Octavia's Reprise

by Venates

Chapter Three

The papers strewn across Octavia’s bedroom floor had attained something of an order with periodicals now deemed useless in a tidy stack in the corner, and those considered otherwise turned to pages with significant photos facing the mare who purchased them. Octavia gazed across each picture, and although she still found no other traces of her childhood friend on any of the pages in front of her, quite a few featured a different recognizable pony mingling with the bride, groom, bridesmaids, and other guests.

Octavia determined that the white unicorn with gorgeous purple hair had in fact designed the bride’s dress, stood with the other friends of the bride at the altar, and, yes, did have a line or two in the finest fashion establishments in Canterlot. One picture even showed her standing beside none other than Fancy Pants, one of Canterlot’s most prime ponies worth knowing, and a frequent hirer of Octavia's for his various social gatherings. Octavia found nothing to help her directly achieve what she felt she needed to do, but she at least had a start.

It wasn’t hard contacting Hoity Toity; not for Octavia, anyway. Having performed at a few of his formal conventions and even modeling a hooffull of lavender pieces that her eyes complemented perfectly did rather put her in good standings with the most prominent of ponies. After a quick visit to his office in uptown Canterlot and no small amount of flatteries, Toity gladly wrote down the telephone number of Ponyville’s fashionista for Octavia’s use.

Octavia glanced back and forth between the note written with perfect quillmareship in her hoof and a few of the pictures that littered the carpet in front of her. A small lump formed in her chest; she didn’t know why calling somepony she hadn’t spoken to in years was making her so uneasy. After what felt like an hour (possibly two), she picked the receiver up off the nightstand next to her bed and dialed back each number on Hoity Toity’s note, hesitating a few moments before entering the last digit. As a ringing sound echoed curtly from one end of the receiver, Octavia’s heartbeat quickened its pace. A part of her hoped that the jingling would last a few minutes and give her proper justification to hang up and accept that no one would answer.

*Click*

“Thank you for calling the Carousel Boutique, where every garment is chic, unique, and magnifique. If you’re calling to have an order—”

Octavia sighed; the prepared tone of the voice on the other line told her that she would be leaving a message soon, though she hadn’t prepared herself with any thoughts of what to say. Perhaps she would just hang up and try again at a different hour.

“I’m sorry, dear, is something the matter? You sound somewhat exasperated, if I may…”

Octavia’s heart threatened mutiny in her chest. “I’m… I’m sorry. For a moment I thought I hit voicemail.”

“Oh, perish the thought, darling,” the voice assured. “I apologize if my frequent catchphrases and dealings over the phone have become rather… rehearsed. Rest assured, I am no machine, and am fully ready to take on any orders you require!”

“Rarity…” Octavia uttered, her lips getting used to a name they were once much more familiar with. “It’s… It’s Octavia.”

The line was silent for a moment. Octavia almost wondered if her voice had not been loud enough to carry to the other end. That, or perhaps the mare back in Ponyville simply did not want to respond to somepony who—

“DAAARLING!”

The reintroduction of the designer’s voice gave Octavia such a start that she fumbled with the receiver for a moment before replacing it next to her head.

“How are you, dearie?" the voice continued. "Oh, I haven’t heard from you in ages! Last I heard you were starting a promising career on the orchestral scene in Canterlot; is that true?”

“Yes, yes it’s true,” Octavia admitted, her heart lowing back to its normal pace again; listening to a voice from her past that was clearly happy to hear from her calmed her a great deal.

“Oh, fabulous! We all knew you had talent, but my, my, good for you for proving it to the rest of Equestria!”

Octavia couldn’t help but chuckle a small bit at the adulation. Her stomach panged ever so slightly as she did so, as though a muscle long since worked was being stretched. “Yes, well, I have certainly been keeping busy. The aristocrats here do so enjoy their quartets.”

“Oh, that’s so good to hear, darling. Have you played much in the grander theatres? I want to know EVERYTHING.”

Rarity’s eagerness for catching up continued to lighten Octavia’s mood, changing the conversation from bearable to rather pleasant. “I imagine I’ve played in all of them by this point,” Octavia said, “save for some of the shadier ones that have opened more recently in the lower districts. Why, just last year at the Grand Galloping Gala—”

“Oh, dear, you were at that debacle, were you?” This confused Octavia; she wouldn’t put it past Rarity to have read all about the fanciest of formal occasions in Equestria, especially if she had designed a dress or two for the event. Something in the way she inquired about it, however, told Octavia that she had some first hoof experience with the gala’s unfortunate final moments.

“Yes, of course,” Octavia confirmed. “It hasn’t been uncommon for me to attend in recent years. Last year I performed in the atrium with some peers from the orchestral community, and—”

“Oh dear. You must have had the misfortune of being one of Pinkie Pie’s victims, hm?”

The name stretched back and reached into Octavia’s memories, and focused on a picture her eyes had been glued to for a small number of hours. She suddenly realized why there was a sense of familiarity around the DJ's companion behind that sound table; that same pink mane intruded the corners of Octavia’s eyes once or twice as the animal attempted to "liven up" the music, and the final time she did so caused Octavia to stumble over her instrument and cause a few bits worth of damage to it. “Wait, you know that crazed mare?”

“Of course, darling,” Rarity admitted without a hint of remorse. “She’s only one of my dearest friends! I do admit that her… eccentric personality clashed horribly with the little soirée, but then again all of us were having some troubles with our ‘best night ever’…”

“So you were there!”

A small giggle came across the line. “Yes, dear, unfortunately. I had thought myself more prepared than any of my Ponyville friends for the event, but even I had trouble finding my stride, especially with that snoot of a prince…”

“You were the mare following Prince Blueblood that night? The one where the cake…?”

Rarity laughed at the thought. “Yes, with the cake. Ooh, I don’t think I’d ever been so enraged in all my life! Though now I’m able to look back and get quite the titter from the memory. Wait, did you see me in that state?”

Octavia was starting to regret always playing with her eyes closed; how many other moments when she could have seen somepony she used to know have slipped under her always in-the-air nose? “Oh… No… I heard about it more so afterwards. I left in quite the huff after that friend of yours toppled me from the stage.”

“Again, I do apologize for Pinkie Pie’s antics.” Octavia couldn't tell if the fashionista was picking up on her subtle cues that some wounds from the night were not yet healed. Rarity continued, “She means well, even if she doesn’t end well. At least you were able to step out of the commotion before Fluttershy unleashed that stampede of animals. Those little—”

“You know the mare who did that as well?!” Octavia could feel her temperature rising. Rarity’s laughter was now doing little to keep her mind in a happier state.

“As I said, darling, my friends and I all had a few difficulties as the night wore on,” the designer stated.

The cellist did her best to calm down and continue chatting with her nearly forgotten friend. “Were all these friends from Ponyville? It’s unusual to have so many guests from outside of Canterlot.”

“Believe me, dear, I know it. Initially only two of us were to attend, but Twilight pulled some strings and Princess Celestia saw to it that all six of us had our own ticket.”

“Princess Celestia? Twilight?” The names struck Octavia. The reasons why with Princess Celestia couldn’t be clearer, but the second was a bit more of a mystery. She knew that she just recently read it somewhere. “Was she — Twilight, that is — Was she at the wedding the other day?”

“Why, yes! Sister of the groom and all that. I’m just glad the night was able to end well, what with the changeling invasion and everything. My, trouble does seem to have a habit of following our little group, the more I think on it…”

Octavia’s mind was reeling; clearly things of great significance were more likely to happen in a town like Ponyville than she ever anticipated. Each sentence Rarity cheerfully put forth only raised more questions, leading Octavia to wonder just what kind of turbulent yet (though she hated to admit it) exciting life the mare now led. These thoughts were put to the side as Rarity’s mention of the creatures that assaulted the cellist just a day prior brought Octavia back around to the true purpose of her call.

“Listen, Rarity, about the wedding… There’s something I want to ask you.”

“Ah… Of course,” Rarity said with a hint or two of disappointment. “Well, the dresses for the wedding were all custom designed, though some of my better works can be found in Hoity Toity’s shops. But if you want me to spruce something up, I can—”

“No, Rarity, I’m not looking for a dress.”

“Oh?” The designer sounded a little downhearted at this as well, but a tone of curiosity was more present.

Octavia licked her lips before continuing. “Well, in the paper, I saw… I saw that Vinyl was there. Did you see her?”

A sigh responded. “Yes, dear, she was there. In fact, I was the one who asked her to come. We got reacquainted when she came down for a fashion show of mine (even if it did turn out to be a disaster), and after Fluttershy admitted that her birds would likely not be loud or energetic enough for a wedding reception I put in a special favor.”

“Oh… I see…” Octavia was having some difficulty stringing the words to more questions she wanted to ask together. “Did she… Did she mention me at all?”

“Mmm,” Rarity hummed sympathetically. “I asked whether or not the two of you had kept in touch, and she seemed rather… sore at the topic, I daresay. Did you girls have a bit of a falling out?”

“Yes,” Octavia admitted, “A few years ago. I haven’t heard from her in quite a while, but… I was hoping…” The cellist took a deep breath, allowing the few seconds required to do so to gather her thoughts and her strength. “I was hoping to ask if you had a number I could reach her at available.”

Rarity let silence rest for a moment before answering. “Of course, dear. Are you hoping to patch things up?”

“I… Yes.” Octavia wasn’t sure if her answer was honest, but felt that it was what she needed to say for Rarity’s assistance.

“Well, get a quill and paper handy.” The cellist motioned to do so before the sound of her name cut her off. “Octavia, if I may,” Rarity began, “A true friend is not always the easiest thing to come by. I’m lucky enough to have five, and the last two years I’ve spent every moment I can with them without regrets. Well, with the exception of one or two large deadlines looming in the background, but I digress.” Rarity took a short breath before continuing. “My point is that I really don’t know what I would do without them in my life. If this call is really about reconnecting to somepony you used to feel the same way about… Well, I can only be too happy to help.”

“Thank you, Rarity.” Octavia set the receiver face up on her nightstand, and a piece of paper next to it so she could write but still keep her head close enough to hear Rarity’s voice. She took a quill in her mouth.

“Just tap the receiver twice when you’re ready.”

Octavia did as she was instructed, and Rarity began reciting a series of numbers. Octavia scurried the quill across the page in front of her, caring little about quillmareship. When she finished, she removed the quill from her mouth, brought the phone receiver back up to the side of her face, and spoke the numbers back to Rarity, who confirmed their authenticity.

“Do you need anything else, Octavia?”

The cellist shook her head before remembering that Rarity needed a verbal reply. “No… I think that’s it for now,” Octavia said. “I do believe that you and I have a large amount of reacquainting to be done, but…”

“No, darling, really, I understand.” Rarity’s voice was reassuring. “I can tell this is very important to you. Although, in all honesty, you really should come home for a visit one of these days. I’m sure you’d be just as surprised at how much has changed as you would by how much has stayed the same.”

“I’m sure I would, Rarity. Thank you.”

“Oh, and Octavia?”

“Yes?”

“Best of luck, dear.”

- * -

Octavia didn’t immediately call the second number now lying in front of her. The thought of it was at least three times as daunting as calling somepony who wasn’t spitting fire the last time she saw her. The fact that Rarity mentioned that Vinyl was still upset about their last conversation didn’t help the small, hopeful part of Octavia that prayed maybe some water had gone under a bridge over the years. Luna had long since done her duty raising the moon before Octavia picked up the receiver and put a hoof to the rotary for the second time that day.

“...Am I really going to do this?”

Octavia’s hoof hovered over the dial for a few seconds before connecting with each number in the sequence as though it was being moved by a force other than her own. Fear shot through Octavia’s chest as a sense of betrayal from her own extremity overcame her.

It didn’t take long for somepony to answer at the other end.

“Yo, this is Pon-Three.” The voice was an odd mix between cheerfulness, confidence, and content.

“Hey, Vinyl, um… It’s Octavia.”

A dead silence greeted the cellist. She could only assume that no other Octavias called this number, meaning the name could only bring one set of feelings to the owner of the line.

“…Hey. What’s up?”

“Um… Just… Just calling to say ‘hi’…” Octavia made a mental note to start preparing things to say before dialing numbers in the future.

“Oh. Well, you just did. Sooo… good on ya.” The voice was laden with sarcasm.

“How, um… how have you been these last few years?” Octavia hoped there was still some way to salvage the quickly disintegrating conversation.

“Me? Things are cool, you know? I’ve gotten pretty big here in Manehattan. The clubs just can’t seem to get enough of me.” The DJ was bragging, clearly, but in a way that almost felt like a personal attack to Octavia.

“Oh, the clubs… That’s… good?”

“Yeah. It’s good. I even played at the royal wedding the other day. I bet no pony thought a common DJ would be playing for royalty.”

“Yes, I… I saw it in the paper.”

“Oh, I made it in the paper? Usually those Canterlot snobs don’t feel the need to mention the ‘music of the peons’.”

Octavia felt as though a knife had gone through her; yes, this was definitely a personal attack. She could tell the conversation was not going well at all, but at least Vinyl had not yet hung up on her. Or rather, one part of her felt that was something to be optimistic about.

“Yes… Well… Maybe now they can see how wrong they’ve been…?” There was no answer. Octavia continued, “I saw that Rarity was there too.”

“Yeah, she’s actually the one who hooked me up with the gig,” Vinyl said, proving that she was in fact still on the line. “She’s doing really well down in Ponyville, you know.”

“Yes, I… I spoke with her recently.”

“How recently? She said at the wedding that she hadn’t heard from you since you left that town.”

“Oh, um…” Octavia felt a small bead of sweat drip down her neck. “Maybe an hour or so ago?”

“Ah.” Another silence permeated the conversation. “Well, I hate to cut this short, Octy, but I need to let you go. I’ve got a new song that I’m working on, and I really want it done before tomorrow night.”

“Oh… You’re writing?”

“Yeah. I write. And I really should be working on that now. So, see ya later.”

“Good—” Octavia was cut off by a clicking sound, letting her know that she didn’t need to finish a farewell. She sighed and let the receiver drop to the floor. After a moment or two, she hopped off her bed to place it back on the hook before returning to her mattress and pulling the sheets up and almost over her head.

She felt empty inside, possibly more so than before their conversation started. Her bed sheets felt like lead against her chest, but she knew that removing them would not make the sensation disappear. She rolled onto her side and gazed out the window. She felt exhausted, but her mind refused to quiet itself long enough to allow her to get some rest. How could she have forgotten about her friend for so long? Octavia had another concert to prepare for in a few days’ time, but now the idea of performing felt… fleeting. The very notion of playing for and alongside ponies that knew her name but not her heart was now an unsatisfying lifestyle. What she really needed was a friend, but the closest pony she ever truly considered as such just made it clear how much she didn’t want to speak with her.

Maybe the ticket wasn’t speaking with her. Maybe—

Ticket.

Octavia pulled open a drawer on her nightstand and dug to the bottom of a number of papers before pulling out the one she was looking for. It was somewhat yellow on the edges; it was clear that it hadn’t seen the light of day in a number of years.

“I wonder if the train to Manehattan still leaves out of Princess’ Cross station at eight in the morning,” she pondered aloud.

Author's Note:

Author's Note can be found here.

Comments

[Venates]

3769948 Hope Chapter Three continues to impress! Your support so far has been great!

[Shadow_Wolf]

My support continues! Keep up the excellent work!

[FashionablyHospitable]

Oho! And now we're getting to a point in the fic we've been anticipating: the reunion.