• 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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Professional Things

Author's Note:

Thumping.

Thundering.

Thumping and thundering.

Through the bodacious bedlam, I hear Beau announcing the next movement of the session.

There are times when I wonder how I can do this...

How I can single out his amber yodeling across the seas of sonic shrieks.

I suppose when one familiarizes herself so regularly with a specific canvas of noise, everything else stands out.

Like the pink chirps from the couple in the corner who are very likely going back to their hotel to make passionate love to each other with these bass beats throbbing in the back of their minds.

Or the tan sighs of the loner in the back of the dance hall, regretting having come here alone and regretting twice as hard that there's no alcohol to drown her regrets in.

Or maybe even the crimson barks of the group to my far right. They've chosen this particular venue to have a heated argument about something. Already I hear the red hoofsteps of the bouncer, followed by his brown voice as he meatedly escorts them out of the premises.

That's when I know that I have to heat things up. I swirl the colors of the canvas, flinging some of the hues in Beau's direction. He notices it—he notices everything.

"Whoah! What's this?! Curve ball, fillies and gentlecolts! Swerve ball! DJ-P0N3 is taking us for a ride!"

And I do, spinning the discs of my turntable like propellor blades. I throw in samples of the latest pop culture hits, just to grab their attention. Then I toss a blanket of bass of their skulls to blind them. When they're nearly stumbling, I turn on the lights—hot strobes of red and gold. It's a brand new track. Beau shouts its, and the dance club lives it. There's not a drop of Dr. Pony in this entire building, but nopony could be the wiser. Everyone's bouncing off the walls, and I'm in charge of the kinetic psychosis, swinging the maelstrom left and right as I guide our cycloning path down a canyon of noise, only to douse itself in a trance ocean.

The club calms down, finding its chance to breath, and it is here that I catch them... that I embrace them with cool blues and enchanting violets. They are most soft and vulnerable right now, and I go easy on them. I nuzzle them back to the land of smiles, ushered by blue vocals and violet strings. They don't know where they are being taken to until they get there, and it is a place filled with sighs.

With a pulse of mana through my horn, I control the lightshow, and the colors coordinate. For a brief moment, the crowd sees what I see. It overwhelms them. Hypnotizes them. I can feel their anxiety growing, wafting into the air on yellow and brown streams. I follow the contours, I string the music along side. Everything rises, writhes, and rolls until it ruptures. A staccato beat slices its way through, the tempo growing faster, more frenetic. And when everyone is upon the precipice of a bursting heart, I drop them to the floor and they burst through to find diamonds.

Then the blue returns, surfing the waves with violet sails unfurled, and I know that I can claim this night as my own, signing my name on every eardrum.

And that is how—for the space of two hours—I almost... almost forget the pain of caffeine withdrawal in my head.

There will be no sleep tonight.

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