“Mr. Tone, you requested to perform Ponybels Cannon with a Fortepiano accomplice. You may start at any time and the pianist will join in.”
Looking towards the small table, Leading squinted to readjust to the bright and flashy stage light poured onto him. Turning to his left, he observed his pianist readjusting the pages in front of him. Pulling the Viola up onto his shoulders, he started the simple cannon, allowing the smaller sound of his instrument be taken in by the introduced Fortepiano. Relaxing, he continued playing the song, letting his pianist follow his stylistic changes. Keeping his cool, he played the song with as much emotion and vigor.
The wedge shape of the auditorium magnified the music played; making the sound that reached the ears of the judges to become louder that if he was to play out in a park. The sounds of his four metallic strings flew as they oscillated against the bridge. The slurred moments with his bow would have awed any amateur.
As the two skilled musicians played, their duet echoed together with great harmony. The unnatural tug and pull of the song continued throughout the audition until Leading came to the end of the piece, letting the pianist catch up from the two measure gap.
Easing the wooden instrument from his fore-hooves, he stood up from his seat and walked down the stage.
As he got to his seat, covered by his case left ajar, the table of judges announced to all the musicians. “That ends the audition; we will spend the today reviewing each of your performances. You will receive a letter regarding the outcome of the audition later today, and the musician deemed the best suited will revive a formal invitation. That is all, you are dismissed.”
Following with the judges, the small mob of talents picked up their cases and left stage room, leaving the just finished Leading by himself. Stowing away his instrument in his case, Leading picked up his belongings and headed to the recently used exit. Peering out of the theater and into the winter streets, Leading walked back to his home, both nervous and fearful of what was to come of the audition.
My entrance wasn’t so good, he thought, I could have done more vibrato or I could have put more emphasis on the piano parts. Leadings mind continued to bombard itself with the questions of doubt, increasing furthermore as the mute silence of the streets allowed him to think louder in his mind. Oh Celestia, He thought, What would happen if I don’t make it, what will I do, no job, no cash. I need to be picked. Those final thought of the auditions outcomes make the stallion stop in his tracks. His current life situation had put him in an endless spiral of doom that kept him in a constant state of failures.
Stopping at a slow intersection, Leading thought back to his recent trip to Canterlot, replaying the two days that ruined him. But through those memories, all that Leading could think of was that moment, right as he peered over Octavia’s resting body, with his hoof embraced by her subconscious hug. In all of that, Leading could feel a bit of warmth rekindled in his heart. It was as if her sleeping act had ignited the lonely soul stuck in his body.
Jumping back to his reality, the intersection had halted, letting Leading to pass. Using this jolt from daydreaming, Leading calmed his thought, reassuring himself that he had a good possibility to getting accepted. Getting back to his more important matters, Leading continued to navigate throughout the city, walking by shops and restaurants. Yet all that was walking in his mind was the image of Octavia on the bed.
No, he thought to himself, she hates you and thinks you are a pervert. She has done nothing but made your life harder. These thought echoed in his skull for the rest of the walk, and continued as he made it into his home. Closing his mind to open his door, Leading popped into his humble apartment, locking the door behind him. Walking into his bedroom, he dropped his viola case down near his bed as he took a great leap into his mattress.
Breathing in the nice smell of a semi-fresh bed cover, Leading cracked his head to the right, looking at his night stand standing in front of his eyes. Scanning through the random junk he had on it, he reached out and pulled out a small parchment. Pulling to his face, he read over the page. The page, recently made, was the only thing that helped explained what happened after that day. Reading over it, all that he could surmise was the utter failure he had on that day. Listening to the silent words Vinyl wrote, Leading felt a prick of joy as he knew the only thing keeping him from a lawsuit was her. Vinyl always was able to read a face with ninety nine percent certainties of how you were feeling and how to help fix your pain. He envied her for her emotional skills, but yet wished for her skill to know what she is feeling right now, a small taste of distrust, some sadness and disappointment. Whatever she felt of him, he knew he would never find out, and it although it pains him to be reminded of his lost of a friend, he couldn’t get out the reason why he lost his friend.
The recollection of Octavia started to come back, but before he could even think of something else, all that he felt was of a strong warmth flowing in his core. The sole inception of the sight of her face brought small touches of joy in his head.
Stop, he said to himself, you feel nothing, and she feels the same. Sighing, Leading just pulled up the covers closed his eyes, letting him wait for the letter in his sleep. Letting the calm relaxation of his mind, Leading sunk into his bed, resting his body and mind. As his self awareness dulled, sharp jolts of fear overtook Leading. Engulfed in memories of his past, Leading observed through such as surreal sense, of the day that had haunted him. A day in his recent past that had brought him to this moment, tormenting him all along the way. As the dream rolled onwards, he started to lose his grasp of physical relaxation, as in his reaction to the memory, he moved around his limp body, trying to swat away the feelings of pain. Slowly through the confrontation, he gained enough control in his dream to think. With all his will power, he repeated the same thought trough his mind THIS IS NOT REAL, Only a memory.
Muttering that mantra constantly as his conscious started to fade into emptiness, his grasp of his dream started to loosen. Each of the clashing pains he felt pierce his chest, he felt his life awareness grow away. The painful experience flowed throughout his body, keeping his body in a long lasting self torment. Giving into the desires of his subconscious, Leading silenced himself, and blocked off his senses before opening his arms to the pain that was surely to follow, but amid the initial nothingness, Leadings pain was ebbed away. Opening his hearing and curling up his eyes, he observed the haunting blackness, a blackness that fell upon the uncanny valley, yet had not felt threatening in any way. The void that filled him was restful and filled with much peace.
Where is the pain, he asked out to the darkness. Leading did not expect a response from the void, but something did pass through his ear. “Rise Ser Tone, I hold an important message.” The voice was calm and humble; it had a male distinction but held no hurry. A moment of silence followed before the message came again, but stronger and with some deep pitched sounds, like the sound of punched wood. “Rise Ser Tone, I hold an important message!” The sounds became louder and were spaced less as the following times he heard the voice, the once at peace sound became frantic, “Rise Ser Tone!” it called, “I hold an important message!”
The voice continued constantly, giving a moment of peace before the sounds and the voice came with great worry. It continued and before long, it became painful to endure the auditory assault on his head. The voice, long giving up on his ladder end of the message, had only spoken his name “Leading Tone?” Soon his mind and body clashed as his conscious self tried to waken, but was held in check by the tired and sleep-lusting subconscious. The battle between the two was ended rightly as Leading felt himself open his eyes. The bright light of the afternoon sun embraced his eyes, as his head caught on to the open window he was staring at, his ears started to hear the sounds of a frantic hoof hitting the front door. “Mister Tone! For both of our sakes, open this Celestia damned door!”
Awakened by his situation Leading jumped out of his bed, ignoring the sheets that just flew off; raced out of the bed room and ran right to the front door. Fumbling with the lock, Leading clicked the lever open and pulled the knob back. As the door opened, he was met face to face with one of the judges from the audition. Surprised by the unorthodox form of communication, he greeted his new guest, hoping to explain the situation of the past five minutes. “Hello Sir, um, this is weird of me saying this but I’m about my sleeping habits, I’m that one percent that sleeps like a log when nervous.” Opening the door fully, he was able to observe the much flustered pony. The judge, a stallion of medium build, had seemed to be much more relaxed now that he opened the door. The simple black two piece suit implied of an occupation outside of labor and it fit well with his white coat, the blue frizzed hair seemed to go fitting with his features. Concentrating back to the conversation, he heard the judge respond. “Mister Tone, on behalf of the planning committee, I welcome you to perform for us as a stand in Violist.” Bowing his head out of respect, he continued, “I have the music we will commission for you to perform with me, but due to time restraints, you will be rehearsing with the other musicians the day of the Masquerade ball.
Shocked by the sudden transition, Leading looked back at the judge, filling himself with joy as the judge took out the stack of music from a satchel on his back. “Here you go,” he said as he gave the music to Leading, “And remember, this is a full Masquerade ball, you will have to use a full mask, if you don’t have one, we can lend you one.”
Checking his satchel, the judge turned to Leading, “I think that is all, so I will leave you be, and I hope to see you in two days.” Moving out of the door frame, the judge started to let Leading by himself to practice, but was stopped by a question from Leading.
“Sir, why me?” he asked.
“What do you mean as why you, you were the best, obviously” the judge replied.
“No sir, I mean, I don’t really play as a professional, I’m just a normal pony who tried out, I know there were others more capable than I that were on that roster.” Leading replied
Rubbing his foreleg, the judge looked back at the questioning stallion, “To be honest, I know that you were less capable than the rest, but that is why I picked you.” He started, “you had taken this challenge of auditioning, even when there were ponies more capable than you, and when you got on stage, you played from your heart, not from your talent.” Clearing his throat, he turned away and started on his way, “That is why you were picked, you love of music.”
2 days later
Through a laboring two days, Leading managed to crunch through the long list of musical pieces, finding that the list of twenty scores had been less than delightful in learning, even less so in just two days. Yet with all of his work, and small favors asked around his hometown, he was able to scrounge together a simple black suit to fit his white hair, and a golden mask to cover his front head.
The short cab ride towards the ball was expectedly rigged, an experience he would normally hackle with the driver, but in the sake of professionalism, he let it go. Moving to the main entrance, he took out a government issued ID, and showed it to the door pony. Taking the card, the door pony crossed the name on the list. Finding a match he handed him back the ID and gave him a pamphlet. “These are your fellow musicians, they should be coming soon, but you only have two hours before the guests arrive.” The Door pony instructed Leading towards the music room where they were to practice all together.
As he entered the cramped and poorly illuminated room, Leading laid his viola case down of the floor and prepared the enclosed instrument. Once he checked the wood and strings, he laid it down on a nearby desk, and as he waited for the other musicians, Leading took of his golden mask and flipped thru the pamphlet. Checking through the important guests that were to celebrate this occasion, he checked to the back where the planning committee had listed those who catered, maintained and performed at the ball. Checking the musicians, apparently the quartet who was to be playing was called the Luminous Quartet, even though the quartet had obviously lost a member. Skimming through the background, he noticed that the violinist was an old friend of his back in his private lessons. Optimistic about who he was going to play among, his eyes stopped at a profile image on the next page. On the page following his old acquaintance, was the image of a mare he had met not so long ago, and had the great honor of finding our first hoof, how hard she punches. Haunted by the not so distant memory, he looked in horror at the image of Ocatvia Philharmonica looking right at him.