Snowbound in the Embassy Pt. 3

The snowfall outside of the young woman's apartment mirrored the thought processes going on inside of her. A peaceful memory here, a good memory there, just idly drifting through her mind. The old neighborhood with all it's little stages and players. A little gust outside throwing the dancing snow in chaotic swirls before finding themselves adjusted to their new course. A sad memory, a quiet memory. Simple things, old world troubles now she supposed. This world has been so much better than her last, by a factor of at least a thousand she argues with herself. But if so, with all it's troubles and worries, why did she miss home so much?

Corrie was smart enough to realize a lot of this had to do with her Momma's passing not long ago. That bitter spear point lodged in her chest was covered over, sure. A scab just waiting to be picked. All of this in her new existence gave her the perfect excuse to repress it and throw herself into her work. That and adjusting to this new place helped place a pretty thick bandage on that scab. Enough to make it manageable for now. She could feel it though, pushing it's way up and out. A slow and steady demand getting closer and closer. Waiting patiently for the day to pierce the skin and reopen the wound. Then and only then will it demand her immediate attention. But for now, it lies sated in it's meandering path through her chest.

Sighing through her teeth and adjusting again to find a comfortable spot on the couch, the young woman leans over and rests her head on the cushioned arm of the couch. The problem with knowing her problems is that she was smart enough to know what they were. She was just too emotionally immature to handle them properly, unlike that little grey pony currently sleeping in her bed. She's got her head screwed on straight. Snorting in derision at herself and her lack of basic functionality, she realizes this might be one of her biggest hurdles in adjusting to her new life.

It's why she pushed Vinyl away, she supposes. Too similar. As much fun as she was to be around, she reminded Corrie of her own younger years. A silent laugh escapes the woman's lips. 'Younger years' she whispers to herself before more of that odd laughter engulfs her again. Like those were so long ago. That could be part of it too. Just by her very nature she might not be a good fit for anyplace here, or any-pony for that matter. None of what she is, or who she is translates well into this place. She wouldn't wish her life growing up on anyone else. But she wouldn't change it for the world for herself. How could she without losing who she was? But, she considers, who is she really after all?

The problem with the past is that it rarely ever stays so, the young woman concedes. Sitting back up and resting her chin on her knees, Corrie re-wraps the blanket around her and watches the snow continue it's dancing parade outside her window. Inhaling deeply, she can smell Octavia's many scents from drying off under the blanket. Wet mane and fur. Faint shampoo, a hint of her mareness on the part she sat on. All without any headware.

She could pick out her scent in a crowd of a thousand, she guessed. Intoxicating and unusual. Wrapping herself up tighter in the blanket she takes in a deep breath while thinking warmly of Octavia. Her own pretty little pony. Allowing herself a moment of happiness thinking about the purple eyed mare. With a fading smile she understands she just might not be good for her though. Or good enough. No not one bit. And she really wasn't just hers, was she?

With a frown she unwraps herself from the blanket. Standing up she folds it neatly and places it on the couch. No sleep tonight it seems. Might as well work. Making her way through the kitchen she grabs a bottle of cider from the fridge before opening up the attic door and climbing the little stairs.

Octavia opens one eye slowly, scanning the bed. "Corrie?" she says quietly in the room. Lifting her head and opening her other eye she realizes indeed, she's alone in the room. Climbing out from under the blankets she trots her way to the living room. Calling her name quietly one more time going around the couch she sees it is empty as well. Her ears twitch a moment, and she hears something from the kitchen. She feels a moment of shame mixed with panic that Corrie might be trying to cook something. It's not everyone who can goo toast however, so caution was warranted.

Peeking her head through the kitchen doorway she sees the lights are out, and nothings cooking (or burning) so she sighs in a moment of relief. The attic door is open however. That's where the noise is coming from. Walking as quietly as possible towards the light through the kitchen she realizes she's hearing Corrie singing to herself. With a grin she redoubles her effort to maintain her silence walking, and slowly creeps up the stairs.

Octavia peeking around the corner and seeing Corrie turns her grin into a look of confusion. Sitting on her little swivel chair, she's hunched over, one elbow resting on her knee, head facing down. Occasionally her right hand would twitch in a shooing motion, eyes darting to the side left to right as if reading, but there was nothing in her lap to read. A long black cord sunk into the nape of her neck trailed out into one of her DocWagon boxes. The very same one her left hand was also inserted into. She could hear little machine noises gently humming out of the device.

Worrying her lower lip, she takes a tentative step towards the redhead. "Corrie, are you okay?" She asks gently. "I heard a noise?". Octavia realizes she can't stop staring at the little cord in the back of her neck. Two silver colored disc the size of a half-bit piece held together by something. And just how long did that go into her neck? The grey mare ponders while walking a little closer.

The little room was warmed up nicely by all the little machinery quietly running in their little respective places. Enough so, that Corrie had taken her pj pants and shirt off it seemed, only clad in a small brown sports bra and pink panties. Stifling a giggle Octavia can't decide if the woman was either color blind, or had no sense of color coordination. Or both. Blinking a few times quickly, she realizes she's never seen her wear matching socks either.

And there were so many freckles. Like an angry artist shook a brush at an offending canvas leading to a crazy array of little brown dots all over her body in varying hues. She was used to seeing the ones that covered her nose and cheeks, and the errant few of those on her forehead and chin, but when she really took the time to look at them all, there were really quite a lot.

Except on her back. Just a half inch or so down from the nape of her neck the skin was mess. It looked like it somehow melted and started pouring down her back. That's the best description she could give it. Like waves from the ocean frozen in a snapshot. No freckles there, just pale skin covered in scar tissue with matching indents on each side of her spine, in centimeter measurements from top to bottom. Each one a small silver point contrasting the brown freckles on the rest of her body. Close enough to stretch out her hoof slowly, not entirely sure she could stop herself from doing so, she gently rests her hoof on the center of her back, gently. She had to know what that felt like.

It may have sounded like signing to Octavia while she crept up the stairs, but Corrie was talking in Cityspeak to her a.i. assistant in her headware. It was pretty rough, but capable. Programming wasn't her strong suit, but a lot of basic programming for pre-purchased software came with a lot of snap in place iconography to work with, so even the most fumbled of fingers could handle teaching it new things to do. Mostly indexing in her case. Trying to find a more efficient way to handle all the new information was a little trickier than expected.

The doorway sensors told her someone of the four legged variety was coming up the stairs. She figured it was Octavia. It could have been one of the guards, sure, but they would have clanked up the stairs. Not stealthily creeping like this little one tried to do. Figuring she'd see her like this sooner or later, she chose to let her have a moment to digest what she saw. They've been in a few compromising positions so far sure, but she's never really let Octavia take a good look at her like this. Open and actually quite vulnerable. Interrupting diagnostics on the Move By Wire system could lead to some bad redundancies in the software requiring a reboot to fix. Which in this case rebooting is a seizure.

She couldn't see her, there were no cameras here for her to access with her headware. But she could hear her breathing, and smell her scent in the air as she was starting to heat up a little from the warmth. Her breathing picked up as well, not at the verge of panic breathing, but getting there in little increments the more she stared. "I hear you, Octavia. I just can't see you right now." Moving her right hand she gestures the grey mare to come stand in front of her.

Octavia blinks slowly but follows the woman's hand gesture and goes to sit before her. Corries right hand reaches out to her and she grasps it in her hooves. "What's wrong with your eyes?" She asks, trying to hide the rising concern in her voice.

"Part of the machines in my head. Like a movie you can interact with. Move the actors around, pick up scenery, put it down elsewhere. That sort of thing." Gently squeezing one of her hooves "It's only temporary. I usually don't let myself be blind, but I needed to do a few things at once." Hopefully nodding to the DocWagon box her hand was resting in. "Figured you were snoozing and I'd have time. It's going to be a little while before I can see you, that is." Corrie tries to give her a grin, but realizes she might not even be looking the right direction.

Octavia stands up on her rear hooves and leans forward. With one hoof she gently traces the black cord from the back of Corrie's neck. "And what is this doing? What is it for? How does it even work?" As she talks she takes her hoof and slides it cautiously across the wire to the DocWagon box her marefriend's hand was resting in. It gave a gentle warning beep when she got too close, her hoof freezing in place.

"That's just part of the readouts for my diagnostics. It let's the machines in my head and body talk to it. I can do it without the wires, but I needed to upgrade a few things, so the wires the way to go. It just handles more information quickly than the other way." Corrie tells her. Breathing deep she can smell how close Octavia's barrel is to her face. She surmises if she blows hard enough she'd tickle her ribs with her breath.

"And these?" Octavia asks. Pressing her hoof up and down gently on her back, slowly moving lower.

"Can't feel that." Corrie tells her. "Well, I can't, but the machines tell me your pressing on my back. I'm guessing the little dots?" She can feel Octavia's messy mane in her face brushing up and down now, slowly, nodding in agreement. "These are the contact points for the machines that put in my Move By Wire system." Corrie resettles in her chair again, trying to get comfortable. That surgery was, intense and horrible to say the least. Not a good memory.

"Hey. Sit on my lap?" Corrie asks the mare, still trailing her hoof up and down her back.

Octavia pulls back and gently legs her way onto the human woman's lap. She wasn't sure what Corrie was seeing, but it was hard watching her hazel eyes dart too and fro while she talked. Blushing to herself she felt bad for being grateful she closed her eyes while facing her to speak. Her legs folding behind the back of the little chair, she wiggles a bit to get comfortable. She feels Corrie gently wrap her right arm around her, holding her little frame. She feels her thumb idly rubbing on her back rubbing her little vertebrae, hand gently resting still.

"I spent a lot of time in surgeries. Most of my friends over there did too." Giving a little shrug. "You get used to it, mostly I suppose. It's got to be a little strange for you to see all this."

Octavia nods absentmindedly. "It is. I've never seen anything like it before on my world. Or anyone like you." She admits the last part quietly. "There is a lot I just don't understand." She finishes, leaning into the human.

Corrie adjusts her right arm into a makeshift hug. "It's okay. I can explain it all. The machines I mean. I don't have a clue how this whole relationship thing is supposed to work." Pulling back a little she rubs her cheek slowly onto Octavia's soft grey cheek. In a very small voice she continues "Momma used to sing me a song, over and over again, when the System was placed in my back. I was so scared. Her magic was always entwined in those songs. I can teach it to you if you want?"

"I'd like that Corrie. Very much." Octavia tells her.

Nodding once she releases her grip so Octavia can lean back to see her face. "There's only five little words you need to know. When I squeeze your hand. Hoof, sorry. Sing them with me, okay?"

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Author's Note

The song if your interested is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-BakWVXHSug