• 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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Conjuring Things

Author's Note:

"Ooooh...!" A felicitous bubble of indigo floats my way, then bursts with purple trails. "That's a new one, isn't it?"

I nod. I hear her, and yet I don't. I'm hunched over my turntable, frenziedly and persistently blurring my hooves across the console. The speakers crackle with the building blocks of a brand new track. I throw in samples, remove them, splice them, slow and speed them up, and gradually work towards building a new masterpiece. In repetitious fashion, the infantile techno piece grows from a seed, reaching about fifteen seconds before stumbling, lurching, then repeating. All the while, I struggle to segue it into a new movement, slowly creating a cohesively competent piece. I can only imagine how annoyingly repetitious it must sound to somepony else's ear.

Thankfully, Octavia is a great deal better than that.

"Those are some lovely samples you're utilizing, love." Her purple eyes narrow in my peripheral vision, and that's how I realize how closely she's standing to me. "That is the right term, yes? 'Samples?'"

I reply with yet another vague nod. Licking my lips, I drag another sample over from one track and fuse it with this one. I change the pitch, morph it, and then exhale with relief as it creates a bridge to another movement. I make sure it matches the beat, then work on integrating another record's track into the overlay.

"Hmmm..." Octavia squats in the starlight outside our apartment's windows. "...I'm trying to put my hoof on that... that voice." Her fuzzy muzzle scrunches. "It sounds dreadfully familiar. I mean that in a good way, of course. Sounds... almost like a child. Quite innocent and darling. This is a new medium for you, is it not?"

I shrug, sweating slightly as I fish through the other record for a good melody to fuse with this blossoming thing I've created. Having Tavi nearby is a blessing, of course, but sometimes when there's work to be done...

"You know, I feel the need to protest..."

My heart jolts. I briefly lose my concentration. My eyes dart towards her through the shades—and she knows it.

"What... with you sitting so uncomfortably in your wheelchair. It simply can't be putting any good pressure on your dear leg. Besides..." She tilts her head to the side. "...when was the last time you showered, love?"

I squirm in my seat, biting my lip. Can she really be serious? I'm... I'm so close to achieving something here, and...

The purple from her voice dissipates, and I see a smug grin. I want to hug her and punch her all the same.

"Then I realize..." She smiles. "...that exercising your musical talents truly is the best medicine for you, isn't it, Vine?"

I gaze at her. I smile awkwardly.

She pats my turntable and shuffles off with a dainty swish of her tail. "Do put your headphones on soon, dear. I think some shuteye is in order. For me, of course." Her voice ripples from the other room on purple streams. "Remember, tomorrow is our first scheduled rehearsal for Her Majesty."

I wince. Ah jeez... is that tomorrow already?

Goddess, how time flies...

"If you're unable to attend, I'm certain they will understand. But I know you, Vine. If you channel the same enthusiasm into tomorrow as you're focusing on that project right now... then not even an uncomfortable wheelchair can stop you."

I blink at the dim confines of our apartment. With a deep breath, I nod, then return to my work. I switch the audio channels to my headphones and hold one of the plastic clamshells up to my right ear.

She's right.

I've never felt more ready.

I spin the record and comb it for more samples.

However, one masterpiece at a time...

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