Wagon Wheel

by re- Yamsmos

Rating: teen
Tags: Adventure, Dark
Length: 1064

Octavia travels along the railroad tracks, her bass case in tow.

Octavia travels along the railroad tracks, her bass case in tow.

Octavia vector belongs to: AnimeLAbg

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2014-05-04 00:50:03 UTC

Trains

Octavia hated trains.

The loud, incessant noise they would make as they clattered along the railroad tracks, the ponies being rocked from inside it gaining the unintentional risk of being given a swift method to becoming brain dead. It always screeched death into her ears, and could have caused them to bleed had she not rehearsed the idea of throwing her hooves over her ears whenever she even so much as imagined the hellish sound.

Octavia absolutely despised the way it rattled across the tracks, as if plates in the earth by her hooves were constantly shifting in the train's wake, following it and contaminating the land with its deadly plague as it went along to its countless destinations day by day. She hated the cramped corridors inside the passenger cars, where if a pony even attempted to move from their spot, he would find  misfortune and failure when he realized that he could barely even stand inside the almost claustrophobic train car.

Trains were horrid creatures to Octavia. Especially so, as the only times she would find herself hearing one was when she was on her way to yet another location in Equestria for yet another concert with her cohorts. It's not that she hated them, they were nice enough ponies, but the same old routine and the same old locations and the same old train were enough to get her to begin hating everything about it.

Not that there was anything she could do about it. Octavia Philharmonica was the Lead Bassist for the Canterlot Orchestra, the one group of musicians representing the entire capital of Equestria. A lot of weight was put on everypony, and especially the dark grey-maned Earth pony standing on the left most side of the conductor at every concert, her bass perfectly upright and her bow arm perfectly positioned to play every single note as perfectly as an expert.

As was expected, that is. In others' minds, she was the expert. Anything regarding the double bass or music notes or bow rosins were directed to her, and she always gave the proper and most correct answer she could. It always turned out to be exactly right, no matter what her answer was. It seemed to be a subconscious thing of hers nowadays. Even without listening, the mare always said the exact thing that would turn out to be right for her bandmates.

Needless to say, she hated it. All of it. All the mare wanted to do was retire to her apartment, snuggle up onto her bed, and just relax. The mare found it odd that she had that same feeling every single time a concert was to transpire, as if it was connected to it somehow. Octavia always groaned on the inside whenever she was to play at a concert. She knew the insides and the outsides and the insides of every note, every rest, and every solo present in their pieces. Long hours were spent of hers just reading the music and imagining it in her head, and when her orchestra played it the next day, her imagination came to life in the exact same way.

Octavia hated trains.

Trains brought the real life.

And trains brought the realization of who she was and who she would be for the rest of her life.

Trains were Tartarus Incarnate, and would surely gobble her up and drag her down with him to play concerts for him as well. Octavia shook her head at the thought. Tartarus had better things to do than to have a single mare play a stupid instrument for him endlessly, right?

Right?

Right.

Octavia didn't really uphold religion. Sure, she believed in Faust and attended church from time to time, but when good times went to bad, she always found herself cursing the Old Mare In The Sky under her breath, something she was always told that a Faustian mare wouldn't do.

Octavia didn't care. She hated trains, and she hated Tartarus, and she hated the life she had to live through on a day-to-day basis, wishing she could be back home, sleeping. Wishing she could be away from her musical life, finding that one stallion who made her happy, and settling down with him.

Octavia had many suitors, which she found ridiculously stupid. It wasn't as if she were the Princess' daughter. She wasn't anypony important, besides Lead Bassist of Canterlot's Orchestra and winner of over twenty seven musical awards. Octavia didn't want to believe it, but she was a bit of a celebrity. Not as widely known as Princess Twilight, or as praised as that DJ Pon-3 she was always hearing about, but she was still a celebrity in the eyes of thousands of ponies.

Her ridiculous "suitors" always had something wrong with them. Crybaby, needy, stupid, sense-lacking, unfunny is what named a few. She hadn't found one that could please her whatsoever. It wasn't hard to turn them down either. Her voice didn't even need to raise for the stallion to realize he wasn't The One. With his tail between his legs, he would saunter off in sadness, his plans for the two's "date" ruined with a few select words.

It took all of Octavia's willpower not to burst out laughing on the spot. Whenever they came up to her and she gave the same response, it was always after a concert, where Octavia would be placing her bass in its case and making sure of its security. Maybe she would be more willing if she didn't treat the instrument like a small child, mothering it as much as possible and seeing to its every need.

Octavia wondered if she had maybe missed The One while she was packing away her bass. Maybe she had told off that one stallion who would have stolen her heart and been as nice and sweet as she wanted. Maybe her music career and her devotion to it had ruined her life. Maybe she had already lost.

Faust.

Octavia hated trains.

The mare found this odd, as she thought of it.

Octavia hated trains.

But there she was, her bass case strapped to her and slung over her back.

There Octavia was, walking south across Equestria, her mind thinking back to a life she had hated, but was now missing.

There Octavia was, walking along the railroad tracks.

There Octavia was, alone.