• 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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Galvanizing Things

Author's Note:

"For our last act, as promised, we would like to treat you to a duet." The last few words dip into fractured indigo, and I can feel Tavi squirming from the opposite end of the stage. "Erm... well... eheh." A bolt of violet, and she smiles sheepishly towards the royal crowd seated before us. "I suppose calling this a 'duet' would be pushing it. In truth, it's... quite unlike anything else in the music industry, or at least anything the two of us have personally witnessed."

"Well, now if that isn't a riveting introduction!" Twilight Sparkle speaks, her gray voice shining as much as her eyes. For an Equestrian Princess, she can certainly broadcast foalish levels of pure adoracute. "And judging from your already stellar auditions, I'm certainly intrigued."

"I, for one, would like to see how the two of you combine your... erm... eclectic talents," Rarity says, leaning forward in her chair with genuine interest. "Because if the 'dropping of the bass' drowns out the heavenly cello strings... hrmmggghh... I swear..."

"Fear not, ma'am!" Tavi points with her bowstring, smiling. "Vinyl and I have practiced this sort of thing quite a lot. It comes naturally from... well... rooming with one another, sharing a studio, being exposed to one another's musical influences." She grins, her bright eyes reflecting the same mirth as her elegant bow tie. "Our first dual performance in public was at the wedding of Cranky and Matilda, as a matter of fact! I'd say that the audience was rather warm to our stylistic overtones." She glances at me in my booth. "Isn't that right, love?"

Before I can say anything—

"Awwwww..." Fluttershy coos, her voice like a sonic pink wave soaring straight to the face. "You two are adorable."

I blink at that. Within the next empty space of thought, I feel myself drowning in the blackness that holds this crystalline structure together over our heads.

"Just play the dang number already!" Rainbow groans, adding arrows to the darkness. "Dang..." Applejack's guffaw sprinkles a tiny bit of color to the room.

It's enough to wake me to Octavia's whispering voice. "Vine!" She stabs my ears with purple pellets. I do a double-take, glancing at her. I see that she's standing up against her cello, preparing to make the first note. "This is no time for dawdling! Stiff upper lip, darling! It's now or never!"

I nod nervously, composing myself with a swift swim through her violet tone. Reaching out, I grip one record and prepare a silent beat.

Octavia begins with gentle, swaying undulations of her bass strings. She hits the higher notes, deceiving the crowd into thinking that the upcoming number is going to be a slow, melancholic ballad at best.

It's about half-a-movement in that I hit a switch, making my beat audible to the crowd, matching Tavi's masterful tempo, slowly rising with her as we drag the curious, gaping ponies towards the surface of something they've never tasted before.

Another switch. I add snares to the beat, slapping them manually on my sound board. I ready the second record, keeping one ear trained to the birthing track and the other stuffed-full of Octavia's sonic velvet.

Suddenly, the fabric ripples, and those bass strings go deeper, more ardent, flooding the room with erratic waves of indigo. I keep up with the beat, manually, sweating. With a nervous biting of the lip, I glance Tavi's way.

She squints one eye open—something she rarely ever does while playing. My sessions are full of color and controlled chaos. Hers are always a blind drift across placid rivers of liquid symphony. But for this one moment, our eyes connect. We bridge the gap, join our muses in delicious fusion.

We take a breath as the strings take a breath.

And wham I thrust the second track into explosive kaleidoscopia. The record scratch is deliberate, daring, and—above all else—brief. Octavia's strings dip back into action, saving the symphony—just like she's saved my life—and together we leap forward into a musical overture, riding this second chance past the bastions of the Princess' comprehend.

And with looping salvos of epic sound, we proceed to blow her and her friends' minds.

Octavia's strings take on frenzied loops, shredding up and down the bass fiddle with wild abandon. I stable the edges in place with trance chimes and microtonal shifts, constantly opening gaps in the air so that Octavia can launch her cannonballs of cadence through, landing in violet splashes across everypony's ears. I see them exhale in sudden shudders, and the colors are stained with purple.

It's working.

By the third movement, I've taken charge, with Octavi's lulling strings occupying the background. We shift around each other, screaming around street corners made out of snares and synthesized cymbals. By the time that I've passed it back to her, we're now occupying the same volume of orgasmic earspace, throwing all we've got to the bowers of this lofty castle. And beneath it all, a fine rippling carpet of velvet, pooling up and around the mares' dumbfounded grins.

It's working.

I smile, but I have to keep my composure. I raise a hoof into the violet bands rippling overhead. One yanks me like a bungie cord. I twirl with it, then slap my hoof down, ending the epic track on the prolonged groan of a synthetic brass gong, and Octavia smoothes the brash exit with lulling strings, ushering the silence back so it could giggle gleefully at the lingering tinnitus.

But it doesn't linger for long, for soon the opposite end of the hall is awash in red cacophony.

I look towards Tavi and she looks towards me.

"See, Vine?" She salutes with her bowstring. "Applause."

I struggle not to giggle, or else I might collapse. I don't know what tickles me more, the fact that I do see, or the fact that she already knows it.

Only Tavi...

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