A Missing Note

by Croswynd

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

So many voices. The market square is filled with them, all crawling atop one another like little insects, a buzz in my ear. It sets my teeth on edge. I'm not normally one for crowds, but today is different. Today, I'm making an exception.

After all, what harm can one more attempt at mingling with all the other ponies do?

Somepony bumps into me at that moment, sending me careening to the side at the suddenness of the collision. I manage to save myself the embarrassment of the fall but that doesn't help me any, now that I'm totally lost. My assailant mutters a quick apology before moving on, disappearing in the buzz of the crowd. I can feel bodies pressing in around me, the scent of sweat mixing with the last of the pies and sweets. It’s stifling, confusing, and different.

I hate it. Why am I out here? Is it worth it? Yes, it is.

I mercilessly stamp down any doubts, my thoughts racing through my head a mile a minute. I’m not about to turn around and go through this awful crowd again. Besides, I should be close to my destination. Key words 'should be'.

Luckily, Fiere trumpets a whistling song at that moment, serving as a goal. From the sound of his grumbling serenade, he's a few meters in front of me and I move forward accordingly, flinching uncomfortably at every clip-clop of hooves near me. The cobblestone of the market is hot beneath my own hooves, yet another problem I wouldn't have if I were in the forest instead of in town.

Another guiding chirp reaches me, clear ahead, mingling with the soft trickling of running water. I nose my way forward, head down to hide behind my mane. It falls about my face, twitching slightly in the wind and tickling my nose.

A cool mist begins to play about me, teasing at my coat and no doubt sending my hair into an unruly frizz. I stop at another beseeching blat from Fiere, the brisk scent of the fountain reshoring my shambling confidence. I turn my face up to catch a bit of the mist on my neck, cooling down from the press of the crowd, even if I am still technically surrounded.

My guide jumps on my head suddenly, pecking idly at the strands of hair in front of my face while I think. If I’m at the fountain, then that means I’m in the center of the square... so if I want to find the music booth—

A sharp, piercing pain hits me with a wave of sound, high pitched and keening, sending my companion fluttering into the air with shock. I recognize the screech instantly, having grown up around an experimental speaker my dad kept at home. Thankfully, the unpleasant sound shuts off abruptly after a few seconds.

“Sorry, everypony!” a familiar voice calls out guiltily over the grumbling filling the market square. “My bad.”

Annoyed complaints from a few of the ponies nearby answer the mare’s apology, though one stallion attempts to defuse the tension in the air. “That’s alright, Vinyl. Your music is worth the occasional broken eardrum.”

A pit of nervousness runs through my chest as a few in the crowd begin to lightheartedly chortle. Oh no...

“Oh, thanks a ton, Easy. You—”

“Still, your music does cause the occasional broken eardrum by itself, DJ,” the stallion continues with a grin plain in his tone, sarcastic emphasis on the last word. The grumbling disappears in a haze of chuckles, but I’m more focused on my fear rapidly blooming into reality.

I start breathing a little faster, my mind flashing back to the conversations yesterday. My rudeness, bluntness, even revealing how I feel... and I was talking to Vinyl Scratch the entire time? Here in Hoofington, she’s one of the more popular musicians—somewhat of a celebrity since she used to live here before her lifestyle took her elsewhere. Even I know of her, despite not having listened to her records.

Something swishes through the air, drawing me out of my panicked thoughts. My ear flicks toward the sudden sound and, before I can react, the mysterious object splashes into the fountain beside me, droplets of cold water peppering my coat. Fiere squawks in surprise, still flapping somewhere above me.

“Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” Vinyl gasps, her hoofsteps trotting closer. “Wait! You’re that filly! Current! Oh, wow, I totally need to watch what I do before I do it. Octy tells me that all the time.”

I grimace, hoping nopony else is looking at me. It’s a futile hope, of course, since a celebrity recognizing me is enough to send more than a few voices whispering in surprise. I try to shrink in on myself, but Vinyl’s disorienting perfumes finally hit my nose just as her hoofsteps stop in front of me.

“Now where is that screwdriver?” the mare continues, the sound of splashing reaching my ears. “Hmm, there it is. So, yeah, what’s up Current? You here to hang out?”

“Um. I don’t know,” I say. I really don’t know why I’m here and my head is starting to spin despite the fountain’s coolness and I can’t think and— “It’s getting really hot...”

A stallion’s heavy hoofbeats begin clicking against the cobblestone nearby. “Whoa there, you look like you’re about to fall over. Vinyl, help me bring her to the booth.”

The splashing stops. “What? Why, what’s wrong? Oh, wow, you look really pale.”

“Ju-just dizzy.” My mouth feels like it’s moving through molasses. “Not used to these... crowds.”

“Hey, c’mere,” the stallion says with concern tinging his tone. “We’re going to put you in the shade before you pass out.”

I nod, gulping and attempting to resist the urge to throw up. “Need help. Can’t see.”

A strong hoof takes hold of my shoulder, guiding me closer to the stallion. “I’ll help. Come along. Vinyl, don’t crowd so close to her. She’s stifled enough as it is.”

“Well sorry for being concerned!” the mare snaps at the stallion before a flutter of wings sounds from above. “Hey, what are you doing? Stop it! I’m trying to help!”

With the stallion’s gentle touch as a guide, accompanied by Fiere’s audible pecking, we quickly manage to reach what I imagine is the music booth. Behind us, the buzz of the marketplace resumes now that I’m no longer such a spectacle, though there were more than a few snorts of amusement at Fiere’s heckling of Vinyl.

I sigh as we move into the shade, the unwelcome nausea evaporating slowly from my stomach. It’s cool here, the muted hum of a fan sending bursts of air through my mane and along my coat. The curious remnant of mingling colognes fill the area, along with the lacquer of new instruments. Soon enough, Fiere lands on my head with a grumble, no longer amused with attacking my newest... friend?

“Alright, you should be fine now.” The stallion’s voice is smooth and comforting, absent of the sarcasm he had directed at Vinyl earlier. “Just rest for a few more minutes before you try to walk. I know how hot it can get here in Hoofington, especially after the rain yesterday.”

“Definitely one of the bigger reasons I was glad to leave,” Vinyl puts in dryly. “So, uh, sorry I didn’t notice you were kind of uncomfortable out there. I’m sorta used to the press of a bunch of bodies all in one place—comes with the territory of being a DJ, you know. Good thing Easy was here.”

Just the thought of being back in the mass of ponies was enough to make me cringe. “I’m not good with crowds. Thank you.”

The stallion laughs from my left. “No need to thank me, Current. I’ve got two little brothers and a couple of sisters who react the same way, so I know what crowds do to little ones. Name’s Rest Easy, by the way. Seems you already know Vinyl.”

“Um,” I respond uncertainly. “I actually didn’t know who she was until just a few minutes ago.”

“Huh?” both of them reply at once, surprise evident in their tones.

I hang my head, trying to hide behind my mane, to Fiere’s annoyance. The bird adjusts himself with a quiet flap and resumes his grumbling while I try and think of what to say.

To my surprise, Easy laughs again, genuine amusement laced through the sound. “Oh, that’s rich. You didn’t recognize Vinyl? Ha! That should deflate her ego a bit.”

“Hey! I don’t have an ego!” the mare replies heatedly, the sound of her horn activating like a fizz of soda pop.

“Oh really?” Easy’s response is filled with amused doubt. “Then that time a fan recognized me over you didn’t bother you. You just wanted to sulk the rest of the day for fun. By the way, move the speaker over there.”

Vinyl growls reluctantly, the sound of a heavy object bumping against metal just audible. “Okay, maybe I have a little ego.”

Despite myself, a small snort escapes me in time with Easy’s own.

“Anyway,” the mare’s voice was filled with warning, “like he said, my friend’s name is Easy. He’s a musician I know through another mutual friend. Plays the violin, or so he says. Honestly, the only time I ever see him sawing anything is when he’s sleeping.”

My ears perk up at that—violins are my favorite instruments, though no one around here besides my dad ever played one. It was so peaceful listening to those lonely strings, free and uncluttered, just like nature’s layered song. Every day my dad woke up, pulled out his violin and began to play. It was always the same tune, always the same melody of words. Unchanging, unaffected by summer or spring, winter or fall. The same...

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, no need to tear up,” Easy starts concernedly. “I actually do play the violin.”

I can’t control the tears welling in my eyes, a sick feeling forming in the pit of my stomach. “It’s not that. I’m sorry.”

A gentle hoof brushes my mane out of my face. “Hey, now, s’okay. You’re a little shook up, but you’re gonna be fine. Hmm. Vinyl, grab my case.”

“Yeah, okay,” the mare responds, strangely subdued. “Here.”

Easy grunts his thanks, the click of locks snapping open loud even over the marketplace’s buzz. An aroma of maple and spruce, both sweet and rich at the same time, fills the booth. It’s hypnotizing, nostalgia coursing through my mind as I involuntarily breathe in deeper. There’s a plink of strings, my sensitive ears flicking at the minute discrepancies in tune, followed by silence. Then Easy begins to play.

“Whisper now your tithing fears,

that lie ‘tween your little ears,

speak to me and listen close,

for though we stand appose,

I am here for you to see,

so I whisper such to be.

And sing. My head is spinning again, this time with memories. The melody of string and bow, sweet bitterness sliding from the instrument in a constant stream of heartfelt legato sends aches through my heart. The spectral, riverlike melancholia flows from the instrument in Easy’s hooves, his voice smooth and hopeful one moment, deep and coarse the next. I can hear a simple smile in his song, the joy of life woven throughout.

“Lift your heart through the endless sky,

fly ‘round the clouds way on high,

Spin round in the fields of green,

feel no fear of the unforseen,

for I am here for you to see,

so I whisper such to be.

Speak through the days of deep,

‘neath the waters of dreamland sleep,

whisked away through the torrent,

wish for me and I’ll be I warrant,

for I am always here for you to see.

So I whisper such to be.”

The stallion finishes his song on a last, keening note, his voice a whisper. A warm, fuzzy feeling envelopes my heart, the words resounding in my head. Even if it is just another of his songs, it feels like he was speaking directly to me. The passion in both his performance and vocals leaves me breathless.

It’s then that I notice the insect-like buzzing of the marketplace has fallen silent. Only the gurgling fountain pierces the quiet with its joyful splashes; even the birds have ceased their whistling melodies.

Suddenly, somepony stomps the ground and the applause starts, slow at first but building up into what feels like a stampede. It’s enough to send a vibration through the world and give me a headache.

The cheers die down enough for Easy’s voice to be heard. “Thank you, thank you! Glad you all like it! It’s just something I came up with a few days ago.”

“I think it’s grand!” a voice in the crowd calls out, to more applause.

“Well, that’ll be five bits per pony then!” Easy responds with a clear grin in his tone.

Laughter ripples through the crowd and the noise of bartering and motion resumes. I draw in a deep breath and let it out in a ragged sigh, glad to not be the center of attention again. Even with the fan, I can feel the sweat sticking in my fur and mane.

“So... did you like it?”

Easy’s voice startles me, almost sending me into a tumble with its proximity. Fiere squawks, wings flapping as he tries to stabilize himself on my mane. I can smell the scent of the stallion’s violin on him, but there is another aroma overpowering that, some deep scent that sends my mind fluttering away like a swarm of disorganized butterflies.

It takes all my concentration to respond. “Y-yes. It was... so...” I flounder for words.

“Magical?” Vinyl puts in, sarcasm dripping from the word as she continues setting up.

I nod fiercely. “Yes! It sounded like magic! It was so mournful and at the same time so... sweet.”

“Oh, yeah? Please, continue, continue,” the stallion says, sounding pleased with himself.

My fluttering mind struggles to come up with anything more to say. Fortunately, Vinyl is more than capable of supplying her own commentary.

“The last few lines were sloppy, there was too much power in your strokes and I think you might have missed a note right at the beginning,” the unicorn celebrity pronounces flatly. “Nerves, probably.”

Easy hissed in a breath. “Ah, you wound me, Vinyl. Nopony’s perfect.”

“You sure try to act like it,” she replies in repartee, banging wood against the cobblestone. “Oops. Anyway, not my kind of music, but it wasn’t terrible. Octy could play it better, though.”

A question springs to my mind. “Who’s ‘Octy’?”

There are more plinks of strings being tuned as Vinyl responds. “Oh, she’s this super cool pony I met back in college. Totally one of the best musicians in Equestria—plays in all kinds of frou frou, high class dinners and social events. Bit of a snob on the outside, but with a soft, nougat-y core on the inside. Got a flank like you wouldn’t belie—”

“Vinyl!” Easy admonishes, the screech of hooves against strings setting my teeth on edge. “She’s a filly!”

“Oh, right, heh. Sorry.” The unicorn sounds embarrassed.

Easy clears his throat. “As the rude little DJ was saying, Octavia, that’s her full name, is one of our mutual friends. She was actually the reason Vinyl and I met. At one of those ‘frou frou, high class dinners’, wasn’t it?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me.”

I can just imagine the mare’s boredom at an event like that. I had to attend a few of them back when dad was... still playing. Before I can continue down that old trail of memories, a peck from Fiere draws my attention back to the conversation.

“...and you made such a nice young mare of yourself, too. You should take more tips from Octavia, V. She’s a smart one,” Easy continues as if lecturing a student. “At any rate, Octavia is a master cellist who’s played at quite a few events, including last year’s Grand Galloping Gala.”

Vinyl guffaws. “Oh, yeah, wish I could have been there.” The unicorn clears her throat, imitating a posher, high class accent. “‘And this outrageous pink pony actually asked me to play the Pony Pokey! The Pony Pokey! Oh, it was dreadful. And don’t get me started on the way one of that... that unprofessional mare’s friends absolutely ruined the Gala in front of the Princess. The Princess, Vinyl, of all Equestria! I almost died!’”

“Yes, that’s our Octavia,” Easy says with a long-suffering sigh. “So how about you, Current? What do you like to do?”

Normally that would be one of the questions I’d hate to answer, but for some reason I don’t feel embarrassed or self-conscious. Maybe it’s the way he asked, as if he were generally curious, rather than asking about my lack of cutie mark. Still, what can I say—that I don’t like being in a noisy place like I am now, surrounded by ponies I don’t really know?

“I... don’t know,” I reply instead, hiding behind my mane again. “I just haven’t found anything that I like to do. I don’t even know what my cutie mark could be.”

The booth is silent save for the bustle of the crowd and the fountain’s sputtering fizz. I can feel my face starting to heat up. Did I say the wrong thing? Are they going to make fun of me? Oh, goddesses, what if they tell me to leave? The more I think about the last, actually, the more it appeals to me. If I leave now, maybe they’ll forget about me and I’d be back in the forest alone, away from all this embarrassment and—

“Well, have you thought about music?” Easy asks, surprising me out of my thoughts. “I don’t mind helping you if you want to try. Vinyl and I have a few hours before we need to perform. Otherwise we’d just stand here trading barbed quips back and forth.”

Tears fill my eyes, unbidden again. “I... I’d like that.”

“Well, that’s the first time anypony’s ever fell into tears of joy when I said I’d help them,” Easy says in gentle amusement.

“But not the first mare you’ve ever made cry,” Vinyl replies dryly.

Easy snorts. “Shut up and help me, V. I have a feeling this is going to be fun.”

I certainly hope so.

Comments

[Croswynd]

A thing to note: This story is something I'm working on between massive projects, so the updates will be possibly few and far between. Another thing to note is that this is literally slice of life. The plot is extant, but I'm really just going with the flow, so it will be slow. It's meant entirely to be like this, as a reflection of the character's mind and also because this is purely a relaxation story to write. So, if you like that, you're in luck! If you like adventure, danger and a swift-moving plot, this may not be the story for you. I have another story like that, though, if you're interested. Feel free to check out Unmarked.

Anyways, good night, folks and please, I hope you enjoy.