Twilight Sparkle felt exceedingly insecure at that moment as she instinctively put Applejack between herself and the other occupants of the train.
It was one thing to simply catch a train to Canterlot, but another thing entirely to catch the train to Canterlot whilst wearing the sweeping blue ball gown Rarity had designed for her, the one she had worn to the Grand Galloping Gala. Whilst she was always an aficionado of almost all things alliterative, of course, the Gala itself had been a bit of a disappointment.
Twilight Sparkle had never really fit in in Canterlot, not nearly as much as Rarity would have to say the least, growing up. Her parents had always been scholarly and not much for the inane politics of the capital city, of course, but they were in the minority it seemed.
So, whilst Twilight never actually associated herself with the ‘finer’ ponies of society, others quite often associated her with them. A big problem with that is the wealth that comes inherent with such classifications, the entitlement of titles as it were, so as Twilight sat on the train in her gorgeous dress she couldn’t help but feel terrified despite herself.
Rarity was mostly oblivious to her friend’s fear, what little ticks she picked up on more than easily attributed to the awkward unicorn’s typical neuroses, basking in the attention of the other ponies on the bustling carriage. The attention quite often spilled over to Twilight, which just made her even more uncomfortable amidst the piercing and inquisitive gazes.
There was a solace in Applejack’s shadow, though. The practical farmgirl, though dressed in her own extravagant outfit, had a level of apathy for the attention she was receiving almost bordering on disdain.
Twilight noted that whilst Applejack was far too straightforward to be passive-aggressive the pile of refined muscle beside her was doing an exceptional job at being aggressively-passive. The sheer indifference radiating off her seemed to repel most approachers, supposedly Rarity’s would-be suitors based on her pout as each one shrivelled back, one by one, from Applejack’s stony gaze.
“Well,” Applejack woke Twilight from her own introspection with a ‘soft’ jab to the ribs that nonetheless caused her to wince, “You’ve been awful quiet there, Twi, somethin’ the matter?”
“I am sharing a sudden overwhelming amount of empathy for Fluttershy right now, I think.”
“All this attention,” Applejack gestured at their dresses and nodded towards Rarity, who was currently grinning ruthlessly at some of the more dashing stallion passengers, “Bummin’ you out too, huh?”
The unicorn nodded almost imperceptibly. “I’m not used to all this attention, Applejack. I like books. You can read a book without them trying to read you back!” She moaned, slumping in her chair slightly.
“Yeah, it was like this with my aunt and uncle too, growin’ up in Manehattan.” Applejack grunted slightly, pulling the brim of her Stetson lower over her face as she continued, “All them frilly porcelain ponies tryin’ to gauge you, psych you out. I felt like a hog on market day, all those ponies starin’ at me tryin’ to figure out what I was worth. Even to your own family there, Twilight, you can just feel like a slab of meat they trot out for showin’ off. Ain’t right, ain’t right one bit.”
“I don’t get how some ponies can enjoy that sort of attention.” Another meaningful nod at Rarity, who was currently batting her eyelashes at one of the newer passengers, a brown earth pony with a shock of a darker mane and an hourglass cutie mark. Twilight couldn’t help but think he was actually pretty cute, if not handsome, as he blushed furiously and tried desperately to look away from Rarity’s lightning gaze. “It’s sort of...” Twilight trailed off thoughtfully.
The train lurched, knocking the earth pony that was Rarity’s latest victim off balance, and his head hit the table of the booth he was sitting at. Twilight and Applejack shared a brief glance of worry when he didn’t sit back up. They finally noticed, alerted by Rarity’s almost evil giggling, that the pony was grinning like an idiot into the table, finally somewhere safe from the siren call that had him so captivated.
“Demeanin’.” Applejack deadpanned. “Degradin’? A majorly embarrassin’ pain in the hoof?”
“I was going to say ‘scary’, actually.”
Applejack smiled and wrapped a foreleg around Twilight shoulders, pulling her in for an impromptu half-hug.
“Hey, don’t you worry ‘bout it, Twi.” Applejack used the tone she reserved for reading Applebloom a bedtime story, “You can have Bucks McGillicuddy if anythin’ goes to Tartarus in a saddlebag. I’ve still Kicks McGee for myself, and that’s more than enough.”
“It’s not really that sort of thing I’m afraid of,” Twilight muttered, appreciating the affectionate gesture nonetheless, “I mean, between Shining Armour teaching me shields like only he can, and my own ability to vaporize stuff just by thinking about it hard enough, a hoof doesn’t quite cut it.” Twilight gave a weak, apologetic smile.
“I mean, I’m not bragging, and I know you’re really strong, and I don’t think I’m better than you-”
“Yeah, but Twilight, did you maybe consider,” Applejack looked around thoughtfully as she cut Twilight off, “That I might want the excuse to go toe to toe with one of those hoity-toity pompous jerks and show ‘em how we do it down on the farm?”
Twilight and Applejack shared an easy grin.
“What are you grinning about now, Rarity?” Applejack huffed indignantly.
“You two look adorable together like that.” Rarity couldn’t suppress a little squeal even if she tried.
She didn’t try at all, frankly.
“Hey Twilight’s not into-” Applejack turned to the other unicorn thoughtfully, “You aren’t, are you?”
“I fall in love with the mind, not the vessel.” Twilight muttered darkly, internally flinching as anticipated Applejack’s knee jerk reaction, the pleasant friendly hug to disappear in an instant.
An instant that never seemed to come.
Twilight opened her eyes, realizing she’d been forcing them scrunched shut since her own hasty admission, and looked at Applejack in wonderment.
“You’re... you aren’t mad at me?”
“What?” Applejack flinched then, holding Twilight closer a little, “No! No, oh geeze, no, and don’t you ever think that. Sugar cube, you constantly make me wonder how a pony as bright as Celestia’s sun can still be thicker than two planks length-ways sometimes.”
“It’s just, I mean, almost everypony says they’re okay with it, but like-”
“I’m still touchin’ ya without actin’ like you’re somethin’ from the Everfree?”
“Yes!” Twilight blurted out, throwing her hooves over her mouth seconds later. “I mean, you’re acting-”
“Just about the same as I was thirty seconds ago?”
“How much of a hypocrite would I be if I asked you to stop being right?”
Applejack chuckled, tussling Twilight’s mane playfully much to Rarity’s chagrin.
“I may not be as intamallectual as you unicorns but I still got good old country-style wisdom floatin’ around in my noggin’. Also, I’m best friends with Rainbow Dash, it sort of comes part and parcel with her.”
Twilight smiled in relief, the last bit of creeping worry and doubt flowing down through her and out through her hooves, seeping through the floor and away, leaving her feeling light and relieved.
“You should always trust your friends, sugarcube.” Applejack winked.
‘This should make a great letter to the Princess this week, but there’s one thing that’s still nagging at me.’
“What’s Rainbow got to do with anything?” Twilight asked in genuine confusion. “Rarity mentioned her too, but, she’s like the straightest pony I know, and Rarity says she isn’t a homophobe. Is it her parents? One of her best friends?”
Applejack just stared. She opened her mouth to speak but Rarity cut her off with a harsh whisper: “I think it’s best she figures it out for herself darling.”
The farmer scrunched her face in thought, then nodded silently, leaving Twilight more bewildered than ever.
“I’m going to get some coffee, either of you two need anything?” Twilight groused slightly, her previous relief tempered by the unanswered question lurking in her periphery.
“I’m a scientist, darn it! I can work this out with experimentation... later.” She muttered darkly as she left the carriage.
Rarity and Applejack waited until she was safely in the next carriage over before Applejack was forced to ask the inevitable question, not quite capable of believing her own ears.
“Did- Did Twilight just hint that she was going to work out what Rainbow Dash had to do with liking girls... By experimenting with her?”
“Yes. Yes, I do believe she did.” Rarity answered primly, with slight overtones of matter-of-fact and a fair smattering of smug to taste.
It took all of two seconds for the composure and decorum the two extremely-well-dressed ladies presented to be irrevocably shattered by rolling, completely unladylike and most certainly undignified laughter.
Not even Rarity could bring herself to care at that point.
Octavia took her position amongst the orchestra, as she always did, unpacked her newly-reclaimed double-bass, which was selected for the pieces tonight, tuned the instrument, as she always did, and felt absolutely none of the excitement performing usually instilled in her, which had worryingly never happened before.
‘You’re just being silly,’ she chastised herself. ‘You’ve been expecting to feel like that, so you’ve probably just talked yourself into it.’
‘Then again,’ she countered against herself, ‘I expect the sun to rise each morning, I expect to feel hungry before breakfast and I expect Vinyl to annoy me before I even leave the apartment. My expecting it doesn’t influence it, it’s merely common sense.’
Octavia sighed, waiting for the last remnants of the orchestra to take their positions and make their final adjustments, before final rehearsals would begin.
She silently thanked that the flask of whiskey concealed in her case hadn’t been noticed by the thug from earlier.
By no means did this make her an alcoholic: It’s a very common practice for a musician to be slightly inebriated to give their best performances. It stills the nerves and dulls the pains that are brought on by such constant, precise and repetitive movements.
Octavia was amongst one of two classes in the philharmonic; the ones that used alcohol before a performance and the ones who used cheap drugs instead.
The philharmonic seemed to compose mostly of pegasus in the brass and woodwind sections, due to their proclivity for air and breathing and what-not. Their wings were also rather useful for playing such instruments as oboes and flutes, in lieu of hands. The earth ponies were mostly on percussion, piano, composing or conducting, smaller roles that needed that special endurance or something that only an earth pony’s natural talent could provide.
The special endurance could sometimes, not surprisingly, encompass the ability for a pony to hold their liquor.
Finally there were the unicorns. Those ponies were in, well, frankly almost everything. They seemed to be the vast majority of the philharmonic, except in a few sections. Their magic gave them the obvious leg up, of course, but the more hushed, and socially unaccepted reason, was that unicorns simply had much more of a place in high society. The best schools were for unicorns, the wealthiest parents used magic. Of course, there were some ponies like Filthy Rich whose special talent was making money, or running numbers or just intelligence in general. Whilst these ponies were not uncommon they were hardly the majority, and they didn’t have much in the way of appendages adaptable for musical instruments.
Octavia was a very special case, not only one of the few earth ponies in the philharmonics illustrious history, she was also one of the youngest to reach first chair. Whilst it was more common for earth ponies to be prodigies than unicorns in her field it was highly uncommon for her to be the best of the best as a strings musician, something the magically-talented held a distinct monopoly on outside of country music.
Performing for a crowd of the countries elite, trying to live up to her title of best-of-the-best, was hard enough on its own. The constant fear of being judged by her peers, constantly jockeying for her position, all around her the whole time though, waiting for her to make the slightest slip-up to contest the recently-appointed ‘lifetime’ appointment?
“Curse these ponies,” she muttered as she took a measured swig from the silvery flask, “They drive me to drink.”
‘That accursed succubus is finally being distracted! Now’s my chance!’
Time Turner felt safe to raise his head and tentatively flee Rarity’s line of sight, silently blessing the purple unicorn that, whatever she had done, granted him the moment of respite needed to get to safety. He mentally amended to himself that he owed this stranger a debt, should he ever see her again.
By the time Rarity realized, when Twilight got back with her steaming cup of strong-smelling, obviously very-black coffee, all she could do was let out a disappointing clucking of her tongue.
“Darn, darn, thrice darned like socks.” She cursed more for her own benefit than anything else, “He was my type, too.”
Twilight and Applejack collectively raised an eyebrow, but Twilight was the first to ask.
“You have a type, Rarity?”
“Why yes, of course, Darling!” Rarity feigned indignation, clutching a foreleg to the approximate location of her heart, which Twilight noticed was a bit lower than Rarity indicated but couldn’t bring herself to mention without coming off as ‘really creepy’.
“What would that be? Breathin’ and a stallion?” Applejack grinned.
“You give me too little credit, dear!” Rarity grinned despite herself, “I’m far more discerning than that.”
“Oh?” Twilight asked as innocently as possible, ignoring the gnawing urge to correct Rarity on her knowledge of her own anatomy.
“They have to be gorgeous breathing and a stallion, of course. Preferably available, too, but that’s only a bonus if you’re not merely window-shopping.”
“You’ll have to settle down some time, Rares, I think.” Applejack chuckled.
“Strange. We try telling our sisters the exact same thing, don’t we, and they only ever seem to take it as encouragement.” Rarity took the opportunity to fix Twilight with a decidedly flirtatious look.
Twilight was far less than impressed, however. “Rarity, if you do that again, I’m telling Spike on you.”
Rarity pretended to pout for a few seconds, but Applejack and Twilight’s giggling was too infectious.
They were still laughing, having avoided any major squabbles, when the train finally pulled into Canterlot station. Twilight beamed with pride for her friends and just a bit because of the knowledge that Spike now owed her ten bits.
Octavia played through the rehearsal as she always did. Perfectly.
Whilst her fellow musicians made a few minor slip ups during the rehearsal, hitting a note just a little too sharp or flat, just a little out of synch on a tempo change, Octavia refused to give them the ammunition against her.
She got no satisfaction out of being better, no feeling of schadenfreude at their slip ups. She simply felt the keen absence of disappointment, which was more than good enough for her.
‘No matter what happens tonight. No matter what happens when those curtains open. I will be ready. Let nopony be able to say I’m slipping.’
‘Come what may I shall be ready to give it everything my all.’
“This is it.” Twilight breathed.
The impressive building loomed before them in the dying sunset. The last glints of Celestia’s rays glinted off the polished marble and glass structure in breathtaking crystalline rainbows, sparkling and eddying in the ripples of the last pulses of light. Rarity’s eyes trailed over the elegant curves of stone and steel, the beautiful mastery of the muted natural pallet, the positioning near the heart of the greatest city in Equestria...
“It’s so beautiful isn’t it?” Rarity let out a barely-concealed squeal, her constant desire at expressing her passions being constantly at odds with her desperate desire for a front of dignity clashing once more. “The glass, the stone, the glass, the marble, the culture!”
“Rarity, you said glass twice.” Applejack idly muttered, letting out a low whistle of admiration herself as she did so.
“So shiny.”
“Rarity, you’re drooling a little.” Twilight murmured, eyes darting across the architecture.
The vaulted arches and domed ceiling which always drew your eyes up and across the sweeping ceiling structures, perfectly calibrated for acoustics, the use of the ever-present golden-ratio in every aspect of the lines and angles, the sheer pony power needed to move and manufacture and cut and refine that much material was overwhelming her.
Whilst Rarity was fixated on the aesthetic and cultural significance, and Twilight was marvelling the sheer magnificence of ponykind that it could create something so magnificent, Applejack was marvelling something else entirely.
“This place is going to be packed awful tight.” She muttered.
“Not really,” Twilight whispered back in reverie as they approached the behemoth before them, “It supposedly seats up to four thousand ponies comfortably.”
“Four- you mean hundred, don’tcha, Twilight?”
“No, I really mean four thousand.” Twilight muttered back. “Because of the way the building is shaped you can have at least three stories of ponies.”
“Four thousand ponies, average ticket price of eighty bits, two concerts a week...” She trailed off.
“One hundred and ten musicians in the orchestra, hired through blind audition, the first orchestra in the world to do so.” Twilight shot out facts as she distractedly measured up the masonry and the building’s potential structural integrity.
“One hundred and ten, huh? So, what, is that, six hundred bits a week each?” Applejack calculated, “three hundred per performance?”
“Triple that, I think.”
“Trip- Whoah.” Applejack flinched momentarily, “Okay, so, assuming the whole building is tax scuba-dived-”
“I think you mean ‘subsidized’, dear,” Rarity corrected primly as they took a place in the line snaking around from the entrance, “When tax bits pay for government luxuries it is a subsidy.”
“Right, that,” Applejack scowled, “So, they’re making about two by eighty by fifty bits a year, take one hundred and ten by about, whoah Nelly, two thousand by fifty.”
“You forgot to factor in the fact that there’s three thousand ponies per show minimum, there, Applejack.” Twilight amended.
“What’s that come out to?”
Twilight paused and stuck her tongue out thoughtfully, eyes darting back and forth at unseen shadows, as if she were desperately trying to focus on an irate bird swooping at her.
“That’s two million, four hundred thousand bits subtract one million one hundred thousand in wages.”
“That’s still almost one and a half million bits!” Applejack squeaked, comparing the paltry sum the entire farm brought in by comparison. “Why the heck does the government put money intoit?!”
“Culture is priceless in society, Applejack, not that you’d know about that.” Rarity sneered slightly before catching herself. “Sorry, that was uncouth of me, I don’t know what came over me, I am so very, very-”
“Save it, Rarity,” Applejack grumbled, “‘not really your fault anyhow. It’s all these other bug-up-their-butts ponies around here. They’re like a hive mind, suckin’ you in, tryin’ to make you one of them. It was like that in Manehattan, too.”
“You know I’m not like that, though, surely Applejack? We may have our differences and disagreements, but surely you know I’d never outright look down on you like that?”
“Not yet, anyhow, Rare’s.” Applejack sighed bitterly. “Sometimes it just gets to the best of ponies, though.”
“Twilight, you grew up in Canterlot, you don’t honestly believe-”
“First of all, Applejack, if the orchestra does turn a profit it’s turned over to the treasury, the subsidies just help to ensure that more ponies can afford to even see the orchestra, not just the really-well-off. Patrons would otherwise have to pay nearly double, I think, last time I checked. Celestia has always been adamant that ponies should never be excluded from beauty and wonder because of where they were born.
Secondly, Rarity... I did grow up in Canterlot. Applejack is far more right than I care to admit to. You think I went almost my entire life to date without making friends solely because I was a little awkward?”
“To be fair, dear, it is more than a ‘little’, particularly before we met.” Rarity pointed out gently.
“Did you know that, as the Princess’s protege’, I am more revered than most duchess?” Twilight growled. “Oh, how ponies would take advantage of that. My parents are already pretty revered themselves, it took my brother years of outstanding service in the guard to stop the rumours he was made captain just because of who our parents were.”
“Your brother is one of the most powerful unicorns in all of Equestria, though!” Applejack exclaimed, “You’re telling me ponies thought he just, what, bought the position?” She mulled it over for a second. “Actually, I’m not all that surprised.”
“Are you two honestly saying-”
“Rarity, I know this is hard for you to hear,” Twilight sighed, “But think about your own experience here. We both know how talented you are, everypony who’s ogled Applejack and I since we got here is proof enough of that.” Applejack blushed slightly, shooting accusing glances at every stallion she saw.
“When you first got here a couple asked you about your hat. They loved it until- What changed their mind?”
“I told them I was from Ponyville...” She murmured.
“What one thing saved your reputation?”
“I... told them I was staying in the castle as a guest of the princess...” Rarity muttered, putting the pieces together.
“How much of your success here can you honestly, definitively put down to your own accomplishments?”
“All of it!” Rarity exclaimed desperately, “I’m a self-made pony!”
“That wonderful yellow dress of mine” Twilight smiled softly, “How many do you think you would have sold if Fancy Pants hadn’t stepped in when he had?”
“I- Surely- But-” Rarity stammered. Applejack just winced at Rarity in sympathy.
“Ponies around here are so used to judging you on who you know, they stop caring about who you are.” Rarity was almost openly crying now, a soft wetness streaking her eyeliner around the edges, the faintest of snifflings heard even through the bustling of the crowd. “They don’t care about you, they care about how they can use you.” Twilight was building volume now, her soft consolation taking on the bitter pangs of hurt herself, “They get close to you, they build your trust, they smile and they laugh and they stab you in the back and rip out your still beating heart.”
The small crowd around them stopped in silence for a brief moment, staring at the panting unicorn with beaded tears and a scowl splattered across her face.
“That’s why I only ever stayed with Spike in Canterlot, Rarity.” Twilight growled. “Ponies knew who I was and they weren’t afraid to use me for it. The stallion that took my virginity-” She took a moment to glance up and glare at either of them, as if daring them to act surprised. When they both nodded slightly, enraptured in the sudden mood shift, Twilight continued, “He was trying to get a dowry out of Celestia. It turns out he didn’t feel for me at all. I would never have known if Celestia hadn’t taken the opportunity to teach me listening spells that week, and he happened to be in range when we practiced, and I overheard him laughing to his friends about how rich I was going to make him.” Tears were streaming down Rarity’s face and Twilight now, but where Applejack and Rarity were horrified and enthralled, Twilight was just plain bitter from opening up a long-ago scarred wound. “I think Celestia knew. The timing of the lesson was perfect, and in retrospect, I had wondered why she had brought in the jasmine tea for the lesson, we only ever had that when we had our private discussions... She knew, but she didn’t have the heart to tell me.”
“How much of a hypocrite would I be if I stopped asking you to be so damned right all the time Applejack?” She smirked at her own dark humour. “Go ahead, ask, I know you just figured it out.”
“We’re waiting in line, but we have VIP tickets, don’t we Twilight?” She whispered, drawing Twilight into a gentle hug.
Rarity still swaying gently on her hooves and furiously questioning everything that had ever happened to her in Canterlot. The new perspective changed her views about everything, all those little gestures, the smiles, the way ponies were swayed so easily no matter her opinions... It was like a psychopathic surgeon had sucked out her all her blood and replaced it with crystalline ice.
Twilight nodded at Rarity for Applejack’s sake, and let out in barely a whisper; “I didn’t want to do this for her sake, but it’s far too late now.”
“No.” Rarity stomped a hoof. “No, as true as what you say may be, surely my own talent must have contributed somewhere, somehow? They must have appreciated me for at least some of it?”
Twilight sighed bitterly and pulled out the diamond-studded tickets.
“Compose yourself, Rarity, I’ll give us both a moment. We’re about to become very popular.”
After a few minutes to adjust the streaks in her makeup and straighten their manes Rarity weakly nodded she was ready, not quite able to express words.
Twilight held the tickets in front of the trio and stepped out of the line. As they passed ponies muttered and whispered, pointing at them. It was notoriously difficult to get these tickets, more than a matter of mere bits, and everypony knew it.
Where seconds prior they were paid no mind in the line, even with the unicorn’s furious outburst, for all intents and purposes invisible, simply walking past with the tickets in view caused Rarity and Twilight to be swamped by suitors and lackies, begging to know the designer of their dresses, clucking about their perfume, finally recognizing Twilight’s cutie mark.
They left Applejack well enough alone after she ‘accidentally’ kicked a few stallions in the shin and stepped on a few hooves. For the element of honesty she had a remarkable poker face when she was mad.
“You see that, Rarity?” Twilight’s eyes flashed dangerously, “We’re not important until a little piece of paper says we are. I recognized that pony from the garden party you were so ecstatic to be invited to...”
“But he didn’t recognize me until I was worth remembering...”
Their excitement for the theater was dulled monumentally, the previous jovial air the three had projected replaced by an atmosphere that was almost morbid.
The orchestra was warming up. They were playing ‘For Auld Lang Syne’, a beautiful traditional piece associated with the coming of the New Year and celebration. Only Twilight seemed to recognize that, before that, it was traditionally played as a funeral dirge.
It seemed fitting.
Octavia closed her eyes.
Even with her eyes closed she could see perfectly, in her minds eye, everything around her.
The orchestra fell deathly silent.
The hushed whispers and expectant murmurs of the anticipating audience was snuffed out, voice by voice
The rattling of the rungs of the curtains crackled their own metal sonata as they slid across the old iron track that held the thick, soundproofing material. By the time the hiss had become a whisper there was nothing but silence remaining in the entire amphitheatre of thousands, save for the occasional cough from the settling air.
The music began, Octavia began to play.
Her dark, blind world exploded in technicolour as the ripples and warbles of one hundred and ten professional musicians played together in perfect unerring harmony. The sound carried flawlessly from their musical pit at the throbbing heart of the theatre, ripping through Octavia’s apathy like a drunk driver through a cyclist’s marathon, leaving nothing but an overwhelming feeling of disbelief that what had come before were there at all.
Then the bodies fell back to earth, to stretch a metaphor like one of an aforementioned cyclist’s dislocated joints.
Octavia’s ennui settled back, merely excited and scattered briefly from that brief moment, the excitement, the thrill of performing again. Lost in her own world it could have been long minutes or mere seconds, she couldn’t tell, her hoof was just playing the notes that had become so habitual to her.
That was part of the problem, wasn’t it? That it was so stale, so repetitive.
There was no goal to strive for anymore. She was working with Vinyl on a series of her singles, she was first chair strings, there simply wasn’t anywhere to go from here.
Where do you go once you've already gotten there?
Octavia couldn’t help but empathize with the first pony to climb the tallest mountain. She bet that, after the excitement and adrenaline wore off, his next words must surely have been “Well, now what?”
‘That was the real question, wasn’t it?’ Octavia sighed as her bow string danced across its counterpart strings on the double bass, eeking out beautiful, yet achingly too familiar, wondrous warbles and haunting melodies.
Octavia opened her eyes and sighed bitterly, her personal rapture lost from her grasp.
Her eyes scanned the ocean of ponies around her, mostly chatting and gossiping amongst themselves. She practically growled to herself. To these ponies the orchestra wasn’t a thing to be seen, to them it was more important to be seen.
‘How can I go out in a blaze of glory if nopony is around to notice?!’
She was caught, not once faltering in her unwavering perfection, staring bitterly around the unappreciative audience when a pricking of purple caught her eye. She turned her head slightly, shifting her gaze to the VIP box that, surely, the most uptight of charlatans must be attempting to distract her from-
‘Oh.’
She can finally see the flickering for what it truly is.
Spellforms are glistening in the air in front of the VIP box, as the most beautiful unicorn is lost in her own personal rapture, waving her head back and forth in perfect time with the allegro they were currently playing, notes and chords merging and mingling in a visual display in front of her, a perfect visual representation of the beautiful music being played to her.
‘She’s weaving light into the music as she hears it-’ she realizes, ‘She’s taken the music as she hears it, from all the sections of the orchestra at the same time, and perfectly recreating it.’
She glanced back and saw the indignant looks some of the more offendable ponies were shooting at the box, glaring at the wonderful pony that was so involved in the music they were too busy gossiping to appreciate.
She turned back to the mare, and it most definitely was one heck of a mare, in the Vip box. Her spellform wavered, a section of it dropping and falling from the stream of light in front of the unicorn.
The unicorn mare opens her eyes and meets Octavia’s gaze directly, a furious blush on her cheeks that was visible even in the majestic darkness of the theatre hall.
They stare into each other’s eyes, Octavia feeling a slight blush raise herself. Neither of them looking away, caught in some sort of spell that the unicorn had no intention of casting, for an eternity.
It took a full twenty seconds for Octavia to realize what had caused the eddies of light she had been casting to falter, what had caused her to meet Octavia’s bewildered and enraptured gaze in the first place.
For those twenty seconds Octavia had been so wonderfully captivated by the beautiful unicorn’s display she had forgotten about her own.
For those infinitely long twenty seconds, Octavia’s bow string hovered still and silently over the double bass as she had simply forgotten to play mid-piece.