They entered Chowa in a sort of triumphial procession: not through anything they’d done, at least that day, but simply because ponies lined the streets from the outskirts of the city all the way to the amphitheater where they’d set up and play. The ponies stood in Neighponnese politeness, not blocking the way, not even cheering—but staring, rapt, as if they were already planning to tell their grandfoals ‘that was the day I watched Octavia and DJ Pon-3 perform for all of Neighpon’.
Big Macintosh’s ears were laid back as he pulled the cart, but apart from that he was not perturbed. He’d had mares stare at him that way before. Anyhoof, it was the cargo of the cart he pulled which bore the brunt of the attention. Continue reading →
For a while, Hina didn’t notice the little ponies following her. One rouge and blonde-maned, one pink and lime-maned, one cream and red-maned, all bore flowers for cutie marks and all trailed hesitantly behind the Kirin, torn between wanting her attention yet not wanting to be noticed by so fearsome a creature. Caught by some shared temptation, the three flower ponies crept furtively in Hina’s wake, their eyes huge and wide, the three making not a sound. Continue reading →
Just across the hallway of the cozy little pony house, the atmosphere of chaotically strewn records, stained futon and pristinely polished turntables gave way to an empty room with splendidly polished floor and no clutter at all. Instead, the room held a single cello and its counterpart, the equally curvaceous Octavia. Her trim little collar lay on the floor beside the industriously coupling musical pair, for Octavia sought inspiration and she’d let her mane down and gotten naked, the better to grapple with her musical challenges. Continue reading →