//------------------------------// // Run // Story: Stroll // by re- Yamsmos //------------------------------// Octavia had just arrived at her domicile from a long, tiresome day of school—her bags full of fresh new books and a happy spring in her step she'd never before showcased to the entirety of both her family's little home downtown and the wonderful country of Equestria itself—when she was gazed at by her tired-eyed father, chokingly hugged by her lovely mother, and given the news that her middle Labrador Daisy had passed away during the afternoon. Now, Octavia had been a big pony, and by this time she was enrolled in the seventh grade at the local middle school in her town, so her attitude was strong, her posture was already perfectly straight, and her days were filled with the simplest teen worries of forgetting what day it was or not studying for a test. Octavia was a big pony. Big ponies had to be strong, and she knew that, even as she looked about to find her little brother and older sister tearing at their eyelids and wailing to the walls and furniture with enough volume to echo through the halls. Tears prickled at her eyes in kind, but Octavia needed only to shakily suck in a breath of recycled air and lift her gray chin. She continued to breathe as the cries of her family surrounded her, her purple eyes glazing over and the living room growing increasingly larger and wider as her life droned onward, a musical locomotive with no end in mind. Her green saddlebags were still wet from the rain outside, the front door still cracked widely ajar to give the inclement weather the opportunity to join in. Her pink bowtie was still tightly strapped around her neck, the white collar encompassing it firmly chafing her fur and burning the skin underneath like little fire ants on a gray, gray beach. She had tracked a gathering of wet, sloppy mud into the house, and she was sure that she would get an ear thoroughly chewed off and a couple of unimpressed frowns from her guardians when she turned around to find the pair of dark brown U shapes trailing along the carpet. There were none. Octavia maintained her big pony status as long as she possibly could. It was a bit of a long-standing, unofficial, well-kept tradition of hers whenever grave news struck her family. Her older sister was known blood-wide to be a bit fragile when it came down to things that could possibly upset her. She would cry and she would cry until there were no more tears, and only fruitless throes of retching that got nopony anywhere. Her younger brother was, as was evident, younger than she, and expected to cry whenever something went particularly amiss. Octavia was the middle child, and with a glass vase of a sister and a teddy bear of a brother, she was expected to take up the mantle of being the big pony, because nopony else would. She maintained this, kept this, like she was constantly refurbishing her prized bass with fine rosin and soft towels. Under the bridge, around the scroll, with the grain, lengthwise along the hairs. Octavia had been standing in the center of the living room when she heard a sound that brought on another horrendous volley that she wasn't prepared for. When they were puppies, she'd gone out by herself to buy her new dogs name plates for the front of their rough collars. They had been three bits each, and each second she'd spent watching the engraver spell out a name became simple agony and then to mind-numbing torture. She was immensely proud of herself for doing all of it by her lonesome, and decided that she'd put them on her faithful companions' collars in the same vein. It had taken a couple hours of squirming, brow wiping, and little filly swears, but they hung proudly from their mismatched attachments along the restrainers and shone in the light of her family's kitchen lamp. They made a distinct sound whenever the dog it was attached to walked. A simple clang, clang, like a pair of keys tapping against one another in the mercy of gravity. Clang, clang. Blinking became impossible. Her mouth remained firmly shut. She stared straight ahead, an intent of focusing on the kitchen sink going unforgotten and useless. She didn't need to look down to see Buddy, his bright yellow coat tarnished with mud and dirt and his light steps slow and shaky along the wooden floor underneath him. The Lab simply stalked over to a corner of the room without a single word or audible breath, stood still and silent for an achingly long few seconds, and sat down and curled up into a ball with his back facing Octavia and her family. His chest didn't even rise, and Octavia knew he was still breathing. And then there it came. A low, guttural, distant whine, from the deep pits of her clouding mind and the shadowed corner on the other side of the living room. Octavia w– She... She brought a foreleg up and turned the knob over the bathroom sink. A flurry of crystal clear water sputtered from the silver sink head, splashing the bowl around it and washing away the long dried-up splotches of what appeared to be blood and toothpaste. Octavia waited until the marble was completely clean before she leaned her head forward, placed her hoof under the running current, and spattered the water she'd collected across her face. Slowly shaking her head, she placed her other foreleg on the countertop and rubbed at her eyes, dragging the appendages down her cheeks with a heavy sigh that fogged up the mirror in front of her. She didn't want to address the certain mess that she currently appeared to be, but her purple eyes drew upward all the same. She cared about only one thing, and she adjusted said one thing with a violently shaking wet hoof and a pair of tired eyes she'd only seen in the surface of the spoon she'd dig into the depths of her ice cream pails back home. Her bowtie looked as presentable and as straight as ever. She shut her eyes and sucked in a deep breath of claustrophobic air, letting it out as she backpedaled and brushed a few locks of hair out of her eyes. "Godsdammit..." She felt something tickle at her nose. Scrunching up her muzzle, she reached up with a sniffle and a hoof to wipe away the now apparent excrement she would have otherwise let loose unto the world. She blinked once, and then twice, hoping that she'd snap out of her current mood like the horrendous crack of a whip and calmly, briskly, step out of the hospital bathroom without a single ounce of despair upon her features. She couldn't just walk out with tears running down her face and eyes red as blood, if her reputation and dignity were anything to properly maintain and constantly refurbish. A knocking on the door to her immediate right roused her from her thoughts. "Octavia, are you alright in there?" It was L... or Lavi, apparently. She hadn't ignored Valkyrie's rude "slip-up" out on the streets a few hours prior. Octavia raised a hoof up to her mouth and, with a grimace, cleared her throat with no less than four coughs. To be completely honest, she was feeling like... trash at the moment, but a good, convinceable lie never hurt anypony. "Yes, I... I'm fine, Lavi." She heard the griffon smack something soft—most likely her head—and groan—most likely because Octavia had used her actual name. She wondered why it was such a sacred thing for them to keep their names private. She inwardly hoped that Lavi hadn't noticed anything different in her voice just then. She wasn't sure what she'd do if the griffons found out she'd been crying. She was sure, however, that there would be mass ridicule, mainly from Valkyrie, akin to flubbing a note at one of her highly-esteemed orchestra concerts, where filthy rich aristocrats and chin-high nobles would gawk, point, and laugh at her with their clothed legs and their stupid accents and guttural speaking patterns, in that exact order. "Are you sure, Octavia?" The mare silently sniffled, not expecting the difficulty she was presented with for the action. She felt words creep up her throat, but she only gave out a loud "mmhm" and a nod to people who couldn't see her within the confinements of her prison cell that doubled as a public bathroom in a hospital in a town in a country ruled by ponies just like her. A hospital with blood and toothpaste in its sinks, a town with rude daywalkers and snippy ponies manning the gates, and a sprawling country with four-legged equines with wings on their backs, strength in their hooves, or horns on their heads amidst a shambling of hairs that blew in the wind and were impossible to tear out if they felt angry enough to even attempt it. She turned to her right and took a few steps toward the bathroom door, making sure to wipe a pair of clenched eyes free of tears before she blinked flecks of salt away, shook her head, and reached up to pull the door open. Cringing at the audible creak it emitted, Octavia sucked on her bottom lip and surveyed her surroundings, a little nervous she'd done something wrong in a hospital presumably full of incredibly scared dragons with sharp teeth and Diamond Dogs who could scritch scratch their way out of a room composed of stale garlic bread. Instead, the rather normal-looking reception room she and the griffons had stumbled into greeted her in all its white-walled glory and bubbling water cooler noises. The navy blue couches filling the room now serviced two armored griffons; Valkyrie lay fast asleep with her snores echoing through the area, while Lavi clawed at the fabric in an attempt to get more comfortable. The latter looked back up at Octavia as the mare let the door shut quietly, a small smile on her beak betraying the concerned looked in her eyes. The former paid her no mind, and if there was something Octavia could at least feel better about, it was that, and only that. T sat in the corner next to a large potted plant, his right elbow on its orange vase as he read his secretive book in the other claw. Too engrossed in his black words on white paper, he didn't even regard Octavia with one of his nods or one of his eyebrow lifts. She cleared her throat, trying her hardest to make sure it was as quiet as possible. A series of thumps and scrapes thudded along the floor next to her, growing louder in volume by the second. Turning toward the source, Octavia looked at an impressive plating of light tan armor, then gazed higher to look at W's cocky-looking face. He stopped next to her, and, when he didn't say a word, found a pair of purple eyes looking at him curiously. Watching as the griffon placed his back against the wall adjacent her, Octavia took a few steps back, not taking his wide figure into account until she had almost been thudded with his huge wings. A question on her lips, she stopped and looked down at W's claw. A white mug, with a brown liquid steaming inside, was being presented to her. Was that...? No. There was no way. No point in questioning it in the admitted... comfort of her mind. Grabbing at the handle and placing her hoof inside it, she lifted her chin and asked, "Is this...?" "Coffee." Octavia about choked on the tears that threatened to fly down her cheeks. Allowing herself a cheek-pressing smile through the impressive display of defense upon her features, she stared into W's blue eyes and spoke a quiet, breathless, genuine, "Thank you." W simply grinned, a short burst of air blowing out his nostrils as he pulled a mug out from his left side. Octavia silently wondered where and how he'd hidden a most likely burning cup on his person without so much as a seething or a beak chomping, but he had given her a cup herself, so she hadn't a right to complain or ponder in the entire world. Planting her own back against the wall, she opted on remaining on her haunches, planted her rump on the floor, and raised the mug to her lips. If she were any more a mortal mare, she would have surely screamed in terror at the dangerously high temperature of the liquid down her throat. Octavia had braved years of getting up early and chugging the morning brew as if it were the last carton of chocolate milk at her middle school, and she had gained a bit of a resistance to absolutely steaming drinks. That is to say, she still scraped her tongue with her upper teeth and lulled her tongue out all the same. Turning to W with her tongue sitting on her bottom lip, she realized what she was doing and clamped her mouth shut, albeit all too late if the griffon's nasal chuckles were any indication. Scrunching up her nose, she glared at herself, lowered her mug, and asked, "What did the receptionist say?" W took a swig of his cup. "The train ponies got here two days ago," he said once he had finished, "only two of them had any real injuries. Some first-degree burns on one, bleeding ears in the other." "Bleeding... ears?" W leaned forward, reached a foreleg around, and thumped Candidate with so much force Octavia swore it certainly wasn't in the maintenance manual. "Work of a Magicarm," he claimed, reclining once more, "must've been some kind of deafening spell. Pony got lucky, turns out it was a novice spell embedded in the owner's gun. He's fine." Octavia felt the messenger bag around her body grow tighter. She hoped that it hadn't been the stallion with the locket. "And of the other one?" "He's fine too. Simple burning spell, it seems. It's the most common thing you'd put into a Magicarm." Adjusting his position on the floor, he continued, "And by burning, I don't mean like setting them on fire. It's more like... kinda, like uh..." "Like the type you'd receive from a smoldering stove top?" Godsdammit she really needed to get back to that– "Yeah," W laughed, "that's it. But yeah, they're all fine. Should be one..." he leaned forward again, turning left to look down the hall that went further into the hospital's first floor, "...coming here shortly. Nurse said she'd sent for one of them to come out here so he could get that bag of yours." He pointed a talon at it. Octavia moved her foreleg around, realizing she most likely would be free of its additional weight in a short amount of time. "I'm sure he'll be happy to see it even if it's not his. I'm really glad that you held onto it for so long, Octavia." She looked down at the floor. "I'm sure he will be, too." A pattern of clips and clops echoed across the corridor next to them. Octavia turned her head to find the source, then gave the back of W's head the stink eye and leaned more to her right. A rather... huge-looking Earth Pony with a brown coat and a light blonde mane was walking toward the reception room in a bit of hurried state. The calm look in his eyes told a different tale, but Octavia could tell that he was a bit more comfortable sitting by his wounded friends' sides than being away from said wounded friends' sides. She hoped that she could change that, and at least make him not feel regretful when he returned. Trotting past the threshold—his stepping sounds hindered by the carpet now meeting his hooves—the stallion adjusted the white and blue cap atop his head and asked, "Somepony here ta see me?" He spoke with a distinct southern accent, most likely accumulated from time spent around Appleloosa or Dodge Junction. ... She cleared her throat, not letting the two sheriff ponies enter her head again. "That would be me, sir, yes." He turned to Octavia in an instant. "Oh thank Celestia, another pony. Ah swear, this whole town is like... anti-pony or somethin'. Anyway, what'cha need, ma'am?" Now was the time. Stepping out an inch to her right, she smirked, placed a hoof underneath the bag, and lifted it to show it to the train pony. "I believe that you or one of your friends misplaced this back at your train near the Smokey Mountains." She felt herself give off a now-genuine grin as the train pony's face lit up with a series of nods. "We just came by to give it to you and–" "Did ya get it?" What was... oh! "The locket?" A nod. "Yes, I did." She was suddenly tackled in a bone-crushing hug, one that caused her pupils to shrink to pinpricks and her forelegs to spread eagle into the air. "Oh thank you thank you thank you! Ah wouldn't 've been able to live if Ah never got to see it again!" Well... that was a bit of a terrifying, most likely exaggerated statement. As the stallion stepped back with a wild grin on his muzzle and a pair of gleaming eyes, he added, "Ah don't think ya know how much this means to me. When we started gettin' hit out there, mah first instinct was to hurry inside and get my things, an' then Heavy Weight got burns on him, an' then Chet lost his hearing for a bit, so there was no time since we were all scared an' everything, so we had to go. Thank ya for gettin' mah bag and mah locket back, miss. Ah'll never forget it." Octavia, taking a few steps back as she lifted the bag over her head, smiled at both the weight loss and the satisfaction of a thankful grin. "No big deal, sir. I hope that you and your friends recuperate and recover in due time to head back home." The train pony threw the bag over his body and lifted the flap off it, reaching inside and grabbing for the locket, which he pulled out and opened. Wordlessly smiling at it for a while, he snorted and looked back up at Octavia. W, as well, turned his head to raise a sly brow at her. "Thank ya, again." "It was my pleasure." Getting up, Octavia bent down and bit into her now empty mug, walking over to the coffee table in the middle of the room and setting it gently on the top of the furniture. Watching as a black claw placed another mug on it as well, Octavia smiled, turned her head, and began to prod at Lavi's side in an attempt to wake her up. The griffon, shaking her head and widening her eyes, glared at her. "I was asleep for like ten minutes." "Get up, Lavi. It's gonna get a lot worse when we wake up Valkyrie," W said from behind Octavia. She could just picture his unimpressed frown and straight stature. Lavi got up with a loud groan, catching the attention of T, who began to rise as well. "Yeah yeah, whatever old-timer. You want me to do it, or what?" Octavia about-faced and started trotting toward the front door as W chuckled in response. "What, you want to die today?" The mare turned her head to find Lavi rubbing at her eyes in a painful-looking display of claws against meat. "Sure as hell feel like it right now, yeah." "For Sputnik's sake, don't be a bunch of chicks about it. I'll end up killing one of you at some point anyway," the voice of Valkyrie spat out, accompanying the aggressive griffon's ascent from the couch with an itching on her scalp and a growl in her throat. Gripping the sides of the furniture with enough force to sink her talons into it, she frowned a deep frown and surveyed the room huffily, "Ugh, are we done yet?" Her eyes landed on the train pony now trying to place the locket back into his bag. She pointed at him with a rolling of her eyes, "Seriously? This is the guy we came here for? God, if we were gonna try finding train trash, I'd find your mom, Lavi–" "Shut up, jackass," Lavi replied, "we're about to leave anyway." Valkyrie hopped off the couch and began stalking toward Octavia, mumbling something under her breath as the rest of the griffons started heading toward the door as well. Brushing past the mare, Valkyrie opened the first set of doors and walked out of the room in silence. Stepping aside to allow the griffons to pass, Octavia took the caboose and trotted out to the outside as well. A voice, from behind her, stopped her however. Turning her head, she glimpsed the train pony waving a hoof at her. "Hey, if y'all're ever in Appleloosa, look me up! Ah could help get ya wherever ya wanna go on the train!" Octavia smiled. "I'll be sure to!" Beginning to walk forward again, Octavia cursed to herself, bit on her bottom lip, and turned again. "I don't believe I got your–" The door into the first floor's corridors shut with a hiss. "–name." Octavia pressed a frown into her cheeks, contemplated chasing after him, then agreed that it wouldn't be too much of a good idea. He'd most likely rather be with his friends right now, anyhow. She was sure he wouldn't be hard to find if she ever found her way out south, so with a flick of her tail and a snort, Octavia walked out and joined the other griffons in the light of the blazing sun outside. Or, well, what she expected to be the light of the blazing sun. Walking out from underneath the rather long roof past the front door, she stood by W's side and stared up at the gray clouds and falling rain bursting from the sky. She frowned. She wasn't really in the mood to get wet after such a horrid encounter inside the bathroom. Looking up at W, she groaned, "Lovely. Now I'm going to get drenched in a town full of onlookers and jay-walkers." W, rubbing at his chin, craned his neck and reached for a bag on his left side. Rifling through it for a time, he brought out his right claw and presented to Octavia what he had retrieved for her. What it was was... something Octavia wasn't all too impressed with, and she inwardly wondered why exactly he had such a thing on him. A white polyester baseball cap with an all black bill. Octavia had never played baseball as a kid, and never really intended to, and a baseball cap most certainly wasn't something she'd wear out in public. If she saw "Octavia Philharmonica Wears Middle-Class Attire" in the paper in the coming weeks, she'd blow a fuse and finally destroy the ficus in her house. She eyed the hat almost cautiously until W spoke. "C'mon now. Better than nothing, right?" Octavia gave out a small sigh, straightened her posture, and grabbed the baseball cap from W's claws. Pressing it atop her head, she moved a few locks of hair around and made sure it was tight enough on her scalp. If she was going to wear such an item, she'd do so as stylishly and correct as possible. She wasn't a fond lover of putting her mane in a ponytail, and she hadn't had any hair bands anyhow, so her definition of correct was going to have to be a little disfigured. Finally satisfied with her adjustments, she looked up at W to find that he was grinning. "Looks better on you than me." Valkyrie seemed to disagree, a claw over her beak as she snickered. Lavi was quick to glare her way. T was on the more positive spectrum, tilting his head and pouting out his bottom beak as if to say, "Not bad." Octavia blew at a few more locks of her hair swaying in the top of her vision. She'd have to get used to the hat's bill being in her way, but she had to admit that she was a bit thankful she'd be at least a little protected from the torrent of rain above. Maybe she could grow to like it, as... uncouth an article it was. Looking back at her feathered companions, she found them standing still and leering up at the sky. Pursing her lips, she ordered, "Come on then, let's get through it already." They nodded, though Valkyrie accompanied hers with a look directed at Octavia that almost screamed, "Don't tell me what to do, mud pony." Octavia descended the staircase with the griffons, making sure that she could glare at the egg yolk the whole way down.