Stroll

by re- Yamsmos

Dying

There weren't many things in Octavia's orchestrated life that scared her more than falling. Though there were many different versions that defined the term "falling"—namely skill-wise, emotion-wise, and sense-wise—there reigned only one that could make her physically, dangerously shake in response. She had faced moments where the prior named three were stirred like a strange witch concoction, their container steaming hot and overcooking them like the sun against a sidewalk egg yolk. There was the time when she was auditioning for First Chair in the Academy, having not had much time to study up on the sheet of music she had been assigned by the class' teacher days before. She had otherwise aced it, a tasteless pouring of sweat dripping down her face as the maestro herself gave her a standing ovation. There was the time against the window, looking over her expensive luxuries and feeling lonelier than she ever had in her life. She still woke up the next day and went to practice at the concert hall, pretending that nothing had happened the previous night. There was the time when she had suddenly gone deaf in the middle of practice, and had to rely solely on both her remembrance of the piece she was playing and exactly how her hooves flew across the neck of her beautiful double bass. After her hearing had returned with the method of a few quick head tosses, she was greeted with applause and smirks, citing it as one of her best performances yet.

Did that go under skill-wise? Now that she thought of it, it doubled as both– no, it couldn't. In fact, it was more of a lack-of-sense-wise experience. So she had two skill-wise experiences in her life, and no legitimate sense-wise one to showcase. She thought for a second and reached out to the memory part of her brain—the hippocampus if she was correct—in order to find an instance of said event. There was second grade when she had found a cat in the street by her house and then realized she had had allergies, but that was something she didn't really enjoy discussing. She could bring up the time that Buddy brought home a dead pigeon and propped it on her house's patio, stinking up the whole place to the point where she debated buying a gas mask at the nearby flea market to survive the ordeal. She didn't necessarily want to ruin her beloved dog's cute status, so that was a no. Maybe the thing with the plunger...?

No, that wouldn't do either.

Where–

Falling. That's right. Gods she really got off track that time. If she counted the times she'd done so in the past few days, how many hooves would she need? She knew for sure that she'd have to make use of all four that she, presumably, still had on her. Five, maybe? Six? Was she doing it again?

Falling.

She couldn't say it was her worst fear, but it most definitely stood above the high mark of hers labeled The Gods Have Forsaken Me. Falling, in the literal sense. From a staircase. From a supermarket. From a skyscraper. From a cloud. From thousands of miles in the sky. She never understood how Pegasi could handle such a thing; being up there in the big blue sky, always in danger of suddenly plummeting to the unforgiving ground below at the (possibly) literal drop of the hat, she was sure she'd most likely end up puking about every two seconds of engaging in the action. She was always immensely proud to be an Earth Pony, citing her accomplishments and popularity as direct results of her being so, and this was one very perfect exemplar of why. It surely wasn't a rare occurrence to hear of young Pegasi on their first flight ending up in the hospital—as horrible and terrifying as it was—but it was still enough to scare her anyway. She didn't exactly have Basophobia, but if anything she was very close to it. She could handle those honestly breathtaking glass elevators perched on the sides of tall towers, and she could handle looking out the window of her second-story apartment complex back in Canterlot. If there was something that could surely stop her from teetering over the edge and diving to the solid water of concrete or dirt, Octavia was fine.

But right here, right now?

She was glad to have two pairs of tactful, intelligent griffons watching her back every step of the way. Their impressively quick reflexes, as she had personally bore witness to, were also very helpful.

Stepping back from the now very obvious cliff-face, Octavia let her eyes fall tightly shut, a reasonably rocky sigh escaping her open mouth. As she wiped her eyelids and rubbed at them absent-mindedly, she turned her head to her left to find L smirking at her in a last-ditch effort to suppress the giggle in her throat. The griffon opened her beak to speak something, then closed it shut and bit on the bottom half, sheepishly looking away before glancing back and saying something she obviously thought kinder.

"Nice."

Octavia gave her a hard glare, grimacing as she gave the edge of the rock one last regard, stepped even further away, and adjusted the messenger bag still clinging to her body. The low wind whistled past her from the canyon below.

To sum up the last few minutes of her life—aside from her usual wandering thoughts—Octavia and the griffons had finally escaped the cave inside the Smokey Mountains. A lovely welcoming party of blinding sunlight had greeted the mare first, leading her to the end of the rock face as she seethed and covered her eyes with a single hoof. The griffons, smarter than she, had shielded their sights before stepping out, and were thus able to save their musical companion from falling to her doom. She couldn't lie to herself, though. Even if she had fallen, they surely would have unfurled their magnificent wings and dove after her before she hit the dirt, right? They wouldn't just let her... right?

She now realized that her heart had stopped, and was now trying its hardest to pump blood at the usual pace. Even her organs hated slacking on the job. Zacherle, if there wasn't anything in the entire world that was any more miserable...

Octavia heard movement from behind her, prompting a quick turn-around all-too rehearsed of her's. Valkyrie, seemingly wanting the lead for once, was already beginning to walk off in a rush. Her scalp feathers bounced and jostled in tandem with the Magicarm holstered inside the holster on her heavily armored back. Hearing nothing behind her, the griffon about-faced and cocked a brow at the narrowed eyes and small frowns sent her way. She rolled her eyes, groaning all the while as her raspy voice called, "What? We gotta keep moving, don't we?"

"You could at least wait a while," W replied, his frown deepening each second he held it, "Octavia about took the high dive a second ago."

Valkyrie's eyes narrowed. They darted to her right, toward the cliff, and then back to W. "So?"

Her answer took the form of W simply unveiling his left wing, its primaries and secondaries ruffled and tried. Folding it back to his side, he brought up a claw and promptly stabbed it at Octavia, who about jumped at the unexpected contact. Feeling the sharp talon press against her side, she swallowed a peculiar lump down her throat and gave out a breath when the claw returned to its rightful place in the dirt.

"Does it look like she can fly, Valkyrie?"

"Well, obviously no," the griffon responded, "but she's no worse for wear."

Octavia looked to her right. W was studying her for a brief second until he asked softly, "Are you okay?"

She nodded, a well-accepted smile appearing on her lips. "Yes, thank you."

He returned the gesture with a simple, "Okay then," and then faced his right to address the other members of his party, "I guess we're good to go. I'll take point, but be on the lookout." Walking up to and stepping past Valkyrie, he added gruffly, "No telling if those crazy-ass ponies down below'll come after us if we stay."

Crazy ponies? Octavia, to the chagrin of her being, craned her neck to peer down into the canyon to her immediate left. A glower on her face, she pressed her lips against her cheeks and tilted her head, calling after W as she began to trot alongside L and T. "What ponies?"

"Hooffields and McColts," L replied for him, bumping Octavia with her elbow, "buncha hobo ponies fighting over land or something. They apparently haven't gotten bored, since they've been bumping heads for the past hundred years over it."

"Did we ever actually look into the real reason back in Hurrying?" Valkyrie asked as she glanced at her friend, not yelling, cursing, or screaming at someone for the first time in her life. "Pretty sure we found a book about it at the library there."

"Yeah but checking it out was like five bits, that was way too steep."

"Hey T!" Valkyrie called, chuckling. "You ever get the name of that librarian?"

Octavia looked his way to see the normally neutral look on his face fall flat. He turned to Valkyrie slowly. Not a word came out of his mouth.

She and L gave an uproarious howl of laughter, its distinctively female sound reverberating through the canyon as they continued their walk. Their jagged pathway jutted out from the side of the mountain, running a perfect trace that mirrored each and every shape and crevice along the wall to their right. Though she could only see the trail wrapping around the corner of progress a little ways downward, she knew deep down that either a rocky slide or a quick flight was in her future.

Wait. Rocky... oh Gods she just noticed the pun she had made earlier.

A long, drawn-out sigh roused her from her approaching head-thumping. "Ahh... she was pretty hot though, wasn't she, T?"

"Shut up," was his low reply.

Not entirely silent, Octavia saw. Good to know. Strong, silent type was a cliche as it was, but strong, quiet type? She'd never seen that in her fiction books before. Then again, she'd never read anything about a lone mare walking around with four griffons either. Her eyes widened. Had she just made up the idea for a story? Could she try honing her skills and crack out a bestseller?! Could Octavia Philharmonica be well known as both a bass player and an author?! The idea excited her. Oh, she couldn't wait to get home now!

She involuntarily wiped her forehead, discarding the collection of sweat that had begun pouring down it. She regarded the sky for a hot second... dammit... and winced at the bright sunlight peeking in through the heavy cloud layer below it. Its rays stretched out, as if trying to escape its blank white prison to help bring heat to all in need of it. Octavia sure as hay didn't count as one. If anything, the sun could go buck itself. If it was gonna continue its scalding tirade on her, it might as well just leave.

Actually, when she thought about it, she was the one who would be leaving, wouldn't she?

Hopefully, at the very least. Rocky slide or quick griffon flight.

As fun as the former would be, she had to listen to both her gut feeling and nagging butt and insist on the latter. Looking back at the still giggling Valkyrie and L, the frowning T, and the head-shaking W in the front, Octavia had to admit...

...she'd be in pretty good claws.

Comments

[Litihur]

I didn't get the "rocky" joke.

[re- Yamsmos]

6950271 Octavia gave a "rocky" sigh out in the beginning of the chapter after almost falling to her death.