Chapter 7: Night
As Octavia’s lips leave yours, you intake a massive breath of air. Her hooves move around your shoulders and her grip tightens as she puts her muzzle in the crook of your neck. Your own hooves, having been hanging beside you all this time, rise up to return her hug.
The two of you sit together for a while. You can feel Octavia’s soothing warmth and breathing, in and out, down your back and wings along with the surprisingly rhythmic activity of the passing outside crowds just audible in your room. Her mane flows down her back, still carrying a light but sweet scent of vanilla from the provided hotel shampoo. Taking a hoof, you gently run it through her hair, all the way down brushing her silky long dark mane and her gray fur underneath.
You look up to the clock. Hours have passed by, either during her practice or your activity afterwards. Either way, the night is here and the only light from the window is from the glow of the city, not the sun.
Octavia lets out a sigh as her grip relaxes, but she leans more of her weight into you. You feel her hoof trace down to your wing as she begins to poke around between some of your feathers. The sensation is a little tickly, almost as if she’s scratching a tiny itch. You let her continue as you begin to rub her back, feeling her fur while her mane is draped over your moving hoof.
Something in your chest feels like it’s welling up and your head is becoming light as the moment sinks in. You are so close to Octavia right now. The two of you have had a wonderful day which will soon come to an end. Tomorrow, her life and bandmates catch up with her. You promised to take her to new things, but... how will she handle it?
Part of you says not to worry, that she’s been living with these circumstances for the better part of her adult life. However, another part of you remembers the way she looked at you at the coffeeshop. Those eyes, full of hope and wonder. Full of trust. Octavia is going to be counting on you to save her from her life and bandmates. To be her hero, just like she said earlier.
Her bandmates. Your conversation with Frederich is still fresh in your mind, sending a shiver down your spine as you realize just how much you’re going to have to deal with him. And Harpo. And Beauty Brass. If the earlier phone call was any indication, then none of them are going to like you for being with her.
For the first time today, true doubt begins to build in your mind a sour your stomach. You let out a sigh as Octavia keeps poking around between your feathers. Suddenly, you feel her stop.
“...Is something wrong?” she asks, a brief pause in her voice.
You open your mouth to respond, but hesitate. It seems like it’d be easy to give a simple affirmative, but the words get caught in your throat and lost in your clouded mind.
This new relationship is going to bring its challenges. Your life was simple before today, but now with her, who knows what your schedule will end up like? Follow to shows or stay behind where you can’t be there for her? And after all of them, her bandmates, oh dear Celestia, her bandmates. You can’t stop the horrid scenarios playing out in your head, each much worse than what was the mere drop of their ire you’ve been subject to already.
Her life and everything in it is about to become yours as well.
“What are you thinking about?” Octavia asks, her head shifting on your shoulder and rubbing your cheek.
“Just... after today,” you say.
“After today what?”
“What it means.”
Octavia is silent for a moment as her hoof stops poking around your wings. You begin to wonder if you had said the wrong thing, but a soft chuckle calms your suddenly rising nerves.
“Are you scared?” she asks.
“Just... Just a bit,” you admit.
She gives a little nuzzle to your neck. “Me too.”
“Really?”
“Yes. I’m scared of what others may say. What my bandmates may do. What we may have to put up with when we return to Canterlot.”
You let out a slow breath, letting her words sink in. While they did not quell your fears, you take a small bit of comfort knowing that at least you both feel the same way.
“But you know what?” Octavia suddenly asks.
“What?”
“I don’t care,” she says plainly. “I don’t care what they say or what they do.” She gives you another little nuzzle. You smile at her words, but wait for her to continue. It sounds like there’s more to her speech, but the seconds tick on as she begins poking at your feathers again.
You feel confusion begin to rise when no more words come. It begins to replace the anxiety, but only with another kind building on the suspense of what Octavia could say next. She doesn’t care what ponies say or do about the two of you, but it feels like it should be followed up with something. That something could come at any moment so you simply wait in silence, hoping that her next words are as encouraging as before. A sigh escapes her lips as she continues fiddling with your feathers, the two of you still wrapped in a hug. Well, even if she doesn’t speak, you can’t really complain about the situation.
For some reason, your mind travels back to a memory as a child when you would visit the doctor. The doctor was nice, knew how to make you feel better if you were ill, and always gave you a lollipop after your appointment. Also, the waiting room always had this toy box with the neatest things in it. There were little push cars, wind up tops, and more. Another fond memory plays of you playing with the toy you would always go straight for, a maze of little metal balls that you guided with a magnet that was built directly into the side of the toy box itself.
This is where you feel you are right now. The old safe waiting room of the doctor’s. Where things were okay there and would be okay afterwards. And so, you’re content to just sit here in Octavia’s embrace, waiting for whatever it is she may say next. The words going through her head, yet to be spoken, probably going into deeper insight of your situation and your newfound relationship.
You find yourself growing more excited at the idea of hearing her express more of what this all means to her, consequences be damned as she’s already said. The words being forged in the mind of the most lovely mare you’ve come to know, sure to be words to uplift your spirit and fan the growing flames in your heart. Patiently you wait for the heavenly sound of her speech; those glorious words she must be piecing together so elegantly and profound like the music that has formed and shaped her glowing beauty.
Listening to her breathing, you notice she takes in a little larger breath than normal. She opens her mouth...
“I like your wings.”
You almost let out a single giggle in surprise. “What?”
“I said I like your wings,” she says, now simply stroking the feathers instead of poking between them. “They’re so warm and soft...”
You’re at a loss for words. Her statement just came from nowhere and you’re scrambling in your mind for a way to respond.
“I’m… glad?” you manage to say.
“I’m a little surprised you’re letting me do this,” she says. “I thought pegasus wings were supposed to be really sensitive.”
“They are, in certain places. Not really the feathers so much,” you explain. “Plus, some are just a bit more ticklish than others.”
“So it’s like a tickle?” she asks. “I thought it was supposed to be more…” her words trail off.
Another moment of silence passes. However, a question barrels into the forefront of your mind, nearly causing you to bust out laughing. Your shoulders do shake a little, which Octavia picks up on.
“Something funny?” she asks.
Calming yourself, you take a breath. “Not really, it’s just that… well…” You prepare yourself, going over the question in your head, trying to find the best way to put it.
“Just that what?” she asks.
“Are you trying to... ruffle my feathers?”
Octavia’s hoof immediately leaves your wing and wraps around your back as if it was never there. Her jaw and shoulders lock and she intakes a big breath. Her entire frame goes rigid for a moment. The embarrassment is quick to spread within her.
“That’s… not was I was trying to do at all,” she states plainly.
“I know, I know,” you reassure her, giving her a little pat on the back. “Just teasing a bit.”
A quick snort is her response. She just sits there again, not moving. A thought occurs to you.
“I’m glad you like my wings, though. Never really thought of them as something you’d be attracted to,” you say.
This gets a quick hum from her, as if she’s debating her response.
“Well, I mean something that ponies would be attracted to, not just you,” you clarify. “Although, they are the defining pegasus feature, so I guess it makes sense.”
“Yeah…” she mumbles.
You notice the slightly deflated tone in her voice. Her shoulders a bit and her chin rests a little heavier on your shoulder. You feel her cheek against you slightly puffed out with air.
“Is something wrong?” you ask.
“Not really,” she answers.
You’re not convinced. “Are you sure?”
She’s silent for a moment. Eventually, she pulls away from you enough for you to see her face. Her hooves come up from your back and rest on your shoulders.
“I want to ask you something. And I want you to answer me honestly,” Octavia says, her eyes locked onto yours. “I know this all happened in a very unorthodox way. You and me.”
You nod to show that you understand.
“And today, I’ve just been dragging us here and there. Making all the calls and decisions, for the most part.”
A little guilt builds in your chest at that statement. It’s true, today was basically a free ride for you graciously provided by Octavia. “I can pay you back,” you say.
“I don’t want to be paid back,” she says.
“Then what can I do?” you ask.
“Tell me. After today, how should we handle… us?”
You’re a bit thrown by the question. “What do you mean?”
“I mean when we get back to Canterlot, what do we do? How do we keep this up?” she asks.
You try to think of an answer. You’re still not a hundred percent sure what you’re being asked. “You mean, like, taking it slow or-”
“That and more,” she cuts you off. “Take our lives in Canterlot. Your job, my job, my bandmates. How do we add us as a couple? What do we do?”
“I… I don’t know…” you stammer.
“Please,” she pleads, her grip on your shoulders tightening. “This entire trip, everything I’ve paid for, you will make it up right here and now if you can answer this one question. What. Do. We. Do?”
You lick your lips and think. The question rings in your mind. What can you and Octavia do around your current livings? Out of panic your mind goes into work mode and starts a checklist, as if you were going through the motions at a dinner party.
“We go back to Canterlot. Then we look at our schedules,” you begin. “Then we look at when we’re both free and see if we can schedule something. Perhaps dinner. Maybe just a visit and drinks. Or visiting one of those establishments I said I’d take you to. Whatever’s appropriate.”
Octavia just stares at you.
“And as for us as a couple…” you stir your thoughts some more, thinking of what couples do. “We’ll hug. And we’ll kiss. Sometimes both.”
You feel her grip on your shoulders begin to loosen.
“Perhaps we shall schedule visits specifically for hugging and/or kissing, though it may happen sporadically as well.” You feel your cheeks redden. “And as for your bandmates… well, for the most part they don’t matter. If they try to do anything, I’m sure that arrangements can be made for consolation.”
“Emergency hug-kiss visit?”
“If need be.”
Her smile returns as her shoulders shake a little. She’s laughing, even if she’s keeping it in, so that’s a sign you’re saying the right things.
“So we’ll just see what we can do and go from there,” you conclude.
“That’s it? So simple?” she asks.
You shrug. “Basically. Unless we want to make it more complicated.”
Her shoulders begin to shake again, but this time her snickers escape her lips. She quickly regains her composure and straightens herself up. “I guess I can’t ask for a better answer,” she says “Nice, easy, and basic. I like it.”
Relief washes over you as you hear that you didn’t just let Octavia down in the one thing she’s asked of you all trip. “So shall we discuss our schedules and figure out our first meeting in Canterlot?” you ask.
She shakes her head. “Not now. I think I’m just going to get ready for bed. Care to join me?”
“A bit early, isn’t it?”
“It’s been a rather exciting day. I’m probably going to lay awake in bed for a while, all things considered,” she says before holding a hoof up to her mouth to yawn.
“Can’t argue with that,” you say before her infectious yawn causes you to turn your head and breathe out as well.
She moves completely away from you before walking towards the closet. Opening the door, she rummages around her luggage before pulling out a small bag and heading for the bathroom. She closes the door behind her as you hear the water from the sink begin to run. You decide to look out the window, observing the glow of the light sources outside. Some flicker, causing strange effects with the other lights. There are some different colors, such as yellows and pinks and blues.
Such a strange city. You had heard of the concept of a city that never sleeps, but that was usually for much flashier and advertised cities like Las Pegasus. This place didn’t seem to have any sort of razzle dazzle like that. Instead, this place just seems busy. No big shows, no fancy productions, just ponies going to and from where they need to be. You can’t help but respect that.
While alone in your thoughts, you hear the toilet flush. A couple moments later, Octavia walks back out, a bit of her face wet and her bowtie untied.
“I doubt you have certain toiletries with you at the moment, so feel free to use whatever you need in there,” she says.
“Are you sure?” you ask.
“Yes. We’ve had our lips locked together today so I don’t think sharing a toothbrush will do too much more,” she says.
“Fair enough,” you say as you walk into the bathroom yourself.
The white tile floor, tub, and everything else makes the light in here more harsh than the light in the other room. You blink a couple times and then squint a little until your eyes can adjust.
The bag you saw her bring in lays open on the counter and what you assume is Octavia’s toothbrush sits next to the sink along with a roll of dental floss. It looks so clean and fresh, the bristles so pristine, you could be forgiven for thinking it was brand new. Beside it lay the toothpaste, a special baking soda blend specifically for whitening. You don’t recognize the brand name, but if it’s good enough for Octavia then you won’t question it.
You take the toothbrush as if it were made of glass, carefully applying just a tiny bit of her toothpaste on it. Although it may be something as simple as a toothbrush, you still don’t want to do anything that could mess it up in any way. Turning on the sink, you wet the end of the toothbrush a little before baring your teeth in the mirror and prepare to brush as gently as possibly. Pushing the bristles past your lips, you slowly brush back and forth.
OH DEAR CELESTIA, THAT FOUL TASTE.
You pull the toothbrush away from your mouth as you feel yourself about to gag. There was no minty flavor you’ve come to expect, simply an overpowering presence of flour and salt, all in a cold, goopy texture.
Spitting a couple times into the sink, you wonder how Octavia could possibly stand to brush with this stuff. Looking to the toothbrush again, you notice it still has a servicable amount of toothpaste for brushing. The thought of trying again give you a little shiver in the back of your throat, but considering you don’t remember brushing since getting here, you prepare to weather the storm upon your taste buds.
You don’t even give yourself time to think, you just put the brush into your mouth and move it all around. It seems to lather, the building foam in your mouth not making matters any more pleasant. You continue as carefully as possible, though, it’s still Octavia’s. You’re caught between two extremes urges, one of trying to preserve the toothbrush and the other of brushing as fast as possible to get the awful taste out of your mouth. You try to find a suitable balance, and by balance you mean save the toothbrush and tell your tongue to shut up.
After thirty seconds of the most agonizing self dental care you’ve ever inflicted upon yourself, you spit all the horrid substance from your mouth and into the sink, forever washed back to the dark depths of the planet from whence it came. Running the toothbrush under the stream of water to clear its bristles, you then wash a hoof and use it to pour some water into your mouth to rinse out the last of the offensive taste. Two scoops and spits makes it bearable.
But as you look at yourself in the mirror, you notice it. Smiling wide, you see that the toothpaste, while terrible tasting, does its job extremely well. Light shines off your near pearly whites and for a moment you consider committing the brand name to memory.
You shake the water off the toothbrush, set it down, and look to the floss. While she was nice enough to let you use her things, the idea of taking a piece still makes you hesitate. Until you read the label: Mint flavor.
Aha, so the mythical mint flavor of pre-bedtime bathroom preparations is contained in the floss, is it? That’s enough to convince you that it’s fine for a small length. Cutting it off on the thankfully provided cutter, you wrap the two ends around the tips of your wings and carefully guide them to maneuver the string between your teeth. The mint flavor hits your tongue and it quickly clears out the last remaining presence of the toothpaste. Mmm, spearmint. Flossing up into the gums, you remember that you probably don’t floss as often as you should, but hey, you do it often enough to make it not a problem for your wings to do the job.
Poor earth ponies, having to wrap it around their entire hoof, you think. Floss companies probably make the most money off of them. Perhaps you could help save Octavia some money in the future by helping-
Before that thought completes itself, you snicker. You pop the string out of your mouth and into the small trashcan in the corner, take one more hoofful of water to rinse, and look at yourself in the mirror. A couple splashes of water on your face, you turn off the sink and dry off with a hooftowel to the side.
You notice something on the towel. Small specks of red.
Your mind goes back to this morning, when you were in here with Octavia. The scratch on her neck and how you were able to help her. How you sat together on the floor for a while. Then, the two of you had breakfast together. You went out into the city together. Had dinner. Made special promises. And all after you woke up hungover, confessed your feelings, and snuggled back up to each other to sleep off your headaches.
Your eyes wander to the mirror again. The pony who stared back is the one who shared all those moments with her. Who was going to take her to so many places in Canterlot, show her so many things.
Feelings you had shut out previously return. The dread, the worry, the fear of going back to Canterlot and what it means. However, it comes back as bubbling excitement. If you and Octavia could handle what this city threw at you, you could handle anything.
You place the hooftowel back down. Turning off the sink, you quickly make use of the other facilities and wash your hooves one last time. Then you stand there for a moment, caught in a stare at nothing. Exciting as it is, it’s still a lot to take in. But as you told Octavia, you’ll plan ahead and take it as it comes. For now, she’s waiting for you on the other side of the door to go to sleep with.
Another yawn escapes you as you turn off the light and stand in the darkness for another moment before opening the door. Taking a couple steps out, you see Octavia staring out the window, just as you had waiting for her. Her bowtie now sits on the nightstand beside the bed.
She turns to you with a smile. “This city is rather amazing isn’t it?” she asks.
“Yeah,” you reply, joining her at the window. “We may have to come back one day.”
“I would like that.” She takes one last look outside before taking a hoof and closing the curtain. The room is now completely dark save for what light slips past. “I’m afraid tomorrow is an important day with the performance,” she says.
“I understand.”
She trots over and sits up on the bed. “Care to join me?” she asks.
“Of course.”
Both question and answer, spoken as if nothing was wrong. You walk over and lift yourself onto the bed as well. Crawling over the mattress, you both reach the end of the bed. She waits for you to lay down first. Your head meets the pillow and you turn so you lay on your back.
She lays beside you, her head coming up to rest on your chest. One of her hooves grip on your shoulder as the other lays above your stomach, causing just a little twitch of reaction from you before settling.
You go to wrap a hoof around her back, prompting her to lift herself up a little bit. Then an idea strikes you. While she’s holding herself up, you unfurl your wing and stretch it out underneath her. Curling it around, you surround Octavia with the warmth and softness that she had said earlier that she appreciated.
You hear a surprised gasp as her fur touches your feathers and pull her close. She doesn’t resist at all, snuggling into your wing as she lays herself down carefully. It’s obvious she’s unsure how much weight your wing can take, but she settles herself in with no problems or complaints from you. You feel her lips press against your cheek before she sets her head back down on your chest, her slow breathing tickling your chest fur.
At this moment, everything is perfect.
Closing your eyes, you just lay there, enjoying everything around you. Sleep is coming eventually, so you don’t try to fight it. Besides, you’ll have this opportunity again at some point. Perhaps even in this city again. Like you both said, it’d be nice to come back.
For as much as you have to show Octavia in Canterlot, there’s still so much of this place left unexplored. So many shops, parks, and restaurants. Maybe on a day where Octavia doesn’t have to perform the day after, so you can really see the city at night. Not just pass through it, but be a part of it.
The city at night… you could only imagine.
~~~~~~
Bright clashing lights shine upon your closed eyelids, stirring you from your rest. You notice that the warm body that used to be beside you is now missing. Opening your eyes confirms this, the blanket tossed aside from where once lay the beautiful musician you’ve traveled with.
Curiosity to where she has gone is short lived, for when your eyes drift to the source of the lights that awoke you, you see the silhouette of the wonderful mare herself. She stares out the window with wonder, watching all the activity under the illumination of the night in a city that never sleeps.
Carefully, you lean yourself up and out of bed. Your tired body protests in the form of aching joints, sore limbs, and a dizzy head, but you persist until you’re on your hooves. Trotting over to her, you sit beside her as she seems too interested in what’s outside to notice you have joined her.
You watch her watch the night, ponies still walking the sidewalk as much as they did during the day. The wheels of carts clack against the ground, bussing passengers where they need to go. All under the lights of signs and lamp posts, under bright yellows, reds, blues, and more colors that dance through the streets in a marvelous and chaotic waltz with everypony outside.
All of this is reflected in her purple eyes.
She turns to you. Her smile paints the picture of her desire to join them quite clearly. She reaches a hoof out to you.
There is wary a moment’s hesitation before you take her hoof. The second you do, she stands up and guides you through the room, stopping only to grab her bowtie. She fastens it around her neck with the speed and experience that’s grown from all the years of wearing it. She grabs the room key and tucks it safely underneath the collar.
After the door opens, you find yourself outside the hotel in a blur. You remember locking the door and walking down the hallway. Or rather, you know that these activities must have occurred.
Before you can think too much about it, you look over to see her staring up into the lights above. The smile of almost childlike wonder that adorns her face is a look so precious that it forces back your earlier confusion.
She leads you down the sidewalk, among the other ponies all seeming to travel around each other in a complicated and chaotic waltz. Steps around one pony and then another, swerving back and forth just so to not bump into any other passerby. As you move through the crowd, you accidently bump into a few ponies before starting to get the rhythm. A step to the side, a simple twist around, a courteous nod to each and every pony that takes part with you this dance of the big city, however brief your time was.
Your main partner is still ahead of you, guiding you across the concrete dance floor. Looking around, taking in your surroundings, the lights and sounds, it all begins to overwhelm you. You open your mouth to talk, but nothing comes out. Nothing over the noise around you.
It does get her attention. She turns back and smiles again. You approach a group of stationary ponies on a street corner, whose presence gives the two of you the excuse to stop for a moment, to take a breath within the sporadic environment.
She laughs. You are not looking at her, nor can you hear her, but you can feel it. The way her hoof is shaking in yours and how it squeezes you tighter. Her joy spreads as you see other ponies around smile, like yourself. You feel your wings unfurl and yourself becoming lighter than air. By instinct, your wings are flapping and it’s almost as if you could rise above the crowd up into the sky based on her positive energy alone.
But that wouldn’t do. Right now, the two of you are right where you want to be, prowling the streets as animals in a jungle of lights. She looks up to you flying just above her, and you laugh as well. You can’t help it, what you’re feeling makes you want to soar. Thankfully, she keeps you grounded in this wonderful place.
As the crowd moves, so does she, tugging you along like a balloon. Now that you can see above the ponies, you get a good look at everything. You see how the city works. How it functions. How it breathes.
She pulls you along and you both laugh. You both run. Feelings you don’t understand in a place you’ve never been, but you can’t get enough.
So you continue down the street, immersing yourselves further into the wonderful city.
~~~~~~
Slowly, your eyes begin to open. There is a slight pressure in your head as you breathe out a long yawn. Nowhere near as bad as the pounding from the last time you woke up, but something that just shows that you woke from one of the best night’s sleep you’ve ever gotten.
And what happened… You’re unsure as to whether or not that series of events was a dream, a flashback, or something else, but it was so vivid and you’ll never forget it.
You begin to notice something dragging around your chest. Looking down reveals it to be a gray hoof. Travelling up the attached foreleg reveals its owner, Octavia, laying beside you. She looks up to you and smiles. She must have woken up before you, but chose to lay with you until you woke up.
You consider asking her about your little run through the city, but decide against it. It felt so real and so amazing that you don’t want to take the chance of having it be disproven. Instead, you reach over with your hoof and wing, wrapping her up in a warm embrace.
She settles nicely within your wing, snuggling up to you and closing her eyes, ready to return to sleep for just a few moments more. Choosing to join her, your own eyelids close as you let the outside world slowly fade away yet again…
A sharp knocking on the door disturbs your rest. You turn your head slightly towards the source of the noise, still not bothering to open your eyes again.
“Octavia, I know you’re in there!”
However, the voice makes your eyes shoot open. You also see Octavia turn to look as well, panic across her face. She bites her lip nervously as she looks at you with pleading eyes. With a gulp, you slide your way out of the sheets and trot as quickly and quietly as you can to the door where the knocking persists.
As carefully as you can, you look in through the peep hole. You know the voice all too well, but seeing out into the hall confirms it.
“Philharmonica, we’ve had enough of this tomfoolery!” yells the voice of Harpo. You also see Beauty Brass next to her. “Open the door this instant!” he commands.
Turning away slowly, you trot back to the bed where Octavia is sitting up, her mane lightly ruffled, and worry in her features.
“Harpo?” she whispers with dread.
“Harpo,” you confirm.
She breathes out a little. “Well, he’ll get frustrated and give up eventually. He’s not so bad as long as Beauty Brass isn’t with him.”
“What’s... so bad about Beauty Brass?” you ask.
“OCTAVIAAAA.”
A very low, yet feminine voice plows through the room, shaking the windows and you down to your bones. With tensed muscles you bear the vocal onslaught as Octavia clasps her hooves over her ears. Not even a moment from the sonic assault does another round of knocking come forth.
As you wonder how much worse this could possibly get, the phone starts to ring. With what’s outside the door, you don’t even think when you pick up the receiver.
“Hello?” you ask.
“You ingrateful worm, where is-!?”
Before another word can come out, you slam down the receiver.
“Frederic,” you call over your shoulder over another round of knocking. Sure enough, almost as soon as you put the phone down, it starts to ring again. He must be calling from inside the hotel in another room which is why the front desk isn’t rejecting them.
Octavia clutches the blanket tight to her chest as she stares off into space, looking like she’s about to be ill.
“OCTAVIAAAA.”
Grit teeth rattle in your head as Octavia curls up into a ball under the blanket. Two at the door and one on the phone, not a single one of which seem likely to let up anytime soon.
You take a breath and try to focus through all the noise. There’s no way you could let them get to Octavia, not at the moment. You could answer the door or phone and just give them a piece of your mind, but… you suddenly feel a chill down your spine.
How does she deal with these ponies on a daily basis? The constant yelling demands and insults, and there’s no way you could just shut them out like she did with Frederic yesterday. Nothing you can do, nopony to come to-
Wait. That’s it!
Inspiration striking, you pick up the phone again. However, you press the hook before Frederic can get a word in. Releasing it and putting the receiver to your ear, you hear a dial tone over Harpo’s hoof on the door. The card thankfully still next to the phone, you dial the front desk. Octavia looks at you confused, so you give her a nod to show you know what you’re doing.
“Hello, front desk. How may I help you?” asks another mare on the other end of the line.
“Hi, I have a complaint about some ponies outside of room 213 causing a noise disturbance,” you say.
“A noise disturbance?” she asks, concern in her voice. “How bad is it?”
“OCTAVIAAAA.”
You and Octavia flinch as you hear and feel the rumbling of the room. You put the receiver back up to your ear as the knocking returns.
“That bad.”
“My word…” she gasps. “We felt that in the lobby! I thought they were just doing construction somewhere. We’ll send somepony up there right away!”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. Have a good day!”
“You too. Bye,” you say and place the phone back down on the receiver. However, as soon as you take your hoof away, it begins to ring again. You quickly pick it up, hang it back up, and then pick the receiver up off the hook and place it beside the phone, a droning dial tone being the only noise. That should stop any incoming calls for sure.
Walking back to Octavia who is still curled up, you join her on the bed and put a hoof on her back.
“It’ll be okay,” you whisper. “Security is on its way right now.”
She doesn’t say anything, just a small, timid nod.
Wrapping your hooves around her, you lay down with her as you wait through the persistent knocking, each knock piercing your ears as if he’s tapping directly against your skull. You hope as hard as you can that the hotel staff gets there soon to shoo Harpo and Beauty Brass away.
“OCTAVIAAAA.”
By instinct to the booming noise, you squeeze Octavia a little closer. Fearing for her discomfort, you loosen your grasp and mumble out an apology. She shifts around a little, a small whine escapes her throat as her hoof reaches up to yours. As she pushes herself back into your forelegs, you realize what she wants.
Tightening your hooves around her again, you hold her as firmly as you think you can without hurting her. She lets out a satisfied sigh as she seems to relax into you. The warmth of her body seemingly more intense in your embrace. You feel not only her soft fur, but her supple form underneath easily giving in your grip.
Harpo’s persistent knocking suddenly stops. As you know what’s about to happen, you and Octavia brace yourself for the inevitable yell.
“OCTAVI-”
“STOP! Stop stop stop!”
You hear another pony in the hall yelling, thankfully cutting off Beauty’s yell. They must be who the front desk sent up. Their voices drop in volume so you can no longer make out what they’re saying exactly. From what you can hear of it, Harpo is trying to argue his Celestia-given right to annoy the piss out of you through the door.
The outside bickering lasts only a minute or so, all the while you hold Octavia closely. No movement other than her breathing. Finally, you hear two ponies stomp off one direction while the other calmly trots the other. Feeling Octavia breathe in deeply, she lets out a huge sigh.
“Thank you,” she whispers. “Thank you so much.”
She begins to lift herself up so you loosen your hold on her. All she does is turn herself to face you before laying back down. Her purple eyes meet yours and you can now see her smiling. She lets out a small giggle as she brings a hoof up to your cheek.
“My hero…”
You’re unsure how heroic calling security is, but you still feel pride welling up inside of you. The fact that you managed to keep Octavia’s bandmates away for just another moment longer must mean something. But then again, it’s just that. Another moment, and then she’ll eventually have to face them.
“What time did we have to check out by?” you ask, dread settling in your chest.
Octavia’s smile vanishes. “Ten o'clock,” she replies. “What time is it now?”
Looking around, you crane your neck a bit to see the clock on the wall. You bite your lip as your shoulders fall.
“9:48,” you say. How you slept in like this, you’ll never know. You can hear the second hand tick away on the clock, making your recent victory seem more and more hollow.
She doesn’t say anything. Instead, she just wraps her hooves around you back and squeezes you tightly, like you had to comfort her. Burying her muzzle into the crook of your neck, the grip of her strong hooves makes it obvious that she doesn’t want to let go.
Putting your strength back into your own hold around her, you nuzzle the top of her head as the two of you lay together in a tight embrace. You try to recall the feelings from last night, the excitement when you remember the wonderful day with her you had. It works, for the most part, releasing a bit of the anxiety from the ticking clock. While you may not have much time left, you can’t think of a better way to spend it than this.
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yay update
Toothpaste, a necessary evil.
.........................................
…Okay, it's times like this that make me think there must be some higher power controlling our lives. Just a few hours ago—A FEW HOURS—I was looking at the favorites I keep featured on my userpage and found myself trying to remember when this last updated. I told myself it didn't matter and that it would update when it does and when that day comes I'll… well I didn't quite know what I'd do, but one thing I was sure of: I would be extremely happy. So it came as no surprise when I saw this in my feed and subconsciously stopped breathing. I'm very serious there, I actually stopped breathing when this updated. Thankfully, I noticed my lack of the very bodily function that allows me to live and corrected it. Now I can read this brilliant story and patiently await the next update.
YAY! New chapter!
I MUST KNOW ABOUT THIS.
that was cute at the end
3136972
Wait so you cannot gurentee the next update soon or not gurentee it at all? Like it will never happen? And also loved the chapter. The run ing through the city at night thing was really good.
3137059
Can't guarantee it soon.
Will guarantee it happening eventually. This story will see its conclusion.
3137053
Oh good lord I can't stop laughing now
"There are very few things that frighten Octavia Philharmonica. After having to deal with a band of insane egotistical maniacs, everything else in life just seems to slide off.
Except for her toothpaste.
Every morning, she would get up and go to the bathroom. She'd wash her face, and then she would stare at the mirror in silent tribulation over the self-inflicted torture she was about to endure for the sake of having pearly white teeth. Slowly, a hoof reached for the dreaded tube of toxic teeth-whitener. As her delicate hoof bumped up against the cool plastic, a shiver ran up her spine, as though the echoes of a thousand screams were assaulting her ears. The hoof lunged forward slightly, as if throwing itself upon a blade to end its misery, and snatched the forsaken tube. Bringing the detestable object in front of her eyes, her other hoof slowly began to unscrew the cap. As the cap was removed, a deafening silence was released into the bathroom.
No stench betrayed the toothpaste's sinister motives. There were no telltale signs of the horrors locked away in that chemical mixture sealed from the world by nothing more than a cap on a plastic tube. If they loaded this stuff into gas canisters, it could probably be used for chemical warfare. This, however, did nothing to stop Octavia from slowly squeezing the tube, letting the tiniest little hump of paste arch over the edge of its container. With a trembling hoof, she grabbed her toothbrush from the sink, and delicately, ever so carefully, deposited the tiniest dab of paste on the smooth, white bristles of her tooth-cleaning apparatus. Setting both items down, she took a deep breath, and put the cap back on the toothpaste, desperate for anything to delay the inevitable.
Octavia grasped her bristled tooth cleaner, and slowly lifted it up. Looking at herself in the mirror, she saw the toothbrush hovering in front of her, covered in a sickly grey goo. She knew what it meant. She knew what she was doing to herself. She knew she couldn't stop. She had to do this. It was for the best. It was only toothpaste, right?
With a cringe, she opened her mouth and shoved the toothbrush inside. She resisted the sudden urge to vomit as the full, unbridled bad taste began its primary offensive strike against her tastebuds. It was like having a thousand marines shooting your tongue, except every bullet was a tinge of bad taste terrible enough to make you gag uncontrollably. She didn't want to know what would happen if she accidentally swallowed some. She bravely defended the kingdom of her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut and begging her brain to please just temporarily stop processing the nerve endings on her tongue as she brushed with a ferocity borne of desperation.
In that moment, everything was reduced to a single point, a single desire - get this motherbucking terrible taste out of my bucking mouth oh dear celestia why. It may have also involved a lot of internal screaming and mental scarring.
Yet, as Octavia finally released her mouth from the endless torture and spat out the horrendous mixture of hatred and pain, she knew it was worth it. As she washed her mouth out with water to drain every last trace of that horrid paste that was probably made out of the tears of orphans left in abusive foster homes, she knew that her daily torture was a regrettable, but necessary evil.
After all, how else would she make sure her teeth stated nice and pearly white?"
Oh my god what have I done.
SO much d'awwww. This chapter was adorably beautiful. Thanks for the update!
I really don't like her bandmates. I'd honestly quit. No reason she should have to put up with that shit.
In my household, we just used straight baking soda first, then regular toothpaste. Made the first part a bit more bearable (not much, but still). I will say one thing though, makes your teeth sparkle like a Glampire on the surface of the Sun.
I love this story so much. Probably my favorite non-OctaScratch Octavia story ever.
Please continue.
Whelp, you just earned yourself a like and a favorite!
this is a really cute story!
cant wait for the next one 
That bathroom scene... Amusing.
Nice work on it.
~Skeeter The Lurker
You earned my like and follow. Keep up the Awesom me work
Beautiful work, laughs, D'awwwss and various other expressions of feels were had. Can't wait for the next
Los Pegasus should be Las Pegasus.
It updated!
Maybe it's just me, but I think the quality of any writing suffers when it is forced to a schedule. Your fans will wait for you, so there's no need to force yourself to write something, especially if it's inconvenient for you. You have a life outside of this after all. Anyway, good work as usual Whirring. I always take immense pleasure in reading your writing. Kudos to Armada, Timebomb0, Slashe, and Kody910 as well for helping you out.
He lives! Great chapter, once again.
3137073 ok had me worried for a sec
3137053 I can't believe I missed that. Now we know, one does not simply dis Kody's toothpaste.
My goodness, this man knows how to write. o.O I've just had an honest lesson in description, reading over this piece--which was wonderful in entirety, by-the-way.
...But enough butter. I found the character depth unusually detailed. I believe it adds a certain form of realism to the story. "I" also had very believable reactions. And Beauty Brass has the lungs of a whale.
I honestly can't wait until the main character gives the other band members the what-for, if they're going to treat Octavia like that.
P.S.: Just checking, but Beauty plays a Sousaphone, right?
3139233 My thoughts exactly.
3137053>>3137165
Priceless
I've actually been waiting to read this since well into last year to see how you update. I finally gave in and read the last three chapters, and I sincerely hope that you intend to continue the story. it's been incredible so far, even after all of this time, I love reading it. Thanks again for writing it. As always, I'm looking forward to the continue of this, or other stories that you have written; or will write.
It's been a while.
It's weird finding that sense of familiarity intact despite how long it's been since my last excursion into the hotel room.
3137053
What the buck? I must say that is a very strange reason to be fighting with your proofreader....
Either way I'm enjoying the story so far and I do hope you keep at it.
3137053
the term 'I'll kill you for a klondike bar' is almost taken to a literal sense with us 
Me and my friends fight over the most ridiculous of things
(no stupid people were harmed with the encounter) IT WAS MINE TO BEGIN WITH!
... low blow to the gut was uncalled for.
The advertisement was for toothpaste.
I kid you not.
Colgate Optic White Toothpaste.
I took a screen cap.
I almost died laughing.
This is the greatest thing ever.
My life is complete.
WOO YOU ALIVE WHIRRING!
Also haven't seen you on steam in while...
Wow I just discovered this story now, and holy fuck this is amazing.
I just wish you could upload on a more regular basis.
3136575 it's more that it's unflavored swill... how can anyone brush their TEETH with that?
Wait.... That means I have to wait till march to finally finish this story.
Well, at any rate, nice chapter WG! It's a shame I don't get to forcefully inject all of my pent up rage and frustration caused by your slow writing strait into your gut by way of my fist, but hay, my favorite story has been updated, so I'm not complaining.
Much.
Amazing chapter, it would be very interesting read how Octavia face her bandmates.
What an excellent way to get rid of pesky ponies.
This story is sooo sweet! I love it! I'm usually not a fan of Octavia but she's going up my list thanks to you ^^
This story is part of my top 3 all time favorite stories. With each chapter it gets better. You have not ceased to amaze me with your writing, especially with the fact it's 2nd person, which makes it even better.
Take all long as you wish with writing these chapters, as it seems authors (usually) end up with higher quality chapters.
Keep at it.
I'm pretty sure that there's a fic out there dealing with how Octavia hates her toothpaste...