//------------------------------// // Octavia Prelude: Second to none // Story: Never Miss A Beat // by TaleweaverTheUnicorn //------------------------------// “Was that the paper?” Ocatavia called, as the door clicked closed.  “Well. . .” her roommate called back, a musical, masculine voice. “No, it seems the delivery pegasus missed us today. There's a letter for you, however.” Lavender eyes rolled furiously in their sockets. Four grey hooves hit plush carpet and padded into the hallway. “If that is true, how could I have received a letter, hmm?” She glared at him, a foalish grin plastered across his well groomed muzzle. “What’s that behind your back?” “Nothing!” Parish shrugged, sidling to the right and left, blocking Ocatavia as she moved to get around him. “Look, look, the letter, look at the letter!” “I do not care one whit about the letter, let me see the paper, you stubborn stallion!” Octavia started going over him instead, trampling him. “What did they say about my performance?!”  “Your Ponyville is showing, my dear.” He laughed, and flopped comically onto his flank. “I am helpless against your farmer’s strength! Please, spare me!” She snorted, stepping over his fallen form to seize the paper. “I am as proper a Canterlot mare as anypony. You could learn from me, exalted ancestry or no.” Parish kept laughing, and Ocatavia gave him one final scathing eye roll before holding up the paper in the crook of a forehoof to read. With each sentence read, her expression darked, storm clouds rolling in to shadow the gray fur. Parish wisely took the opportunity to scramble out of the way. “The second page?” Octavia said quietly, in pure disbelief, a powerful tinder for the flames of anger. “The. Second. Page?!” her voice rose to a shriek. Parish wielded the letter before him like a shield. “Now now dearest, maybe if you read this-” “I don’t give a flying buck about the stupid letter!” She hurled the paper as hard as she could. It went nowhere fast, the abused pages merely separated and drifted about her like snow. “Do you know how hard I worked for that spot? The biggest concert hall in Canterlot! Royalty attended this! And I only merit the second page?!” She stamped her hoof down on the front page, crushing the face of the unicorn who had outdone her.  Whoever she was, she did not know the storm she had brought upon herself, oh no. “Who even is this. . . ‘Vinyl Scratch’?” “You are not aware? Her creations are staple fare at, err, certain specialist establishments.” Parish ran a hooftip through his mane, careful not to upset it too much. “Specialist establishments, pah!” Octavia stamped again on the paper, the grin on the insolent mare’s face still frozen in portrait. She reared, and brought her full strength down upon it, tearing and scattering the paper to the four winds. “What kind of ‘specialist establishments’ do ya mean?!” Her Canterlot accent was slipping, but in her fury, she barely noticed. “Err, well, as you know, what might be referred to in, ahem, impolite company as the, as you say, ‘club scene.’” He quailed under the heat of the ovens in her gaze. “The ‘club scene’, Parish?” Her tone dripped scorn, but she paused. Parish was her dearest friend. He didn’t deserve this, even if he did have terrible taste in venues, as well as in stallions. She stepped forward to offer him a hoof up, bracing with her back hooves as the larger pony pulled himself to his hooves. “. . . I’m sorry. I was. . . I was upset, but that is no excuse. May I make it up to you, somehow?” “You could perhaps read the letter, as I have been suggesting.” He smiled widely, showing perfect teeth. A fast recovery, as ever. “It might turn that frown upside down~” He picked it up in his teeth, dangling it temptingly. With a slightly forced smile, she took it, walking back into the dining room to set it on the table. Before opening it, she took note of the seal. It was quite nice, dark red scented wax, pressed into a beautiful seal, marking the city of Manehattan. Against her will, her heart picked up its pace, skipping from a half time to a quarter time. It did not mean anything, she steeled herself. But Parish was so excited. . . With a quick jab, her hoof shattered the wax, and slipped out the letter. With great joy, we at the Manehattan music awards would like to cordially invite you- She raised her eyes from the letter, meeting those of Parish, who still wore his smile with obvious pride. “You- You knew?” “Oh, it was all I could do not to tell you, my dearest filly!” Parish stuck a forehoof to his forehead. “It’s been agony, waiting for the mail. . . But I feared you would be unsatisfied until you heard from the horse's mouth, as they say,” He snickered, then retreated as she stood, eyes wide. “Now, Octavia, you- Gah!” The breath was pressed out of him as she leapt into a hug, forehooves wrapped about his neck. “Oh, Parish! You darling colt!” She spun him about, rear hooves off the ground, his face turning ever so slightly cyan, as green crept into his normally azure coat.  “Octavia. . . please. . . you forget. . . your strength. . .again. . .Urp. Oh, my stars. . .” She set him down, but could not stop herself from continuing to spin. She could just imagine it now, stepping up to the mainstage to accept a golden award, delicately carved into the shape of her cutie mark. . . The thunderous applause, the promises of more Grand Galloping Gala spots, the fame, the resurgence of classical music across Equestria!  “I knew that experimental performance would catch a critic’s eye!” Octavia sat back down to finish her breakfast, before immediately leaping up again. “You simply must come with me. I would not dream of indulging in the moment without my very best friend.” “Ah, well.” He sat back in his chair, bright expression dimming. “Now, don’t be offended, but I have already accepted another invitation. I will be there, of course, however-”  “Horseshoepin, I presume?” Octavia placed her forehooves on the table. “Once again, Parish?” “He has changed.” Parish’s left forehoof began unconsciously tapping on the finely carved wood of his seat, a common tic of his “He has, Octavia. He has been naught but a perfect gentlecolt in the past weeks.”  “I simply do not want you to get hurt, dearest. Not again” She reached over to place her hoof over his. He squeezed it gently between both of his own. “And for that matter, what happened to being secretive? I do adore having you as a roommate. However, if you intend to be open about your relationship. . . Why do you still require me as your - ahem- cover?” Canterlot was not the kindest city to those who did not fit the mold. And with stallions already in relative short supply, few ponies here took kindly to the idea of decreasing the partner pool even further. The thought made Octavia snort with derision. As if there were not plenty of magical options if a mare still wanted foals. She herself was raised from birth by a single mother, and behold, the product of that love was impressive. “We will be open, but not too open, shall we say.” Parish interrupted her thoughts. He rolled his shoulders in an elegant shrug. “Just enough. Even Canterlot has grown more tolerant in recent years. Besides, eventually you will want to settle down with somepony yourself, and it would be cruel of me to be in the way of such a romance. Octavia Melody does not do anything with less than a whole heart.” Octavia wholeheartedly scoffed. She always made it her mission to do her best at everything she did, but romance? Romance was asking for trouble. Always was. Settle down with somepony indeed.  “I have yet to meet any stallion worthy of the time he takes to speak. Present company excluded. I will, in point of fact, be sorry to let this cover go as well” She patted his azure leg once more, and withdrew her forelimb. “I am afraid Horseshoepin is much the same. I will be cross with you if you allow him to trample you underhoof once again, do you hear me?” “I will be just fine.” He smiled with no theatrics, just kindness. “I’m more worried about you. Whoever will you find to go with you at this late date?”