“Hey, Octavia.” You greet trotting toward the cellist, who, at the moment, was on her haunches with her back against a wall, practically lying down.
“Hello,” She says with a smile and a wave of her hoof. She straightens her posture, realizing she looked a bit less than refined.
“How go things with you-know-who?” You question, seating yourself next to her. “Have you said anything to your would-be marefriend yet?”
With a sigh, Octavia lowers her gaze to the floor. Her smile fades and her eyelids droop. “No, not yet. I mean- I’d love to tell her- right now if I could- but I-” another sigh, “Whenever I see her beautiful face, her lovely eyes, I just…I just can’t.”
“It’s alright,” you try to comfort her, “I’m sure you guys will happily be together very soon.”
“But…but what if we’re not?” Her eyes shut tight; you can see faint trails of tears start to come from their corners. “What if at the end of all my feelings, all my struggle, it’s just all for nothing? Or even worse, what if my feelings make her feel worse? What if she leaves me forever? What if-”
“What if she loves you back?” you interrupt before she can continue her hypothetical self-assault. “What if you two end up being together forever? What if her answering yes is the greatest moment of your life? What then, Octavia?”
“But…she might-”
“And she might not,” your voice is firm, but gentle enough to not be mean towards the lovesick mare, “Octavia in any love story, and I mean any, there’s always a struggle. This long ‘What if?’ moment where a pony imagines the worst case scenario and scares themselves into thinking that it’s reality. And do you know how many times what they imagine happens? Zero. Absolutely none. At the end of the day it was all just in their head.”
“As happy as I am for all of your storybook characters,” Octavia says somewhat bitterly, “This is real life. Ponies aren’t arranged from the beginning to fall in love.” She looks you straight in the eye. “Equestria is no fairytale world.”
You hang your head down in defeat. She’s right; you have to keep your head out of the clouds…
But, the more you think about it: the more she seems...wrong. So wonderfully, delightfully, beautifully wrong. You can’t help the grin that spreads across your muzzle, nor can you contain the giddy chuckle that escapes you as you think of just how perfectly wrong the cellist's claim was.
“What are you laughing about?” she demands angrily, apparently not pleased with you laughing at her.
“I-I,” you stutter over your own mirth, “I don’t know how you can say such a thing with such a perfectly straight face.”
“What?” Her brow furrows in confusion.
“Octavia,” you sweep a hoof around for dramatic emphasis, “Look around you. Equestria, the land ruled by the four princesses, the mistresses of Sun, Moon, Love, and Friendship. Where three different races of ponies live together in harmony. Where whenever evil rises up from the dark, it can be defeated with the power of a few best friends. Where the every-day average pony like you and me can find ourselves in somewhere amazing, like Bridleway. A land filled with magic and love.” You gaze back to look her straight in the eyes, “If there’s one thing that Equestria is: it’s a fairy-tale world.”
Octavia’s eyes close for a moment, lost deep in thought. She starts to smile. Then she giggles quietly to herself. And then, as if a dam had broken, she gives a whole-hearted, joyous laugh.
She turns to you and smiles. She looks so happy; you can almost see the twinkle of joy in her eyes. “Thank you. I needed that.”
“Needed what?” you shrug nonchalantly, “All I did was state the facts.”
“Oh, be quiet,” she jabs you in the arm playfully, “That was amazing what you said. And you know what? It’s right!”
Octavia rises to her hooves, a new look of determination in her eyes. “Tonight,” she declares. “I’ll tell her tonight.”
“Hmm? Is there something special about tonight?” You ask.
“No, not really. Vinyl said she had some sort of present for me. Maybe after that.”
A present? Your eyes light up. Vinyl, you couldn’t have picked a better day.
“I’ll bet it’ll be just perfect for you two.”
“Thanks.” She raced toward the exit.
“Good Luck!” You call after her.
Standing up yourself, you start trotting back toward Coco’s office. Passing the actors, you notice Lyra (looking slightly wobbly in her newly acquired human form) standing in front of a beige mare, or woman as it were. She has curly hair of pink and deep blue that reminds you somewhat of cotton candy.
“Bon-Bon,” Lyra says, still in character, “I-I want you to come with me to Equestria.”
“I…I don’t know if I can,” the other woman (Apparently named Bon-Bon) sighs, “I have a whole life here, my own friends, family. I don’t know if I could live without them.”
“But, I need you!” Lyra cries.
“Why is that?” The mare questions.
“Because I…I…” Lyra leaned in close, her lips just a shade away from Bon-Bon’s. She quickly yanked back shaking her head, her character broken completely. “Sorry, sorry. I can’t, I can’t.”
“Cut!” Hamlet calls through his large megaphone. A blinding light caused the two women to revert to mares. “Lyra, you said that this scene wasn’t going to be a problem for you.”
“I know, I know. But that was before…” her gaze drifts back to the other mare.
“Oh, it’s alright Lyra,” Bon-Bon stays cheery, “I’m sure you’ll get over my bad looks by the time the show opens.”
“I-it’s not you Bon-Bon.” Lyra shakes her head, “It’s really not you.” Her cheeks turned a faint red, which would have been difficult to see if not for her green fur.
Hamlet sighed, “Try to prepare yourself Lyra, we only have three days left.” He picks the megaphone back up. “RESET!”
You chuckle to yourself at the witnessing of this spectacle, filing away what you have witnessed to back of your mind for later use. Continuing to the hallways in back, you scan the walls until you find the familiar door.
“Hello, Coco!” You greet cheerily as you trot into the workroom. The mare jumps and lets out a squeak in fear, covering her head with her hooves. After shivering for a good few seconds, she slowly opens her left eye to take a peek.
“Oh,” she sighs in relief. Her hooves lower to the floor, “Oh, it’s just you.”
“Sorry,” you say as you rub the back of your head with a hoof, “I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Oh, no. It’s not your fault,” she assures, her cheeks reddening in embarrassment, “It’s just, you usually knock first.”
You look back at the still-ajar door. You were uncertain how you had completely forgotten your manners and just charged into her room without thinking. You feel your own face heat up.
“Sorry, again. I’ll make sure to do that from now on.”
“Well…it’s not really necessary,” she says, avoiding eye contact as the blush on her muzzle grows brighter.
“Uh, sure, I guess.”
…
The two of you stand for a second in a dead silence. Neither of you looking the other in the eye.
“Better get to work then.” You finally state, if only to end the awkward situation.
“R-right!” Coco agrees. The two of you make your way to your workstations and begin your daily work session.
Your day of helping Coco had been mostly uneventful. The two of you worked in almost complete silence the whole time. You had to work more than twice as hard to make up for the lost time over the weekend (Which no matter how many times you assured Coco wasn't her fault, she still seemed to feel responsible for). Every now and then, while you were working, you would look up from your sewing work to steal a glance at Coco. You watched her hooves work methodically and thoroughly on every project given to her and glanced at her tail as it waved back and forth, in what was easily the most adorable sense imaginable. You loved to see the small, happy smile that always sat on her muzzle. Every now and then, you thought you could hear her humming a familiar song, but it was so faint that you couldn’t quite place the tune.
However, every time you saw her head move upward, even in the slightest, you quickly shifted your gaze back down to your work. Sometimes when you move to look up at her, you could swear you noticed her blue mane move slightly. As if, it was settling down.
After what seems like an eternity of you two working in near silence, the clock on the wall sounds off the end of your work session. After you place away the various materials, you had been working with. You turn toward the door to make your departure.
“Wait!” You hear Coco call out before you exit the workroom.
“Huh,” you turn around to face the seamstress.
Her eyes shift down to her hooves. Across her muzzle is a bright folly tinge.
“U-um,” she stumbles over her words, “I-I, well I’ve been thinking…” She rubs one of her hooves against her leg, still avoiding direct eye contact. “And I w-wanted to t-tell you that I- I mean, I thought I should say- or no- I have to tell you- Oh, not have- um what I mean is…I…” she sighs to calm herself down. “I-I l… I lo- I l-lov- I l-l-like that you decided to help me with my work.” She finishes, her last words coming out quickly.
“O-oh?” You were confused “Well, um, it’s no trouble. I like working with you, Coco.” You feel your cheeks grow warm. If only you knew how much I like it…
“Yeah, I just wanted to say thank you. So…um…” Before you can even register what is going on, she reaches her forelegs around you and hugs you close to her. “Thank you.”
Your mind reels at what is happening to you. Coco, the adorably beautiful mare you met only six days ago, was holding you in a tight embrace as if she was holding on for dear life. If it wasn’t clear until now, it was made so in this moment. You were not entirely sure about the past few days, but at this moment, you fully, deeply fell in love with this beautiful, kind, shy mare. You were in love with Coco Pommel.
As if they had a mind of their own, your forelegs come off the ground and place themselves against her back. You hug Coco back just as hard.
You are uncertain how long the two of you stay like this. Seconds? Minutes? An hour? It felt like ages to you, and you were perfectly fine with that. You could have stayed like this for all of eternity for all you cared.
“Ummm…am I interrupting something?” a voice (that certainly was not Coco’s) asks.
Oh, great! My favorite little mood killer…
You quickly, though reluctantly, pull back from Coco’s embrace. The two of you facing opposite directions with both sets of eyes facing toward a lower corner. Matching shades of crimson spread across both your cheeks.
“I don’t know what it is you’re talking about, Lyra.” You reply, in an attempt to be firm, but more sounding like a foal caught with a hand full of cookies.
“Uh-huh, sure you don’t…”
You cough awkwardly into your hoof. “Well, I suppose I need to get going. See you tomorrow, Coco.”
“Yeah, I’ll see you.”
With that, you take off as fast as your hooves can carry you. Not looking back to see either of the mares’ reaction. Though, you didn’t really have to guess one.
“Hey! Wait up!” The minty green mare calls as she chases after you. You don't listen to her.
You stop running the second you leave the theatre doors. You wish you could keep going, but you needed to catch your breath. You hear the doors behind you fly open.
“Celestia damn, stallion!” Lyra pants, “Since when can you run that fast?”
“Since I’ve had something that embarrassing happen to me.” You reply.
“Aw, were you two having a moment~?” She sings mockingly.
“I. Hate. You.” You can feel the veins sticking out against your skin as your face tightens in rage.
“Whoa, jeez, sorry,” She steps back fearfully, “I didn’t think it was that bad.”
You take a deep breath in through your nose in an attempt to calm yourself down. “It’s fine, just. Next time you see us like that, try not to interrupt my life.”
“Sure thing.” She smiles. “So judging by how I just found you, you told her, right?”
“No,” you sigh.
“Aw, sorry to hear. Don’t worry; I’m sure you’ll get the courage one day.”
You fall to the concrete sidewalk on your haunches. Your body suddenly feels too heavy for you to stand up, your legs and wings too weak to hold your body off the ground. “I don’t want it to be ‘one day’ Lyra.” You lift your gaze up to the bright blue sky (It's the same color as her eyes…), watching the few puffy, white clouds slowly drift on by. “I can’t just keep on waking up and going to sleep, day after day, hoping that maybe today will finally be the day that I tell her how I feel, that this day will finally be the one that I tell her how much she means to me and how I feel with her and without her.” You lower your gaze down to the sidewalk. “I need it to be soon…”
Lyra sits down on the concrete next to you, raising a hoof to your back, trying to sooth you. It works, though only just.
“...I know.”
That grabs your attention. You turn your head to face her. Her eyes are looking off in some other direction. You remember what you saw during her rehearsal. You had planned to tease her about this, thinking it a wild accusation. It didn’t occur to you that this theory would hold ground.
“What was her name, again?” you ask.
“Bon-Bon.” Lyra smiles. “Her name’s Bon-bon.”
“She seemed nice.” You look over at her; a playful smirk comes to your face. “You two would be cute together.”
Her cheeks suddenly flushed a bright red, but her smile doesn’t falter.
“Thanks.”
“Anytime.” You smile gently.
“So would you and Coco.”
Now it’s your turn to blush. Your mind is suddenly filled with images of you and Coco. The two of you laying together on your couch. You two sitting on your piano bench, you playing a soothing love melody while Coco lays her head on your shoulder. And, the one that makes your cheeks the warmest, the two of you laying together in your bed, your forehooves wrapped around each other, and down below you, the tips of your tails intertwined. Yeah, you two would be cute.
“Hey, Lyra,” you say, momentarily breaking from your reverie, “I…thank you, for this.”
“Hey, no problem,” she smiles, “It’s what I do.”
You raise yourself back to your hooves, stretching your wings out. “I gotta get home; I still have a new toy I haven’t played.”
“So, when are you gonna tell her?” Lyra asks.
You think for a moment, and then the most obvious answer comes to you, “Tomorrow. I’ll tell her tomorrow.”
“That’s the spirit!” Lyra cheers.
“You too Lyra! I want you to kiss that mare by the end of the week, got it?”
“Hey, that’s bit of a rush don’t you think!”
“Oh, that’s right,” you wink impishly, “Your clock's already set two days from now, isn’t it?”
Lyra groans, “Don’t remind me.”
“Hey, just enjoy the blessing you’re given. I'll bet you're gonna make that scene look very convincing.”
“I hate you…”
“Hmhm, hate you too, kid.”
You take off into the skies of Manehattan, leaving behind an eye-rolling, smirking Lyra Heartstrings. That mare…such an oddity, your friendship, but it works. The two of you, through arguments, fights, sarcastic jabs, and the occasional punch, you two continue to make each other a better pony.
You shake your head.
Oh, Lyra. If it wasn’t for you, Celestia only knows where I’d be…
You lift your hooves to the keys, playing a light major chord. The reverberations from the instrument send a tingle down your spine. You continue playing slowly and gently. The music flowing through your body with the eerie, blissful elegance that come with the harpsichord. It was beautiful. You grab the pencil from the table next to you. Working your tongue just so, you sketch the final notes onto a blank manuscript page.
You look down at your finished piece. Only one thing left, a name. You reach to all corners of your mind in order to think of the perfect title. Something beautiful. Something elegant. Something gentle that creates a pleasant mental image.
However, you can’t focus. The more you try to focus, the more images of her come to mind. Then, it all becomes clear. You quickly flick the pencil across the page. The very top of which now proudly proclaims the perfect title:
“The Seamstress”
You fall down onto your couch.
Tomorrow…tomorrow…tomorrow…tomorrow…
Tomorrow she will be mine.