• 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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Giving Things

Author's Note:

"I promise you, Vinyl," Fluttershy says, her pink voice soothing—yet wavering. She swallows a lump in her throat and stands at length behind me. "I will see to it that she's comfortable here. She'll be well-fed, well-groomed, well-loved." A shuddering breath. I don't need to look to know how desperately she's attempting to smile. "It'll almost be as though the little kitten... never left."

I nod, listening to her. All the while, Scribbler pads across the wooden floor of Fluttershy's cottage. The tuxedo cat rubs up against my legs multiple times, pausing every now and then to stare—wide eyed—across the mysterious environment full of unique colors and smells. Her fur is tickling... torturing.

"Erm... I... I-I didn't mean for that to sound like it came out," Fluttershy suddenly stammers. "Scribbler looks so much healthier and fuller than when you and Tavi first adopted her. And... uhm... I'm sure that..." She gulps, her voice shaking even more. "...wherever you m-may be going, Vinyl, it's for a good reason. Please... please know that you've made Scribbler happy. You gave her a home... a life... a... a f-family..."

I lean over, squatting on all four legs. Scribbler—curious about the sudden gesture—moves in to sniff my muzzle with her tiny little nose. She raises a paw, claws tapping against the lens of my shade, and then she throws her whole tiny body against me with the softest of fur-rubs. I feel her tail lifting, tickling my nose, brushing past my ears.

"She will grow up to be a healthy cat. I promise you that, Vinyl. You... you don't have to worry one bit. Here in my cottage, she'll never run out of little animal friends to play games with. We even have a book night together..."

Scribbler strokes past me again. And something caves. I clench my eyes shut, shuddering. I reach both hooves out, scooping the feline closer. She protests once... maybe twice. Golden meows across an ocean of orange. I bury my nose in her, damming the tears. My mind is full of colors—all of them painted with the texture of velvet. This is it. This is my last taste of home. My last glimpse of Vinyl. The purple clings to Scribbler's tail. The violet leaps off her whiskers with tiny, wordless giggles.

I catch them all...

...and I give them back.

I release Scribbler, pet her confused, twitching ears... and stand up.

But before I can turn around... I am engulfed in a soft, feathery embrace.

I freeze in place, feeling as—next—Fluttershy's forelimbs encircle around me. I'm trapped in the softest, gentlest of hugs.

"Please, Vinyl... please hear me out," she murmurs into my shoulders. Her voice dips into an icy blue lake, and I realize she's holding me to keep from collapsing into sobs. "Whatever's happened to you and Tavi... whatever you m-might think you're going through right now..." A pink shudder. "You don't have to go through it alone. I heard about what happened at the hospital. The next thing I know, you... y-you resigned as royal minstrel." She stifles a whimper. "You have so much talent... so much grace. You're a j-joy to be around, Vinyl. I know you can't talk, and that must be incredibly difficult. Frustrating, even. Nevertheless... you can still speak to us... in your own way. You can share with us your feelings... even if it's just a frown... a sigh... even a sob. Please... don't do this on your own. Whatever you're doing, wherever you're going... reconsider. You have friends here in Ponyville who care very much for you. Listen to them... let us in. It's... it's what Octavia would have wanted, I'm sure."

With a calm breath, I reach back...

...and pry her limbs off of me.

She shudders, eyes wet.

I turn around, holding her forelimbs, gazing at her somber expression. With a magenta breath, I pat her fetlocks... then lower them to the floor.

"Vinyl, I..." Fluttershy bites her lip. Then, closing her eyes, she sniffles and hangs her head. "I will t-take care of Scribbler for you. I swear on my life."

That makes the two of us.

I nod. I shuffle past her. I reach the door.

Behind me, there's a shuffle... a brief and panicked scrape of claws. I hear soft, pitter-pattering steps, followed by tiny song.

The cottage door closes, cutting off the orange.

And I walk.

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