you were probably just a filly, since you look to be about her age, I was, a butler. I worked for one of the richest families in Canterlot. It was early in the morning on December the sixth, and snow was falling in the darkness. I remember waking up at four thirty and heading down stairs. I waited around until my fellow workers came down. They began on their jobs, and at fifteen after five I began to prepare breakfast. It was odd, the stove wouldn’t turn on, so I went to check the gas. I didn’t know much about gas at the time, so the horrid smell I in countered in the basement meant nothing to me. I got to the regulator and turned it up. Then when I returned to the stove I waited a minute before sparking it. The moment I did was the worst moment of my life. My ears went numb, everything around me turned red and orange and hot. My fur and mane burned off from just the heat. I ran as fast as I could to the front door, but something stopped me. In the midst of all the fire was a wooden violin and stand sitting in the concert room. All the other instruments were burning. I grabbed it and ran out, although doing so caused me to get worse burns everywhere. Standing in the snow that day was unimaginable. I could hear the screaming of a colt and his parents and two chefs and a maid. On top of my burns I developed frost bite, and I stood watching the house until long after I was told I need to go to the hospital. I stayed until I could no longer hear the shouting, until I knew it was too late. My son came by the hospital that night, and I told him to run home, put the violin in my room, lock the door and windows, and to bring me the key. One day I’ll be brave enough to give it to her, since it is hers. What about you, are you comfortable talking about your day?”
Octavia looked up, without her consent her mouth began to form words, “I was also a maid, after a series of unfortunate events. I was giving little Honey Blossom a bath when the doorbell rang. I told myself that it was just a package, or Professor Broad Leaf forgot his keys again. I went down to get it, and it was a few of Daisy Day’s friends. Since she was gone, I told them directions to get to where she was. When I went back upstairs, he was under the water…”
Octavia fought back tears, “And ever since then my life has been a lie, I've told all sorts of ponies all sorts of lies to sound tougher. I've said I've lived on the street, and said I've worked for a dealer, and, and, and oh, the nightmares.”
“Octavia, I need you to do something for me.”
“What is it?”
“Heed her, but only when you are ready.”
She nodded and they went their separate ways.
Heed her, but only when you are ready.
Who is ‘Her’?
Heed her, but only when you are ready.
Do I know her already?
Heed her, but only when you are ready.
When will I be ready?
Heed her, but only when you are ready.
How did he know my name was Octavia?