//------------------------------//
// I - Curtains 
// Story: The Dancer 
// by Yip 
//------------------------------//

On the northwest end of Ponyville lay a modestly-sized, antiquated wooden building with little more adorning it than a few cracked windows and brass plating on the front doors labelled “PUSH”. Mounted above the double-doored entrance were rusted yellow letters that spelled out “Ponyville Music Hall” on a normal day and, on occasion, tampered with to form “Ponyvile Music Hell”.

On the inside, the air was filled with only silence and the seats were occupied with ponies waiting for the show. Their eyes were glued to the the red curtains on the stage, not daring to speak a word lest they miss the beginning of the impending melody. In a quick motion, the fabric shielding the stage to the audience was pulled to the side, revealing seven instrument-wielding musicians, poised with their musical tools and looking to the applauding audience with straight-faced, no-nonsense expressions.

Within seconds, a stout, light-brown stallion with a pearl-white mane and tail had lowered his hooves on two of his piano’s keys at once, holding the tone for a couple of seconds before moving them to a higher note. As he reached the middle of the piano, a high trill began sounding its way out of a violin wielded by a mature, light-purple mare with a chocolate-brown mane.

Then, everything went silent once more. After a few moments, the group looked to each other, nodded their heads and poised themselves again, ready to continue.

A melodic tune began pouring out of the instruments, led by the thundering trills of the violin, piano and cello with the support of a timpani drum’s beat. Two flutes and a trumpet’s loud buzz enhanced the sound and accentuated the impact it made on the audience, keeping everyone in the theatre on their toes.

As the night went on, there were songs that made its listeners cry, songs that made them think—despite having no lyrics. There were sections that made shivers go up their spine, pieces that shocked them to the back of their seats.

As the group quickened their pace, rising higher and higher in pitch and volume in a stunning crescendo, the audience was leaning on the edge of their seats. All at once, the musicians stopped—most of them, anyway. Every performer on stage had scurried off to the side save for one grey-coated mare: the cello player, Octavia. She took a few careful steps towards center stage and positioned her bow on her cello’s delicate strings.

A bead of sweat ran down her back as a thousand faces turned to stare as if boring a hole right through her; unshaken, she closed her eyes. Within moments, she forgot about her fellow musicians, the audience, the building. She entered a secluded world of peace and tranquility, where the only sound she could hear was the steady motion of her breathing and saw only what stories her cello had begun singing; back in the theatre, what could be heard was a prodigy coaxing music from her instrument with subtle grace.

The long, drawn-out notes coming out of the instrument left the audience wanting more, which was delivered shortly afterwards with sharp notes and high-pitched finishes. The fast-paced sounds ended abruptly with Octavia re-entering the world of the theatre, smiling as she turned to her fellow musicians. The audience quickly began applauding the performance enthusiastically, rising from their seats—and some with tears forming in their eyes.

The rest of the group went out to take their bows, staying in the spotlight for several moments before the curtains were placed back into position. The thunderous rounds of applause made the cramped theatre an impossible place for the performers to speak without having their voices drowned out.

As the group retreated into a windowless back room, they sat down on six chairs forming a small circle. Their instruments leaned against a wall, still and quiet.

‘I thought that went pretty well!’ Octavia exclaimed, prompting five heads to nod in response. ‘But where’s—?’

‘I am right here, darling,’ a formal-sounding voice replied from behind her. ‘I was placing the cover over my piano. I trust you folks always take measures to protect your instruments, hmm?’

‘Of course we do, Staccato,’ Octavia replied. ‘What did you think of the concert?’

Staccato waltzed to the center of the circle with his head raised high, twirling a black, sharp-tailed suit as he turned to face Octavia. ‘Does the cheering outside answer your question?’

A short giggle spread across the room.

‘So,’ Staccato began, ‘if we could begin by—’

‘Whoa, who put you in charge?’ a teal, pink-maned mare interrupted, giggling. ‘Only joking, Staccy! Go on!’

‘That’s Staccato, Vivace,’ Staccato replied, snorting in annoyance. ‘I’d appreciate if you stopped calling me that. Now, I’m certain that you all enjoyed your performance this evening?’

‘Oh yes!’ one of a pair of identical light-grey mares replied, similar in every way to her twin save for her having a straight golden mane as compared to the other’s curly mane. ‘It was quite delightful, wasn’t it, Treble?’

‘Most certainly, Clef!’ Treble replied. ‘The way their faces lit up—’

‘And the way they looked to us in admiration, it was a feeling we’ll never forget—’

‘We felt like superstars!’

‘As you should, ladies!’ Staccato resumed. ‘You should all be proud of our spectacle tonight! I daresay this has been our finest one yet, and a big part of it is thanks to our wonderful cellist’—Octavia beamed—’who came up with the idea of finishing off with a solo! And, of course, our lovely flutists were fantastic during our rendition of “Yesterday”; I’d say The Lonely Hooves Club Band themselves would be delighted to hear such a cover!’

Treble and Clef joined in Octavia’s glee.

‘And what about the rest of us?’ the violinist protested, frowning. ‘I thought we played great! Why don’t we get any credit?’

‘Sonata, please,’ Staccato replied, sighing. ‘You simply must give me time to continue before going off with that mouth of yours. I was just getting ready to congratulate you, Vivace and Waltz.’

The teal mare and a sky-blue colt, with a chocolate-coloured mane matching Sonata’s, whom he sat right next to, offered a slight smile.

‘Hmmph! I doubt it,’ Sonata hissed.

Everyone but Sonata and Staccato, who looked to each other with narrowed eyes and glowering expressions, simply sat in their seats, quiet and patient.

‘Where was I?’ Staccato resumed, breaking from the battle. ‘Ah, I have some excellent news I procured from the theatre’s manager!’

The room’s occupants brightened up and leaned their ears in. The colt was looking down at his rear hooves hanging from the chair, his face withdrawn from the conversation.

‘Waltz, are you alright?’ Staccato inquired. ‘I wouldn’t want you to miss out on this news, hmm? Best if you paid more attention to me.'

'Y-yes, mister Staccato,' Waltz replied sheepishly. Sonata patted a hoof against his back and continued to glare at the pianist.

'Wonderful! Now, I got some news recently from a friend of mine—mind you, this is simply a rumour—that talent seekers from Manehattan have been touring around Equestria. The last time a sighting of said seekers was found, they were in Canterlot. They might be headed here next.’

Unintelligible murmurs scattered across the room.

‘I bet you’re thinking exactly what I’m thinking: a better theatre! Fame! Bigger audiences!’ Staccato closed his eyes and a hint of a smile crept up on his face. ‘I’m sure that’ll give you all plenty to think about, hmm? Just remember to keep trying your best; I have no idea when, or even if, they’re coming. Does anyone else have anything to input?’

‘Oh, oh!’ Vivace cried out, raising her hoof into the air as high as she could. ‘Is Saturday the next concert date?’

‘Ah, yes it is! I think it would be prudent to get some rest before then—who knows, maybe the talent seeker will be there!’ Staccato raised a hoof. ‘Ta ta, everyone!’

Staccato took a quick bow and retreated back on-stage, his suit fluttering behind him as he trotted.

‘Good night folks! Loved the concert!’ Vivace cried out happily. ‘Octy, you wanna walk home with me?’

Octavia rose from her seat, gave a short sigh and trotted over to the side, retrieving her instrument. ‘It’s not like we don’t walk home together every day, Vivace.’

‘Oh, I know!’ Vivace stuck out her tongue playfully. ‘I just wanted to make sure! I hate walking alone!’

As the remaining musicians grabbed their instruments and followed Staccato’s move out the door, Octavia used her free hoof to pull Vivace back into the room. In a rapid flash of her hoof, she shut the door, leaving the two in the room alone.

‘What’s going on, Octy?’ Vivace inquired, raising her eyebrows. ‘You aren’t holding me captive, are you?’

‘No, no... nothing like that.’ Octavia sighed. ‘I just wanted to have a one-on-one with you. Do you have any idea what’s going on with Staccato and Sonata? They’re usually not this hostile!’

‘They haven’t liked each other since I came several months ago. Maybe even longer before that, who knows?’

‘I know—but I haven’t seen them at each other’s throats like this even when I first arrived!’

‘I still remember the first time you played with us,’ Vivace remarked, looking up to the ceiling. ‘It was only last month, but you sure made a great first impression! You’re already the star of the show!’

‘That isn’t what I’m trying to—ugh,’ Octavia moaned and took a peek up above at a decaying plank of wood lining the roof. ‘Let’s go walk home, Vivace. I don’t think it’s a great idea staying in this old theatre; it might collapse at any given moment.’

Vivace offered a slight chuckle and trotted out the door with her trumpet encased in a velvet-lined, hard plastic yellow case. ‘Maybe that’s the reason why Staccy’s gotten so grumpy at you! He could be jealous of you taking the spotlight!’

‘No, he’d be stern with me if that were the case.’ Octavia followed her friend out the door and headed towards the theatre’s double-doored exit. 'They might have some history between them. Wouldn’t want to stay in this group if we can’t all get alo—say, how’d you get into the group, Vivace? You don’t exactly strike me as the type Staccato would associate himself with.’

‘Whatever do you mean, darling?’ Vivace said haughtily, raising her snout up snobbishly high. ‘I am as refined as a crumpet, my dear Octavia.’

Octavia allowed a short giggle.

‘Very funny. But really, how did you get in?’

‘Same way as you did. Getting noticed by Staccato while playing for a group! Although, I guess I was picked because he couldn’t find another trumpeter or someone with an instrument that plays like it—oh!’ Vivace lit up. ‘Did you see the front sign? I came into the theatre and saw it hanging above me!’

The duo were now outside of the theatre, with Octavia looking to her friend, incredulous. ‘Whatever do you mean, Vivace—oh,’ she remarked as she turned around, ‘it’s... nice?’

Vivace tried to suppress a giggle, but her efforts were in vain as she fell on the ground in hysterics. ‘I was reaching up to touch the door frame when the “a” shook and turned upside-down! It was so funny that I just left it!’ she explained between breaths.

Idly doing random things with her hooves? Octavia thought. How bizarre... I need to get to know these ponies better.

Almost as quickly as she had fallen, Vivace sprung up, smiled and continued walking. ‘So why didn’t your marefriend come out and walk with you today?’

‘I’m not really sure why you keep calling her that. Vinyl and I have no relationship whatsoever, and I can tell you with all honesty that I don’t have any romantic feelings for her.’ Octavia sighed. ‘And you’re going to ask me on Saturday, and then at the next concert after that, and the one after that...’

‘Huh? Then why do you live with her?’

‘We’ve been friends since we were fillies, Vivace.’

‘Right! Right... now I remember! It’s a shame she couldn’t come to see your amazing solo finish, though!’

‘Really? You liked it too?’ Octavia stretched a wide smile and turned towards Vivace expectantly. ‘It’s... it’s nice to see everyone admiring your work.’

‘I never said I liked it. I don’t think that soloist could play a cello for her life! I think she should take some lessons from a real teacher—’

‘Like you’re any better!’ Octavia rebutted, playfully shoving her friend to the side. A short giggling escaped their lips as they came to one of Ponyville’s many townhouses, decorated with very little save for a treble clef engraved on the wooden door’s frame. ‘So, I’ll see you on Saturday, then?’

‘You better do your best, Octy!’

Octavia waved her hoof as Vivace skipped away, humming a rendition of the prior performance. I wonder if I could get Vinyl to come to one of my performances, she pondered, pushing the front door open. Maybe I’d get the same reaction that Vivace gave me. Wouldn’t mind having someone to talk to about these sort of things, especially if that someone lives with me.

Octavia began humming a soft tune as she walked into the house. Bare-surfaced stairs were going straight up in front of her, and two rooms on the eastern side of the building connected into the passage beside the staircase. The humming ended abruptly as she walked into the closest room—the living room, a simple space adorned with little more than a sofa, a radio sitting on a pedestal and unrecognizable sheets of music and remains of half-eaten food lying everywhere on the floor.

Octavia, watching her step as she walked across the room and recoiling at the thought of touching something, took a peek over the back of the tattered sofa and observed a sleeping mare, unable to see the look of disgust on her friend’s face through closed eyes.

'Vinyl!' Octavia yelled, prompting the snoozing pony to jump from the couch in surprise, the sudden motion of which caused her glasses to soar off of her face. Before they could hit the floor, her alerted mind instinctively snatched them in mid-air. 

'I see you're as alert as ever. How can you be so responsive already if you were only just sleeping?'

'Yo...' Vinyl began, recovering her cerise eyes with the untouched glasses. ‘I was trying to come up with some fresh beats on my own... guess I kinda made a mess. Maybe I was only half-asleep or something. Sorry I couldn't come to your concert; I really needed to get this done.'

‘This mess is really disgusting, Vinyl.’ Octavia sighed. ‘Did you make any progress with your work? It’d be great if you could finish soon so you can clean up in here; I like relaxing on the couch too, but not in a room like this.’

‘Yeah, yeah...’

‘So how far are you into it? Did you need any help with it?’ Octavia inquired. Maybe I can ease her into attending the concert. Not sure where to go from here...

'Ah, not very far... I've been here for a while—' Vinyl motioned towards the scattered mess of food and papers. '—but nothing has been coming to mind. I should probably get this finished... but on my own. No offense—we just have different styles, you know?’

Octavia harrumphed. ‘...Just because you say you’ll get it finished doesn’t mean that you’ll do it.’

‘Yeah.’

'...Sounds rough. I've got a talent seeker coming to see our group sometime in the next few weeks—not sure when—so I’m a little focused on my music too... wait, you need some inspiration?' Octavia asked, raising an eyebrow.

'Well, yeah. What are you getting at?'

'I really like seeing ponies I know in the audience before I play—'

'Let me just stop you right there,' Vinyl interrupted, holding out a hoof. 'I know what you're going to say, and the answer is no. No offense, but it's just not my style, you dig? It doesn't have that edge that ponies really like, the thing that sets it apart!'

‘You’ve never seen our group play, Vinyl. Too busy, remember?’

‘I’ve seen you play, though.’

‘It’s not the same when I’m practicing, that’s just my own thing.’

‘Well, it can’t be any different from that “Stilettos” group, can it?’ Vinyl stuck out her tongue. ‘Those guys were boring.’

Octavia stopped and brought her hoof to her chin, deep in thought.

Huh... an edge? Something to get ponies interested, something that isn’t “boring”? Maybe this will work for more than just Vinyl...

'As a matter of fact,' Octavia began, 'there is something of an “edge” I'll be putting into my next piece; it won’t sound anything like that concert I showed you. Today's Thursday, so you still have a few days to think of your song... interested?'

Vinyl lifted her own hoof to her head, rubbing it against her mane as she thought about the offer. After a few moments of consideration, she turned back to Octavia.

'For real? Something fresh, and not from that boring steel-toes group?' Vinyl questioned, prompting a nod from Octavia. 'Nice, I do like edgy music... ah, why not?’

'Excellent!' Octavia cheered, hugging her roommate. 'It's great to get other ponies involved with the theatre!'

'Hey now, don't go around thinking I'm in this permanently,' Vinyl said, pushing her roommate off of her tight embrace. ‘I'm just coming to hear you do... whatever you're doing, and nothing more. You know what I’m saying?’

'Yeah, I know what you mean. It's just something you're going to try, not necessarily to become a fan. You’d probably have enjoyed it already if you had just given it a chance before, though...'

‘Yeah, yeah, whatever. You got it.’ She promptly smiled, picked up a half-eaten slice of herb pizza in her mouth and made her way to the hallway. Octavia watched as her roommate left and promptly crashed on the moth-eaten couch, disregarding the mess all around her.

Better not screw this up, Octavia said with a sigh. She curled up on the couch and closed her eyes. Celestia knows the talent seeker might be our big break.


The Dancer



~|D|~


'Do you think the talent seeker is here?'

Vivace's words left her mouth laced with fear as she began taking a peek out of the theatre curtains. She darted her head to and fro repeatedly, attempting to find something out of the ordinary amidst the patient crowd.

'As long as we play our best, it won’t matter if he or she is here or not,' Octavia replied, trying her best to pull off an assuring smile. 'Don't worry, it's just your everyday normal concert! Play like you usually do!'

'Yes, I know... but I just can't shake the nerves off! Staccy is making this whole thing seem so important, and I'm not sure I can gather the energy to play like I usually do!'

Octavia poked her head outside the curtain just as her friend did, both of them hidden by the darkened lights on stage.

'Well, I don't think he would stand out even if he was here,' Octavia concluded. 'If he did stand out, though, we'd see it. And I don't see anything quite out of the ordinary—'

Octavia's eyes focused on a single, distinguishable figure going through the auditorium's main door, bearing a sharp blue mane and unmistakable shades covering her eyes.

'Huh,' Octavia said, bemused, 'she actually came. I honestly didn't think she would.'

A shuffling of hooves was heard behind the two as a figure approached them.

'Are you girls ready?' Staccato asked the two. 'We don't really have time to be staring out into the crowd, we should start in just a few moments.'

'Yeah, we're both ready,' Vivace replied. 'At least, I think Octavia is ready. I've got my trumpet right here!'

As Vivace picked up her trumpet lying on the backstage floor, Octavia went over to the side wall, picking up her own instrument to show Staccato. The mahogany bow remained attached on the cello, keeping tight to its side to prevent it from getting dropped.

'Good, good... now, what say we start this thing? That talent seeker could have our future waiting!'

The rest of the group, complete with their instruments, joined the trio right behind the curtains, each of them nodding their heads in agreement.
 
'Then let's get this show on the road! Raise the curtains!'

A dark-haired stallion at the side wall began pulling a string next to him, shifting the curtains to the side and silencing the watching crowd. The septet walked on stage, set up their instruments proper, Staccato's piano having already been set up, and squinted as the lights in the theatre lit up in an instant.

'You sure that you’re ready, Vivace?' Octavia whispered.

'I... I think I’ll be fine. Let’s hope we all stay that way, eh?’

Staccato's piano began chiming out a few high-pitched, introductory notes before the drum began beating, setting the pace for the rest of the group. Slowly, each member entered the first piece, playing their respective instruments softly and quietly. Suddenly, they all erupted in a burst of quick notes, concluding the first piece of the concert. The echo of the finale's impact reverberated for a moment in the theatre after the final note, turning every head in the theatre.

For the remainder of the concert, the soft moments were many and the quick, hard moments were few. The audience's reaction was initially filled with impressed smiles, but as the concert went on, only the fast-paced parts made any notable impact.

Hmm... an “edge” to my playing...

As the final song drew to a close, Vivace turned to Octavia with an anticipating gaze, waiting for her solo moment. As Staccato pressed the third highest key on the piano, followed by the second and finishing off with the highest note, the crowd prepared to start their applause. However, their attempt was cut off by a low, lengthy tune that poured out of Octavia's cello, drawing their attention towards her.

As she noticed the wary eyes focusing on her playing, she quickly changed to a more subtle tone. The other musicians turned to her as she continued playing notes, attempting to whisper to Octavia to make her stop. But it was of no use, as Octavia had quickly entered her own musical world, and had begun quickening her pace and variation of pitches without any outside distractions. Soon, she could barely keep her hoof up with the rapid tune that was quickly tiring her out.

Octavia's frantic movements vibrated the cello in ways she had never imagined, churning out fast-paced, complex string after string of notes, shocking the audience’s senses. The same could be said for the rest of the seven musicians on stage, who refrained from interrupting to make the unrehearsed piece appear more natural.

Octavia continued to remain in her own world, free of the accusing glares her bandmates kept giving as they glanced over towards her. There was one thing she did notice, however: the figure of a yellow, brown-maned mare was on stage, appearing seemingly out of thin air. Her movements seemed to go along with Octavia's notes, stepping or making a sharp jab every time she hit a high note. As she continued to slide her bow across her cello, her mind raced along question after question concerning the figure’s appearance.

She’s dancing...

Octavia's realization prompted her to stop the music, choosing instead to focus on the dancer on stage. As though she pushed some hidden button, the dancer suddenly stopped, turned to face Octavia and dissipated into thin air. A sense of longing to keep the dancer where she was filled Octavia, but a feeling of shock prevented her from moving her bow to churn out more musical notes. After a few moments, not a trace of the mare could be seen on the stage, leaving a bewildered cello player behind clutching her bow, still and unmoving.

Not a moment later and the audience's shocked faces turned to enthusiastic smiles, which led to a thunderous applause stronger than any Octavia—or any of the other musicians for that matter—had ever heard before. Every guest in the theatre was out of their seats, chanting cheers of "bravo!" and "amazing!" towards the confused cello player and her fellow performers.

The other members of the group raised their eyebrows and turned to each other, shrugging and exchanging surprised glances. Octavia shook from her focus on the now empty stage where the dancer had stood, looking towards the crowd with a pleased smile stretching out on her face. She caught a glimpse of the blue-maned mare she knew as her roommate, who was out of her seat just like the rest of the crowd, showing her shocked expression through lowered shades.

The other members of the group began waving and smiling, promptly departing the stage as the feeling wore down. As they passed Octavia to head backstage, mumbles of congratulations and praise passed by. None of those words, none of the audience members, not even Vinyl's shock was of any concern to Octavia at that moment as she turned her gaze back to the empty spot on stage.

'Who... who was that?'