//------------------------------//
// Prologue  
// Story: Escapement: Time Flies on Clockwork Wings 
// by Owlor 
//------------------------------//

Octavia was steaming with rage. Something inside resonated through her and trough the large but desolate hotel room she currently called her home. It wasn't apprehension, or at least that's what she told herself. She just felt extremely restless, and her thoughts stubbornly refused to gather themselves.

She had been invited to play at the opening of the World's Fair, and if the show wasn't held in such high esteem, if princess Celestia hadn't personally encouraged her, she would've said no, and possibly some other, less wholesome words as well. 

They wanted to compare mechanically created music with the real thing, they had told her, and that meant she had to duo with some kind of... machine that some greasy engineer had designed. And to top it all off, she was required to play the violin rather than her cello.

There were a lot of ponies that had an interested in the outcome and the event coordinators were, she suspected, trying to intentionally disadvantage her by requiring her to use a small, fiddly instrument, unsuitable for her earth pony hooves. It was a damn circus act, she could see that clear as a bright summer's day, but her pride prevented her from turning the offer down.

She pressed a hoof down on a button next to the bed. A pained cry emitted from the miniature loudspeaker next to it, offensive to her trained musician's ears.

“What can I do for you, ma'am?” a raspy voice greeted her, the unsteady voice of a late-blooming teenager amplified amongst artificial cracks and hisses. 

“You know the luggage I put in the storage room, number 108?” she asked. “Bring that to me.”

“Yes ma'am, right away.”

The young bellhops voice were completely drowned out in noise, then the transmission ended with a harsh click, leaving behind nothing but a deafening silence.

A few minutes later, there was a knock on the door, and Octavia opened it. The  bellhop was standing outside her room with a violin case in her mouth. The case was decorated by stickers from across Equestria, and the edges were roughed and worn. Octavia accepted the violin case and waited for the bellhop to leave, but the pony just smiled at her.

“You're that pony who's going to play at the World's Fair, aren't you?” he asked, still holding the violin.

“Yes,” Octavia said plainly.

“Oh boy, it's going to be so cool, I'm rooting for you. Is this the violin you'll use for the duet?”

“Duo,” she corrected. “And no, nopony is allowed to touch that one but me,” she added. “And if anypony as much as look at that one without my explicit permission, I will personally disembowel them and use their guts for strings.” She may have intended the last part as a joke, but the words had an unexpectedly rough edge to them.

“That one is a genuine Guar-mare-ius,” she continued. “One of the finest. No, this violin here you could get at any second hand store in Canterlot. But it's still precious to me, so please be careful!”

The hotel pony had looked ready to just unceremoniously drop the violin down on the ground, but corrected himself and put it down carefully. 

“So, not a Strato-various then?” he asked, sounding slightly dissapointed.

“No, those may be the only instrument-making family that's captured the imagination of pop culture, but their actual craftsmareship is highly overrated. Well-made, to be sure, but plain-sounding. No, the  Guar-mare-ius violins may be less sturdy, but they also have a much warmer sound.... why are you still here?” she asked at the end of her lecture.

“Waiting for a tip, ma'am” the pony said honestly. Octavia pressed a shiny bit in his hoof. He thanked her politely and left.

Once again, she was alone in this wretched room. The silence was the worst part, hence why she sent for her instrument. what made Octavia hold this violin in such high regard was the simple fact that it was the first violin she had ever truly owned . She's had it since she was a filly and its slightly hollow, melancholic sound was more comforting to her than the finest chocolate in all of Equestria.

She put the bow against the strings and began playing. The notes that emerged  was simple, nearly insultingly so for somepony who could play “Sonata in G Minor” in her sleep. But they were very, very good notes, the kind you could make an entire music carrier out of.

The room instantly felt a little less oppressive, this soft melody was like a blanket around her, warm and comforting and the notes echoed through her mind long after she had put the violin down and gotten to sleep on the lumpy hotel room bed.