Private Gig
by NavyPony
Op. 1, Movt 3
Intimo
After nearly five hours of frenzied activity, Twilight’s birthday party began to wrap up; the afternoon wore into evening, and all but a few ponies trickled out, each offering their thanks and congratulations. The first to leave were those whose jobs necessitated an early departure – the nurses, one or two of the mail ponies, a change of shift for cloud patrol, and the like. Then it was those with foals at home – Carrot and Cup Cake and their compatriots; Fluttershy fell into a similar vein, apologizing profusely as she went to take care of her animal companions. Not much later, parents started pulling their fillies and colts away, citing the need to eat something more balanced than just pastries for dinner. Rainbow Dash left with most of the casual guests, heading out for weather duty just before Pinkie Pie started to organize cleanup. That complete, the pink mare left, as well, heading back to Sugarcube Corner for incomprehensible but painstakingly-explained reasons. Before long, the library was almost empty.
“Sure has cleared out,” Applejack commented to nopony in particular, sipping at some punch as she leaned against a bookshelf. “Almost seems like normal for this place, don’t it?”
“Actually, it’s still busier than usual,” Twilight responded, not a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “Not that I’m complaining, just that that it’s usually only Spike and me, and right now there’s… hey…” She scanned the ground floor of the library with a perplexed expression before calling over the background music, “Spike? Spike!?” When the young dragon failed to answer she turned back to her friends. “Have either of you seen Spike?”
Rarity’s reply was emphasized by a nod and a delicate smile. “I have, actually. I believe that uh, somepony, invited him to spend the night at Fluttershy’s Cottage. She’s taking care of Sweetie Belle tonight, you see, and not that Fluttershy isn’t a fabulous individual, but I fear Sweetie would’ve been bored senseless without another friend. Plus,” Rarity added, an awkward sort of lilt in her voice, “you’ll be wanting some privacy tonight…”
“Privacy?” Applejack and Twilight said simultaneously, both with similarly confused looks on their faces.
“Well… don’t worry about it, then.” Rarity aimed a surreptitious glance across the library, where its last occupant, the musician Octavia, was still playing away on her cello. “Although I must ask, have you spoken to Miss van Clef as of yet?”
Twilight failed to suppress a blush when the performer’s name was mentioned. “What? That’s… I mean, no. It’s just, she hasn’t stopped playing, and I didn’t want to interrupt her, and…” She shrugged and tapped a hoof against the ground timidly. “I thought it’d be a shame to make her stop playing just because I wanted to talk to her.”
“Uhh, Twilight?” Applejack interjected, draining the last of her punch. “Ya mean to say she came all the way here to play, and ya haven’t even spoke to the mare? Why dontcha invite her to join us and enjoy a slice o’ some cake and to chat with us or somethin’? Ah’m sure she’d appreciate it, and from what Ah’ve heard, you’d like the chance to meet her, right?”
Nopony heard Rarity mutter the word, “Privacy…” under her breath.
“Of course…” Twilight took two steps across the library before stopping in her tracks. “It’s just, I don’t want to interrupt her playing… Should I wait until she finishes the song?”
Much to the surprise of everypony else present, Octavia was the one to answer. “That won’t be necessary,” the grey mare intoned softly, neither opening her eyes nor missing a beat in her song. “I’m quite capable of carrying on a conversation while playing. And on the subject of which, good evening Miss Twilight Sparkle. Have you enjoyed your evening thus far?”
Finally summoning the courage to speak, Twilight marched across the room, her friends close on her heels. “Certainly! It was spectacular. You were spectacular. Thank you for coming.”
“Wouldja like something to eat?” Applejack inserted. “Ya must be famished after all that playin’, and there’s plenty o’ leftovers ‘round here. Or somethin’ to drink, perhaps? We got punch and the like.”
“That’s very kind of you to offer, but I am quite fine,” the musician said softly, moving into an elegant and legato stretch of her song, “Might I ask your name, Miss…”
“The name’s Applejack, but mah friend’s call me ‘AJ’. This here’s Rarity,” the farmer motioned towards the seamstress, who seemed to be doing her best to remain silent, “and this’s Twi, but I guess y’already know who she is, it bein’ her birthday and all.”
“In a certain capacity,” the mare replied, a mercurial quality to both her voice and her face. “Although not quite in the same manner as many of my other clients. I look forward to getting to know her better. If you’re amiable, that is?” She asked, turning towards Twilight with a charming smile.
Standing in front of her friend, Twilight couldn’t see the expression on Rarity’s face; otherwise, she would’ve been too distracted to reply. “Of course I’d like to get to know you better!” she declared. “When do you have to leave? I mean, I don’t want to monopolize your time if you intend to catch the late train back to Canterlot, or anything.”
Octavia responded with an airy laugh which perfectly complimented her music. “I’m here at your pleasure, Twilight Sparkle. Far be it from monopolizing, you’re more than entitled to my time. I have no expectations of returning to Canterlot until sometime tomorrow.”
Twilight was mystified, Applejack was concerned, and Rarity was just as composed as she desired.
“But…”
“Eh?”
“Ahem. Perhaps it’s time for me to be going… I do have quite a lot of work to do, after all, and the night isn’t getting younger. AJ?” She threw a less-than-subtle hoof over the earth pony’s shoulders. “Perhaps it’s time that-”
“Nah, hold on a sec,” Applejack butted in, dismissing her friend’s suggestion and throwing the hoof off her back. “Miss Octavia, you’re aware that Ponyville don’t rightly have an inn o’ any sort? Do y’all got plans ‘bout where you’ll be spending the night? ‘Cuz if not, Sweet Apple Acres’ve got a couple o’ rooms available. Breakfast, too, if you’re okay with traditional fare. We’re kinda south by southwestish of here, y’know.”
“Applejack,” Rarity pronounced through clenched teeth, “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”
Octavia was about to say something charming and kind, but Twilight’s enthusiasm beat the other mare’s decorum. “Of course it won’t be a problem! I have a guest bed!” the unicorn pronounced happily, referring to the same piece of furniture Rarity and Applejack had shared during Twilight’s first sleepover. “If that’s okay with you, I mean? It’s probably not what you’re used to, but…”
“I imagine it will be perfectly satisfactory.” Octavia said, managing a smile that was simultaneously coy, coquettish, and too nuanced for anypony other than Rarity to fully understand. “Now, do any of you have any requests? With such a minute audience, it’s rather difficult guessing what might be well-received… with the songs that is,” she added with a flourish of her bow.
“Actually, Ah’ve always been a fan o’ Pachelbuck’s-”
“Ahem,” Rarity repeated, once more throwing a forehoof over the other pony’s shoulders. “I think it’s time that we took our leave. As I was saying, Applejack, I imagine the two of them will be-”
“But…”
“Privacy,” she hissed.
~~~~~ ~~~~~ ~~~~~
Even after Applejack and Rarity had left, the musician kept on playing, finishing her song. When that was finished, she asked if Twilight had any particular requests while it was just them. With characteristic decisiveness, the young mare declared that yes, she did, if Octavia knew it. Hayndel’s Passacaglia was usually interpreted as a duet, but…
She did. Octavia kept her eyes closed until the piece was finished, lifting her bow from the cello’s strings and letting the last note fade into oblivion, and instigating an impulsive hoof-stomp from her audience. It was an energetic ovation, and typical of Twilight’s natural vivacity, but it was still appropriately quiet. They were alone in a library, after all. “Brava, brava,” Twilight gasped, just loudly enough to be heard above her applause. “That song is… it’s…”
“It’s a little bit more serious than my clients usually like,” Octavia inserted, just as Twilight was beginning to struggle to find a suitable description. “Not counting the Suites, that is, but they’re the definitive cello solos. At any rate, I probably like this piece more for the fact that I get to play it so rarely; I’m glad you appreciated it.”
“What?” the unicorn interjected, rising from the reclining position she’d maintained during the performance. “I’m glad I appreciated it! I, hmm… I intended that to be smarter sounding than it really was.”
Octavia took Twilight’s words with an amused smile and an effervescent chuckle, but changed the subject. With all the refinement assumed of a Canterlot sophisticate and far more than typically possessed, she asked, “Do you have any other requests – musical or…” She trailed off with a rolling hoof motion, not so much searching for the right word as pretending to do so. “… Or otherwise?”