Stroll

by re- Yamsmos

Interests

Rules were... well, they were rules, and Octavia was more than proud enough to call herself somepony who obeyed rules. There was a reason that rules were in place wherever and whenever they reigned supreme, and Octavia respected them and followed them like each and everypony else should as well. Now, there were rules—many rules—that were never meant to be broken. Rules that one could easily acknowledge as early as foalbirth, when common sense rang in and little pink brains were ripe for stuffing. These meaningful rules ranged from obvious things, like not to steal anything from anyone at any point as long as you lived, and to never walking across the Manehattan streets at any time around five-thirty without looking both ways at least half a dozen times, just to be sure, and even then some prat in a taxi could scream by and splash the sidewalk puddles upward like some kind of horizontal land-based waterfall.

Some rules, however, were so absolutely, completely, legitimately, ultimately, honestly, undeniably stupid, that they were just meant to be tapped at and prodded like those big-hatted Royal Guards serving under Queen Crumpet way east. Octavia followed rules—everypony did, really—but there were a select few that she would only just shake her head at and dismiss; a classroom of instructions better suited for the backside of toddler's toys. There were, in place, a ridiculously extensive list of rules that her principal back in high school had laid out near the end of her Junior year, when there were more things on her troubled mind than her rising grades and her massive social life. The old coot—an ex-professor from Los Pegasus University—thought that it was a tremendous idea to try cutting down on student traffic in the hallways, claiming that they were always packed to the brim with testosterone-fueled stallions and perfume-fuming mares to the point that both moving and thinking to yourself was nearly impossible. Octavia had to admit that it was a problem—citing many occurrences of ponies bumping into her and one almost socking her in the face due to a "simple identity mistake"—and even said that it was a very worthy thing to try amending.

The way that he and the school staff went about fixing it turned out to be so incredibly wrong and stupid that a strike, white signs and everything, ended up grouping outside the teacher's section of the building where they drank their coffee and talked about who was failing their classes and who inevitably wasn't. The principal's solution? One. Way. Hallways. Yes, one-way, like that big loopy bridge down in San Manecisco. But in a school. One of her afternoon classes—World History—was fortunately enough for her right before her locker, so when it came to finally going to that class, she had to go to her locker, make two circles, and then she could make it. Not everyone was as unfortunate as her, but some were more unlucky. Just days after the principal introduced this rule, tardy and shot frequencies went up at least three times than they had been before it all had started.

Suffice to say, it had ended pretty quickly, much to everyone's satisfaction, but the damage was done, and one-way hallways had made Octavia do something that she absolutely hated with every fiber of her being: be late.

Octavia hated meatloaf—not really a secret to everypony—but she hated being late a whole hell of a lot more. As Octavia grew older, and thus more independent and embarrassed of being seen with her parents, she found herself being late to school a lot more than she had with her mother, who always got up at exactly the same time and did the exact same things day in and day out to head to work and make it there countless minutes before she had to be there. Octavia was a bit different. She usually... woke up at around six, but sometimes spent too much time brushing her mane or eating cereal or reading a book to look at the clock. Concerts, as well. Octavia may have been born to play the bass—as depressing as that sounded—but, well, she knew what it was like to try walking to the concert hall with wine in her belly and rockets in her head. Not pleasant in the slightest, but so, so worth it in her state. Even as Frederick, Beauty Brass and even Concerto glared at her and barked at her for being late, she could only crack a smile, though it was mostly due to her being hungover and not actually enjoying being late. Her friends never really hated her for being just a tad late to their meet-ups, but Octavia did most of it for them whenever it happened, so there was no worrying on their part but oh so much on Octavia's. These events, of course, happened when she was still in school.

It wasn't like she had any actual friends in Canterlot. Sure, she sometimes went out for drinks with some of her orchestra mates—Frederick in particular being a reaaaally heavy drinker—but... eh, she guessed that they didn't really count.

Being late, though, was something that Octavia dreaded every time she awoke, even when she looked at the clock and found that it was hours before she usually woke up. Surely somepony had tampered with her clock, so she shook and trembled like a leaf in the autumn winds until she could confirm what the time really was. If she ended up being late, that would be one less spoonful of ice cream that she could eat at the end of the week.

Octavia didn't have any ice cream to speak of, and most stands that served them were surely closed at such a late time as this, but this was certainly one of those times. The train was scheduled to reach Baltimare and drop off its... passengers at around five o' clock sharp, when the sun would still be on its descent to hide away from the pony population behind the Unicorn Range due east. Instead, somehow, Octavia and her dysfunctional companions found themselves disembarking the public transport from hell at about six-thirty instead, when the bright streetlamps lining the sidewalks and the yellow ceiling lights of buildings lit up and made a rather imposing display along the paved roads of Baltimare.

Octavia paused to brush a lock of her dark gray mane out of her eyes. Well, at least the fish markets in all their slimy glory couldn't chuck their wares at her when they were closed. There was at least one silver lining in the moonlight tonight. Her stopping to assess her hair prompted the light brown griffon previously pulling the caboose behind her to purposely bump into her and almost knock her to the pavement of the train station platform. Octavia, having seen this coming somewhere in the back of her mind, had prepared herself and only stumbled about a step or two before shooting Valkyrie a glare. The bird simply winked at her before joining the rest of her species. Octavia, shaking her head, lifted a hoof to join them, but only realized she had turned to stare back at the motionless train when it had hissed in her ears.

Octavia looked the locomotive up and down without a word, but as she about-faced and began to walk away, she swore that she had left something behind on it.

"Hey, Octavia!"

The mare looked up at the shout, slightly cringing about W's insistence on doing such a thing in the dying hours of daylight. She hoped that he hadn't woken anypony up. Deciding that it most likely wasn't a good idea to let him continue his actions, Octavia let out a small sigh and trotted over to where he and the others were gathered at the end of the station. The whole thing looked to be like a mid-game hoofball huddle, but with a benchwarmer Unicorn present instead of the big burly griffon that had probably suffered from a broken leg or something. Beyond them, a large enclosed square of road shot out in three different directions and six different roads. The streetlamps still displaying the white image of a walking pony shone down onto the middle of the intersection, inviting the noponies traversing the pavement to use it wisely.

W tapped at his backpack's strap with his talons, beak clicking and clacking.

"Where to?"

Oh yes, their plan. Octavia really didn't like it, but she didn't really have a choice when it came to fighting both her body and five others. Ponyville—home—was within grasp; a quick train ride that would take an hour or so. Then she could turn her oven off and get back to practicing music. But, she couldn't help but admit that... well, it was about six-thirty or so in the afternoon, and she hadn't slept, showered, or really eaten in the past day or so. She was tired, and if that meant one more day without being under her bedsheets, then screw it. She couldn't hate herself too much, however. It was Lavi's idea to find a hotel, not hers. Being a bit more familiar with the city, apparently, Octavia was chosen to lead them to the nearest one.

It seemed a bit odd. W and the others had surely been in Baltimare in the past, but they didn't know where any hotels were? She shook her head. Whatever. As long as they didn't complain about how they were going to go to a prissy suite, she was content to lead the quintet where they all needed to go. Cocking her head, she sucked on her lower lip, clucked her tongue, and nodded her head toward the street.

"Well, let us depart." She didn't need to look behind her to see Valkyrie's rolling of her green eyes, so she added, "You won't be groaning and moaning when you see where we're going, dear Valkyrie."

"Is that right?" The griffon asked. Raising a brow was quiet; Octavia knew she had done it anyhow.

Octavia turned, "Of course. The Red Baron is one of the absolute finest hotels in Baltimare." She looked Valkyrie up and down, then smirked and finished, "Certainly not one to suit somepony as... humdrum as you."

A flurry of stomps—even heard across the pavement—stormed up next to Octavia. She swallowed a lump down her throat, trying to remind herself that she really needed to shut her mouth sometimes.

"Oh please, just because you're 'Canterlot-bred' doesn't mean you're above us all."

"It's a good thing that I'm not from Canterlot, then."

"It's a good thing that I'm not a humdrum pony."

Octavia blinked. Oh hell. She had said 'somepony'. Now she'd never hear the end of that.

"Look, ladies," Sesame spoke from next to Octavia's ear. She swiftly turned about to find him trotting by her left side. "I know that you guys have some kinda hate-boner for each other, but it's like seven at night and I'm tired as hell." He looked at Octavia. "Can you just show us where this hotel is, please?"

"Thank you, bump," Valkyrie said earnestly. Octavia could see Sesame's eyes narrowing in response to her slur. The griffon waggled her eyebrows and rolled a foreleg out in front of her like a red carpet. "Please, Octavia, show us where we can sleep tonight."

"Watch it, that 'bump' could fill you full of holes, you bloody–"

"Are we done?"

Octavia looked up. The amount of unexpected, sudden voices appearing out of nowhere were reaching rather scary levels. W, his wings flapping, looked down at her as he crossed his forelegs, eyes mere slits. Octavia shrank back.

"Yes."

"Let's go, then. Lead on, Octavia."

As Octavia began trotting ahead once more, she inwardly prayed that she wouldn't stumble upon her roommate—if she hadn't already gone back home.

She'd never be able to explain why she was trotting around at night with four griffons and a burger flipper. Well, she could try, but mentioning that she had gone out for a walk and had now ended up here would only lead to hysterical snorts and silent judging from the mute. Sometimes, her roommate was a blessing to have; a mute never openly made fun of her for eating ice cream twenty-four-seven. Then again, a mute never really spoke in the first place. That was kind of the point. She shook her head, finding a yawn escaping her gaping mouth as she groaned. W had a good idea to halt her and Valkyrie's pissing match. Octavia was tired as well.

The short trot down the few blocks leading to the hotel was rather uneventful, and actually pretty overall quiet if it weren't for the small yawns and incessant claims of "being tired" coming from the others. Short, indubitably so. The Red Baron was certainly no Burj Haylifa, admittedly, but the gasps and small whoops from Lavi and Valkyrie sure made it seem like so. Octavia gave a playful roll of her eyes, despite one of the persons involved being someone she kind of disliked. It was always a little enjoyable when Octavia showed somepony all the luxurious Canterlot restaurants for the night. The look of utter glee in their twinkling eyes was something she always treasured.

She trotted up to the glass front door, swinging it open with a hoof and waiting for the others to enter before entering herself. Valkyrie, surprisingly, didn't do anything regretful while passing Octavia, despite the perfect opportunity that was presented to her for a subtle gut punch or a hoof tripping. Octavia, shrugging to herself, simply walked past the griffons and Unicorn as they stopped and stared at all the hanging chandeliers and fancy-looking wallpapers, a welcome shift in scenery from the quiet, orange-tinted streets outside the door. She'd seen this place many times before, and it was nothing to really gawk at anymore.

Walking up to the front desk, she knocked a hoof on the countertop and roused the Pegasus from behind it from her irresponsible partaking in dozing off. Shaking her head and wiping the slobber from her muzzle, she blinked rapidly and straightened up in her seat, only to widen her eyes and gasp.

Octavia cleared her throat.

The Pegasus, breathing in and out at a terrifyingly hitched pace, stammered, "N–name?"

Octavia smiled, "Octavia Philharmonica."

The worker turned to her right to leaf through a white folder, presumably full of papers and records.

"Getting us a suite, huh?"

Octavia shut her eyes for about three seconds, breathing in through her nose and then expelling them out like the bird next to her must have been.

"Yes, Valkyrie," she spoke, in the most condescending voice she could muster in her fatigued state, "the usual room that I frequent whenever I stay in this nice place."

Valkyrie blew a raspberry as she leaned forward and placed an elbow on the countertop, cocking an eyebrow at Octavia with a smirk on her face. "Please, you're not actually anyone famous you Sputnik-damned–"

"Here you go, Ms. Philharmonica," the Pegasus said, sliding a keycard across the counter with a grin, "Room 213, Gold Floor."

"Thank you, ma'am," Octavia said, grabbing the card.

"Thank you, Octavia! Can't wait to see your concert next week!"

Octavia, biting down on the keycard, turned to her left to begin walking down the hall. She stopped, about dropping the plastic in her mouth at Valkyrie's dumbfounded expression. Chuckling to herself, she said promptly, "Jaw off the floor, Valkyrie. Help the poor janitor out, would you kindly?" She walked past the griffon, not wanting to care for her next stuttered words. How was that, you poached yolk? The sounds of her hooves clopping along the white tiles on the ground, Octavia looked to the other side of the lobby and found W, Lavi, T, and Sesame still gawking at the area that surrounded them. Catching W's attention, the mare spat the keycard into her hoof and flashed it at him.

W, getting the idea, waved the others to start heading their way.

She about-faced to lead the way just as she had out on the streets, but found Valkyrie blocking her way.

Octavia stuck out her tongue and made the sound of clogged flatulence.

Valkyrie, narrowing her eyes, brought up a talon and made the silent motion of scissors cutting away at the air.

"No thank you, Valkyrie," Octavia said, stepping by, "I'm into stallions, not mares."

She quietly hoped that the griffon knew what she meant. It really wouldn't have been as good if she didn't understand.

Comments

[the other sans]

Octavia was chosent to lead them

1. Chosen.

Ahh Octavia, never change. Wait, this walk is changing her anyways. Stay snarky.

[re- Yamsmos]

7407276 Always look forward to your comments. Can't believe I didn't see that typo.

Snarktavia is the best though, isn't she?

[hoodieninja447]

So when are those two going to start trying to kill each other?

Also, does this take place before You'll never know, dear?

[re- Yamsmos]

8055697 Before, during, and after.