Tick-tick-tick-tick.
With the metronome set at a steady one-hundred beats per minute, Octavia settled her cello against her shoulder. Her foreleg, holding the bow, had a soft, comfortable grip. She took a pair of deep breaths to center herself and then drew the bow across the strings, bringing to life a short, pure note.
Each string received a set series of bows before the register was repeated at a different tempo. Four draws, then twelve, then nine. Octavia couldn’t help but smile at the warm, full vibrations of the open string bowing in her chest.
Tick-tick-tick-tick-tick.
A small adjustment of the metronome and she advanced to her next series of exercises. She focused on the tone and colour, going back and repeating a few of the sets until she was satisfied with the sound produced.
Tick-tick-tick-knock-knock-knock.
Octavia stopped half way through a draw and turned to the door. A frown pulled at her muzzle where once before a contented smile had rested. She set the cello back on its stand and trotted over to the door. There were only a few ponies who would call on her at this hour, and only one that had that distinctive a knock.
“Octavia!” Octavia was almost bowled over as the cobalt-blue unicorn burst into her apartment. “This is great, I was hoping to catch you at home.”
“Why wouldn’t I be at home, Jazzie?” Octavia grunted as she picked herself up off the ground and dusted herself off. She’d be more annoyed than she was except she had long since grown used to her friend’s... exuberance.
“Why wouldn’t you be?” Jazz Fusion stopped her prancing around the room, throwing Octavia a look of mock shock. “Oh, I don’t know, just one of the coolest arts festivals Canterlot has ever hosted happening only a couple blocks down. Nuit Blanche!”
“Can’t say I recall hearing about one,” Octavia replied, brushing a lock of dark grey mane from her forehead.
“You must have seen the signs around the neighbourhood!”
“Nope.”
“There’s one in your building’s lobby!”
“Look Jazzie, I’ve got a concert a couple days from now that I really should be practicing for.”
“And that’s all there is to you,” Jazzie scolded, tossing her curly, acid-green mane behind her. “Music, music, music; practice, practice, practice. We’re getting you out of this place tonight one way or another!”
Before Octavia could voice another objection, Jazzie was behind her, head down, pushing Octavia along.
“Are you seriously trying to push me out the door? You do realize I’m an earth pony and can just dig in to stop you.”
“Yeah, but that’s why unicorns have poky bits,” Jazzie replied, lifting her head and using her horn to give Octavia a prod right in the haunch. That earned her a satisfying yelp and jump from her friend.
Rubbing a hoof over her haunch and glaring back, Octavia was met once more by Jazz Fusion’s boundless enthusiasm. Her shoulders slumping, Octavia shook her head. “I’m not getting out of this am I—?”
“—You’re not getting out this,” Jazzie replied over her, a toothy grin on her face as she fidgeted in place. “Oh, this is going to be so fun! Though we have to get you dressed.”
“Dressed?” Octavia looked down at herself. “What’s wrong with wearing nothing?”
Jazzie was already heading towards the bedroom and called back over her shoulder, “The theme, dear! This festival is called White Night, it’s expected you wear something bright.”
Octavia shook her head and followed, the sounds of her unicorn friend rummaging her closet already reaching her ears. At least that explained the white blouse Jazzie was wearing, along with her usual necklace depicting her cutiemark, a violin with an electrified note on top. “You’re going to be rather disappointed.”
Like many typical earth ponies, Octavia’s colors were rather drab; a slate grey coat and dark grey mane. The most striking things about her were her cutiemark and eyes, both a vibrant mulberry, something ponies had often remarked to her. She tended to dress in a similar fashion when she was required to dress at all.
“Is this really the best you can do?” Jazzie asked, holding up a white collar.
“Like I said, you’re going to be disappointed,” Octavia replied, taking the collar and grabbing the most vibrant pink bow tie she had, quickly and expertly putting both around her neck. She usually preferred a more subdued pink but figured this would help mollify her friend and be a good excuse to wear it.
That seemed to do the trick and Jazzie was shortly pronking her way back to the front door. Octavia made sure to keep her and her poky bits in front this time. When they reached the streets outside, the wave of cool, fresh air that washed over Octavia made her smile. The sun had just gone down a little while ago and the streets were bathed in both street- and moonlight. Perhaps her friend was right, that she did need to get out of her apartment after all.
“So what is this fest all about anyway?” Octavia asked as they trotted down the cobblestone streets of the capital. “And why at night?”
Jazzie explained, “It’s meant to be an exploration and celebration of contemporary art, crafts, poetry, music, lights, dance. Supposedly they have the involvement of a number of Canterlot artists, galleries, museums, musicians and the like. There’s a bunch of large installations and exhibits that have been set up that I’m really looking forward to seeing. Plus vendors, food, all kinds of stuff. The whole thing runs till early in the morning, some events not finishing until dawn. The palace is putting it on as part of the celebrations of Princess Luna’s return, to show how ponies have grown to appreciate the night since her banishment. She supposedly even had a hoof in the planning and proceedings. Apparently she was an even bigger patron of the arts than her sister.”
“Ah, so that’s why you’re so excited,” said Octavia with a knowing grin. “You’re hoping to run into the new princess.”
“No! Yes. Maybe...?” Jazzie replied sheepishly, her ears canted back. Octavia just laughed and bounced her hips off her friend’s.
Shortly after they reached the main plaza. Octavia had to admit that she was rather impressed. The place was dressed much like a regular market, but instead of merely hawking their wares, the pony artisans in the booths were performing live demonstrations of their respective crafts. There was quite the turnout, she mused as she watched the throngs of ponies waiting in queues, the ones in the back either hovering or just craning their necks to get a good view of the action. Octavia would have joined in, but her ears swiveled to pick up a sound that was more up her alley.
A stage had been set up at one end to play music over the whole area. While it was playing electronic music and not proper instrumental like Octavia preferred, she had to admit that it fit the atmosphere. The pony on stage was appropriately enough a white unicorn, with a mane of shocking blue hair. She was working the station in front of her, swaying to the looping beat of the music as it flowed over the crowds. Octavia wondered how she could see anything out of those purple glasses of hers. Still, the music she was producing was ethereal, almost hypnotic. At first she thought it just a series of simplistic loops, but the more she paid attention, the more she picked up the small variations the unicorn was adding in each time. It was probably the most listenable electronic music she’d ever heard.
Her reverie was abruptly interrupted by the feeling of something being slapped over her back. She turned her head to find herself now sporting a pair of saddlebags with the logo for the festival – a stylized white owl – and the name of a sponsor, Barnyard Bargains, below it. She cocked her brow at Jazzie, wordlessly asking just what she thought she was doing.
“Free bags for our stuff. And, as you said, you’re the earth pony, that’s why.”
Octavia just rolled her eyes and followed Jazzie into the crowds. Each booth had its own lighting, with the whole plaza more softly lit by strings of colored lights interspersed with lanterns at varying intervals. Above, the occasional pegasus would fly by, adorned with glowing lights of their own. The whole effect was what Octavia might think of as under the sea at night, with the booths as islands of activity in the dark.
Around the outsides, along the perimeter of the plaza were various exhibits, many of them interactive art pieces in some way. Jazzie stopped them at one where a wall had been covered in magically-reactive sheets that allowed unicorns to make luminous, short-lived magical graffiti. A group of colts and fillies was there already competing with each other and Jazzie jumped right in on the girl’s side. The fact that drawing certainly wasn’t her special talent did nothing to stop her, Octavia noted.
A bit further along, somepony from the Canterlot Central Library had transported a very opulent reading room outside and set it up for ponies passing by, complete with shelves, rugs, ornate lamps, and comfortable looking lounge chairs. Most of the ponies there had a single volume with them, the exception being the purple unicorn who had gathered a small nest of books around her lounge.
Another magically reactive exhibit let ponies pose in front of a background, then a unicorn would flash their horn, leaving an image of the pony behind that would fade over time. They saw what was likely a brother and sister pair – an earth pony and pegasus – trying to see if they could make a whole line of poses of them across the background, like a cartoon where you saw the characters doing different actions across the same frame.
Turning inwards to the plaza, Jazzie and Octavia proceeded to look at vendors selling jewelry, beauty products, and various articles of clothing. As expected, Jazzie was the more enthusiastic of the two, hoofing over bits for various bobbles. Octavia settled on a couple of gourmet chocolate bars for herself but not much else really caught her eye. They did come across something that eventually did, though.
At the center of the plaza was a group of griffons doing metal work. They had set up portable forges with paw-cranked blowers and were working by the orange glow of the coals. Octavia and Jazzie joined the crowd of ponies watching them work.
Blacksmithing was something that Octavia had never seen being done before and found herself fascinated by the whole process. The griffons were working exclusively by firelight and light from the surrounding stalls, and would pull pieces of metals from the forge, bring them over to the anvils and work the metal into shape with their hammers for a minute or so, and then return it to the fire. Often the griffons would use their wings to augment the blowers. Whenever one did that, the heat of the fire wafted over the crowd, carrying with it the sharp tang of hot iron. There wasn’t any real smoke from the coal used, just heat. It was like sitting around a warm campfire in the middle of the plaza but with only small pits of flames and the quickly fading orange glow of metal being worked.
“Ohh, they have shoes!” Jazzie chirped, noticing the rack of already-worked items for sale. “I need new shoes!”
Octavia left her to happily converse with the griffoness handling that part, content herself to continue watching the smiths at work. One of the ponies near them asked what they were making, and a griffon explained that it would be a bench for the square. They were working with another group across the plaza, earth ponies who would provide the woodwork for the seat itself, but they were making the frame. It was intended to provide both a seat for those who preferred that and a perch higher up for others. Each griffon was contributing a different component to the whole thing, giving it a very unique look. Octavia watched as that griffon took an iron bar and during the course of several minutes beat and twisted it into an elaborate knot design.
Over the whole thing drifted the music from the pony on the stage. The song had switched at some point without Octavia noticing, becoming quicker, moving with a new rhythm. There was now an obvious saxophone dominating things, though she was able to pick out other instruments. There was no question the song was artificial, but the pony handling its construction could certainly create an appealing sound.
“Okay, I’m done,” said Jazzie as she trotted back to Octavia, floating several pairs of horse shoes into Octavia’s saddle bags. “Now I don’t know about you, but I am soo hungry! Let’s go get some food.”
Her stomach rumbled in ready agreement. “What’d you have in mind?”
“Let’s see what’s still staying open around here.”
The two ponies made their way to the edges of the plaza. Several food vendors had wagons set up at the edges but didn’t have anything that appealed to either pony. Then one of the restaurants caught Jazzie’s eye.
“That’s it! We’re doing crêpes. Been ages since I’ve had a good crêpe.”
“Crêpes? For dinner?” Octavia repeated as she trailed behind her prancing friend. She knew the place Jazzie was taking them, but had only ever popped in for a quick snack on the way home after practice.
“’Course for dinner! I brought you out to try new things, to have a good time. Tell you what; since you’ve been carrying around all our stuff, my little pack mule,” that earned her an half-hearted glare from Octavia, “I’ll get this for the both of us. I’ll even grab us a dessert one, too.”
The restaurant was decently crowded but the ponies behind the counter moved quickly. Like everypony else out tonight, they seemed to be getting into the spirit of things and were having a good time showing off their skills to their customers. Both Jazzie and Octavia wound up a savory crêpe for dinner and a sweet one for dessert. Part of the appeal of this crêperie Octavia had recalled was they folded their crêpes in a way to make them more portable and easier to eat without utensils or anything like wings or magic to hold them. Jazzie floated the tray with the stands holding their orders over to a pair of stools at the counter facing the outside window, practically the only seats still open in the place.
Once settled, she floated out a program guide from Octavia’s bag, opening it up on the counter between them. “Sho,” she said around a muzzleful of crêpe, “now that we’ve done the shopping part, what looks appealing to you?”
“Well,” Octavia swallowed her own muzzleful, “I was thinking one of the gallery shows maybe, and see what some of the art installations are like.”
They were in the middle of debating whether to head up or down the mountainside when they were interrupted. “Hey uh, is this seat taken?”
Octavia turned and found herself face to face with the same white unicorn she had seen on stage earlier. She still had her sunglasses, even indoors, but was now wearing a pouch on a rope around her neck. Her own crêpe floated nearby in her magic. Turning a little more Octavia verified the seat next to her was empty. “Uh, no. All yours.”
“Great, thanks,” said the unicorn as she hopped up into the seat, following with a satisfied groan as she settled down on her haunches. “I have been up there for the last two hours, so it’s nice to get off my hooves.” She began tearing into her crêpe, wolfing down whole mouthfuls.
“Hi there!” called Jazzie across Octavia and over the sounds of the rest of the restaurant. “I’m Jazzie and this is Octavia. We loved your music!”
The mare grinned around her food and swallowed. “Glad to hear it. So, Jazzie and Tavi, huh? Just call me Vinyl, though it’s DJ Pon3 when I’m up on stage.”
“Octavia, please,” Octavia countered. She shifted about, turning towards their new dinner acquaintance. “I do have to agree with my friend here, I did enjoy it quite a bit.” If nothing else, Octavia was a professional and was courteous enough to pass on praise to a fellow musician when she had the opportunity. “It seems to suit the mood outside.”
Vinyl crunched down a chunk of asparagus and licked a spot of hollandaise off the corner of her muzzle. “All part of the job, playing to the mood and the crowd. Though it was rather lighter than my usual fare.”
“Which is?”
“Dubstep. Think the electronic version of atonal or dissonant music, that’ll give you an idea you’ll be more familiar with.”
Octavia frowned. “What makes you think I’d be unfamiliar with dubstep?”
“Because you’re wearing that bow tie un-ironically,” Vinyl replied with a huge smirk before taking another bite of her crêpe, her smiling gaze never leaving Octavia.
Before she could object, Jazzie practically jumped out of her seat, slamming her forehooves against the window. “Oh my goodness! It’s them!”
Quickly looking from her wildly smiling friend and back out the window, Octavia had no problems seeing who Jazzie was talking about. Standing head and horn above the crowd was the unmistakable form of Princess Celestia, her multi-coloured pastel mane flowing on ethereal winds as always. Much to Octavia’s surprise, she was wearing a very dark indigo blue dress that covered nearly all her body from the neck down; only her tail and wings were visible. The dress itself had a series of embedded stones and subdued gold trim that under the lights of the plaza glowed almost like distant city lights in the night.
Speaking of, Octavia could also just make out the form of a smaller alicorn beside her. While not nearly as tall as Celestia, she was ever so slightly taller than all but the tallest Canterlot unicorns. Her dark coat almost matched the dress of Celestia, with her own dress a vibrant white, the accent stones brilliant sapphires and the trim silver. Her mane was a light azure, well styled but not waving like Celestia’s. Upon her head was a black onyx crown to contrast her sister’s gold.
Both princesses were surrounded by a crowd of eager ponies as they walked along, a quartet of guard ponies just behind them. They were moving along at a quick pace, but as they went by, Octavia couldn’t help but notice the slightly backed ears and rather apprehensive expression on the younger princess.
“Oh, this is perfect! I’ll catch up with you later, bye Octavia!”
Before she could object, Jazz Fusion had torn a path out of the restaurant and started mingling and bouncing along with the crowd of ponies as they continued trailing the princesses.