Amidst The Fallen Leaves
Sitting down like this makes me think of you. Or rather, the first time I met you. Everything's the same, except the scenery I'm looking at.
There were clouds in the air back then, too. Only a few scattering across the bluest sky, and the sun is rising beyond the far horizon, the one that catches my eye with its vast forests. I breathe in and out, the cold air turning my breath into a cloud of chrystalline smoke. Back then I sat down a patch of grass by the road, just like this one.
There're trees standing there, one in the middle of the field, the rest circling around it. Their leaves are falling as the wind blows through them. It's like its snowing, only instead of a simple white we get yellows and oranges and browns. It is an earthly warmth I'm feeling, despite the last bits of alcohol vanishing from mind. Whatever lightheadedness I felt a few hours ago is leaving. I feel the world starting to make sense again, feel like I should go back, hug you one last time.
But we parted in such a miserable way, I'm starting to shake just thinking about facing you again.
It's just like when we first met. I came from a long night, some fraternity throwing a party, me being the hired DJ. I'd done it a million times before, and it was just the usual thing. The morning thereafter I went for a walk through the town.
The clouds, the trees, the patch of grass. I sat down on it, looking at the tree in the middle of the field, just like this very moment.
Turning around I see that nopony else is here, so that's different. Back then I turned around and then you stood there. Eyes the color of mulberries, coat a fine grey, with a dark mane and an unsmiling face. You looked a proper mess, too drunk to walk, too sober to sleep.
You asked me whether you could sit by my side, and before I could answer you went ahead and lay down, head on my lap. There was nothing I could do, and you smelled of whiskey and cider and beer and wine. Yet you weren't drunk enough to fall asleep. Back then I didn't say anything, wondered whether you'd been at the party.
You asked me what I thought about entertaining colts, and I wondered what you meant. Do you remember that moment, when you told me that one of the guys made you deal? You would get a chance to play for the Canterlot Symphony Orchestra and in exchange you'd have to provide some fun for the colts?
You thought yourself a despicable mare, a pony who'd sleep with anyone to get what she wanted, a disgrace to her parents. You were young and just told me what they'd told you. I remember those moments, and I remember that you wanted to drink yourself to oblivion. But you were too sober to come even close to that point.
After a while I started to wonder what instrument you played. A cello, and you were good with it. Ever since you were a little filly you'd gone and played before ponies. First your family, then their friends, then concerts. Of course, you were just a country pony, and the concerts were only village festivals. They told you you were important to the village, you were everything they stood for. The perfect little princess who would someday conquer the city.
Your parents would disown you for what you did.
The leaves looked like they were rising with the wind, up to heights unknown and your tears fell onto my lap. The hoodie I wore, grey and thick and warm, soaked them up and for the next few years I could swear that I always smelled their salt between the seams.
I told you that it was fine, that you'd get your chance now.
But you didn't, you were cast out by the ones who'd given you the promise. They didn't need a whore, they told you, and you retreated back home.
I only met you in the year thereafter, again on the same field.
We wore both hoodies. I, because it reminded me of the drunk filly who'd cried herself out on my lap; you, because it was all that remained on you. That, the bruises from the beatings and the stones, and your cello.
You told me behind a cold face that you knew me, I told you that I remembered, and then you just sat down by my side and talked.
I remember.
I remember.
I. Remember.
You told me everything and I said I would be there for you, I took you in, I let you help with my work while trying to get you together with a few ponies who were trying to make a band. I helped you. I helped you! And what did I get back?
I remember us sitting at the table, the pancakes' steam rising into the air, the scent of flour and syrup touching our noses. A sweetness I'd not known before. Your hair was a mess, you smelt of vomit and were shaking nervously. Your eyes were red from all the tears. Crying was easy for you, just as it came easy to me to hug you and love you and give you everything you wanted.
I remember that moment, because it was before your first gig with the band. You told me that you couldn't do it, that everypony thought you'd slept with the reviewers already. Nopony trusted you, nopony but I.
And so I walked with you to the café where you would play. I held your cold, shaking hoof, and told you I'd buy you your favorite ice cream when all of this was over. And you walked to that stage and you became a different mare.
The moment the bow touched your cello, you erected a wall of melodies around you and became one with the music, in a way I envied. That's how you thanked me, isn't it? What you and the others played that night, a song of love and loss, I still keep it in my heart.
And then nopony applauded, nopony but I. My claps were small and insignificant and you were close to breaking out in tears, until the second pony started to clap. As I saw her even I stopped, my mouth opened and I couldn't believe what was happening.
Do you remember when Princess Celestia herself came to a small café and thought your music an unpolished gem of newfound creativity? Do you remember yourself starting to weep and laugh as she told you she wanted to hire you all? The royal band?
Your smile was dirty, snot ran down your nose and you looked ten years younger, like a filly who'd just gotten her cutie mark. When you came to me and hugged me so fiercely, I couldn't believe it.
You said that everything I did, everything I said had been right. Then why?
I kissed you.
On the cheek, to gauge your reaction. You punched me lightly and laughed, thought it a joke. You rejected my laugh because I was a big sister to you, the kind, attentive sibling you never had.
That's half the reason, you know? You made me do it.
I remember us entering our new home. I always hated our old one. There were rats beneath the sink, the water from the shower was cold and brown and reeked. Our new one was the one you'd gotten. In the royal palace. I remember you saying that I could finally cook with proper ingredients, like I always wanted to. I remember you saying that I could finally dress myself in all the pretty dresses I always wanted to have.
You didn't lie. Not then.
Not then.
You lied later, when you told me they didn't book you for the grand galloping gala and when you told me that it was the princess who wanted me out.
I remember you giving me my backpack and my glasses and showing me the way to the door. It was an ugly moment, one I don't want to repeat in my mind. I felt my heart being torn apart as everything I'd done to you fell apart. But you were happy, my dearly beloved.
That was all I could ask for.
I overheard you in the same café where you played for Celestia, talking with the same ponies I had introduced you to, about me. How I had always dragged you down, how I wasn't fit for standing at the top.
It had been years since that filly with the mulberry eyes and the cello slung across the shoulders had placed herself in front of me and asked me whether I could live with her and somewhere, in place I had not seen, something had changed her. I wanted to talk to you, or her. I guess her, since the filly I fell in love with was a sweetly silly thing who cried often and her laughter was like a gust of spring in the heart of winter.
So I went past the guards and through the window, and all you did was scream. I was a freak at that moment. A burglar, a monster. But I'm not a monster. I'm me, and I love you.
That's why I had to get rid of her.
The leaves are falling and there is no wind to lift them up. I am alone here on this field in the early autumn. Right now, there is no silly filly with me, nopony I love. We got through a lot together, that's the absolute truth of it. But I also know that my hoodie is now going to forever smell of your blood.
I don't know whether I should be happy about that, but I did it for you, despite how you threw me to the ground. Something in the palace had twisted you and you would never reach the kind of happiness you could have had with me.
Standing up won't make me forget you. I'll carry the tears and the blood with me now, even if they chase me to the ends of the world for what I did. I love you, Octavia Melody, I always did.
And I will never, ever forget you.
