The Spice of Life

by Alun Aleriksson

Open Arms

Chapter 12 - Open Arms

There was no Royal Box, no distinct separation between the seats reserved for the Princesses and the rest of the spacious balcony. Celestia had nearly balked at the arrangement, certain that her proximity to other ponies would detract from the performance on stage; Luna had bodily restrained her to her chair and raised a hoof to her mouth to indicate that she should be silent.

As it turned out, she needn’t have worried: all attention was on the stage, as if it were the only thing in the world that mattered. Celestia noticed that none of her subjects had made a move to acknowledge her entrance, so focused were they on the impending performance. ‘They’re more interested in the cultural scene than the social one,’ she realized, and the implications stunned her. Just what had her sister been planning?

The heavy midnight blue curtains drew back to reveal an Earth Pony mare Celestia was familiar with, if only in passing. She remembered that face from several occasions, most of them formal in nature; Symphony recitals, A Gala or two, and the like. Was this the aspiring musical mind Luna had wanted her to see?

Even stranger were her two companions: an aging pegasus holding a trumpet sideways and what appeared to be a white changeling with purple eyes sitting at a baby grand piano, of all things. Celestia couldn’t remember the last time she had seen a piano that small be used for a musical performance. She reminded herself that she had promised her sister to keep an open mind.

-XXX-

Octavia blocked out the dull but increasing roar of the audience just beyond the curtain and did her best to concentrate. She mentally reviewed the pieces her trio was to play, and her part in them. This concert would be much longer than the dinner at which they had performed, being a full-length performance, so there was about twice as much material to memorize.

Her nerves were getting to her even more than usual tonight, and for good reason; as per her usual tactic, Princess Luna had decided to spring a crucial bit of news on her mere hours before the performance: not one, but both Royal Sisters would be in attendance this evening, and only half of them were openly supportive of what Octavia had spent so long trying to accomplish.

Performing for Princess Celestia was not a new concept for a former member of the Symphony, of course, but in her current capacity...
Octavia shook her head. Doubting herself at this point would be foolhardy and wasteful. She had to put her all into this performance, and it would do nopony any good to second guess a song in the middle of playing it.

The heavy blue curtains began their rattling journey into the wings, and the musicians were faced with the familiar sight of a row of dimly lit visages and a sea of inky blackness. Somewhere out in the void, close to two thousand ponies sat waiting to judge them.
Taking one last deep breath and gulping down the rest of her worries, Octavia set her hooves and placed her bow across the strings of her instrument.

-XXX-

As the raucous applause died down and the curtain reappeared, Octavia sagged, using her faithful cello for support. She could only recall one other performance that had drained her as this one had: her first one with the Orchestra. Although, she supposed it made sense, in a way. This concert represented her rebirth, so to speak. A brand new style, a brand new age of music. Along with a brand new set of worries. Those would have to wait.

Her companions did not seem to share her fatigue; Syncopation was staring at her with a confident smile, while Vinyl was bouncing like a foal excited for Hearth’s Warming on her bench. Octavia to had assume her eyes were wide and excited.
Carefully balancing her instrument on her back, the cellist exited stage right, where her case was waiting and she could review her performance.

‘The transition to the main theme of “Majesta Noctus” was a bit sloppy,’ her perfectionist mind told her as she settled her cello into its velvety bed. ‘And listening to what Syncopation did there, adding one or two bars wouldn’t hurt. I wonder...’

Her ruminations were rudely interrupted by an untimely side tackle and a series of fuzzy, moist smacks on her cheek.

Octavia instinctively went rigid, thankfully shielding her body from the stranglehold in which she suddenly found herself. The wet smacks continued, halted only by Syncopation's voice: "Uh, Vinyl, I think you've sufficiently broken her,"

The white furry pressure that replaced the smacks was only somewhat of an improvement. "Vinyl," Octavia grunted tersely, her legs still locked. "Did you just kiss me?"

"I couldn't help it, Tavi! I had to kiss something, and Sync smells weird!"

"I've been told it's the shampoo I use," the stallion in question rolled his eyes.

"Is this a bad time? We can come back when you are done celebrating." Octavia had to look upside-down to see the Princess of the Night smiling at her, with Celestia at her shoulder.

"Apologies, Princesses, if you'll excuse the lack of a proper bow. I appear to be... indisposed." It was difficult, Octavia decided, to be cultured with another pony on top of you. She nudged the offending party, hoping they'd take the hint, but as usual, Vinyl ignored any semblance of common decency.

"Apology accepted, Miss Melody, and may I commend you on an even more stirring performance than your previous endeavor,"

"Previous?" Celestia muttered, tired of being out of the loop about her sister's activities. Her confusion was quickly overruled.

"You're not kidding, Princess! I haven't had that much fun since my pet monkey found out what cymbals were!"

The mere thought of such a spectacle was enough to turn Octavia's brain into a muddle of a migraine. "You have a pet monkey?"

Vinyl tilted her head at the mare she was still straddling. "Well, had. Apparently finding something in the woods and calling dibs doesn't mean you get to keep it," she sniffed theatrically. "They took my baby away from me."

"I'm so sorry for your loss,"

"Marty!" Vinyl wailed.

Octavia took the moment of weakness to shove her friend off of her, brushing dust from her coat as she returned to four hooves. She looked to Syncopation for some form of support, and found him biting his lip to keep from laughing.

"Don't look at me," he chuckled. "I just play trumpet."

"This is the future of Canterlot's cultural influence?" Celestia wondered aloud.

Luna beamed. "Is it not wonderful?"

-XXX-

Octavia inhaled deeply, and the scent of fresh mint and honey cradled her senses in a warm embrace of deliciousness. She had been denied the pleasure of quality tea for too long. Sipping demurely, so as not to waste even a drop of the heavenly concoction, Octavia allowed herself to truly relax.

Directly across from her, Princess Celestia took her own tea, exhibiting a slow, natural grace Octavia knew she could scarcely hope to match. The perks of being an alicorn, she supposed, though even Luna looked rushed and excitable next to her sister.

Vinyl had sniffed at her tea and decided to focus on the cakes and snacks on the tray, popping them into her mouth whole and hardly chewing before reaching for the next one. Syncopation, by contrast, observed proper tea etiquette almost robotically. His sips were small and polite, and he dabbed at his lips exactly twice after every one.

"I must say, I find myself confused," Celestia's calm voice broke the silence. "Why exactly have you elected to pursue such a vastly different style than what you were taught? What was wrong with the old way?"

"Nothing," Syncopation responded immediately, not taking his eyes off his teacup. The other four waited for him to elaborate, but he seemed to think that he had adequately answered the question.

"With respect, Princess," Octavia supplemented. "The music was never the problem. I for one actually prefer the works of the old masters, no offense to my current companions, of course."

"So why not play those pieces?"

"I did. I was asked to leave the Symphony shortly thereafter."

The conversation lapsed into silence, like the stillness of an open field before a thunderstorm. Octavia reflected that perhaps she could had worded that less harshly, but there was nothing for it now.

"That can't be right; you've always played your instrument so well."

"I thank you, Princess, but that's just the problem: playing the instrument instead of the music."

"I don't understand,"

"Let's put it this way, your Highness," Syncopation interjected, and Octavia was glad that he did. He was even more qualified than she was to discuss the topic. "Did you enjoy tonight's performance?"

"Of course,"

"More than the latest Symphony appearance at Carneighgie?"

"I... believe so, yes,"

"Can you tell me why?"

Celestia set down her teacup and thought long and hard about the differences between the performances she remembered. The classical numbers had been as enjoyable as ever, but what made this backwater band so special? Not their instruments, for sure. Nor was it their technique, tone, tempo or any other musical device she could come up with.

"The style was different," she finally said.

"Alright, how was it different?"

"The notes... bounced. Like they were afraid to spend too much time in one place."

"Even on the slow songs?"

The air grew warmer as the Sun Princess became increasingly frustrated with herself trying to pinpoint what exactly each performance had done for her. Carneighgie Hall was the pinnacle of high class, the bar above which no musician could rise. That was just fact. What had these three done to contest this?

“Princess,” Syncopation interrupted calmly. “What do you feel when you go to watch the Symphony or Orchestra play?”

That was an easier conundrum to solve. “Stability. Reassurance. Contentment. Peace,”

“And what do you see while you’re there?”

The Princess cracked a small smile. “Ponies trying to get ahead in life,”

Syncopation nodded, his own sad smile matching Celestia’s. “Same questions, but for here.”

“I felt…” Celestia recalled the pieces she had heard, performed with just three simple instruments that should not have been able to hold a candle to the majesty of the Royal Orchestra, but had somehow surpassed it. “Joy, sadness, freedom… I even felt like I was flying once.”

“And you saw?”

“I saw a gorgeous sunset give way to beautiful night. I saw twinkling lights of fireflies and happy couples stargazing. I… call me crazy, but I saw a pony fighting ninjas in space.”

“Tha’ wus mun! Uh ‘ro tha’!”

Octavia’s voice was the bite of a viper: “Vinyl Scratch you swallow your food this instant! That is not how you behave at tea time!”

Syncopation’s only reaction to Vinyl’s outburst was to close his eyes and smirk. “So, Princess, which one would you prefer?”

Celestia bowed her head in concession. “I see your point. But how do you paint such vivid imagery?”

“Trade secret, I’m afraid.”

“Now I wish the Royal Symphony had copies of that music. Coda told me you denied him this?”

Octavia answered this time. “Yes, Princess. Though not out of any kind of spite. Even if the Symphony had an arrangement, you wouldn’t get the same effect, not from their views.”

“What are you saying? They’re just notes, aren’t they?”

Syncopation leaned forward, something close to anger glittering in his eye.“Princess, I want to make this very clear to you. The notes don’t make the music. Neither do instruments. The Symphony and Orchestra have everything they need to succeed except for a creative spark. If you let him, Coda can take the pieces you’ve heard the past year and give them feeling and meaning. He can make you see what the composers saw when they wrote them down. You just have to loosen his noose a bit.”

“But I couldn’t do that! The system works-”

Luna interrupted sharply, “Tia. I have brought you three ponies willing to free your city from itself, but you have to take steps in the right direction. This is the first one.”

“My ponies…”

“Will adjust. In fact, I’ll bet that within weeks, Carneighgie Hall will produce more revenue than you’ve ever seen. Ponies will be enjoying themselves again. You’ll be enjoying yourself again. You don’t have to do this alone, but we need your support.”

Celestia looked at her subjects before her. Even though she could only see four eyes, she could sense the determination in all six. They reminded her of a ragtag bunch of farmers who had wanted to strike out on their own with the promise of new horizons to be conquered. Her stubbornness had no choice but to concede defeat.

“Very well. You shall have it.”