The Dancer

by Yip

V - Talent

‘Alto, this is the third night in a row we’ve danced in this room. Shouldn’t we go someplace else to have some private time?’

Alto, frowning unimpressively, broke his close embrace with Allegrezza and stared in disbelief. ‘You can’t be serious! Leave the theatre we created together? This, our true home, and you wish to abandon it?’ he questioned sternly, his voice rising with every word.

‘Don’t talk so loud! Someone might be nearby—’

‘Let them come! I care not if I am discovered, this was built because of our handiwork. This land was not supposed to be theirs! I am indifferent to whatever deed they claim makes this place their own. And they call it Ponyville’s Theatre?' Alto snorted. 'If they can spend their own blood, sweat, and tears for love, I will give this place up at a moment’s notice!’

‘Honey, please—’

Alto paused for a moment, watching the door to the auditorium. ‘See? Just as I had thought. There is no one here, we have nothing to worry about. Now, the night grows thin; let us dance once more!’

A creaking noise crept up from behind the dancers as they re-embraced, followed by a grey hoof poking out from the auditorium door. Slowly, the rest of the shocked stallion to which the hoof belonged revealed himself, his middle-aged eyes widening in surprise.

‘You... you’re that dancer from Manehattan! You aren’t supposed to be here!’ he said in a rushed, accusing tone.

‘Now, mister—’

‘I may just be a lowly cleaner, but I can—and will—tell the manager that you’re here! He’ll be furious, and he’ll contact the manager in Manehattan, and... just leave or else I will!’

Allegrezza swallowed down and looked to the stallion. ‘Please, mister... cleaner. We won’t be in your way, can’t you just leave us in peace?’

‘If my manager found out I didn't tell him, I’d get fired on the spot, no questions asked. You know how he is.’

‘This is ridiculous,’ Alto shot in. ‘It is not your manager’s theatre, it is ours! You cannot hope to intimidate us with such idle threats!’

The cleaner snorted in disgust. ‘I’m an honest pony, I don’t just lie to everyone on the whim of two hotshot lovers, especially not to my own boss. Now, he lives just down the street from the theatre, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind telling the other manager where his star dancer is, eh?’

‘We'd both get fired!’

‘Exactly. Now, get out before I lose my job.’

Alto sighed in defeat and turned to Allegrezza, his eyebrows curving worriedly. ‘Don’t you worry about saying goodbye,’ Allegrezza chimed in, smiling, ‘because I’m certain we’ll see each other again very soon. Someday, we can—and will—leave together. Today is not that day, but it will come.’

‘Hey, you know I can still hear everything you’re saying, right?’ the keeper commented, raising his hoof in the air. ‘I’m right here—and if you don’t leave right now, I’ll tell the manager about that little scheme, too.’

‘I musn’t tarry much longer, my love. I will see you soon, I promise!' Alto turned to the aged pony. 'And as for you, my good sir, I wish you much success with your future!’

Alto received an uncomforting “harrumph” in response.

Not a second later, Alto was out the back door into the starry night of Ponyville, leaving Allegrezza with only her sighs and the theatre’s resident cleaner.

‘You’d be better off not dealing with that type. He may seem like your true love, but he’ll just leave you out of a job. I would just hope that he never returned and say “good riddance” to the whole thing. Phooey!’

The cleaner, too, left the room, through the auditorium door and away from sight.

He will return. He will return...

For the next several weeks, as Allegrezza had expected, Alto showed neither hoof nor mane of himself anywhere near Ponyville. It was difficult, but she continued to dance for Ponyville night after night. After sending some mail in and receiving none in reply during all that time, anxiousness filled her more and more every day.

Weeks turned into months, which quickly turned into a full year without any sight of Alto. Worry kept her from sleeping at night, and the elusive stallion was all that she could think about when performing her routine.

No contact. No sign of his appearance. Not even a response from her hundreds of letters sent to the Manehattan Theatre.

And one day, she decided to simply never leave the theatre. Even after countless years, she never did leave. She just kept on dancing, always waiting for someone.

Someone who never showed up.

~|D|~

The scent of hard cider and sweaty underlegs filled the Applespice Café, the local cider joint for Ponyville. It wasn’t the finest cider around, that honour belonged to the Apple family; nonetheless, it was still a regular night hotspot for ponies looking for a little bit of a break.

For Octavia and Vinyl, it looked to be their final break together.

‘Hey, come an’ have shumthin’ from the real bar, Taves!’ Vinyl said slurredly, sitting on a tall bar stool with a mug of foaming brown cider held tightly in her hoof. ‘Thersh no need to be drinkin’ that weak schtuff you call a drink! Come get shumthin’ real maresh drink, y’know?’

Octavia sat at the bar stool next to her soon-to-be ex-roommate, holding a tall wine glass half-filled with an untouched crimson liquid in her hoof. Turning to Vinyl, she raised an eyebrow and frowned.

‘And get drunk like you? I thought you weren’t going to have that much to drink tonight.’

‘Drunk? No way! Me, the mosht level-headed mare thish shide of Canterlot! Why, there should be shome kinda medal for how reshponshible I am!’

Octavia rolled her eyes and turned back to her glass, swirling it around a few times without spilling a drop. Her mind wandered for several moments before shrugging, picking up the glass and letting some of the liquid go down her throat. She winced.

A little strong, she thought. Her mind wavered to the figure inside the Ponyville Music Hall, then she took a look at her glass. Bottoms up.

The cellist took another long sip of her drink, then turned to see the half-sleeping mare lying her head on the bar counter with her mug half-empty. Over her head, she could see a few other ponies sitting at a table, discussing something unintelligible—every few seconds, they shot an accusing glare towards Vinyl.

Can’t talk about anything to her in her present state, that’s for sure.

‘Ya know, I’ve alwaysh felt shomething deep inshide of me,’ Vinyl said, pointing her free hoof to her chest. ‘Riiiiiiight here. The heart. Y’know, like where ya feel shtuff.’

‘Shh, not so loud... you'll get us in trouble!’

‘Why do youcare? You’re not even drinking yer shissy drink! Ya don’t even need to be here!’

‘Vinyl?’ At this point, most of the eyes in the bar were staring accusingly, some at Vinyl, some at Octavia. ‘I think we’ve spent long enough in he—’

‘I jush lurvsto help ya, Taves! Yer the only friend I have in thish whole place, sho I helped ya. Y’know that Gazer fella?’

‘Vinyl, please—’

‘Hesh not a talent sheeker, I’m the talent sheeker! I shaw yer concert and told him and he shaid “shure” and schtuff and he...’ Vinyl finished, trailing off before crashing her head back on the table in a stupor. ‘And he...’

‘Miss Octavia?’ the bartender, a well-built stallion cleaning a mug on the other side of the bar counter, inquired. ‘I'm not about to tell a couple of old regulars to leave or anything, but your friend is causing quite a bit of trouble. If things were less quiet in here, I wouldn't mind, but the—'

'—And he came here becaush I shaid sho!' Vinyl proclaimed, raising her head for one last hurrah before crashing it down on the counter again.

'Vinyl!' Octavia shot. 'This is not what I expected from you—well, I didexpect it, but it still doesn't make this right.'

Vinyl lifted her head briefly, smiled a wide, toothy grin, and laid a hoof on Octavia’s shoulder. Her other hoof reached out for her empty mug, but before she could, the bartender had snatched it away for cleaning.

‘Vinyl,’ Octavia said, ‘how many mugs of cider have you had to drink?’

‘I dunno, maybe twoooo? I shaw three more, but I know you had those onesh, right? Yer the one who should be kinda tipshy, not me!’ Vinyl lifted herself from the bar stool and stumbled to the door. ‘Lesh go, the bartender ruined our fun.’

Octavia looked with worry to her friend, who stood by the door, puzzled by its mechanics. Octavia frowned.

‘I’ll pay for the two of us,’ Octavia said, retrieving and laying down several golden coins from her saddlebag hanging from the bar stool. ‘Five mugs of cider and one glass of cherry wine, right? I’m so dreadfully sorry about my friend, so I added a few bits as a tip.’

‘Much obliged, Miss Octavia,’ the bartender replied, smiling. ‘Just like old times, eh? It’s a shame you’ll be leaving for... Fillydelphia, was it?’

Octavia frowned. ‘How did you kno—Vivace, right.’

The bartender chuckled. Octavia looked again to Vinyl, waved to the bartender and took off to give her a helping hoof.

‘Let’s go; we need to get you home.’ Octavia pulled open the glass-laden bar door, and Vinyl soon followed her out into the dimly-lit outdoors. After taking a few steps, she collapsed, lying on the ground belly-up with a frown on her face and eyes shut tight.

‘No, I’m drunk!’ Vinyl said. ‘I had to be drunk on the day when yer leavin’! The lasht thing we'll ever do ish bring me home! I’m a-a ho-ho-horrible pony!’

A few tears ran down the sides of Vinyl’s face, trailing until they reached the grass underneath her. Octavia shook her head.

‘You’re drunk. I know. I’ve seen you drunk before and, honestly, it’s not a big deal. You can say goodbye to me tomorrow—right now, you need your rest.’

‘R-really?’ Vinyl said, curving her mouth back into a smile. Her eyes opened to gleaming crimson colour, visible through tears even in the absence of significant light. ‘That shounds like a good idea to me!’

Vinyl closed her eyes and laid her head down on the grass, knocked out too fast for Octavia to react. She looked down at the sleeping figure, curled up in the fetal position as a thin stream of saliva escaped her mouth and onto the ground.

'Aww, isn't that... adorable, I guess?'

Octavia had been through this routine before. In a practiced motion, she put her hooves underneath Vinyl's unconscious self and lifted up, grunting a little at the effort as she walked out to the starry night.

'Ergh... walking like this with a heavy burden sucks. Another pair of hooves would've been great.' Octavia paused for a moment. 'Eh, maybe it's best that Vivace opted out. Wouldn't know what her reaction to this would be... hm, you’ve gained weight, Vinyl.’

Octavia’s mind shifted to a possibility—one where she wasn’t there, and Vinyl still faced a night of drinking. Her stomach churned.

‘A fine thing this would be alone, you know. Just please... please don’t keep doing stuff like this.’ Even though she knew Vinyl could not hear her, Octavia smiled. Everything was going to work out fine.

~|D|~

Octavia left her home as silently as she could—as she closed the door, she paused for a moment. Will she be alright? she thought. ...Yeah, I guess so. The only thing I’ll have to worry about is her nasty hangover in the morning.

She began walking. Where she was walking, she did not know, even though the night sky was still young. Her thoughts idled until she came to a river—looking down, an unmuddled reflection in crystal clear water. A shimmer, and another figure took her face’s place.

An ethereal figure.

Octavia did not look at it long enough to see it clearly, but she knew what it was as soon as she had caught a glimpse. There was someone she needed to see, and fast.

Knock knock.

Ponyville Theatre was closed. She had to try anyway.

Knock knock. The impact on the theatre’s door came down harder. Several seconds, and no response.

Knock—

A click prompted Octavia to stop before her second knock, followed by a slow, ominous creaking sound as the door squeaked open. Although the night had gotten darker, the moon’s light shone on the figure opening the door, showing Octavia his aged face.

'Huh? Who's out there knocking on my door?' the stallion called out, squinting as he looked at Octavia. 'Say, you're one of those hooligans coming to stay here and wreck the place, aren't you? Well, my manager didn't just put me on night shift for nothing! I've got nothing to lose and I'm ready for a scrappin'!'

As the stallion raised a hoof in self-defense, Octavia raised her own, signifying peace. ‘Whoa there! It's just me, Octavia!'

'Octavia? The music mare?' he questioned, his voice laced with suspicion. 'I could barely see you through this darned night. Shouldn't you be preparing to leave for Manehattan tomorrow? It's pretty late to be out wandering the streets.’

'How did you know about that?'

'My manager was a little disheartened when I took my shift, so I asked him what was going on.' The keeper let out a brief chuckle. 'Your group were his strongest performers. But don't stay out in the dark! Come on in!'

It wasn't much brighter inside, but what little light remained from the moon shining through the windows was enough to see the space the keeper had been cleaning and, vaguely, to see each other's faces.

'The manager thinks the place will start to go down without its star act, but I'm sure we'll manage somehow.' The keeper grumbled to himself. 'So, what do you need at this late hour? I’ve got the rest of the night here; I’m all ears.’

Octavia hesitated for a moment. The stallion gave her a gentle look, and she sputtered: ‘D-Do you know anything about that... that dancer you mentioned a while ago?’

‘Dancer? We get plenty of those come in through the week. A lot of them are quite pretty,’ the stallion added, looking up to the ceiling with a smile.

Octavia groaned. ‘No, not them. I mean the dancer who made this place.’

‘Who?’ the stallion replied, losing interest in the ceiling. ‘I don’t recall any dancer making this place, but I remember the stallion who made it... a musician, I believe? A stage manager?’

‘The one your dad told you ab—wait, the stallion? Do you know anything about him?’

‘He went to Manehattan or something, maybe FIllydelphia... Vanhoover? Eh, I can’t remember everything. It probably started with an “m”, or maybe an “r”. Can’t say I know too much about the stallion, though, other than him making the theatre and moving away.’

Octavia sighed. ‘Well, thanks anyway. I initially came to—’ Octavia caught a glint of the stage in the dim light, ‘—to get one last look at the place before I left. Can’t leave without saying goodbye.’

‘Well, take your time. This place ain’t going anywhere.’

A soft whistling music escaped the stallion’s mouth as he went through a row of seats, inspecting every cushion with a passing glance. Octavia took a full look at the stage, and pondered.

Could I call the dancer right now, see her one last time?

Octavia turned to the whistling pony close by. ...Ah, I wouldn’t have been able to anyway. She sniffed, and promptly turned to face the door—her steps were short, but she eventually made her way outside without saying so much as a “goodbye” to the keeper. A single tear flowed from both of her eyes, an ensuing stream quelled by an unknown force.

That force, she thought. I won’t be feeling it again. Not in there.

~|D|~

A clock’s alarm had been neglected the night before. In its place, a new alarm reared its white and blue-maned face over Octavia.

'Hey, yo... shouldn't you be getting ready for Manehattan? It's like—' The speaker, Vinyl, looked at Octavia’s clock with rubbed-out, bloodshot eyes. '—ten-ten.'

'Hrm... ah?' Octavia's own bloodshot eyes were just beginning to open as she uttered incomprehensible sounds. 'Whozzat? Can't be Vinyl... hangover...'

'Yeah, I know I have a hangover. I'm not sure how I even got out of bed, frankly.'

The half-asleep cellist opened her eyes further and looked up in disbelief. 'Vinyl... up 'fore me? Must be dreamin'...'

‘If it were a dream, then I’m your knight in shining armour—here to take you away to Manehattan. You’re all packed, right?’

Octavia nodded her head.

‘Well, then we had better get going. Last time I checked—’ Vinyl yawned once more. ‘—ten-ten was morning. Late morning, even.’

Octavia groaned.

‘What about that dress?’ Vinyl said, scratching her head. ‘You gonna find one in Manehattan or something?’

‘Yeah, I guess so,’ Octavia replied, getting her hooves out of bed with a steady lurch. ‘Say, about the stuff you said last night...’

‘Huh. If you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say, then I guess I didn’t just dream about that.’

Octavia continued, and smiled: ‘...Thanks, Vinyl. We wouldn’t even be in this position if it wasn’t for you.

Vinyl rubbed the back of her neck and blushed. ‘Well... well, we should get going. I’ll wait out front.’ As she quickly walked out of the room, Octavia smiled. A door opened, then shut, Octavia following close behind with a suitcase rolling behind her. Her left hoof struggled with the load—Seems heavier than it was before, she thought, grunting and sweating her way to the door.

The door opened once more, with Vinyl’s hoof up against the frame. She smiled.

‘Need another hoof with that, Tavi?’

'No, no—that's quite alright,' Octavia said, grunting with every tug. Vinyl placed a hoof on Octavia's chest, then pointed up to her horn.

'Did you forget about my magic?' Vinyl said, chuckling. 'Really, it's no trouble at all.'

Octavia nodded her head, and soon the bag hovered over the ground, enveloped in a light blue glow. Vinyl shut the door, and the two began walking away from their home.

'Are you feeling okay, Vinyl?'

'Hmm?'

'I mean... are you okay with me leaving and everything? I know it was done on fairly short notice, so I don't know how you feel about losing your roommate.'

Vinyl laughed. 'You think this is a bad thing? I set you up for this, Tavi! Don't worry about how I feel—it isn't even that big of a deal, anyway. I can do whatever I want with no one else in the place, your boring concerts will be a thing of the past—' She stopped for a moment. '—no, I kid. I travel all of the time, either way. You're going to come visit, I'm going to come visit; it'll be like you never left.'

'I suppose so.'

In the distance, the two could see a nearly lifeless train station in the early noon lull. A few ponies were scattered here and there around Ponyville, and only one was at the station, looking down at his wristwatch while tapping his other hoof impatiently. A train was in front of him, standing quite still. A cluster of varied suitcases and bags surrounded him, almost certainly not all belonging to him—it became obvious rather quickly, due to the banana hat resting on his head, who it was.

'That's pretty tame, especially for Gazer,' Vinyl said. 'You should see some of the stuff he's had on in Manehattan. Enough to fill a fashion disaster museum, even.'

Octavia recalled his last outf—her eyes veered to the right, and all was forgotten. She was looking to the Ponyville Music Hall once more, and her stomach churned.

No.

‘You’re a little early, Octavia. Any reason as to why?’

Star Gazer's voice made her jump; Vinyl looked to her with raised eyebrows.

'You okay, Tavi? What's gotten you spooked?'

'It's the jitters of making the big time, my good friend!' Gazer replied, giving Vinyl a good slap on the back. 'How the hell have you been?'

'Doin' alright, I guess,' Vinyl said, shrugging. 'Haven't been over in Manehattan for a while; how are things there?'

'I'm sure that, thanks to your hard work in finding these lovely musicians, things will be going just swimmingly—yes, indeed. I expect great things from your group's audition, Miss Octavia. Say, speaking of which, I figured they'd be back by now.'

'Where did they go?' Vinyl said, setting down the bags amongst the parcels lying on the station dock. Octavia stood where she was, still and silent.

Gazer frowned. 'The train had some issues or other—something about a leaky hoozmawazit, what a bother. If I knew anything about these contraptions, perhaps I could have sped up this awful delay.'

'...And the musicians?'

'Ah, right. They left for a bit to go say goodbye to some of their friends and whatnot, I believe, while the train gets repaired. Curious, really, since they'll be visiting fairly often. It's not as if we're crossing the world to get to Manehattan.'

Octavia shook from her trance—her stomach continued to churn.

'You're going to Manehattan with that outfit on?' Vinyl raised an eyebrow.

'What outfit?'

'Never mind, Gazer. You really do never change—except for your clothes, that is.'

'You've got that right!' Gazer replied, giving Vinyl another firm slap on the back. She recoiled a touch, but Gazer simply laughed. 'But, seriously, what do you mean by...'

The duo's conversation left Octavia's ears; for a while, she could not think. She could see Waltz and Sonata in the distance, but she could not shake another figure from her head.

A dancer...

'...Drunk again, eh? You must have a hangover something fierce, my friend! I certainly hope that Octavia—or any of the group for that matter—did too much on your little escapade, did they?'

'I had just a little bit, Mister Gazer,' Octavia replied.

'It speaks! And it seems we have two more speakers arriving: the mother and son of the group!'

'We're friends,' Sonata said, unamused as she shot a quick glance to Waltz. 'I'm not that old.'

'I never said you were, my dear. It was merely a figure of speech, a passing gesture, a spur of the moment whim!'

Sonata frowned, and looked to Waltz, who shrugged. 'Will the others be too much longer?'

'Not likely,' Gazer said. 'I see smoke from the train, so I certainly hope they won't take long. I'll go check on the conductor, just give me a few minutes...'

As Gazer walked over to the train's main entrance, Sonata sighed.

'Staccato is having second thoughts about this whole thing,' Sonata said. 'Be wary, Octavia, if he does something... unorthodox.'

Octavia blinked.

'You alright, Octavia?' Waltz inquired.

'I...I'm fine. Don't worry about me—just a little emotionally exhausted, I guess.'

‘Yeah, I’m just happy to be starting a new life in the big city! I’m sure the ponies my age will love my drum. I’ve heard from Vinyl that it sounds a lot like a bass, and that sounds pretty popular.’

Octavia's eyes widened—Sonata did the same. 'Wait... Vinyl? You're telling me you two already know each other?' the two said in unison.

‘Heh, you two sound like the twins.’ Waltz turned to Vinyl. ‘She just came to me after the one concert she listened to and told me about the drum. It was nothing more than that.’ Waltz shrugged. ‘I didn’t think it was a big deal.’

‘Heh, I figured as much. Say, you’re talking an awful lot more than usual, did you have a change of outgoing-ness overnight?’

‘No, I just don’t talk much when ponies I don’t know are around. And I usually don’t talk when the group is together because Staccato is usually there... he scares me. He mostly seems to care about the group itself, not the members. He just wants success.’

Octavia frowned. ‘Yeah, but he hasn’t done anything rash yet. I think it’s best just to leave him be and go on with what we're doing, even if he's having second doubts about whatever it is he's thinking about. I had... other things on my mind overnight, and Staccato wasn't one of them.'

‘Speaking of overnight,’ Sonata chimed in, pointing her hoof towards Vinyl, ‘it seems as though somepony didn’t have such a great night last night. What did you do? Get drunk or something?’

‘That’s not really any of your business.’ Vinyl paused for a moment. ‘Yeah, I suppose I was. I guess it was kind of obvious.’

‘Indeed, you do look quite unwell,’ a voice inputted from behind Vinyl and Octavia. ‘And I trust that Miss Octavia was also present in your little escapade?’

‘Staccato, I wasn’t getting drunk.’ Octavia turned after seeing Waltz frown and take a step back, unsurprisingly coming face-to-face with a frowning stallion staring straight at her.

‘That seems wholly untrue. Why would she go alone on the night you leave? Seems a little convenient either way.’

‘I was accompanying her, but I had nothing to drink.’

‘Mm.’ Staccato sighed. 'I'm just a little on edge, my dear, so I apologize for jumping to conclusions. I just don't want anything to go wrong on this trip—imagine, the Ponyville Players, playing on the big stage! I'm getting shivers already.'

'Shivers are for cold climates, silly!' Vivace said from behind Staccato, prompting him to jump. 'Did you miss me, Staccy?'

'We were gone for ten minutes at the most.' Staccato grumbled.

Vivace walked around the tense Staccato, and stood next to Octavia, laying down a single duffle bag arched over her back and her trumpet secured to her side. 'I had to say goodbye to a few more friends, but I've just been so anxious to go to Ponyville that I couldn't come any later. I've got family in Manehattan and I can't wait to see them!'

'Hey, maybe you could get lodging with them! It'd be better than whatever crummy hotel we'll wind up getting.'

‘Great idea!’ Vivace’s eyes lit up. ‘Hey, maybe if they’ll accept me, they’ll let you come too. If not, then I’d rather be with my friends than my family, in all honesty.’

‘We’ll talk about this later,' Octavia replied. 'Let’s get our stuff in the train so we can leave as soon as the twins come. I’m not really expecting them to be as early as we are—they're younger than us, right?’ She walked over to the train's entrance, ajar and blocked by Star Gazer's approaching figure.

'The train is up and running, as confirmed by our lovely attendant,' Gazer said, a young white mare blushing a few feet behind him. 'I'm surprised there aren't any other passengers—regardless, let us be off once we have the whole party here. Ah, speaking of which, there they are now.'

Gazer walked past Octavia to greet the pair of ponies. 'You two ought to get name tags, it's impossible to tell the two of you apart...'

'Octavia?'

The group's voices faded from hearing, but Vinyl's, who had moved away from the pack, was crystal. 'Octavia, you okay?'

'I'm fine, Vinyl,' Octavia replied, shaking her head. 'Honestly, I don't know why everyone keeps asking me that.'

'I dunno, you seem a little down. You just remember to have a good time, okay?' Vinyl lifted a hoof under her glasses and rubbed her eyes. 'Let me get your bags for you.'

As Octavia's bags, including her cello's black case, rose into the air, Octavia smirked. 'Are you tearing up, Vinyl?'

Vinyl's hoof quickly lowered, and her mouth twisted. 'W-huh? No, no—I don't cry, Octavia. I guess I'll miss you and all, but you said you'd come visit, so I wouldn't—'

Octavia embraced Vinyl, and the bags dropped mid-flight inside the train. Vinyl's initial surprise faded, and one of her hooves reached up and patted her back.

'I, uh,' Vinyl said, breaking away from the embrace, 'I'm not very good at saying goodbyes or hugging, I guess. So, uh... guess I'll see you later, then,' she finished, turning as the rest of the group approached.

'That's fine—and I'll come back as soon as I can.' Octavia walked into the train along with the rest of her group—getting to a side booth was hard enough without the bags and assorted clothing in the way, littering the train car's floor. The attendant sighed at the terrible mess, but kept her composure as she dealt with Gazer and the group's tickets for the journey.

Once Octavia had found a booth, with Vivace following close behind, she stared out the window. The train had not begun moving, but Vinyl was already waving her hoof on the station dock. Octavia waved back.

'And we're off!' Gazer shouted as the doors shut.

Octavia continued to wave until the train started moving, where Vinyl put her hoof back down and prepared to leave.

A glint through a window belonging to Ponyville Music Hall caught Octavia's eye, sidetracking her from all other thoughts.

A yellow glint, with the familiar outline of a pony.

All she should make out was a downcast expression on the figure staring straight back at her, as if it had a longing for the cellist to come to her. But Octavia could not see any more, as the train moving made the Hall appear as no more but a speck in the distance.

She would never see through that window again.

Comments

[71M073J]

Damn I almost forgot the shivers I get from this story...