//------------------------------// // Prompt #482: Obsession // Story: Ponywatching // by ThunderTempest //------------------------------// She was poetry, elegant and graceful, but strong when she needed to be. Nopony understood her like I did. She was beautiful, often more than she knew. The few times that I had gotten close to her, my senses had exploded. She was subtle, muted, yet unrepressed. That was simply who she was. She was not the bright sunflower, nor the sweet-smelling rose. She was a well-tended tree, strong, quiet, and unassuming. Her shade was her music, giving everyone who listened to it a reprieve from the rush of life. It was emotional, driven by passion and excellence, a desire to be perfect, a triumph of skill over natural advantages. It was a whisper into my ear, late at night, saying that everything would be as it should be. She only looked at peace when performing, and that was when she was at her most beautiful. When she was caught in the strings of the music, carried aloft, supported on the beautiful sounds. By all rights, she should have been the conductor of the Philarmonic, but us Earth ponies have always been looked down upon by the unicorns. That she had risen to first chair was probably enough for her, and it would have to be enough for me. Still, my heart throbs when she is not around, and listening to her music only sates me so much. I love her, with all of my being, and I want to simply listen to her for forever and a day. My dear Octavia, soon, we shall be together. ***** She wasn’t that coordinated all the time. She stumbled, fell and occasionally walked into things. She was imperfect, flawed, but all the more wondrous for it, because each time, she picked herself back up and kept moving. A lesser pony would have given up, but not her, not my wondrous flower. She was the most colourful flower in the field, the brightest star in the night sky. She burnt more fiercely than ten ponies combined, and yet never seemed to dim or flicker. But I knew the truth. Behind the harsh and tough exterior, she was vulnerable. She wanted somepony to care for her, to look after her, but her pride wouldn’t let her accept it. The heart in my chest beats in time with her drums, I know it does. Her song echoes and rings through my very being, consuming everything, until all that is left is pure, sweet truth. The truth that nopony can understand her like I can – I own every record she has ever made, all of them signed. The papers call her a genius, but I know the truth-she is so far beyond that term, though she always denies it. She is a wildflower, bright and colourful, untamed, and surrounded by grown thorns to protect herself and her beauty, but she simply needs care. Do not fret, Vinyl. I will care for you. ***** Octavia kicked Vinyl on her next pass by the DJ and her ‘date’. “Whoops, Tavi needs to talk to me. Dance with her partner, will ya?” “Wait, Vinyl, do not...” “So, what’cha need Octy?” said Vinyl, as Octavia whirled the two away from their partners for the dance. “My partner, if you can call him that, has been especially odd. He keeps muttering something about flowers and music and forever.” “You got yourself a stalker, Octy,” Vinyl chuckled, “he wants you all to himself. Probably entertaining fantasies of you falling in love with him, or something. Or else, he’s got a rag and the question ‘does this smell like chloroform?’ for you,” said Vinyl, as the two friends moved around the dance floor at the Grand Galloping Gala. “Vinyl, now is not the time for jokes.” “There’s always time for jokes, Tavi. Besides, I’m pretty sure my ‘partner’ wants to do something similar to me. Came up to me, looking all creepy and stalkerish. Started talking about the meaning and subtext of every piece I’ve written.” “Vinyl, your music doesn’t have subtext.” “I know, right?” said Vinyl, “besides, I have a plan. Here’s what we’re gonna do...” ****Time**** Vinyl and Octavia rejoined their stalker partners, just as the musicians on stage started up a much livelier song. With both of the musician’s partner’s suddenly struggling to keep up with the faster-paced dance, Octavia and Vinyl took the leads. Both of the stalkers took that as a sign that the objects of their affections were falling for them. Toward the end of the dance, Vinyl and Octavia spun their partners around and were ‘accidentally’ standing too close. The two stalker’s head collided, knocking them both cold. Then, as the two ponies were dragged off, Vinyl asked the Guard to check the ponies suit pockets. Both revealed unsent love letters and damp rags. “Well, that’s another restraining order that I have to file,” muttered Vinyl, “third this year. I must be on a roll.”