“Hey Octy, ya need anything?”
“No, not yet.”
Vinyl was an odd mare to say the least. Night brought about her wild raves, while day brought a disturbing calm to her. She slept, ate, partied, and did it some more. I never really understood her most days.
We’d moved in together a couple months back. We’d had to look at an apartment for the two of us. Seems we weren’t in such different circumstances after all. Can’t help it when you have a gig gone horribly wrong. Musicians know this pain more than we’d like. Regardless, I’d had trouble paying the bills, so I had to find a better alternative, which came in the form of a pony. The way we met was rather unpleasant. Feeling down after the Gala fiasco where that pink monstrosity, who is most likely straight from Tartarus, got on stage and began to send things spiraling that night, particularly when she grabbed my bow and ran it across the strings without thinking of the damages. I had to get a new bow. After we left the Gala, I decided to try to drown out the event with music I couldn’t quite stand, the type that shook clubs and effectively made one forget their sorrows when paired with some wine. I must’ve had too much to drink because I’d been looking at the Dj when I blacked out, only to find the Dj and myself in my old apartment. Don’t ask me how she knew where I lived, because I couldn’t even get a straight answer.
“Looks like someone finally woke up!”
“What happened?” I asked, simply staring.
She didn’t skip on the details, mainly of myself trying to hit it off with her and several other ponies, with her being the last. She knew I was drunk and brought me back to make sure I didn’t get into trouble with anypony else that night. Things just went to small talk then; gratitude, profession, why I’d end up in there in the first place, things like that.
“Ya know, I really like you Octy.” she said, a grin on her face.
As soon as I heard the nickname I knew there was no point into shrugging her and everything else off.
“My name is not ‘Octy’. I told you before, I’m Octavia. See? More syllables, more pronunciation.”
“Yeah, sure. Anyway, I think I should be going. I have a gig tomorrow and I didn’t get much rest yet. We should hang out sometime, just drop me a beat when you’re up for it.”
She left right after that, leaving a phone number and curiosity in her wake. I decided to at least get to know her, just let things sort themselves out. At least, until the gig. You know what happened from there.
With the next gigs, we were able to scrounge up enough to get some new furniture. Out with the old, in with the new.
We still had a bit too much time on our hands. She was always listening to music or trying to catch up on any music she’d been unable to finish before. I was reading or writing a piece that focused on cello. I’d been working on it for a while, never getting it quite right.
“Octavia, are you alright? You seem rather upset.” Frederic toned in.
“Oh, yes. I’m fine. Just financial issues that I need to sort out. Nothing large, I assure you.”
Harpsy and Brass Beauty just closed their eyes and nodded slightly. Like I said, gigs gone wrong are not pretty. We ended rehearsal early.
We sat at the dining room table, just eating. Vinyl had already finished hers, and seemed to be eyeing the other half of my sandwich. To be honest, I wasn’t going to be able to finish it.
“Do you want the rest of this sandwich?”
Soon we had our fill and continued with other things. This time, she decided to study my work rather than hers, watching diligently as I wrote. Every stroke followed with accuracy by her red-violet eyes. They were rather beautiful I must admit.
After a half hour, the silence was broken.
“Whatcha doing?”
Oddly calm, probably just confused.
“Writing music. My own personal performance.”
“Looks like you’ve put a lot of work into it. I don’t s’pose I could hear it?”
“I thought you preferred that Dubstrep or whatever it is.”
“Well, yeah, I like it. And I don’t just do dubstep, I focus on trance and house mainly. I just wanna have a calmer night for once, ya know? A little less of those drunk stallions hitting on everypony they see, a little more beauty; some true beauty to appreciate.”
Who knew. She does seem rather serious about it…
“I, suppose I could show you. Just take a seat.”
After getting out my cello, I started playing, the piece mainly of the style and tone of some Coltic varieties.
Every time I looked back a my music, she was just staring, wide eyes, carefully watching the paired movements of my hooves (and likely other things when I wasn’t looking), as I played. I got to the point that I’d written to today and stopped.
“That was beautiful, Tavi.”
“It’s nothing really. Rather simply compared to some other pieces. Thank you.”
Flashback: Years ago. Transition to one of the few real houses in Canterlot. A filly can be seen through a window, trying to practice on an instrument a bit too large for her at the time. Cue simple somber melodies; a few screechy notes every now and then.
A high voice breaks the following silence.
“Mother, how was that?”
“Very good for your fifth day playing. Please, keep working on your music. It will get you a long way here.”
“What if I mess up?”
“If you keep at it, the music will begin to flow through you, like water through a river. You are a talented filly, Octavia. Always remember that.”
“Yes mother. Thank you.”
It was the most fulfilling time of my life. I still miss her…
“Tavi…? Octavia, you okay? Maybe I should try waving that stuff she puts on her bow under her nose…”
“Vinyl, I’m fine, and please don’t touch the rosin.”
“Are you sure you’re ok? You were just staring off for a while there.”
“Just a bit of nostalgia, that’s all.”
“If you say so…. Octavia, could I convince you to play some more if I get you some of that fancy grape juice you like?”