Inverno - The Music Catcher

by CrackedInkWell

Moderato Ad Libitum

Perhaps it might be because he hadn’t encountered another living being in decades, or maybe it might be because they were relatively young; but Inverno found these ponies as… peculiar. And that was the nicest way to put it. Right from Izzy’s introduction, he saw her as being friendly, if a bit scatterbrained, Inverno saw her as overall… harmless.

The other ponies… he wasn’t too sure what to make of them. They weren’t bad by any means, but he didn’t know what to make of them.

There were the two sisters, both pegasi. A taller one, by the name of Zipp, vaguely reminded Inverno of something. The… Wonder Vaults? Or something like that. The other one, Pipp, being shorter was groomed and primed like an expensive doll that carried around a somewhat thin, boxy thing that had a tiny camera on one end and a screen on the other. Although he was told it was a phone, to him it reminded him more like a tinny movie screen.

Hitch was the only male in the group, an earth pony who was protective of his friends. Inverno heard something about him being a sheriff from Izzy, but to him, he resembled more of the old Royal Guard. Loyal but confident to the point he didn’t shake his hoof when offered. Inverno reasoned that perhaps it might be because that he’s a stranger to them. He supposed he couldn’t blame him for thinking so. In a strange way how he carried himself, it reminded him vaguely of his dad.

“How long have you lived here!?”

Then there was the excitable one of the group, an orange earth pony who the moment Inverno introduced himself mowed him down with one question after another with barely enough time for him to get a word in.

“How old are you?”

“I don’t-”

“What have you been doing all this time?”

“I was-”

“Did you happen to know Princess Twilight?”

“Well I-”

“Could you tell me what Canterlot was like since you are an eye-witness-”

“YOUNG LADY!” Inverno snapped at her, his voice echoing through the empty city. At that sudden moment, all the younger ponies were taken aback by his sudden outburst. Breathing in immediately realizing what slipped through his mouth, he added, “Apologies, but you plowed through your questions before I could get anything out.”

“Oh…”

“So… first thing’s first,” he pointed around, “Izzy, Zipp, Pipp, Hitch, and… what was your name?”

“It’s Sunny. And sorry, I didn’t expect to find anypony still living here. I mean… how old are you anyway if that’s okay for me to ask.”

Inverno shrugged, “Honestly? I forgot.”

Zipp raised an eyebrow, “How do you forget how old you are?”

“When there’s hardly anyone around for decades and one-day blends into the next, you’ll find how hard it is to keep track of time. But to give you a rough idea, and I’m oversimplifying it… When I was a colt, Twilight Sparkle wasn’t a Princess yet until a couple of years later.”

“Incredible!” Sunny began to pace, “If what you’re saying is true, then that makes you-”

“The oldest living pony in the world.” Hitch pointed out, “If that’s remotely true, that must make you way over a hundred years old.”

“No, much more than that,” Inverno said but waved it off, “but it’s complicated. Now I have a question for all of you. What are you doing here? More importantly… what took you so long?”

“Ooh! Ooh!” Izzy waved her hoof up in the air. “I know this one! It’s because Sunny wanted to prove that this place exists, and what do you know? We found it.”

Inverno blinked, “Exists?”

“Everyone thought this place was a myth,” Sunny explained. “And that’s not quite true. But honestly, I didn’t expect anypony would be here.”

“I see.” Coughing into a hoof, Inverno asked, “Anyway, I suppose while you’re all here, I should welcome you as guests. Can I invite you for lunch? I’d be delighted if I could at least treat you from coming all this way.”

Hitch stepped forward, “Hang on, how do we know you’re not tricking us into something?”

“You’re the first ponies I’ve seen in Gods-know-how-long, and my first instinct is to fool you? What would I gain if I did? Frankly, I’m happy and relieved that there are still ponies out there. Besides, as a host, it would be rude of me to hurt my guests. It’s just bad manners.”

Hitch’s mouth hangs open for a moment but soon closed. After a huff, he told him, “No tricks. I’ll be watching you.”

From there, Inverno leads them through the streets, ooh-ing and ahh-ing along the way past the buildings and landmarks. At one point, he noticed Pipp holding up the flat camera up to what he thought was taking pictures, but then got curious when she started talking into it.

“What is up, Pipsqueaks! I have a special update for you all, coming to you live from the long-lost city of Canterlot. That’s right! It turns out that Sunny’s hunch was correct and the city of myth and legend is 100% real. Just take a look at this everypony.”

Holding her phone up to give a sweeping view of the ruins, Inverno stopped for a moment before approaching her, curious to see what she was doing.

“Obviously this place has seen better days but it’s surprising how much this stuff is still standing. But that’s not all. Finding the city, we got a big surprise. Turns out, this ancient city isn’t quite abandoned-”

“Who are you talking to?” Inverno asked.

“Ah, speaking of which.” Pipp flew up a little, holding up the device to show her and Inverno’s reflection on the screen. “Guys, this is Inverno. He’s possibly the oldest-”

“You’re talking to a mirror?”

Pipp looked over her shoulder. “No… I’m having a live stream with my fans to give them an update.”

Inverno frowned, “Miss, would you please speak Equestrian? I don’t think I understood half of what you said.”

There was a moment of pause between them, “Wait, you’ve never seen this before?”

“You said earlier it was a phone, but it looks like a weird sort of camera to me that… apparently can be a mirror as well. But what are those floaty things there in the corner?”

“Emojis.”

Inverno stared at her blankly.

Pipp flew away from him a little for distance. “Anyway… as you can see, Inverno has been living here since Canterlot was abandoned. Having no knowledge of the outside world. Things are starting to get mysterious, and I’ll be sure to give you all a further update as soon as we find out more about this place and this mystery pony. That’s all for now, gotta go. Pip Pip Hurray!”

After touching something on the screen, Pipp gave a weird look at Inverno as he passed by, resuming to lead them the way.

Zipp trotted up to him, “So… What have you been doing here all this time?”

“Wait, didn’t I… oh that’s right, I have only spoken to your bubbly friend there.” Inverno pointed at Izzy. “Sometimes it’s a little hard to keep track of things. But to answer your question, I’m a Music Catcher.”

“What does that mean?”

“That I go about the city trying to find whatever sheet music is left, and I copy out, restore, and even record the music.”

“What kind of music?”

“Any that I can get my hooves on.” Inverno stopped to reach into his saddle bag and pulled out a small book whose pages are falling off. “For example, I just found this today. Beethooven, one of his… I think it’s a late String Quartet of his.”

“Whose Beethoven?” Inverno looked at her, wide-eyed surprised. “What?”

“You don’t know who Beethoven is?” Zipp shrugged her shoulders. “What about… Moztrot?” Same reaction. “Buch? Paganeighni? Horeseshoepin? Tchaicoltsky?”

“Maybe it’s because I’m not all that smart but I’ve never heard of any of them before.”

“…. I was afraid of this,” Inverno said aloud, shaking his head.

“About what?” Sunny asked.

“When Equestria was collapsing, I feared there would be a dark age. One where the greatest works would either be lost or forgotten. I suppose that makes me the only one alive to know that any of this music is still around. But if you’re all here, and there are more ponies out there… then maybe it’s worth sharing my life’s work.”

“Can we hear some of it?” Izzy asked.

“After lunch,” Inverno said, moving forward, “I can treat you to some of it. I’ll even sing too.”

“That’s the thing I don’t quite get,” Hitch told him, “If you were… say… copying books, that’d be one thing, but why to focus so much on music?”

“In my view, language is always subjected to change. It’s unavoidable with time, cultures, class, and even generations where the spoken and written word could be tweaked, twisted, turned, reinvented, or fall out of fashion. But music is more… eternal. It’s a snapshot of a place and time where a single note is either right or wrong absolutely. Not even time could change that. Even when styles come and go, with good music especially, it will never, ever age.”

“I mean… he’s partly right,” Sunny said to her friends. “It’s very rare that we know what music way back then sounded like. There’re illustrations from books that show us what instruments were played, but outside of that, there’s not an awful lot as far as I know.”

A smirk grew on Inverno’s face, “It would be a pleasure to enlighten you.”

It didn’t take long to show them the opera house. Though in ruins with part of its façade collapsed, there was a sublime sense of majesty as though it was an ancient palace. White marble and columns held up its walls with the collapsed double doors at the front. He led them through the peeling frescos and crumbling statues, between the staircase of the foyer, and into the grand theater itself with its torn rows of seats, collapsed dome above, shattered chandelier in the middle, and there at the very front – a stage that still stood.

“My apologies for the mess,” Inverno said, “if I knew that you were coming, I would have cleaned up a little.”

Hitch eyed what was on stage and the hole in the roof. On stage was a bed made up of pillows, rags, and books; a firepit made from bricks with a frying pan and pot on the side; some books strewn about the stage; clothes and costumes that hung on a rack; and piles of tin cans, bottles, and jars. “So do you move somewhere else during the winter?”

“To the basement when the weather gets too cold.” Inverno climbed up on stage, looking through the cans. “Give me a minute or so to figure out what to serve you. In the meantime, make yourselves at home.”

While Inverno thought over what to serve to his guests, they started to wonder. Zipp flipped through the pile of books that have been yellowed with age, Pipp took pictures of the crumbling opera house, Izzy, over by the fallen chandelier to pry it for any loose pieces, Hitch examined the make-shift bed, and Sunny went in front of the stage to look at the rows of empty seats. Then, finding some cans of soup, Inverno started to open them when Sunny asked, “So… why do you live here of all places?”

“Why not?”

“Well… it’s just that there are plenty of houses you could have gone to. But why live in an opera house?”

“You could say,” Inverno opened the first can and dumped its contents in the biggest pot he had, “that I’m sentimental. This place had so many good memories that anywhere else doesn’t feel like home.”

“What kind of memories?”

“Well, once upon a time when I grew up and moved to Canterlot, I tried to make a name for myself given my talents in music. Working my way up from playing in restaurants, to writing some pieces to be published. Truthfully it took a long while to figure out what I wanted to do, so I came here to be trained as an Opera singer. Given my unique voice, it did help build a reputation. Before everything collapsed, I was happily working with the Opera company at the time while being able to conduct as a side job. A good chunk of my life was spent here. Refining masterpieces for a paying public.”

“But how come you stayed? If everypony else has gone away, why didn’t you go with them?”

“… It’s… a personal matter for me,” Inverno said, opening the next can. “All I can say is when everyone left, I wasn’t alone for a while.”

“Oh…” Sunny fell into an awkward silence, her ears folded back against her head.

“Still, how is the outside world doing? Are there more ponies out there or is it just you five?”

“There’s still plenty of us,” Hitch said. “Recently there’s been a lot of changes going on.”

“For example?” Inverno asked, opening another can.

“Well, the three tribes are starting to come together for the first time.”

“And magic’s back,” Izzy called out, “don’t forget about that.”

Inverno blinked. “That’s right, one of you mentioned that but… how do you know?”

“It’s a long story,” Sunny told him. “To put it in a nutshell, this whole time, all the magic from Unicorn, Pegasi, and Earth Ponies was storied in three crystals. And, in short, we found them. There was a truce among all three tribes and the magic returned to Equestria. There’s a lot more to it, of course, but…” She saw the look on Inverno’s face and asked, “Did… did you not know about it? It’s been back for a few months now.”

“It’s strange unless I’ve fallen asleep, I don’t think I noticed… wait.” Inverno got up, “Would one of you stir the soup? I’ll be right back; I need to find something first.”

Rushing off stage and disappearing into the wings, Sunny took up to stirring the pot while Inverno rummaged through something. There was the sound of stuff being tossed aside with the ancient stallion muttering, “Where is it? Where is- there you are!” He pushed out onto the stage a dusty gramophone, but as soon as he did, he disappeared again. For several minutes the young ponies wondered what the old geezer was doing until he came rushing back with a few records in hoof.

“What’s all that?” Izzy asked, walking towards the stage.

“Recordings of instrumentals I’ve done. But give me a moment…” Going through the short collection in hoof, Inverno scanned through the records for something short but virtuosic. At the last record, he smiled and set the others aside. “When I was young, I was diagnosed with a form of Synesthesia. In plain Equestrian, whenever I hear or play music, I could visualize it. Sometimes it would be abstract colors moving about, and other times I would see a scene play out as richly and clearly as I see you now… Well, back when my sight was good. As got older, I learned a spell about how to project what I saw so that everyone can see it. When magic disappeared, so did my ability. But…” He dusted off the gramophone and turned the crank, “If you’re right, and if we’re lucky… very, very, very, very, very lucky… I think I can still do this.”

“What are you doing?” Hitch asked.

“I’m going to play something and sing to this.” Feeling the crank had tightened, he placed the record on the turntable. “Oh! If this works, then allow me to give you a little context for what you’re about to see. This was a famous aria from Moztrot’s The Magic Flute. In it, the hero is going through all these trials, and his lover… oh what was the name… Pamina! That was it! Pamina is anxious about his survival. It is then, that her mother, the Queen of the Night finds her. Pamina asks how come she wasn’t rescued by the hero, and she replies that she is undergoing the trials of her father, Sarastro. Her mother is furious at this because Sarastro had taken a birthright that she argued was hers. She tells her that if she goes with the hero now, she will disown her.”

“Gotta say,” Izzy commented, “This sounds overly dramatic and complicated.”

“Well, it is opera,” Inverno laughed, “Anyway, the Queen of the Night offers her daughter a crystal dagger and commands to, in her words, ‘Kill the stallion you call father.’ Of course, Pamina couldn’t do it. She cannot do it. It sends her mother into a rage. What she sings, I think translates as… The wrath of Tartarus is raging in my heart. Death and fury are flaming in my soul! You will give Sarastro the pain of death. Or it shall be, my love for you is dead! Destroyed forever, denied forever, cursed forever, everything that binds me to you. Our ties, our trust, our love, these bonds will be cut. Everything that binds us, denied, unless, Sarastro dies by your own hoof! Hear, hear, here, Gods of revenge! This, your mother’s curse!”

“Sheesh,” Pipp commented, “Talk about toxic parenting.”

“True. But at the time when I got into singing, ponies told me that stallions in general could not sing it because the notes were way too high. Even for professional singers, it’s one of the most challenging arias you could sing. But when I sang it-”

“Wait a minute,” Hitch interrupted, “Are you saying that you sang something that was meant for-”

“The Queen of the Night,” Inverno interrupted back, “Yes, yes, I know, but trust me, there is a good reason for it."

Pressing a button to activate the turntable and carefully placing the needle down. Inverno went up towards the front-center stage. He listened to the soft cracks and pops from the record, waiting for it to begin. Closing his eyes, he heard the trembling violins and took in a deep breath. Even though he hadn’t sung this aria for a long time, every word and note came rushing back at once when he opened his mouth.

A powerful voice escaped his lips that were high in pitch. A voice that was neither a mare’s nor a young colt, but something close to angelic. The voice boomed like a cannon and yet, sweet to the ear like a singing lark. Every note was clear. Every note rang like a bell. His voice had a virtuosity as he goes from one note to the next with the speed and grace of a violin. Though the tone of voice was angry – the kind which it would take one step back from – it commanded power throughout the empty theater.

Behind him, the five friends couldn’t believe what they were hearing. Within moments of Inverno singing, Pipp pulled out her phone and began recording. Zipp leaned over to her and whispered, ‘That is not the voice I expected from an old guy.” Pipp shushed her.

Getting to the first climax of the aria, Inverno felt something… familiar from his horn. Reaching those high notes, he felt a tangly sensation like sparks. With every passing bar, his heart was filling up with something he thought he would never feel again – hope. Before he knew it, he imagined himself being on stage in that role once more. And seeing it all again in his mind’s eye – he opened them.

With the swooping and sweeping violins, Inverno felt his magic spring back to life as the illusion took hold. He saw the Opera House, full and restored with its audience. And turning around, he saw the stage had become a field of stars. All the young ponies saw it too and were taken aback at the sudden change. As Inverno continued to sing, Inverno raised a hoof to see that he was in that starry dress once more – complete with that heavy crown on his head. However, one part of the illusion he saw from the corner of his eye nearly made him lose his concentration. To the left of him was… her… the one who played Pamina in the Opera all those years ago.

As much as he tried to ignore her, he spotted Izzy in the audience, walking up the aisle towards the front of the stage, looking at the horrified, crying mare beside Inverno. Though he sang his heart out with the utmost focus – he could see that she (and to an extent, her friends) – were looking at the actress next to him with a mixture of awe and fascination. He knew why just as much as the audience in his illusion were. Because the one who landed in the role of Pamina was a Changeling.

At the height of his singing where the character was full of rage, Inverno stomped on the stage as hard as he could along with the thunderous strings. It was only then that he finally turned to look at Pamina. For a moment, his heart nearly stopped when he saw her eyes. Those sunset eyes over her yellow face. It took every ounce of self-control not to burst into tears as he took in another breath to finish out the aria. His rising, climatic voice that echoed in the theater finished out the last few bars. Inverno turned to the audience as the orchestra rushed to the final few notes for him to take a bow. And as the record had finished, so did the illusion.

When Inverno opened his eyes, he saw that the audience was gone, the theater rotting, and all that remained were the five stunned ponies that had their mouths hung open.

“Sorry,” Inverno coughed into his hoof, “force of habit.” Turning his attention to the now simmering pot, he asked them, “So… ready to have some lunch?”

Comments

[Joe Toon]

“What is up, Pipsqueaks! I have a special update for you all, coming to you live from the long-lost city of Canterlot. That’s right! It turns out that Sunny’s hunch was correct and the city of myth and ledged is 100% real. Just take a look at this everypony.”

I think that is supposed to be legend.

[CrackedInkWell]

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