//------------------------------// // 5th Movement // Story: Sketchy Salad Symphony // by Sketchy Sounds //------------------------------// Octavia found herself rudely awoken by the shrill ringing of her alarm clock bell. She groaned quietly to herself, burying her head under a pillow. Mornings were not something she enjoyed very much, especially when she had to get out of bed for them. After maybe fifteen seconds’ worth of futile resistance against the alarm’s shrill tone, she reluctantly pulled herself out of bed, gently tapping the top of the clock to silence it. “I am awake...” she muttered, as though the object could somehow hear and understand her chiding. She made her way through to the wash room, pausing to take in her reflection. “Goodness, look at you.” she said to it, smiling slightly. “You are a mess!” Several minutes’ worth of careful attention soon saw her looking far closer to her usual immaculate and prim state. “Hmm. Better.” she mused to herself, donning her trademark collar and bow tie. A smile spread across her face as she recalled the arrangements made the previous evening. Perhaps you still have something of a social life after all. she mused to herself as she strode out of the wash room and saw to filling her empty stomach. In another part of town, Sketchy was dragging himself out of bed, yawning. It was earlier than he would like, but he was determined to get up. Today was a once-in-a-lifetime chance, and one he wasn’t going to pass up. Putting his face under some cold running water soon helped him shake off the last of the sleepiness, and he focused his mind on everything he’d need to do. “Alright... sort mane, eat breakfast, grab instrument...” he said to himself, then added in a mutter “...stop talking to myself.” His mind continued to race with excitement though, as he hastily saw to filling his stomach and tidying his appearance a little. Ordinarily he wouldn’t give it much thought, but... You can’t go looking a mess. She wouldn’t, so nor can you. You want her to like you, right? he thought to himself. It was hardly a secret, after all, that he had an eye for the cellist. Well, hardly a secret to him or his closest friends, Salad especially. With that said, it would doubtless take little time for the average pony to work it out, were they to get a look in his apartment - or rather, the upstairs balcony that counted for a bedroom area. The walls there had assorted posters and drawings pinned up, the larger percentage of which were either of Octavia herself, or related to her in some way. It was safe to say that he was a fan, definitely. Not the wildly obsessed sort, though. he thought to himself. Or at least, I certainly hope that’s not how I come off to her... although I managed to avoid sticking my hooves in my gob so far. A myriad of similar thoughts and worries whirled in his head as he descended the stairs of his apartment building, carrying a large instrument case over his back. Canterlot’s premier strings player arrived in the park in excellent time. Naturally, nothing less would have been expected of her. She found her way to the small band-stand she had mentioned the previous night and carefully set down the small instrument case she was carrying. For a change, today she was not fielding her signature cello. The reason for this was two-fold: for one, said instrument was currently residing at the Canterlot Amphitheatre where she and her colleagues were practicing for the up-coming grand concert to celebrate the equinox. For another, however, she also simply felt like playing something other than the cumbersome instrument for the sake of variety; hence today what she carried was a viola. She fiddled carefully with the customised horseshoe attached to her right front hoof. As she spent so much of her time playing bowed instruments, she had eventually tired of having to strap a clumsy bow-holder to her leg each and every time she wished to indulge in her love of music - hence, her right hoof’s shoe was designed in such a way that she could easily clip a bow to it in a matter of seconds, rather than having to fumble around for several minutes. It wasn’t long before she was prepared to play. Seeing no sign yet of her companion from the previous night’s meal, she shrugged to herself and began to play a tune she knew well. It was one that had been written long before she was born, by one of Equestria’s better-known classical composers. It was a tune which sang in praise of the beauty of summer, extolling the warmth and sunshine it brought, delighting in the bright colours of nature and the soft scents of flowers in bloom. It made for a fitting addition to the morning’s beauty; a melody which slowly unfolded as the clouds drifted slowly by. Meanwhile, Sketchy found himself hurrying to the park his fellow musician had told him of the other day. Argh, I’m going to be late! he scolded himself. The five more minutes he’d allowed himself in bed were really costing him now. Nevertheless, he hurried on, silently hoping that he would not be so tardy as to be scolded by Octavia - or worse, find her gone. He soon arrived in the park, slowing to a steady trot as he went in search of the band-stand. In truth, he hadn’t been aware of the fact the park contained one, as he’d never explored it much during his time spent in the city formerly. Nevertheless, as he continued on, it became easy to figure out the location of the structure - the tell-tale sound of a viola’s strings being subjected to the passions of a dedicated musician wafted through the air from near-by, downhill from where he was. He hurriedly trotted in the direction of the sound’s source, spying the marble structure soon thereafter. Octavia’s eyes were closed as she immersed herself in the sound of her instrument. In her head, the backing of a complete orchestra played along with her, in perfect time. She dipped and swayed in time with the imaginary ensemble, the rolling crescendos of her music ringing in her mind’s ear. She therefore did not notice the arrival of Sketchy until she opened her eyes once more. She jumped slightly, having not expected his presence. She hastily cleared her throat, setting down her instrument. “And, how long have you been stood there?” she questioned, a small smile on her face. “Not long.” he replied truthfully, still breathing a little more heavily than usual. “I was a little late getting away from my apartment, so I ran most of the way here. Sorry for being late.” he added, hanging his head slightly. Octavia put a hoof to her mouth, covering her laughter. “My dear,” she replied, suppressing her laughter, “you are not late. I believe I said ‘around half past ten’. It is still around that time.” “...oh!” he replied, a relieved tone in his voice, his expression brightening. “Sorry, I just thought...” “Hmm? That I would be strict and unforgiving for your tardiness?” she teased coyly. “Perish the thought. I gave you no specific deadline.” “OK then.” Sketchy grinned, carefully sliding the large instrument case off his back. “What you were playing before was very nice, by the way.” he added as he tended to opening the case. “Thank you dear.” Octavia replied, her gaze falling on the instrument case and what lay within. She smiled to herself as she looked upon it. “You play strings as well, I see.” Sketchy nodded, carefully pulling the cello from its case. It was made of a deep red hued wood, its ebony fingerboard a stark contrast against the bold colour of the instrument’s body. He pulled out a bow-holder from a small recess in the case, and began struggling to get it on his leg. Octavia watched the spectacle for all of a few seconds before shaking her head and sighing, an amused smile on her face as she recalled her own frustrations with the silly things in her younger days. “Here, allow me.” she stated, stepping over to the larger pony. Before he could raise an objection, she had deftly caught hold of the leg strap and fastened it round his foreleg snugly. He blinked a few times at that. “How the...” he began. “Years of practice, Sketchy. Years of practice.” “Heh. Of course.” he nodded, grasping the bow and affixing it in place. “Well then... I guess I’ll get warmed up.” he continued, picking up the cello carefully. He sat back on his haunches and straightened his back - unlike the shorter mare, he didn’t need to stand fully upright on his hind legs to have his limbs positioned correctly for playing. It made for a slightly peculiar sight, granted, but it was comfortable and it worked, and that was what mattered as far as he was concerned. He slid the bow softly over the strings, initially getting a few discordant notes from it before he properly found the notes he was after. “Sorry about that.” he apologised to the musical pony watching him, having noticed her trying not to wince once or twice. “Alright, let me go ahead and play this...” he muttered, focusing his mind on a piece he’d learned some time ago. The bow slid smoothly over the strings now, and as he deftly moved his hooves, the instrument sang a much sweeter song than it had previously. Admittedly, the song still started unsteadily - though that was simply a matter of the musician in question being somewhat nervous. Once he got into the swing of the song, though, Sketchy’s eyes instinctively closed, allowing him to focus on the music solely with his ears. He was a little surprised, therefore, but nevertheless delighted to note within a few measures the accompanying voice of a viola harmonising with the deeper tones of his own instrument. He opened an eye and glanced over at Octavia, who had picked up her own instrument and joined in the song. She glanced back at him with a smile, continuing to play along with the melody. A large grin spread over his features in reply to that, and he closed his eyes once more, continuing the song. “A most delightful performance, dear.” Octavia commented some minutes later, their duet having now finished. “You are most talented. How long have you been playing for?” “Uhm, do you mean how long have I been playing music in general, or how long have I been playing this particular instrument?” he replied. Octavia mused on this question for a few moments. “Both, I suppose.” “Well... I’ve been playing music since I was able to bang my hooves against pots and pans.” Sketchy stated with a grin, eliciting a similar smile from Octavia. “As for the cello? At least four years.” Octavia raised an eyebrow slightly at that. “Indeed? I had thought it would perhaps have been longer. You must be very dedicated.” she said approvingly. “I suppose you could say that. I just, well, I really love music. Creating it, playing it, listening to it, it’s something I delight in.” “So I see. Or hear, as the case may be.” she smiled. “It is nice to have the company of another musician - that is to say, to have the company of one for simply playing, and not having to rehearse for something.” “Well, don’t you hang out with the other guys in your quartet?” Sketchy asked. “Probably not as often as you may think.” Octavia replied. “We are, after all, all skilled musicians in our own right. Each of us have our own works, separate from the quartet, that we indulge in. I would say that our relationship is somewhat more professional than personal - though nor would I say it is entirely one or the other; it is impossible, after all, to work so closely with other musicians and not form some attachment to them.” “I think I see what you’re saying.” Sketchy nodded. “You work together but you don’t really hang out as such, and even if any of you wanted to, it wouldn’t really be possible as you’re all busy with your careers, right?” Octavia nodded in reply to that, a small sigh escaping her lips. “Yes, that would be correct.” she replied. Sketchy detected a definite hint of melancholy in her voice, along with a feeling of tiredness. “Understand, it is not wholly by choice that we all are, shall we say, a little anti-social.” she went on. “It is simply a matter of commitment. To retain our cohesion means making sacrifices elsewhere.” “...such as in social circles?” “Precisely.” she replied, fixing her gaze on him. “You know... there are times that I envy those less well known than I. I cannot remember many times in my life that I was not under pressure to excel myself in ways that meant forfeiting other activities, and now that I am in high demand for my prowess, I find myself with less time for... well, myself.” “I can see how that came about easily enough.” Sketchy replied, nodding slowly. “I am not surprised. Still, with that said, I would not trade my position for the world.” she smiled. “I am where I want to be, doing what I want to do, and earning a living from doing it. For an artist, that is perhaps the best place to be.” Sketchy smiled. “Thanks, Octavia.” She met his thanks with a blink and a tilt of her head. “You are welcome, although I must ask what you are thanking me for, dear.” “For reminding me of the obvious. I... I’ll be honest, I have been slightly envious of you also. You’re incredibly talented, and you’re known for it as well. Me, I know I’ve got some skills, but I’ve not gotten so far with them. I see ponies like you who are doing such amazing things with their talents, and I wonder why I’m not doing similar.” Octavia nodded. “I do not see how one would be thankful for being reminded of that, though.” “Well, it isn’t that part that I’m thankful to be reminded of - it’s the other side of the coin. It’s too easy to look at it through rose-tinted lenses: I do envy where you are with your talent, being known all over the world... but at the same time, I’d hate to have to make the same sort of sacrifices.” Octavia gave him a slightly tired look, and for a moment he glimpsed a deeper expression in her eyes, something that spoke of a myriad of feelings he couldn’t place all at once. “There are times,” she began, “on occasion, that I find myself looking back over my life, and wondering how things may have been had I taken a different route.” She smiled, then, and there was nothing more to be seen of the distant look she’d had. “With that said, I think I am in some ways starting to make up for lost time.” “How do you mean?” he questioned. “It is simple. There have been very few occasions, through my life, where I have found myself in a suitable position to socialise - or where there have been others around for me to do so with.” “...so, what you’re saying is...” he began hesitantly. “I am saying that I enjoy your company, and I should like to continue to take time to familiarise myself with you.” Octavia replied with a small laugh. Sketchy grinned at that in his usual fashion. “Or in less fancy terms, you’d like to hang out some more?” “Hmm, yes. That is a good way of putting it.” “Well, that’s cool with me!” Sketchy stated happily, picking up his instrument once more. “Got time to play some more?” he added with a warm smile. “Yes. Yes, I believe I do.” his fellow musician replied, mimicking his expression. After what seemed like perhaps only an hour or so spent playing together, the prim black-maned musician took a glance up at the sun. She frowned slightly, looking over to her larger companion. “I shall have to be on my way, Sketchy.” she noted, a slightly disappointed tone in her voice. “Ah? Already?” he replied, setting his cello down. “Yes. The day is wearing on, and I am needed for a rehearsal at the amphitheatre tonight. I dare not be late, lest I set a poor example for those around me.” “Right, got it.” Sketchy replied, nodding. He began putting the cello back in its case, as Octavia saw to stowing away her own instrument. She had her task accomplished first, and waited on him as he finished his. “Alright.” he said, slinging the case onto his back. “I... guess I’ll have to let you be on your way.” “I suppose so...” she replied, glancing downward and shuffling her hooves a bit. She then looked back up again. “...may I ask you something?” “Sure.” he replied, giving her his full attention, his expression welcoming. “When will you next be free?” “To meet up like this, you mean?” She nodded. “It has been most relaxing to simply spend time like this, so...” “I’m pretty flexible, Tavy.” he said without thinking. She arched an eyebrow at the shortening of her name. “Have we moved on to nicknames already?” she said, an amused tone in her voice. “Er... well, does it bother you?” Sketchy asked, wincing slightly at his tongue out-pacing his mind. “Hm... no, I do not suppose that it does, actually.” she smiled. “It is less of a mouthful, after all, yes? Anyway... do you think you will be available... hmm, next Tuesday morning?” Sketchy smirked slightly at that. “If I wasn’t going to be before, I will now.” “Hmm. I see.” she nodded, her smile broadening. “Same time and place, then?” “I’ll look forward to it!” “As shall I.” she replied, her face a picture of happiness. “Until then, Sketchy.” “‘til then. Take care - and have fun tonight!” “Mm. I shall try.” she smiled, turning and making her way away from the band-stand. Sketchy watched her walk away, smiling to himself. Only once she was out of sight did he allow himself a brief moment to succumb to childish glee, letting out a brief squeal of delight of the kind a certain cyan-coated pegasus would never admit to making. He then started on his own way home. There were things to be done and plans to be made... and at least one friend he had to go and talk to. “So... y’all’re meetin’ up again soon, huh?” Salad asked of her earth pony friend. It was now later in the evening, and as he’d expected would happen, Sketchy had been called on by his unicorn friend not long after she’d finished work at her shop. “Yep! Tuesday next week. There aren’t words to properly express how excited I am, I kid you not.” he grinned giddily. “Ah can see that!” Salad chuckled, amused by her friend’s child-like glee. “Ah honestly thought you were gonna start bouncin’ about like a ball when Ah asked you how things went.” Sketchy simply chuckled heartily at that, nodding. When she’d asked the question of how his meeting with Octavia had gone, he’d gushed non-stop for a good few minutes about how awesome it had been spending time with this one pony he really admired, being able to jam with her and just generally chatting about life and so on. “And you know? It was way less nerve-wracking than I thought it’d be. She’s different to how I imagined her. In a good way, I mean - she’s not anywhere near as aloof as everypony seems to think.” “Well a’ course she ain’t, hon. Ah coulda told yuh that.” Salad giggled, but let him keep speaking. “I know, I know. But yeah, she’s really cool. Like, she didn’t look down on me even once despite the massive differences between us. It was unreal, Sally. Un. Real. And she wants to meet up again and spend some more time chilling. With me. I keep checking to see if I’m dreaming or not, but this really is happening.” Salad laughed again at her friend’s continued gushing on. “Well, why wouldn’t she wanna, sugar-cube? Yer a nice guy to be around. Yuh ain’t pushy or full of yourself or anythin’ like that. Ah done told yuh before, us girls like nice guys. Even the classy ladies like her--heck, especially the classy ones like her.” she affirmed with a grin. “Whoa, whoa there Sally. Don’t go giving me too many crazy ideas now.” he replied half-seriously. “Just being on friendly terms with her is enough for me for the time being. I don’t wanna get ahead of myself and stick my hoof in my mouth.” “Mighty sensible of yuh, hon.” Salad agreed. “But don’t go underratin’ yourself neither, yuh hear? There ain’t enough fellas like you around. Yuh didn’t think you’d ever meet her to start with, and now it’s gone and happened, so who knows?” she smiled, her tone then softening somewhat. “Honestly though hon, Ah’m real pleased for yuh. It sounds like yer really hittin’ it off. Keep me posted on how things go, won’tcha?” she beamed. “You can count on it!” Sketchy replied excitedly, then he strode over to his unicorn friend and pulled her to him, hugging her tightly. “And Sally? Thanks a million for making this happen, from the bottom of my heart.” he said softly. “This honestly is like a dream come true.” “Aww, Sketchy yuh big lug.” she replied, hugging him back. “It ain’t no bother. Ah just wanted tuh see you happy.” “Well, you sure managed it.” he grinned, letting go and looking down into her eyes. “You’re the best little sister I never had.” She smiled back at him fondly. “Same tuh you, Sketchy. Yer the big brother Ah always wanted. You always will be.” There was a spring in Salad’s step as she headed back toward home later that evening. She’d been slightly worried the previous day that perhaps her friend would be too nervous around the famed musician he admired to even speak when put together with her on his own, but she was relieved to find her fears were unfounded. She was happier still to learn that they had gotten along well enough for Octavia to want to meet with him once more. Somehow, she thought to herself, Ah reckon this might be the start of somethin’ big.