• 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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Uncontrollable Things

Author's Note:

Three movements in, all full of sweat and strobes, and I wonder why Twilight or Pinkie Pie haven't bothered to restrain me yet. This night is intense, even for me. I have every pony by the scruff of their neck, and instead of kicking and thrashing they are all bouncing. Jumping. Jiving.

This is the absolute best session I could have asked for, which is precisely what concerns me. Nevertheless, I throw the fear into the wind as I twirl and go to town on the turntable, shifting a song to a faster tempo in mid-track, accelerating the black heart of this harmonic echo chamber into overdrive.

Perhaps the real reason everypony is on board is because this night... this dance... this musical moment of mayhem is a beautiful catastrophe. Nopony has ever truly known what to make of Princess Twilight's brand new Friendship Gala. So, it more or less has to present itself, to evolve before the public eye.

I am the mutation. The spark of such melodic evolution. I lunge onto land and toss my gills before the fire. It's a beautiful explosion of light, sound, color. I reach deep into the schish of my mind and pull out an entangled cornucopia of shimmering ear flavors. Maybe most of the crowd can't comprehend it. They don't have to. They just have to writhe, dance, die to their inhibitions.

With a spin of a record, I shoot us over a crest of sonic vibrations and coast us down a hill of trance. From the deepest, darkest depths I raise the next movement. It is a rich, undulating, catastrophic thing, with muffled explosions growing louder and louder in pitch, accompanied by vibrant splashes of red and gold. Cymbals and snares join in, magnifying the penultimate thrust in each heartbeat of every listener. And then—when the world appears to have reached a momentary hush, I shatter it... shatter the club with bass.

And... what the hay... I go for broke. I slam the speakers into full blast, and now the whole castle is shaking with steady booms. The floor vibrates from everypony leaping in time with the shotgun salvos. It's so intense that it nearly dismantles my shaking booth from under me.

Across the way, something with stripes is whooping his head off. Either Beau is drunk or he's about to explode with pride and pleasure. Maybe both. Merriweather clings to him like an inebriated windsock. A few spaces away, Lyra and Bon Bon stand beside the punch table, simply gawking at the technological earthquake unfolding before them. It occurs to me that neither of my two friends have had the distinct pleasure of actually seeing me do something live. I don't know whether to feel proud or sorry for blowing their minds.

Octavia is a remarkbly good sport. She sits the entire time atop her stage like a perfect lady, gawking at me and the pulsating crowd. Her velvet ears twitch and shake. I know that it's her closest take on rave dancing, and I love it. I wish I could be buried for an eternity with those ears.

But as amazingly awesome as this entire thing is, I can't help but feel as though somepony should have ended it fifteen minutes ago. Surely this night belongs to Twilight Sparkle and her fellow Friendship Council Members... not me. I gaze across the way, lost in sound and sweat. I spot the alicorn on her throne. Her eyes are downcast. The gray aura around her is still as a frozen pond, even despite the sheer intensity of the night. That's how I realize that something is amiss... if the one ambassador of friendship who counts isn't enjoying the very first Gala she's set out to make.

It's a DJ's job to entertain the crowd. But lying underneath all of that is an even more important prime directive—and that's to take charge at the drop of a hat. This Gala needs to transition into something else. It's not Twilight's fault for letting things go like this, and I'm not about to blame her. We just have to put the ball back into her court.

So, while preparing for a segue into a smoother beat, I glance to my left and wave wildly towards the next stage.

Octavia notices me in an instant. She always does. We make eye contact. I signal to her and point at the mare's cello. She nods back, and I see her muzzle mouthing a specific instrumental number.

I take a deep breath, adjusting the beat and modding the ambiance so that the crazy track cascades into a dull roar.

At the same time, Octavia stands up. All of the lights focus on her as she takes to the strings. Her velvet black roses shimmer before everypony. The audio input switches, and suddenly her cello is consuming the night, echoing across the crystalline hallways in mournful, provocative bass.

The tonal shift has its effect. The crowd stops jumping, turning to gawk and stare. I can tell by their faces that they are mesmerized. Their heartbeats carry them into the suite that Octavia has prepared. And just as she has them under her spell, she picks up the tempo and channels their adrenaline into another canal. One that's softer, more subdued—yet still excited and enticing.

The party is saved. At that rate, we could have run the entire crowd into an exhausted stupor. Thanks to Octavia, a second wind has been breathed into the Gala's lungs.

Recovering, I stare across the hall with shuddering lungs. In the ensuing lull that Octavia has provided, I spot Spike, Pinkie Pie, and Fluttershy wandering over to Twilight's side. Good. Looks like they too have caught wind of Twilight's melancholy. I gaze from afar as they exchange a few words. Pinkie and Fluttershy smile while Spike leans in to hug Twilight. The Princess sighs, her lips curving slightly as she strokes the back of the dragon's head. She exchanges a few words with her friends, and quiet nods are shared between them. Pinkie and Fluttershy lean in to nuzzle her, and a golden aura gathers around the group, chasing away all tan and gray.

At least for now.

Part of me wants to continue gazing... observing. But I'm a bit distracted at the moment.

Octavia's being a goddess, as usual.

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