Life is an Unwritten Book

by Revenant Wings

Act II - Part 5

Previous Chapter

Amalthea returned home a few hours later to find Written still in his writing room, staring out the window.  The blinds were wide open and Written sat unmoving.  A half a cup of coffee with cream and sugar sat on the table, and there were a few lines that appeared to be an unfinished poem.  A magazine was in front of Written, though he appeared to have no interest in it.

“Written, I’m home,” Amalthea called out to him.  “I brought you a chocolate donut.  Your favorite.”

Written turned slightly towards Amalthea.  For a moment, he merely scanned a single eye over her.  “Put it in the fridge,” he said impassively.  “I’ll have it later tonight.”  Then he turned back towards the window.

Amalthea did so but returned to the writing room immediately.  “Is there something wrong?  You normally aren’t so quiet.”

Written Script didn’t change his view or emotion.  “I found my review today.”

“Oh?  The review for the short story collection?  What did they say?”  When Written didn’t respond, she gasped.  “They hated it?”

“No.  The review was nothing but praise.  The journal worked once again.”

“Then why are you so withdrawn?”

Written Script seemingly stared harder out the window.  Amalthea walked over and tried to see what Written was looking at.  She was treated to a view of Metal Quill, a few adoring fans around him but most seemed to be looking at copies of Canterlot Quarterly.  The ponies who were looking were talking excitedly and pointing at the open pages eagerly.

“Metal Quill suspects that I somehow bribed the journal.”

“Bribed them?” Amalthea asked in disbelief.  “Even if that was the case, what would it matter?  Final Draft told me that happens all the time in the publishing industry; the best space goes to the highest bidder.”

“But there were two things that stood out to him.  Firstly was that his own review was pushed off that main page and I got top billing instead.  Secondly was that it was done by A.K. Yearling.”

“The author of the Daring Do series?  ‘Tis a high honor.  No wonder he is jealous.”

“I would be, too, if placed in his position.”

“So what is it that causes you to sulk while staring out a window?”

“The fact that his review was pushed back to the dregs ended up being a shot at his ego.  Which he threatened to pay back to me if he ever found out I was influencing the reviews.”

Amalthea realized that the journal itself was out.  “You could erase his memory of the incident.”

“That won’t be so simple.  A mere glance at the printed page will reignite the feelings inside.  I could wipe his mind of it, but then he would see his review in the back and mine in the lead and it will return.  And I don’t have the heart to do so either.”

“So, what do you suppose?  Stop using the journal?”

“If he continues being antagonistic, he will force my hand to continue writing.  For now, I have to be more careful.”

It wasn’t so easy to be careful, though.  When Written Script and Amalthea were next touring the market, many ponies came up to Written singing his praises, including some that had formerly abandoned his party for the mere appearance of Metal Quill.  The review was mentioned among almost everyone, while others were seeing ads for his short story collection in the paper and in the bookstore.

Metal Quill was seen infrequently after his appearance at Written’s house, so the unicorn decided it was safe to venture out and socialize.  In the mornings when Amalthea was off at work, Written would leave his home and head to some of the common meeting spots – near the town hall, at the library, or in the marketplace.  Ponies approached him with magazines they were buying from the nearby stores and, hardly a day after his book was released, started asking him to sign the short story collection.  Written signed them for free and even took pictures with those that asked.  It got to the point where Written decided to hold a signing event – with Final Draft’s permission – at the town hall.  Books were sold and ponies came to have the author sign their copies, and Written managed to maintain a smile and a warm personality throughout; with Metal Quill hiding, he wasn’t afraid.

Written’s popularity spread like wildfire; he was nicer than Metal Quill and had the talent to match.  It wasn’t long before the residents of Ponyville had forgotten Metal Quill even though he was heading off to the first of his own signing events in Manehattan.  Word spread throughout Ponyville of the rave review by A.K. Yearling, and Written’s book sold out its first week in the store.  It wasn’t long before those residents started telling their families and sales started trickling in from other towns.

The schedule negatively affected Written’s life with Amalthea.  When he returned home shortly before Amalthea, Written was tired out from the social events he found himself hosting or attending.  Dinner was spent in quiet and there was some time for relaxing before they went to bed, only without the added pleasure that Amalthea would give him.

They lay in bed one evening with the window open.  Amalthea had been bugging Written for the last ten minutes, while Written had only obliged her so much as to face towards her; his eyes were closed and he resisted her pushing.

“Come on!” Amalthea whined.  “I’m feeling a little playful tonight.”

“I don’t want to,” Written mumbled from his pillow.

Amalthea pouted.  “Oh, but you always wanted to a week ago.”

“And maybe tomorrow I’ll want to again,” Written replied.  “But not tonight.”

Amalthea’s pout turned into a frown.  “You’ve said that every night for the past week.”

“I’m sorry,” Written said, managing to open a single heavy eye.  “I’ve had so many ponies lately come up and ask me about the book.”

Amalthea smiled and stroked a hoof through his mane.  “It’s probably done quite a bit to help your reputation if you stop and take questions.”

“I’ve already got sales in other towns, and it sold out here.”

“That’s wonderful!” Amalthea exclaimed.  “I assume you’re not the most extroverted pony.”

“Not really,” Written replied.  “Enough to get by on a daily basis.  This time right here is my favorite time, though.  When I don’t have to be out there and just be in here with you.”

Amalthea giggled.  “Tomorrow, take a day off.  Maybe you just need a day to rest.”

Written nodded.  “I just need to make a quick run for a few fruits tomorrow.  But I won’t go on any impromptu lectures or stuff like that.”

Amalthea giggled again.  She kissed Written, and he kissed her back.  He felt a hoof gently rub his belly before sliding gently down to his side and the light weight of Amalthea’s leg on his chest.  “Perhaps pick up some strawberries for a treat?”

“I’ve told you before that trick doesn’t work for me,” Written said with a smile as he closed his eye again.

Amalthea sighed and rested her head against Written’s shoulder.  “So long as I’m the one you come back to at the end of the day, I don’t care if you spend your time among everyone else.  But make sure think of yourself, too.”

“I will, Amalthea,” Written Script whispered into her ear.

* * *

The next day, Written Script felt better than he had in the past week.  He got up while the sun was still low and made himself a cup of coffee, retreating to his writing room to drink it while he read over the mail.  He found the unfinished poem he had created the morning that Metal Quill had visited him and even managed to create a fourth to add to the collection.  By the time the fourth was finished, Written had finished his coffee and Amalthea was just waking up; Written saw her when he went into the kitchen to pour himself a second cup.

“You seem energized today,” Amalthea said warmly.

“I feel energized,” Written Script said.  “I don’t know what it is.  I probably just managed to have a good night’s sleep last night.  At least, better than I’ve had recently.”

Amalthea smiled.  “Well, it’s good to see you regain your energy.  Are you still going to stay at home most of the day?”

“Yeah.  I’m still gonna run that errand, though.  Oh, I almost forgot; mom and dad are asking us to dinner at their house the day after tomorrow; I’m going to take a salad for them.”

“Sounds wonderful.  I’ll see about making a chocolate peanut butter pie to take along as a surprise.”

Written went over to Amalthea and gave her a quick kiss.  “Mother will adore you for it.  She says the last time you brought it over she gorged herself.”

“Now that’s a compliment,” Amalthea said.  “I’ll be sure to bring it over, then.”

Amalthea got herself ready to go and headed out the door.  Written Script sipped his coffee slowly and watched as Amalthea walked down the street towards Sugarcube Corner and waited until after she had entered and he could no longer see her before getting up himself.  Once he had prepared his own bag of bits and his saddlebags, Written headed out and locked the house up before heading to the marketplace.

Despite the warm morning, not many ponies were out and about.  It was rather quiet and subdued, a welcome change after the week Written had been having.  Written zipped from stall to stall, picking up fruits and vegetables for the house as well as a bottle of milk and an extra loaf of bread just to be sure.

His last stop was for apples at a stall run by a large red stallion that didn’t talk much.  The first fruits of the harvest were coming in early, and Written stood and admired each of the fresh apples as they shone in the morning sun.  He took almost every one and turned them in his hooves, admiring the firmness and the almost polished gleam they gave off.  They even smelled sweet.

“I’ve always heard the apples around here are some of the sweetest and juiciest,” said a rather refined voice from next to Written Script.  “Almost makes one wonder if it’s something in the soil or the pony that does the work.”

Written turned around to see who was speaking.  It happened to be a medium grey Earth pony mare with a straight black mane and a pink treble clef cutie mark.  Her light purple eyes closed for a minute as she sniffed a red and gold apple before opening them and turning to look at Written.

“Octavia!” Written exclaimed.  “It’s been a while.  I didn’t even know you were coming down.”

“Since our lunch at Gustave’s, I believe,” Octavia said pleasantly.  “And I myself didn’t know I’d be here today.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to see you down, in any case,” Written said.  He picked out five of the best and paid for them, in addition to the one Octavia was interested in.  “So, how are things with the symphony?”

“Oh, we traveled over to Vanhoover and played every night for a week,” Octavia replied as they started walking out from the marketplace.  “Sold out every show and I managed to make a nice paycheck because of it.  How about you?  How’s the short story collection coming along?”

“Do you read Canterlot Quarterly at all?”

“Why do you suppose I was asking about the book?  A.K. Yearling’s review must have had a rather profound impact on sales.”

“Sold out the first week it was available in the Ponyville bookstore,” Written said proudly.  “And it’s started to spread into nearby towns.  Final Draft was telling me it might be sooner than most that we can release it to the big cities.”

“Well, you must have been busy since we last met, designing and all that.”

“You’ve been pretty busy yourself.  So, are you due for a concert this weekend?”

“Actually, I just came here for a little vacation.  Figured I’d take a short break before we have a string of events in Canterlot.  You know, a little fresh air, check out the sights, good company.”  Octavia looked approvingly at Written Script, a small smile gracing her face.

“Well, it certainly is a pleasant surprise to see you down here.  Where are you staying at?”

“That little bed and breakfast next to the town hall.  A quaint little room and breakfast for forty bits a night, and the couple who runs it are fantastic.  You just never get that in cities like Canterlot.”

“Well, they might be able to provide breakfast, but you should come over for dinner at least once while you’re down, and perhaps we could meet somewhere for lunch.”

“Excellent.  But, aren’t you staying with that one mare?”

“We live together and we’re close, but we’re not that close,” Written said casually.  “She’s just a really good friend of mine.  Honestly, I’m probably closer to my editor Twilight than I am to her.”

“So long as she doesn’t mind, it doesn’t matter how close you are.”

“Well, how about you come over right now?”

Octavia stopped.  Written stopped with her.  “Right now?” Octavia asked.

“Sure.  Amalthea’s out working at Sugarcube Corner and won’t be back for at least a few hours.  We could sit down in the kitchen, have a cup of tea, and talk for a little while.”

Octavia’s smile grew.  “I think I’d like that,” she said, excitement audible in her voice though the rest of her remained composed.

It wasn’t long before they reached Written’s house.  Written opened the door and allowed Octavia to go in first.

“Well-kept and clean,” Octavia said approvingly.  “A bit on the small side, but it’s almost like a country home in terms of feel.  How much did you get it for?”

“Can’t remember exactly,” Written said.  “It was a few years ago and I got it for a decent price.”

Octavia nodded and walked towards the kitchen.  Written pulled out a chair for her before boiling some water and pulling out some tea bags, earl grey for Octavia and chai for himself.  The two sat down at the table and scooped sugar and poured creamer into their cups.

“Seems you’ve made out well with your career choice.”

“I don’t expect to make as much as you, though, with ponies flocking to your concerts.”

“I don’t make as much as you think,” Octavia replied.  “On my own, I can only afford a small apartment in Canterlot.  My family comes from old money, however, and so I’m able to own a house without needing to make the payments on it.”

“But you’re a soloist.  And, when you play, you’re often first chair.”

“Yes, but that doesn’t guarantee money.  The concert hall takes its share of profits, then the conductor, then me.  And the others aren’t too far behind.”

“Must be glamorous, though.”

“Oh, it certainly is.”  Octavia leaned back in her chair, closed her eyes, and sighed.  “There are the fancy concert halls, the sounds of beautiful music coming from the orchestra, and of course the high-society gatherings.”

Written was about to speak and comment on Octavia’s musings, but the mare soon opened her eyes and kept them half-lidded.  “But it can be busy.  I don’t often have time to myself.  That is, one could almost assume, why I came down here.”

Written felt his face get hot.  “Your music is beautiful.  Certainly you could have attracted someone to you at this point.  As though by siren song.”

“One would have thought that if they noticed how you watched me at the concert,” Octavia said.

It was true.  Written remembered how he had gone from having a lovely evening with Amalthea to being unable to tear himself away from Octavia watching him.  And the same thing was happening right now; Written had almost lowered his head in embarrassment, but he refused to leave the half-lidded eyes staring at him.  It took a moment before Written had vaguely realized they were coming closer to him.

“Well, I suppose you could say I have a good ta—”

It wasn’t even what he had wanted to say but Written was still cut off.  Octavia had leaned across the table and her lips had met with his, a hoof around his head.  Octavia’s kiss was more tender and passionate than anything he had experienced with Amalthea.  It wasn’t long before Written stopped trying to talk and simply focused on his kiss with Octavia.  His eyes rolled back and closed as he felt their tongues touch and nearly fell off his chair.

It wasn’t long before he and Octavia were both off their chairs and walking slowly to Written’s bedroom.  Written closed the blinds and the door with his magic and laid down on the bed as Octavia crawled over him and wrapped her hooves around his head and neck, their lips meeting again as Written lost all sense of control.