Chapter 8: They're Coming
Sitting on the edge of the bed, you twiddle your hooves as you listen to Octavia shower in the other room. Seeing 11:17 on the clock, you have definitely overstayed your welcome in the room, but it was better to risk angry hotel staff than face angry bandmates. Then again, you’d have to face those bandmates eventually.
You had voiced your worry about staying late to Octavia. She simply said not to worry about it.
Just fidgeting on the bed starts to make you feel antsy. Deciding to get up, you do a check over on the room to make sure you leave it in the best state possible to make up for your elongated stay. You start by folding up the blanket on the bed in a neat manner. Taking the bottle of whiskey still left from two nights ago, you set it by the closet door so Octavia can pack it up. Going over to the desk, you begin straightening the various objects on it.
Then you notice the phone. It’s still off the hook. A little shiver of terror travels down your spine. Do you dare?
You think about this. What are the odds that they’ve given up by now? Considering you’ve not heard anything in the past hour, that’s a good sign. And you want to make sure the room is as nice as it can be.
Before you can think about it anymore, you pick up the receiver. No noise is coming from it. No buzzing or beeping usually associated with leaving it out. You hang the phone back up and wait. Tension surrounds the next few seconds as you wait.
…
Well, it seems that-
BRI-I-I-ING!
The noise makes you feel as if your heart stopped. You can’t believe the sheer persistence of these ponies.
Well, you’ll have to face them sometime. With a little hesitance, you reach over and pick up the receiver again and put it to your ear, bracing yourself for another round of yelling.
“...Hello?”
“Hello,” comes a strangely calm voice from the other side. A voice you heard earlier today. “Is Octavia there?”
“I’m afraid she’s… busy at the moment, Harpo,” you reply.
“Doing what?”
“Showering.”
“I see.” His voice, though even, seems to contain something darker beneath the surface. “Well, in that case I would like to inquire about your activities the previous day, if I may.”
“What?” you ask, a bit thrown by the question.
“I want to know what you did yesterday,” he says, as if explaining it to a rather slow pony.
Your eyebrows drop in annoyance, but you decide to answer. “We didn’t do too much. We woke up, got some complimentary breakfast downstairs.”
“That breakfast isn’t complimentary” Harpo interrupts.
“What?”
“They add it to bill and you pay for it when you leave.”
Your heart sinks now knowing there’s one more thing Octavia will have to pay for you. You try to ignore the feelings of guilt and decide to continue.
“Well, after that, we came back to the room for a bit before heading out again,” you say.
“And where did you go?”
“We didn’t have a plan. Just walked around and she saw an art gallery she wanted to visit.”
He lets out a half-hearted “Mm-hmm” in response.
“Got some coffee and then came back to the room for dinner. Afterwards, she practiced until it was time to sleep.”
“Sounds like quite the exciting day,” he says.
“It was pretty nice,” you reply.
You hear him breathe out as he sounds like he shuffles something around.
“So you’ve had your fun,” Harpo remarks. “But I’m afraid it’s time to for everything to go back to the way it was before this whole mess.”
Over my dead flank, you almost think to yourself. However, instead of attempting to challenge one of three ponies who you will be likely seeing on a regular basis, you decide to just go with the path of least resistance for the moment.
“Why’s that?” you ask, putting on as innocent a tone as possible.
“Because we do not have time for such shenanigans,” he says. “Tell me, where in a true Canterlot pony’s life do you think they have room for someone who gets them drunk, abducts them to a strange city, and proceeds to make them blow off the entire day on whims of whatever catches their fancy?”
“Uh…” you say, unsure if he has the roles correct in his described scenario. “But… Octavia did all that, not me.”
“I know.”
Okay, now you’re really confused. “I don’t understand.”
“Let me first say that I do not quite understand what Octavia’s obsession is with you,” he begins. “But what I mean is that this relationship you’re pursuing would only end up hurting you, Octavia, and everypony else involved. Now before you interrupt…” he says, just as you're about to speak out. “Allow me to explain. How is your schedule normally, catering for the numerous events in the busiest waiting service in the city?”
He has a point. Considering your presence is often needed from the beginning of setup all the way to the last of the decorations getting taken down, your work schedule would be difficult to keep with any other plans.
“I can find time,” you say.
“Time for what?”
“Taking her out. Dinner, dancing, everything she’s never gotten to before.”
“Never gotten to before?” Harpo says with a chuckle on the other side of the line. “Do you really believe that? That such a highly regarded mare would not have had other suitors with the opportunity to see everything Canterlot has to offer? That she’s not grown bored of it already?”
“Y-Yes. I do believe her,” you say. “Even then, she told me she wants to, so I will.”
“Tell me something else,” Harpo says. “How did it come to be that you and Octavia left for the city on the wrong day?”
“She said it was a scheduling error. That she forgot the trip was pushed back because of…” You search your brain trying to remember the excuse. “Oh, because Beauty was expecting a part for her horn to arrive.”
“She forgot?” he says, laughter building up in his voice. “And would you believe that her forgetting that Beauty was going to receive an important part to her instrument, one required for her to play, is what lead to you two ending up where you are now?”
Your chest feels like it’s tightening up as you listen. “But…”
“She’s lying to you,” he interrupts. “She’s lied about everything so far. The reason she left, about her future plans with you, and probably even more.” Harpo voice changes to become a little softer as you try to take in the information. “Look, it’s not your fault. We’ve been concerned about her. I cannot say I know what exactly she was or is planning, but what I do know is that she’s been acting self-destructive before now. We just don’t want her to do anything she may regret.”
Your eyes fall down to the floor as you sit back on your haunches. Part of you says that he’s obviously trying to scare you, but something makes you keep listening, just in case there’s some piece of information you can gleam from his rattlings.
“Please do not take too much offense to this statement, but… a professional musician having a romantic interest with a waiter? Imagine the headlines about it. Imagine what it would do to her reputation.”
A frown spreads across your face. You hadn’t thought about that, honestly. Are you in such a low class that being seen with you would be disgraceful?
He clears his throat before continuing. “So please, we are just looking out for what’s best for everypony here. Let me make you an offer…”
Your ears perk up. “What kind of offer?”
“As you know, there’s a bit of hostility in the air at the moment. I’m sure what happened about an hour ago is still fresh in your mind?”
“Of course.”
“Like I said, this is not your fault, but you are the root of the problem. If you want to avoid this for, not just yourself, but to spare everypony such unpleasantries, here’s what I need you to do.”
You hear him shift around on the other side of the line again.
“Leave. Today.”
“What?”
“Go back to Canterlot. Do not stay for the dinner party, do not stay for Octavia, just go back to Canterlot on the next train. Or else we may have more issues before this all gets resolved.”
“I’m sorry, is this an offer or a threat?” you ask.
“It is what it is.”
“...I’ll think about it.”
“The last train before we are due to perform leaves at two o’clock. There is also one leaving at noon, if you’d prefer. Come by room 314, I can give you money for the train ticket back.”
“I have wings.”
“Noted. I just thought you’d prefer a bit of comfort for the return trip.”
“I guess.”
“So, do we have a deal?” he asks. “We can avoid a whole lot of unnecessary mess.”
You hear hoofsteps behind you. Turning around you see Octavia standing there, a towel over her shoulders. Her head is slightly tilted and her lips are pursed in a mix of concern and curiosity as she sees you with the phone. Her wet mane glistens in the sun from the window, a single strand dangling out in front of her face. Her shining purple eyes over the soft gray fur with her perplexed expression is almost reminiscent of a small confused kitten. Despite her worry and the stress of Harpo’s ultimatum, something in the back of your mind finds that right now she may be the most adorable thing you’ve ever seen.
The tightness in your chest begins loosening as you find the strength to confront the problem directly.
“Octavia didn’t pay for me to come here,” you say.
“I beg your pardon?”
“I get free travel to and from Canterlot with my palace staff ID card.”
“Oh, so you can just go on your own, then?”
“I chose to join Octavia on the train from Canterlot.”
“What?... Well, there’s still the matter of the hotel room.”
“She needed my name to sign for a new room and I willingly obliged.”
“Alright, calm down for-”
“And I stayed the night when she needed the company. All of it was my doing, Harpo. Octavia did nothing.”
As much as you know that final bit is just begging for trouble, you have to defend Octavia. For a while, you hear nothing. Almost every part of you is screaming to slam the phone down, but a strange pumping energy through your nerves makes you want to let him give you something else you can throw back in his face.
“So, you are planning to tear us apart,” he finally says.
“No, I’m not,” you say defiantly. “I have no wish to-”
“Wish to or not, that is what you are doing. Do you know what we were like before that night you came up to us?” He doesn’t give you a chance to respond. “We were happy. We played show to show, every few evenings and practiced when we had the chance. No bitterness, no fighting at all. Octavia was calm and collected, the perfect picture of higher class. But then you came along…” he hisses, venom dripping from the last few words.
“I did nothing-”
“I tried to be nice and sugarcoat it for you. All of it has been because of you. Everything, it is all your fault. The first of what we’ll call ‘incidents’ happened after your and Octavia’s chance meeting.”
Your pumping energy is fading fast, but as you try to get a word in, Harpo’s sharp tongue continues its lashing.
“Octavia was the one who started acting out. After every meeting, she became more and more obsessed with you. Unhealthily so. Soon, the slightest damn mention of you was enough to set her off. I know she’s probably talked about us to you behind our backs, but let me tell you right now, nothing could compare to the stunts that mare has pulled.” A haggard sigh comes over the phone. “And to think. We were so close. We were so close to finally getting her to give up on you.”
Those words send a chill straight into your heart.
“She started to see it our way. We were finally hammering in the doubt that could make her see what a mistake pursuing you would be. We were recovering, despite your insistence after every single show we’d play with you there. But we’re not done yet. Not at all. We’ve come too far to let some freak chance ruin our efforts to keep the ensemble together and work past the wedge you’ve driven between us.”
You take a deep breath as you feel your hoof holding the phone begin to shake.
“You’ve done quite enough. When we’re done you will stay out of Octavia’s life, once and for all-”
“Over my dead flank.”
You slam the phone back down onto the hook. Your foreleg keeps it pressed down as if it may leap up again at any moment as you breathe deeply through grit teeth. Boiling blood pumps through icy veins as the words of his threat replay in your mind. A few deep breaths to force yourself to calm down, you turn back to Octavia. She now looks more confused than ever.
“Harpo,” is all you say.
Her eyebrows fall from high in surprise to set low in annoyance. She gives a single nod of understanding before pulling the towel off of her shoulders and turning to toss it on the bed. She walks towards the closet and opens it without a word.
On top of the hatred towards Harpo, a new fear bubbles up that you’ve offended Octavia somehow. You thought she’d be at least curious as to what conversation took place. But then again, she’s known Harpo for several years, so maybe she can piece together what happened from simple assumption.
But still, not a single word about it?
As your adrenaline starts to wear down, you feel the need to sit. His words still buzz around your mind. Where to even start…
“Come on. We’re leaving,” she says, snapping you out of your thoughts.
“Where are we going?” you ask.
“Just grab the bags,” Octavia orders, swinging her cello onto her back. “We can’t stay here. Checkout’s overdue and I don’t want another incident.”
You follow Octavia’s orders, grabbing the room key off the desk, taking her bags, and slinging them around your back. As the cool fabric settles against your fur, Octavia sticks the half bottle of whiskey into one of the bags for you and opens the door. Behind you, the phone starts to ring again.
“Leave it,” Octavia says before you can even open your mouth to ask. “If they’re still in their room, then maybe we can sneak out.”
As she works the locks, you take one last chance to glance around the room to make sure you’re not forgetting anything. You two didn’t pack much or even buy any souvenirs, but better safe than sorry.
“AAAIIEUGH!”
The throat tearing scream immediately whips your head around to the source, which is now running into the nearby bathroom. Before you even have time to register what happened, you follow her in and see her curled up next to the toilet in a spell of dry heaving.
“Octavia!? What happened!?” you say, trotting over and putting your hooves on her shoulders in an attempt to calm her down. She’s shivering uncontrollably and her muscles are tensed beyond reason.
She says nothing, but just keeps her head over the bowl just in case something comes up. Looking back to the door, you see that it’s been slammed shut.
“I’m going to go take a look, okay?” you ask, giving her a little squeeze to try and stop her shaking.
She calms down a little, enough to give a nod which is good enough for you. Getting up, you try to keep an eye on Octavia as you figure what in the world made her suddenly scream and nearly vomit. Slowly opening the door, you squint a bit to obscure your vision to what could be so hideously grotesque to get that sort of reaction.
As you open it, you begin to see red out of your self-obscured vision. Opening your eyes completely confirms it. A red substance smeared up and down the door. Leaning in, you take a quick sniff and note its somewhat salty odor. Poking it carefully with a hoof, you bring it closer.
It’s just ketchup. Everyday ketchup, perhaps mixed with water to get rid of its normal thickness. In fact, smeared around like this, it looks almost just like-...
...oh, those bastards.
“It’s not what you think it is!” you call out to Octavia, entering the bathroom again. “It’s just ketchup. Nothing more.”
She’s stopped shaking, which is a good sign. Right now, she’s just breathing heavily with her shoulder propped against the wall.
“I… figured as much…” she says between breaths. “I just wasn’t… expecting that…”
“Wait here and collect yourself. I’ll clean it up quickly,” you say. She just nods in response, closing her eyes.
You trot out of the bathroom and open the closet. White towels are stacked on a shelf about eye level. Taking the soon-to-be-not-so-white towel on top, you turn to the mess on the door. It might be easier to call somepony up from the front desk about the mess, but that would take too much time for them to get here and to explain why it got there in the first place.
It’s not the worst you’ve ever had to clean up in your time as a waiter. Some of the chefs in the kitchen had concocted worse things that had ended up on even worse surfaces. Until somepony attempts to clean authentic all'arrabiata off the polished marble walls of Fancy Pants’ personal estate, then nopony could claim to have known true dread.
Starting with a corner of the towel, you scoop up the red paste from top to bottom. The normally soft towel feeling a bit harsher on the wooden door with the pressure you apply through your hoof. Using new sections of towel for every swipe, you manage to get it pretty clear in four passes, leaving half the towel clean. To sully the remaining length of the cloth, and to make sure there’s as little ketchup left as possible on the door, you sweep over it with the driest part of the towel.
All in all, it takes about twenty-three seconds total. While not the best in terms of what was expected during the events, you give yourself the benefit of the doubt due to the stress of your new marefriend freaking out in the bathroom next door. Satisfied with your job, you take a couple steps in to toss the towel into the hamper in the bathroom.
“All done,” you announce to Octavia, while washing your hooves in the sink of any stray pressed tomato remnants.
“Okay. We have to hurry,” she says, getting back to her hooves.
The ringing from the phone finally stops. You smirk a little. Maybe those ponies are cooling off a little and letting Octavia have some peace.
“They’re coming,” Octavia says, urgency present in her voice.
“What?” you ask, drying your hooves.
“They’re on their way here!” she says, stepping out the door and waving a hoof for you to come along.
“How do you know?”
“Believe me, they do not give up. If they stop doing one thing, then they try something else. I cannot think of what else they’d do.” She gives a little sigh. “They probably expected their little trick to slow us down for some time.”
You just nod as you follow her into the hallway and she closes the door behind you and locks it up with the spare key you had taken yesterday. She takes off in a light canter down the hall that you have a little difficulty keeping up with due to the weight of the bags. You can understand the hurry, though. Another run-in with Frederic, Harpo, Beauty Brass, or, Celestia help you, is an encounter with uncertain catastrophe.
The worst kind of catastrophe because you can’t prepare for it. It could be anything as simple as a shouting match to crush your soul beneath their inflated egos or one of them immediately leaping for your throat upon first sight.
Reaching the stairs, you begin to hear a rather large amount of chatter. Descending into the lobby, you see that the place is now packed with ponies, from the front desk to the doors. Anxiety begins to build up in your chest as you realize that you’d have to wait for this group to check in before you and Octavia get a chance to check out.
“Any ideas?” you say to Octavia, who shows the same kind of worry in her eyes.
She looks around a little. “Not everypony is in line,” she says. “Let’s just go and see how bad it really is.”
Making it down the last couple of stairs, you both dodge and weave around the crowds. Experienced in such maneuvering from time spent in crowded dining halls, this is easy enough to get through. You have to stop and wait for Octavia to catch up a few times. When you get to the desk, you see one line only has two ponies in front of you waiting to speak with the clerk. Getting in line, you see Octavia shift her cello down beside her.
The first red pony trots off happy as the clerk addresses the dark blue stallion right in front of you. He walks up to the desk and the two of you take his place as next to be serviced.
However, you can’t help but notice Octavia is now just about hiding beside you, her fur lightly pressing against yours.
“Something wrong?” you ask.
“Harpo is at the top of the stairs looking for us- do NOT look up there,” she whispers just when you were about to turn your head. “If you look at him, he’ll easily notice. Act natural.”
The stallion in front of you walks off and you both trot up to the front desk.
“Yes, how can I help you?” asks the yellow furred clerk. She looks a little stressed from what has no doubt been a busy day.
“We’re checking out of room 213,” you say. “Sorry that we’re late-”
“Checking out? Room 213? Okay…” she says, seemingly ignoring your apology. She picks up a different log book and flips through the pages, scanning down the list on a certain column of names. “Alright, if I could just ask you to sign here,” she says, scooting the book towards you with a quill ready to go.
Picking up the quill, you sign your name. “Now, I’m afraid we were-”
“Do you have the key?” she asks.
You and Octavia both put the room keys up on the counter which she takes with a slide of her hoof.
“And final charges, breakfast will be five bits,” she explains.
Octavia digs in the saddlebag on your left and puts up the amount of requested coins.
“But we-”
“Okay, you’re all set,” she interrupts again. “Thank you for staying at the Glues 601! Next please!” she calls over your shoulder to the line of ponies that had somehow formed behind you.
“B-But…” you stammer until a nudge in the side from Octavia makes you start walking. She quickly turns with you, sliding her cello around to keep it as hidden as possible.
“Isn’t there some sort of late fee?” you ask.
“If they don’t ask, I don’t think it’s a problem. Besides, we don’t have time if they- move, move, MOVE.”
The sudden change in her tone makes you start walking faster towards the door. “What’s wrong?” you ask.
“Harpo spotted us. He’s coming this way. Just keep moving.”
Almost by pure instinct, you feel the urge to turn your head and look. However, looking for him would only slow you down and confirm to him where you are.
“Where are we going?” you ask, wondering how she intends to avoid Harpo forever.
“Just follow me,” she says. “I have a plan.”
That’s the first reassuring thing you’ve heard today. At least Octavia knows what she’s doing and that’s good enough for you. Weaving through the crowds again, you try to make it to the front door.
Until, a certain blue mare comes into view.
You veer yourself and Octavia off course and behind another crowd of talking ponies. Thankfully, you don’t think she spotted you.
“What are you doing?” she asks.
“Beauty Brass is guarding the door,” you reply.
A harsh expulsion of air bursts forth from Octavia’s clenched teeth. A sudden dip of her head along with the abrupt tensing of muscles in her cheeks gives a clue that she may have just uttered a very unladylike phrase under her breath.
“How do we get out of here?” you ask.
“I… I don’t know…” she says.
So the mare you were depending upon has been caught in a pinch and hasn’t the slightest idea what to do. The door is being watched by a pony specifically on the lookout for you and Octavia while another pony in the crowds is tracking you down and the only thing you know about their location is that it they are rapidly getting closer.
A cold sensation starts to build inside your body, making the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end. As a reaction to the chill, you wrap a wing around Octavia, pulling her closer as she lets out a small surprised gasp. You keep walking, but pick up the pace a bit, Octavia trotting at your side. As casually as you can, you give a glance around the room, but you still cannot see Harpo.
“Where is Harpo now?” you whisper down to the stowaway in your feathers.
“He was coming from the left side, going around the long way from the crowds,” she answers back.
Excellent. He must be as inexperienced as walking through crowds as Octavia if he’s avoiding going through them. Looking up as if checking the clock, you can see the certain mixture of a light blue mane on blueviolet fur out of the side of your vision.
A big room full of large groups of ponies casually chatting amongst each other from wall to wall. The game is afoot and you have homefield advantage.
“Stick with me,” you say to Octavia, holding her to your side. She just nods as you can feel her nervous breathing by the way her chest inflates and deflates within your soft wing.
Unsavory characters are not too uncommon within your line of work and having one start to tail you is a very real occupational hazard. Adopting skills such as walking through crowds just comes with the job. However, unless you are equipped with the conversational skills to defuse any situation with an ornery guest (which you’re not in normal circumstances, much less here) then these types of ponies make you polish your skills until you could lose any pursuer among the crowd cover.
Twisting around one such group with matching blue suits and red ties, you steer Octavia and yourself deeper into the groups and chatter. Passing by many different conversations, some of news, some of the weather, and one of somepony’s preferred brand of socks, you make it into the middle of the room.
You slow down your pace as glance around, again seeing the unmistakable mane of the one you’re to avoid at all costs. While he’s getting closer, he is also incredibly slowed down by having to trot around, inexpertly swerve, and even shove in some cases, his way through the cluster of company.
This is a pretty standard tactic, luring them into the middle of the jungle and then ditching them. Thankfully, a rather lanky group of ponies are sitting nearby, easily tall enough for you and Octavia to duck behind. As Harpo is led further into your trap, you quickly walk around them and wait. Another passing group comes by which you walk beside to blend in with. Crossing the room again, you pass by another couple of chatting stallions and look back. Sure enough, Harpo is now whipping his head around, completely lost as to where you are.
You’re not out of the woods, yet. You have to keep moving as a moment of sheer logic can give your spot away. Weaving as unpredictably yet as casually as possible, you approach the front doors again.
Beauty is still there, looking for you. This poses a much more difficult problem. Question is, is she just there to wait for you or can you possibly lead her away from the door? Probably not. You’re going to have to get a bit more creative about this one. Looking around, you try to find some sort of distraction you can use to-
Why is Octavia not breathing?
You didn’t notice until now, but her nervous breathing has vanished altogether. She’s simply frozen in fear, guided along only by the pull of your wing.
“Breathe, Octavia!” you whisper to her.
She does so, gasping inwardly very rapidly. You need to get her out of here fast.
Looking around, you don’t see anything to take her eyes away from patrolling the room for you. No enticing tray of food to send past her, no wine she’d need to refill, no cheap lowest-bidder ice sculpture to suddenly have a chunk break off of. Only thing around here are chatty ponies.
That will do in a pinch. Looking around, you see one unicorn by their lonesome with a yellow mane, white fur, and black suit. Taking one last glance around for Harpo, who still hasn’t seemed to have found you again, you trot up to them.
“Hello there,” you say to them, getting their attention. “Can I ask a favor?”
“Well, certainly stranger! What can I help you with?” they ask loudly with a little whip of their hoof.
Their excited nature makes you worry about drawing attention. “There’s a blue mare at the front door looking for us,” you explain. “Unfortunately, I’m having a little bit of an emergency here,” you say gesturing to Octavia who’s still shaking a little.
“Oh dear,” they say.
“Yeah. So if you could ask her to just meet with us where the band is supposed to practice, I need to go to take her back to her room,” you say pointing to the stairs up to the second floor, “and try to calm her down. Can you do that for me?”
“Sure as sugared plums, darling! I’ll let her know!”
As he trots off towards Beauty Brass, you take Octavia back through the crowds towards the opposite end of the room. Glory of being in a large room of distracted ponies is most don’t tend to notice you wandering back and forth. One last look around to confirm that you’ve still lost Harpo and you prepare to make a break for it past the hopefully soon to be distracted lookout.
Sure enough, the white unicorn is chatting up quite the storm with Beauty despite the simple instructions you gave him. He seems to have been perfect for the job. She’s trying to keep her attention on the crowd while seeming to constantly get barraged by questions from the curious new friend she’s made.
As their heads are turned, another pony walks in through one of the end doors, giving you a window of opportunity. Sliding out behind the backs of the two chatting by the front of the building, you and Octavia finally step outside and around the corner to put a solid wall between you and anypony inside who could potentially see you.
Octavia’s breathing seems to have returned to its nervous state, although thankfully slowed down a bit.
“Are you okay?” you ask.
“Who would sugar their plums…?” she mutters.
“What?”
“Nevermind. We have to keep going,” she says, stepping out from under your wing. Slinging her case around again onto her back, she gallops alongside the road on three legs, using one hoof to attempt to wave down a taxi.
You look behind you to make absolutely sure you haven’t been followed outside. Sure enough, no recognizable faces coming after you.
“Where are we going now?” you ask her, but see as there’s some distance between the two of you.
She ignores you as an empty taxi cart comes into view. Octavia waves wildly as they begin to pull over. You canter up to them as she gives him her destination, but you unfortunately couldn’t catch what she said. She climbs up to the seat in the cart and holds out a hoof to help you up. As you get in and sit down, she lays down her cello behind her as you slide off her saddlebags.
“Okay, hold on!” says the rather old, but stoutly built gray cart puller. Adjusting his cap, he looks out into the street for other passing carts before taking off and merging seamlessly into traffic.
His technique and strength is a lot smoother than the cart ride that got you to the hotel originally. This pony must have been doing this for a long time.
The two of you sit in silence, except for the pitter patter of the wooden wheels underneath you and the noise of the city all around. Funny how last night you never felt so immersed in this place, but today it’s as if you and Octavia are totally detached from it. All of those mesmerizing signs seemingly have lost their dazzle in the daytime, being no more than just colors upon a forgettable backdrop of the town.
Your mind is still spinning with questions, but it doesn’t seem like she wants to talk. It does seem that she’s currently dead set on something, but you have no idea what.
“Where are we going?” you ask.
She doesn’t respond.
“Octavia?”
She squeezes her eyes shut, little wrinkles beside her eyelids folding on top of each other. Her shoulders set as the muscles in her forelegs tense up along with a hardening of the grip in her hooves. Breathing in, her head dips down a bit as a little slouch appears in her posture. Clearly, she doesn’t want to answer.
You want to just leave it, but there’s too much you want to ask to just leave the two of you in silence. So long as you’re on the way to only Octavia knows where, you decide to try something else. “So I talked to Harpo on the phone in the room…” you begin.
You see her tense up again.
“He said some things that I’d like to ask you about-”
Octavia holds up a hoof to stop you. “We can talk all about it later, as soon as we get there.”
“Where?” you ask again.
She doesn’t say anything, but she points her hoof forward. Following her hoof, you see her intended destination. Eyes growing wide and throat going dry, you feel your heart simultaneously drop and beat faster with fear and dread.
The train station.
“O-Octavia, you can’t do this…” you stammer.
Again, she’s just silent as the cart pulls up to the side of the road to let you and her off. She picks up her cello and steps down onto the sidewalk.
“Eight bits for the-” the cab puller begins, but is interrupted as she just thrusts a hoofful of bits towards him, easily more than the fare. Shakily putting up a hoof to accept them, she pours the golden coins into his possession. “Thanks!” he says, delighted with the generous tip.
“Octavia!” you say. She starts walking towards the station as you call out to her again. Quickly grabbing her bags and putting them around your back, you jump off the cart and run to close the distance between you and her.
When you catch up, you grab her shoulder with a hoof and try to hold her. “Where are you going?” you ask, panic cracking in your voice.
She struggles against your grip before turning towards you. “We’re going back to Canterlot. Now come on, the train leaves in ten minutes and I need a ticket.”
“We can’t just go back, you have a show to play!” you plead.
“I don’t care!” she barks. “I’d rather go back home than try to reason with those ponies who are waiting for us!”
“You knew we’d have to face them eventually,” you say, putting your other hoof on her other shoulder.
She only struggles against your grip again.
“Octavia!”
“I’m not ready!” she says, a waver in her voice. “You saw what they did! What they’ll do!” She shakes her head frantically. “I-I just can’t handle that, yet!”
“But if we run now, it will only put it off. It will only makes things worse and make them more angry!”
“I’ll take it!” she cries out, the last of her stoic demeanor breaking away. “I just want more time with you before they…” She grits her teeth as her head slowly drops to the ground. Her eyelids are clenched tightly as you see a small bit of moisture collecting in the sides of them.
You pull her close. Wrapping your hooves around her, you hold her as tightly as you can, not caring of any of the ponies walking by and watching the spectacle. You give a little squeeze in your grip, afraid she may try to escape again.
Feeling her warmth against your fur is different today. It does not bring the comfort or pleasure as you had known it to yesterday. Instead, it only brings a feeling of desperation. The fear that you may lose it forever should you let go. How did things change so drastically so soon?
She doesn’t try to free herself from your grip like you imagined. Instead, she leans into you, putting her face into the crook of your neck. Again, even the feeling of her breath blowing against you is made one of despair as you feel a wetness begin to grow on your shoulder. You take a hoof to stroke her mane, trying to find something to elicit the same safe feeling this close contact had the day before.
“Please…” she whispers. “Just one more day. One more day with you is all I want.”
You take a moment to consider it. For everything Octavia’s done, from being the one to reveal your feelings to allowing you both to have such an amazing day together, you owe her so much to at least give her request a chance.
Going back to Canterlot, how much time would that give you? The train ride home, and then possibly up to when the dinner party starts. If they realize Octavia’s not coming, then they’ll probably come back immediately. They also might decide to play the event without her, giving you both a few more hours alone.
But would it be worth it? Skipping this concert would without a doubt anger Frederic, Harpo, and Beauty Brass beyond words. It would also hurt her and everypony else’s career if they were a member short for a show. If you left with Octavia now, they would never accept you if you allowed her to do things like this.
“We can’t,” you say.
“Why?” she asks, her voice only a shaky breath.
“If we skip out on them, then they’d never let us be together,” you say. “I was talking to Harpo on the phone. He said that you were doing hurtful things because of me.”
Octavia groans into your shoulder.
“Is this true, Octavia?” you ask. “Have you ever done anything like that because of me?”
She doesn’t answer. After a while, you feel her slowly nod. You give her a little pat on the back.
“Then we need to show them that you and me together won’t cause any problems,” you explain. “If you can go back and play for them, just for today, then you and I can have as many days together as we want.”
Slowly, Octavia’s hooves rise up and reach around your back, returning your hug.
“I promised you so many things, Octavia. But the only way I can keep those promises is if we go back and face the others.”
“But I don’t want to…” she says.
“I know. I don’t want to, either.” You plant a small kiss on the back of her head. “But we have to.”
“Last call for 2B Whinnyapolis to Canterlot.”
The loud noise of the station’s announcement catches you off guard and nearly makes you jump out of surprise. You half expect Octavia to make one last break for it, but she just sits in your embrace instead.
Ponies walk by the two of you again, sitting together on the sidewalk. Some old, some young, some other couples as well. Some smiling, some disinterested, but all just trotting past you as if nothing was out of place. It begins to start feeling like yesterday again. Her warmth starting to gain its inviting feel and her hooves squeeze you as hard as you’re holding her.
“Alright…” she murmurs, giving a little nuzzle to your neck.
You smile as everything is returning to normal. You were scared that something today had ruined everything. That all of your future embraces would be forever tarnished, kisses and hugs lined with a sharp edge of fear.
The train whistle blows and you start to hear the wheels begin to move. Slowly, with some scraping noise, the train pulls away from the station, back to Canterlot. With it, taking the shadow of doubt that had tried to cover you. With her final escape gone, there’s only one thing left to do; make it back to the hotel.
“Are you ready, Octavia?” you ask.
Her grip tightens around you a little harder. You take that as a no.
“We have to go back now. They’re waiting for you.” You squeeze her back just as hard. “And you’ll have me there with you. I promise, I will not leave you alone with them for a second.”
She breathes in deeply as her hooves slowly pull away from you. Leaning back, she looks at you with a smile. “You really are my hero,” she says.
“I’ll try to be,” you respond.
“Well, well…” comes a voice trotting up to you.
You and Octavia both turn to see who it is.
“Glad to see the two of you can show some good judgement,” Frederic says. “At least at the last moment.”
“What are you doing here?” Octavia asks, shrinking down and leaning into you a little again.
“Just making sure you didn’t try to make a break back to Canterlot,” he says calmly. “We do have a show to play.”
You can tell Octavia isn’t comfortable and neither are you. While you knew you were eventually going to have to meet up with her bandmates, you didn’t expect it so soon.
He turns to you. “I’ve been watching through the front window,” he says. “Impressive how you were able to calm her down. She usually gets rather wild when she doesn’t get her way.”
“Thanks…” you say, shrugging off the comment about Octavia. You can feel her hoof grip your shoulder tightly. “So, shall we head back to the hotel?” you suggest.
“That would be best. Let’s hail a couple of cabs and then meet up again there,” Frederic says, looking down the street and waving a hoof.
“A couple? Why not go in just one?” you ask.
Both Frederic and Octavia look at you with a perplexed expression. They glance at each other before Frederic says, “Believe me, I don’t want to have to share space with you any sooner than you would with me. Let’s put some distance between us and enjoy what little time apart we have while it lasts.”
“We’ll be a little late going to the hotel, Frederic,” Octavia says.
“Why is that?” he asks, annoyance peeking in his voice. You also get a nervous inkling that Octavia make try to make another attempt at running.
“We shall be stopping somewhere to eat,” she says plainly. “Neither of us has had any breakfast.” She has a point. The two of you had not eaten since waking up and the little reminder makes your empty stomach give a little growl. Still, Frederic’s eyes narrow at her.
“Hotel breakfast not good enough?” he asks.
“I’d prefer something else,” she replies.
“I’ll have her back at the hotel before too long,” you interject. “Besides, the train’s already left, hasn’t it?”
He raises an eyebrow. “Fine. But if she’s not back at the hotel by one o’clock sharp, well, do you remember how you called security on us?”
“Yeah, uh… sorry about that,” you offer.
His expression does not change. “We shall be calling the police for attempted kidnapping if you do not bring her back in time.”
“Don’t they require a 24 hour period of a pony being missing?” you ask.
“Depends on how you word it. Either way, bring her back or else.”
He turns away and waves down a cab. He gives his destination to the puller, a brown earth pony in a yellow vest, and hops into the cart. After a couple moments, they blend into the street traffic and disappear from sight, his threat still lingering in the air.
“Call the police… can he do that?” you ask.
“They can and probably will,” she says turning and trotting down the road the opposite direction.
“But can’t we explain the situation when they arrive?”
“It’s a spectacle thing. They know we’ll be out in public and it would be more about causing a scene than anything,” she says shaking her head. “Negative press and embarrassing gossip about us.”
“Oh,” you say, unfamiliar with the idea about being gossiped about on such a level. “So, where are we headed?” you ask, changing the subject.
“Any place that looks like it would serve a decent breakfast past noon,” she replies. “Can you help me keep an eye out?”
“Sure,” you reply, trotting next to her.
It does feel like everything’s back to normal. At least, somewhat. Frederic’s interruption and threat were jarring, but still, the two of you walk down the street just like yesterday. If you could manage to capture the old feeling with her even after facing one of her bandmates, then maybe you could keep it after meeting with Beauty Brass and Harpo.
Speaking of Harpo…
“Octavia, I do have some things to ask you about,” you say.
She sighs. “Can it wait until we get something to eat at least?” she asks, turning towards you.
Whether or not she knows it, those are the most refined puppy dog eyes you’ve ever seen. Just the right amount of wide open eyes with the threat of crying completely subtle but present. Her lip pouting outwardly in such a way still maintaining its dignified stature. The perfect mixture of graceful and pathetic to tug your heart in all directions.
“...Fine, but please, not a moment sooner,” you plead. “Harpo said some things that really have me worried.”
“I know, and I’m sorry to keep blowing you off,” she admits, stepping towards you and placing her cheek against yours. Her warm affection is welcome and feels a little tickly when she continues talking. “But as you know, I’m afraid of facing him. Even the things he says through somepony else can be… intimidating. I don’t even know what kind of things he’s said and I’m scared of answering for them.”
“Because they’re all over-exaggerations?” you ask hopefully.
She steps away and shakes her head. “Not all of them...”
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THIS IS BACK THOUGH.
THE PLOT THICKENS!
suddenly the the train to Canterlot sounds nice i bet
If I could favorite this a second time, I would.
Let me describe what went through my head when I saw this updated....
'omygoshomygoshomygoshomygosh!'
Wow, this chapter is full downs, downs. I only hope for more ups later on!
Good job Whirring, how are you doing?
3509421
I'm pretty good. Riding the high of a new update while contemplating the next.
Love the series, one of the few pomance novels that i have time to read that isnt overly cliche.
...unfortonately i don't have time to read the next chapter now.
Is it that Octavia only wanted a thrill of being with someone of lower the class?The scandal of it all.
3509437 Havent seen you on steam in while :P, maybe I could help you a bit there.
3509587
Feel free to message me at any time. I'd love the help.
3509437
Socks. That is all.
3509757
I'll see if I can fit it in. Sadly, I doubt it with what I've got planned.
Might have to wait for one of the post-story extra scenes.
3509781 Socktavia is one of the best tavias
And thus we delve even deeper into the depths that is this beautiful story... Why must I read good Tavi fics? Why do I love Tavi so!? This must be your doing! A curse and blessing on you gears, because seriously, you make me love Tavi all over again!
If I was me or... you know what I mean. I would have knocked his god damned lights out.
Jerky band mates are jerks. I don't care how much trouble her lovesickness caused them; Octavia is more patient than a bolder in purgatory to put up with the constant verbal jousting being friends with that lot must require.
Oh how I've been waiting for this. Excellent stuff as usual!
Always excited to see an update for this story. Can't wait for the next one to come out...hopefully soon.
When did this turn into "The Bourne Identity" ?
The Equestrian music industry is hardcore.
And now the 3 month wait for the next amazing chapter.
You know when you have a title called "Room 213" It only represents two things to certain people who get the meaning of the title:
The serial killer Jeffery Dahmer and the song about Jeffery Dahmer by Slayer called "Room 213"
Harpo, you son of a bitch!
I would look for the secret, but got things to do. Good story, I did not notice any errors that caused a hiccup in my reading. Awaiting the next chapter with anticipation.
This was always how I envisioned a relationship with Octavia would work for her and him.
Well written story would be an understatement. This is beautiful as she is!
okay the way I see it Octavia became head over hooves for a stallion and when she mentioned it to her band mates who she believed were her friends they scoffed at it thought her to be naive, when she kept bringing it up they would laugh at her for it which eventually lead to arguments, when she realized that her "friends" would not support her in her love interest she stopped mentioning it and began scheming which lead them to believe that she was starting to see it their way. at least that is what I believe, I think it will be very interesting when they finally have a sit down to chat and this stallion uses his observation skills against them
3512399 You. Are. A. Genius.
Anyways, here is my opinion on this story:
At first, I was like:
i3.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/000/643/362/5b8.gif
A romance that's not clop? AND it's about Octavia?
Then I was like:
i0.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/000/643/322/c45.gif
This here story? Five stars.
THEN I was like:
i1.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/000/642/304/15a.gif
IT'S SO CUTE! I CAN'T TAKE IT!
AND THEN I was like:
i0.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/000/642/656/78a.gif
KHXCKNYJKJDKLJTYSKLHXLYHDKFUCKERSJSHTJKHXJHTXJKHJKHYDKJGGODDAMNITJSTKYTKJXYKDHYDHDKJHASSHOLESKLDHKYDHIHDJKHKEJH
And now I'm like:
i2.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/newsfeed/000/644/544/aae.gif
Can't wait for more!
3509961 "Jerk" nothin'; they've well and truly crossed the line into abuse, both mental and emotional.
Of course, it's nothing that prodigious high-speed application of hooves to flanks couldn't fix.
I don't believe I can express with words my confusion about and love of this story. This chapter was WELL worth the wait, now we must wait for the next chapter. (time to reset the season 4 countdown clock
) Probably gonna die of a heart attack when that pops up in the messages....
Speaking of the show, we'll probably bother you a little less about updating, what with the new episodes.
*Blinks, looking at the fact I just re-read all eight chapters because there was a new one...Well played sir, you have some stellar story writing skills there my friend.
3513622
New episodes will probably have me update faster as I need a major refill on my interest in pony. I should probably pick up the comics at some point as well.
still doing an excellent job. even though it takes a long time between updates, the wait is still worth it.
It just keeps getting better...
Need MOAR! Please give me MOAR!
Harpo would do much better pulling strings in the Equestrian Intelligence Agency. Ba dump tsh.
3509647
Screw you mister writer person. Taking your time, I am glad you are. But this sucks, always waiting to be satisfied. Also, If someone threatened cops on me, I would grin.
Fight me, but only if you want to. For some reason people find this enough to stop. It might be they have senses, or... other things.
Like Papaw always says. Don't bring a knife to a gun fight. But always have the biggest one just in case
My family is great. Wierd rant. Wtf happened?
I regret ever clicking the link when I saw this on the Featured List... Because I didn't know I could fall in love with such a story! This story is by far one of the best fanfics that I have ever read in my entire life! The characters are very well thought out and I feel like I really am in the story. Also, Octavia is about to become my favorite pony now
3517459
Dat bucking profile picture
Sooooooooooooooooooooooo...................................................
Next chapter?
Each chapter just gets better and better. It's almost like you're writing a few other really great stories while also working on this one that help you grow as a writer during the interim. Weird.
3518205
Have an update to Shylock and the first chapter of a whole new story before then.
Damn good story.
3518091 why thank you
Anypony else have images of assassin's Creed in their head during this chapter?
Hm...
Mayhaps it is my ridiculous scanning over details, but that stallion in the black suit seems oddly well structured for a backgrounder
Any reason for this, Mr. Gears?
3526381
No more significance in this story than the cart puller in chapter four.
It's just fun to write these super-personality characters.
OH SWEET CELESTIA! This fan fic has kept me at edge throughout all 9 pages
!
i seriously cant wait till the next chapter.
and i do understand a writers work takes time. so ill b sitting here following your stories waiting till the next post is released
.
Hope to see the next chapter soon.
Your new follower:
SwifferXD
3527732
Based on the actual Graves 601 hotel in Minneapolis.
Oh, why do i give Harpo ideas?