In an Instant

by Ruirik

Rhythm, Melody, Harmony

Note: This chapter features a lot of music links. While they are not required, I do recommend them for the optimal experience.

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“All right everypony,” Allegro called out over the crowded concert hall. His voice cutting through the myriad conversations between the musicians, “We’ve got a couple last minute rearrangements to make in the schedule, please make note of it on your set lists.”

Octavia’s body reacted on instinct, her hooves shuffling around the music into the order Allegro had dictated. Her thoughts were at the hospital, with Vinyl. Soma assured them both two days earlier that the searing pain in Vinyl’s forelegs was a good sign. Neither of them believed it, the events of the last couple weeks having beaten down their reserves of hope. The Vinyl she loved was slipping into despair and the uncertainty if she would recover from it terrified Octavia.

Vinyl needed hope; she needed tangible progress that allowed her to feel like she had some control of her life again. Her career had been hanging by a thread, optimistically speaking, after the accident. After the Manehatten Enquirer’s cover, Octavia couldn’t imagine her prospects would improve. Octavia’s outrage had been quelled slightly by Dr. Poultice’s actions. A security guard was at Vinyl’s door at all hours now, and Poultice had ensured that a guard would remain there as long as Vinyl was hospitalized.

Octavia couldn’t help but be surprised by how personally offended Poultice had been by the act. His profuse apologies to both Vinyl and herself were commendable enough, but he had also pulled Octavia aside and given her the contact information for his brother, who apparently was a lawyer. Octavia still had the stallion’s information tucked in the bottom of her saddlebag. Sometime the concert she would make time to speak with him, there had to be some form of recourse for Vinyl, right?

She took a deep breath and held it for a moment before slowly exhaling through her mouth. Allegro directed the orchestra through their final rehearsal, though Octavia scarcely was aware of it. Her body reacted on instinct, decades of practice and countless hours of experience allowed her to play her parts with ease, albeit without her usual passion. Though who could blame her mind for being elsewhere? She was lost in her own world

She barely noticed when the rehearsal ended, all but blind to the ponies moving around her as she stared at her music stand. The tiny lamp that illuminated her score gave the paper a trace of yellow color. If she squinted her eyes just right, it was a perfect match for Vinyl’s coat. Allegro’s hoof gently tapped on her shoulder, breaking her of her reverie.

“Is everything all right, Octavia?” he asked kindly.

“Hm? Oh, I’m sorry, I’m playing awfully.” She frowned, unsure if she had actually made mistakes or not.

“Oh, no, no, no.” He smiled “Technically speaking your playing just fine, there’s just not much heart in it today.”

Octavia laughed softly, “I can’t disagree with that I suppose.”

“Is Vinyl doing well?” He asked, voice hushed so no other musicians heard.

“It’s been a trying week.” The cellist admitted, rubbing her eyes wearily with a sigh. “I guess my heart just isn’t in it today.”

Allegro frowned lightly, his concern apparent in his eyes.

“Walk with me.” He stated firmly. Octavia raised an eyebrow at the request, but quickly nodded. Before joining him, she carefully placed her cello and bow back into their case. Allegro led her off the stage at a casual pace; the two passed a pair of Zebra stallions as well as a male and female griffon along the way. The four were engaged in what appeared, at least in passing, to be a spirited debate. Octavia hadn’t met any of them formally, though she was aware they had been brought in for specific songs.

Allegro led her through the crowded backstage and up through the staff only staircases, the utilitarian corridors eventually depositing them back into the opulent upper seating areas. Allegro pushed open one of the black fabric curtains that secluded the private box seats from the hall, motioning for Octavia to take a seat.

Hesitantly at first, she entered the box, the chairs for the boxes were considerably higher in quality then the common seating was. The wooden frames were expertly carved into intricate vine and floral patters that had an almost lifelike quality. Gold paint covered the woods natural color and balanced well with the vibrant red cushions.

Octavia hesitated to sit in such opalescence, partially out of a sense of unworthiness, partially out of decorum. The hesitation evaporated fairly quickly when Allegro carelessly flopped into one of the seats, allowing himself to practically melt into the cushions with no sense of his age, station, or propriety. The cellist chuckled, there was little doubt in her mind Vinyl and Allegro would be fast friends if they spent any time together. She took the seat beside him, and observed the stage.

The Griffon had moved from where she had seen him last to a position by the piano. There he, along with Largo the pianist, and Concerto the first chair violinist were engaged in what Vinyl would have called an ad hoc jam session. Largo and the Griffon, who had an acoustic guitar slung over his shoulder, played a simple rhythm while Concerto’s violin sang out an improvised melody.

After a few minutes of playing the lead, he matched their rhythm while the Griffon took the lead on his guitar. His talons allowing him to play intricate arpeggios and scales on his instrument that only a prodigal Unicorn could hope to match. Like Concerto, he played for several minutes before passing the melody along to Largo. The Earth pony grinned in a way Octavia hadn’t seen in a very long time as he played a surprisingly jazzy tune while the violin and guitar kept rhythm.

“Tell me, Octavia,” Allegro started softly. “What’s on your mind?”

Octavia was quiet for a minute before she answered, her violet eyes staring vacantly into space.

“I don’t know. I just…I just feel wrong not being with Vinyl right now.” She admitted. “It—it’s like I’m abandoning her when she needs me.”

Allegro nodded, “Did Vinyl have anything to say about you playing tonight?”

“She insisted on it.” Octavia chuckled. “It was either walk here on my own, or she would have Lyra drag me here.

Allegro smirked, the thought of Lyra forcibly dragging a typically dignified and reserved mare like Octavia was something he would probably pay to witness.

“So, Vinyl insisted you be here tonight, but you feel at odds about it?” he asked.

Octavia nodded sadly, her eyes downcast. Allegro hummed, remaining quiet for a moment before he spoke again.

“So, are you the rhythm or the melody?” He asked, his query interrupting Octavia’s thoughts.

“Pardon?” She asked in confusion, the old Unicorn chuckled, his eyes watching the musicians below.

“Forgive this old composers analogy.” He smiled. “A strong, loving relationship is a beautiful harmony. Harmony is the successful fusion of rhythm with melody. The melody leads the mind, makes our imaginations dance. The rhythm is the foundation, the often-understated core that appeals to our emotions and keeps us honest.

Back when I was a music student, when dirt was young, my teacher called them the meat and bones. Melody was the meat, rhythm the bones. One couldn’t function without the other, no matter how strong they were individually. Over the years I’ve learned it applied to more than just my music. For example, take my relationship with my wife.

She’s the rhythm in my life. Always there for me, always with a clear perspective and a steadfast resolve. When I doubt myself, when I feel overwhelmed, she’s there to support me. Conversely, I draw her out of her shell. I push her to try new things, explore new ideas, and express herself.” Allegro chuckled softly, a distant smile on his lips.

“I can’t pretend to understand how difficult this must be for the both of you,” He said, placing a hoof on her shoulder, “but if it were me, and my wife was in Vinyl’s position…” he hesitated, a chill running down his spine at the thought, “if I felt that my performing helped her emotionally, then I would give the performance of my life.”

Octavia remained quiet as she mulled over his words. He patted her shoulder as he rose to his hooves.

“The doors open in two hours. Think it over, and remember that this orchestra is a family. We’re all here for you if you need to talk.” He said gently before he left her to her thoughts.

What was Vinyl to her? The answer was seemingly obvious. Vinyl was the love of her life, but what did that love entail? The cellist had never particularly analogized and analyzed their relationship like Allegro had. It was just the two of them, together in almost everything. When they were in college, Vinyl had been there for Octavia when she had struggled though her difficult moments. Likewise, Octavia had been there to comfort Vinyl when she had been unable to cope with the often-vicious condescension of traditional musicians.

The realization struck Octavia like a shot; Vinyl was her melody. Before Vinyl had become a part of her life, Octavia was just a lonely rhythm. She had always been the good girl, demure and proper. She did her schoolwork, learned her cello, and kept to herself. Then she had been introduced to Vinyl, an unchained melody with no rhythm to focus her. Together they had managed to find their harmony, and happiness. Further still, Vinyl had given Octavia the courage and the drive to find a melody of her own.

After that cold afternoon in the rain, Octavia had been terrified to let Vinyl out of sight. She felt guilty, guilty that it had been Vinyl to be hurt instead of her. Guilty that she had so casually let her love walk away alone. Guilty that she could do all the things she loved, while Vinyl could only lie and watch as her life fell to pieces around her.

Octavia could see Vinyl was doing her best to put on a brave face and conceal her feelings. It was painfully obvious to the Earth pony, not because of any particular nonverbal tick Vinyl presented, but because of history. She had seen Vinyl act brave and strong before, and she had believed it for the longest time. Octavia sighed, leaning back in her seat as she recalled the day she found the mare beneath the mask.

They had been students at the Canterlot Music University, Equestria’s most prestigious college for up and coming musicians and composers. Only the most promising young musicians were able to attend. It was where Octavia had first met Lyra and Vinyl as well as Allegro. Back then he had already become a successful composer and conductor for theaters and often served as a guest professor at the college when he was in town.

Lyra and Octavia met their freshmen semester in the symphony and had quickly become friends. Octavia respected Lyra’s skill with harps and lyres, while the unicorn had deeply enjoyed hearing Octavia play here cello. She had met Vinyl in passing as well, though both of them hadn’t taken a particular interest, positive or negative.

The summer before her third semester was when things changed, Lyra was looking to rent a townhouse off campus to live in with her marefriend Bon Bon, but the two couldn’t afford it on their own. So they had reached out to their circle of friends to see who else would be willing to rent with them. Octavia, having never liked dormitory living, signed on immediately, only finding out later, and to her embarrassing chagrin, that Vinyl had agreed as well.

She had expected Vinyl to be an uncouth, vulgar, slob of a pony prone to bouts of hyperactivity and overreaction. And while Vinyl certainly wouldn’t ever be mistaken for a well-to-do Canterlot mare, and had a sense of humor that vacillated between vulgar and peculiar, she was surprisingly organized, polite, and friendly. The two formed an amicable, if cool relationship over the summer months.

Octavia regretted those days. Vinyl had always been friendly and went out of her way to try and engage the cellist. For the most part Octavia had ignored the efforts, assuming Vinyl’s overtures were merely the superficial advances of a vapid mare that was at best harmless and at worst could distract her from her studies. She still recalled the day that changed her opinion.

“I’m telling you, Octavia,” Arietta said, her voice laced with irritation, “my partner is bloody incompetent.”

Octavia quirked her eyebrow at her friend, Arietta was a light brown unicorn with a blonde mane. She was an excellent soprano singer, and had a decent grasp of the piano, though her compositional skills were average at best. She and Octavia had both been born and raised in Canterlot, though the young cellist liked to believe her Earth pony heritage left her a touch more humble than her Unicorn companion.

“Are we talking about your duet partner again or somepony else?” Octavia asked with a smirk.

“My composition partner, a dullard of a unicorn who thinks she’s a composer.” Arietta groaned.

“Is she one of those improvisational types that can’t read sheet music well?” Octavia asked.

“I’m not sure she’s even a proper musician.” The unicorn huffed. “The writing is so simplistic! There’s no challenge to it! Repetition seems to be her only real skill.”

Octavia nodded, knowing better then to interrupt a ranting soprano. She did value her eardrums after all. She spent the majority of their walk nodding her head and occasionally mumbling an “I see” or “mm-hmm” to maintain the illusion she was actually paying attention. It was easier to let Arietta’s rant run it’s course and just be done with it, and Octavia didn’t have the interest in a long lecture or debate.

“So,” Arietta finished as the two reached the end of their shared walk, “if you ever get paired with a blue-maned unicorn with an eighth note cutie mark, run for your bloody life. She’s like, I don’t know … musical cancer.”

Octavia froze for a moment. She couldn’t be talking about Vinyl, could she? The cellist didn’t offer an opinion on the matter as the two parted ways for their separate homes. She felt a tingling sense of unease run down her spine. Vinyl’s taste in music was … unique, to be sure, and from the little Octavia had heard of her original compositions they didn’t sound that technically interesting, but Octavia didn’t have the slightest idea of how to create the type of music that Vinyl specialized in.

“Perhaps she’s talking about a different Unicorn,” Octavia mused aloud, “It’s not like Vinyl is the only pony with blue hair and an eighth note cutie mark.”

The thought did little to soothe the unsettling tension she felt. With a purposeful frown, she picked up her pace for home. Lyra and Bon Bon botht worked late on Fridays, which often left Vinyl and Octavia alone with each other. Usually the two kept to themselves. Octavia would practice her cello or read while Vinyl would sequester herself away in her room working on whatever it was she did in there for hours on end. Sometimes they would share a carry-in meal and make small talk. Octavia decided tonight might be a good night for that, perhaps there was something to be learned about the Unicorn.

Entering the darkened house she took care to set her cello case somewhere safe before looking for Vinyl. What struck her as peculiar was the quiet. When Vinyl worked, she liked to work loud, without headphones. She claimed that contained sound of the headphones didn’t allow her to notice irregularities when the sound was in an uncontrolled environment. It had been another instance where Octavia had been nodding her head and saying “yes” without actually listening to the conversation.

“Vinyl?” she called.

Hearing no response, Octavia simply assumed the mare must have gone out for something. With a frown she made her way upstairs, mulling over the conversation with Arietta. She paused when she reached Vinyl’s door, a strange sound catching her attention. Pressing her ear to the door she listened carefully, silence greeted her for several long seconds before she heard it again; a choked cry, raw and primal. Octavia’s heart skipped a beat, without thinking, she pushed the door open.

She had seen Vinyl’s room before, while nopony would ever accuse the Unicorn of being a neat freak, there was a certain level of organization to her things. Her desk was usually half-buried in papers and stacked with tools and parts for whatever gear she was playing with at the time. Her gear she treated with the same reverence Octavia treated her cello or Lyra treated her lyre. Today was vastly different from normal.

Hundreds of sheets of tablature were strewn about the floor, many torn into pieces and stomped upon. Tools and gramophone parts were cast all about the room, some broken and others seemingly crushed underhoof. Vinyl herself was curled up into a ball on her mattress, her head buried in her pillow that was bearing the full onslaught of her tears.

Octavia took a nervous step into the room, her lavender eyes taking in the destruction laid out before her. She kneeled down to inspect a half shredded piece of parchment. The top piece was labeled “cello”, the one below it was written for violin, below that was yet another instrument. Each one had a simple progression to play, but combined they formed a complex polychord. On its own, it wasn’t terribly interesting for the musician playing his or her part, but she could see it being something special if all the pieces were combined in a symphony.

‘Is this what Arietta was upset about?’ she wondered, returning her attention to the distraught mare. Swallowing hard, she stepped toward Vinyl’s bed.

“V—Vinyl?” she called hesitantly.

Vinyl’s shoulders sagged noticeably, her head slowly lifting from the pillow. Her brows were furrowed together, the whites of her eyes tinted pink, and her lips were pulled back into an anguished frown. The fur on her cheeks and around her eyes was thoroughly saturated with countless tears. Her eyes focused on Octavia momentarily, without her glasses she had trouble identifying the mare standing across her room.

“Go away.” She whimpered after a moment.

“Vinyl, w—what happened? Are you alright?” Octavia took a step forward. Vinyl’s frown turned into an enraged snarl.

“Get. OUT!” She shouted, a burst of power from her horn shoving Octavia several feet back.

“Vinyl!” Octavia shouted, both frightened and angered. “You could have hurt me!”

“Just buck off. Just … just please, go away.” The unicorn pleaded. “Just leave me alone, like you always do.”

Octavia stood her ground, albeit more wary of Vinyl’s capabilities now.

“Vinyl, why would you tear up all your compositions?” she asked softly. Rage overtook Vinyl’s features.

“Why? Why?!” The livid mare shouted, hopping off her bed. Her magic roughly pulled multiple sheets from their resting place on the floor, shoving them just in front of Octavia’s snout. “Garbage! It’s GAR-BAGE!” She screamed, crushing the papers in her telekinetic grip and throwing them into the wall with enough force to cause a loud thump.

"V—Vinly, calm down!” Octavia pleaded, stepping back from the Unicorn.

“Why? Why should I?” Vinyl shouted, the tears streaming from her eyes. “Didn’t you hear the news? Vinyl Scratch, the shame of Canterlot Music University! It’s worthless tripe! I can’t write music, I can’t play instruments, I can’t even land a steady bucking JOB!” she exploded, lashing out at her gramophone with a hoof. The heavy metal box crashed to the floor with a loud bang. Octavia spotted a red gash on Vinyl’s foreleg where she had struck the edge of the case.

Vinyl panted heavily, her face flushed red from the emotional catharsis. The rage melted into anguish as she sank to the floor, surrounded by her ravage work. Her hooves covered her eyes as a fresh wave of sobs wracked her body.

“It’s all been a waste,” she whimpered quietly, her small frame curling into a tight ball “all a waste.”

Octavia stared down in horror. She couldn’t believe that this was the same happy-go-lucky mare that she had shared a home with. Had the Vinyl she known always been a charade? An insecure mare hiding behind a smile and a mask of indifference?

The cellist did the only thing she could think of; she lay beside Vinyl, pulled her into a hug, and held her while she wept.

Sighing heavily she pressed her hooves over her eyes. The years between that fateful night had been full of the highest highs and now had found their lowest low. Vinyl hadn’t written symphony since that night, no matter how much Octavia had encouraged her to try. She still held out hope that one day Vinyl would pick up the quill again to pen her long neglected symphony, though after her accident, the cellist would be willing to settle for Vinyl just having use of her forelegs.

“What would you do if you were in my position, love?” She whispered to herself, only the distant murmurs of the musicians below her answered. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, a memory from Vinyl’s second night in the hospital echoed in her mind.

“Hey Tavi?” Vinyl had asked, her voice trembling from the pain in her body.

“Hmm?”

“Do…Do you think you could you play for me, please?”

Octavia chuckled, a sad smile gracing her lips.

“You would want me to play, wouldn’t you?” She lamented quietly. With a light groan, she rose to her hooves and stretched her stiff muscles.

“Anything for you, Vinyl.” She whispered as she made her way downstairs.

The musicians were taking their last opportunity to walk around the theater, use the restroom, and visit the cocktail lounge before the doors opened to let in the audience. Octavia spotted Lyra engaging in her preshow ritual of a simple mixed drink to calm her nerves. It never ceased to amuse the cellist that Lyra could perform on a lonely park bench in Ponyville all day and all night without a care in the world, but playing in an orchestra made her nervous.

She knew better then to interrupt the Unicorn’s drink, as did most of the other musicians they had worked with before. Lyra was a very grouchy pony until her glass was empty. Octavia wandered the lobby for a little while, sharing a brief hello with various musicians, until a sandwich board caught her attention.

It occurred to Octavia, with no small amount of shame that she had never once asked what the show was about. Allegro had merely offered her work, and she had accepted without anything more then a date and time to mark in her calendar. On one hoof, it was refreshing to play songs that were newer then the concept of locomotives, on the other hoof she highly doubted the probability of this show succeeding with the stuffy old crowed that tended to purchase tickets to the symphony.

Octavia meandered about the theater for a while longer before returning backstage to put on her tailed tuxedo jacket and reaffirm her bowtie was on straight. After giving herself a once over in a mirror she made her way to the stage and took up her cello, checking the tuning one more time.

She turned the pages in her binder back to the beginning and read the name of the piece, Generations (Overture), by one Jerry Goldhoof. Reading through the piece, she realized why she had so easily forgotten it. There was simply little of interest for a musician of her caliber, no sweeping arpeggios of 32nd notes that pushed her abilities to their limit. A supporting role was what her section seemed to be. She felt a smile come to her lips as she recalled an old argument with Vinyl, not long after the Unicorn’s breakdown.

“No Tavi, you’re hearing the sections, but you’re not listening to the music!” the exasperated Unicorn groaned, her hooves flailing in front of her.

“The music is made from the sections Vinyl.” Octavia deadpanned. “And this is unconscionably boring for all of them.”

“Uhg! You’re so fixated on every single tree that you can’t see the forest!” Vinyl shouted in exasperation.

“There’s no forest to see.” Octavia grumbled.

Vinyl let out an annoyed shout before returning her gaze to Octavia, fire in her ruby eyes. “You know what? Stop. Just stop. Stop focusing on the strings, don’t obsess on the percussion, and don’t overthink the polychords, pentatonics, arpeggios, and syncopations! Your ears are the problem here!”

“What in the world do you even mean?”

The alabaster hoof pressed against her chest

“Here, listen from here. Stop hearing the musicians at work and start listening to the song they bring to life. Feel its emotion in your gut, see the colors it paints in your mind! The soul of a song isn’t in the notes alone! When you look at a painting do you just see a bunch of brush strokes, or do you see another place?”

She switched to a different record, and let the first song play.

“Don’t hear musicians, listen to the song.”

Octavia sighed. She tried, she really, truly tried, but Vinyl had never quite gotten her to see past the trees. She had long since abandoned hope for that particular project, but she would continue trying. Perhaps one day, she could surprise the Unicorn with her own revelation. She smiled, she could all but hear Vinyl whispering words of encouragement with a loving smile.

“I believe in you, Tavi.” The absent mare would say. Octavia felt a familiar pang of sadness in her chest. She wished Vinyl could be backstage, or perhaps in a part of the audience to watch her perform. Vinyl may not have preferred symphony, but she always did have an appreciation for it that Octavia couldn’t help but find romantic.

She casually flipped through the pages of her music as the audience began to file into their seats. The musicians all did their last minute rituals, practicing specific arpeggios, folding the corners of their music, tuning obsessively, whatever helped their preshow jitters. To Octavia’s great surprise, the auditorium filled to capacatiy with ponies from their late teens to their late sixties all in attendance. She couldn’t recall ever seeing such an actuarially diversified audience before.

About five minutes after seats were filled, Allegro made his appearance on stage, wearing his tuxedo jacket and a back bowtie. The audience politely stomped their hooves at the promise of the show’s imminent beginning. Allegro bowed respectfully to the audience before stepping onto his pedestal, his horn flaring to life and taking his old baton from it’s resting place on his podium. With a nod to the first chairs he counted them into their first song.

The strings began the piece, a quiet, slowly building note. A solitary horn called out from the back of the orchestra, several beats of a drum punctuating the notes. A second horn joined the first as the strings and woodwinds slowly built the piece to a resounding peak that quickly faded into a reflective section. The strings held the rhythem, understated and nostalgic, while the horn player carried a lonely melody. Octavia heard Vinyl’s words echo in her mind:

Octavia nearly lost control of her bow. She could see it, like the sun rising over a field of ripened wheat in the crisp autumn air. The harmony of strings, woodwind, percussion, and brass combined into a sweeping resolve, no one section holding power over another. Each section became integral to the piece, small pieces forming a greater whole. She could almost see Vinyl smiling in her mind.

The first section ended as it began, the strings holding a single note. Again the lonely horn sang out a lonely melody before it was joined by other horns. A wind chime cast it’s ethereal sound over them, her mind called to life visions of a starry sky, the world light by the pale light of Princess Luna’s moon. The strings were more reserved than in the first section, the violins played a delicate counter melody with the brass before all the sections joined in a gentle resolve.

Silence reigned over the auditorium for several long seconds as the song ended before the rapturous applause from the audience greeted them. Octavia could see Allegro smiling happily, though he remained at his podium. He let the audience quiet down before he counted in the next song.

This time the percussion took the lead, the xylophonist tapping out an inquisitive rhythm. Lyra’s harp joined them, plucking a melody that spoke of childlike curiosity. Layers of music gradually added ontop of those sections, the bass behind Octavia giving weight to certain beats. Before fading away. The strings eventually joined the piece, playing a simple arpeggio that gave energy to the song and danced with the other sections.

Little by little things built upon each other, the choir casting an ethereal mood over the orchestra. The energy of the strings built to a zenith before fading just as quickly, the entire orchestra fading to the understated beat of drums while the choir took sole command of the performance. The sopranos, altos, and tenors, were broken into subsections that melted in to a polychord before fading away to the gentle accompaniment of the strings.

The audience again made their approval known, louder then before. Allegro again waited for their silence before beginning the next song. Largo took the lead, his piano counting out a gentle rhythm, the strings filling in behind him. The choir sang an understated hymn through which Octavia could hear Lyra’s harp building into the rhythm.

Her mind flooded with memories of her first winter with Vinyl, the two of them walking through the snowy streets, and the sky overcast with a uniform grey. She could almost hear the gentle sound of snowfall and the crunch of snow underhoof. She could almost smell the winter air that filled her lungs, and she could all but feel Vinyl’s warmth driving away the cold.

Octavia closed her eyes, this song was hers to lead and she had long ago memorized her notes. Her cello called out its mournful song as her bow ran over the strings. She poured all her worry, all her sadness, and all her love into her music. The notes that only hours ago had been flat and lifeless seemed to dance through the air. She didn’t realize she had been crying until the song was over and the cheering filled her ears. She looked around, momentarily confused. She could see several members of the orchestra trying to inconspicuously wipe their eyes. Allegro was smiling directly at her, his own eyes glistening. He offered a simple nod, the pride clear in his visage.

The next song was significantly more upbeat then the last one. A tribal percussion and an active choir carried the orchestra on a world-spanning journey. The two Zebras she had seen earlier stepped to the front of the stage where microphones had been set up earlier. The bassist behind Octavia took sole control of the song as the first zebra began to sing in Zebrican.

“Baba yetu, yetu uliye Mbinguni yetu, yetu, amina! Baba yetu, yetu, uliye, jina lako litukuzwe.” His voice rang clearly over the audience, the choir echoing his verse.

“Utupe leo chakula chetu,” the second Zebra sang, his baritone voice meshing well with his companions, “tunachohitaji utusamehe”

“Makosa yetu, hey!” The first stallion called, smiling gleefully.

“Kama nasi tunavyowasamehe, waliotukosea usitutie” The second answered

“Katika majaribu, lakini” took over the verse, both stallions singing the next phrase.

“Utuokoe, na yule, milelea milele!”

The symphony took over again, the strings and choir building a power in the piece that culminated in the baritone Zebra singing out his solo with a passion Octavia rarely heard. His companion’s verse intertwined with own, both stallions lost in their music, their words unknowable to all of the ponies in the room, but still enrapturing in their feeling. Both stallions bowed graciously when the song ended, the accolades of the crowed washing over them.

There was a bit of a pause as the next song set up, the Griffoness taking the stage with her companion, a Griffon wielding a guitar. When they were both ready Allegro counted in the song. Octavia took the moment to read the title of the piece, a word written in the Griffon language dominated the header, a translation was marked below in equestrian: Praan, ‘Life’.

Largo’s piano began to play an upbeat melody, the Griffon’s guitar joining him after a few measures, the unique pizzicato sound interplaying with the percussion and the piano. The Griffoness began her part in the language of her people. Her voice soared over the audience, the words and music flowing together like nothing Octavia had ever been a part of before. The guitar gave power to the rhythm; the heavy percussion carried them along at a brisk pace.

Octavia could see it in her mind, soaring through the clouds of the Griffon kingdoms, an unfettered joy in their gift of flight. The song harkened to mind a jubilant exaltation for living. Octavia smiled, Vinyl would have loved the song. And if it was good enough for Vinyl, then Octavia would pour her soul into her part, simplistic as it might have otherwise been.

There was a brief intermission after the song, after which the rest of the show went by seemingly at a breakneck pace for the cellist. Vinyl might not have been able to see her perform in person, but as long as the Unicorn was alive, Octavia could always feel her loving support. Just before the finale song, Allegro took a moment to address the audience for the first time. He thanked them for their patronage, thanked the orchestra for their performance, and gently reminded them of the donation box set up in the lobby for Vinyl’s medical bills.

During his speech the Griffon guitarist had returned to the stage, sitting not too far from Octavia on a wooden stool. Beside him was a pegasus mare, her coat the same color as Vinyl’s but with a long sandy blonde mane. When Allegro finished his speech with one last bow to the audience he counted them in.

The guitarist plucked a pair of harmonic notes, the orchestra joining him in a restrained song. As the mare began to sing her song, emotion swelled through the auditorium. There would be no dry eyes in the building before she was done.