Tightening her collar, the gray pony looked at the reflection staring back. Smile, then frown; smirk, then grin. Nodding to herself, she got up from the chair. Octavia had prepared for this show. It was a solo even that wouldn't last long. She had been asked to perform, of which she obliged.
The cool nights that accompanied this venue were gone. Replaced by frigid colds. Unnatural cold for a time such as this. However she did not mind; whatever weather came, she would persevere through. Compared to last week, when she was placed in a non-air conditioned room, filled to the brim with unkempt listeners. Sheer hell, but she managed; just as she would in this sodden weather.
Her waiting room door swung open, to an attendant poking their head in. "You're on in five Miss Philharmonic". With that they left as soon as they had entered. Leaving her alone once more.
Octavia searched near a set of couches, looking for something; voicing her discovery shortly after. Her cello. The only item she ever kept close, or cared deeply for. It has been with her since filly days, since she learned to play it, to perform with it. Back in those days, Octavia was new to the concept of having talent. With no cutie mark in sight, she had been free to do as she pleased. Vivid memories of being an anarchist towards others wishes. A phase that quickly came and went.
That cello helped her obtain her true desire: to be better at something, the best above all else. She learned early on through seeing more experienced musicians, that they were the best. They also had faults. Clear as day, each had something that shone as an imperfection. Octavia wanted to be like them: the best of the best, with the worst of the worst.
With case in hand, she sauntered out of the waiting room, and down the hall. The hallway leading to the stage had a bits of frost forming near crevices of wall and floor. Her room became a flaming pit compared to here. Strange weather indeed.
A cold chill trotted down the hall, lighting up Octavia's back instantly. He's here she thought. Cocking her head, she looked behind her for any sign of it. Nothing. But it was never nothing, it was always there-hiding just beyond sight. The Spirit was always waiting. The shadows in her view molded, blending into a dark eternity. Watch for the signs.
Sucking a chunk of the burning air, she quickened her pace. Something was following her, something unseen and horrid. Out of nowhere, a loud snap abruptly broke the clap of her hooves, echoing down the barren hall. Looking around, she noticed the source: a hanging bulb blew out. Snap! Behind her-at the far end-another broke. Without warning a chain reaction took place. Glass showered Octavia, all the light disappearing in waves. Complete darkness took her in no time. There she stood stock still, in darkness.
Another blast of icy air poured down her spine. Locking her in place, with no clue of where the inky blackness ended. The frightened mare zipped her eyes in all directions, searching. "Just come on out already!" Her cry pierced the nothing, finding its way farther down the hallway.
An ethereal, white arm appeared out of the black. Barely attached to the dark, floating beyond its capacity. The lanky fingers grasped her shoulders, pulling the rest of the figure forward. The Spirit. A ghostly form between colt and monster. It was draped in tattered cloths of an age-old suit, by the tearing. The creature didn't appear to be fully connecting to Octavia. A manifestation for sure, but there was a core missing-an illusion of its true self.
Slowly wrapping its fingers across her, the ghostly form took notice. "My my my...afraid aren't we?" Even its voice was disconnected.
"No, not anymore. Not for this most certainly," she responded abruptly. Throwing dagger eyes at it. Her words weren't fruitless in meaning.
The Spirit merely chuckled. "For what you are going to do, now that's funny". It swam further ahead, blocking her way. "I do not believe you have it in you my dear--".
"I'm not your friend!" She interrupted. "You'll be done with in no time...just you wait". She breezed through it, dispersing the form into mist. Not this time...not this time.
With the ghost gone, the shadows that circled around vanished. An exit being revealed in the haze.
A searchlight crossed the thresholds between those performing and the onlookers. The blue worked its way to a chair in the middle of the half-dome stage; lighting the heavy mist. Frigid temperature turned to near ice age. Octavia entered, striding towards her seat, her mane flowing and freezing. Shadow enveloped the audience, covering their gleaming eyes, those few smirks of contempt, a heavy cast of doubt. Tonight those eyes would bare a song, but would see no more. They wouldn't take notice to what was to occur.
Setting down, she unlocked the case, revealing her instrument. Reaching for it, she flinched. It wasn't a flinch out of fear or sadness, but passion. True passion that could vanquish the stars and cover everything in a beautiful night. Biting down hard on her lower lip, Octavia lifted the cello to her, whipping out her bow. Let us dance. Striking the air, the bow came down, hitting all strings, evoking a drawn out screech. The show was to begin!
"Enlightened Destruction" was the name of this piece. It didn't last long, but the impression did. Elegant whips cut across the body, Octavia held still with all her might, keeping up her posture. Packs of mist collected onto the stage, seeping into her space, filling the coldness with a damp vein. Heart beat quickening in pace, the notes flying faster than thought. She had kept still for a reason; for this reason.
A cloak of twisting mist swirled in a tornado of floating white. The cold went away, getting sucked within the being in front of her. It was larger-much larger-than before, but it was the very same: The Spirit. Pulsing and able to touch the world around...the physical manifestation.
It roared unlike any other creature. No longer did it have speech, or the capabilities; this was the true monster. Octavia merely stared at the gigantic creature. She stared at it not in anger; instead a tear trickled down her solemn face. Closing her eyes, she took a deep air-full of the scentless air. Opening her eyes, fierce pupils replaced the broken ones of before-striking the beast in its core.
The Spirit lunged forward, blasting the cold air and shards of ice with it. Octavia ducked, thrusting herself a few feet away. Quickly picking up her cello, she began to continue with the piece. The notes once more flung out from where she last left off. The Spirit turned around and flung an arm in her direction. The lanky fingers missed by mere inches, lodging themselves in the floorboards. Sprinkles of dust and wood coated the air.
Octavia was unmoved by this, still pouring out her bow over the cello. The piece took a new turn, a new voice. Instead of flashing portions of beauty, the notes told of sheer havoc. She was growing weary, but still her arm never slowed. Almost she said to herself. The only clear thought in her ravaged mind.
The beast continued to assault her, with Octavia prancing around them like a ballerina. One misstep and she was through. No time for mistakes.
Another swirling mass of bones and mist lunged towards her. Octavia smiled confidently, taking a step to her left. Bad move. The Spirit connected with her entire right side. The destruction dismissed, leaving Octavia standing there silent.
She couldn't tell, but there was a new feeling in her. Gazing on the side she got hit from, it was clear. Her right side was gone. It was no longer what it was a minute ago. The remains of the hit left its mark. Frozen. Frozen in granite, petrified in stone. She could feel nothing on that half of her body, no beating veins, no breathing, no life. Half-dead in an instant.
I'm done for she silently stated
...No!
Suddenly a voice yelled within her. To Octavia, the voice was familiar. It sounded off once more; louder and heavier. The owner was shouting to the heavens, calling for her to not give in...a familiar voice for sure. She calmed herself, focusing intently for the voice. "I'm getting the better of myself I speculate". At that, Octavia stared at the monstrosity, showing no emotion, taking great care to stay calm. "But you never will".
The Spirit bared its fangs, initiating a dive for the finishing blow. Ice shed from its hide, stabbing the stage and dome-lining. This was its time to strike.
Octavia saw the creature making a dive for her. Working fast, she wiggled her right side; trying to find a crack in the plating. Glancing back up, she saw a spear of ice narrowly miss her as it pierced the floor. Chink. Octavia looked back to her arm and saw a miracle: a break had opened up near her elbow. The ice shard thought to have missed, managed to slice of a chunk of the stone, releasing some of her arm. It wasn't a whole lot, but maybe just enough.
She furiously tore away at the break, tugging her whole free side. There were only a few moments before impact. "Cooome ooon you stupid--". The stone shattered. Falling limp to the floor, Octavia was free. Still not safe she thought looking towards the beast. With only a second to react, she rolled forward. Floorboards exploded upon the ghostly form hitting; ice slapped across the stage, with wood shavings littering the partition off the stage.
Her heart gave a jolt, forcing Octavia to jump up in pain. Getting to her hooves, she ran from the crumbling portion beneath her, to a safe distance. The Spirit jostled loose from the crater it formed, snapping its head back in place. An ethereal substance oozed from its body. Forgetting the injuries and blood, the creature spun around, searching for its prey. Octavia however was nowhere to be seen. Not believing her to be gone, it roared a sheet of ice over the stage; leaving no spot untouched by the frosty weapons.
"Over here!" The Spirit whipped to the stands, searching for the caller. "Not very smart...not like before," it stated. Looking down tot he lower seating area. it saw Octavia holding her cello. Shrieking in disgust, it surged to her.
"Goodbye," She whispered, playing the finale.
The Spirit froze midair, just before hitting Octavia. In quick succession the malformed creature slowly molted into dust, flowing away into the dark. Octavia lowered her arms, sighing in contempt relief.
A roar of applause accompanied her motion. The stands cheered and whistled in admiration. Octavia bowed in gratitude, accepting a thrown rose. Taking her instrument in hoof, she exited the dome. What they witnessed was a true musician. This was just another performance for the sophisticated mare; with admiration and all.