//------------------------------//
// Objects 
// Story: Stroll 
// by re- Yamsmos 
//------------------------------//

	She wasn't entirely sure how he could do it, how he could just... sit there and smoke a cigarette like he was just going to the grocery store, a mission involving the purchasing of more nicotine and assorted vegetables flashing across his orange Unicorn mind. For Gods' sake, she just practically burned his whole apartment down! He was now out of a home, and also out of a job; both were her fault, and yet still here he was, not growling at her from behind a pair of clenched white teeth and not wringing his hooves together like he were dispelling water from a dangerous weapon of a bath towel, planning a surprise attack that would have made Nightmare Moon drop her jaw in complete and utter awe. The smoke drifting upward from the lit cigarette in Sesame's mouth whipped violently away in the cold wind from outside, gone to join its cousins erupting from his apartment back in Tall Tale a far mile or two ago. The look of absolute peace on his face told stories of stillness and calmness, not orange and yellow flowers blooming across the entirety of his humble abode.

Octavia had to honestly admit that his job may not have been the greatest—in fact it... might have been a bit of a scaldingly greasy, intoxicatingly smelly, socially heavy hellhole—but a job was a job, and if it was enough for him to afford a nice home, surely it couldn't have been that unworthy to slave through. All it took was for some... dumb mare and a group of griffons to tear it away from him like wet looseleaf paper during a rainy day at recess, where the schoolyard bullies in all their pimply, gross, unintelligent glory would start their wobbly approach to snatch her drawing journal away from underneath its gray umbrella and throw it into a nearby puddle, with a bug or two drifting atop its surface like an eternal game of Play Dead. Gods, what a bunch of shriveled prunes. She hoped they were having as bad a time as befitted them in their early years.

She remembered a young mare back when she was in her high school years. She and Octavia weren't exactly friends per say, but they exchanged quiet waves and grinned greetings whenever they spotted one another in the brightly-lit halls like they were. This mare—who Octavia now dreadfully realized she had misplaced the name of—was a badass. She was cool and collected, and she was charismatic and intelligent as hell, but she was so so stupid in the end whenever it came to anything school related. This mare was smart, and even as she slowly discovered pain medicine and alcohol, she remained smart. She continued to be such a thing even as her once amazing grades plummeted to big red F's and universities began pulling their wanting of her for their building. The mare simply didn't care, even when she finally had ponies begin telling her that she would have a hard time surviving after school ended. Not caring was something so unreal to Octavia, something that she would certainly never consider as long as she lived on this green earth, something that would mean the very end of Octavia Philharmonica and all she stood for. Caring in the first place was what had gotten her through her horrible high school with good grades, through the fancy musical academy with standing ovations, and through every day of her early adult life plagued by black notes on white paper and that damned ficus sitting condescendingly in the corner of her small room. 

Gods, what would have happened if she hadn't cared for all those years? If she had just went the way of that one mare—who came to every one of her classes stumbling and bumbling away like some putrid drunkard with no alcohol at hoof—and just quietly sat there as her impressive and promising school records began to positively burn up and whisk away into the cold night sky, a smile on her face and a soft reassurance of, "This is fine," plaguing her pink tongue. Sesame had a great idea of wondering where else he would go after losing really everything in his possession. It was an admittedly crucial topic to ponder, one that Octavia should... probably think of pondering as well. If she hadn't cared all her life, she most likely wouldn't end up with all the wonders that she currently held. She wouldn't have had the good fortune of her nice apartment in Canterlot, despite all the ice cream and shower crying she had partaken in inside its walls. She wouldn't have been able to meet Mane Williams while buying yet another bottle of Caberneigh, where she had apparently blacked out after shaking his old hoof and had to be carried outside into the rain so that she wouldn't deter any would-be customers from shopping there. She wouldn't have been able to have a job where all she had to do was play music, the motion of bowing and plucking coming to her gray hooves absent-mindedly after countless years of playing since grade school.

Then again, if she hadn't cared, she most certainly wouldn't have ended up where she is now: sitting inside a black coal train whizzing past wide fields and tall mountains and crystal clear lakes as it huffed and puffed and steamed its way toward the massive city of Baltimare, with its unhealthy assortment of fresh fish markets and uniform-clad sailors walking along the paved streets like they were but normal citizens. The city had great food as far as Octavia could remember, and though she was no longer allowed within fifty yards of that ramen shop down Fourth Street, she'd be damned as could be if she didn't get some noodles in her stomach. She was a tad hungry, now that she thought of it, and if she remembered correctly, there was a nice bakery just a few blocks down the train station. 

The ponies of Baltimare were always nice, and they were always ponies to boot, which, after the events of Tall Tale, was so much of a blessing Octavia may as well have put on nun's robes and stared at the blue, blue sky. She pursed her lips. She wouldn't be there for long anyhow, so she guessed that it wouldn't really matter if they were nice or not. As kind and welcoming as W, T, Lavi, and Sesame were to her uninvited self, her quiet, nice home back in Ponyville called to her a lot more than adventure did. She shook her head, a smile crossing her lips. Just a little while longer, and she'd be on a train back to Ponyville. Home. Then, she could sprint her way across town, fumble with her keys, and turn her oven off. The cookies that she had left in there may end up burnt beyond all recognition—and instead resemble misshapen slops of cow dung—but she could always just buy another box of dough... and then end up eating all of it and then cry in the shower for a while. She'd probably have to buy some ice cream as well. Cookies and creme. Maybe a big spoon to go with it; she'd probably be really hungry.

She'd be home, and not off... stomping around the countryside on an adventure that she shouldn't have been on in the first place. She had just wanted to take a nice, relaxing walk to clear her mind, and now she was accompanied by a group of huge griffons, and a Unicorn who didn't give a speckled rat's arse about how his life had practically burned down before his very eyes. The cigarette in his lips continued to burn idly. Maybe he was just compensating for something by smoking. Maybe it was just a case of sick irony. Maybe he secretly wanted to smother her with secondhand vapor. She certainly deserved it after all she had done to him within a couple hours of meeting him.

Octavia suddenly jumped at the sound of something shaking from next to her ear. For a few seconds—with her purple eyes wide and her hooves trembling—she stared out the window to her right and tried searching for what had broken off of the train's wheels, craning her neck and almost snapping it in her panic. Intending on searching the other side, she instead found the source, and slightly frowned at the yellow box currently grasped in W's talons. He blinked at her in silence from his position in the middle of the aisle, but shook the box once more and lifted it to her eyesight.

"Attendant came by while you were reminiscing, said that they were giving these out for free. Thought you'd want it."

She gave a soft smile and leaned away from her seat, then reached a hoof up and grabbed it from his claws. "Thank you."

W nodded, then turned to walk back to his seat. He stopped, however, and looked back at her. "The train'll reach Baltimare in about an hour or so. You can get some rest, if you want." With that, he was gone again.

The smile on Octavia's lips faltered, and then sank down as she frowned and stared out the window. W knew, didn't he?

She looked back down at the box of candies in her hooves, then gave out a sigh as she opened them up from the top. She sank back into her seat and admired the sun, shining brilliantly at her from behind a sea of white clouds. If he knew, well, he wasn't making this any easier.

She took a hoofful of candy and threw them into her mouth anyway.