“Please, I need that.”
Her eyes didn’t bother to follow the sheet of paper that fluttered past her nose, instead focusing on an invisible point straight ahead. She sat on a wooden stool in the small alcove of her room where all of her music related activities took place. Her bare music stand stood in her front, her cello leaned against her side, and, to her annoyance, somepony stood behind her, making childish cooing noises.
“Listen, I really don’t have time for this.”
The paper, riddled with musical markings, fluttered past her from the other direction. Though she wore a stoic expression, her insides felt more or less like a volcano waiting to erupt.
A few tension filled moments passed, and she did just that.
“Father!”
On the paper’s third flyby she snatched it out of the air before shoving it into the stand with much more force than was necessary. The figure behind her retreated his hoof, a quaint smirk on his face.
“My, my, Octavia, you can be quite a little fireball,” her father remarked.
She peered over her shoulder, narrowing her eyes. “I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to interfere with my practice.”
“I know, I’m sorry.” He walked beside her seat, eyes settling on the paper previously in his possession. “It’s just that you’ve been practicing so intently for this past week, you’ve barely ever talked to your mother or myself.”
Octavia’s expression softened, the fact piercing her like an arrow. She hadn’t spent any time with her parents since the beginning of her and Vinyl’s grudge match; and while she wanted to say it was for a good reason, the fact still remained that she’d shoved aside both her parents for a filly she’d just met.
“I’m very sorry, father.”
“Oh no no. I’m proud to see you get so involved in your music.” He puffed up his chest. “You’re becoming just like your old stallion!”
Octavia groaned at her father’s attempted use of Equestrian slang, even if he was technically praising her.
“So tell me,” he continued. “You’ve never participated in a talent show in any of your old schools. What made you decide to enter one now?”
Octavia froze. She hadn’t told either of her parents of the challenge, nor of the filly who could practically yell from her window to talk to Octavia; in hindsight, she was surprised Vinyl hadn’t tried that yet. In any case, she didn’t have any plans on telling them of the reason she’d abandoned them their first week in a new country.
She began adjusting one of the already-tuned knobs of her cello, an excuse to turn her gaze away from her father. “I just thought it would be a way to… project myself into the new culture, I suppose,” she said with a nervous smile. She hated lying, partially because it was wrong, but mostly because she was bad at it.
“That’s great. I’m happy you’re so eager to get into the culture.” He wrapped a foreleg around her shoulder, with her glancing at his hoof in discomfort. “Even the greatest musicians need their rest, though. Can you promise me that you’ll get some sleep tonight?”
She eagerly nodded. He smiled and planted a quick peck on his daughter’s head. “I’m sure you’ll do great tomorrow.”
He let his hoof slide off her shoulder as he sauntered back into the hallway, closing the door behind him. She had just begun to readjust herself when she heard her father’s voice from the hallway.
“By the way, if you ever meet whoever it is who’s playing that music every night, could you ask them to stop? Maybe it’s a cultural thing, but I’m finding it very hard to fall asleep with all of that noise.”
In the back of her mind, she wanted to burst out in laughter. “I will, don’t worry,” she lied for the second time that night.
His faint hoofsteps decresendoed as he walked farther away, until they faded into silence. She drew in a deep sigh of relief, before bringing her attention back to the paper on her stand, scooping up her bow, and readjusting her body so she was in the playing position.
This would be the last runthrough until tomorrow, meaning there was absolutely no room for errors. Breathing deeply, she put her entire focus into the sheet of music, and with a movement of her foreleg began the flow of melodic sonance.
Immediately, an excellent quality of sound was produced. The piece flowed smoothly through the movements, just like she had hoped it would. Eventually the final note was reached, and she did a quick examination of her work that evening. Perfect, simply perfect.
A satisfied smile adorning her face, she began to pack her cello into its home, where it would rest until its next performance. This last runthrough had caught her attention. All of her others had been the same; to a point, it had felt like they’d been machine-produced, merely for the sake of memorization and perfection.
This time, however, she had been particularly pleased with her results. The satisfaction she’d felt; it was like nothing she’d experienced with not only her other runthroughs, but even some of her live performances. She knew, fully, that this was the true perfection, the one that she would use to prove to Vinyl Scratch once and for all that her music was superior.
Vinyl Scratch. She was only meters away, yet secluded in her own world. Octavia wondered what she was doing. There was no doubt that this was as important to that unicorn as it was to her. The smile that she’d shown that past week had proved it. Now, Octavia wore a smile of her own, knowing that come tomorrow, that unicorn’s trademark smirk would take on a more surprised semblance.
Octavia walked over to her mirror. She looked at her charcoal mane, grey coat, and violet eyes. No doubt the image of a sophisticated mare, one who took pride in what she did.
“You have this in the bag, as Vinyl would say.” She couldn’t hold back a slight giggle, impressed with her ever-growing knowledge of Equestrian slang.
At that moment, a light shimmering in the mirror caught her eye. It was small, yet glittered like a pearl in the moonlight. Coming from her eye, it slowly began a descent down her cheek, the light it reflected dancing in her reflection. Octavia looked at it curiously, and slowly realized what it was.
“A… tear?”
She reached a hoof to the spot. Expecting to feel a tinge of wetness, she instead felt nothing. After taking her hoof away, she looked at her face in the mirror. There was nothing that could have proved the presence of a tear
She rolled her eyes. “It was probably just my eyes playing tricks on me. It is getting past my curfew after all.” Her eyes drifted up to the clock that hung above her doorframe. “Ah, it’s ten. It should be starting any time now.”
As if on cue, the same noise that had awoken her on the first night materialized out of the abyss. The heavy driving bass had seemed to soften since her first encounter, though she found it to be more the result of her becoming used to the nightly attacks. The first night, Octavia had been furious; now, she just grinned.
“Good to see she’s practicing. It would be such a waste to play without a challenge.”
With a small hop she was in her bed. She nestled herself into the covers, grabbing a pair of small orange nubs from under her pillow.
“Good night, Vinyl. You won’t be sleeping the next few.”
She put in her pair of earplugs and fell soundly asleep.
-----
En route to her destination, Octavia couldn’t help swaying her hindquarters a little as she strutted along the concrete outside her new home. Admittedly, this was more than a little difficult with an enormous cello case on her back, but tonight, it felt as light as a feather.
The sun had just begun to crest over the horizon. The heavens above were painted with dancing hues of orange and pink, the gossamer clouds looking like ghosts. The land below had become enshrouded in twilight, while an evening breeze rolled through the Manehattan suburb.
That evening she had taken the opportunity to spruce herself up, something she never did without occasion. Her mane was straightened, as was her tail, and her coat smelled of her mother’s pungent perfume. All this was topped off with the piece de resistance; her bowtie, a treasure she only ever wore for public performances, loosely hugged her neck.
All for Vinyl, of course. Even though she’d spent a considerable amount of time making sure both she and her instrument were flawless, she had a feeling Vinyl would not do the same. Nonetheless, it was her style; Octavia wasn’t about to go correcting others on cleanliness or how their mane looked.
The more she thought about that night, the wider her smile grew. She hadn’t been this excited over a single performance in her entire life, not even when she’d been invited to play at the Musikverein in Neighenna. To her, it had just been another hall, with ponies that just happened to be a little fancier than the rest. Then again, those ponies happened to understand the fine intricacies of classical music, and while that was good, it was boring.
She had only traveled a few meters when a sight on her left caught her eye. It was a house, very similar to hers in appearance, but utterly failing in structural integrity. Much of the paint had begun to chip off, vines had begun to crawl up the sides, and the door looked more like a relic of war than an entryway.
Vinyl’s house. She’d passed it every day on the way to school, but only now did she truly look at it. In a way, it was fitting of the resident filly; rowdy, falling apart in a few places. Oddly welcoming….
She quickly shook the thoughts from her head. Turning back towards the street in front of her, she quickened her pace to make up for the time she’d spent admiring the house.
Within minutes she’d arrived at her destination. The entrance to the school was bustling with ponies of every color and size. A large banner hung over the doors, covered in the same artistic trash as the smaller posters. While it lacked the debonair feel of a theater, it did have a certain appeal; either that or she’d just gotten tired of seeing the same Victorian-era buildings over and over again.
At the front doors the concentration of equines grew much larger, and she found it difficult to weave her way through them, eventually managing to burst through to the lobby. The crowd had dispersed slightly. Some chatted with friends, some immediately entered the auditorium on the left, while many had taken to visiting the snack stand.
“Hey, Octavia!”
It was loud, even amongst the collective buzzing the crowd emitted. Turning her head towards the center hall, she spotted a familiar face, made easier to spot by his black and gold mane. He made his way over to her, dodging others as he did.
“Hello, Clef. How are you this evening?”
“Great,” the cream colt answered. “And yourself?”
“I’m doing wonderful, thank you.” She was glad to run into him of all ponies, though in hindsight she really didn’t have many others she could really run into.
“So, I can see you’re all ready to perform tonight,” he noted while doing a quick scan of her form. “I can’t wait to hear you. I know it’s going to sound amazing. And I’ve actually heard you play, so I can say that now.”
“Thank you,” she said with a light chuckle. “I forgot to ask, are you going to be performing tonight as well?”
“Me? Nah, I figured I’d sit this one out.”
“Really? That’s a shame. I’m sure you’d do great.”
“That’s a big compliment, coming from you,” he said, when his features popped slightly in realization. “Oh, here, I got you something.”
He reached into his backside and returned with a small pamphlet, the words “Manehattan Primary Talent Show” emblazoned on the header. “There are twenty-two ponies performing. You’re on first, and Vinyl is on last.”
She took the pamphlet from him. “Thanks. By the way, have you seen Vinyl?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Haven’t seen her.”
She scrunched her face in a scowl, dejecting her gaze to the side. “Oh, I see.”
“Don’t worry, I’m sure she’ll show.”
“She’d better,” Octavia gritted her teeth. “She better not have fallen through.”
“Vinyl? Fall through on a promise? That’s crazy,” he reassured. “She always keeps her promises.”
“You seem to know her pretty well,” she noted, eyeing him suspiciously.
“Eh, preschool and stuff like that.” He scratched the back of his head. “She’s kinda been around me my whole life. Can’t seem to get rid of her.”
“I can relate,” she thought while rolling her eyes.
He looked up at the clock that hung above the doors of the auditorium. “Well, I better go get my spot. Good luck tonight.”
He walked off towards the auditorium, waving to her as he disappeared into the sea of ponies.
As she waved him off, a worry crept into her mind, distorting her smile. It was only a premature one, not proven by any facts, but it was there. What if Vinyl actually had fallen through on their promise? What if she never arrived? What if she’d…
“No, that’s crazy,” she thought, forcing herself to giggle at her hasty judgment. “She’s probably late, no big deal.”
She dodged more and more ponies on the way to the changing room. However, while the school called it a “changing room”, that name couldn’t have been farther from the truth.
-----
For a middle school, she ‘d expect no less than to have all the performers prepare in the same room. All of the chairs had been cleared out of the orchestra room and had been replaced by young ponies, filling every inch of the room with their items and commodities. Octavia recognized a few from orchestra, brandishing their instruments and whatever simple piece they’d chosen, though most would probably disagree with her on her idea of simple.
She located an uninhabited corner, not far from her actual seat. She weaved through a plethora of ponies and paraphernalia as she converged on her corner, finally setting down her case once she arrived. Within moments, she was brandishing an instrument of her own.
Finding herself ready much earlier than anticipated, Octavia realized that she hadn’t accounted for being prepared this early. Perhaps one more runthrough could help, but with all of the noise filling the room, she doubted she would be able to correctly measure the finality of her piece.
The idea born out of boredom, Octavia quietly decided to leave her instrument and stand watch by the front door for when Vinyl arrived, figuring they’d be able to exchange some pre-competition remarks before the show started. She sauntered back towards the entrance, finding it much easier to weave in between her classmates without a twenty-pound instrument on her back.
At the entrance the crowd of ponies had grown even larger, almost to the point where the little filly could only see back into the courtyard through small gaps in the legs of the crowd. Realizing trying to find a stationary one was pointless, she made her way into a less inhabited area where she could see every pony that entered the school. According to a nearby clock, Vinyl had exactly ten minutes before the show officially started. Focusing on the crowd, Octavia silently stood guard.
Ten minutes passed, and the only pony close to Vinyl had been one that had had a particularly gothic appearance to her. Now that the time limit had been reached, the previously repressed fears began to resurface. She glared at the clock.
“Where in Equestria is she?!”
At that moment, the doors to the auditorium were shut by two of the janitors, a signal that she needed to hurry back. Time ever ticking away she rushed back to the orchestra room and then to her corner, cello right where she had left it.
Vinyl’s absence had certainly “thrown a wrench” into her plans, but it wasn’t anything she couldn’t overcome. Working quickly, she made some last minute adjustments to her appearance. From the door leading to the stage, the faint sound of the principal giving his opening speech to the crowd filtered into the room.
She picked up her cello. Her eyes scrutinized over the polished wood, accounting for all the adjustments she’d made prior to that night. Tuning, however, was something that still needed to be done; humidity and temperature easily affected the pitch of any instrument. Resting the instrument on her side, she turned her eyes to her case.
The sight before her contorted a confused expression on her face. The velvet bed where the bow normally resided was empty.
“That’s odd. I’m sure I left it here. Did it fall on the floor?”
She looked down, scanning the area around the case; nothing. She turned her case around; still nothing. A bead of sweat formed on her brow, followed by many more as her internal metronome began to quicken its tempo. Her movements hastened as she checked in, around, and under her case, finding naught but dust.
“Oh no.” Her head dashed left and right. “This can’t be happening…. This can’t be happening!” Her eyes widened as she quickly dropped to the ground, scavenging for her missing bow like a dog would for a missing bone.
For whatever it worth, she quickly moved on to other locations. She checked her music locker; nothing. In Noteworthy’s office; nothing. True panic began to settle in, as she tried desperately to think of more places where her bow could be.
After a moment of thinking, her attention turned to her classmates. They were completely oblivious to the panic attack she was experiencing; most of them were probably too worried about their own nerves to care about those of another. Her eyes moved from pony to pony, checking if one might have picked it up by accident.
“Has anypony seen my bow?” she yelled above the voice of the crowd.
A few turned their heads at her question, but answered only with shrugs or shakes of the head. From the auditorium, she could hear the principal giving his closing remarks.
“No, no, not yet. Give me more time!”
Had some unicorn accidentally teleported it away? Had a dog gotten in and mistook it for a bone? These thoughts unfortunately didn’t help at all, and only succeeded in making her panic worse. Out of the dark corners of her mind, one appalling thought stood out from the rest.
Somepony had taken it on purpose.
The idea sounded crazy, but it was the only explanation. She would’ve continued to question why had her mind not completely ceased to function as Noteworthy entered the room. The teacher she normally looked at with reverence and respect had turned into an object of fear.
“Alright everypony, show time! First off is our newest member, Octavia.” He looked across the room for her. “Octavia, are you ready?”
As all of the eyes in that room locked on her, she attempted to meet them with the best professional smile she could muster, which only added to how bad she looked. “Umm, it’s alright, somepony else can go before me.”
Noteworthy gave her a questioning look. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, it’s fine, really.”
His eyes fell back down to his list. “In that case, next on the list is Summer Flare.” He looked around for the one who matched the name. “Are you ready?”
A particularly excitable orange colt burst out of the crowd, bringing with him a wagon full of pyrotechnics for Celestia knew what reason. As he went through the door that connected the room to the auditorium, the other nineteen resumed their last minute preparations.
The navy-blue stallion walked through his students to her. “Is something wrong, Octavia? Bit of stage fright?”
“No, it’s not that,” she mumbled, looking up at him with filmed eyes. “I can’t find my bow.”
“Oh my,” he responded, looking only partially shocked. “That does sound like a problem.
“I left it here when I went back out to look for Vinyl, but when I came back it was gone. I looked everywhere. I tried asking the other students if they saw it, but none of them said anything. I even checked your office,” she spoke in rapid succession. “Have you seen it?”
“No, I can’t say I have.” He scratched the base of his neck, breaking eye contact. “I’m really not sure what to say. It’s your only one?”
“Yes.” Her volume had dropped to the point where it was barely audible.
“I’m sorry to hear that. I’ll try to push off your performance as long as I can to give you more time to look for it.”
“Thank you,” she whispered. Noteworthy turned and trotted off, leaving her in her corner.
Her eyes sank to the floor, knowing the futility of his offer. If her bow really had been stolen on purpose, then there was no way she’d get it back. Out of both options and time the filly’s mind finally shut down. Her hind legs gave out first as she slowly sank into a laying position, burying her head in her forelegs.
“How could this happen?” she whispered, if only for her own ears. “How could this happen?”
Any other pony might laugh at her for this show of seemingly unnecessary depression. It was merely a bow, after all, a cheap tool that could easily be replaced. All string players went through plenty in their respective lifetimes. Those ponies were unaware of this particular bow’s history. If judged only by appearance, it was nothing special, a simple wood-stained bow. To her, it was everything.
-----
“Mommy, daddy, where are we going?”
The seven-year-old filly asked the question from what she assumed was the back seat of her parents cart. The true whereabouts of her location was uncertain, thanks to a piece of black cloth that had been wrapped tightly around her head.
“Just be patient, dear,” her mother’s voice reassured. “We’ll be there soon.”
She had no idea where ‘there’ was, nor of what they would do once they got ‘there’. It was a bit scary, being exposed to only darkness in the middle of the day. But she knew there would be something good if she waited. There always was in situations like these.
That day was the one-week anniversary of the obtainment of her cutie mark. A shiny violet treble clef now painted her flank, something she had been very excited about. Partially because she was the only pony in her grade that had one, but mostly because of the opportunities getting it had laid out before her. No longer was she confined to watching out for what interested her, and no longer did she need to worry about growing up to be a blank flank. The world was hers for the taking.
Specifically, the musical aspects of the world were hers for the taking. The symbol on her flank represented a talent for the creation of music. She had her father to thank for that. Had he not taken her to that music shop, she would never have been able to try that cello, and she wouldn’t have been able to leave them in awe when she’d been able to produce clear quality tones on her first try.
She’d almost left her father in tears. It was the first time she’d seen him do that, though according to her mother he’d also done it when she had been born. Parents were so silly.
It was this silliness that made her wonder even more why they’d decided to pick her up from school that day, waiting for her with a blindfold. She couldn’t even admire the Germane countryside as they traveled along, with all its rolling green hills and bright blue skies. The thought was inspiring. Maybe she could write a song about it when she became more knowledgeable of music.
The back seat of the cart shook as it moved, until the shaking came to a stop. She heard her parents exit the vehicle, as one came over and opened her door.
“Don’t be nervous, I have you. I won’t let you fall.”
Her father’s voice had always been very soothing, and in moments she found herself on the ground, her one hoof in her father’s. Birds chirped in the warmth of the summer day, with the wet dirt under her hooves sending a tingling sensation through her legs with every step.
“There are some steps now. Take your time.”
As she tentatively made her way up stone steps, her body shook as apprehension built in her body like steam in a kettle. After a few moments of flat ground, she felt a new soft sensation, the carpet of a house.
“Ok, you can take it off now.”
She pulled the blindfold off her head. Her pupils dilated, bringing in the scene before her. Immediately she knew where she was. It was her house. Why they’d decided to blindfold her to bring her here of all places was answered by what stood two meters before her.
With roundish curves, a reddish piece of polished wood stood shimmering in the light from the outside, the only object visible in the darkened house. Intricate designs were etched into the cello’s body, and a black neck stuck out the top, strung with thin wires.
Octavia stared at it, blank expression frozen on her face.
“Is it… mine?” she asked, voice trembling at the sight.
“It’s all yours,” her father answered.
Rocket ships would have a hard time matching the uplift she felt at that moment. She danced around, bouncing into the air as her high-pitched laughed filled the house. Her eyes shut, trying to contain the excitement.
“Yay! I love it I love it I love it!” She whipped her head around, showcasing her joy to her parents. “Thank you so much! I promise I’ll clean it after every time I play it!”
Her parents glanced lovingly at each other, joyful at their daughter’s happiness. They watched as she inspected her new possession with rapid eyes, eager to know it inside and out.
After a while of marveling at the gargantuan piece of art, a sight aside of it caught her attention. Next to the cello laid a long sword-like piece of wood, strung with white pony hair. The wooden part shared the same color as the instrument.
She picked up the bow, rolling it around in her hoof until it felt comfortable. It was magnificent, and perfectly suited to her size. It felt as if it were a part of her, an extension of her musical abilities. This was what she would use to write a hundred, no, a thousand symphonies. This was what she would use to put on the most spectacular performances in every famous concert hall on earth. What she held in her hooves was just as special to her as the cello itself.
This was her partner.
-----
Thinking back, Octavia remembered the pure ecstasy she’d experienced. No words could be used to describe it. They’d bonded instantly; it had just felt perfect. She couldn’t explain it, the special connection between a musician and their instrument. Like the connection between best friends, it was one that she would never forget, no matter where life took her.
It was the same bow she had planned on using tonight. It was hers, one of the few things that she could truly call her own. It was her memories, everything she’d ever done and everything she would ever accomplish. And it was gone.
Slowly, the night that couldn’t have gone wrong crumbled away before her. She curled up, wishing she could just disappear. Her body shook as she began to heave short sobs, water trickling into the comfort of her forelegs.
“It isn’t like a filly like you to be crying over a lost bow.”
It was a young voice, light and innocent, but nonetheless ignorant of her condition. “Shut up, whoever you are. You don’t know how much that bow meant to me.” She pushed her head farther into her forelegs. “That was my bow. My parents *sniff* got me that when I was seven. I’ve used it my whole life. Now…*sniff*… now it’s gone.”
“But in the end, it’s just an object, right?”
The filly slowly opened her eyes and looked up, revealing a face now stained with tears. The first thing she saw was a pair of brilliant golden eyes. They belonged to a unicorn who stood over her, roughly the same age as her. She was covered in a soft aquamarine coat, with a short white and light blue mane cascading out of her scalp.
“The bow isn’t what creates the beautiful music, and neither is the cello,” she continued, her kind voice like a soothing breeze. “You are. Even if it’s missing, as long as you have the courage to keep going, you’ll get through this with no problem. The instrument doesn’t define you; you define the instrument.”
Octavia looked back down at her own hooves. “That’s all good, but I can’t physically play my instrument without a bow, courage or no courage.”
The unicorn smiled lightly. “Here. I actually have a spare cello bow. I know it’s not yours, but it can get you through tonight, right?”
She opened one of the nearby lockers and looked inside as a light beige aura enveloped her horn. Out of the locker floated a long piece of wood.
Octavia’s eyes grew wider, but not out of panic. The bow was set in front of her. It was nothing special; an average, red oak cello bow, strung with off-white pony hair.
To Octavia, it was if she had been given a lost treasure. Her mind experienced a sort of mental whiplash, words failing to find form as she stared slack-jawed at this seemingly miraculous occasion.
She stood up, switching her look of amazement to the unicorn. “I… I don’t know what to say.”
“So, do you think you can go on now?” the unicorn asked.
For a moment, Octavia was unresponsive, until all the joy her mind had repressed rushed out. “Yes, this perfect!” Her mouth exploded into a joyous smile. “Thank you so much! I’ll be sure to return it when I’m finished playing.”
The filly shook her head. “No, keep it. I mean it.”
“What? But…”
“I have plenty of them,” she interrupted. “My family owns a music shop downtown.”
“I’ll never forget this…” she started, realizing she couldn’t finish her own sentence. “Ummm…”
The filly shut her eyes in a smile. “Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings.”
-----
She’d been through this scenario a hundred times. Standing backstage, she would have a modicum of time to make any final preparations. The announcer - in this case the principal - would present her name. She’d walk on the illuminated path towards center stage, where she would then proceed to perform.
One would think that with such experience, this situation would be a cakewalk, having been through plenty of recitals much more strenuous than this. This, however, was not the case. It was simply natural; no performer of any kind could ever rid themselves of fear. The trick was using it to their advantage. Essentially, turning their fear into a driving force to perform even better; and that was a good thing, because she had been downright terrified that night.
Noteworthy had changed her position in the queue to third, generously giving her a little more time to prepare. Lyra’s gift nestled in her hooves, she peeked between the curtains, seeing the end results of the act of a filly who apparently could ride a unicycle, juggle, and spin plates on her nose simultaneously.
Looking back, she took a long deep breath, closing her eyes. This had become a part of her pre-performance routine early on, and she found that it helped calm her nerves. Considering she’d almost hadn’t been able to go on at all, this exercise had received an even more important priority.
A rumble of applause tore through the auditorium, much louder than in the orchestra room. Moments later, the filly returned from the stage, sweat and a smile on her face. Her friends patted her on the back, congratulating her on a performance most of them probably hadn’t seen.
“For our third performance, I would like to proudly welcome the newest member of our school,” the speakers echoed.
Feeling a light pressure on her shoulder, Octavia turned to see Lyra standing behind her. “Knock em dead.”
“What?” Octavia exclaimed. “That’s awful! I can’t believe…”
A raised eyebrow from Lyra made Octavia realize her mistake, her mouth turning into an embarrassed grin.
“Coming to our humble school all the way from Germaney, it is my pleasure to present miss Octavia Adagio!”
She stepped between the curtains with her instrument in tow, ready to outshine Vinyl whether she was there or not.