• Published 20th Jun 2014
  • 5,845 Views, 226 Comments

First Impressions - Terrasora



Octavia and Vinyl, childhood friends, begin their years of study in Canterlot Conservatory.

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Thoughts in Canterlot Conservatory

Professor Arpeggio stood in front of his class, a steaming mug floating in the air beside him and a slight frown on his lips. His eyes roamed over the students, silently watching them and, it seemed to some students, judging what he saw.

It was unnerving to say the least and the lively chatter that had filled the room just a few moments before slowly died away.

“Hey, Tavi,” whispered Vinyl, who had taken the seat directly to Octavia’s left.

Octavia ignored her, opting instead to dig through her saddlebag.

“Taaaavi.”

Pencil, notepad. Seat is slightly uncomfortable, but that’s fi

“Taaaaaaaaavi.”

I wonder if I should have brought more pencils. Or paper. Is one notepad eno

“Tavi, are you ignoring me?”

Harpo, seated on the other side of Octavia, snickered lightly.

Octavia closed her eyes, drawing in a deep breath. I was certainly trying. “Class is starting, Vinyl.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I need to talk to you right now.”

“What is it?”

“Can I borrow a pencil? You’ve got like five of them.”

Octavia mentally rolled her eyes, but held out one of the pencils. Vinyl took the pencil, smiling broadly.

“Thanks, Tavi.”

Octavia nodded, taking up her own pencil. She looked towards the front of the class, briefly locking eyes with a decidedly unamused Professor Arpeggio. Octavia looked away, embarrassment quickly flooding into her cheeks.

A few beats of silence. Arpeggio took a sip of whatever drink sat in his mug.

“Good afternoon,” Professor Arpeggio greeted. He did not wait for a response before continuing. “You are in this class because you bear some rudimentary knowledge of music and wish to further that knowledge. I am here because my office is nearby and the coffee is complimentary.” He took another sip of his drink.

The students shared nervous glances. A few of them even dared a chuckle.

Arpeggio remained entirely impassive, putting down the mug and taking up a piece of chalk in its place. The chalk wrote out a few words on the chalkboard as the professor spoke. “We will begin with a brief reminder of what you should have learned in your previous class. Then we will move on to the actual course material.”

“Tavi,” whispered Vinyl.

Octavia groaned inwardly. “What is it, Vinyl?”

“Can I borrow some paper?”

Somehow, this doesn’t surprise me. Octavia flipped through her notepad, tearing away a few sheets of paper and passing them to Vinyl.

“Thank, Tavi.”

“—Which, of course, brings us to time signatures which, you will remember, have two components to them. A top number which determines the number of beats per measure and a bottom number which tells which note counts as a singular beat. The time signature has the added effect of—”

“Tavi,” whispered Vinyl.

Octavia threw a glare to her left. “What is it now, Vinyl?”

“You look really pretty today.” A pause. “I mean, not that you don’t look really pretty everyday, because you do, but… you know. Pretty.” Vinyl grinned sheepishly.

“She has a way with words, doesn’t she?” whispered Harpo.

Octavia reddened slightly, turning back to her notes. “Shut up,” she muttered.

“Oh, alright,” said Vinyl softly. “Sorry.”

“Not you, Vinyl,” Octavia added hurriedly. “Harpo needs to shut up.”

“Octavia doesn’t want you to shut up, Vinyl. I think she liked the compliment.”

Vinyl grinned brightly at this revelation.

“—And if a certain trio of first years could cease their whispering, I could actually continue the lesson.”

Harpo, Octavia, and Vinyl snapped to attention, their faces reaching varying shades of red as the rest of the room fell deathly quiet.

Arpeggio drank from his mug, gaze pointedly fixed on the trio. “Now, by all accounts, the whisperings of three students amid a class of some hundred-odd scholars would not be much of a bother to most professors. I am not most professors; I have exceedingly keen ears and an even keener pride, both of which are easily bruised. Now, with your permission, first-years?”

Neither Octavia nor Harpo nor Vinyl offered a response. Professor Arpeggio, unperturbed by this, turned back to his chalkboard.

***

“He’s kind of an asshole, isn’t he?” Vinyl shifted her weight, moving her saddlebags to a more comfortable position.

“Define ‘kind of’,” snarked Harpo.

Octavia scowled slightly. “I think Professor Arpeggio had every right to respond as he did. I would have done much the same.”

“Really?” asked Vinyl.

“Of course.”

Vinyl thought for a moment. “I don’t think you would, Tavi. You’re too nice.”

Harpo snorted.

Octavia threw a pointed glare at the stallion. “What are you laughing at?”

“Nothing! Absolutely nothing.”

“It doesn’t seem like nothing.”

Harpo waved a dismissive hoof. “It’s nothing. In any case, I’ve got a class to get to.” He smiled, stepping away from the mares. “Vinyl, it was very nice to meet you. And I’ll see you later, Tavi.”

“Just leave already,” replied Octavia testily.

Harpo grinned, chuckling as he walked down the hallway.

“What was that about?” asked Vinyl.

Octavia let out a huff, scowling towards the stallion’s retreating figure. “Harpo enjoys getting under my skin.”

“It looks like he’s pretty good at it.”

“He’s had a lot of practice.” Octavia turned away.

The two walked in silence for a time, maneuvering among the crowd of students and the tourist groups that frequented Canterlot Conservatory.

“How much practice?” asked Vinyl suddenly.

“Pardon?”

“How long have you known Harpo?”

Octavia thought for a moment. “A few years, now. I met him in my first year of secondary school.”

“So you’ve been friends for, like, four years?”

A slight note of hesitation. “Yes. Yes, four years.”

Vinyl knit her brow slightly, chewing her inner lip thoughtfully. “Were you two ever… together?”

Octavia blinked. “Together?”

“Yeah. Like... wink wink nudge nudge?”

A pause. Octavia raised a questioning brow.



“What? NO!” Octavia grimaced. “Dear Celestia, no. Certainly not with Harpo, of all ponies.”

“What about somepony that wasn’t Harpo?”

Octavia frowned slightly. “I don’t feel particularly inclined to answer that.”

“I mean, it doesn’t really matter!” Vinyl added quickly. “But… have you?”

“Vinyl Scratch, that is a rather personal question and I don’t want to answer it.”

“Tavi, we’ve known each other since we were kids!”

“It is still a personal question and I still don’t want to answer!” Octavia felt the heat of anger rising in her chest. “How would you feel if I suddenly asked you about your love life?”

A pause. Vinyl gazed expectantly at Octavia.

“What?” asked Octavia.

“Aren’t you gonna ask me something about it?”

Octavia put a hoof to her forehead. “Celestia’s mane,” she cursed. “Of course I’m not going to ask you that!”

“Do you want to hear about it anyway?”

“No, Vinyl, I don’t. I couldn’t care less about it.” The words were out before Octavia could stop them.

Vinyl’s steps faltered slightly, her mouth curling downwards. Her purple shades covered her eyes. “Oh. Okay.”

Octavia felt a pressure in her chest. “I didn’t mean that, Vinyl. That was very rude of me.”

Vinyl waved a dismissive hoof. “Nah, that’s alright. It’s alright.”

There was silence for a time. Octavia and Vinyl walked on, crossing into another building. They paused at a intersecting hallway path.

“My class is this way,” said Vinyl, gesturing down a hallway. “I’ll see you later, yeah?”

“Yes. I’ll, uh, see you later, Vinyl.”

Octavia turned awkwardly, striding down one hall as Vinyl took the other.

Shit, she thought.

***

Long Play sat in his home, thoughtfully chewing on an apple. His record player, a venerable, well-worn machine, sat in a corner, filling the room with a quiet, almost mournful tune. The song was rhythmic and played on the lowest possible volume, providing an unobtrusive background for Long Play’s thoughts.

There were two options before him. Yes or No.

If he said yes, then Harmonia would begin pulling her strings, organize everypony she needed, and Long Play would be seated before a panel of Conservatory administrators.

And then what?

They would ask questions, and keep asking questions until they’d formed their own picture of Long Play. And Long Play would be a teacher. A professor, even. A professor who’d barely scraped his way through high school and never even bothered sending off an application to an institute of higher learning. A professor only a handful of years older than his students who’d pieced together everything he knew from a few second-hand textbooks. A professor at Canterlot Conservatory, the oldest and most well-respected Conservatory in all of Equestria, rivalled only by the best schools in the Griffon Kingdom. And the Griffon Kingdom had invented more than half of the instruments in the entire world! Long Play was supposed to teach there?!

Harmonia was insane.

Second option, then.

If he said no, nothing would happen. Everything would stay exactly the same.

Long Play took a bit from his apple.

And then what?

Well, Long Play would fade away. He still had a year or two left, and then… poof. Out of the public conscious. Irrelevant. He’d seen it in his last tour; the crowd was thinner, if no less energetic than before. And they’d heard it all before. Long Play had worked for over a decade, churning out track after track at a regular pace, working his creative drive to the utmost, but he was getting tired. Every song was more difficult to complete than the one before it, and Long Play had to dig a little deeper each time to find the flash of inspiration that used to come so easily.

What happened when the inspiration disappeared entirely?

On the other hoof, what if the inspiration never disappeared? Teaching is a very busy profession; it’d be nearly impossible for him to produce the way he was if he were teaching at the Conservatory!

Wouldn’t it?

Long Play sighed, biting into what little remained of his apple. “I’m just going to talk myself into circles. One last question, then I have to put it to rest for a while.”

“What do I want to do?”

A pause.

Shit, he thought.

Author's Note:

Hi there. It's been a while. It's been long enough that I feel pretty bad that this chapter is the shortest one yet by quite a bit, but there's a reason for that.
Up until now I've been aiming for a chapter word count between 2000-3000, which I think has lead to quite a bit of pointlessly stretching out scenes, which leads to a longer wait time in between chapters. From now on, I will be disregarding word count and focusing on the flow of the chapter itself. Hopefully, it'll work out for the best.

All the best,
Terra