AppleTavia sounds like a Drink
And OctaJack sounds like a Pirate
Octavia took a slow, deep breath, savoring the aroma of Sweet Apple Acres. It smelled like green, like life.
“Can’t get that in the city,” she said quietly to herself with a smile.
The earth pony rolled her shoulders and neck, hefting her cello case. She tapped one of the poles that held up the farm’s sign as she passed it. The morning sun beat down on her and the ground was hot beneath her hooves. She moved at a slow, steady pace, not minding the hot sun nor the hot earth. It was strangely different from the pavement of the city. Despite the fact it was actual dirt, it didn’t feel dirty.
Eventually, the hard-packed earth of the road gave way to the softer and cooler grass that covered the area around the farm house. Octavia paused near a fence, resting a fore-hoof atop it. She breathed deep again, practically tasting the carrots, tomatoes, and onions growing in the large garden.
She moved along the fence, ears flicking as a fly buzzed past her head. She soon came to the end of the fence and there she found a well-worn, wooden chair. She brushed her hoof over the chair’s back and seat, the wood warm, smooth, and polished.
Octavia gently set her cello case down and eased herself into the chair, detecting the subtlest of creaks as she settled.
“Trying to say something?” she said accusingly to the chair.
The chair, for its part, was silent.
Octavia smiled to herself and leaned back. The sun continued to shine its heat down on her, making her long for a cool breeze. And then, almost as though it was a gift from a passing Pegasus, the air stirred and blew. The breeze washed over her, eliciting a sigh of contentment.
A voice with a distinct southern twang suddenly reached her ears. “Octavia?”
The cellist sat up and smiled once she realized who it was. “Good morning, Applejack.”
“Mornin’,” Applejack replied automatically as she made her way down the steps from her home, the old wood creaking and groaning. She approached Octavia slowly, seemingly confused.
“Wondering what I’m doing here?” Octavia said after a few beats of silence.
Applejack nodded, saying, “Yeah, just kinda surprised is all.” She rubbed the back of her head, sounding embarrassed.
“I wanted to visit,” Octavia said simply. “And surprise you.”
Applejack smiled. “Well, you did surprise me. I, uh, don’t suppose you had breakfast first?”
Octavia nodded. “Vinyl insisted, like she was afraid I’d get lost on the way here.” She laughed softly at that. “I think I know the way to my favorite spot in all Equestria.” She patted the chair she sat on.
Applejack blushed. “Aw shucks, yer making me blush.”
Octavia laughed again and beckoned the farmer. “Come here, you,”
Applejack closed the distance and was pulled into an embrace once she was within Octavia’s reach. The cellist’s hooves roamed her body, rubbing and squeezing nearly every inch of her.
Octavia made a soft, happy sound as her hooves explored Applejack’s toned form. She knew every curve by heart, but a refresher never hurt. She traced a hoof up the farmer’s back and through her corn silk mane, pulling her a bit closer.
Octavia nuzzled the crook of Applejack’s neck, inhaling deeply. She smelled of warm earth and crisp apples, with just a hint of musky sweat. It was intoxicating. Octavia’s hooves no longer roamed, but merely held Applejack close as the cellist continued to breathe her in.
Eventually, Octavia released Applejack, the farmer straightening up as her cheeks burned hotter than the sun above them.
“Mmm, thank you, Applejack,” Octavia sighed happily. “You smell wonderful, as always.”
Applejack’s hat rustled softly as she fiddled with it. “You smell nice too, Octavia,”
The cellist giggled, always amused by the sound of Applejack’s pronunciation of her name. “You like the smell of wood polish and green tea?”
“‘Course I do. They remind me of you.”
Octavia said nothing in response, just smiling warmly at the farmer.
There was a stretch of quiet after that. Both mares simply enjoying the closeness of the other, the hot sun continuing to shine down on them. Eventually, Applejack coughed to break the silence. A habit she had picked up from Octavia.
“So, uh, I’ve got a bit of work to do. Ya need anything?”
Octavia shook her head. “I’m fine, dear. I’ll just practice a bit if that’s alright.” She patted the cello case beside her.
Applejack nodded, “It’s alright with me. Music’ll probably make the work go faster, too.”
The farmer trotted off towards the garden, leaving Octavia alone on her chair. She took another moment to inhale another lungful of the clear, clean air. She let it out slowly, her whole body going slack for a moment.
Straightening up, she found her cello case again and undid the latches, flipping the lid open. Slowly but steadily, she pulled the cello from its case and placed it in front of her. She held it out and up while she felt around in the case again, making a soft sound of triumph when she found her bow. She held the bow in her mouth while she gently settled the cello against her body. Still holding the bow delicately in her jaw, she gave each string a pluck, satisfied when each pluck made the appropriate tone. She then transferred the bow to her hoof and felt up the neck of the cello to her starting place.
Octavia touched bow to string and played a few experimental notes. A bird chirped behind her, likely from a tree. Somewhere away and to her right, she heard Applejack grunt as she worked at something in the garden. Octavia played a few more notes, trying to work out what to play properly.
Eventually, she settled on something simple, yet familiar. The first note was created slowly, easing her in, before her hooves began to move with purpose and power. The melody twisted and twirled around her, tickling her ears as she played. The tempo steadily increased, climbing higher and higher to a near fevered speed, before quickly coming down to a slower pace. Octavia’s hooves slowed, and eventually came to a stop.
The last note faded, carried away by a firm breeze that washed over her like a wave. Octavia heard the crunch of dirt under hoof, ears flicking again as she sensed somepony near.
“Not half bad,” Applejack said, making Octavia chuckle.
“Glad you liked it,” she said as she took the cello and gingerly lowered it back into its case, placing the bow next to it. “How goes your own work?”
“Finished weeding and watering.” Octavia could here Applejack fidget. “Speaking of which, you thirsty?”
“I could do with a drink,” Octavia said, flicking the cello case closed as she stood up.
Applejack let out a soft gasp and was instantly by Octavia’s side, trying to support her. Octavia, needing no such support, raised an eyebrow.
“You alright, Applejack?” Octavia asked.
“I’m fine, uh, how are you?” Applejack replied rather lamely.
“Sturdy,” Octavia replied, “but I appreciate your concern.” The cellist took the opportunity to rub herself against the farmer. “Trust me, I know my way around.”
Applejack hesitated, her vibrant green eyes meeting Octavia’s sightless grey. “O-okay sugar cube, but I’m gonna be right here next to ya.”
“I wouldn’t want you anywhere else,” Octavia smiled as she slowly but steadily made her way towards the farmhouse.
The cellist silently counted her hoof steps, raising her foreleg higher once she was certain she was near the steps. The wood creaked softly under her weight as she ascended. Four steps upwards she stopped and reached out to push the door open. The hinges squeaked and Octavia brushed the door with her shoulder as she entered the kitchen. She carefully made her way forward, feeling for the often moved chairs or table. She felt herself bump against the edge of the table and using it as a guide, found an empty chair. Octavia eased herself into the chair, catching Applejack fussing like a mother hen just a few paces behind her.
“I told you I knew my way around,” Octavia said with a hint of pride as she listened to Applejack bustle around the kitchen.
“I am impressed,” Applejack said as she opened the fridge and pulled something from it. There was the tinkle of glasses being set down followed by the sound of something being poured into them. “I guess you won’t have Mac lead ya around no more.”
Octavia giggled as she placed waiting hooves on the table. A glass was soon pushed into her grip and she pulled it close. “Well, I suppose I could still let him show me around. I think he might like me holding onto him.” Octavia raised the glass to her lips, drinking down the cold milk.
Octavia lightly smacked her lips once she’d finished, gently placing the glass back on the table. Applejack set her glass down a moment later, her hoof coming to rest a few inches from Octavia’s.
The cellist moved her hoof over to touch the farmer’s, feeling the soil that clung to her fur. She didn’t say anything. She didn’t need to. Octavia smiled and while she may not have been able to see Applejack smile back, she could certainly feel it.
