Oh Celestia she’s found a ladder
It was a crisp winter morning. Pockets of frost bloomed in window corners, fireplaces bundled up with aged logs and ashes, even the sun was still tucked underneath the horizon, waiting for that morning chill to pass.
And nestled between the already bustling Canterlot streets and the quiet, picturesque countryside hills, the little hamlet of Ponyville slowly wakes up.
Fresh snow falls on snow already fallen. Crisp, spotless frozen dunes that pile into white waves that will remain untreaded for hours to come.
Purples of night and yellows of sunrise, blend into the blues of snow and greens of spruce leaves. Roads are halfway melted, old snow shoveled and shunted to the sides, but a thin, fresh sheet billows over the sleepy town.
And as lanterns and candles slowly warm on mantles and windowsills, with coffee and tea sitting beside, we gaze upon a house, tucked just out of sight of the main street. Well-loved and well-lived in.
And upon this quiet morning, inside this quiet house, was a quiet mare, contentedly watching lazy drifts of snow blow across her yard.
Still bed-headed, a mug of lacquered coffee in one hoof, her scramble-egg soft robe tied around her waist, and a book tucked in the crook of her elbow.
It is still dark in the house, she no longer needed the kitchen light for her morning routine, though her now shiny blue bruise against her shin gifted from the kitchen table said otherwise.
Still, she managed. Coffee and book in hoof, and now gazing out in her favorite recliner as the first true morning of winter settled into town.
The only thing missing was a quiet symphony, slowly turning upon its black, vinyl stage. But alas, she did not want to risk waking up her partner, likely still snoring away in bed upstairs, earlier than needed, and really, enjoying the scenery with its natural serenity had its charm too.
Her mind drifted in and out of focus, sometimes on errands,— need to buy coffee grounds once again— sometimes on chores,— fix the broken tile on the roof before it really starts snowing— but it mostly was blank. Letting her savor the view of the snow in quiet, silent bliss.
But as her mind slowly grew more focused and her body sluggishly settled into wakefulness, did a tremor, as quick and sharp as hooves shaking off the cold, go out through the house.
Octavia paused, watching the ill-timed tremor, —though when were tremors ever well-timed— through the lens of the ripples inside her coffee cup.
A part of her, a particularly large, headache-shaped part, reassured her it was just typical Ponyville nonsense.
The crusaders perhaps? No, too early. Though they would definitely be getting into mischief of one kind or another on this snowy day. Hm, Pinkie? No, not zany enough. Plus the tremor didn’t have Pinkie’s signature “party canon” accompaniment.
Of course there was always…. No, surely not. It's still too early, Celestia’s sun had hardly even peaked over the covers of Canterlot, for goodness sake! Oh that headache-shaped part of her was really starting to stir up something fierce.
Whilst trying to massage her temples back into that placid serenity she knew deep down she wouldn’t be able to return to, another sizable tremor resounded throughout the neighborhood. Crescendoing with a heavy thwomp just outside her front door.
With a heavy-hearted groan, Octavia finally roused from her chair, bringing her coffee cup with her so it wouldn’t crash and break from any more tremors that snuck up on her.
Trotting into the kitchen she solemnly tucked her book into her bolted down and bolted shut bookcase, before putting her mug into a magnetized cozy on the counter so it wouldn’t spill.
Slipping on her galoshes with a hurried harrumph that made Granny Smith seem like Rainbow dash, she peeked out the window to see if anypony of ill-importance was making that racket.
But alas, seeing no one within sight, and the thwomps getting louder and louder, Octavia put on her most serious no-nonsense face she could manage with bed-ragged hair and minimal coffee, and opened the door.
Which was interrupted by a snow-white figure with a shock of blue hair, suddenly dropping from the sky in front of her, taking half a duvet of snow with her.
“OH SWEET BABY LUNA AND THE GROWN ONE TOO.” Octavia jerked back into the once quiet house before stepping outside again once she realized it was the normal idiocy and not the world-ending kind or one not covered by their house-insurance.
Hurriedly bundling her robe tighter to her chest, she set about clearing some of the snow away from Vinyl’s head, letting winter’s hooves dig into the soft warm innards of the house behind her. Then suddenly with a great big gasp, her partner, her muse, the electronic thorn in her side, Vinyl Scratch emerged, flopping out like a fish in a snow pile.
Octavia scarcely had time to let out a sigh of relief before a dreaded unraveling of cords sounded further up, and before she could give it a glance, a great sudden THWOMP to trump all past thwomps and would be thwomps, crashed down directly on top of her head in a great big heave of tangled Hearth’s warming lights.
Dazed and nearly toppled off her hooves, she shook the spots out of her vision and then picked up the damned lights, growing redder and redder in the face, until she could have been mistaken for doing a Big Mac impression.
“Of all the inane, idiotic, absurdly asinine things you could have done this morning-“ Octavia took a deep breath, as much as her lungs would take, screwed her eyes shut, and furrowed her brows in a rage only Vinyl could bring out of her. “ARE YOU REALLY PUTTING UP HEARTH’S WARMING LIGHTS RIGHT NOW?”
Vinyl from within her snowy prison, shrugged sheepishly, causing another bout of snow to fall on top of her.
Octavia wiped that snow off her, and quickly brought Vinyl up on her hooves with a great big huff. “You’re as mad as a bag of ferrets, you know? Putting up lights without a ladder, not even wearing any winter clothes! You’re going to get a cold and who will take care of you when you do? That's right, me.”
Octavia muttered angrily, pushing Vinyl into the warm confines of the house, leading her into the kitchen where she ushered Vinyl onto a stool whilst she shrugged her robe off to give to her muse.
“I know you love to put on that light show of yours every year for the foals, with all the decorations and the music, but it’s still November, Vinyl!” Octavia secured the robe around Viny’s waist not even realizing how the mare was staring oh so lovestruck at her, all the while she hemmed and hawed over Vinyl’s well-being. “There. That's better isn't it?” She looked up at those still love-lorn eyes but passed it over in the rush to avoid Vinyl getting sick. “Alright then, I’ll go start you a bath upstairs and I want you to drink something hot– no, boiled gatorade does not count, and-”
Pulling Octavia by her shoulders, Vinyl, a mare of few words but great affection for her lover, her muse, her twin flame, crashed their lips together in a great big kiss that spoke of a thousand affections that no words could do justice.
Octavia, shocked for all but a moment, leaned into the kiss almost immediately, Breathing in the scent of lemon with the taste of one of those horrid energy drinks Vinyl doesn't think she's noticed under their bed, on her tongue. It was messy, sloppy; a kiss her mother would have called ‘Improper.’ It was perfect.
Pulling away, Octavia sighed, the taste of chill from the snow still on her tongue as she stared into Vinyl’s eyes, with a dopey grin that only her love could pull out of her. “Oh, my muse,” she murmured, shaking her head slightly. “Even a kiss that good won’t get you out of taking a bath.”
Author's Note
stinky dj pony
