• Published 26th Jul 2015
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The Things Tavi Says - shortskirtsandexplosions

Let me tell you a few things about my roommate, Octavia. After all, she saved my life.

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Fuzzy Things

Author's Note:

"Vinyl, have you seen Scribbler?"

Rich bands of shimmering violet flicker across the room, and that's how I know that Octavia's home. I pause the beat on my mixer and slip my headphones off, glancing her way.

She's pacing in circles again. A loose strand or two of hair have popped loose from her otherwise perfect mane. Her hard hoofsteps resonate with staccato bursts of red and brown.

"Honestly, I don't know where she's always running off to," she murmurs, and there's the violet again. An abrasive growl interrupts the usually velvet contours of her voice, and it tickles me. "I swear! That infernal creature was a limp ball of tame fuzz when I first chose to adopt the thing! Isn't it enough that I feed it the most exquisite feasts day in and day out?!"

She scuffles to a stop with crimson friction, fussing with a bowtie that refuses to be anything but stiff and tight.

"Bollocks!" A splash of purple. I've never known her to cuss around anypony else. "This is all Miss Fluttershy's fault. Such a kind, charming pony... but she could peddle a slug to a salt farmer, I swear to Celestia..."

I stare calmly at her. Then, adjusting my shades, I take a deep breath and peer across both halves of our makeshift studio/foyer. A bright sun pours in through the front windows, rich and green with the soft ambiance of Ponyville beyond. Somewhere, a neighbor's dog barks, and the jagged red bands briefly interrupt my concentration. Centering myself, I pivot in a full circle, listening intently. At last, I'm bathed in warm waves of undulating orange. They're resonating from the upper left corner of the room, atop one of my speakers.

I smile. True fans of bass are hard to find. I'm certainly not about to complain.

Concentrating, I reach out with magic and lift the kitten from her curled sleeping spot. The orange waves crash against pink bluffs as she mewls in protest, but she's far too tired to put up a fight.

"Ehh?" In a violet pulse, Octavia's voice hits a pleasant note. She swivels around in time to embrace the tiny tuxedo cat as it floats toward her. "You found her? Oh Scribbler, you elusive miscreant!" The more poetic Octavia's words get, the less angry, though I know she'll deny it. The eloquence is laced with a satin rich purple as she cuddles the kitten close, nuzzling it with a fuzzy smile. "You certainly adore high places, do you not?" Thin eyes drink in the fussy feline up close. "Would it truly suffer you to leave a note next time? Hmmm? You're certainly keen on leaving presents in the most inconvenient places, so I don't see why not."

Scribbler replies by not replying. All the while, her slitted eyes are locked on me, like a foal desiring the assistance of a gentler, more forgiving parent. I simply sit here, leaning casually against my turntable, until an errant sigh flies out of Octavia's mouth on indigo wings.

"Oh, I shan't be taking my frustrations out on the poor thing," she murmurs, placing the kitten down. With the flash of a white-tipped tail, it scurries around the corner, no doubt to scale the top of Octavia's oak dresser and resume snoozing. "I just... I just can't sit still, Vinyl!" Octavia resumes her frantic pacing. Rivulets of deep red echo across the apartment, and I'm sorely tempted to switch the electronic backbeat on and take notes. "I don't know how you do it! Aren't you just tearing apart on the inside with anticipation?"

I shrug. A yawn builds up in the back of my throat, but I momentarily fight it. I glance out the corner of my shades, finding nothing but empty plastic bottles within reach. My heart sinks. What I wouldn't give for a hearty swig of Dr. Pony right about now...

"How long has it been?" she continued, undaunted. "Six days? Seven?! I know that the Princess is a busy mare, but surely somepony in her employ would have updated us by now! I mean... take that infantile dragon of hers! What has the little whelp got to occupy his time with every day?"

Blinking, I look towards the corner of my instrument panel. I pluck an enchanted sound stone from its notch and hold it up to the light with a smile.

Octavia's glare is so sharp it could slice the diamond in two. "We will most certainly not be bribing the servantile creature," she drones. "Though I would be lying if I said I hadn't once considered the possibility."

I shrug and place the shard back down.

"And it is not as though I haven't got better prospects lying in wait—" Octavia's eyes bulge towards the end of her utterance, and she smiles nervously in my direction. "That is to say... we."

My smile is more than forgiving.

"But... it's just that this opportunity is so... convenient!" She resumes pacing, waving a hoof in the sunny air. "Not to mention local! For the first time in forever, our town has a truly legitimate reason to be placed on the map! We're suddenly more than a tiny marker, and yet it feels as though everything is slipping away! Oh Vinyl, I simply cannot bear it!"

She slumps down on her favorite cushion with a withering sigh. Her legs curl underneath her and an elegant tail wraps around to her tummy. I swear, in just a few seconds, she'll be purring with orange intensity.

Instead, she mutters, "I should really stop obsessing. But, I'm not getting any younger, Vine." I know it's serious when things become monosyllabic. "I once thought that having a chance to perform at the Grand Galloping Gala would ensure my spot as First Chair in the Canterlot Symphony Orchestra. But that came and went in a blur, and quite disastrously too. Now this... this opportunity rests within a stone's throw of our very apartment and it absolutely kills me to wait for an update with each passing day."

I listen and watch intently. I care for Tavi and everything she's confessing, but damn if this nebulously violet aura isn't intoxicating. I slip a hoof to the side while she isn't looking and sketch a few musical notes and refrains.

Her next words jostle me back into the moment: "That's it!" She tilts her chin up with a haughty pose, eyelids resting elegantly shut. "From now on, I, Octavia Melody, promise to no longer obsess over something so silly and trivial! I am a well-to-do mare with an agreeable fortune and a trustworthy roommate. That is surely nothing to complain about. Whatever the future is in store for me, I shall greet it with the utmost dignity, however distant it may be."

Fatefully, the doorbell rings right then and there. The suddenness of it makes me wince, but I endure the fountaining waves of bright gold with aplomb.

Just as the colors fade, however, I make out Octavia dashing towards the front entrance like a frantic filly with the need to pee.

"Oh my goodness! Oh my goodness!" The purple radiance is so thick that I find it hard to focus, until at last her smile is shredding through it all like a crescent moon, gallant and glistening. "Vinyl, the mailmare! It's the mailmare, Vinyl!" She flings the door open to blinding light, and in the space of a half-second she's cleared her throat and put on gentle airs. "May I help you, Miss Hooves?"

"Huh? What for?" Derpy's voice billows into the apartment before her eyes do. From across the way, I see her gaze teetering in opposite directions, masked in panicked confusion. "Do I need help? This is the Scratch/Melody residence, is it not? Ohhhhh..." The pegasus shivers, clutching her mailbag while yellow strings emanate from her feeble voice box. "...I'm delivering to the bee hives again, aren't I?"

"No no, Miss Hooves, it's... uh... quite alright," Octavia stammers. From the guttural brown vibrations of her stomach, I can tell she's struggling to contain her excitement. "I see you have an envelope there. Is it postmarked for 483 Faust Street?"

"Uhhh... I-I think so—"

"Then relinquish it! Quickly!" Octavia stretches her hooves out, shivering slightly. "Erm... please?"

"Here you go, Miss Scratch!"

"I'm Miss Melody, my dear," Octavia says, nevertheless scooping up the envelope in her dainty fetlocks. "Vinyl Scratch is the one with the glossy shades."

I wave with a smile.

"Ohhhhhhh..." Derpy's eyes travel along the heels of her yellow voice. She smiles and waves back, though her aim is off by about thirty degrees. "Nice to meet you, Miss Scratch! I love your latest alb—"

THUD! Octavia slams the door shut with a crimson gunburst.

"Oh blessed Celestia, this is it, Vinyl!" she squeals, prancing in a gay circle. "It even has the royal font! Mmmmm! Can you believe it?" She grabs a pure silver letter opener from her half of the foyer and commits bloody murder on the envelope. "This is it! This is it! This is..." She slides the letter out, and her jaw drops. Just as quickly as it was birthed, her smile falls apart, melting in an instant.

I crane my neck, curiously arching an eyebrow above my shades.

Her sigh is long, anguished, a dull dead indigo. "How lucky for us," she mutters, waving the parchment in our direction. "We have been especially chosen for an extravagant sea voyage to the sandy shores of Dream Valley. Hmmmph... if we fill out a survey and mail it back to the sweepstakes offices in Canterlot, we just might have a one in six hundred thousand chance of winning ourselves a luxury cabin." She grumbles, tossing the crumpled letter into a waist-basket before slumping once again atop her velvety pillow. "That positively leaves me with a one in six million chance of earning that First Chair in the Orchestra."

My breath escapes me in humored bursts. I leave my table, trotting towards her with a sympathetic smile.

"Oh Vine, I simply am a hopeless wreck, aren't I?" She buries her muzzle in her hooves, groaning. "Imagine, a mare my age, acting like a spoiled teenage princess. If only Mother could see me now. She'd roll over in her... in her... well... wherever she might be laying, dead or alive." She looks up, gazing across the room with moist eyes. "You of all ponies deserve a better class of roommate."

I hate it when she says that. Squatting low, I bring two hooves together and flap them apart, mimicking pigeons in flight.

"Hmmmf? The park?" She fidgets atop her resting pillow. "I... I don't know. It's bad enough that you have to see me like this. But at this time of day, there are bound to be dozens of ponies there... if not more."

I shrug, adjusting my shades with a careless grin.

"Oh, Vinyl, you're right. You're always right." She sits up, straightening her mane. Her gaze and her bowtie match the royal velvet clinging to her vocal notes. "I'm a lucky pony... and an even luckier one to live in this town. So let's go out and enjoy it, yes?"

I nod.

"Just..." She stands up and trots briskly across the apartment. "Just let me make sure Scribbler's food bowl is filled first. The poor thing would be dead without us, after all."

I gaze after her, exhaling softly. I can already tell that the next hour or two will be filled with her rambling about the infinite struggle between dry cat food and soft cat food, including the philosophical merits of both.

But I can withstand it. I want to.

After all, Tavi saved my life.

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