“Now, you be a good girl, Octavia. Listen to your teachers, make sure you do your homework, and we’ll be back to pick you up at the end of term. And don’t forget to keep practicing your cello,” said Octaiva’s mother, as the two stood at the gates to the prestigious Canterlot Boarding School.
“Yes, mother,” replied Octavia, and gave her mother a final hug, and then walked into the school proper. Once past the rather intimidating front gates, the school was much like many of the other buildings around Canterlot-white stone construction, and polished wood accents. Octavia moved over to the front desk, and confirmed both her registration, and obtained her room number. Octavia sincerely hoped that her preference for a single room had been approved. She wasn’t strictly anti-social, but Octavia did not see the value in companionship when she could be practicing or studying. She wanted to be the lead cellist in the Canterlot Philharmonic one day, and needed every ounce of practice time she could get so that she could be an appropriate level. Having a single room would ensure that distractions were at a minimum, allowing her to truly focus.
However, the moment that Octavia pushed open the door to room number 18, her hopes were dashed, as another pony’s bag was sitting on the bed on the right side of the room. Groaning to herself, Octavia pulled her bag and cello case over to the opposite side. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she found that she still had a few hours before the official welcoming ceremony, and decided to make the most of it. And since her roommate was nowhere in sight, she unpacked her cello, and set herself up for practice.
She was just beginning the Prelude of the Suite for Solo Cello in G major an hour later when the door slammed open, and a white unicorn, roughly the same age as herself, tumbled through the open door and landed in an uncomfortable heap on the floor.
“Ow,” said the unicorn, as she got back onto her hooves, “that worked out less awesome than I thought it would. Hey, who are you?”
“I am Octavia Melody. I was assigned to this room,” said Octavia, still standing with her cello at the ready.
“Cool! That means we can be friends. I’m Vinyl Scratch, pleased to meet’cha!” Vinyl Scratch held out a hoof, waiting expectantly for Octavia to shake it.
Octavia stared at Vinyl Scratch, taking in every aspect of the rambunctious unicorn. Her white coat, already stained and scuffed from dirt. The shock of two-toned blue hair that she apparently called a mane and tail, and the rather unusual bright red eyes. The wide grin, promising distractions and trouble.
“Let me make something clear, Vinyl Scratch. I am not here to make friends, and nor do I want them. I came here to study, and play the cello. If I want to get into the Canterlot Philharmonic, I cannot waste time on trivial pursuits. We may be roommates, but that does not mean we are friends.”
Vinyl retracted her hoof, and diverted her gaze away from Octavia. “Yeah, okay. I’ll...just be over here, then.” Vinyl shut the door, walked over to her side of the room, and settled down to clean her coat. Octavia resumed her practice without as much as a further glance at the unicorn.
[Time]
*******
Octavia was knocked down by the older stallion, but her concern was not her own safety. Rather, it lay with her falling cello. She dived for the precious instrument, hoping to catch it before it shattered on the hard stone. Her dive was in vain.
The cello gently hovered nearly a foot off the floor, surrounded by a gentle blue shimmer. Octavia glanced around, and found the source. Vinyl Scratch, the unicorn whom she had blown off at the beginning of term stood there, as casual as can be, her horn lit up, effortlessly suspending the instrument.
“Hey. You leave Octavia alone,” said Vinyl
“Or what are you gonna do, you silly scholarship? Lecture us to death?”
“No,” said Vinyl, gently setting the cello down on the floor, and positioning herself between Octavia and the bullies. “I’m gonna do this!” Vinyl’s horn flared painfully bright for a few seconds, and when the glow dimmed enough that Octavia was no longer seeing spots, she found that the bullies were now all tied to one of the columns in the hall, upside down.
Vinyl turned to face Octavia.
“You okay? Your cello okay?”
“Why?” asked Octavia. Vinyl didn’t need clarification as to what the aspiring cellist was asking about, and looked straight into Octavia’s pink eyes as she gave her answer.
“Because you needed it.”