Octavia’s hooves glided into her case and onto her bow, releasing the locks that held it in place. She carefully picked it up, before setting it down on the bed behind her. She reached back into her case and pulled out two more items that I recognized: rosin, and a tuning fork.
“If you really want to hear me play outside of my performances, you don’t need to be afraid to ask me. I practice everyday for at least four hours, usually more. I’m sure there’s more than enough time for me to play for you,” she told me with a smile. I raised a lip at the thought.
“I mean... I know, but... I don’t ever want to disturb you, you know?” I explained.
“Ha! Now if only I could get the same kind of consideration from Vinyl, I wouldn’t have to worry about completing my practice for the day,” she laughed as she applied her rosin to her bow.
“Does she disturb you often?”
“Hm... no, but there are more than a few cases where... well, let’s just say that a bit of consideration for others goes a long way,” she said with a smirk.
“I get that,” I chuckled.
“Alright, just let me tune again, and we can start,” she told me, reaching for the tuning fork. Octavia struck it against her other foreleg, and it rung out a perfect sound.
Concert pitch. A, four hundred and forty hertz. Clear and pristine in tone.
Octavia quickly tuned her highest string, which I had been informed was an A but an octave below concert pitch, before moving on to the rest of the strings. With how seasoned and proficient she was with her cello, tuning did not take more than twenty seconds. She let a final long stroke of her bow run across her lowest string... C, before glancing up to me.
“Alright... what would you like to hear? Anything specific in mind?” she asked me.
“Well, I guess I would like to hea-”
“Ah!” Octavia cut me off, giving me a stern look. I stared at her with wide eyes, waiting for her to continue.
“...whatever you do, don’t say Ponybel’s Canon in D major,” she deadpanned. I gave her a blank look, and we stared at each other for a few moments.
“...that’s what you were going to say, wasn’t it?” she asked, her words dripping with apathy. I breathed in sharply, before giving her a large smile.
“Ugh... anything else?” she sighed.
“...how about... Suite Number One?” I asked, hoping for a better response. I must have picked correctly, because Octavia simply beamed at me.
“That’s one of the pieces that I played for my audition to the Royal Academy,” she told me, puffing her chest up.
“Well, it’s a staple of the instrument, is it not?” I asked.
“Hm, very much so. Suite Number One helped to bring the cello into the light as a soloist’s instrument, and set the precedent in quality for modern cellists. It was ahead of its time, and likely still would be,” she thought aloud. I admired how much dedication Octavia had for her instrument and everything that went along with it, including the history.
“Any specific movement?” she asked me. I shook my head, trusting her to amaze me. Knowing her, it would not be hard.
Or maybe... knowing me...
She brought her bow up to her strings, lowering her head as she did.
“Prelude...” she whispered.
The room fell silent, and I listened.
After a few moments, Octavia began to play.
With practiced... no... perfected movements, she played. Every note was pristine. Every arpeggio was clean and distinguishable. This was a piece that I had heard many times, but never from so close. Everything was just... clearer. It was almost like I was discovering the piece for the first time again.
I shuddered at the thought. No...at the music. This was...
“...wow...” I whispered involuntarily. Octavia must have heard me. She opened her eyes slightly, smiling at my reaction.
I had dabbled in music before. A bit of piano here, and a splash of guitar there, but... this wasn’t the same. This was a master in her element, doing what she had trained her whole life to do. It was more than a blessing to hear someone so passionate play for me, and it would likely stay with me for the rest of my life.
Too soon, Octavia brought her bow to rest on her A string, letting the sound from her final note ring through her vibrato. She lowered her head again, waiting for the note to fade away. Glancing up at me, she smirked. I corrected the... rather silly look that I had on my face, before clearing my throat.
“That was... I, uh... um...” I stumbled. Octavia giggled to herself, clearly enjoying me making a fool out of myself.
“...I don’t even know what to say. I mean... excellent? Perfect? Beautiful? Sure... those are... are words...” I trailed off. I mentally kicked myself for being so stupid.
“How about the Allemande?” she asked with a grin. I exhaled, before composing myself.
“Yes, that... that would be nice,” I told her.
It was.
It was very nice.