My Language is Music

by SoloBrony

It's not a tragedy

The office Iqqel left me in had plenty of interesting things to examine; between the immaculate craftsmanship of the alcove itself, the ornate desk and office equipment, and the breathtaking view, it wasn't hard to keep myself occupied for a few minutes. Despite the grandeur of the sights, however, I found myself fixated on something far more mundane; a pair of violins, hanging from the wall. I could just barely make out a patched-up crack along the other surface of one, which appeared to have been mended with some sort of semi-transparent, green glue. The other one had a similar line of glue running around the perimeter of its handle. The idea of this beautiful instrument with a snapped-off handle sent a shudder through me.

It all raised many questions for me. I wondered what had happened to the instruments, why they were hanging in this office, and why Cecily was here. Had Cecily been kidnapped by changelings? Or perhaps 'Cecily' was simply some disguise for a changeling in Canterlot? But then why the secrecy?! Wouldn't they wish to bask in the love of their fans? None of the theories I came up with seemed to make sense of it all, but it was the office that bothered me the most; clearly it belonged to a musician or music fan of some sort, but it seemed to be at the very top of The Spire. Why such a prominent location? To me, it almost seemed like a place for a ruler, not a composer.

And no sooner had I considered that possibility than the sound of the office doors opening startled me. I saw Iqqel lead in none other than the Changeling Queen herself, Chrysalis; I hadn't seen her before, but I recognized her easily enough from both descriptions and images. Everything from her imposing height, slender frame, and flowing blue mane to her gnarled horn and blue-green thorax had been the subject of countless depictions, though none so much as her piercing emerald eyes.

Eyes which I suddenly noticed were not emerald at all, but rather a flat, light-grey color. The sudden appearance of the queen set me on edge, but my trepidation was short-lived; she stumbled on her way into the room, and only Iqqel's steadying hoof over her barrel kept her from falling over entirely. Together, they slowly made their way to a small couch on the side of the room, with Iqqel quietly murmuring what I supposed were instructions to her; when Iqqel gave the word, Chrysalis gingerly reached her hoof out, feeling for the couch, and then slowly clambered onto it. Throughout the entire exercise, Chrysalis' eyes had been directed up, at nothing in particular.

It embarrasses me to say so, but I stared at her through the whole spectacle. Her behavior left no real room for doubt in my mind; Chrysalis was, for whatever reason... blind. I was still processing that utterly bizarre fact when Chrysalis spoke up.

"Thank you, Iqqel. That will be all."

Iqqel seemed somewhat alarmed, but Chrysalis remained passive. After a moment's hesitation, Iqqel nodded, bowed, and began to retreat from the room, only for Chrysalis to call out to her just before she had crossed the threshold.

"For now. But I had better see you this evening."

Chrysalis winked roughly in Iqqel's direction. Iqqel's response taught me that changelings can, in fact, blush – in fact their entire front body seems to redden significantly in the process – and retreated from the room with a sound somewhere between a chuckle and a choke. I felt my own cheeks heat up, as though I'd been privvy to some particularly private joke, though I was hardly sure of Chrysalis' meaning; she simply had a tone that seemed like it could make anything seem like it had scandalous subtext. As the door to the office shut, I tried to hazard a guess as to proper protocol, and took a seat; it wasn't my first time meeting with individuals of high station, but I'd be lying if I said I had any idea what the proper etiquette in this situation was. To my surprise, Chrysalis' eyes seemed to vaguely track my movement, and she stared at me for a few long moments before addressing me.

"Miss Melody, correct?"

I nodded, and then I immediately mentally berated myself over how useless the gesture was.

"Yes, your, er, your majesty. Simply 'Octavia' is also fine."

I tried to smile reassuringly, before I realized how futile the effort was. I had no idea what her proper mode of address was; I wasn't sure 'highness' was appropriate for a subterranean culture. It was all very stressful for me, but Chrysalis just laughed, waving a hoof idly.

"Octavia. Please, don't worry about standing on ceremony here; you're hardly on official business, right? Didn't you come here to talk about music?"

She stretched out on the couch, and brought her forehooves up to cradle her head as she smiled at me. At least one of us was relaxed.

"That's right. I was told that I'd have a chance to meet with Cecily...?"

Chrysalis merely smirked at me. After a few moments, she laughed softly.

"And look at you, now in a meeting."

"You mean you...?"

Somehow, despite all of the questions, and all of the possibilities I had come up with for answering them, the idea that Chrysalis herself was Cecily had never occurred to me. I made a sort of 'come on' gesture at Chrysalis as my words tapered off, and then her blank expression reminded me that that was futile. I rapped my hoof against my forehead as I lamely added, "... are her? You're Cecily?"

"That's right. Feel free to call me by it; we're meeting as two musicians, after all. This is hardly the place to get distracted by trifles like royal titles."

At first, I took her comment for sarcasm, but her tone and expression were neutral. It slowly dawned on me that she was being serious. She wanted to have a serious discussion about music with me. And she was Cecily. Thus, that meant that Cecily Cambirvir wanted to have a serious discussion about music with me.

You'd be forgiven for thinking that the strange environment, the unexpected nature of my conversational partner, or any other number of circumstantial elements would lessen the impact of that realization. Quite the contrary, the way that this entire situation had crept up on me simply meant that the weight of it all pressed on gradually, slowly increasing the more I thought about what was going on.

Altogether, the result was that I stammered on a bit, and made several unsuccessful attempts at gestures and sentences to make sense of it all. I'd had, as Vinyl would surely have pointed out were she present, my mind blown. Chrysalis, for her part, simply looked around in confusion at the unintelligible sounds I was making.

"Octavia? Are you alright?"

"Yes! Yes, fine, thank you! I just, ah, need a bit of water. Would you like some?!"

I sprang from my seat, and poured myself a cup of water from a convenient pitcher on the desk. Chrysalis just shook her head. After relieving my nonexistent thirst, I retook my seat, noticing that Chrysalis' eyes tracked me in the process, though very poorly. Naturally, I was meeting with my greatest musical influence, and so my mind was consumed with questions that were entirely unrelated to music. I smirked at my own silliness, and decided to ask her the most prominent question on my mind.

"So, Chrysalis, I was—"

"Cecily. 'Queen Chrysalis' is my title – my name is Cecily."

I was taken aback by the energy of her response. There wasn't malice in it, but it almost seemed painful for her. I resolved not to make such a faux pas again.

"Cecily. I'm not sure to start, but... why all of the secrecy in publishing your work? And why did it suddenly stop?"

Chrysalis—No, Cecily, jerked her head back slightly, a confused frown and furrowed brow forming.

"What are you talking about?"

Now it was my turn to look perplexed.

"The way I've heard it, no one knew where any of your work came from. Some nobles just started requesting it to be played, and the Canterlot Conservatory found copies of the manuscripts in their archives. More manuscripts kept turning up, in the strangest places; I've even heard that the manuscript for your 'Dreams of the Sky' symphony showed up under the director's pillow the night before a nobleman asked for it to be played!"

Cecily just gaped at me as I spoke. At the mention of her symphony, I heard her gasp slightly. The confident, seductive persona had faded entirely; I didn't realize just how profoundly my words were affecting her until I'd finished with my short rant.

"Octavia, are you saying that my music is played in Equestria? They know me there?"

"Wha—of course! You're considered one of the most prominent – albeit mysterious – composers of the modern era! I played your solo arrangement in 'Journey – Homecoming' as my audition for the conservatory! My professors argue to this day about whether or not 'What's in a Family' is meant to be played with two pianos or three! I'd say you're... uhh..."

I tapered off my excited outburst when I realized that Cecily had started crying. She was smiling, and was looking downwards, shielding one of her eyes from view with a hoof. After a moment's, she sniffled and wiped at her eyes.

"I'm sorry, I just need a second."

"... You didn't know?"

Chrysalis shook her head, and sniffled again. I leaned back and contemplated the magnitude of that; famous across Equestria, considered a bold pioneer who could break from tradition without losing sight of its purpose... and totally ignorant of the fact. It had been a common thing to theorize that Cecily was perhaps a misanthrope, or some celebrity figure who didn't want to be known for music. Some ponies had even suggested that Celestia herself was secretly Cecily, and that this was something she did periodically in history.

As I watched the changeling in front of me alternate between laughing and weeping, I considered how the truth was, in a way, more simple than most of those rumors; while circumstances may have been complicated, the essence of it was that Cecily was unaware her work was even published. No scheme to hide her identity, no political intrigue. In a way, it was not dissimilar to our meeting; I had conjured many theories, and many concerns, over my trip here, but in the end it had just been a meeting of two musicians. I idly wondered if there was a way I could put the feeling I had at the part I'd played here into music as Cecily recovered and began to speak.

"Actually, 'What's in a Family?' isn't meant to be played with a piano at all."

"Ah! You pronounced it as a question! I kept telling ponies that the song's wandering nature is meant to represent a search for the idea of family, not a summary of the parts of a family! It's really the sombre bridge that gives it away."

Cecily laughed at that, her fangs shining brilliantly. It was less intimidating than I would have thought.

"Changelings here in the hive had the same debate! I was wondering if that was why you pronounced it that way!"

I had a good laugh at that with her, before I really considered the rest of what she had said.

"Wait. But if it's not meant to be played with a piano, what's supposed to handle the complex bridge?"

Cecily grinned mischievously, and I could tell I'd just said what she wanted to hear.

"Why don't I just show you?"

"But how are you... oh."

As I'd been speaking, Cecily's horn lit up, and ghost-like images of instruments flickered into existence all around us. I remembered to breathe about halfway through the ensuing performance.

Comments

[Nyronus]

Oh god.

It's like two trains. On the same track. Heading in opposite directions. Except at the last minute they jump the tracks.

And then they start flash stepping.

And summoning shadow clones.

And the clone trains are crashing, and going up in fireballs and others are going spinning off into space like giant metal ballerinas and everything is fire and metal and glass and it's amazing.

I'd elaborate on that metaphor, but I think leaving it as is is funnier.

[nioniosbbbb]

blue-green thorax

you mean teal.

a misanthrope,

misanthrope? Doesn't fit in pony lingo.

Cecily's horn lit up, and ghost-like images of instruments flickered into existence all around us.

Did they need to be conjured?

[SoloBrony]

6885373

you mean teal.

Actually, it's a blue-green gradient, which is why I said that, instead of just giving the middlepoint color. One end is blue, one end is green. I felt like describing it in that much detail would take too much room and distract from the story.

misanthrope? Doesn't fit in pony lingo.

The ponies often use words with a root meaning 'human' to refer to people, as opposed to humans specifically. Coining a new term on the spot would be confusing and unnecessary as far as canon goes.

[FanOfMostEverything]

The idea of this beautiful instrument with a snapped-off handle sent a shudder through me.

Octavia is greatly distressed by the senseless, gratuitous violins.

And that reveal. I suspected this might be the case, but it's still a beautiful blend of beauty and tragedy. The mental images that come to mind when I consider the efforts that went into distributing Cecily's work, the dedication to a dream even as it was edited out of the dreamer's mind... Very nice work there.

[Razzy]

That was... Interesting. Also beautiful. I hope Cecily gets the recognition she deserves.

Cya
Raziel-chan

[DiscoPanda84]

6885901
Interestingly enough, while I haven't listened to it, apparently there is an actual album out there titled Gratuitous Sax & Senseless Violins.