• 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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Precarious Things

Author's Note:

The reality of the moment haunts me.

This village...

This burningly bright sky...

Even as I shuffle towards the otherwise familiar sight of my apartment's front entrance, I feel my insides shifting, quivering. Every time I blink or close my eyes, I feel like I'm seated on a boat rocking in the middle of a tempestuous sea. I know that this is my home and that I belong here, but the sheer intensity of the events that I've been through make me feel as if I'm shaking loose the fresh tatters of a queer dream.

I just finished being a walking mutated biped version of myself over the course of several hours. There were ponies... people there that I recognized, and yet they were as mysterious to me as the dark side of the moon. Twilight Sparkle was there. But, for an anchor, she was a very fragile.. anxious one. Her distress was my distress, and now we're both lost in the wake of something far more confusing than triumphant.

And at the tail end of it all... something glorious... a beautiful display and a venomous show all at once.

Right now, as I reach for the doorknob with fingers that aren't there, I hear her melodiously happy voice... her tearful strings of violet and indigo as she clings to Vinyl... her Vinyl.

Her Vinyl...

Goddess help me. I've never wanted to crawl into a dark hole so badly in my life.

I open the front door. I instantly love and regret it.

Cello strings bleed off into phantom echoes, and her violet voice fills the void—along with her violet eyes. She's the absolute best and worst that she can be right now: happy.

"Oh! Vine! There you are!" She grins. Scribbler cuddles up on the cushions next to where she stands, and the orange backdrop only highlights the twinkle in her violet eyes all the more. "Just where have you been off to all morning?"

I gesture something... anything... and nothing. I hope she overlooks it and simply rides the crest of her joy elsewhere.

To my relief, she does just that. "You'll never guessed what I found out! Seems as though the Royal Castle of Friendship here in Ponyville is going to be hosting a brand new event! They call it the 'Friendship Gala.' Rarity let the information slip while I was visiting her, trying on some new dresses. Heehee... I swear, that mare is always reduced to putty whenever I'm in the same room as her."

I nod. I shuffle. I limp towards my bedroom.

"Still, they're trying to keep it super secret until they hear back from Princess Celestia. I mean, it's not like they're wanting to step on any of Canterlot's fetlocks, but Rarity did say they're establishing it in order to stave off some of the hype and over-abundance of attendees at the Grand Galloping Gala. Personally, I'm quite ecstatic! We'll get to perform for dignitaries from all across Equestria soon enough, Vine! Isn't that absolutely spectacular, love?"

I wince. I turn, giving her my best smile.

And that's when I see her. That tranquil smile. That ever-flowing drift to her mane. Her voice is on fire, like her smile. I couldn't imagine an even better encapsulation of an angel... an angel that once saved me.

That beauty hurts. And I can't show her that it hurts. It'll ruin everything.

"You look exhausted, Vine. Is everything okay?"

I nod—a very difficult thing to do with the weight of the lump in my throat. Saluting, I smile, and shuffle off towards my bedroom.

"Well, do get some rest. Me? I have lots of practice to do, but I promise to take it outside. Heehee... the whole town deserves to hear this! That first chair in the Canterlot Symphony Orchestra is mine already! I can just feel it!"

I wish I could feel it for her too.

All I can feel right now is...

The door shuts behind me. I slump into the bed, surrounded by tan shadows.

I curl up into a little white ball beneath the covers. I don't remove my shades. There's a reason for that.

The sobs come quickly, dizzying me with magenta layers of nausea.

I cling to the mattress like a castaway lost to the waves.

I'm not sure when the storm ends. Maybe it never ends. But I'm thrown into exhausting unconsciousness all the same.

With one final thought... painted violet... lingering constantly on a precipice...

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