//------------------------------// // Chapter 2: Octavia's Overture // Story: Between Bassdrops and Bowstrings // by Quillian Inkheart //------------------------------// Chapter 2: Octavia's Overture [v] “Yo, Tavi!” Vinyl waved her hoof, grinning as her friend trotted into sight. The two weren’t fillies anymore; it had been several years since the two had met and much had changed. Octavia was still loved by everypony whenever she played, and plenty of ponies thought she should play in the upcoming Summer Sun Celebration. Princess Celestia would even be there, making it a very tempting offer for the rising star. She had insisted Vinyl practice with her regularly, though Vinyl clearly couldn’t really understand why. The unicorn still wasn’t confident in her music at all. All these years had done nothing to help her find her own way; if anything, it only disheartened the normally unflinching pony. With the sheer number of instruments she'd tried and turned down, Vinyl had started outright questioning Octavia about if her Cutie Mark could be wrong. Violin, piano, turntables, drums, trombone, harp, flute, didgeridoo, lyre, harp, even one of her father’s prototype guitars; no matter what she tried, her picky nature shot it down. None of it was right, she insisted. The music had to be just right. Octavia understood. She couldn’t have used any other instrument than her precious cello; nothing else seemed to feel right. As she approached, she noticed the electric piano in front of Vinyl. Judging by how the light-coated unicorn stopped to glare at the instrument before running to her friend’s side, Octavia assumed this was another failure. Octavia needed to admit, it wasn’t that different from the piano she'd tried last month. “Hey! How’re you doin’, Tavi? Is everythin’ alright at home?” Vinyl asked, letting her usual cheer come back. Time had done little to change Vinyl; in fact, the only real change had been in her appearance. Her father had left Ponyville – all of Equestria even – to create a new genre he called ‘Heavy Metal’ roughly a year before. He'd said he would be departing for the Griffon Empire, as griffons had individual digits on their claws, making them the best players for his guitars. For years, he had been struggling with how to put his new instruments to good use and it seemed he had finally found the answer. Vinyl had reign of the house now, but with how often she either stayed outside or invited Octavia over, the cellist could tell her friend was extremely lonely. This was the real reason she insisted on these practices; not only to improve her skill, but to give Vinyl some company. But today was more than a practice day; today was the day she'd decided to tell Vinyl her grand plan. “Things are well. My step-father is still ecstatic about Fiddle’s progress.” Octavia didn’t sound bitter or jealous about this, simply because she wasn’t; she never would be. She was happy for her sister, who had earned her Cutie Mark playing the fiddle at an Apple family reunion. What bothered Octavia more was how her father expressed his happiness. She understood that boisterous and proud was the Apple way, but she did wish he wouldn’t wake her up from her midday nap, hooting and hollering like a timber-wolf with its paw stuck in a tar pit. Octavia had begun making an income – playing small concerts in the town hall – and sleep was more important now than ever. It didn’t bring in as much money as she wanted, but it was better than nothing. “How about you, Vinyl? Are you well? And no jokes now, I’m serious.” Octavia was truly worried about her friend. In her every action, Octavia saw Vinyl’s sadness. Vinyl knew she saw it; like always, Vinyl had trouble hiding the small, tell-tale signs of her sorrow from her oldest, dearest friend. Octavia was certain that she knew Vinyl almost as well as she knew her cello. Vinyl opened her mouth to say something, but instead cleared her throat and looked away. Octavia watched the lie fall apart on Vinyl's tongue. “Well, anyway…” Octavia changed the topic quickly. “Let us get to practicing. I see you’ve chosen the electric piano this time. Is it any more agreeable?” Vinyl scoffed, something she picked up from Octavia. “What do you think?” She shook her head and rubbed her forehead with a hoof. “About as well as expected. I mean, I didn’t like the piano, did I?” She looked over to Octavia, who was doing her best to hide a grimace from the news. “Should we get started?” The practice went smoothly; at least, as smoothly as it could with Vinyl stopping every now-and-then to scream at her piano and stomp her hooves in frustration. “I just can’t do it, Tavi. I just can’t!” Vinyl confessed, tossing her hooves up in surrender. She stepped away from the piano as if it was diseased. “The music just ain’t right. It ain’t mine, you know?” Vinyl shook her head and covered her eyes with her hooves, leaning on the piano for support. Octavia stood in silence for a few minutes, giving Vinyl some time to think before she spoke. “Hey Vinyl, I’ve been considering… What do you think about the two of us going to Canterlot?” “Eh. Not my first choice for a vacation spot,” Vinyl responded, not taking her hooves from her eyes. Octavia took a deep breath and steeled herself. “No, I meant… I meant more along the lines of us moving there.” Vinyl’s reaction wasn’t entirely what Octavia had expected. “What?” An incredulous tone slipped into the wild pony's voice, though it wasn’t angry. She uncovered her eyes and raised an eyebrow, giving Octavia a quizzical stare. “Why would we leave Ponyville? It’s been our home for years.” Vinyl leaned off her piano, giving her head a small shake. “It’s just…” Octavia muttered, trying to tread carefully over eggshells. “With the Summer Sun Celebration, I could come to Princess Celestia’s attention. Who knows what will happen after that! I want to play the world an overture it’ll never forget, Vinyl.” Octavia shifted on her hooves a bit, trying to avoid Vinyl’s gaze. “But, it’s just that Ponyville isn’t really a place where ponies become famous; Canterlot is. Ponies here aren’t as cultured and don’t respect the classical genre like they do there. I just—” “You know my father became famous from here, right?” The anger in Vinyl’s voice surprised Octavia, but there was more worry than anger – perhaps a hint of sorrow? With a sudden, brief epiphany, she came to realize that she'd never seen Vinyl truly angry before. “Oh, I know that, Vinyl. But techno isn’t classical," she said, trying to laugh the tension away. "It’s a lot like Ponyville, really; loud, uncultured, and…” Octavia trailed off under Vinyl’s glare. Those angry eyes made a shiver run through her whole body. “Don’t stop ‘cause of me. And what?” Vinyl sounded oddly cold. Octavia swallowed and continued. “… and just a touch uncouth.” Octavia finished meekly. She regretted the words instantly. “Uncouth!?” This time, Vinyl’s voice was heated and, to Octavia’s horror, even furious. With a scowl, Vinyl stormed from the piano. “You know what? I’m done with this conversation. I’m outta here, before I say somethin’ I’ll regret.” Octavia took a few steps towards her. “Vinyl, please don’t—” “Don’t what, Tavi? Be too uncouth for you?” Vinyl said with her back still turned. She sounded hurt now, another step in a flurry of confused emotions. Anger took back over. “Did you hear about Fluttershy?” Vinyl asked without turning to face her friend. “She was teaching birds to sing on the road near town hall. The mayor said she wanted her to build a bird orchestra for the Princess. I asked; you won’t be playing at the celebration.” Vinyl's voice broke at the end of her sentence, as if she was fighting back tears. Octavia froze. Pain, anger, and not a little loss warred for dominance in her heart. She felt like her greatest chance was being pulled out from under her, like some cheap rug. She'd been right all along. The ponies here didn’t appreciate her musical talent. How could they? “That’s all the more reason to leave, isn’t it?” Her voice came out emotionless, but Octavia was anything but. She felt like her heart was about to explode in her chest. Vinyl groaned and wiped her eyes, turning back and walking to the piano, folding it up in silence. “Come on, Vinyl. We could go to Canterlot University, if we wanted. Learn to play music under the guidance of the greatest of musicians. We don’t need to be stuck here, miles from nowhere. I just want to see you shine, Vinyl. Not hide in this backwater town where ponies don’t respect our talents.” Vinyl strapped the piano onto her back with deliberate slowness and without a single sound, turning to look at her friend once she was done. “You’re kidding, right?” Vinyl's anger had passed into a strange kind of cold that Octavia had never seen before. “We both know this has nothing to do with me. I can’t believe you’re asking me to move away from my home to chase your dreams. Do you have any idea how petty and selfish that is?” “Petty? Selfish!?” Now it was Octavia’s turn to be angry. The bubble that had grown in her heart burst and Vinyl was the nearest target. “I’m suggesting this for you, so your talent won’t be limited by this town! I’m thinking of you, Vinyl! You’re crippling yourself by staying in this place!” “‘This place?’ You mean the place where I was raised? The place my dad met my mom? Where he became famous? Where everythin’ I know and love is? Where I met you? And all this before I even understand myself? But it's okay, because you're thinking of me, right? How’s trying to guilt me into movin’ away not selfish?” Octavia kept her scowl. She was getting tired of arguing. “Vinyl,” She began as she picked up her cello, placing it on her back. “I’m leaving for Canterlot tonight. I’ve decided and I won’t change my mind. If you want to join me, I’ll be at the train station. Please, reconsider my offer.” Before Vinyl could reply, Octavia turned and trotted off, fighting off stinging tears of agitation. Or at least, that's what she told herself they were. Octavia returned home, her anger simmering down into the embers of annoyance. Avoiding her family, Octavia hurried to her room, placing her cello beside the door before she began packing her saddlebags. Emotions like dominoes began falling through her mind, one after the other, until she was weeping into her blankets, unsure of her own decision. What if she made the wrong choice? What if she wasn’t cut out for Canterlot? What if— A knock at her door snapped her out of her contemplation. She quickly sniffed away her tears and pulled her blankets over her saddlebags. “Yes?” She tried to keep the tears out of her voice, but she couldn’t. She just couldn’t. “Octavia, dear? Is everything all right?” Octavia’s mother opened the door, frowning slightly. Octavia took strongly after her mother, sharing the same color coat and mane. Melodious Pitch’s Cutie Mark was a green musical coda, resting beside a treble clef. She wore her hair in a less conservative style than her daughter, pinned up with accessories shaped like musical notes clipped in. “You’re not normally so distant.” “Everything is fine, mother.” Octavia looked to her bed, trying to keep her mother from noticing the residue of her tears. She had tried to hold in her emotions, but she needed to cry. After that, she’d be just fine. “I’m no foal, Octavia. I know when something is wrong with my little darling.” Pitch trotted to her daughter’s side, smiling a soft, motherly smile. “What’s the matter?” Octavia bit the inside of her cheek, knowing she wouldn’t be able to lie to her mother. She slid the blanket off her saddlebags, earning a surprised gasp. “I wasn’t going to worry you all.” “Octavia, where are you going?” Concern filled her mother’s voice, her eyes brimming with the same emotion. “Canterlot. The ponies here don’t respect my music, mother. They’re all, if you’ll excuse my rudeness, bumpkins. The Apples are at least respectable and care for their own, but most of Ponyville’s masses are…” Octavia trailed off and shook her head. “Incompetent, unworthy and terribly uncouth. I wish to be among real ponies, mother, like you were back when you met father. Back in Canterlot.” Melodious Pitch stared at Octavia, sadness brimming over her normally collected demeanor. “So, you are ready. I suppose a part of me knew this day was coming.” During a pause, she moved to Octavia’s side, helping her fold her clothes. “Your sister will be devastated, you know.” Octavia felt a pang of regret. Fiddlesticks was still as reliant on her as she always had been. Octavia often worried how her half-sister would learn to survive in the world if she kept clinging to her. “Fiddle will be fine, mother. Between you, her father, and the other Apples, she has plenty of family support. I’ve just been a crutch for her all these years. Better she’s thrust out now, rather than fumble through life trying to hold on to my tail.” Pitch didn’t answer at first, but just stared at her daughter while she folded. “You aren’t going to tell her, are you?” Octavia was silent, but finally let out a sigh of defeat. Her mother could almost read her mind sometimes. “No. How can I face her, telling her I’m going to leave? I wouldn’t be able to do it and go through with it. But I have to go, mother. My fame lies elsewhere, not in this place. I don’t want to hurt Fiddlesticks, but no matter what I do, she’ll suffer for it. This is the best way.” Melodious Pitch placed a hoof on Octavia’s side. “Look, I know it isn’t much, but I have a few old contacts in Canterlot. If you go to them and tell them you’re my daughter, it should give your career a kick-start and get you a place to stay that’s cheap and decent. But sweetheart, you can’t just leave Fiddlesticks without saying goodbye. That would be far too cruel. She’s always looked up to you and the least you can do for her is tell her you’re leaving.” The truth stung Octavia harshly. She closed her eyes and forced back her emotions. “I… suppose you’re right. Could you go get her, please?” “I will in just a second.” Pitch stepped up to her daughter's front, looking her up and down. “You’ve grown too fast, my little symphony. It seems like just yesterday that you were still just a tiny foal. Please, be careful, okay? I’ll worry about you every day.” Octavia rested her head below her mothers, hugging her close. “I know, mom. I’ll be careful, I promise. I need to see Fiddle now. If I stay too long, I don’t think I’ll be able to go.” “I understand, Octavia. You’ll always have a place here, don’t forget. I love you,” Pitch said softly, giving Octavia a quick kiss on the top of her head before leaning back from the hug. “I know, mom. I love you, too. Thank you.” As she watched her mother go, Octavia let her emotions follow. For now, she would be empty. This night had no room for emotions, no place for hesitation. She knew that this conversation with her sister would be the hardest thing she'd ever done. Octavia sighed as she sat at the train station. She’d forgotten in the heat of everything that it was scheduled to rain tonight. The train was still running, though, and she wouldn’t let a little rain stop her from her destiny. As the train pulled into view the dark clouds started to weep and she took a few steps back to place herself under the awning that covered the train station. She wasn’t watching the train however. Her eyes were fixed on the spot Vinyl would come from, hopeful but not expectant. The sound of the conductor calling everypony aboard made her wince. It was the final nail in the proverbial coffin, so to speak. With one last glimpse at Ponyville, Octavia got on the train, her cello resting on her back. She refused to watch out the window. The rain made her think of Fiddlesticks. The conversation hadn’t been a pleasant one. In the coming days, Fiddle would learn to live her life without help. She would feel so alone, so sad. But she wasn't alone. Octavia had made her sister cry. Silently shifting in her seat, she wondered if Vinyl was crying for her too. The trip was uneventful, though Octavia used the time to craft new compositions. She would be well-prepared when she arrived in Canterlot; she couldn’t go into this half-baked or she’d get chewed up and spat out. Playing the songs over and over in her head, she deemed them worthy of Canterlot’s refined pallet. Night had long fallen and Octavia found the sleeping car. Climbing into an empty cot, she allowed herself to drift to sleep for the rest of her trip, not a thought of the home she left behind fluttering through her mind. She thought only of the fame that awaited her in Canterlot. It was daylight when the horn of the train woke her up. Rolling up the blinds of her window, Octavia saw they had arrived at their destination. Her breath was stolen by this sudden reality; she was here. She climbed from the cot, composed herself on the train and retrieved her saddlebags. She ordered a small rental cart from a spot near the station to carry it all, along with her cello. Wasting no time, Octavia hurried towards her mother’s contact. She wandered the streets, soaking in the grandeur of the city, while keeping her eyes peeled for what she was looking for. Eventually, she found it. The offices of the producer Gerald Flaxenmane was where she purchased her residence, a small apartment not far from that location. As it turned out, Flaxenmane was related to Melodious' old producer and was a producer himself; he easily pointed Octavia to a few key locations to ply her talents and possibly make a name for herself. With a wish of luck and the first steps behind her, Octavia went proudly on her way. Her first appointment was the most promising; a budding composer by the name of Noteworthy was looking for musicians of skill to join into his orchestra. Octavia was one of many performing at the open audition and, with some skill and a little bit of luck, might be one of the two ponies chosen to join Noteworthy’s crew. Noteworthy was a blue earth pony with even darker blue hair, and carried a dignified air of a refined Canterlot pony. Octavia could barely keep from trotting in place; she was eager to get onto the stage and show her worth. As each pony went up, Octavia kept her eyes glued on Noteworthy, in the front row of the amphitheater he was using for his auditions. While he listened to the music, his expressions shifted notably. Through careful observation, Octavia was able to narrow down her music to a symphony she was certain he would like. After a sousaphone player named Beauty Brass exited the stage, it was Octavia’s turn. Taking a deep breath, she made her way out in front of the composer. Placing her cello down gingerly in front of her, she took up her bow and prepared herself with a deep breath and a slow, soft sigh. She flowed into the soft composition she had chosen – one of the ones she'd written on the train – rocking her body slowly as the music leaked from her cello like stars showering from the sky. She had planned on watching Noteworthy’s face, but she found herself lost in the music yet again, eyes closed and body entranced by her own sound. This was by no means uncommon. She often lost herself into the hypnotic rhythm of her own music. Creation – pure creation – flowed from her heart, through her brain and out of her hooves, channeling through her cello to create the most magnificent sounds. Her music was like a newborn foal, just entering the world, brimming with potential and promise. The song rang in her ears, making the sensations heighten and drop as she swayed and placed her head closer to her instrument of creation, like a mother coddling her child. The song slowly drew to a close and Octavia was brought back to reality again. Her eyes opened and looked quickly to Noteworthy, whose jaw looked as if it was about to unhinge. Octavia couldn’t help but giggle at the sight, despite how rude it was. She at least turned her head and covered her mouth, so it might be harder to notice. Every pony had moved closer, looking at her with a mixture of fascination and curiosity. She suddenly felt very vulnerable under all those eyes. Bowing, she started off the stage, knowing she’d stolen the show. It came as no surprise to her when Noteworthy spoke to her after the others had performed. “My dear, your performance was très magnifique! Tell me, Miss Melody, would you care to join my orchestra as lead cellist?” Octavia expected the offer, but it didn’t make her heart beat any less quickly. Lead cellist! “Of course, Mister Noteworthy! Oh,” she trailed off slightly. “But you’ll have to give me some time. I only just arrived in Canterlot and I’ll need some time to adjust.” “Nonsense,” Noteworthy said with a dismissive flick of his hoof. “Once I’m finished here, you and I will make plans to attend several gatherings. We will have your name spread across Canterlot by the week’s end.” Octavia couldn’t have hoped for better. She forced herself to contain her excitement, nodding to Noteworthy. The wait wasn’t very long and soon, Noteworthy was leading Octavia and her cart of belongings through Canterlot. After visiting several of Noteworthy’s close associates and scheduling a few dinners and meetings, the two ended at Octavia’s new apartment. It was a fine building, but what caught Octavia’s eye was a music store across the street, named ‘Hoof-Spun Records.’ It was a rather small store with a rather big sign; a massive vinyl record. Octavia couldn’t stop herself, the sight of the sign drew tears from her eyes until she forced her attention onto Noteworthy, to the exclusion of all else. “Ah, are you staying here? I know the landlord of this complex. He owns the music store across the way.” Noteworthy politely opened the door for Octavia, who began carrying her belongings up. “Please, Miss Melody, allow me to help you carry your things. I’ll have you settled in your new home before the Princess raises the moon.” As much of a gentlepony as Noteworthy seemed, Octavia couldn’t help but feel that, perhaps he was being nicer than he usually was. She was, after all, his new cellist and he needed to win her over completely. His flowery words about her apartment were pleasant; however the nicer her home, the better it would reflect on him of course. Longing stabbed at her heart; Ponyville was simple, uncomplicated. You knew what everypony around you felt without much thought. Briefly, she looked over her shoulder at the giant record and considered fate again. Maybe this was fate’s way of scolding her for what she’d given up. Time seemed to blend together, each day another drop of water into a vast pool. In the week after her audition, Octavia met her fellow members in the ensemble: A mare named Concerto, a violinist with a brown coat and mane; Frederick Horseshoepin, a pianist with a teal coat and a mane so blonde, it shined in the light; Parish Nanderman, a harp player with a purple coat and a blue mane; A yellow-coated violinist mare named Symphony, who had a vibrant-purple mane and, lastly, Beauty Brass, the sousaphone-playing mare she had seen at the audition. With a turquoise coat and a light-brown mane, she was Octavia’s personal favorite. She had an intense passion for her instrument – much like Octavia had – that other ponies couldn’t seem to completely understand. If somepony insulted brass instruments of any kind – especially the sousaphone – with her nearby, they quickly learned how sharp a formal mare’s tongue could be. After acquainting herself with her team, Octavia began to make herself better known throughout Canterlot. As Noteworthy had promised, he helped spread her name like wildfire through dense brush. It was no time at all before he helped land her a solo concert, giving her a chance to truly shine. All the better for his orchestra, of course. Four days before her performance, Octavia discovered the incident at Ponyville’s Summer Sun Celebration; the return of Nightmare Moon – now Princess Luna – and the rumors floating around that the Princess’ star pupil had moved to Ponyville. It seemed that little town held more promise than Octavia could have ever anticipated. But, it still wasn’t for her, clearly. Eyeing the vinyl sign across the street, Octavia began thinking back to the friend she left behind. She hadn’t gotten a single letter from Vinyl in over a month. She had asked that Noteworthy contact her old friend with her information so letters could be sent, and Noteworthy swore he'd done just that, but there was no word. Octavia couldn’t hide the pain that stabbed at her heart; Vinyl hadn’t even written her to come home, or even to tell her she was missed. But still, she held hope that she could still convince her to move to Canterlot. Perhaps if she saw her concert, she would realize the potential of this wonderful city and join her. Even if she didn’t, seeing her would be nice. Moving to her desk, Octavia dug out an ink pen and started to write. No going through Noteworthy this time; she would send it directly to Vinyl, along with a ticket for her friend. With hope, she sent the letter off with the mailpony. She spent the next three days in a flurry of practice and preparation. She wanted Vinyl's first concert to be perfect. The day of the concert came and went. Vinyl didn’t show. No letter came back, no contact was even attempted. Lamenting over their last conversation, Octavia was heartbroken by the silence. She hadn’t stopped to think about how she’d acted in that last meeting between the two of them. How quickly she had made her decision, without thinking about the consequences. “I pushed too hard…” She buried her head into her pillow that night, crying softly to herself over her loss. “I pushed too hard and now… now she’s gone…” The next month passed slowly as a snail, but pass it did. Octavia’s first concert was a huge success and soon, she found herself swamped with venues to play, invitations to events, and even a few offers to romantic dinners. She had caught Canterlot by storm with her passionate playing and beautiful compositions. Every time she was set to perform, she wrote Vinyl, including a front-row ticket with every letter, but Vinyl never came. Eventually, Octavia gave up completely at trying to contact her old friend. It was hopeless. She had burned and buried the bridges between them in an effort to grow and now, she could only see her friend in memories. She considered a temporary trip to Ponyville, but with her ever-increasing amount of attention and work, she was pressed to find time even for simple things anymore, let alone the emotional and time-consuming complexity of returning to Ponyville. And what would she say to Vinyl when she saw her? I told you so? She had become famous – lived her dream – just as she said she would; just as she hoped she would. Her name was known by everypony who was anypony in Canterlot’s musical circle and beyond. Why then, Octavia wondered to herself one night, staring out her window at the sign across the street, am I so miserable…? It was mid-way through her fifth month in Canterlot when the thought crossed her mind. Her life was everything she could’ve wanted. She was famous, an overnight sensation – the face of the classical genre to some. But even surrounded by crowds of fans, friends, and associates, she felt almost painfully alone. Through the rest of the year, she became acutely aware that hardly anypony in Canterlot was truly her friend. Beauty Brass and a few others aside, everypony here only liked her for her fame, not for who she herself was. They used her to impress others or entertain themselves for a while, but none of them truly appreciated her like Vinyl had. Octavia’s only consolation was her stardom. She had everything she ever wanted, right? Right? Octavia shut her door loudly and walked into her apartment with a weary sigh. It was the night after her single greatest and most unquestionable failure: the Grand Galloping Gala. What should have been the best night of her life, tarnished by a pink pony with no sense of class, a stampede of animals, and flying cakes! She couldn’t have made this madness up if she’d tried! The Gala was a phenomenal disaster – not just for her, but for many ponies that had gone. Her dreams of being personally noticed by Princess Celestia were, once again, shattered. Tossing her bowtie and collar onto her bed, Octavia took up her usual spot by the window, where she always went when she was feeling down. Yes, she'd remembered Pinkie Pie and her antics. Yes, she'd seen Applejack and thought immediately of her sister. She hadn't forgotten Ponyville one little bit. But she had avoided them. She had ignored them. She'd pretended they weren't there, because it was easier than staring her past in the face, on the day of her – obviously questionable – success, when she'd finally draw Celestia's eye and become the greatest musician in Equestria. Success... Octavia thought to herself with a defeated sigh. Some success that was... The sign hadn’t changed one bit in all this time, still a reminder of the past she had left behind so willingly. And for what? A lonely limelight? Was fame really all it was cracked up to be? Octavia truly wasn’t sure of that anymore. The only thing she was sure of was that she could never go back. She sighed and stared at the sign. Several times, Noteworthy had hinted that she should upgrade her apartment and find a larger place in a better part of the city. Octavia always refused though. She wouldn’t leave that sign, or all that it stood for, behind. She could never return to Ponyville, never face the ponies she abandoned, but she wouldn’t abandon her memories. What would she say to her family? What would Vinyl say to her? Would she even say anything at all? Octavia hadn’t heard from her friend in over a year and, now more than ever, she wished she had gotten even one letter from her dear friend, just so she would know she still cared. Just then, something caught her eye, a spot of white-ish on the dark windows of the music store. It wasn’t unusual for new posters to be placed up in the store, sponsoring the newest musical trend – Octavia had even been in that window once or twice – but this sign was different; it dwarfed all the others with its intensity, not reserved in any way, so opposite from Canterlot’s usual fair. But that wasn’t what caught Octavia’s eye. She leaned out the window as much as she safely could, trying to get a closer look and make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her. She squinted and, with some effort, was finally able to get a good look. There – on that explosive poster – was Vinyl, wearing a pair of outlandish glasses that only she could pull off. She was exactly as Octavia remembered, grinning as usual, surrounded by massive speakers and musical notes. The boisterous words, massive beside Vinyl, reminded Octavia of her loud presence and commanding personality. Octavia couldn’t help but smile, despite her shock, at seeing her friend. The words read simply; ‘DJ-Pon3! Bringer of the Bass! Buy her first, hit CD today!’ Octavia closed her eyes, thinking over what she’d just seen. Vinyl Scratch, her friend, had done exactly what she said couldn’t be done. She’d made music, made a name for herself, right from her home in Ponyville. Drawing in a breath, Octavia started to steel herself. She leaned back into the window, trying to stop the shivering that had taken over her body. She was living a lie. Her dreams were a sham. She whimpered, and then she started to cry.