Pony Perspective: Octavia Melody(Canon Character)
Factions: Freelancer
Year 3 WT
They call me the Corrupted Violinist. They say I slaughtered millions on the day of reckoning. THEY SAY I STARTED THE WAR!
What they don't know may hurt them. What they don't know is that I'm just a pony. What they don't know is what I believe in...who I believe in.
I was at the safe house in Shoerun Drive, waiting for the informant. I had my contrabass beside me, ready at a moment's notice. I don't know how ponies get it so wrong, it doesn't even look like a violin! My bow rested lightly beside the instrument. It was strung with blue hair from a pony I loved. A pony who gave me hope. A pony...who is gone. I sighed and kept my eyes forwards.
I was crouching beside the door, prepared to spring at whoever comes in. They surprised me once before, never again. I held my breath as I hear clopping going down the street. It sounds hurried, but the pony walked by without a glance at where I was hiding. I only breathed again when I heard no more steps.
Scenes flashed through my head. It was just like last ti... SHUT UP! It won't happen again! I waged internal war with my subconscious. After many losses and as much wins, I perked my ears at the hoofsteps coming closer. I tensed and waited for the door to open.
It didn't.
"Ah, miss Melody, I see you have...urk!" I slammed my bow against the pony's throat. "A-apol-apologies. Forgive m-my intrusion! I...urk...w-was sent by b-boss to deliver y-you a message! N-now can you p-please refrain from k-killing me?" The pony rubbed a covered hoof over their similarly covered throat where my bow was previously at. The pony gently placed a pice of yellowed paper before rushing off all the while saying excuses for why they must be off.
I hoofed the paper to the light and read the contents:
Violinist, I am intrigued to meet you. Please meet at the southern side of Hoofton. The code word is: Wub.
I tilted my head at the choice of code word. Could it be? No. It's purely coincidental. I shrugged the contrabass onto my back and kept the bow in my maw. I triple checked to see if there was anypony around the safe house. Clear.
I trotted as casually as possible, my grey coat slightly slick with nervous sweat. My black mane swished in the cold breeze. I arrived at the specified location and set up my contrabass. I started to play to pass the time. Few ponies came out and watched me play, I was saddened to see the war take so many ponies joy. I played with newer vigor and never faltered. My bow danced on the strings, I poured my heart, my hopes, my dreams, but most importantly, my sorrow.
Then I saw the white unicorn.