The dark red pegasus continued on his way through the street. Pausing, he noticed the sword he almost tripped over once before. He picked it up, marveling at the design - how it looked so much like a real weapon, despite being made of wood. Contemplating it for a few moments, he carefully picked it up and placed it through the top of one of his bags. Maybe I can take it to a lost-and-found later.
He made his way to the lower commercial district, carefully counting the numbers of the buildings as he passed them. ... 1307, 1309, 1311 ... He stopped in front of a standard store for Canterlot. Rather, it would have been a standard one, had it not been for the record that appeared to be splitting the top of the roof in half. 1313 Stirrup Street. This is the place.
Curious, he stepped inside, glancing around inside. The walls were lined with boxes and boxes of vinyl records. In the background he swore he heard one of the songs that he’d just been introduced to that day; specifically, the one involving ‘restless hearts’ sleeping alone.
Continuing further into the store, he started to hear something he didn’t expect - the faint melody of a stringed instrument. Carefully making sure he didn’t bump any of the merchandise, he followed the surprisingly inviting sound. Up the stairs, halfway down the hallway before it suddenly ended.
He stopped in the hallway for a few minutes, confused and not wanting to chance being heard. Then he wondered why he was worried about that. He tilted his head, an ear cocked, listening for some sign that he wasn’t imagining things. All he heard was the sound of water. Shrugging, he resumed his investigation, peeking into a doorway.
He saw a room that was almost perfectly kept. There was a striking symmetry to the room. There was a clock over the bed, dressers on each side of it, a cello resting precisely at the middle of the edge of the bed and even a tiny mark on the wall was mirrored. Honestly surprised, and even more curious, he leaned into the room, wondering if it continued on the side he couldn't see. It did, the pictures exactly placed in matching places on either side of the doorway, which was in the center of the wall. He rubbed his mane with a hoof, wondering in the silence what kind of pony was this obsessive-compulsive. ... wait, wasn't there the sound of running water a few moments ago?
“Who are you, and what are you doing in my room?”
Enigma turned to the voice, staring in awe at the pony there. An earth pony, ash grey with a charcoal mane, currently dripping wet. The wet hair clung to her cheeks, framing her face ... her anger-filled face.
“Stop staring,” she grabbed a nearby cello bow, violet eyes narrowed, “or you will lose the ability to see entirely.”
He backpedaled, his own eyes wide in horror and frantically trying to find something else for him to focus on. “L-listen, I don’t want troub-” He tripped over the rug, falling flat on his back. He groaned, looking up at her, curling his hindlegs up to protect his vulnerable belly.
The mare stared back at him for a second, her face unreadable. Then she began to smile, shaking her head. “You remind me so much of my roommate.” She put her bow away, holding a hoof out to him. “Octavia Phillaharmonia. Pleasure to meet you.” She glanced at his saddlebag and froze. Slowly, she pulled her hoof back, keeping a wary eye on him.
Confused, he looked down and saw the wooden sword. The wooden sword that was perfectly cut and painted to look like an actual sword. He looked back up, recoiling at the cello bow in his face. He focused on the mare holding the bow, seeing her brow deeply furrowed and the corners of her mouth firmly turned down. Of course, he had no idea what this meant; he only knew that this expression was causing him the most dread he'd ever felt. “... I can explain?”
She glared, kicking a bowl of wax fruit that was on a nearby table. An apple flew through the air, and, with an almost-imperceptible movement of her foreleg, cleanly sliced it into six identical pieces. She placed the razor-sharp edge right up against his throat, pulling so close, their muzzles almost touched. “I will only ask this once, filly. Who sent you?”
He could only stare; the only sign of him still living was a single twitch in his eye. Finally, through the sheer force of will, he was able to say two words.
“ ... n-not female ... ”
He fainted, leaving Octavia staring down at him in surprise.
Thanks to SuperChaosKG for helping me with this chapter! I'll admit, this is shorter than my other chapters, and for that I apologize.
The character choices for the next chapter:
1) Pipsqueak,
2) Lyra Heartstrings,
3) Photo Finish, or
4) None of the above, and continue this for all it's worth.
Have a nice day!
Enigma out.~