Recovery
“Of course dear, I understand. See you soon”
Mixy pressed the telephone receiver firmly against her ear, trying to hear every last sound coming from the other end, as if she didn’t want the conversation to end. She let out a heavy sigh as she heard the receiver hang up on the other end of the line and a dull, flat tone played down the earpiece. She placed her receiver back on top of the dial with a heavy hoof before setting the telephone back on her bedside table. Clasping her light grey hooves together, she laid back into the pillows behind her and contemplated her current state, staring up at the ceiling above herself.
Over the past few days she had slowly started to become more and more disheartened due to her present situation. It had all started when Ostin, her husband, had asked her to help move a heavy metal chest down the stairs that lead from their shed at the bottom of the garden. Unfortunately, due to a mixture the steep incline of the stairs, the rough cobblestone they were made out of, the weight of the chest, the fact that they were both earth ponies and that she was carrying the lower end of the chest, a freak stumble whilst halfway down had resulted in a broken hind leg, which in turn had lead to Ostin panicking, hyperventilating and promptly fainting at her side.
Now, Mixy found herself laid in a sitting position on her bed, with her right hind leg bound in a plaster cast that tended to itch from time to time. Her boredom had just been further added to with the phone conversation she’d just finished. The upcoming weekend was meant to be a weekend when Octavia would have visited them both in Trottingham, which would have given her something to look forward to. However, after talking on the phone with her daughter about a new performance date that clashed with that weekend and would see Octavia as far out of reach as possible, Mixy had cheerfully told her to go to the concert instead, hiding the pang of sadness at not being able to see her only daughter again for while.
With a faint click the door to the bedroom opened allowing Ostin to push the door open with his back as he walked in on his hind legs, holding a small wicker hamper in his fore-hooves. Being able to walk on only your hind legs for prolonged periods of time was quite an impressive talent for a pony, and it was one that Ostin was very proud that his daughter had inherited from him, along with his fashion sense of a bowtie and collar that clung tightly round his neck, though unlike his daughter’s his bow was a rich hue of crimson. However, like Mixy Ostin had a light grey coat (Though he always made a point of saying it had a slight brown tinge to it, however unnoticeable it was) but had a well kept short blonde mane and tail instead of his wife’s sweeping, greyish black hairstyle. He rested the hamper on the bed beside his wife
“So, what did Octavia have to say?” He asked as he jumped up on top of the bed covers and sat on his haunches.
“She’s not coming” Mixy almost whispered “She had a music event going on. I told her to go there instead”
Ostin raised a fore-hoof as if to make a point, but quickly stopped himself, his mouth still slightly agape. Mixy always found this dumbfounded look of his somewhat amusing, even though it had occurred daily ever since she’d first met him several years back. It was as if he’d carefully scripted out everything that was most likely to be said in his head before the conversation and planned his responses beforehand, and then she’d ruined it by saying something he totally wasn’t expecting.
“Well, I suppose that means that I’ll be able to spend lots more time answering to your every need” he finally replied.
“Ostin, please” she pointed to her cast “I think you’ve done enough for me already this week”
“What’s wrong with how I’ve been caring for you so far?” Ostin stuck his bottom lip out, clearly trying to forget the fact that it was mainly due to his butter hooves that his wife was recovering from a broken leg in the first place.
“Well for starters, do I really have to wear a spare set of your pyjamas? “ Mixy outstretched her forehooves, trying to emphasise on the white and blue striped fabric that adorned her body.
“Now, now dear” he gently patted her on the head in a slightly patronising fashion “You know the doctor said you’re to keep warm and comfortable whilst your leg heals. You’ve dressed me up a good few times; I thought I’d return the favour whilst carrying out his demands”
“But couldn’t you find anything else that would be more suited to a mare?”
“Well, my pyjamas were the only clothes that would fit over that pot” he hesitated slightly, carefully planning how best to phrase his next words “…after a great deal of struggling with the bottoms I’ll admit. But you always remark that I look cute in them”
“Yes Ostin, but the same can’t be said when they’re on me!”
Mixy folded her fore-hooves as she sank back into the pillows propping her up once more, pouting with her eyes fixed straight ahead at the wall on the other side of the room, trying to ignore Ostin’s fruitless attempts to make conversation.
“Well, they should be a comfortable fit dear, after all, I have to buy them in Mares sizes given that I’m too small for regular Stallions sizes” Ostin practically beamed.
“I don’t think that’s something you should be proud of, dear”
The smile promptly dropped from Ostin’s face, along with his eyebrows.
“Well, then” Ostin said, a slight smirk beginning to form on his face “If you’re going to be like that then I suppose that just leaves more for me…”
He made a grab for the hamper that he’d set own on the bed, but quicker than he could react Mixy leaned forward and grabbed him by his collar, pulling him into a sitting position next to her.
“Now Ostin, you should know by now that you can’t get away that easily” she released her grip “I’m sorry I’ve acted ungrateful for everything you’ve done for me, I’m just a bit restless as having been stuck in bed the past few days. I do appreciate everything you’ve done for me, including whatever’s in that hamper”
“Well you shan’t be disappointed then” Ostin remarked, propping himself upright and taking the hamper in hoof.
He flipped back the lid, taking out a pair of oven gloves and slipping them over his fore-hooves before gently lift out a large brown glazed pot from the hamper, the word ‘soup’ stamped on it’s front in large, bold black lettering. What type of soup was inside wasn’t apparent, as a heavy lid adorned its top, keeping its contents hot.
Holding the pot nearer to Mixy with an outstretched hoof, Ostin removed the lid. Inside, the hot steam rose off of the watery liquid, whilst generous chunks of carrot, onion, and leek floated about on the surface.
“I made you your favourite broth, m’ lady” Ostin said, trying a very bad attempt as impersonating a butler from a stately home.
Despite all his unfortunate setbacks, such as his weakness and tendency to make all the wrong decisions, there was one thing Mixy was sure about her husband, and that was that his working class background had given him the skills to be able to make some of the best meals from the most basic ingredients.
“Oh, Ostin” She pulled him in for a tight hug.
Ostin quickly reached forward and grabbed the pot with both hooves, ensuring that it wasn’t going to spill its piping hot contents over both of them. The last thing he wanted was to have to spend a week in bed recovering from burns. He could feel the immense strength of Mixy’s fore-hooves slowly constricting his chest as she gave him a kiss on the cheek. As much as he loved her, he had to admit that her immense strength did scare him at times. After a short while, her grip slackened, enabling Ostin to actually get round to serving up some of the broth.
Handing a full bowl to her, he then put the pot back into the hamper and placed it on the floor beside the bed before taking a blanket that they kept folded at the end of the bed and gently pulling it over Mixy. With one final stretch of his fore-hooves, he slowly sank back onto the bed and lay down next to his wife.
“So, do you have any plans for the weekend instead?” Ostin asked, closing his eyes as he let his head sink back into the soft fluffy pillow.
“Oh I’m not sure” Mixy ate a spoonful of the broth before continuing “I might continue with some of my knitting. I still need to make you some new woollen linings for the inside of your winter boots. I know how easily you can feel the cold”
She looked over at Ostin, whose mouth was now hanging agape as he'd quickly begun snoring his way into the land of nod. She did think about waking him, but it was only now that she noticed the dark patches under his eyes, his mane also looked a tad shaggier and she was sure that upon closer inspection that he was also wearing the same bow-tie and collar from the previous day. She then looked back at the broth in her hooves, realising that he must have slaved away most of the morning to make it to try and please her, along with rushing about trying to make her as comfortable as possible. It had clearly taken its toll on him, so sleep was the greatest gift that she could give him in return.
Finishing her broth quickly, she placed the bowl on her bedside cabinet before snuggling down further under the blanket, being careful not only of her leg, but also not to wake her husband. Leaning over and giving him a light kiss on the end of his nuzzle, she shut her eyes and drifted off to sleep in the afternoon sun that flooded in through the bedroom window.
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I'm not sure, since I have problems with punctuation myself, but I feel that there were missing commas in some sentences. And I'm so used to "Octamom/Octadad" that I actually forgot their names...
3787871 Chances are you're probably right. I suffer dreadfully from not being able to think of how to start writing, yet once I get started I find it just as hard to finish a sentence.
It's a little jarring to not see them be referred to as Octamum and Octadad for a change.
I was actually expecting some more humor for this first chapter, but I won't say no to slice-of-life feel-good tales.
Only thing I noticed amiss is your spacing; you jump from double-spacing to single-spacing and then back again seemingly at random. Best pick to do one over the other and then consistently stick with it all throughout. Most people around here do double-spaced paragraphs, and to them it's an absolute horror when someone doesn't do that, which I like to mock occasionally, because it's really kind of ridiculous, but I'll let you decide what to do.
I look forward to more.
3789128 Good thing you pointed out that formatting problem. Seems to be an error from when I copied the text over to the internet.
I'll admit, having them as Ostin and Mixy can be a little jarring yes, but at the end of the day...
"Oh Ostin!" said Octamum
"Oh Mixy!" said Octadad
...sounds even more odd in my opinion.
I was trying to add more humour into this, but after a while it became apparent that that was a bit like trying to run when I can't walk, so I mainly focused on getting the words down. There'll be more humour in future though.
So that's the Octaparents real names, "Mixy" and "ostin".
(With all due respect they really don't sound like compound pony-names that relate to cutie marks.)
And I remember Octamum being a more disturbing and scary character. (Not like I am accusing you of making her OCC.)
It's not Mervyn Peake, but it's a good start for a first fan fic.
3794921 Their full names are actually 'Ostinato Melody' & 'Mixed Media' (Later 'Mixed Melody' after marriage (This will be explained in a later fic, don't worry!)) So hoopefully that should clear up the whole name to cutie mark problem you were having. Their names were actually first revealed several months back here:
http://bobthedalek.deviantart.com/art/Names-To-Faces-406674503
3796042 Okay, tngat explains a lot.
Its also te result of not beinv on DA for so lon.....
"She looked over at Ostin, whose mouth was now hanging agape as he'd quickly begun snoring his way into the land of nod."
That part amused me.