Epilogue - Any Way You Want It
Six Weeks Later
Octavia's ears swiveled as she inadvertently picked up bits and pieces of the conversation around her. The chatter at Carneighgie Hall had changed drastically the past few weeks. Instead of "excellent" and "perfect," now she heard words like "moving" and "inspirational" being used to describe the music, which she thought were much more suitable terms. Opinion of the Orchestra had never been higher, as Luna had predicted.
Even better, Octavia thought, were the dissenters: those who didn't enjoy the sounds they heard. Going against the social grain was a big no-no in Canterlot, so if the Orchestra was making these ponies feel so strongly that they felt the need to make an unpopular opinion known, they were doing their job beautifully.
The gray mare had a destination in mind, however, and would not be so easily distracted. She made her way through the crowd towards a side door, beyond which she knew the musicians were gathering after their performance.
Slipping through the portal, she spotted her target immediately: Coda was having a chat with Uplifting Tune and Whistling Wind, two violists Octavia had never met outside of rehearsal. In the interest of being polite, she directed her attention elsewhere, namely to her former section.
“Hello, Fermata,” she greeted.
Her fellow cellist started violently. “Oh! Uh… H-hey, Octavia! Didn’t expect to see you here!”
“Well, the stage door isn’t exactly locked, and of course I would be here to see you perform. That was wonderful!” The praise came easily, probably because it was sincere. “You’ve really stepped up to the first chair hotseat!”
“Th-thank you,” Fermata whispered. “I had been.. um…”
Octavia set a hoof on her friend’s shoulder to comfort her. “You’re doing great. I’m glad I could leave the cellos in your hooves.”
Fermata flushed lightly, not used to such direct admiration. Octavia had always been the shining star of the Symphony, and now she was commending her on her work!
“But be aware: There’s always room for improvement. You’d better blow me even further away the next time I see you in concert!”
“Of course, Octavia,”
Satisfied, Octavia turned to see Coda waiting behind her. “Congratulations, you old coot,” she said with a smirk.
He smiled warmly in reply. “There was a time you would never dream of insulting your conversation partner so harshly,”
“Times change,”
Coda let loose a full-bellied chuckle. “‘Change’ does not adequately describe what you’ve done, Octavia. ‘Revolutionize’ is closer to the actual action.” He took a deep breath and settled himself. “I want to thank you, Octavia. On behalf of every musician and artist in this city. We all owe you a debt of gratitude; the Dreamscape theater has opened new avenues of culture to Canterlot, and I’ve heard tell of plans to restore other halls in the area, too. Thank you for giving this to us. Thank you for not being afraid.”
Octavia felt tears welling up, and coughed into her hoof to mask the act of wiping them away. “I never did it for the thanks,”
Her mentor nodded. “And that is why you deserve thanks,”
Unable to stand still any longer, Octavia threw her forelegs around the older stallion. She held him for a moment, regained her failing composure, then let go. “I… that means a lot to me.”
“I know. That’s why I said it!”
-XXX-
The peaceful evening gave way to a brilliant dusk, complete with a blended purple sky and pale moon. Illuminated as Canterlot was by streetlamps at regular intervals, Octavia easily spotted an approaching pony.
“So, how did it go?”
“Swimmingly, Vinyl. Couldn’t have gone better.”
“Awesome. Sorry I couldn’t make it.” Despite her known preferences, Octavia detected genuine regret in her companion’s voice. Another point for the new and improved symphony: reaching out to those with completely different tastes.
“Quite alright. Nopony should force you to listen to good music.”
“If it’s good enough, I won’t be forced. When’s the Symphony’s new record coming out?”
“The Symphony doesn’t make records, Vinyl.”
Vinyl’s reaction was a tad dramatic, Octavia thought. Certainly she would never hold her throat and make choking noises while spasming on the ground like a fish out of water.
“Oh, now you’re just embarrassing yourself,”
“But!” Vinyl coughed and wheezed. “But that… you… why not!?”
“Ticket sales have always been enough for revenue,” Octavia explained with just a touch of impatience. “There has never been a reason to spend more money on a recording session.”
“But now that ponies will actually want to listen to your music, it could be a good idea!”
Octavia decided to walk away from that comment, but not without an annoyed remark of her own. “You truly are a master of back-hooved compliments, aren’t you?”
“I don’t know what that means.”
The pair stopped in front of a familiar facade: The Dreamscape’s front door. What drew their attention, though, was the rather conspicuous cardboard package on the steps. It was a good size, enough to hold at least a breadbox, and had two holes cut in the side. It was wrapped up with twine and ribbon, and had a small tag attached to the top.
Vinyl immediately backed away from it, using Octavia as cover.
The gray mare frowned at her. “Really?”
“Hey, it only takes one stupid prank for you to be wary of any box with holes in it,” she defended.
Having never been the target of any such prank, Octavia boldly trotted up to the box and read the short message on the tag.
Miss Melody,
Remember that you, above anypony else, have the power to make your own wishes a reality.
Sincerely yours,
Luna
Now more than a little curious, Octavia pried open the lid of the box with ease, and peeked inside. She gaped at the contents, hardly daring to believe her eyes. Nestled on a midnight blue pillow, sleeping softly, was the cutest puppy she had ever seen.