After a quick trip to the First (and only) Ponyville Bank, Nightsong happily followed Octavia along to the premier clothing-maker in the hamlet, Carousel Boutique. It took all she had not to pronk. Her bit purse was full to bursting, Octavia seemed to think of her as a real friend, or at least somepony she could speak to freely. Nightsong couldn’t keep the smile off her muzzle, even when she caught Octavia grinning over at her as they walked. This had been a good day so far.

The Boutique was one of the taller buildings in Ponyville, and absolutely the most gaudy. A riot of pinks, golds, and whites struck Nightsong’s sensitive eyes, and she squinted even behind her goggles. It didn’t help that it was a clear day, and the sun was shining down on the structure like it a Cloudsdalian cityscape.

“How can you all stand that?” she grumbled softly, ears laying back as she peeked over at Octavia, who was smirking at her, “It’s so bright!”

“Believe me, what Rarity puts out in terms of clothing is entirely worth the eye-sore that is her building,” Octavia replied cheerfully, “You’ll see.”

Nightsong nodded slowly and gulped, biting her lip. She actually had not been in many custom-clothing stores, as they were rare in the backwaters she was used to, and those that were there did not like her business. But if Octavia vouched for this place… She hurried in as Octavia nudged the door open, shooting her a smile as the earth pony held the door for her.

The inside was clean and, thankfully, not… as bright. Nightsong perked thoughtfully at the mannequins and racks of clothes, most of them rather bright and pastel. Not that that was necessarily a bad thing, but she was used to darker traveling clothes.

“Welcome to Carousel Boutique, darling!” rang out a melodious Canterlotian voice, not quite as cultured as Octavia’s but pleasant enough, “Where everything is- ah, Octavia!”

A slender, beautiful unicorn trotted in from a side room, a few aura’d tools quickly zipping from behind her back to settle on a nearby table. Her coat was a pure white, marred only by three blue diamonds on each flank. A violet mane, currently up in a business-like bun, shone in the bright light of the store, and Nightsong had to hold back a whistle of awe. This town was not fair; it was a treasure trove of beautiful mares!

A warm smile graced that pretty muzzle as the shopkeep, who must be the Rarity Octavia had mentioned, darted over to give Octavia a friendly hug, which Nightsong’s guide returned with gusto.

“It is good to see you too, Rarity,” Octavia said once they had stepped back, beaming, “I apologize for not coming by more; Vinyl and I’s touring seasons have only just ended.”

But Rarity waved off the explanation with a soft negating noise, grinning over at Nightsong, azure eyes bright and curious.

“It’s quite alright, darling, I know how busy you both have been. But now, who’s this? A new friend?”

“This is Nightsong,” Octavia replied quickly, winking at the mare as she waved to Rarity, “She’s mine and Vinyl’s new roommate, and needs a few new outfits.”

“J-just something functional!” Nightsong squeaked out, eyes widening at the glee filling Rarity’s expression, “F-for going around town, o-or seeing Octavia play maybe…”

Oooh, wrong thing to say. Now they were both giving her that look. ...ooh right. Classical music venues often liked tasteful outfits. The two mares exchanged looks.

“Hrm. Dress and jacket?”

“Certainly. She can pull off masculine and feminine, I do imagine. No head-wear, but perhaps some jewelry for her ears.”

“Mmm. I agree.”

The tingle of magic surrounded Nightsong in an instant, and she suppressed a surprised meep as she was floated over to the center of the room. Octavia shot her a playful wink- before the batpony’s eyes were covered by measuring tape. Nightsong had to admit, Rarity had some fine magic control. At least five different objects were flying all about her, measuring and marking and scribbling on paper… but not a one hit Nightsong, or even brushed along her fur. As her nerves calmed, Nightsong had to admit… she was rather impressed!

“Your people’s aesthetic is so exotic, my dear,” Rarity hummed out cheerfully as she walked in circles around Nightsong, eyes on each mark on her papers, “Band or Rookery?”

Nightsong jerked slightly in surprise, vaguely impressed again as the tools easily followed her movements, and stared at Rarity. She gave the batpony an easy smile.

“Oh darling, I’ve studied the fashion of every major culture in Equestria, thanks to dear Twilight,” she explained quickly, “Manehatten unicorns, Trottingham, batpony traveller bands, the Thestral Rookeries, Equestrian Gryphons… do you have a preference, Nightsong?”

Heh, well... It had been quite awhile since she had had any kind of clothing from home. Nightsong slowly trailed a hoof along the floor, letting out a quiet breath.

“If… you could, Rarity,” she began softly, “Maybe a Band-style working dress, with the colors of the Riski clan. A-and uh… a Rookery dance dress, Clan… Clan Night colors. And a… a jacket, same colors.”

“Ah, lovely ideas, darling! I’ll get started right away. You may step away now.”

Nightsong smiled weakly at Octavia as she stepped back, noting the curiosity shining in her new friend’s eyes.

“Later,” she mouthed, blushing in relief as Octavia nodded, and began to look through some of the hanging clothes.

The now-free batpony did the same, smiling slowly as she looked through Rarity’s selection; the unicorn had hurried off to what Nightsong assumed was her workroom, and the sounds of a sewing machine going nonstop drifted over. The mare was certainly dedicated! Nightsong knew that feeling well; a true craftspony fell in love with every piece they put out to the public, and she could see Rarity’s love in every stitch.

“What do you think of this, Nightsong?” Octavia asked from her side of the shop, “Sort of mid-spring in Prance, don’t you think?”

Nightsong peered back at her friend- and froze, purple slitted eyes going wide, and there was nothing the young batpony could do to forestall a blush. Octavia had donned a black beret, with a little purple-blue gem set on one side. A grey and black scarf was wrapped around her neck, complimenting her fur and beret nicely, with the end hanging midway to the floor.

Woof.

A surprised look flashed through her friend’s eyes- only to be replaced by a crafty little grin, one that did nothing to help the spluttering batpony regain her composure.

“That bad?” Octavia whispered faux-poutily, tail swishing to one side almost sadly.

“No!” Nightsong managed, feeling her wings lift up slightly in her haste, “N-no, not at all. It… you look…”

Her hoof slid over the floor a few times before she could continue, shooting Octavia a shaky little smile, “It looks great, Octavia. You should get that. V-vinyl would love it, I bet.”

Her heart soared at the surprised, yet warm smile she was given at that. Octavia’s eyes sparkled in the light when she was happy…

Easy, Nightsong. Taken mare. And your hopeful friend! You’ll find somepony, eventually.

The town hall was another of the larger buildings near the center of Ponyville; a sort of double-topped carousel building that seemed to be in style in the village. The cream paint and red roofing were, at least, rather welcoming, and relaxed Nightsong- slightly- as she stepped through the door, Octavia close behind. The waiting area had several rows of seats for busier days, though at the moment it seemed to be nearly abandoned. A desk was settled in front of the doors that led deeper into a hall, and a pink-coated Earth Pony was boredly typing away at her typewriter. Her green eyes barely flicked up at the mares as they approached.

“Can I help you?” she asked distractedly, reaching up to twist the roll on her typewriter,
“Need the name of the local inn?”

Nightsong blinked slightly but quickly shook her head, “No miss, I’m actually looking to purchase a business and vendor license. I have a w-”

“Look, hun, we don’t need anymore junk-peddlers in Ponyville, we don’t have the market space, and we try to keep the place lookin’ respectable,” the mare interrupted, giving Nightsong a cursory look-over: one that focused on her wings.

She blinked as she saw Nightsong began to bristle, waving a hoof placatingly, “My apologies. Tinker is the right word, yeah? Yeah. Look, I’ll get you the T-32 form for wherever you’ve shacked up, make sure the constables don’ bother you while you’re in town.”

Nightsong grit her teeth slightly, fangs poking past her lips. She hated dealing with town bureaucracies. She’d have to take a constable out to her wagon just to prove her work, most likely. And pay a little extra for the trouble, if the town government was like Gallop Creek. But before she could respond, Octavia cleared her throat and stepped forward, violet eyes glaring down at the now-surprised secretary.

“Ahem! She sells instruments, Write-Up,” she told her icily, “I have recently bought one myself, and have the receipt for it. They are excellent works, and Ponyville would be better to have them in-”

“We don’t need anymore consignment set ups either, Miss-”

“She MAKES them!” Octavia snapped back, ears laid forward in anger, “If you had bothered to let her finish! Nightsong here is a craftspony, and a superb one at that. She is living with Vinyl and I, as a paying roommate, so her tax forms can be sent there. Now… the file, if you please.”

The two mares stared each other down; Octavia’s eyes cold and resolute, while Write-Up’s turned from surprise to humiliated anger. She rose up from her seat slowly, forehooves propped on the desk as she strained to be eye-level with the taller Octavia. Nightsong gulped thickly, alarm bells ringing in her head.

“That is enough, Write-Up.”

The secretary’s face paled in a heartbeat as she dropped to the floor, spinning around- her short-cut tail tucked between her legs.

“M-mayor Mare!”

An older mare stared over at the trio with a mix of disgust and annoyance; Nightsong was not quite sure if it was directed at herself yet. She shifted her legs, ready to grab Octavia’s tail and sprint if she called for the guard. In her experience, a mayor getting involved with batponies tended to end in jail.

“I apologize for the inconvenience, Octavia,” the mayor said firmly, shouldering the stunned clerical pony aside as she began to leaf through a set of folders, “And to you as well…”

Dark blue eyes flickered up to look the surprised batpony over, and she smiled softly at her as she held out a few forms, “Nightsong, correct?”

...huh.

“Y-yes ma’am, Nightsong,” she stammered out, extending a wingclaw to take the papers.

“Excellent. Fill those out and keep them with you; I will take them myself later on.”

The older mare casted a cold eye back at the frowning, blushing secretary, “When I come to see your wares myself.”

“Thank you very much, Madam Mayor,” Octavia jumped in with as she spotted Nightsong’s stunned look, “Nightsong will appreciate that greatly. Have a good day!”

A few gentle nudges got the mare’s brain restarted, and Nightsong practically tripped over herself to get outside. She closed her eyes and took a few shaky breaths. Well that went better than expected, but…

“I’m so sorry, Octavia,” she spoke up quickly, peering sheepishly over at her friend, “I didn’t mean for you to be dragged into that…”

Octavia was… still, head turned towards the hall and not responding. Nightsong gulped and pawed the ground nervously, ears folding back.

‘Oh no…’

“I-I won’t bring drama like that home, Octavia,” she managed after a moment’s thought, cursing mentally, “I’ll make sure it just-”

“Nightsong.”

Octavia’s firm, quiet voice stopped Nightsong dead as she turned her head to catch Nightsong’s eye. In the light of the late morning sun, her expression was like that of a noble patrician in the heights of Canterlot, about to command something of a servant. That firmness got a little shiver out of Nightsong’s back legs.

“Do not ever allow ponies to speak to you that way,” Octavia told her firmly, ears perked and quivering in repressed emotion, “Or to blame yourself for their racism. It poisons your soul. Trust me on this.”

Pink eyes clouded over for a split second before that authoritative mask was replaced, and the sleek Earth Pony stepped over to hug Nightsong with all her strength. The batpony gave a sheepish little squeak, trying to will her blush away- and to not collapse as she felt several vertebrae pop and crackle.

‘Octavia would make for a heck of a masseuse.’

“I am your friend, Nightsong,” Octavia whispered in her ear, giving a more gentle squeeze with her forelegs, “And I will be here to help you. So will Vinyl. Nopony else will treat you like that without consequences.”

‘Who’s cutting onions?’

The young batpony mare slowly wrapped her forelegs around her friend in turn, leaning her head into her soft fur and new scarf. For once, her anxiety over hugging a mare was… down. Still there, but… down.

Maybe things will be okay after all.

Next Chapter: Chapter 4 Estimated time remaining: 54 Minutes