Ponyville. Octavia never expected to find herself in somewhere so… quaint. The stifling quiet was a sharp contrast to the bustling noise of the city she hailed from, a single drawn out note wavering in an empty auditorium compared to the rich sonorous cries of a big band playing for a crowd of thousands. Without the din she found herself turning inward more than she’d like, her brain rising up to match the cacophony it expected.
As it were, the early morning of Ponyville left little shelter for her ailing mind and she felt her mood threaten to flag as she knocked firmly on the door of the pony meant to greet her.
They had something of a welcoming committee in this town, apparently, and Strawberry Sunrise was to be her entourage. Why she needed a guide to venture through the approximately ten blocks of town and acres of farmland was entirely beyond her. Still, it would be rude to deny a town its customs so welcomed she would be.
Maybe.
There was no noise from within the small cottage. Another round of knocks and another round of encompassing silence. She’d accept a grumbled reply, a yawn, a ‘one minute!’—anything!
Her third round of knocks was devoid of any pleasantry, hoofing the line between pushy inlaw and police officer. This drew something out of the occupant, a string of faint curses unintelligible through the sturdy door. Some stumbling, more cursing, and finally the door swung open.
“Hello?” Octavia asked. She resolved to keep a neutral expression despite the whole display.
“Yeah, hi. You must be…” The mare in front of her was disheveled, a pegasus pony with a fiery mane and equally fiery countenance.
“Octavia. Charmed. You must be Strawberry Sunrise.” Octavia couldn’t see much past Strawberry’s shoulder but from what she could see of the cottage’s interior, it seemed… empty. Almost devoid of the warmth she expected from small town living.
“That’s me.” The mare managed a smile through her exhaustion. “The usual welcoming party is out on important friendship business so here I am.”
They stood there for several moments, letting the day pass by between them. Octavia couldn’t blame her: if Strawberry really had just woken up she was surprisingly coherent. Not to mention the silence became at least a little more bearable with another soul to focus on. No longer was she alone in an unfamiliar landscape! Before her was a guide, her north star in a world devoid of direction.
Still, as nice as it was to enjoy the morning air with another pony, she fully intended to be in motion by now. “So. What’s first on the docket for today?”
Strawberry tapped her hoof against her chin, the rising sun making the emerald in her eyes sparkle. “First I reckon we could tour the shops here in Ponyville. Cover the essentials, y’know?”
Octavia nodded, happy to finally cover some ground. As small as Ponyville was, she knew as well as anypony else that a little help couldn’t hurt. The decision to move hadn’t been entirely her own—money was getting tight in Canterlot as rents continued to rise and a musician’s salary was looking smaller and smaller in comparison. Out here? Picking up work with the local orchestra could square away the better part of a home loan. It wasn’t as glamorous as Canterlot but she appreciated food and running water more than pomp and circumstance.
“I seriously cannot believe they have me doing this,” Strawberry groused.
Octavia turned to face her guide, who was currently looking at everything except Octavia. Octavia couldn’t blame her; Ponyville oozed rural charm.
“Showing me around?” she asked. “I appreciate it regardless of whether they’re twisting your hoof or not.”
Strawberry turned her gaze to Octavia and for the briefest moment something of a smile danced across her face before a more neutral expression replaced it.
“I mean, there’s not much to show you.” Strawberry gestured broadly to the area around them. The avenue was lined with small shops outside which hung signs detailing all manner of foods. “This is where you go to get food if you’re too lazy to cook.”
The smell of fresh breakfast filled the air. To say it reminded her of restaurant row would be an unfavorable comparison: where the row was devoid of soul or substance this little strip of Ponyville was packed to the gills with it. Out here, as the smell of fried potatoes and hot breakfast pastries mingled with the country air.
Octavia felt closer to ponykind than she had in years.
“Can I ask you a question?” Strawberry asked.
Octavia nearly collided with Strawberry as they came to a halt in the middle.
"Certainly,” she replied. “Goodness knows I've asked you enough, it'd only be fair."
Octavia offered Strawberry a weak smile. She usually didn't like the kind of questions strangers asked. A lot of the time it was about playing parties or weddings for 'exposure'. The worst of it were questions about her voice or her jawline or the way she walked. Questions intended to get a rise out of her.
"Why'd you leave the city? Why Ponyville, of all places?" Strawberry had a distant look on her face, her eyes cloudy and unfocused.
Octavia shrugged, giving the noncommittal answer she had been practicing for months now. "Just needed a change of scenery. Too much hustle and bustle for me."
"Mm," Strawberries lips formed a thin line as she fixed Octavia with a suspicious glare. Octavia released a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding when Strawberry turned away. "I don't believe that for a second but you seem to, so, good enough for me. Anyways, I still have a tour to give. Down that way—” Strawberry gestured forward with her snout “—is where most of the retail shops are. There’s this absurd shop I need to show you.”
As soon as Octavia had got her bearings, they were off again. It wasn’t difficult to navigate, certainly, but it lacked the reliability that Canterlot’s city blocks afforded. She supposed there was a certain thrill to exploration; the feeling of stumbling into a hole in the wall cafe was deeply comforting. To know a city not just by its inhabitants but by its square hoofage, to mark your days by their travels through a winding maze of buildings that lived and breathed just as much as the ponies that worked and resided within; this was one of the many joys Octavia felt.
Joy that would soon melt into confusion as she was stopped by Strawberry in front of a rather unassuming storefront. Through the windows she could see couches of various sizes and designs. Off to the side…
“Quills and Sofas?” Octavia turned to Strawberry Sunrise, eyes desperately searching her face for answers. Strawberry was stoic and nothing, not the crook of her brow or the thin line her lips carved across her muzzle, yielded any explanation. “I don’t understand.”
Strawberry wheeled on Octavia, eyes now gone wild with an implacable madness. “Exactly! It doesn’t make any sense! Why would you sell quills and sofas in the same store?”
Octavia broke. At first it was a titter, a gentle giggle that barely escaped her trembling lips. Then she began to laugh and once she started there was no stopping. Before long she was doubled over, falling into the packed earth of the road and howling with mirth. She was only dimly aware of Strawberry crashing down in laughter beside her, their hoots and hollers filling the morning air.
Steadily, and with many deep breaths, stability found her once again. She blinked the tears from her eyes and stared up into the pale blue sky that stretched out above her. “It is a bit absurd, isn’t it?”
“Yeah,” Strawberry conceded. Octavia could feel Strawberry suck in a deep breath, her voice still tinged with humor. “Just a bit.”
"So." Octavia made no move to stand up quite yet, appreciating for a moment longer the contrast between the cool earth and the warmth of the sun as it crested the rooftops. "Where's the market?"
At this, Sunrise stood up, dusting her coat off. Octavia thought she looked quite nice like this, with the light of the sun filtering through her mane and setting the whole thing alight. "Just past the shops. Need help getting up?"
"No no, I'm quite capable." Octavia pushed herself to her hooves. shaking her coat out and straightening her mane. Strawberry had already set off, down the way, and Octavia trotted to catch up. "How long have you been here?"
"Ponyville? Five years and some change now, I think.” Strawberries' gaze was distant, scanning the roofline as they trotted along. Octavia found her fascinating. Maybe it was just culture shock and she would eventually adapt to the disparity between country and city folk. Or maybe there was something hidden just below the choppy waters of Strawberries’ moody sea.
“What made you want to leave?” Octavia asked.
Something in Strawberries demeanor had definitely changed. What seemed to be an idle look around the skyline was now a determined effort to avoid eye contact. Octavia didn’t blame her, ultimately; the past was a sacred and dangerous thing.
“How about…” Strawberries voice was quieter than before, distant and reserved. “How about I tell you about it after lunch?”
“So, you were saying?” Octavia folded her forelegs together, resting her chin as she pointed her gaze at Strawberry.
“So, it’s like…” Strawberry shoveled a hoofful of hayfries into her mouth, talking as she chewed. “Mr. and Mrs. Cake, right? There’s no way those two don’t swing. Like, Ponyville has no health codes to speak of and I can’t say I really trust them with my morning croissant.”
This elicited a giggle from Octavia who shook her head to clear the mirth from her mind. “No health codes? At all? No mane nets, no hoof washing; nothing?”
Strawberry shrugged, twirling her hoof in the air as she occupied her mouth with a smoothie. “It’s like… Sure, I don’t doubt that they wash their hooves when they can but like. Who’s going to go out and enforce any of it, right? Definitely not the Mayor.”
Octavia tittered, pushing her daisy and sunflower sandwich off to the side. She never had the stomach to eat much but the food here was good so she didn’t mind taking carryout. So much of what she ate back in Canterlot was so devoid of personality that you might as well be eating saltines for all her taste buds could tell. “This Mayor, is she not the competent type?”
Strawberry shook her head, wiping her mouth free of any lingering crumbs.
She had a very free way about her — in any other situation, Octavia would be aghast to see anypony talk with their mouth full or be so careless with their appearance.
Here? Here she was safe from the crippling societal pressure of being flawless, here she was allowed to be organic. It was nice. “No, no; she’s incredibly good at her job. Just stretched thin ever since Twilight and her friends started doing Element stuff.”
Octavia nodded, more than happy to listen to Strawberry detail Twilight’s appearance and swift defeat of Nightmare Moon. It was news that Octavia had some vague recollection of. She had to do a lot of digging to find where Nightmare Moon was defeated and that was the spark she needed to move. Any place that could remain as off the map as Ponyville while hosting the Elements of Harmony was sure to be the right place to bring the balance of excitement and quiet that Octavia needed to find herself again.
Conversation was pleasant and time rolled on, the sun steadily dipping into the horizon. The two mares parted ways reluctantly. Octavia didn’t want to invite Strawberry over—it’d be too forward, wouldn't it? So it was that she resolved to spend the rest of the night unpacking.
Alone.
Strawberry Sunrise was alone. This was par for the course, an expected trajectory of an average evening for herself. Her and companionship were antipodal, a dim memory near-completely obscured by time and distance. Not to say she didn’t know other ponies or get along with them. She did!
Just, they didn’t treat her like they did their other friends.
She went to parties and joined in all the silly little songs but she was never present in a way that felt like it mattered. She was always one step removed from the good that ponies could do. She had resigned herself to this, pouring her feelings into poetry.
Poetry that nopony would ever see, of course. She was a farmer, not a writer. There was no denying that she wrote but the reality of it all meant that there were a thousand ponies with every combination of scroll, quill, and inkwell under the sun emblazoned on their flank. They were the writers and she was not.
Her bitter reverie was cut short as she heard a knock at the door. There was no way it was the post; Ditzy tried not to deliver this late.
She went over to the door and pushed it open wide.
“You never did tell me why you moved here.” Octavia was there, framed against the night sky by the light that poured from Strawberry’s cottage. She had a bottle of wine tucked under one of her forelegs.
Strawberry smiled awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. "Caught me. C'mon in."
Strawberry stepped aside, ushering for Octavia to come in. She kept the place sparse: a table with two chairs, a loveseat with a small table sat between it and the hearth. More space than she needed, really, but real estate here was cheap and it came with the farmland.
Octavia sat her bottle down on the table before turning to inspect the cupboards. “Where can I find the glasses?”
“Oh! Uh, second cabinet on the left. Top shelf.” Strawberry made a point to retrieve her wine opener before sitting back down.
Octavia was studying two wine glasses intently, her brows knit in concentration.
“Something wrong?” Strawberry asked
“No no, not at all. Just thinking. Back home, we had this set we never used.” Octavia popped the cork out of the bottle, the rich aroma of strawberry red wine filling the room as she poured them both glasses. “My mother said they were for special occasions. Births, funerals, marriages, divorces, birthdays, anniversaries; none of it was special enough. Just more junk I had to pawn off before I could move.”
Strawberry took a sip of her wine, resolving to nurse the rest of the glass. It was good but she was kind of sick of the taste of strawberries. “Mmm, I can imagine what you mean. We never really had the space, y’know? Now that I do… I can’t imagine holding on to a bunch of stuff. Doesn’t do me any good.”
Octavia nodded, her eyes focused on everything but Strawberry. “Tell me, Strawberry, what do you do? I know you’re a farmer just like I’m a musician, but I’m sure there are other ways you like to pass your time.”
Hobbies. Right. Small talk was expected but that didn’t mean she had to like it.
“I write,” she answered
This piqued Octavia’s interest as she leaned forwards, setting her glass off to the side. Strawberry was now all-too aware of the distance between them, the small kitchen table failing to provide an ample barrier. From here she was struck by the rich purple of her eyes, the gentle wave of her mane, the upward curve of her lips. “What kind of writing do you do?”
Strawberry faltered, suddenly terrified of the truth. Still, there was no escaping Octavia’s unwavering gaze. “Poetry, mostly. Lots of sad stuff but plenty of happy things too. Love poems for ponies who will never read them.”
Octavia paused, the curl on her lips dipping slightly as she pulled back and took another drink. The cottage was empty of conversation for a moment with nothing but the chirp of crickets to carry the weight of the tense air. “I’d like to read some, if you don’t mind. Or perhaps you could read me your favorites.”
“I think…” Strawberry felt her stomach twist. “I think I’ll need more wine before I can do that.”
More wine was poured and more wine was drunk until the last drop had been harvested by thirsty lips. It wasn’t long into the night before Strawberry found herself tangled around Octavia, cradling her in the soft expanse of her wings as they pored over her poetry. It wasn’t nearly as mortifying as she expected.
“That one. Go back to that one.” Octavia’s speech was slurring now, all sense of Canterlot petty bourgeois dissolved by alcohol. “The one about missing ponies.”
“Oh, right, yeah. Love that one.” Strawberry cleared her throat.
can i say i miss you
if we've never met?
i can see plainly the space you’ve left for yourself
as of yet unfilled
i think if we met today
id miss you just the same
"Beautiful." Octavias voice was quiet, thick with wine and gentle reverence.
There was silence. Comfortable, warm, shared silence. Then Octavia’s voice, quiet and heavy with fearful reverence. There was a cry for understanding in her tone. “I miss you.”
This earned a look of quiet concern from Strawberry, nuzzling into Octavia in a show of support. She was soft and warm and… crying?
Octavia buried her snout in the crook of Strawberry’s neck and quietly sobbed, her trembling breaths shaking the both of them.
Strawberry was paralyzed; was it something she did? Was leaving home that scary?
“I had to leave, Strawberry. I… there was too much of the old me there. Too much of a pony I wanted to leave behind. It was more than just the rent costs or living alone. I needed to go somewhere I could be myself. Somewhere I could just be Octavia and nopony else.”
Oh. That sounded familiar. Painfully so.
“I… know exactly what you mean.” Strawberry felt Octavia shift, turning to look at her.
Strawberry didn’t dare, couldn’t dare to meet her eyes. She instead fixed her gaze on the window on the far wall. She could see trees dancing in the wind, illuminated by the warm lamplight outside. She focused on the trees.
“Ponyville wasn’t my first choice. Not my second or third either, really. I mean c’mon, have you ever heard of a Pegasus farmer?” Strawberry shook her head before continuing. “Ponyville accepted me. Happily, readily. It was unlike anything else I’ve ever experienced really. No questions about who I used to be, just questions about who I was now.”
Strawberry finally allowed herself to look down at Octavia, wrapped in the fold of her wings, and her heart swelled. There was still an unmistakable trace of sadness in her eyes but with it was something else. Admiration, adoration, acceptance.
Before Octavia could respond, Strawberry leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss on her forehead. “I miss you too.”