• 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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Daily Things

Author's Note:

"Well, that was... wonderfully pleasant," Octavia's violet voice drips off the melting sunset. I relish the crisp air while my roommate pushes me in the wheelchair across Ponyville. "I daresay we made those sisters' day. Or their very week, for that matter?"

I nod absent-mindedly. My day is still swimming with purples and blues. A thought occurs to me that I haven't had a bottle of Dr. Pony to drink in several hours, and then I let that thought flutter off into the wind, lost to the green hum of the settling world.

Across the way, two ponies are trotting down the sidewalk. I instantly recognize them as members of the Harvest family—Applejack's rural neighbors. Upon glancing our way, both farmers wave and smile.

Octavia waves back before I can. I feel my insides curling in on themselves, for a curious thought ripples through my aching mind. There is something strangely delicious about being seen like this. It's not that I take any pride in my lower leg being in disrepair. But at least—for better or for worse—everypony sees and knows who my best friend is. It's a strangely toasty feeling, and the air fills with orange mirth, even though Scribbler is hundreds of feet away.

I sigh, leaning back in my moving seat and closing my eyes. I allow the moment to happen, carried aloft on violet sails.

"I do hope we weren't being too forward," she says. "After all, that was a rather conspiratorial way of getting Rarity to listen to her little sister's exquisite voice. True, it all worked out in the end, but still." Octavia sniffs. I can envision her adjusting her bow-tie without looking. Her other hoof rests against the back of my wheelchair as she pushes me around an intersection, mindful of a few straggling wagons while crossing. "Sometimes, as artists, I feel that we allow creative hubris to take control... maybe too much control."

I arch an eyebrow, glancing up through my shades at her fuzzy chin.

"And it wouldn't be right for us to take advantage of Rarity's generosity. She is—after all—smitten with you."

I let loose a magenta snicker.

"Platonically speaking, of course." And Octavia's voice dips back into purple. "Still, I suppose it is worth it to see Sweetie Belle realize her dreams more. Her musical dreams, that is. I spoke with Rarity momentarily before we left. She's given us her blessing to let Sweetie Belle show up at the apartment and record more. Maybe we can even put together a little record for her! That should make her parents proud! Assuming they're on board as well."

I nod, watching as our house appears in the distance. A tuxedo feline rests in the window. Its ears perk up on spotting our arriving figures, and it darts off in the direction of the front door.

"I have grown rather attached to the filly," Octavia admits, her voice taking on an indigo hue. "So nice to have an innocent soul around that you can teach... mentor." She takes a deep breath. "Sometimes... I think it would be heavenly to skip the whole courtship and marriage part and go straight to foal-raising."

I open my muzzle... why? To say something? That would knock me out?

And yet my mouth hangs open, and I flinch slightly.

"But... that's just me giving in to the whimsy of the moment, I suppose," she drones. "It truly had been a glorious day." Octavia sniffs. "A shame we won't be seeing the little filly that much anymore."

I blink, then tilt my head to gaze curiously at her.

"Why, you haven't forgotten, Vine! Have you?" Octavia smirks. "Assuming Nurse Redheart gives you a clean bill of health tomorrow, you'll be trotting evenly on all fours again! No need for a wheelchair anymore!"

I gaze ahead at the front door to our apartment as we approach it. I exhale with cold red realization.

"Things will be like normal again," Octavia murmurs, her purple voice ushering in the veil of evening. She fumbles for the keys and unlocks the doors. "I mean, in addition to us being royal minstrels, of course."

Of course.

"At least you'll be able to do your regular afternoon walks again," she says with a smile. "You do so love those."

I nod with a quiet sigh... and an even calmer smile.

She's right. I do.

Among other things.

She opens the door, and we are both bathed in delicous orange.

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