//------------------------------// // VIII - Allegrezza // Story: The Dancer // by Yip //------------------------------// Octavia stared forward. She had not blinked for over an hour—at least, that’s what it felt like to her. Her body was as cold and as rigid as stone, her eyes empty of feeling. She was laying down on her bed over the covers, belly up to the ceiling. The light in the room was off, no light came from the night sky outside her window, yet she still continued to stare at the black nothingness all around her. Her mind, just as it used to do, trailed to the dancer back in Ponyville, then to the new dancer. Could it be him? She had to find out. She started to hum to herself quietly with a familiar tune, one she had heard numerous times from Vinyl— 'Octy?' a voice called out in the darkness. The lights flickered on. 'Are you really going to sleep this early?' Vivace stood at the bedroom's door frame, frowning at Octavia. 'I thought you said you wanted to go out tonight.' Octavia sat up and sighed. 'Sorry for getting your hopes up, but I didn't mean what you thought I meant. I want to go to the library down the block.' 'The library?' Vivace narrowed her eyes. 'Tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t see the library being a very fun thing to do at night. Heck, it’s probably closed.’ Octavia furrowed her brow. ‘Octavia?’ ‘I’m fine, Vivace. A little confused, maybe, but otherwise I’m fine. Do you want the bed tonight? I’m fine with the couch.’ ‘Um, you can sleep in the bed tonight. What are you confused about?’ Octavia sighed. ‘Everything, I guess. I’m saying weird things and wanting to go to strange places at night.’ She yawned. ‘I think I’ll go to sleep a little early tonight. I’ll feel more refreshed and level-headed tomorrow.’ Vivace sighed. ‘Alright. Talk to me tomorrow, won’t you?’ ‘Yeah, sure.’ Vivace paused for a moment, then flicked off the light switch and left the room. ~|D|~ The sidewalk was dimly lit from the rising sun, most of the buildings around the city obscuring it from view. Octavia looked up at the apartment building from the side of the road. ‘Should have taken the couch if I wanted to sneak out. I guess I should be lucky Vivace is a light sleeper.’ Octavia walked down the road, mumbling to herself with no one in sight. She kept taking glances to the buildings around her, scaling her eyes up and down their surfaces, but her mind wasn’t thinking about anything other than Allegrezza and her lover at that moment. She walked up to the Manehattan Amphitheatre, peeked through the doors and tried to push them open. ‘Locked.’ Octavia looked to the right of the doors, and saw a plaque she had seen before but never bothered to check out. At the top were letters, in solid brass barely shining in the early day, that spelled out “MANEHATTAN AMPHITHEATRE”. Octavia shrugged, and read it out loud: ‘“Founded in the late 16th century, the Manehattan Amphitheatre, formerly known as the A~#) Me-+ria: Ha.:”—too faded to read—”has stood as one of the most enduring and recognizable buildings in all of Manehattan. Since Entwhistle founded the building so long ago, it has been the hub for entertainment in a work-heavy city that is rarely seen all over Equestria. Also of note is its role in helping the Lonely Hooves Club Band rise to fame in the early 21st century.”’ ‘In case you were wondering what the faded out words used to say, it was once called the "Alto Memorial Hall",' a rough, deep voice said from the now-opening double doors. 'Not really sure why those words in particular were faded out. Might be the current owner's doing since he changed the name in the first place, but then again he did leave the plaque here. Might have a grudge against the place, I dunno.’' Octavia turned her head to the figure speaking, a stout middle-aged earth stallion with a horn and a broom and dustpan floating at his side. 'Who are you?' Octavia asked. 'Just an old pony keeping the place from falling apart,' the stallion said, laying his cleaning tools down to the concrete. 'Name's Violetta, nightkeeper for the Amphitheatre and past musician. Despite the name, I'm not a lady.' 'I didn't assume as much,' Octavia said, smiling. 'Was Alto a musician here?' 'Nah. A while back, someone by that name was a popular dancer. Before my time, though—in a time where dancing was considered an individual form of entertainment.' Octavia's eyes widened. Violetta continued: 'I can understand why someone would change the name of the place, but it's pretty sad that for whatever reason the honorary name is faded beyond belief. Alto supposedly died from heartbreak because of mistreatment by past owners, and his legacy dies from the same thing.' Octavia gasped. 'That's all the confirmation I needed,' she said aside. 'Alto... what a fitting name.' 'What was that? Does that name mean something to you, Miss...' Octavia turned back to Violetta. 'Just "Octavia" is fine. The story hits close to home.' 'Ah, I see. I saw your name on the Ponyville Players poster inside, should have recognized you by sight.' Violetta smiled. 'Heard your name around a lot, too. Causing quite a stir with your cello. Was it like that in Ponyville?' 'Yes,' Octavia replied, rubbing the back of her head. 'It's all the instrument's work, though. I just move around a bit to vibrate the strings.' Violetta laughed. 'Humility is a strong virtue, Miss Octavia. I’m glad to see someone like you curious about the Amphitheatre.’ ‘Is there anything else you know about Alto?’ Violetta shook his head. ‘Not really. Pretty much told you everything I know—I don’t even know who broke his heart or how it happened. I haven’t seen any writing on the subject, but if you’re interested you could do some reading over by the library. Tip: don’t check the biographical section, I’m a fan of those books and I know Alto isn’t described in any of them.’ ‘I’ll keep that in mind, I guess,’ Octavia said. Violetta looked up at the sky and blinked. ‘Wife should be getting home from work soon. A lady finishing a night shift is not someone you want to keep waiting—I’d say see you soon, but I doubt you’ll be coming to a locked building this early again.’ 'It was a pleasure meeting you, Violetta.' Violetta nodded, and soon the dustpan and broom rose to his side as he walked away. Octavia thought for a moment. There was someone she needed to see. ~|D|~ 'Hello?’ A door opened, ever so slightly, revealing part of Staccato’s face through the crack. ‘Ah. Octavia. I had a feeling you’d come to my door after... recent events.’ The door swung open. ‘What?’ Octavia replied, blinking confusedly. ‘I really doubt you know what I wanted to talk about.’ Staccato closed his eyes and smiled. This wasn’t a smile of happiness, but a smile of defeat. ‘Come in,’ he ushered. ‘There’s a bit of stuff I should mention.’ Octavia bit her lip and entered. Staccato closed the door behind her, then walked over to the lone couch sitting one wall and sat down. There wasn’t much more in the single room that made up his apartment, save for a television in front of the couch on an old stand, an ajar door in the corner that revealed a small bathroom and a few kitchen appliances in another corner. ‘Do you sleep on the couch?’ Octavia questioned. Staccato nodded. ‘Have a seat if you like,’ Staccato said, gesturing to the open seat next to him. Octavia stood where she was. ‘As you’re no doubt aware, I’ve been feeling some nerves lately. Acting differently, perhaps due to the fear of everything that’s been going on.’ ‘I haven’t been feeling like myself for a while now, either,’ Octavia replied. ‘It’s nice knowing someone else is in the same boat as you, huh?’ Staccato shook his head. ‘Not when neither of us can get rid of what’s bothering us. Not something fixable like stage fright, but something built out of passion, need and curiosity.’ He lowered his eyes. ‘Just so we’re clear, these three things are not because I’m hitting on you or anything.’ ‘If you’re going to talk like that, I might as well just leave.’ Staccato chuckled. ‘I know, humour right out of left field. You know, I once loved someone. You’re probably well aware that that pony was Sonata, but I had more of a... well, a different kind of love with someone else. The same one you went crazy over in Ponyville, something that happened to me long ago and stayed with me ever since.’ Octavia drew in a deep breath. ‘The Dancer,’ she said, with heavy breaths, as she looked straight to Staccato. ‘I had a feeling we had her in common. I’m glad we’re on the same page.’ Staccato frowned. ‘She affected me in a different way than you, it seems. Where she’s given you passion for music and made you obsess over her, I obsessed over her when there was someone else I should have been obsessing over. Now I can’t stand Sonata. The effect was very different for the two of us.’ ‘I wouldn’t really call it an obsession...’ Octavia paused. ‘Hey,’ Staccato said, shrugging. ‘I didn’t mean to make it an extreme case or anything. It’s just that this entire situation is probably not going to work out well for you in the end. I’ve been nervous—and was so cautious when we were still in Ponyville—because you showed the same signs I did when I was younger. We’ve gone so far, with so much left to go, that I didn’t want any of us screwing this up.’ Octavia stared. ‘So this is a precautionary tale, then. I’ve been acting normal for a while now, haven’t I? There’s really no need to worry about me becoming a recluse or whatever like you were.’ Staccato looked to the floor, waited a moment, then looked back up at Octavia. ‘I’ll ignore that for the time being. I understand where you’re coming from, but you won’t be able to stop thinking about her for a long time, possibly never, always wondering how you can make her happy. The supernatural never shakes from you, and unless their spirits are happy, that will never change.’ ‘Happy...’ Staccato sighed. ‘Now I’m just deepening your curiosity, aren’t I.’ Octavia stepped forward. ‘No, you just reminded me of something. Where we play our music now? The amphitheatre? It used to be called something else.’ ‘Octavia, I don’t see how—’ ‘It used to be called the Alto Memorial Hall, Staccato. And I saw him at our last concert.’ Staccato’s mouth opened—he blinked, then stared shocked at Octavia. ‘If you know anything about her, Staccato, and I know you do, then you know who Alto is. We can bring them back together, somehow,’ Octavia exclaimed, widening her eyes. ‘If we just think about it, we can discover the missing piece that these two have to fill in to see each other again and be truly happy. We can bring them back together, Staccato.’ Staccato was silent. ‘Surely you must be thinking the same way I am,’ Octavia continued. ‘After all of this time, there’s a chance we can—’ ‘Get out.’ Staccato rose from his seat and pointed to the door with gritted teeth. ‘Not only have I just found out that your obsession has gone far too deep, but you’ve poisoned my mind with these thoughts after trying so hard to get rid of them.’ Octavia recoiled. ‘Staccato...?’ ‘Don’t pursue any of this nonsense anymore, Octavia.’ Staccato’s voice rose. ‘Do you understand? If you’ve seen this, this... figure, then it will never leave your thoughts unless you abandon both of the dancers entirely. You won’t be able to focus on your work, everything that we’ve worked towards, just because of these two that have been dead for too long for anyone to care anymore. There’s no way you can bring them back together. They’re incorporeal. Nothing can.’ ‘St—’ ‘The more you talk about it, the more it hurts to think about.’ Staccato lowered his voice. ‘Please, just go home and rest on this. The news of Alto is hurting me enough.’ Octavia felt her eyes water. Before the twinkle became tears, she turned, breathing heavily, towards the door. Staccato said nothing as she opened the door and left—her body wanted to look back and see Staccato’s face, but her mind told her no. How could he say something like that? Octavia could hear the door shut as she walked down the hallway out of Staccato’s apartment floor. Is he honestly trying to help me by acting like a delusional, insulting jerk? It’s probably more of his “leader” schtick. Octavia’s steps became more and more pronounced. Her frustration turned into a snarl. I’ll tell everyone about it. As friends, they’ll all understand. We can resolve this together. ~|D|~ ‘..and I totally think that since they’re spending so much time together, they’re getting flustered and revealing their true feelings. It’s so adorable! Sonata’s a little less flustered, but I think it’s true all the same.’ Vivace giggled. She stopped on the sidewalk, looked to her left and read the plaque in front of the Manehattan Amphitheatre. ‘I wonder why only a few of the words here are faded out. I would’ve just removed the plaque if I wanted it gone.’ Octavia sighed. ‘Octy?’ Vivace turned and tilted her head. ‘You’ve barely said a word on our way here.’ Octavia took in a deep breath. ‘I had a chat with Staccato about some... things, recently. Tell me, Vivace, do you trust me?’ Vivace raised a brow. ‘What kind of a question is that? First I start talking about romance, then uh, this?’ ‘Please Vivace.’ Vivace squirmed. ‘I’m only uncomfortable because it’s a weird topic. You already know I trust you more than anyone, Octy. What’s this all about?’ ‘Nothing, Viv. Let’s go rehearse.’ The two ponies entered the quiet amphitheatre, Vivace giving her friend worried looks all the while. The rest of the Ponyville Players stood, on the stage, preparing their instruments. ‘You’re worrying me, Octavia. Don’t go back to where you were before.’ ‘I worry myself all the time. You get used to it eventually.’ Staccato looked up from his piano. ‘I have things to do tonight, so I’d be glad if we got a couple of songs in quick before tomorrow’s concert. I don’t think we’ll have too much trouble, but I’d like to make sure we’re all in tune just the same.’ His eyes caught Octavia’s. ‘Good to see you, Octavia. I noticed your cello was already tuned, were you practicing yesterday?’ Octavia nodded. Staccato glared. ‘Very well. Less time preparing, then—let’s begin, shall we?’ Sonata cleared her throat as Octavia and Vivace took their instruments, lying in their cases right where they play. Waltz began a beat. Octavia thought about her play when Alto appeared. Would he return if she played the same? ‘Let’s do “Premonition” first,’ Sonata said. ‘One, and two, and three, and...!’ The band began to play their next piece, a calm tune with mild percussion and a dominant piano backing. Octavia, however, rose in pitch when the rest went down, strung together notes when she should have held them, and played louder when the rest went quiet. Staccato looked to Octavia as everyone played, angrily hitting the keys on his piano harder and harder. ‘I thought you’d readjust yourself,’ Staccato yelled, prompting everyone to stop playing. ‘But it turns out you’re intentionally playing our last concert piece instead of our next one. I don’t think I need to explain why that’s ridiculous, do I?’ ‘I dunno,’ Vivace said meekly, ‘it sounded kinda cool together—’ ‘Not important, Vivace.’ Octavia resumed playing. Maybe if she could get him to show up, she could... ‘Octavia!’ She continued to play. A faint image of something appeared center stage, but the wisp quickly faded, leaving Octavia with a sick feeling in her stomach. Her playing stopped. The rest of the Ponyville Players rushed to her side. ‘Octavia, are you okay?’ Sonata said, looking directly into her eyes. ‘Did you experience shock? Did you hit your head on something?’ Staccato took a step towards her. ‘Yes, Octavia, I’m sure we’re all dying to hear just what the problem is.’ Octavia laid her instrument down gently on the stage floor and began walking towards the steps down off of the platform. ‘I...’ she began, stuttering all the while. ‘I have something I need to check up on. I’ll be back soon, alright?’ Vivace rushed up to her, eyes narrows. ‘No, Octy. You’re gonna tell me what’s wrong.’ Octavia turned to her friends, all looking at her worriedly. Staccato closed his eyes and shook his head. ‘I don’t understand,’ Octavia said. ‘Why don’t you guys see what I see? The ponies, the dancer, the life... I-I think you guys would really like seeing them, if you tried hard enough.’ Vivace blinked. ‘What?’ ‘The two dancers! There was one in Ponyville, and one here—’ Octavia spoke quicker ‘—and they’ve been dead for a long time, but they’ve been appearing for me, and...’ The Ponyville Players stared at Octavia, more confused than surprised. ‘I’ve been seeing two ghosts, one in each place. They have a storied history, and I need to find out how to bring them together—Staccato,’ Octavia said, turning to Staccato. ‘Help me out here. Please.’ Staccato shook his head. ‘I don’t know what you expect me to say, Octavia.’ The room was silent. Staccato was leering. ‘Well then,’ Octavia said, looking at the floor. ‘I guess I’ll be seeing you all soon.’ ‘No, Octavia,’ Vivace called out as Octavia made her way out of the amphitheatre. ‘If there’s something wrong with you, we can... help. I don’t know, okay? Can we talk this out for a little bit? We don’t even understand what’s going on.’ Octavia smiled. ‘I’ll be back soon, Viv. Nothing will be wrong with me soon, once I reunite these two.’ Octavia sighed. ‘I think the next train to Ponyville will be leaving soon. I have to get going.’ ‘Octy...’ Octavia quickly left the building, keeping her smile intact. As soon as she was out of eyesight of the confused troupe behind her still stunned in silence, her expression faded. They’ll all understand soon. I have to find a way somehow. I just hope I don’t look like a fool down the road for this. Octavia felt tears running down her cheek. Ah. ~|D|~ Octavia thought of her abrupt leave—would Vivace be even more worried by the time she gets back? That didn’t matter. What mattered now was if this train could go faster so she could see the dancer and tell her what she’s seen. Reunite the two lovers at last. Make everyone happy. The train ride had actually been ahead of schedule, but it felt like the world slowed to a snail's pace for Octavia. She was excited, yet anxious, as she thought of how she would make the dancer reappear so that she can let him know about Alto. Maybe Staccato could’ve helped? Nah. “Welcome to Ponyville” was etched on a sign in the distance—beads of sweat appeared on Octavia’s forehead. Was she ready to come back already? What were the implications of everything that was happening? As the outline of Ponyville grew larger and larger, her anticipation grew and grew. But, outside the window, a sight seized her chest and left her breathless. She dashed out of the train as soon as it stopped, sprinted to the nearby Hall and collapsed on the ground. The Hall stood, bereft of... well, anything. A mess of wood, partially cleaned up, was where the Hall used to be. Splinters dug their way into Octavia's hooves as she dug through the debris, begging for a sign that she was in the wrong place. She looked around, saw familiar ponies staring back at her, downcast and sullen. The stores were all the same. There was no doubt that this was the Ponyville she knew and loved. All was wood, pain, and the tears that flowed down Octavia’s face. ~|D|~