//------------------------------//
// 4. Lost and Found 
// Story: Getting Complicated 
// by Ivory Piano 
//------------------------------//

Fillydelphia had never been known for its high-brow culture and decorum. Historically, it had been a factory town where everything from toothbrushes to luxury carriages were made and shipped out to the rest of Equestria. But wages were good, ponies were buying, production was at full force. In such conditions, once salt-of-the-earth ponies became interested in the finer things in life; the indulgences of the bourgeois. Combined with a bit of gentrification in the downtown area, Fillydelphia was quickly becoming the new hotspot for both the idle rich and the tooth and nail wealthy. Consequently, a booming housing and construction market, an administration slow to place compensating regulations, and very lax requirements to become a realtor and businessowner made the Fillydelphia area an opportune place for a pony to make a fortune, especially a pony with a...scrappier disposition.
It took Octavia six months.
Six months of hard won negotiations and navigating tricky contracts. Six months of outrageous commissions that the rich paid out of habit, and the slightly better off paid out of ignorance. Six months of coercing and sweet-talking other realtors to work for her and bullying the ones that wouldn't out of the area. Six months of accumulating more bits than she had ever seen as a cellist.
And there, in her throne room, the highest floor of the tallest building in Fillydelphia, Octavia gazed out her window at the steel skeleton of a skyscraper. Several pegasi and earth ponies crawled like ants on the steel beams, slowly but surely growing taller by the day. This was no mere skyscraper, it was her investment. A menagerie of posh apartments whose monthly rent would guarantee her several lifetimes of luxury. All she needed to do was wait for that skeleton to grow some meat, and her bags of bits would rival those of the royal coffers.
Octavia turned away, tired of waiting for the future, and poured herself a glass of whiskey. She sank into the cushions of her recliner with a contented sigh, leaned back, and stared at the furnishings of her apartment. The crystal chandelier hanging high above her, at the impressionist paintings that Octavia liked solely for their color, the fine rug she walked around to avoid wearing down its pile with her hooves, the couches and chairs that would never be filled, and the dozens of knick-knacks and tchotchkes said to be some ancient relics of some ancient civilizations from the far off land of who-knows-where. She listened to nothing but her heart drumming in her ears. She sipped her whiskey.
In this one, singular moment she was content.
A tap on one of her windows made her freeze. She sunk deeper into her seat and kept her eyes staring at the chandelier. Octavia was alone, the tap of glass must have come from the outside, which meant it was a pegasus, and there really was no pegasus that Octavia wanted to speak with. Several minutes passed with no more noise from the glass, but just as the tension melted from her shoulders, a knock on her front door made her clench again. Just as with the window, the knock only came once. Octavia breathed deep and took another sip.
"Hey Octavia!"
Her glass of whiskey fell to stain the rug as Pinkie's blue eyes filled Octavia's vision. Octavia jolted, brought a hoof to her chest, and Pinkie Pie grinned at her as if the pink pony had been invited over for tea and scones. Once Octavia's heart stopped trying to escape its cage, she stood and glared at the black cello case strapped to Pinkie's back.
"Get that thing out of here," Octavia said. She stood from her chair and picked up the fallen glass.
"But I need to return it. Oh! And this too." Pinkie set down and opened the case, and Octavia quickly turned her head away in order to avoid looking upon the gleaming cello that Macintosh had made her. Pinkie, meanwhile, plucked a folded sheet of paper from between the strings and held it out to Octavia. Octavia took it, unfolded it, and stared at the grand staff scribbled there.
"This is..."
Pinkie's smile widened. "Macintosh copied it from the wall in your old room. You know, before the place got sold."
Octavia traced a hoof across the bass clef. It was an exact replica of the music she had written on her bedroom wall. Not a single mistake. She squashed the smile pulling at her lips and clenched her teeth. After crumpling up the paper, she threw it at the cello.
"Why did you bring these to me?"
"Applejack wanted me to," Pinkie said. "She thought that it was high time Mac got rid of this stuff." Pinkie sucked in her lips as an awkward silence developed between them.
"Did my leaving hit him hard?"
"Duh! Breaking up is hard no matter who it is," Pinkie said. 
Break up? Ah yes, Octavia supposed that was indeed what had happened. Strange, she never thought of it with such an uncompromising term. She always thought of it simply as 'she left'. A deep, choking cold gripped at the deepest pit of her chest. She fought it off, and it receded.
"At first we didn't see much of him at all. He pretty much just spent his time working on his farm in Canterlot. He's a lot better now, though! I talked to him just yesterday before I left." 
"Ah, so…he's recovered," Octavia said. She didn't know why she felt so hurt by that. That creeping cold came gnawing back.
Pinkie scanned the apartment. "But how're you doing? Are you okay?"
Octavia sneered. "Isn't it obvious?" She poured more whiskey into her empty glass and took a sip.
"Well, I just thought you wouldn't be happy without your cello," Pinkie Pie said.
"Oh please, Pinkie," Octavia laughed. "The only reason I ever bothered with the cello was because I thought it would bring me wealth. Now that I have everything I want, I don't need it anymore."
Pinkie tilted her head and stared deep into Octavia's eyes. Octavia quickly turned away under the guise of pouring more whiskey in her glass, but she still felt Pinkie's intense gaze burning her back. It wasn't an angry look, it wasn't even an inquisitive look. It was a look that penetrated into a pony to find the one thing Pinkie understood and recognized most.
"If you're really happy, Octavia, then I'm glad." Her eyes fell to the crumpled paper by the cello, and she grabbed it. She unfurled the paper and pressed out as many of the wrinkles she could. Pinkie then folded the paper back into a neat square and placed it back between the cello strings. She closed up the case and gave Octavia a faint smile. "It was really good seeing you again, maybe we can hang out sometime. Not now, though. I gotta head back."
Octavia stared in honest surprise as Pinkie headed to the front door. Pinkie's hoof reached for the door knob. "Is...is that it?" Octavia asked. "Aren't you going to ask me to come back?"
"Why would I?" Pinkie asked with a tilt of her head.
Octavia took a step back. "That is, I mean..." She forced a smirk on her face. "I just thought that if everypony figured out where I was I'd get quite the talking to from Rarity or Rainbow Dash or, Celestia forbid, Applejack. I'm actually surprised you managed to find me despite how careful I was. No interviews, no photographs, I even use my company's name in the Classifieds. How did you do it?"
Pinkie Pie tilted her head even more until it was a good ninety degrees. "Macintosh told me."
Octavia's heart choked her. "Wh-what? H-how?"
Pinkie shrugged. "I think a mare from Canterlot told him."
"If that's the case then...where is everypony?" Octavia asked. "I thought for sure that the second Macintosh knew where I was he would...that you all would..." She trailed off and stared at her whiskey-stained rug. Pinkie approached and placed her hoof on Octavia's shoulder.
"Octi, it's not like we don't care that you left. Believe me, you leaving made everypony either really sad or really, really mad. But we all know that this was your choice, and it's what you wanted to do, and it's not really our place to try to bring you back. That's all between you and Mackey."
"So, that's it?" Octavia asked, turning away.
"Is there something wrong?" Pinkie asked.
“No, no, of course not,” Octavia said. She backed away from Pinkie and stared out the window. “I simply expected more calamity to break out once everypony knew my whereabouts. I’m actually quite relieved.”
“Oh okay.” Pinkie smiled and came to stand beside Octavia. “I’m sorry it didn’t work out. I was really rooting for you two.”
“You were?”
“Yeah, duh! I was the one that introduced you two, remember?” Pinkie Pie chuckled, but it was faint and distant, a mile and a year away. “I thought you two were perfect for each other. You needed to be spoiled and Macintosh loves spoiling ponies.”
Octavia nodded. “He spoiled me rotten. Sorry to keep you. I won’t any longer.”
“Okie dokie lokie,” Pinkie Pie said. “I’ll make super duper sure to visit often, okay?”
“Yes, I’d...yes.” Octavia didn’t make eye contact.
“Hopefully I'll see ya in two days!” The sound of a door closing and opening signaled Pinkie’s departure.
"Wait, why in two days?"
No answer came.
Octavia stood very still for very long. She shivered. She grabbed her glass and placed it on the counter. She lit her fireplace, and the warm orange glow danced across the cello case.
She shouldn’t. She couldn’t. But it had been so long since she held a cello and felt the strings try to slice into her calloused hoof. With a sigh, she unclasped the lock. The wood shone brilliantly even by firelight. Octavia ran a hoof across its highly polished surface. She strummed the strings and heard the familiar open chord. Its beauty made Octavia’s heart brittle and small and cold.
Octavia lifted the cello away from its case. She hefted it up, carried it, and felt its weight. Something rattled inside. Her ear twitched. She gently shook the cello. There was definitely something there.
After a bit of finagling, she managed to get a small wooden figure out of the cello. It was a sculpture of wood, no bigger than her hoof, of a pony standing on a base. It was her. The hardwood seemed almost softened by the craftsmanship. Her mane looked ready to waft in the wind. Her bowtie seemed wrinkled and breathable. Her eyes were wide and kind, her mouth a warm smile.
The smile. Only Macintosh could have carved this. Octavia had only ever shown that smile to him. Octavia looked away and to her fireplace. She clutched the little piece of wood to her chest, and felt the love within it overwhelm her.
She remembered cold nights by a fireplace, She remembered playing Macintosh's favorite song for him. She remembered the notes cradling the chilled air. She remembered Macintosh resting peacefully beside her, listening until she finished. Then she would join him, and bury her nose in his neck and breathe deeply the scent of freshly turned earth and the sweetness of apples. And she would feel...she would feel...
Octavia clenched her jaw and shoved the cello and the wooden figurine back into the case. She locked it all up and hid it deep in one of her many closets. 
That time was over. This was the way it had to be.





“Ms. Octavia?”
Octavia had her forehead pressed against the glass window of her office. She opened her eyes slowly, the familiar Fillydelphia skyline held none of its usual comfort. A night of rest had done nothing for her mood.
“What is it?” Octavia didn’t turn to greet her assistant.
“There have been complaints about the quality of caviar served at the open houses.”
“Buy better caviar then.”
“I’m sorry, ma’am, but we’re already buying the best.”
Octavia sighed. “Then buy cheaper caviar and toss it with salt, strip the label and replace it with some French-sounding gibberish in fancy script. Then rave about how it’s an exclusive brand eaten by the nobles of some far off land.”
“Will...will that really work?”
“It will. Is there anything else?”
“I brought the newspaper as you asked. Our new classified ad has been published. Also, your one o’clock has arrived.”
“Send them in.”
Her assistant left, and Octavia was alone once again. She needed to focus. She couldn’t keep yearning for the past like this. She turned away from the window and looked through the classified ads. Her advertisement for realtors came out exactly to her specifications. There were plenty of pictures of bits, and the ad took up almost half the page. Octavia couldn’t help but smile at the perfection.
It dwarfed the other ads and made them utterly insignificant. So sorry, Pierto’s Uptown Couture. Too bad, All-Stallion Reverie. You’re out of luck, Royal Farm #26.
Octavia’s heart almost burst at the name of Macintosh’s farm. She squinted to read the minuscule ad copy.


Farmhand Wanted
Room and Board Included
Honest Work; Good Pay


Octavia swatted the newspaper off her desk and it fell in a mess of sheets. She couldn’t read another word. It looked as if things were moving along just fine at the farm.
"It's nice to see you're as volatile as always."
Octavia recognized the voice. It was a voice that she had come to utterly despise. Dulcet Tones leaned against the door frame, her glasses slightly askew. She stared at Octavia with a peculiar blend of amusement and disdain. Octavia couldn't quite tell whether the sneer on Dulcet's lips was contemptuous or just cheeky.
"And what are you doing here?" Octavia asked. "Here to lecture me about my life choices?"
Dulcet laughed. "Why would I waste my time doing that?" She sauntered in and sat in a seat in front of Octavia's desk. Octavia frowned and took her own seat across from her.
"I'm here strictly on business. Though I wouldn't be opposed to a light chat while I'm here."
"If I wanted your company I would invite you to my apartment. It's bigger than yours."
Dulcet chuckled. "Yes, but it's in Fillydelphia. It doesn't really count."
Octavia scowled. "What do you want?"
"Simply put, I want to buy this impressive, little business you've built for yourself."
"And why would I give you my golden goose?"
"Does that mean you're not willing to sell?"
Octavia's mouth pressed into a hard line. "I have my price, but I doubt you would be willing to pay it."
"You're most likely correct." Dulcet Tones took out a slip of parchment and a pen, scribbled, and slid the slip face down toward Octavia. "Let's not waste time in meaningless banter and negotiations. Here is what I'm willing to pay. I will advise you, my first offer is always my best." A sly grin curled the corners of Dulcet's mouth. "But I suppose you already know that."
Octavia glared but decided against a response. She flipped over the parchment and scoffed. "That's it? I'll make that amount within five years."
"That's why it's called an investment and not a gamble."
"Well I call it a crappy offer." Octavia stood. "If that really is your best, then we have nothing more to-" She stopped herself as she remembered a small detail Pinkie Pie had told her.
Dulcet quirked an eyebrow as Octavia fell uncharacteristically silent for a moment.
"Did you tell Macintosh where I was?" Octavia asked.
"Hmm?" Dulcet replied. "Who?"
Octavia glared. Dulcet knew full well who she was talking about. "The red stallion with the muscles and accent."
"Oh him," Dulcet said, with a smirk. "If my memory is to be trusted, and these days it's not guaranteed, then I believe you might have come up in conversation when he came to remove the last of your furniture from the apartment in Canterlot. I happened to mention that you had started a quaint business dabbling in realty, land development, and construction in Fillydelphia. Of course, this was some months ago. I can't remember the exact details."
"Did he say anything?" Octavia asked.
"To finding out where you were? No. He said absolutely nothing. He simply stared off to nowhere. But I did ask him a bit of an indulgent question. I asked him if he could tell you anything at that moment what would it be."
Octavia waited for Dulcet to elaborate, but a minute of eye contact passed by in silence.
"Well?" Octavia prodded. "What did he say?"
Dulcet gave her a devilish smile. "What do you think he said?"
"Really? We're playing this game now?"
"Not a game, just curiosity. What do you think he said? Give me a guess and I'll tell you."
Octavia rolled her eyes but complied. "Knowing him and his naïveté he probably said something silly like 'I'd tell her I want her to be happy' or something along those lines."
"Close." Dulcet laughed a quiet, hollow laugh. A laugh of nostalgia. Dulcet stood up and scooted the chair into the desk. She made for the exit, but stopped halfway and looked over her shoulder.
"He said, 'Don't you dare come crawling back'."
Octavia's heart cracked. She gripped the edge of her desk and grit her teeth as she fought to hold back a sudden wellspring of tears behind her eyes. Was this really it? Had she really tossed everything away? To think that even Macintosh would want to say something like that to her. Macintosh! The one stallion that had absolutely adored her. Loved her with every part of his heart and soul.
Dulcet laughed deep from her gut. "Oh I wish you could see the look on your face!" She grinned. "I can't believe you actually bought it!"
Octavia blinked. "You mean, he-"
"What point would there be in talking to him? You think I strike up conversations with every pony that moved out of that building when I bought it? How idiotic can you be?"
Octavia gritted her teeth. "You-"
"Do forgive me," Dulcet said without a single drop of sincerity. "I really can't help myself. There's just something oddly satisfying to me about watching a pony suffer the same way I have. Ta-ta."
Octavia threw her name plaque at the old mare, but Dulcet had made a hasty exit, and the hard metal thudded against the heavy oak of her office door. 
With nothing to vent her rage with, Octavia could only clutch the edge of her desk and stare daggers at the unmarred surface. Her anger churned her gut, forced its way up her throat, and finally escaped from between her gritted teeth in a fierce yell of despair.
Octavia raised her hoof and slammed it down on her intercom.
"Cancel all of today's meetings and showings! Take the rest of the day off! We're closing early!"
"Y-Yes, ma'am," her assistant's warbled voice answered.
Octavia left her office in a daze. Even early in the afternoon, crowds of ponies walked the streets making their way to complete the small tasks of everyday life. Octavia kept her eyes to the ground, staring at the passing hooves. Habit led her through the streets toward home as the more aware parts of her mind dwelled on nostalgic thoughts.
This choice. She made it freely, willingly. She knew it had to be done. Why couldn't he? Her heart was breaking, slowly shattering, shedding pieces of itself like a bird in molt. She would have an empty chest by the time she reached her front door.
Octavia hit a solid mass and was knocked on her flank. Looking up, she found Rainbow Dash standing over her. The hood of her blue and gold Wonderbolts uniform flopped at her neck, allowing Octavia a clear view of her face. The ex-cellist gulped as Rainbow Dash turned away from the Wonderbolt she had been talking to.
"Aw crap, sorry about-" Dash began to say, but stopped as she saw who had bumped into her. A thick grimace of disgust contorted her face, as if she had stepped on something excreted by a beast of burden. Dash said nothing else. She raised her head, looked straight in front of her, and continued to walk without paying Octavia any mind. 
The other Wonderbolt hesitated in confusion at first, but caught up a moment later. "Do you know her?"
"I thought I did," Rainbow Dash replied.
Octavia's heart fell to pieces. She collected the remains and hurried back home, half-jogging the rest of the way. When she finally arrived home, she slammed the door behind her and collapsed on the rug. She couldn't move, she couldn't feel. She felt as alive as that wooden effigy locked securely in her cello case.
"This is the way it has to be," Octavia told herself. She chanted it like a sacred prayer, a charm against the feelings threatening to break her resolve. These feelings would surely pass. She would soon forget the pain. And then all would be well..
"This is the way it has to be."





Octavia never moved from her place on the rug. It was where she slept, and it was where she awoke. A light tap from the door stirred her awake, and the sound of paper sliding against the wood floor tittered her ear. She felt disgusting. Her face felt damp with tears, mucus, sweat, and drool. She wiped her mouth with a foreleg and stumbled to the front door.
A small envelope lay there, a couple feet inside. Octavia tilted her head at it, at her name written in chunky, slightly clunky lettering. Obviously someone not used to handling a quill. She picked it up, and opened the front door to see if there was anyone on the other side. There wasn't.
With a suspicious narrowing of her eyes, Octavia retreated to her dining room table and opened the envelope carefully, just in case there was some unwanted dust lacing whatever might be inside. She shook it and tapped it against the edge of the table. No dust. Satisfied, she pulled out a folded piece of thick paper. A poster. Unfolding it revealed an advertisement for a Wonderbolts show: a pegasus all clad in gold and blue soared through the sky and left streaks of color behind them. Across the top, the poster announced in bright, saturated letters the star attraction: Rainbow Dash. 
Along with the poster came a single ticket for the show.
It was today.
Octavia smirked. Someone wanted her at the show no doubt, and she laughed at a potential assassination plot. But if someone wanted to kill her, she would hope they wouldn't be so obvious. She remembered Pinkie's words: 'I'll see you in two days'. It was more than likely this is what she meant. Well, fine. Going outside and watching a show might be fun, and even if Rainbow Dash refused Octavia's existence, it didn't mean that Octavia couldn't enjoy hers. There was something about a flight suit that erotically charged a pony's form more than mundane nudity ever could.
Octavia sniffed the air.
Shower first.

Octavia had a little history with Fillydelphia Stadium. It had been hastily built only five months ago when the city had been chosen to host the Ponylympics. At the time, Octavia was gaining experience at one of the largest architectural firms in Equestria. Her role had been small: simple clerical work. Basically making sure that plans and permits had been properly filed with the city. Enterprising and ambitious as she was, Octavia had the forethought to adjust a few numbers here and there. No one double checked them, of course, rushed as they were to complete construction.
Ultimately, the stadium was built with a plumbing system ill-equipped to handle the amount of ponies at even half capacity. To this day ponies could be heard telling stories of the horrendous smell that plagued the opening ceremony.
Months later, when the owners decided that the terrible facilities were ruining ticket sales, they decided to renovate the stadium, and Octavia's fledgling realty and construction business had the winning bid, thousands of bits lower than her competitors.
Design is cheap when you already have the plans, after all.
So when Octavia passed through the opening gates with hundreds of other ponies entering the stadium, it was with the peace of mind that the bathrooms wouldn't pose an unfortunate distraction to the day's show. 
Speaking of smells, even Octavia wasn't immune to the savory scent of fried chips and processed cheese sauce. Feeling in good spirits, she decided to grab some cheap nachos from the concession and have a little snack during the preshow flights.
Octavia didn't bother to find her seat and instead stood at a central point on one of the several mezzanines that surrounded the field. She balanced her nachos on the railing and ate as she watched the effortless loop de loops, rolls, and dives meant to warm up the crowd before the main event.
She savored the salty crunch of the chip and the gooey heat of the cheese. These simple yet unique pleasures she had sorely missed after obtaining her wealth. Appearances were everything in her industry, and you had to look the part to gain the trust of the fabulously rich. Octavia sighed as she became lost in thought.
"Check out that guy in the cloud box."
Octavia's ear twitched as a pair of stallions started a conversation nearby.
"What about him?"
"Talk in the tabloids says he's Rainbow Dash's coltfriend."
Octavia's breath caught in her throat. She stared at her food as the processed cheese curdled in her stomach.
"No way, she ain't the type to date an earth pony."
"Oh yeah? What, you're her pal now? You best friends with her? Painting your hooves and braiding each other's manes?"
"Shut up."
Octavia clenched her jaw as ground her teeth together. She tightly shut her eyes. No, of course it wouldn't be him. They could be talking about any earth pony stallion. Dash wouldn't…they would never…it was only talk.
Octavia swallowed hard, opened her eyes, and looked up at one of the many clouds floating above the stadium's perimeter. She spotted a speck of red and orange high up there. While the details were difficult to discern, there was no doubt who that silhouette belonged to.
She needed the bathroom.

Octavia retched into the toilet and leaned heavily against the bathroom stall. Damn it. Celestia damn it. She should've known, of course he would be here. Why wouldn't he be? Even if what the stallion had said was just a rumor, it wouldn't be out of the ordinary for Rainbow Dash to invite him and her other friends to see her show. But why this one? Why this show in this city of all places?
Octavia didn't dare close her eyes anymore. Every time she did he saw him. His jaw, his emerald eyes, his freckles, his short mane, his body so charged even mundane nudity could do nothing to dampen its effect on her. She had to leave. Now.
She flushed the toilet and the retch swirled away. For a moment. Then it stopped and floated higher as the toilet started to back up with water. Octavia grimaced. She shouldn't have cheaped out on the pipes.
The crowd roared in applause as Octavia made her hurried exit. She panicked and sought the nearest place of solitude she could find. She found herself in an alleyway beside the stadium. A nice dark corner of the world that suited her just fine in that moment. She didn't care about the smell of refuse and stale alcohol and staler urine. She leaned her head against the rough brick wall and closed her eyes. 
Ever since she saw him up in that cloud, she had tried to keep the memories from washing over her. But they were a tidal wave, and she was less than a sea wall. The wave crashed into her, destroyed her, and she did her best to ignore the tears streaming down her cheeks. She remembered those cold nights against his warmth, where the lonely days of her past seemed like nothing but awful dreams. She remembered the peace of mind he brought her, the absolute assuredeness that everything would be all right.  She remembered days where he suffered the brunt of her unmitigated anger, and how he seemed completely immune to it.
"This is…" she gasped out the words like a mare desperate for breath at the bottom of the ocean, "the way it has…". She couldn't finish her prayer. She no longer believed in its power.
A terrible truth made itself known. So large and unerring that Octavia was forced to contend with it.
She wanted him back.
But how could she? She had taken too long. And now…now he had moved beyond her. There was no way for her to seize what had once been hers.
"Go on ahead, I'll meet with you later."
Octavia grit her teeth at the familiar voice.
"Octavia?"
The ex-cellist turned away, and quickly wiped the tears from her eyes as a purple-maned mare approached her. "Rarity. Here to turn a trick?"
Rarity gave a single-syllabled laugh. "It seems your wit has turned into a blunt instrument since last we met." A pregnant pause. Then, "Come, let's go grab a bite to eat, and you can tell me what's wrong."
Octavia sneered. "What do you care?"
Rarity sighed. "Octavia, despite everything that's happened, I still consider you…"
Octavia tensed, and Rarity quieted.
"No, I take that back," Rarity continued. "The truth is, Octavia, that I am absolutely elated to see you whimper and cry in this disgusting alley. It's not all you deserve, but it's a start. I want to have dinner with you so that I may find out just how miserable you are, and, if I can, multiply your misery tenfold by telling you what's happened with Macintosh since your absence."
Octavia relaxed. "You're paying."
"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Rarity wore a large sun hat with peonies of various colors decorating the brim. She wore a loose fitting cotton dress that still breathed in the unruly heat of summer. Octavia couldn't help but stare as she perused the bistro menu. My but she was so pretty in the late afternoon sun. 
The waiter came, took their order, and a heavy silence fell between them. Rarity only stared into Octavia's eyes, obviously waiting for her to speak first. Octavia had no idea what to say. She had so many questions, but Rarity was the last mare on earth she wanted to ask them to. Not because of any petty rivalry, but because she didn't want the fashionista to know just how much she missed him.
"How's Macintosh?" Octavia finally said after minutes of quiet.
"Why were you crying?" Rarity asked back.
Octavia's body stiffened. "I had something in my eye," she said.
"Then what were you doing in that alleyway?"
"Drinking."
"Octavia…"
The ex-cellist clicked her tongue. "You haven't answered my question."
"Macintosh is better, now." Rarity said as their food arrived. She cut a piece of her raviolo and stabbed it with her fork, but didn't take a bite.
"My leaving hurt him badly, then?"
"What do you think?" Rarity said curtly.
Octavia took a deep breath. "His farmstead?"
"Done," Rarity said. "It took him three months. For three months it seemed he completely disappeared from the face of Equus. None of us saw him, he never answered our letters, we couldn't even find him at first until Applejack suggested checking his farm. We tried to get him to rest, but he wouldn't listen to reason."
"I…I see."
"No, you don't see." Rarity snapped. "When he finished, he slept for four days. Then ran a fever and was bedridden for another seven. He dreamt of you."
Octavia tightened her lips into a line. "How do you know?"
"He spoke in his sleep. Domestic things. Serving you dinner, attending your performances, shopping for groceries, going out to a play. When he woke up he would always ask where you were, then after remembering what you did, he would just stare up at the ceiling and drift back to sleep."
"I…" Octavia didn't know what to say. 
"He loved you, Octavia. He loved you so deeply that I don't think his heart will ever be rid of you, not completely. I mean, it would be one thing if you had just broken up with him but to run away? It's…"
They returned to silence as Octavia stared down at her apple salad. Guilt swelled in her chest like a cloud of spores. It sprouted and writhed inside her like mycelium burrowing through the earth. But amidst the fungal growth she felt…hope. If Macintosh really cared for her that deeply then maybe she could…return, after all.
"Would he…" Octavia began, but took a sip of water to quench her quickly drying mouth. "Do you think he would-"
"Well if it isn't the prissiest mares in Equestria!" Another familiar voice called out before Octavia could finish. Both mares turned their heads to see Rainbow Dash, out of her Wonderbolts uniform, heading toward them. Rainbow's mane was slightly damp from a shower. She seemed in a fantastic mood, she didn't even seem to mind Octavia's presence. Octavia tilted her head in thought as Rainbow approached.
She seemed elated, no, that wasn't it. Smug. Absolutely smug. About what, Octavia couldn't say. But she had this saunter to her step that stunk with superiority. Even as Rainbow took a chair from a nearby table, she couldn't help but give a bit of flair and spin it in place beside them. The pegasus gave them a cocky smile as she sat. "How'd you like the show?"
"Fine."
"It was nice."
The two spoke at the same time, and Rainbow was not impressed with their enthusiasm. "Well what did you think of the ending?"
"I…stepped out early," Octavia said.
"Sorry, Rainbow Dash, but I also had to leave before the grand finale." Rarity said.
Rainbow Dash deflated immediately. "You mean I got an earful from Mac for nothing? Jeez, coulda saved me the trouble of sending you that envelope."
Octavia nodded in realization. "Ah, so that was you."
Rarity glared at Dash. "What did you do?"
"I did the most dangerous dive of my life, is what I did!" Rainbow Dash said, and that cocky smile came back in full force. "Honest to Celestia, I was so close to the grass it tickled my nose and made me sneeze. But don't worry, I still managed to pull back up with a sweet barrel roll."
Rarity rolled her eyes. "And what did you do after that? I can't imagine Macintosh would get terse with you over a stunt."
Rainbow Dash snickered and flashed her teeth in a grin. "Well, they were doing an on-field interview after my amazing performance. Some guy had a mic and everything. And that's when I announced that Macintosh was my coltfriend."
Octavia dropped her fork on her empty plate. "C-coltfriend. You mean, you and…and,"
"Rainbow Dash!" Rarity said in a harsh whisper. "No wonder Macintosh was upset. Spreading such a bold-faced lie like that."
Octavia felt the tension leave her shoulders. She hadn't even known she was so stiff.
"What lie? It's been a big rumor for months, and it's basically decided anyway."
"By whom!?" Rarity said, a little louder than she meant to be. Rarity blushed, and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. They hadn't. "By whom?" Rarity repeated softly this time.
"Then you're pursuing him?" Octavia butted in. "Macintosh, I mean."
Rainbow Dash turned to Octavia and looked at her, really looked at her, for the first time. Her lip curled in something between a grin and a sneer. "Yeah, I am."
"As am I," Rarity added with the same tone as an answer to a simple math problem.
"Right," Rainbow Dash continued. She glared at Octavia, and Octavia never broke eye contact and met glare for glare, and leer for leer. Her ego was ignited now. 
"I messed up. I trusted you to have Macintosh's back. That was a bad call, and that's on me. I'm not gonna make the same mistake again. Macintosh is gonna be with me, and I'll make sure a pony never takes advantage of him again."
Rainbow Dash stood up and gave an annoyed grunt. "Lost my appetite. I'll see you around, Rarity."
"Actually, Dash, I'm finished eating," Rarity said as she placed a few bits on the table. She locked eyes with Octavia. "I wouldn't put it in exactly the same way. But I agree with Rainbow Dash. We were satisfied to fall back when you two first came together, but circumstances are…different now. 
"It was lovely meeting with you again, but I wouldn't be too bothered if this were our last outing together." She gave a nod to Dash, and the two of them headed for the exit, but before either of them took a single step, Octavia spoke.
"I've decided to return." Though the two stopped in their tracks, neither of them turned to face her. Octavia continued. "You said it yourself, Rarity: Macintosh's heart will never be rid of me. I'll use that to my advantage, and I'll make him mine again."
"That all?" Rainbow Dash said.
"No," Octavia replied. "I want both of you to remember this. I have something neither of you could dream of. He chose me."
"We all have decisions we regret," Rarity said. She took the first step forward, and Rainbow Dash followed only a split second behind. "I'll be sure you regret this one."
"I wouldn't have it any other way."

Octavia barged into her own home with all the force of a rabid tornado. She slammed the door behind her and threw every suitcase she had onto every surface she had. Couches, coffee tables, night stands. She had so much to do. Not only did she have to pack, she had to sell her company.
Sell her company.
Just the thought made her smile. No longer having to deal with the whims of the wealthy, no longer having to read pages and pages of land reports. No longer having to work at all and yet still enjoy the luxuries her wealth could afford her. Yes, if she sold the company she would have a tidy sum that would last the rest of her life. Sure, if she had more time she could have created more wealth for herself, but these new…developments meant that the sooner she returned the better.
Yes, and she would present that sum of bits to Macintosh, and all will be forgiven. How could he not. Surely, he'd understand. This was just a little tangent in their lives together, a small detour that allowed her to earn the money that would allow them to live in comfort. That's what she'll tell him, and he'll forgive her, and they'll be together. Then she'll be happy and rich. What more could a pony ask for?
She packed everything she would want in her life with Macintosh. Which mostly amounted to clothing, which meant about a small suitcase's worth of bow ties. She stared at the half-filled luggage and chuckled. Perhaps she had been too excited at first. She shut the suitcase and went for the phone. She had to arrange a flight, an auction perhaps, some sort of notice of her absence. So much to do, so much to do.
Within two hours Octavia was seated first class on the fastest dirigible she could find. She could hardly contain her excitement as it alighted in Canterlot. The city hadn't changed a bit since she last saw it. The ornate spires and towers of royalty held a panache that the skyscrapers of Fillydelphia just couldn't compete with. She took a note to spend more time in the city in the near future. She missed it more than she ever expected to.
From the city, it was simply a matter of hailing a taxi, and then a mile or so hike up the mountain and toward Macintosh's farm. Though her luggage didn't make the trek any easier. But when the sight of the farm came into view, Octavia knew it had indeed been worth it.
Macintosh had worked his magic, just as she knew he would all those months ago. The hard-packed clay had transformed into dark and rich loamy earth. Octavia's hooves sank gently into the soil with each step. And there, in the distant, stood Macintosh's farmstead.
It was a sprawling two story cabin built of peeled logs and beams that seemed to shimmer in the sunset. Were it made of steel and glass, no pony alive would hesitate to call it a mansion. She remembered Macintosh speaking of his dream home. A place so large yet cozy that it could entertain and host dozens of guests all at once. She remembered him wondering to himself whether he should build the homestead out of cedar or pine. She wondered which type of wood he had ultimately decided on.
Whichever wood it was made of, Octavia's eyes watered just from the sight of it. She dragged her luggage through the earth, and hopped the stairs onto the large porch where several wood chairs stood at the ready.
Octavia took a deep breath and knocked.
Several seconds passed before she heard the familiar hoofsteps. The knob turned. The door opened. Octavia's heart leapt as she saw his usual half-lidded gaze.
"I'm home!" She announced.
The door slammed in her face.