One of my favorite things about being... well... me is that because of my shades, nopony knows when I have my eyes open or not.
And I like to keep it that way.
Much like this moment right here...
As I sit to the side of the audience...
With my eyes closed and my head rolling... tasting... soaking.
The Castle of Friendship has flooded with purple, and in the darkness I can see the violet and indigo streams alternating in counter-clockwise rotation. Nopony knows how to throw sound around like Tavi. I dive down the velvet throat of it, twirling slowly in molasses motion.
I could drown in this. I am drowning in this. I've experienced this blissful baptism far too many times to ever appropriately summarize the sensation. Even still, after seven odd years of rapturous exposure, I'm left breathless by the talent, the finesse, the brilliant burgundy bass of her elegant cello strings.
I can only imagine what it's doing to the palpitating cores of the Princess and her dear friends. But that's okay. Until the suite is over, I'll let my fantasies do the flailing.
It's a curious thing to be able to live again. Every moment is sweet... every heartbeat is delicious. The sunlight stabs brighter and the moonlight looms mellower, but everything is deliriously soft in between. I feel as though I'm one of the few to know this, to experience it, to dwell on it every morning and night.
But I'm something that's even more special than all of that combined.
I'm Octavia's friend.
Her suite culminates into a swift salvo of bass reverberations, reaching crescendo, then easing off with an almost anticlimactically knife-edged drop in noise. Only after two breaths have followed does everypony realize that their own riveting heartbeats are acting as the number's lasting percussion.
And that's when they start applauding.
I can't help but wince from the staccato crimson bursts. I squeeze one eye open, and then the other.
Pinkie Pie is the first thing I see, hopping in place with a bright grin. "Bravo! Bravo! It all sounded like a bunch of jumbled strings to me—but really really fun strings! Bravo!"
"Pinkie, honestly!" Rarity sniffs, and I can tell from the brief blue ripple in her voice that she's close to tears. "That was an utterly beautiful masterpiece! Well played, Miss Melody!"
"Darn pretty, I'd say!" Applejack adds.
"Very well done," Fluttershy says, smiling. "And... uhm... a lot... erm... calmer than Miss Scratch's performance."
Twilight and Pinkie Pie giggle.
"Eh... it was a'ight," stabs a black dagger.
I wince slightly, then peer towards the stage where a limp mare relaxes her tense muscles for the first time in months.
Octavia smiles, bowing gracefully at the group. She turns towards me, her eyes reflecting my visor from afar. Maybe she knows my eyes are open at this point, maybe she doesn't. It matters little, because we're us.
Her muzzle moves, a quiet whisper from afar. Thing is, I've heard it so many times that I know what she's saying by just reading the lip movement: "Another day, another chorus, love."
And it is full of violet, as is her smile. I'm drowning again, and I couldn't be any prouder.
Or happier.