You've Been Acting Strange These Last Few Days

by sethbramwell

Part 4: The Dilatory Miss Melody

Part Four: The Dilatory Miss Melody

All I want is to talk. Octavia was moving weightlessly through a strange, shapeless void. In the distance she could see Vinyl, her back turned to her. “Vinyl!” she called out. The figure stood motionless as Octavia flailed her limbs frantically. It was like trying to swim through gelatin. With all the effort she could muster, she finally reached the off-white shape of her friend and placed a hoof on her shoulder. “Vinyl?” She walked to face her friend and saw that there was nothing there; no facial features, ears, no sunglasses, nothing. Octavia drew back in fear as Vinyl’s – No, no, not her normal voice, but an angry and distorted version of it boomed at her from nowhere. I’M EXHAUSTED! GET OFF MY BACK! GET THE TARTARUS OUT! The words repeated as Octavia collapsed, covering her ears until the voice was drowned out by a loud ringing sound.

Octavia’s eyes opened with a start and a gasp. The sun shone through her window, and it took her a moment to focus and realize the ringing had not just been in her head. Her phone buzzed on the floor where she had dropped it before collapsing last night. It stopped ringing just before she reached it, and the phone notified her of the missed call from… Pezzo? Why was Pezzo calling her? She pressed the button to call her back as she laid back on her bed, and the phone rang just once before Pezzo answered. “Pezzo? I’m sorry I missed your -“

Pezzo interrupted her, speaking in a hurried, hushed tone. “Octavia, where are you??? Ponyakov is steaming!”

Octavia sat up in confusion. “What? What do you mean-“ It was then that her eyes settled on the clock. 11:07??? Oh, Celestia!

Pezzo continued , obviously hiding that she was on the phone as Octavia heard the furious accented voice of Ponyakov ranting in the background. “You know we had a 10:45 rehearsal call to start by 11, and he wanted to start on the dot.” The second chair cellist said with worry. “Are you all right? You’re never late like this…”

Octavia was already out of bed, hurriedly trying to brush her mane while she spoke to Pezzo on the speakerphone. “I know, Pezzo, I know. I overslept-“

“MISS PIZZICATO!” Ponyakov’s voice screamed from the background.

“Road apples!” Pezzo muttered. “Just hurry, Octi. And have a good excuse!” The phone clicked and Pezzo’s voice was gone along with all the background noise.

How could I forget to set the alarm… How could I sleep this late… The thoughts filled Octavia’s mind as she hurriedly straightened one of her trademark bowties and collars -a harder task with hooves than most ponies realized- and ran from her room, not bothering to make her bed as she normally would have. She paused for a moment at the hallway opening to the living room where her cello case still sat from the night before, albeit now with Vinyl’s saddlebags loaded with records on top of it. From the other end of the hall, she could hear Vinyl snoring loudly and knew better than to wake her to come move the bags. With a sigh, she hurried to the bags and did her best to lift them, suddenly very envious of Vinyl’s unicorn magic. Did she have any real clue how heavy two bags of records were? She unsteadily moved the bags from her case and they settled on the floor, slouching onto their sides. In her hurry, Octavia very nearly missed the odd baggie that tumbled out with three small round capsules. What the- she thought as she picked them up quizzically. Her phone buzzed and set the baggie down on her case as she looked to the text message from Pezzo that simply read “HURRY. HE’S GONE OUTSIDE TO COOL OFF.”

Octavia’s eyes darted from the phone to her case with the strange baggie on top. After a quick glance to the hallway, she opened her cello case and dropped the bag inside alongside her cello before hurriedly galloping out the door.

It’ll take nearly 40 minutes, maybe 30 if I run all the way- she thought when her eyes caught sight of a blue Pegasus flapping speedily around the clouds. She thought she remembered seeing this character somewhere around town, though the name escaped her at the moment. “Er- excuse me?” she called out. The Pegasus didn’t seem to notice her as she zipped around, leaving a slight rainbow trail behind her. “Excuse me!” She tried again, louder this time. The Pegasus came to a stop and looked down at the earth pony before settling on the ground in front of her, her rainbow-colored mane settling from the rush.

“Yeah? Do I know you?” Rainbow Dash asked in a curious tone.

“Er- well, no-“ Octavia began uncertainly. “I saw you flying around up there, and I’m rather late for an important appointment. I- I wonder if you-“

The blue Pegasus interrupted her with a snort. “What, fly you there? With that?” She motioned to the large cello case.

“Oh, never mind…” Octavia began, feeling foolish as she shouldered her case and resumed her gallop. She made it perhaps ten feet before she suddenly tripped and fell into an abnormally low cloud.

“Sounds fun.” The Pegasus grinned. “Where to?”

“The- the Royal Equestrian Opera House-“ Octavia began, unnerved by the Pegasus’ brashness.

“Hah! Just hold on!” Rainbow Dash grinned as she blasted into the sky, leaving a rainbow trail behind her that passed under the cloud as Octavia let out a shriek and held on for dear life to the cloud and her cello. The 30-40 minute journey was over in 4 minutes as the Pegasus dropped from the skies, towing the cloud behind her. “Your stop!” she laughed playfully as Octavia shakily stepped from the cloud, her nerves raw and her mane windswept in twenty different directions all at once.

“Th- th- th- thank-“ Octavia stammered, her eyes wide and her voice shaking.

“No prob!” The Pegasus replied casually as she kicked the cloud apart. “Just don’t tell anyone. Not exactly legal, bringing clouds this low, ya know?”

Octavia nodded, slack jawed as she hugged her cello. She could swear she felt her brain rattle inside her skull. Etiquette demanded she answer this young lady properly, but her voice and her brain were still disconnected. “Uh-huh…” was all she could manage to get out.

“See ya!” The Pegasus shouted as she bucked her legs and blasted off to points unknown in the skies above.

“Ahhhh, the dilatory Miss Melody!” Ponyakov’s voice angrily bellowed from behind as the guest conductor stepped around the corner. Octavia’s brain finally reconnected with her voice as she turned to face the colt.

“Hello, Mr. Ponyakov.” She began softly. “I’m so very sorry I am late-“

Ponyakov held up his left hoof with a scowl. “Miss Melody, I do not know what my predecessors at this amateur hour band tolerated from you, but I will not stand for it!”

Amateur hour band??? The words stung in Octavia’s soul as she merely replied softly, “Yes, sir. Of course.”

“Inside. Now. I will give you exactly two minutes to make use of the facilities to compose yourself.” The conductor said with a very dangerous tone. For the second time, Octavia walked away feeling like a guilty filly from the esteemed conductor. She entered the mare’s room and looked to the mirror with dread. Her mouth fell open and her face flushed as she saw the disheveled tangle that had been her styled mane and the drooping mess that had been her immaculate bowtie. Never. Flying. Again. She fumed as she did her best to make herself presentable and hurried from the lobby to the main theater.

Ponyakov was holding court on the stage, the orchestra all assembled in their spots and looking to Octavia with a mix of worry and annoyance. She silently took her place as the conductor spoke. “I trust even this simple group understands the importance of redundancy.” The musicians looked to him with confusion. Ponyakov rubbed his temple. “Alternates! Backups! Understudies!” he spat with annoyance. The musicians nodded, a bit too intimidated for words. “What a relief.” He said sarcastically. “Assuming your former conductors had any intelligence at all, that would mean each second chair musician is able to take the place of the first chair if they are unable to perform. Please tell me I am correct in that assumption.”

The musicians grimaced as Octavia’s heart sank. He can’t mean- Next to her, Pezzo looked to her friend with apologetic eyes before raising her hoof and speaking softly. “That is correct, Mr. Ponyakov.”

Ponyakov’s eyes settled on the pink earth pony. “Miss Pizzicato, as second chair cellist, may I assume you have familiarized yourself with the first chair solos?”

Octavia looked to Pezzo with pleading eyes as her friend swallowed hard, wishing she was anywhere else at the moment. Of course Pezzo was familiar with the solos and had practiced them, but how could she-

“Yes or no, Miss Pizzicato?” Ponyakov asked impatiently.

“Yes-“ Pezzo’s voice caught for a second before continuing, “Yes, sir, I am familiar with them, but Octavia is far more skilled than-“

“I am not concerned with your appraisal of Miss Melody.” Ponyakov said dismissively. “I know you are skilled with the cello, and that you are at least punctual. Kindly exchange places with her.”

Octavia looked from Pezzo to Ponyakov with shock. “Mr. Ponyakov, I’m very sorry I was late; it won’t happen again-“ She tried.

“When you are unprofessional, you will pay the price, Miss Melody. Now please exchange places with Miss Pizzicato or take your leave.” Ponyakov stated in a strict, commanding tone.

Octavia realized she had no choice, and sadly stepped aside to allow Pezzo into the first chair position. “I am so sorry…” Pezzo whispered as she took her best friend’s place and Octavia resignedly stepped into the second chair position, a single tear falling down her cheek as she struggled to keep from sobbing. The tapping of the baton focused her attention as Ponyakov finally began the delayed rehearsal he had been waiting for.

Several hours and run-throughs of the concert later, Ponyakov finally placed the baton in his bag and addressed the assemblage of tired musicians. “Very well, fillies and gentlecolts. We will resume in two days. I urge you- ALL OF YOU- to keep rehearsing on your own tomorrow even though we will not meet as a whole. Just to clarify-“ Ponyakov’s glare settled on Octavia in particular now. “-we will meet at 10:45 as we did today. We will begin promptly at 11:00. Punctuality is a virtue, and any delays will not be endured. This is everypony’s unequivocal first and last warning. Good day.” As always, Ponyakov immediately turned smartly on his hooves and exited the theater with his head held high. Just as they had done since he arrived, every musician barely dared to breathe until the door closed behind him.

As the other musicians began to case their instruments and leave, Octavia merely laid her cello down on the stage (Something she would never normally dream of) and sank to the floor, sitting on her flank and staring at the wood of the stage. Pezzo uncomfortably cased her cello and sat next to her friend, searching for the right words that refused to come. “It’s not your fault, Pezzo.” Octavia said softly, as if reading her friend’s thoughts.

“Octavia, I-“ Pezzo began.

“I was the one who was late. Ponyakov was right, it was unprofessional.”

“Everypony makes mistakes.” Pezzo countered, feeling incredibly cliché. “Look, I don’t know the solos like you do- I’m just the backup, for Celestia’s sake. Ponyakov will realize that. You’ll get your spot back. Maybe if I just play them badly enough-“

Octavia’s head snapped to glare at her friend. “Don’t you dare.” She replied angrily. “Intentionally underperforming is far more unprofessional than being late, and a dishonor to the composers before us.”

Pezzo sighed. How in Equestria could anypony ever regard Octavia as unprofessional? “Octi, stop putting honor before reason! You’ve earned first chair. I’ll make Ponyakov see that, one way or another, or I’ll kick his stuck-up plot all the way back to Marescow!” The grey mare allowed herself the tiniest of smiles at that thought. “Besides…” Pezzo continued teasingly, “who’s being unprofessional now, leaving her cello on the ground to get scratched up?” Octavia looked sheepishly at the beloved instrument next to her. “Here, let me lend a hoof” Pezzo said with a smile as she opened Octavia’s case and picked up the heavy instrument. As she placed the cello inside, Pezzo’s eyes fell on the baggie Octavia had placed inside that morning and had forgotten completely. The pink mare picked it out of the case with worry before turning to Octavia, who was just rising from the floor. “Octavia…” Pezzo began in a concerned whisper, “What is this?”