Do You Know What I See?

Throughout the short walk that Octavia and I took, I couldn't help but to shift my hand against her back, desperately wanting to obtain more and more detail about her that I could not see. She didn't seem to mind, or, at least, she simply pushed the matter aside as it went on. Nonetheless, I was grateful.

From what I had felt, I could feel her neat and trim fur, a feel of cleanliness to it that almost made it feel as if it shined. Her mane was long, elegant, and soft to the touch. It felt as though it could easily be used as a pillow of sorts. One that could put even the most troubled of insomniacs to rest. Finally, as we turned a corner, and she ended up having to get momentarily closer to me as she guided me, my hand slid further up, near her neck. I could feel some sort of material there. Almost like... A separated shirt collar.

From this, I could see that she was a very mannerly kind of person... Pony... I suppose I still haven't gotten used to that.

Nonetheless though, this was barely scratching the surface of who this mare was. An idea as to her appearance, and nothing more. I would need more if I was to truly create her image. More that, perhaps, we would be able to achieve over lunch.

After what felt to be about five, maybe seven, minutes, I began to hear the clamor and conversation of other ponies. It was by no means at an obnoxious volume, but rather, a conversative one. "May I help you?" I heard a pony say. A stallion, by the deepness of his voice.

"Table for two, if you please." Octavia requested. The faint sound of papers being tapped against a desk, almost tidily, came through, followed shortly after by the heavier hoofsteps of the pony I believed to be the stallion.

"Right this way." He said. Octavia's joints and muscles shifted, along with the rest of her, as she began to move forward, myself following shortly behind. She lead me through the establishment, making sure that I would avoid hitting anything, or anyone, with her gentle voice guiding me along.

Before long, I heard the scraping of wood on floor, followed shortly after by Octavia's voice once again. "Okay, now just go ahead and sit. The chair should be right in front of you." I gave her a nod as I reached my available arm out, quickly coming into contact with a solid mass, oddly, yet familiarly, shaped.

I reluctantly pulled my other hand away from Octavia, severing myself from my mind's momentary muse, as I then maneuvered myself into the seat. It was slightly lower to the ground than those of my home, but I suppose that was to be expecting, considering the clear size difference between these ponies and I.

Nevertheless, it did not bolster me any issues, aside from my legs having to be slightly more forward than usual.

I pushed myself forward until my chest came in contact with the table, before then adjusting myself again, into what I believed to be the appropriate position.

Across from me, I heard the shifting of Octavia's seat, allowing me to guess that she had now placed herself at the table as well. A small twinge of longing came to me as I remembered how, from one of the pieces of literature I had read, men would normally pull the seat's of the women back for them, before then adjusting it.

I knew I wouldn't be able to do such a thing, and a part of me also supported that Octavia didn't mind, but I couldn't really help myself but to ache for the ability to do so.

Within moments after the two of us had settled ourselves into our seats, myself giving her a quick smile as we did so, the sound of clopping hooves indicated the arrival of another pony. "Hello, my name is DeftServe, and I will be your waitpony today." The stallion greeted.

I offered a curt nod in his direction, giving him my own, though silent, greeting. I was unsure as to wether Octavia had done the same or not, but I pushed the thought aside as quickly as it had come.

"Now, is there anything you two would like to drink to start off?" He politely asked, the sound of a flipping notebook page, lacking of any sort of physical contact, leading me to believe that the stallion was a unicorn.

Octavia was the first to respond. "I'll have a light cider. What about you, Eugene?" She asked. For a moment, it seemed that she had tuned out the waiter --Waitpony-- completely, but I wrote it off as an occasion that my thoughts had gone too far off.

"Just some water for me." I told her, and the stallion, folding my hands together on the table, if only out of old habit. Pencil began to scribble on DeftServe's paper as he wrote down our requests.

"Alright. I'll be back with your drinks in just a moment." As the sound of pencil on paper stopped, I then heard what seemed like the shifting of an object onto the table, and moving slightly across it. It had come from Octavia's side. "In the meantime, feel free to look through our selec-..."

The rest of his sentence seem to jam up, as both he, and the air around the three of us, suddenly became silent.

"... Is there a problem?" Octavia finally asked, almost antagonizing in her tone, which caused me to raise a brow.

"Um... Well... It's just that... Um..." Another moment of silence as I confusedly awaited for some hint of knowledge as to what was happening. A sigh, from Octavia's direction, however, broke this stillness.

"Eugene, would you like a menu, or not?" My brows slightly rose at this. At the time, I was still uncertain as to what was occurring.

It was not until a few days later that I had learned the truth, told to me straight from the mouth of Octavia. As it had turned out, this whole issue was over the fact that I had not been given my menu.

That sound I had heard earlier, of a shifting object on the table, was likely one of the menus that our server had given to Octavia. When he was about to give one to me though, he had frozen, likely having remembered of the slight... Oversight, he had made in his earlier suggestion to 'view their selections'.

Octavia, though I did not know it, felt irritated by this fact. Not the fact that he had forgotten I was blind, she had told me, but that he hadn't given me my menu either way. 'Blind or otherwise, you should still at least be given some forms of normalcy.'

It was a kind, if not slightly overt, gesture of hers, and I appreciate it to this day.

"Oh... Uh, no thank you. I'm sure that we can find something for me with yours. If you don't mind, that is." I heard a lighthearted chuckle from across the table.

"Not at all." The server had, though only in my faintest of senses, left us to ourselves a moment or two ago, taking the second menu with him, and giving out a small sigh of relief as he went. I suppose I couldn't blame him. Were our roles reversed, I likely would have felt the same sense of dilemma.

"So, how should we go about this?" I asked. I could hear hum in thought for a moment, her menu lightly tapping against the table as she lowered it.

"... Well, if you like, I could read you some of the listings for you to choose from." I nodded. It was basically how my family and friends had assisted me back home when we went out to eat, so I didn't see any problems with it. "Alright... How about... A bowl of wheatgrass stew? The last time I was here, I gave it a try, and I have to say, it's delicious."

It did sound appetizing. My stomach, in fact, agreed with this, letting out a loud growl in it's attempts to coax me to choose the meal. I followed it's 'orders', along with Octavia's recommendation. "That sounds delightful..." A moment of afterthought came to me at that instant, as one of my brows rose in a slightly worried fashion.

"... Um, Octavia, just so we're clear, there isn't really any wheat, or grass, in the stew, is there?" It sounded like an odd question, but, to a man who had once bitten down on 'hay fries' only to find that they were literally made of hay, or who had taken a chomp out of a daffodil sandwich, I would say that I had my reasons for asking.

Octavia let out a small, barely audible, giggle. "That's pretty much what wheat grass is. But, don't worry, it's pureed, and I'm pretty sure that you'll be able to eat it too. After all, I've seen a couple of griffons have a taste of it, and they were just fine."

Ah, the griffons. One of the many more previously inexistent species that I had learned to live in this land, shortly after my arrival. It was odd to hear that they, and ponies, lived with little to no issue between them, but I am far from complaining of it.

Aside from that, the griffons also share a relatively similar diet to humans, in that we are both omnivores. So, it was only logical that, if they could eat something, than it was likely that I could as well. Besides, I wouldn't really think of Octavia to suggest something that she would know to be unhealthy, or inedible, to me. Not because of how well I knew her,--I still only had a foggy idea-- but simply because I felt compelled to trust her.

I had given her this trust when she led me here, my hand on her back throughout most of the walk, and I saw no reason to not do the same for something such as this.

"Oh, that's fine. I suppose I'll take the stew then." I overheard what sounded like an 'mm-hm' of satisfaction. "What about you? What will you have?" I inquired.

"Mmm... I'll just take a vegetable omelet. I've been craving one all day." She chuckled as she finished this statement, drawing another smile from me.

Her food choice was... Odd, but I suppose I could say that the same went for most other ponies. They were herbivores, and yet they ate things like eggs, sweets, and other things that normally wouldn't be eaten by an equine.

Seconds after she, and I, had decided on what to eat, I once again heard hoofsteps approaching towards us, with a faint clinking accompanying it. "Here we are. One water," the stallion said as I then heard the sound of a glass being placed at my side of the table, "and one light cider." Another glass was placed on the table, this time on Octavia's side.

"Now, have you two decided on what to order, or would you like some more time?" He asked us politely, the small notebook he used to write down orders flipping open.

"We've decided, thank you. I'll take the vegetable omelet, and he'll have the wheatgrass stew." I could hear his pencil scribbling against the notebook.

"Omelet, and stew... Alright, your orders will be ready before you know it." His pencil gave one more firm tap onto the paper, before he closed it up again, and walked off.

Opposite of me, I heard the clinking of shifting ice, and a faint gulp. "Ah. Much better." Octavia said as she placed her glass back down.

"I guess we have some time before he comes back. Anything you want to talk about to pass the time?" I momentarily searched through my mind at this. Truthfully, I had a lot to ask her. Anything that would better the image of her I had in my mind.

"... Well, I suppose that I could start off by simply asking if everything has been going well for you." I settled on this question if only to bring about a better start to our conversation.

"Pretty good, for the most part. Vinyl hasn't come home too buzzed from her late night parties recently, and the other ponies in the royal orchestra have really been improving." My mind stuck on the last thing that she had said.

"Royal orchestra? You're a member of that?" I asked, a sense of surprise and interest about me. I heard her chuckle.

"Yes, actually I am. Did I not mention that?" She asked jokingly. I gave out a well-meaning scoff in return.

"Not particularly, no. What instrument do you play?"

"I'm the first seat cello player." Ah, the cello. An instrumental string that always had a uniqueness to it, among the organized brilliance of a symphony. It held a deeper, more pronounced vibrancy to it, along with a masterful tune, only feasibly reached by those with great experience. I had never seen one, but, according to what my friends had once told me, it was large, sleek, and would seem utterly astounding to those interested, myself included.

Somehow... It just fit.

"Really? Well, I must say, I'd be interested in hearing you play, if you wouldn't mind that is." I told her with a smile.

"Not at all. Maybe we can work something out for later?" I nodded.

"No complaints here." I heard her let out a soft giggle.

"Good to know. So, I guess now it's my turn to ask you a question?" I nodded again, a smile on my face. "Well, I guess that, since I did just mention my housemate... How's ShimmerSky been treating you?" She asked.

"She's been really nice, actually. Though, she's also reminiscent to my mother, in a way. Always concerned about my hurting myself, and the like. Still, I don't really mind too much." She held back a laugh at the mention of ShimmerSky's similarities to my mother, obviously amused by this.

"Heh. Wow, I never took her for that sort of pony. She was usually pretty laid back when we were back in school. Oh well, I guess that time changes all." I myself was slightly surprised that ShimmerSky, of all ponies, used to be laid back. Though, I suppose that Octavia had said it best when she said that 'time changes all'. "Though, I wonder, does she share any similarities with your father too?" My blood momentarily ran cold at this, as my breath all but stilled.

"... Uh... Y-yeah... A little..." I regretted that stutter, greatly, though I knew I couldn't take it back. Octavia, without even having to be very attentive, seemed to notice this shift of tone in my voice.

"Eugene? Is something wrong?" I suddenly felt very thirsty, my throat feeling like sandpaper as I reached to where I believed my glass of water to be.

My hand continually shifted along the table as I expected to soon come in contact with the cold glass. Surprisingly, though not unpleasantly though, I was instead met by the soft, yet firm, sensation of her hoof over my hand, stopping me in place.

"... Eugene." Reluctantly, I gave out a sigh, knowing that she wouldn't simply allow such a subject to pass, just as I wouldn't.

"... You know, I actually love my father even more, despite the circumstances. He was there for me for a lot of my life. Everyday, when I came back from school, or work, and he'd be there to ask me how my day had gone, or he'd call, and ask if everything was okay... At least, until one day... When I came home, and I didn't hear his voice... And instead, I heard my mother crying." To my chagrin, there was a moment of silence between the two of us, as the air around us became more heavy.

"...I'm sorry." Octavia finally said, pulling her hoof away. Or, more accurately, moving to do so, before I blindly stopped her, feeling as if it was necessary to do so.

"Octavia, believe me, it's fine. That part of my life's long behind me. Besides, I prefer to focus on the present. And right now, I'm spending time with a friend." At the moment, I could only hope that what I had said had cheered her up, if only slightly. I didn't care about my own momentary sadness towards the subject, considering I've had so much time to live past it, and rather, I was more focused on curing the apparent sadness of the mare in front of me.

For a moment, there was silence. An unbearable, and practically deafening silence. Finally though, she spoke again.

"... Thank you, Eugene. And... I'm glad that you think of me so close." I smiled at this, relief washing over me in a large wave. Though... This was quickly by something else shortly after.

"Alright, here are your ord-... Um, sorry, am I interrupting something?"

Aside from that little... Bump in the road, the rest of our lunch went really well. However, admittedly, I spent quite a bit of it red-faced, and I could imagine the same for Octavia.

The stew was, despite my earlier concerns, delightful in every way. Along with this, I could smell Octavia's order from across the table, a mental note forming in my mind to try the same on the next occasion that I would return.

Best of all, we had agreed to do this every now and again. From then on, I would see her everyday, as she would join me in my ministrations of listening to the natural orchestras around me.

It was from this that I learned more of her. Her likes and dislikes. Her many past experiences. Much more than that too.

It was from this, that I obtained the next part of the painting. The detail.