Someone Like You
If Octavia were a pegasus, the wind would be blaring in her ears like an ensemble cresting on a crescendo in an opera house. Fortunately, she wasn't a pegasus. The only noise that welcomed her was quiet mixed with emptiness that tickled her eardrums as she sat at the table set for herself in her apartment.
Her ensemble had the day off today to recover from their last night's performance. That night was a cocktail filled to the brim with ponies of Canterlot and those who were visiting. Canterlot had the snootiest of the snooty, but they were not all like that. Ponies of all kinds could dabble in the classical. She just so happened to get poshly remarked in those halls and while she could put up the facade with her bow tie adjusted rightly, she liked to be a casual mare in her own time, mostly when moving between hotels and stations, dressed in loose garb that didn't pinch at her skin.
That same loose clothing hugged her form. A white tee she had in her suitcase. Her makeup from last night hadn’t wore off (she didn’t know how, must've been magic or something unexplainable). A vase she had on her kitchenette countertop now sat in front of her, where she dined. A croissant on a plate pervaded a fluffy warmth just below her in-hoof cup of tea, its steam filling her nostrils. That warmth sent goosebumps to war with her own nerves. She took a sip, letting the delicious drink entice her with its sweetness. She licked her lips and cast her gaze out the window.
Skyward were Equestrian’s major cities. Her new-ish apartment (she kept calling it new, yet it was not, she had only been in it a few times) was on the tenth floor of a towering monument of Manehatten. She had moved here after feeling a bit too tepid in Ponyville. No, it was not Vinyl’s fault. They are still the best of friends, writing letters back and forth in a somewhat bi-weekly frenzy while attempting (and horribly failing) at scheduling time to meet among the never-ending scheduled performances. Octavia had been... lost. Rather confused. She needed time to herself to recoop, understand where her hooves truly lay. Thankfully, her music kept her stable, and the ensemble did pay well enough to let her find lodging in Manehatten. It was much closer to where her ensemble would practice when not on tour. Maybe that's the second largest reason (trailing behind her loss of self) why she left Ponyville. Being in a place where she had to take a train ride and a half to simply meet with her ensemble made it hard for her to get rest.
So, here she was, in her new-ish apartment, staring at a skyscraper that was adjacent to hers.
Octavia sighed and took another generous sip, before setting her tea on a small porcelain plate. She picked up her little fluff of bread, clutching it in her hooves, and nibbling into it further. The crunching of the bread could be heard, and she smiled as she chewed and chewed while the sounds of a bustling city played among and between her bites. She could hear those hoofsteps clip-clopping against concrete. Some chatter raised a cacophony of noise, while wagons traversed the paved roads for those who had hitched a ride. Doorbells rang every time a new pony entered a business. She could imagine some of them: a bakery with donuts and baguettes ready to purchase, freshly made; a restaurant touting themselves as five-stars with waiters and waitresses handling customers' orders in an attempt to ensure their stay was as best as they could make it; a boutique with all the glitter and glam designed in their attire while fanciful music flirted with hypotheticals; and many, many more, and all they could make Octavia do was drift, drone about what could be there while her mind tittered on her cello's condition, leaving her to wonder if the strings on it needed to be replaced, or if they would keep up with the hoofsteps of the others. Chords interweaved in her mind, played so eloquently, blocking out that city life with a song she held close to her heart.
Her forehooves started dancing, pulling each imaginary string she had of her invisible cello. One hoof still held the croissant carefully, but the other was free to roam. Her body moved to and fro as she played, chaotically, but also softly. Each string plucked its way into the whirlwind of her emotions. She closed her eyes and let herself go.
…
“Whoa…”
Octavia opened her eyes. She froze, mid-pluck, and craned her head to the voice that put her emotions on pause.
It was her roommate. His name was Anon. He was paired with her after his landlord demanded him to get a roomie that had some class (or, in this case, could help him handle the rent, as he was almost about to get kicked out). Naturally or unnaturally, Anon asked her, desperately, pleading with her to say yes. Apparently many ponies had taken a look at the apartment and while some were interested, none of them had committed to the price. This had left Octavia to possibly save him from sure destruction, which, while it wasn't an obligation she was tied to, she had some sympathy lingering in her heart. Not to mention since she didn’t really see any other options that enticed her to pull the magical trigger known as ‘getting a bill’, she had asked the landlord to give her a tour. Safe to say, the tour had stayed short.
At the time, Anon’s apartment looked like a pigsty. Messy, yet somewhat 'organized', if she were even able to call it that. Piles of all sorts were in front of her and the landlord. She didn’t know how to identify each one. Some of them were indiscernible, but apparently there was a method to the madness. Pizza boxes mixed with plastic spoons and bowls meant a trip to a to-go speciality restaurant. Books, papers, notepads; they all represented study of some kind. A pizza box with a controller though; that meant some type of crossover happened, one with logic well beyond her comprehension would permit. She didn't want to know anyway. Her mind had been made up. A disorganized slob was asking her to save his alien hiney from a bout of homelessness.
So, she turned to the landlord, and with a smirk, announced her commitment. It was high time to fix him.
She accepted the course of action. And since then, while she paid the rent, Anon kept the place clean. That was their terms and conditions, which Anon committed to. They talked sparingly, making sure the other was okay, and that the bills were paid. She wasn't bailing the man out without him committing some bits to the place too, and he did commit some. Many, in fact.
And that was their relationship. She was never home really, touring kept her on the move and money in her saddlebags. Now that she had time to herself…
…she decided to enjoy her apartment for once.
“You’re home.”
Octavia hummed as she saw Anon step through the threshold. “I am.”
Curt. Just how she responded to those she didn’t know, but still knew of. She set her croissant aside and picked up her tea again. It was still warm, thankfully, and she took a sip to remind her of such.
It tickled her spine as she heard Anon’s voice again. “Breakfast?”
“Yes,” she murmured. She felt her ears perk up. “You… still work delivery?”
“The Equestrian’s version of Doordash, but yeah,” he said. She spared a glance at him, spying him scratching his neck as he set down his carry-on bag. “Late night shift. Egh.”
“You do know you could do it during the day…”
Her sensible comment fell on deaf ears. He had already flicked off his shoes, put his delivery hat on a hook on the wall (it was some cap he thought looked cool; it was rather drab delicately put, but garage sales ‘held the keys to treasure’ in his eyes, which was said to him on her... first day... yes, the first day she had spoken with him), and stumbled into their shared bathroom. She didn’t have many toiletries in there, if any. She carried hers in a bag, not in her case. That was reserved only for her cello.
She rolled her eyes, shifting in her seat. What a silly man.
“Oh, sorry!” He sorta talk-shouted. His head peeked around the corner. “I’m taking a shower. I’ll be out in a few, okay?”
She giggled lightly. “Take your time.”
He snorted before his head disappeared around the corner. A chaotic forceful click of the door reverberated in her ears. Then, the shuffling of his ‘feet’ drummed into a flick of the curtains. She could even hear him stumble into their walk in shower, fumble with the knob, and he—“Ah! Cold!”—got hit with a burst of jetted water. She chuckled and shook her head. She tuned him out and took another sip of her tea.
She could wait. She could wait for him to take his time. She had nowhere to go. A day to spend all on her own.
That’s all she needed to make him notice her, right?
…
That thought made her muzzle scrunch up. Where did that come from? That thought never crossed her mind before! It tickled her inner twine, her hairs standing up on end, even the ones in her mane.
She sniffed the air. It wasn’t tainted by Anon’s presence. Sure, he smelled like a night of food deliveries, possible angst, and a tinge of sadness, but that wasn’t her smell. No, she made sure to lay the scent thick, her natural mixing with a shampoo she bought in Canterlot before she left. Like daylilies flirting with a sunflower patch. That’s what it had said on the bottle. She smelled herself. More like a sunflower than a daylily. Either that or her memory served her less and less.
See, the insides of an opera house was what she was in-tune with, not the grass she was supposed to lay on when she could relax in a park (it was a dream to do that). Tea was close to her, the mint leaves intermixing in the brew. Tea made her feel warm just like the music halls, filled to the brim with plucked strings, loud brass, fluttering flutes, and delightful piano keys. Tea reminded her of how her world worked, why she even stayed in her ensemble: finding like minded musicians brimming with the shared passion of playing classical music. Tea reminded her of the strings she played as the liquid filled her, warming her core. She could tackle anything if its nutrients were in her bloodstream.
And yet, here she was, getting jumpscared by Anon’s late entry in their shared apartment.
The human.
What a—
The squeak of the nozzle stopped the waterfall in the room next to her. She let one ear stay up, alert, hearing the sounds of a towel wiping against the wall. She snickered.
Octavia set her tea down and nibbled a bit more on that croissant of hers. It disappeared into her mouth, making her take another sip of her tea.
The amount of time it had taken to do that, Anon had already cleaned the shower walls and took care of throwing on his clothes and himself (in that order). She surmised there might be some other things involved in his routine, but she didn’t know them, not well. All she had gathered was a moment of delirium before the door to the bathroom swung open. It clacked against a cabinet door nearby, probably one where he stored all of his necessities.
She snorted as she saw Anon dart around the corner.
“It’s good to see you, Octavia.”
His hair was still wet.
“It’s good to see you too, Anon.”
There were marks where the water soaked into his plain yet bright blue tee.
“You… staying around?”
“For today, yes,” she mused. A few stray dollops of water held onto his skin. She saw his face and let out a whinny. “Did you even dry yourself off?”
“Sorry. Had to catch you before you left again.”
Before you left again…
Those words plucked at her heartstrings.
Octavia felt her lips tug at the seams, sagging down. Her ears splayed against her head. “You don’t need to apologize. I know it’s mostly my fault.” She hung her head. “Our schedules clash so much that we never get to see—eep!”
He stopped her train of thought by hugging her rather unceremoniously. She squeaked as Anon’s shirt mingled with hers. The end of her mane bristled against his neck. His wet hair collided with her dry mane. His arms wrapped around her midsection, letting those water droplets seep into her shirt. Yet, even with the wetness, warmness resided. A subtle warmth, one that she didn't know how to keep, only that he kept her close, tightening their embrace.
It was different to be held like this. To be latched onto so needily enough to forgo basic hygiene in a fashion that felt healthy, but also not. She sneered that negativity, mentally, like a critique of her music, whenever a string felt off, plucked off-sync. She lavished in this melody, this unfamiliarity in its keystrokes. It was something to break the monotony of her daily life. It was unexpected, yet not unwelcome. That’s what she wanted in this day off of hers, right?
She didn't know. She didn't know as she leaned a bit closer to him instead. She could hear his heartbeat: slow yet galloping at a pace she didn't understand. Almost like hers—oh wait, that gallop was her heartbeat, his was normal. Hers was brewing in her chest. She hoped she’ll match his, a slow timbre. A calm breeze. Peaceful. Delightful.
That tea would make it hard for her to meet his pace, though. An energizer and all that—
She shook her head. Her thoughts grazed in a field of elation so much that she didn’t notice Anon had pulled away. He was looking at her with his hands up, his mouth jumbling words together.
“O-Oh—sorry. I... shouldn’t have hugged you out like that.”
His gaze was full of concern, his fingers playing with themselves. A tick, possibly?
She waved a hoof toward him. “No, it’s okay. Why did you hug me?"
His lips curled upward. "I wanted to thank you."
"You… wanted to thank me?”
“Yeah… I should’ve said it though.”
She laughed. “You could’ve but I’m not against what you did.”
“You aren’t?”
Her ears perked up. Her lips did too, the tea's taste still gracing her maw. She felt happy, warm, not only because of her morning drink, not because of her day off, but because, for once, she felt wanted. A stallion didn’t hug you like that, Octavia. Not even her ensemble did that. Even the touchy-feely types avoided hugs in most public settings. Yet, this was private, with somepon—er, someone she only met a hoofful amount of times. Was it wrong to question it? No, probably not. But the feeling was questionable, for several reasons that she was too fickle to carry out in detail. She wanted to understand the calamity that was her roommate. Not consider the hugs from others.
Maybe she needed to get a hug more often. That would resolve her confusion, right?
“You could dry yourself off before—” She was going to finish her thought, but he had gasped and ran back into the bathroom. A bit of shuffling later, and he came out a bit more dry. His hair was combed but still had that wet look to her. His arms weren’t covered with droplets, though.
It’ll do.
She scooted out her seat and turned it to face him. “Now that you’re more presentable, could you…” She spread out her forelegs. “Could you… do it again?”
Wordlessly, he walked over to her, gave her a smile and hugged her tenderly. No water this time, but the droplets remained soaked in his shirt. She could feel his presence ensnare her, not aggressively, but captured her enough to feel comfortable in his embrace.
“Never received a hug?”
She let out an airy laugh. “Not like what you do, Anon.” She returned it, softly, weakly, her forehooves trying to round him and connect like his hands did around her. Hooves didn’t work like that, just short of connecting.
She nuzzled into his chest and pulled back to see his reaction.
His face was scarlet now, cheeks abiding the most. “Forgot y-you ponies nuzzle.”
“It’s part of the package,” she replied. “Welcome home.”
“I should be saying that to you.” His voice was laced with warmth. Just like her tea. His hands scooted up closer to her head to pull her closer.
She nuzzled him for his troubles. “You still can.”
“Okay…” He cleared his throat. “Welcome home, Octavia.”
Those words felt like velvet to her.
“Thank you.”
And nothing else needed to be said. The two kept their embrace for a moment longer, before Octavia pulled away and told her that his bloodshot eyes could use some work. He was going to retort but his yawn had punctuated his contrast to stay awake, but she knew if he stayed up any longer, he would probably sleep standing up. So, she told him to take a nap in his room, it might help him.
“Then wake me up in thirty minutes.”
She tilted her head. “Are you sure?”
He nodded and patted her mane. “If this is your day off, then I’m spending it to finally get to know the pony who saved me from being homeless.”
“Sounds good…” she wistfully replied, her voice flirting with an octave lower than her usual. She hummed as he left, clambering into the hallway to her left, where their rooms were separated but connected. She let out a chuckle, before turning back to the window.
Outside was the world she already knew.
Inside was one she was going to learn more about.
…
She couldn’t wait for those thirty minutes to pass her by.
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Pretty good!
The story had an atmosphere of awkwardness to it.
Couldn't tell ifthat was because [of] Octavia['s] feltthat way (which would beexcellent characterization on your part)or if it was simple literaryclunk.Honestly, it might be a bit of both.12013479
It was literally her feeling that way. Also if there's any grammar issues, let me know in a private message.
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The speed of your response gave me whiplash!
Okay, though I still think some of the sentence structure could be improved.The dialogue and prose was great for setting the tone
but some of the descriptions early on felt a bit clunky to me. That's what gave me pause.Edit: He fixed !
Would love to see this develop, a story of simple pleasures in a strict complicated world. But leaving it open ended works too.
A great fuzzy little story that I enjoyed either way.
I liked the part where the green man hugged the British horse.
I don't think I would mind seeing a couple more entries in this slice of life style, so as long as the focus remains consistent on these two.
I would like more of this please.
Gonna read this now!
https://youtube.com/live/7Zu9fK4vR_k?feature=share
Gonna use my legs...gonna use my other legs
Wtf, this was great and fluffy and real in so many ways, how dare.
For real though, you said you weren't confident on your characterization of Octavia here and I just cannot see why that would be the case (cue autistic rambling about best earth pony). I could actually be gushing about your characterization of her here all day, I swear, and why the entire slow burn build up before Anon appeared was perfect to drive this home. Octavia feels more at home at the opera house than at home, so much than silence feels almost deafening to her. She is so used to it she is only capable of finding peace and tranquility only in the busiest places, as exemplified by the noisy street and city she lives in, it's literally music to her ears. Probably why she was not put off by the initial state of Anon's house (I find it hilarious how her organized nature got the best of her to the point of wanting to fix him, lol). She seems unable to properly correlate calm and just settling down due to her busy lifestyle, lifestyle which at the same time makes her fleeting, from her friend Vinyl, and from a roommate she barely even knows. Its just perfect that she wanted to be held back in place, for once, and be soothed with the sound of a beating heart of hers, and to actually feel like at home for once as well, too.
And this is without mentioning the other minor small touches, how despite the society she mostly inhabits, she is ground to earth, lenient and flexible in her expectations but with still some snottiness in her, enough to make her endearing but not too much to make her a complete snob as other stories like to portray her as. All of the previous, as someone else points out, makes her kinda socially awkward when taken out of her element, a very humanizing touch. She's just brimming with personality in this story. I also love the sensory focus on what she can hear on everything she notices too, it's an amazing touch to her character and contributes greatly to the atmosphere.
Symbolisms, beautiful and evocative language aside, which would make for quite long comments for themselves, I consider this to be Octavia at her best.
Thus, this fic passes the Tavi vibe check. Now give me more.
its so good
Waited for a day to pass to post my response to all the comments I received (with the exception of Bromeister due to the grammar issues he pointed out). To start, thank you everyone who has given this story a read, a track/favorite, left a comment, etc. Always love engagement like this.
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Hope this reply doesn't give you a sense of whiplash now that it's the next day. Thank you again for your help with fixing some of the goofs that happened in the story.
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I have an idea on how to continue it for at least another chapter, but I'm not sure if I could go beyond that. It'll still leave it open-ended a tad, but would allow you all to at least get one more chapter of this Octavia, so you might see one more chapter in the near future.
Also ForlanceAbice, glad to see you're still around! I remember you from the old Soaring account.
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Thank you for the live read! Happy you enjoyed the fic.
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I am graced by the guy who writes the Courier x Cherry Berry epic. This is what writing on Fimfic is all about.
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I have been certified by the two biggest Octavia fans on the site. I am positively glowing right now. Thank you both.
As for your feedback Smokin, thank you for dismissing my worry outright with this comment. I definitely will have to dabble a bit more with what I have in mind, then. Think this proves to myself that I've grown quite a bit as an author. Not that there hasn't been other comments on my stories that echo similar sentiments of growth but it's always good to see that crop up now and again as a reminder that yeah, I no longer am stuck in the struggle bubble. Now it's time to really put my writing to the test. Thank you.
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Yes.
Me on my way to play screechy violin right outside:
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i.ibb.co/m9bwvCn/nibbl2.png
This was extremely lovely, and I loved how you characterized Octavia and her want for something more casual.
I would be extremely interested in a continuation in either multiple chapters or just multiple one shots surrounding her ‘days off’ in a sense
Sometimes, life really is about just appreciating the small things...
Ooo I like this a lot. Octavia is always a fun character to read about and having her as a roommate must be top class.
Audio adaption coming in soon I hope you enjoy it
Damn, this stayed on the featured box for a looooooong time! Excellent work!
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Excellent use of Tavi. Upper-crust but not the total snob some writers make her out to be. Sometimes authors forget, at her heart, she is an earthpony, and is a little more laid back and open. I love the British (Braytish?) nod with her tea—cheerio!
And I must agree with Clear Shivers’ suggestion of having a “Tavi’s Days Off” narrative to her and Anon working out their feelings (and challenges, I hope) for one another—it doesn't have to be quite so linear, gives you nice “time padding” to let their brewing relationship steep nicely.
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Going to be doing another chapter of this for sure. Currently at 3k words but going to add more into it before I post it.
As for another sequel in the future, if there's interest, I'll definitely throw down as long as I have some ideas on how she can spend her days off. Although, it might clash with my other fics as I do have a couple of fics with that naming convention. I'll have to play around with some titling.
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I'm surprised you recognize me, but I might have comment on one or two of your stories in the past. Can't tell what though, since the prior account you have has been purged.
I don't hang around the fandom much these days, mostly due waning interest in how the show panned out and the all the fan material following in its footsteps. I mostly write for the Pokemon fandom now, with a couple unpublished works featuring Gilda and Roseluck in a time where the very concept of Gryphonstone never was. It's nice to find a few new fics that harkens back to the older days of the fandom in terms of its content being neutral. I must admit, it's hard to maintain interest when one's opinion is so contrary to the masses, but you manage to find something every now and then that peaks your interest like with your fic.
It's conceited, but I appreciate she is just simply "Octavia". Not with any add on names or the like that so subtlety tweak but alter her character in such a noticeable way, at least for me. No worries about what's happening elsewhere, no need for the stuff of that nature to intrude. Just Octavia, and Anon. Even if this is the only work you'll have of them for the time being, I appreciate it nonetheless.
If you don't mind telling, which of your works did I comment on? I'm afraid my memory of our interaction is zero without context.
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A Slave's Freedom and M235 I believe. I have both of them on my profile now but will be working on them both after my Starlight fic is done.
And hey everyone's interests waxes and wanes sometimes. That's how life works. Just glad to see you're still around!
I will be updating this fic soon actually. Word count is at 6k for the chapter itself. Giving it to a couple of pre-readers just to make sure Octavia and Anon are balanced.