//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 - Morning in Ponyville // Story: Same Song, Second Verse // by Revenant Wings //------------------------------// Octavia stretched luxuriously in the new bed. The morning sun shone into the room and bathed everything in a golden light. It was almost too good to be true. For a moment, Octavia thought she was dreaming and that she would be awakened soon by the sound of a pounding bass. But all she heard was the gentle sound of birds tweeting outside her window. Octavia yawned and got herself out of bed. She contemplated what to do that day. A mental list flashed in her mind consisting of various simple errands – she needed to get new bath items, some groceries, and perhaps find a music store for some note paper. Simple things for a new life in Ponyville. Octavia took one of the few washcloths she had and washed her face. The warm water felt good as she rubbed the washcloth over her. It was nowhere near the feel nor the cleanliness of an actual shower, but it would have to do. Octavia was just finishing washing her face when she heard a patient knocking at the door. How polite. “Coming!” Octavia called. Perhaps it was someone who had noticed the move, or Welcome Abode seeing how her first night had gone. But, as Octavia put the washcloth over the shower door to dry, the knocking came again. This time it was faster and more persistent. “Coming!” Octavia cried again. But the knocking got even faster. Octavia trotted outside of the bathroom. “Coming!” she almost screamed. Octavia went to the door and threw it open, sighing. “May I help you?” she asked with a long blink In front of her was a bright multicolored cart with flags waving all over it and the sound of a brass section playing a rather upbeat song. This was soon joined by a pink earth pony whose mane and tail seemed to poof out uncontrollably, hopping back and forth in front of the cart and singing quite joyously. “Welcome, welcome, welcome; a fine welcome to you!” “Say wha…!?” Octavia gasped at the sight, and did so again when the pink mare suddenly put a pointy hat with a puff of cotton at the top on her head. “Welcome, welcome, welcome; I say ‘how do you do?’” “I don’t even-AAH!” A trumpet was soon blasted right next to her ear, causing Octavia to jump and nearly hit her head on top of the portico. “Welcome, welcome, welcome; I say ‘hip hip hooray!’” “Cut that out!” The mare was now dancing around on her hind hooves, pounding on a drum that could have come from a marching band, the noise thudding on Octavia’s barely-woken ears. “Welcome, welcome, welcome to Ponyville today!” Octavia barely registered the fact that the drum was missing as the mare suddenly slid to her on her hooves across the dirt, completely speechless. “I…” But the mare cut her off before she could say anything else. “Wait for it…” There was a split second of silence before Octavia registered a tiny ‘ding!’ from the cart. Suddenly there was the sound of an explosion; streamers and glitter covered Octavia’s face and her mane was blown back in all directions. Octavia felt one of her eyes begin to twitch. “Huh, normally ponies smile a bit more when I do that." The pink mare giggled. "Hey, hey, what’s your name?” “Octavia…” she muttered, spitting out a streamer that found its way into her mouth and calming the twitch. “Well, Octavia, my name is Pinkie Pie, and I just wanted to welcome you to Ponyville! I saw you come in yesterday with that one nice pony in the red jacket and Promontory with the cart and realized that you might have been moving in so I gathered the rest of the townsponies and told them about our new arrival and we brought sandwiches and cider and I baked those chocolate chip cookies and decided to give you them as a welcoming gift!” Octavia didn’t know what rattled her head more: the mare’s exuberant display earlier or the rapid pace at which she spoke. “Um… thank you” was all she managed to get out. “Hm, not much of a talker, are you?” Pinkie replied. “That’s okay. I like to talk myself.” “Apparently so, since you seem to do so for three ponies,” Octavia said. “Now, could you please excuse me? I need to go and get some things for the house.” “Ooh! Ooh! You should probably know about a few places. Come on!” The mare put her head to Octavia’s back and started pushing. Octavia barely had time to put her hooves to the ground before Pinkie started pushing her along the dirt roads at an unbelievably fast pace, Octavia wearing down a small trail through the town as the pink mare pushed her along, her mane whipping in the air behind her. Octavia suddenly found herself in a screeching halt in the middle of the street and found herself falling forward so her head buried in the dirt. Pinkie grabbed Octavia's face with her hooves, pulled her upright, and twisted her head round so that she was looking at a new building. Inside were various shelves of sundries, boxes containing various multicolored things that ponies went by and misted with water bottles, and various registers and checkout stands. Octavia couldn’t distinguish at the distance she was at, but from the looks it appeared to be— “Here’s the Ponyville grocer!” Pinkie Pie answered the question before Octavia could even finish the thought. “You can get a lot of stuff for your home here. I like to pick up baking supplies, and sometimes come here on errands for Mrs. Cake at Sugarcube Corner whenever I use too much flour.” Octavia barely had time to register this information before Pinkie was at her back and once again pushing her through town. Ponies leapt nimbly out of their way and continued on with their business as though hardly any of them found this the slightest bit unconventional; a few even dutifully brought out brooms and small shoves and began to sweep the dirt back to normal. Octavia was catapulted a few feet upon their next stop and she faceplanted into the ground. Pinkie picked her up in the midst of her daze and pointed to another shop with a quill and a sofa on a wooden sign over the door. “This is Quills and Sofas!” Pinkie said exuberantly. Octavia noted the mare never seemed to run out of energy as though constantly on a sugar high. “If the name sounds reeeeeeally specific, don’t worry. They have a bunch of other stuff for your home, too, like chairs and tables and towels… next door at ‘House and Home’.” Octavia tried to make a mental note of it, but was suddenly launched away before she had a really good look at the store. Part of her wondered why no one seemed to try and stop this mare; helpful as she was being, there almost seemed to be a spark of something unnatural or insanity in her movements, as though she was unable to stop for fear of stopping completely. The last screech was her gentlest, but it still nearly gave her whiplash. She was in front of a rather plain building with a small record over the door and the name of the shop in gilded letters along one of the windows. “And this is Recorderz!” Pinkie said. “I saw you had a musical note cutie mark so I figured I should show you a music shop! The name’s spelt kind of funny, but if you need anything for whatever music you make, this place has probably got it. It’s managed by a funny unicorn who makes his own music that’s cool for parties. Oh! Speaking of which, I should probably take you to the welcome party for you!” Pinkie, hardly letting Octavia have a breather, began pushing her down the streets again. “Wait a minute!” Octavia finally cried out. “I don’t need a welcome party. I just want to get a few things for the house before I go unpack the rest of my boxes.” Pinkie’s pushing slowed down to a trot and eventually to a dead stop at the bottom of the hill leading to Octavia’s house. “…you don’t want a welcome party? Everyone normally likes them. I am Ponyville’s leading party planner after all!” “I just… I’ve had a busy time these last couple of days,” Octavia said exasperatedly. “I just want some time to relax, especially after spending all day moving.” “Oh, okay!” Pinkie hopped around – not walked, hopped – to face Octavia. “It’s fine. Mrs. Cake sometimes tells me I forget I have too much energy sometimes.” “No kidding…” “But if ever you want your welcome party, just let me know! I always bring my Party Cannon wherever I go, so if you want I could make a big party and bring together everypony in Ponyville to come out and meet you and make a few friends!” Octavia smiled weakly, still exhausted after her rocketing through town. “Thanks, but I’ll hold off on that offer.” Party cannon…? “Alright. Well, I’ll see you around!” And Pinkie hopped off – yet again, walking did not seem to be a default speed – through the town and out of sight. Octavia sighed. In the last five minutes she’d gone almost completely around town and was right back where she started, with her guide being a mare that would not be entirely out of place in one of Vinyl’s clubs. She hoped the rest of her time in Ponyville would not be so... exuberant. Despite most of the tour through town being a blur, Octavia managed to find her way back to the grocers. It was bright and lively inside the store, and Octavia picked up some simple things she’d need for the week and purchased a small metal cart to carry it all in. The grocer and the ponies inside had been polite, kind, and helpful, and Octavia felt better from the newer version of Ponyville not including the overbearing antics of Pinkie Pie. As she returned home, she began to hear a strange sound. It sounded like the knock from earlier, but the closer Octavia got to home, the more she realized it wasn’t exactly a knock. It was a thumping sound, as though an entire body was being crashed against the door. When Octavia finally got into sight of her home, she could see the head and body of a grey pegasus mare as it kept smashing into her door. Octavia ran as fast as she could up the hill and to the base of the stairs. “What are you doing!?” she called. “Stop hitting the door!” The pegasus collided one final time with the door and a resounding crack! filled the air. She finally turned around to reveal a pair of golden eyes. “Oh, uh… sorry about that. Do you live here?” “Yes, but how does that lead to you slamming against my door like that!?” “I was trying to get it in the door." The pegasus motioned to the small iron slot just below the door's peephole. "But I just couldn’t get it in.” As she spoke, Octavia watched as one eye started wandering off as though wherever it pleased, and the pegasus had to blink to readjust it. “You could have just left it there on the doorstep, you know," Octavia offered politely. "I would have found it there eventually." “Nuh-uh. If there’s a mail slot and I can fit the mail in, I’m supposed to put it there. It’s the mail pony’s oath.” “That oath doesn’t do you much good when you mix up the routes, Derpy.” Octavia turned around to see a beige male pegasus land nearby and walk up towards them. He looked sternly at the grey pegasus. “You’re supposed to be sorting today.” “Oh, but I normally do the route every other day,” the grey pegasus said confidently. “That means Monday, Wednesday, and Friday,” the beige pegasus said. “It’s a Sunday, so it’s my route.” “Oh. Well, here you go.” The grey pegasus carefully took off the mailbag from around her shoulders and passed it over to the beige pegasus. “Sorry about that. I’ll head back to the office now.” And she flapped away. The beige pegasus turned back to Octavia. “Was anything damaged?” he asked. “Well, I heard a crack…” Octavia thought. “Let’s check the door.” The beige pegasus and Octavia looked at the door. Sure enough, there was a small crack right around the hinges and the mail slot. The beige pegasus slammed his forehead with his hoof. “Ugh… that’s the third time this month. Don’t worry, Miss…?” “Octavia.” “Don’t worry, Miss Octavia. My name’s Care Package, and I’m from the Ponyville Mail Office. We’ll contact your landmare and let her know. I believe it’s Welcome Abode, yes? We’ll let her know and we’ll cover the charge of a new door if necessary.” “Well, thank you for that at least,” Octavia said. “However, do I need to do anything?” “You shouldn’t. At least, I’ll need to double check with my superior. Oh, and you do have a letter. Here you go. And you get a free copy of the Ponyville Express; any further copies can be bought for a small subscription or fee at the Post Office.” Care Package reached into his bag and pulled out a beige letter in a small envelope and a small newspaper roll and handed them to Octavia, gently placing them in her cart. “Anything else you need before I go?” Care Package asked. “Well, I would like to know about where Quills and Sofas is, and where the Ponyville Players are.” “Hm…” Care Package brought a hoof to his chin. “I believe Quills and Sofas is right across a small plaza from Carousel Boutique. That’s the large purple building towards the center of town. The Ponyville Players are in the fountain plaza; look at the town hall, then turn to your right. It should say ‘Ponyville Playhouse’. I don’t think they meet there until Thursdays, though.” “Thank you very much. Will I see you around again?” “I run this route on weekends. Otherwise, if you’re interested, I’m spoken for.” “Oh!” Octavia felt her cheeks get hot and was sure they were bright red. She rubbed the back of her head with a hoof. “Well, I wasn’t asking that far…” “Most do, eventually. Kind of sad when you think about it; now that I’m attached, I have to ward off mares at the pass.” “I swear I never had that thought. It’s not like me to do that.” “Anyways… probably a bad start from me, but you don’t know the types living here.” “How long have you been here?” “About seven years. I love it here. The townsponies are all a little strange but they’re all decent sort, especially compared to Las Pegasus. Well, I’ve got to get on my run. See you around.” As Care Package flew off with a salute, Octavia did find herself thinking he was handsome. And he had the benefit of seemlingly being saner than anyone else in this town. Octavia walked into her house with the cart, wondering how many more strange ponies she would encounter before the end of the day as she looked at the letter. It was from Arpeggio. Octavia was sure it was a new piece or the next setlist. She set the letter on the counter to be read later on and started putting away groceries. When the groceries were put away, Octavia felt exhausted after having been dragged on a tour around town and by the fiasco with the mail pegasi, and wanted nothing more than a shower and to lie down on her bed. But when she went to the bathroom, she was reminded of the fact she had no proper towels nor any soap. So she decided to try and run one last errand and headed off to 'Quills and Sofas' to see about any home goods. She reattached the cart she got from the grocery store and set back out, wearily walking back through town once more. As she was going there, Octavia began to doubt herself. ‘Quills and Sofas’ was a very, very specific name for a store. It was almost as bad as the ‘Scrolls and Tables’ store in Canterlot. Come to think of it, didn’t the pink mare mention another name? She had been going so fast it was hard to tell, or remember, considering the speech was even a blur in her memory. She was not comforted by the appearance of the store. Outside the store was a sign with a quill overlaying a sofa on it. Inside a display window was a small two-seater couch and a large rack of rather fine, expensive quills. Octavia walked inside the store hoping that walls or other ponies inside were obscuring it, but it wasn’t much. There were only couches, sofas, beds, and various quills and ink accessories. Even the pony running the store, who introduced himself to Octavia as Davenport, had a cutie mark of a golden quill over a red sofa. “Um… do you have anything else here?” Octavia asked, awkwardly looking around the store. “Well,” Davenport began, motioning towards a wall, “we have seat covers and we do sell sheet and quilt sets, though it is in rather limited variety. There’s also a few ink pots and various colors of ink for refills, as well as quill stands.” Octavia blinked stupidly as though not fully understanding what Davenport said. “…that’s it?” “Uh… the store is called ‘Quills and Sofas’. I’m kind of stretching it putting a few beds here.” “But you can call your store whatever you want and put in it anything else,” she said, mildly irritated. “Would you please calm down, ma’am? I’m just telling you—” "I would appreciate not being called ma'am, sir," Octavia said, a fire now entering her voice. "And I am a little surprised that you have nothing else in this store. I mean, you can call it whatever you want, but it's really a bad idea to make your inventory so limited." “Miss, please! I… I just have these things because that’s all I know how to sell!” “Well then where can I get some general items for the home if you don’t sell any?” “There’s… there’s the store next door. ‘House and Home’. That should have what you’re looking for.” After a moment of silence, Davenport allowed himself to look at Octavia. “…anything else?” “I’ll take a daybed and the beige leather three-seater,” Octavia spat. Davenport rang her up and promised that the two items would be at her house tomorrow with a crew to put them together, no extra charge of course. Octavia paid Davenport the amount he asked and left the store quietly. As she left, Octavia could swear that Davenport wiped the sweat from his brow and sighed heavily with relief at the sight of her leaving. House and Home treated her much better. A store attendant noticed her coming in fuming and immediately came to her aid, showing her around the store and helping her select whatever she needed. She bought towels, washcloths, various mane and body soaps, cups and plates and silverware, wine glasses, a mirror and a lamp, and a single small dining chair. With the items loaded into the cart, Octavia slowly trundled home, exhausted and irritated though feeling much better after her trip into House and Home. At least most of the basics were now hers, and she looked at the clean, rather monotone set of items she’d bought with a small sense of pride. She would arrange them when she got home, and unpack the rest of her things. And then the new place would finally feel like home, like she really lived and belonged there. As Octavia headed home, she passed by Recorderz. Upon closer inspection, the place was rather clean. Just through the front window, Octavia could see a wall of instruments of various types, racks with instrument care items, a few aisles containing various records and styles, music books, note paper, special marking pens and pencils that would erase easily. At the back of the store, a muted blue unicorn sorted through boxes with a greyish-blue aura. He wore a black, collared shirt with gold buttons and white cuffs. His mane seemed a little wild and spiky like he hadn’t run a brush through it, but otherwise he seemed clean and well-kept. Octavia decided that, of the places she’d been to that day, only two seemed to have anypony with any sanity; House and Home, and this place. It would be worth a look soon. But not right now, and probably not today. Having already exploded once and currently loaded with a full cart, Octavia was ready to go home and rest for the remainder of the day. She sighed and continued walking onwards and up the hill to her house. It hadn’t lost its charm. The white of the house shone in the brightness of the early afternoon and the polished wood sparkled in the sunshine. A slight breeze was blowing and Octavia opened some of the windows and the sliding glass doors. She pulled out the rest of the sandwich from yesterday's lunch and sat in the back sunroom, looking out and enjoying the smell of apple blossoms. Octavia spent the rest of the evening unpacking her things and setting things up. Already she had plans. The daybed would go into the ‘office’. Tomorrow she would search for a hardware store and get some basic tools to put up the mirror. The towels and washcloths were neatly folded and placed inside the bathroom closet. The wine glasses were placed in a special cupboard to themselves, and the plates and silverware and cups went in different ones. The food was sorted between the fridge and the shelves, and Octavia managed to get at least seven of the boxes unpacked. By the time evening came around, Octavia was relaxing in the main room with a record player on and a piece from Pachelbel gently unspooling in the background as she read a book. As she read, her thoughts became distracted. She remembered the unicorn living at the bottom of the hill – Neon Lights – and his talk of remixes. Pachelbel’s Canon in D was one he said he wouldn’t touch. Octavia became newly enraged by the thought. Such impudence! As though it would need anything else! …and yet… …and yet the kicking of her hoof, the dull thud it made against the floor as it gently tapped against the carpet, didn’t sound too horrible. At least, in it's muted form. It kept time and added a rhythm that livened the piece, but did not intrude it. She forced herself to stop her hoof. She was unused to the quiet. It would take some time, this whole living alone and without the sound of a thudding bass, to get used to.