Potvaliancy

by Vekrote

Rating: teen
Tags: Romance, Slice of Life, DJ P0N-3, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Octavia
Length: 1647

Life, no matter how or where it is carried on, will always be life.

Life in Canterlot is an exciting prospect, is it not? To live in such a place steeped in innumerable years of history and grandeur...
Life however, no matter how or where it is carried on, will always be life.

Published 2014-01-24 14:10:02 UTC
Last updated 2014-01-24 14:10:02 UTC

Sonder

There are very few things to be said that are better than a fresh morning.

Waking gently as the first rays of the morning sun peaked curiously through her window, she stirred a leg beneath the sheets, enjoying the soft tug of the fabric against her coat. Lifting her head slightly from her pillow, she took a quick look around the room before her before allowing it to drop once again onto its cushion of cotton and down with a gentle phwomp.

As the tendrils of light crept ever upwards along her, she brushed her coverings mindlessly aside as she lowered at first one, and then two hooves over the edge of her bed before completely raising herself. Rolling her shoulders pleasantly with a yawn, she began to trot noiselessly forwards towards the stairs, opening her eyes for only the second time that morning. Taking the stairs one step at a time, her shoes clinking dully against the polished wood beneath them, she approached the main floor of her apartment. Feeling an unwanted breeze against her muzzle, she walked dutifully forwards and drew closed the curtains above the sink, dimming the sunlight filtering through and making a mental note to make better sure that they were closed before retiring for the coming night.

Nights had never been a favorite of hers.

Filing away the thought, however, she reached over and deftly flicked open one of the oaken cabinets above her kitchenette, bringing down a blue porcelain cup and matching platter. Placing them gently on the counter top, she turned on her sink and placed an iron kettle beneath the stream, allowing it to fill halfway before cutting the flow and turning on the stove behind her in the same fluid movement. Taking the now-heavier kettle carefully in her hooves while placing her weight against the counter to balance, she pushed off and spun herself slowly around to situate the vessel on the now-glowing surface.

Dropping back to all fours, she walked slowly away from her work and seated herself with a happy sigh at a small table near the far end of the kitchen, the simple wooden chair creaking softly as she settled herself atop it. Allowing her eyes to drift closed once again, she opened her ears to the subtle sounds mulling about around her; the humming of the stove, the wind against the curtains, the beams of her home settling, her own breathing; it was an absolute symphony unmatched to those who took the time to listen. She absolutely loved taking the time to listen.

Feeling its cue to enter the concert underway, the whistle of the kettle announced that her next

task was to begin. Lifting herself from her seat, she pranced forwards happily and placed a readied sachet of tea into her glass, draping the tail and tag along the outside edge. With great care and practiced ease, she picked up the steaming kettle and twirled herself around to pour a generous portion near the edge of the tea within her cup, allowing it to fill.

After allotting it ample time to steep, she took the platter into her hooves and carried it back to her table, setting it in its place as she settled herself once again. The sun, now ever-so-slightly higher in the sky, now peered through the curtains and illuminated the tabletop perfectly, allowing the steaming contents of the cup to shine and refract its amber rays across the room hypnotically..

Bringing the cup carefully closer, the steam dancing near, she closed her eyes and took a sip.

….................

There are very few things to be said that are better than a day well under way

Dropping himself onto a well-cushioned chair on the receiving end of the bar, he motioned for the colt at the far end to bring him something to sip. His usual, naturally.

Spinning himself in his seat to survey his surroundings, he leaned back against the bar to take it all in; it wasn't much, to be honest, but it was more than he had ever known before. There was a piano at the distant edge perched upon a small stage, and ponies mulled about the goings-on of their lives amongst each other over food and drink along the main floor, waiting, whether they knew it or not, for the pianist to return to his post and ease their conversations and worries alike.

He never really had been one for mornings or nights; there was far to much to think about that had happened or that may happen. During the day, there was only the now, and that suited him just fine.

The glasses-wearing colt behind the bar returned with a generous glass of amber-colored liquid and a plate of hay fries, placing them before the stallion on the other side gently as the clink of the containers was lost to the gentle thrum of activity around them. Nodding his thanks to his server, whose body was framed with glistening bottles and illuminated wooden shelves, he popped a warm fry into his mouth and directed his gaze outside.

The sun was now at its zenith, illuminating a beautiful scene of serenity and daily activity outside the meager bar, the only shadows to be seen small and beneath those who walked about. He loved it like this.

Turning his attention back to his quickly diminishing plate of fries, which he had been mindlessly munching on for far longer than it seemed, he reached for his glass. It was almost funny to him how easy the days seemed to go by now, the uncertainty of the past lost to him and the promise of the future welcoming. He wouldn't trade it for anything.

Sipping idly at his drink, allowing the dark, sweet liquid to heat him from within, he stole a glance at the old clock hung above the glittering shelves behind the bar. Figuring that his relaxation was nearing its end, he once again motioned his thanks to the one behind the counter and pushed his plate and glass away from the edge. Dropping his hooves back firmly to the ground, he smoothed the edges of his tuxedo with the side of his leg and then set himself on his way towards the stage. Drawing the vinyl-topped wooden stool from beneath the keys, he closed his eyes and swung his tail over the seat. Tipping his head forwards with a smile, he ran a hoof across the length of the keyboard, coaxing a gentle, melodious trill from within. Humming a simple melody, he mirrored it with his hooves as the noise from within the bar began to quiet. Feeling fresh eyes upon him, he spread his wings and draped his feathers across the many keys, not once opening his eyes as he felt the familiar, cooling sensation travel through him. Smiling deeply, he began to play.

….................

There are very few things to be said that are better than a young night.

Propping herself upwards from her perch at her desk, she dropped her pen and spun around in her chair, disentangling herself from her headphones as she stepped forwards. Taking a quick canter over to her window, she threw open the curtains and peered out the window at the roughly-cobbled street below.

Dotted with streetlamps and storefronts, the path wound and trailed off into the distance as she traced it with her eyes, taking it all in. It was a bit of a ritual for her, to just stop and watch every now and again.

Nights had always been a favorite of hers. The responsibilities of the day carried away with the passing of the sun, with endless possibilities and opportunities blanketing the world alongside the darkness. It was almost sad to her how very little truly took the time to appreciate it.

Spying a colt step out of a doorway across the street from her, she was drawn out of her thoughts as she watched him adjust his scarf and step out and about on his way. As he trotted calmly along, his shadow twirling around him as the lights above him came and went, she saw him stop and take a breath. Patting at the base of his scarf, as though in searching, he turned on a hoof and retraced his steps back to where he had come from.

Must have forgotten something.

Pulling the curtains back into place, she turned and picked up her own scarf that had been carelessly draped across her bed. Taking it in an aura of pale blue magic, she draped it around herself and tucked it neatly into place. Stealing a quick glance at the clock, she walked back over to her desk and finished tucking away her headphones, neatly wrapping the cable around them before she hung them from a peg on her wall. Draping a pair of deep blue saddle-bags across her, she made her way towards the door. Embracing the latch with her magic, she pushed the door quietly open so as to not disturb those who showed their appreciation for the night in a way other than her own.

Closing and latching the door behind her, she descended the quick flight of stairs and made her exit from the apartments she called home. Hunching her shoulders slightly against the wind, she took a deep breath as she adjusted the scarf situated around her, brushing away a fresh powdering of snowflakes in the process. Satisfied in her way, she began to trot dutifully forwards, counting the streetlamps in her head as she passed beneath them.

Stopping abruptly, however, she reached a hoof up and felt along the base of her scarf, and then across her eyes. Laughing inaudibly to herself, she turned on a hoof and began to retrace her steps back to where she had come from.

Must have forgotten something.