//------------------------------//
// Music is Magic 
// Story: The Master Cellist 
// by Veridian Phantom 
//------------------------------//


The Next Morning




        Beep Beep Beep Beep

        “urrgh...” The dreaded alarm clock, you wish you could take a hammer to it.

        Smacking your lips you make an attempt to sit up. Heaving once, heaving twice still no luck. Rolling on your side and lifting yourself up sideways is much easier than straightforward. looking at your clock the time reads 10:22 AM. Being groggily tired you pay no mind to it.

        PING

        “Oh no, ohhhh no! Drat, darn, curses, kill-me-now.” Hurrying out of the warm bed you stumble across the room towards the bathroom. Removing your toothbrush and toothpaste from the drawer, you place them on the counter and proceed to turn on the shower. Scrubbing down your teeth like a madstallion you quickly hop into the shower and cringe at it's cold touch. The shower quickly warmed up and your fur was soaked head-to-hoof. Without much time to spare you wash, lather, rinse and jump out. Grabbing a towel you wipe yourself down, take out a blow drier and finish up.

        The time now reads 10:34 AM. Crashing down the stairs you reach for the phone, pull out the card next to it with Octavia's number and give her a call.

        Beedle Beedle Beedle *Click*

        “Good morning, Octavia speaking.” Sounds like she just woke up.

        “OhdearCelestiai'msosorryIforgottocallwhenIshould've!”

        “Wha-?”

        “IoversleptandIdidn'tmeantopleasedon'thateme,don'thateme,don'thateme!”

        “Calm down...”

        “ButnowyoupickedupthephonesoImaynotbetoolate,youdidsoundsleepy-”

        “Calm down!!” She huffed and puffed into the phone, you could hear her breathing loudly.

        “Sorry...” Your voice was just above a whisper. She let out a small sigh on the other end.

        “I assume you're calling about the meeting I proposed yesterday?” Her tone sounded like she wasn't too impressed with you so far.

        “Mhmm, yeah.” Your hooves are rubbing against one another like you're a schoolyard filly talking to your crush.

        “Hmm, would you be able to make it to the address on the card in about two hours?”

        “Y-yeah of course! I'll be there, I wouldn't miss it for the world!” Your face was covered in a grin ear-to-ear.
        
        “Quaint, just remember to bring your cello okay? Don't forget it!” She raised her voice up an octave to get the message across.

        “Okay.” With that she hung up, and you were giddy with joy. The day just got a whole lot better in no-time at all.

        It'd be best to start getting your instrument ready now, seeing as you haven't played your cello in a very long time, it needed a good cleaning. The first step was to get a face cloth, and the special wax finisher your father left you. Next are other items like a soft-bristled brush, and some instrumental soap.

        After obtaining all the necessary cleaning supplies, next up was the instrument itself, bolting up to your room, you open the closet containing the instrument, bring out the case and rush back downstairs to your living room table. Placing the case on the table you flip it around and click open the locks. Your eyes gaze upon the sight before you. You run a hoof along the finely grained and master crafted wood, the feeling of having it once again in your hooves was nothing short of extraordinary.

        First you take the cloth and dab it in a bit of liquid soap, wetting it, you bring the cloth down to the surface of the wood, slowly running it across with ease. You begin with the top, migrating over to the sides and bottom, with that finished, you grab your secondary face cloth and begin to dry it off on all sides. With the body finished you do the same to the neck and head, once done you work with the strings. Completing the clean, the last task is to polish the cello following the same pattern you did with the soap.

        Content with your newly polished and cleaned instrument, you hoist the equipment out of the case and stand it up in the playing position, gathering your bow you hold the cello steady and run the bow across the strings, the sweet hum of the instrument flows into your ears and produces the sound of excellence and amazement in your head. Your heart starts beating more quickly to the tune that comes forth from gliding the bow along the strings.

        “Ohh... Sweet Celestia, that sound.” The seductiveness in your voice adds to the mood of the instrument. Your body starts to feel weak, lightheaded, and ready to just give out, the magic in the music is too strong for someone as inexperienced as yourself.

        “Woaah...” Snapping back to reality, you had totally forgot that music was much like magic. When someone is inexperienced with music or playing an instrument, they must train themselves like most unicorns do to withstand the pressure or sensations of the music. Ponies not trained to last through it may become weak, lightheaded and clumsy, they may also become drunk on music. Music is a powerful being. Through experience and hard-training, only then can one overcome its intoxicating powers.

        You looked up to your clock, with still half an hour left to spare, you lock up the case, lean it against the wall at the door and head downstairs. Today you took the day off and closed the shop to prepare for your day with Octavia, the thought of her entered your mind, you hooves started to rub against each other again like a schoolyard filly, a faint red shine encompassed your cheeks.

        'I hate this suspense, the waiting, gee willikers Batpony this is taking forever!' Inside your thoughts behind the counter, you hear a faint tapping on the window outside. Returning to reality, you get up off the chair and make your way over to the window. You watch the small filly smile with glee now that she has your attention. You point to the sign that reads “Closed” hanging from the door of your shop, you hate to turn away from a customer, but today is your day off. The small filly's smile lowered and her expression changed to sad. She turns around and starts to walk away, seeing the small filly sad broke your heart to pieces. You unlock the shop door and call out to her.

        “Hey, wait!”

        The small filly's smile returned and she ran over to you as quick as her little body could move.

        “Heya Mister, can I buy a cello from you?” Her hopes were now all on you.

        “Sure, come on in, but don't tell anypony okay? This is just for you.” Whispering the words as if to make a playful game of this, you walk towards the left wall of your shop as you walk in and proceed to take down a beginner's cello. You gather up all the necessary pieces and place them on the counter of the shop.

        “So uhm, I didn't catch your name.” You ask with a hearty smile on.

        “Veronica Amareti.” She replied just as happily as your smile was, clearly she was grateful for you helping her.

        You stop dead in your tracks, slowly turning around to look at the filly you gaze into her eyes to see if there's even a hint of a lie. Sadly your skills in this matter are null and you can't tell.

        “D-d-did you j-just say...” You gulp down the lump in your throat. “Amareti?” Your eyes didn't budge from the filly in front of you, not letting her escape your glare.

        “Y-yes I did. Mister you're scaring me.”

        Your eyes grew wide and you fell back onto the counter, your front hooves preventing you from falling to the floor in surprise.

        “Uhm, Mister? You okay?”

        Regaining some composure as to not completely humiliate yourself, you stand back up and attempt to clear your head before replying to Veronica.

        “Y-yeah you just took me by surprise is all.” You awkwardly giggle to yourself out loud.

        She tilts her head to the side and cocks an eyebrow with an expression that says you may have lost it.

        “Ahaha...haaa. Shall I ring up the items? The total for everything is 70 bits.” Awaiting the payment, your thoughts begin to wander, what was someone as renowned as her doing here? Where are her parents? Why is she buying from you? This is becoming an off week very quickly. You muse to yourself.

        Veronica sighed to herself in disappointment.

        “I'm sorry, but I don't have 70 bits, I don't have any money actually. I was hoping to work off the cost, if you'd allow me.”

        Your jaw dropped to the floor, your eyes popped out of their sockets, shock set in slowly as you heard the words repeat in your head. I don't have any money, I don't have any money, any money.

        “No money? You're from the famous family that invented the cello right? Are you the daughter of Andrea Amareti or not!?” You raised your voice from sheer shock, unwillingly scaring the little filly.

        “Y-yes but... but...” She looks down at the floor, tears welling up in her eyes.

        “But?” You craned your head forward awaiting the answer.

        “I-I ran away!!” She screamed.

        This would've shocked you to your very being, but having heard so many shocking things today and yesterday this bit of news had no effect.

        “Why did you run away?” You genuinely care for the well being of such a well-known family. Perhaps this little filly had something bad happen to her? The best you can do is offer help.

        “Everypony in my family always tells me to be something I'm not. They all want me to practice everyday at every chance I get, but I don't want to! I love the cello, but they force me to practice and be better. If I don't get the practice done right, they give me evil looks like I'm not trying hard enough. They're all big meanies, so I ran... It wasn't fun, I wasn't allowed to play with anyone, or go to school like all the other fillies.” The tears form into streams and flow down the sides of her cheeks like a river.

        Feeling heartbroken from such a story you kneel down to her height and look her straight in the eyes.

        “Unfortunately I have someplace I need to go, and it's very important I be there.” You say softly. You look up at the clock and notice you've only got ten minutes left before you need to be there. The ride by carriage only takes three minutes, so you've got time. “Tell you what, why don't you stay here for the time being, I'll let you into my apartment, I won't be back until later this evening. Help yourself to food in the fridge. You're welcome to practice your cello.”

        She gives you an evil look.

        “I-I mean practice if you want to.” You let out a very apologetic laugh, hoping she will forget your little blunder.

        “I like playing the cello. Just not with those high expectations everypony wants of me.”
        
        Letting out a small sigh, you walk towards the door behind the counter and allow her entry into your apartment. Getting a quick look at her, she doesn't have a cutie mark yet, and she has the same coat color as Octavia, difference being her mane is colored dark blue, her eyes are the same color as her mane, making for easily distinguishing features.
        
        “Veronica, please don't make a mess, and the door to the shop will be locked, this door will not be, you can look around. One thing I ask you do not go into is my room. Okay?” Your emphasis may have only peaked her curiosity, but hoping she listens you leave it at that.

        “Okay Mister, thank you.” She walks into the apartment and gasps. She immediately runs all over the place admiring the work you've done, the various cellos and parts all around. She runs into the kitchen and then towards the living room, and back to your kitchen. “This is it?” She asks, genuinely concerned about the small living space.

        “Well y-yeah... I'm not exactly from a wealthy family like you are.” Did she just 'zing' me? Pushing your thoughts aside, you turn around and proceed downstairs towards the shop.

        “See you when you get back.” Her tone light and soft made your heart melt, she felt like your daughter, if even for a moment.

        “See you when I get back.” Flashing a smile you head outside the shop and lock up, hoping she'll be fine. With cello in tow you call out for a carriage.

        “Carriage!”

        A carriage driver hears your call and comes to a halt in front of you. Putting the cello case on the secondary seat, you hand him the card with the address on it.

        “Uhm, bud? You sure about this? You know who lives there right?” The tone was easy to depict, he was concerned for his passenger.

        “Yes, and I am expected to arrive there in a few minutes, now please, I'm already late as it is.”

        With that the carriage driver rolled his eyes and you were off, the city was pretty basic. Manehattan didn't have too much to brag about. Apartment buildings and shops littered the streets. Although in some weird architectural design, the shops are on the right, and the apartments and housing are on the left of the main street, which you are currently traveling on.

        Ponies of all shapes, sizes, and wealth were on the streets today. Some of the higher-up classes had their snouts raised and walked with their eyes closed. How do they know where they're going? You flatly remarked to yourself. Other middle class ponies such as yourself were shopping, mostly in groups. One in particular was in a hurry and bumped into the upper-class ponies mentioned earlier, the two upper-class ponies were being degrading and rude to the middle-class pony. Not that you really cared, but it's the way of life, the proverbial food chain as it were.

        A few lefts, and a right turn, next thing you know you're there. Watching the street ponies must have taken up all your traveling time. No matter, you pay the carriage driver his fee, lug the case onto your back, and step off the carriage.

        Standing in front of you was a massive mansion, the wall surrounding the estate traveled for at least a kilometer in each direction. The gate is huge, it could easily fit two semi-carriages at the same time. On the gate read: Philharmonica. You've arrived.

        Gulp