The Dancer

by Yip

II - School of Rock

A hoof tapped on wood several times, waiting for the echoing response to fill its owner’s ears. A distortion filled the reply, jumbled by the ringing that still remained from a once full room’s thunderous applause. For several moments, Octavia simply stared. For another moment, the mirage of an ethereal figure briefly shimmered where the dancer had been before.

‘Yo! Octavia!’

A voice coming from afar shattered her concentration, causing the image to vanish instantly. ‘You coming in the next... I dunno, year or so?’ Vinyl called out from the front door. ‘It’s getting pretty dark outside, might want to hurry up.’

‘Yes, yes...’ Octavia stepped off the side of the stage, still keeping her eyes glued to its center. How bizarre...

A gentle whisper of wind whistled through the air as the two mares left the theatre. A whisper...

Octavia...

‘Vinyl!’ Octavia yelped, shivering all over. ‘Did you hear that?’

Vinyl watched and raised an eyebrow as her friend darted her head to and fro, searching for the source of the voice. Her glasses were raised, exposing her cerise eyes to the air. ‘Well, uh... I did kind of call your name.’

‘No, I mean right now. As in a few seconds ago.’

‘Yeah. I was about to ask you something.’

Octavia blushed a deep shade of crimson and turned her head away. ‘Oh... sorry about that. I guess it’s just the wind playing tricks on me.’

Vinyl closed her eyes as the duo walked. A humming sound began to rise out of her throat, culminating in a string of slow, somber sounds escaping her mouth.

‘You change gold to lead... you remember that, Tav?’ Vinyl said softly, opening her eyes and raising them up to the night sky. ‘You played so well today that it sort of... brought me back. You know, back to when we were just little fillies.’ Vinyl was too busy staring at the two stars hovering in a sea of darkness to notice Octavia’s blushing. Lanterns filled with a gentle flame or busy fireflies lined the streets they walked. ‘Do you remember those days, Tav?’

‘Y-Yes, Vinyl.’ Octavia shuddered. ‘I do remember them well.’

‘You alright?’ Vinyl inquired, taking a sideways glance at her friend.

‘Yes, quite alright...’ Octavia’s thoughts wandered for several moments. ‘You know, you were the one who stopped enjoying this kind of music. I figured you’d be the one to forget what it used to be like.’

Vinyl sighed. ‘Mm, yeah. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate some good tunes now and again. I don’t think I’ve heard anything like that though since we played our song.’

‘You still remember that?’ A bright smile stretched over Octavia’s face.

‘Yeah. Like I said: You change gold to lead, but I remember what you said—’

Octavia cleared her throat, and Vinyl nodded her head in response. ‘Purify the colours, purify my mind... how does it go again?’

The two stopped in front of their home. A lantern hung on either side of the door, the fireflies inside brightening up and dancing along with the tune. ‘Spread the ashes of the colours, over this heart of mine,’ Vinyl sang. The fireflies glowed brighter, and both mares smiled at the sight.

‘That song didn’t make any sense!’ Octavia said, giggling. ‘They were nice to make, though... things seem too stressful these days. We need more whimsical things in our lives.'

‘I know what you mean.’ Vinyl pushed open the door with her hoof and the fireflies settled down. A somber fire illuminated two more lanterns on the inside. ‘I think I’m gonna hit the hay,’ she said, stretching her hooves individually before making her way upstairs. ‘G’night, Tavi.’

‘Good night, Vinyl.’ Octavia walked into the dimly-lit living room—groaning as she stepped into an unrecognizable pile of mush on the floor—and sat down on the sofa.

For a few brief moments, she had forgotten all about the dancer. As she laid on the couch, it was all she could think about that night.

~|D|~

An uncomfortable feeling washed over the cello-playing mare—one that hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, one that raised her hooves in a futile attempt to block the sun’s rays. Realizing that it was a wasted effort, she got up from the couch she had been resting on and made her way, groggily, to the living room window.

As she closed the curtains, her body whined and longed for a quick session of stretching—her mind disagreed, and she instinctively followed it to the couch as it longed for more rest.

A sudden knock came, seemingly from nowhere, shaking Octavia out of her sleep-deprived state. She waited several seconds, another knock. ‘Tavi,’ Vinyl’s voice moaned, slightly muffled from the top floor, ‘you gonna answer that? I can’t really sleep when some ponies feel the need to knock at... one thirty in the afternoon! Buncha jerks...’ Vinyl trailed off, prompting a quick eye roll before Octavia walked to the front door.

Another knock came just as she pushed the door open, more forceful than the last. Standing at the doorway was Staccato, putting on a bright smile as he spoke.

‘Good... afternoon, Octavia?’ he said, recoiling a touch at her rustled mane. ‘My word, did you just wake up? Do you know what time it—’

‘Yes, Staccato,’ Octavia replied, rubbing her eyes with an idle hoof. ‘Every Sunday is guaranteed off, though. Nothing’s open.’

‘Yes, yes... but honestly—’ Staccato stared once more, aghast, at Octavia’s mane. ‘—it is far too late to be waking up!’

‘You’re one hundred percent right, Staccato.’ Octavia promised herself another eye roll later. ‘So how come you’re making a house call? Something happen at the Hall?’

‘Well, something did happen, and we want to talk about it... you know what I’m talking about, don’t you?’ Octavia shook her head as the pianist spoke. ‘Come on, then. The other members of the group should be on their way there already—wouldn’t want to keep them waiting, would we? It won’t take long, I promise you that!’

Octavia nodded her head, to which Staccato ushered her along with a hoof. ‘Splendid!’ the stallion said, eyes widening and smile brightening as Octavia followed along. ‘The twins were tagging along as I walked home, when all of a sudden, they thought of a marvelous idea! I chatted with Sonata a little about it, and the twins made a house call for Vivace; I do say, I was hesitant to consider it at first, but it seems to fit with our group so well!’

Octavia waited a moment for Staccato to catch his breath before speaking. ‘And Waltz?’ she inquired. ‘Well, first off, just what is this groundbreaking idea?’

‘You’ll find out when we get there—surprises are all the better!’ Staccato teased, chuckling to himself. ‘Waltz almost always tags along with Sonata, so I’d wager that he’d be showing up too.’

Octavia racked her brain in a futile attempt to come up with more things to say—it was not the awkward silence that bothered her, although Staccato’s random glances at everything around them showed that there was plenty of that.

Her mind slowly drifted to the dancer.

So close... a few feet away... dancing...

The dancer appeared several feet in front of her.

There she is... the curiosity bounds in me... she just disappeared out of thin a—

‘Are you alright, miss Octavia?’ Staccato asked, looking to Octavia with an air not of confusion, but interest. ‘Did you see something?’

As though she had awoken for the second time that day, Octavia shook from her trance. ‘Y-Yes, sorry. Daydreaming about nothing, I guess.’

‘Hopefully you can stay awake for the meeting.’ The two approached the front doors of the “Ponyville Music Hall”, its letters now properly mounted above the entryway. ‘Some mischievous young mare or colt messed with the letters to spell out “Ponyvile Music Hell”. Can you believe that?’

Octavia chuckled. ‘Sounds like quite a handful.’

‘You have no idea. Who would come to a place with “hell” in its name?’ The duo walked inside, soon greeted with a round of waves by the rest of their musical troupe up on the stage. ‘Good afternoon, Ponyville Players!’

‘Hey, that’s a pretty cool name!’ Vivace shouted from across the room. ‘Do we have an official name yet, Staccy?’

Staccato harrumphed at “Staccy”, but continued to move towards the stage with Octavia by his side. ‘I didn’t really think about that, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.’

The six other musicians nodded their heads in agreement and went into the back room together—as they entered the windowless space, Staccato assumed the center of the room while his fellow players circled around him.

‘Octavia,’ he began, ‘that playing was absolutely phenomenal last night. Does anyone here disagree?’ The room fell silent. ‘As I expected, everyone agrees. Now, we might still be all excited from the huge applause we got—no, earned, last night, so consider this thoughtfully before making any judgements on this suggestion.’

Staccato drew in a deep breath and let it all out slowly.

‘I propose that we add a little “rock” element to our group.’ Small murmurs scattered throughout the room—all but Sonata, however, had smiles on their faces. Sonata bore a scowl. ‘Now now, this isn’t some huge undertaking from everyone. In fact, all we really need to do is keep Octavia doing her own thing like last night.’

‘Won’t that just make my music sound off?’ Octavia commented, raising an eyebrow. ‘I mean, it’s not like I can’t make my cello make all sorts of melodies, “rock and roll” or whatever suits your fancy, but it wouldn’t fit if it wasn’t backed by something else.’

‘Very true,’ Staccato replied. ‘Very true. Any thoughts?’

‘Adding this to our group is ridiculous, Staccato!’ Sonata said sharply. ‘Honestly! Do you want to alienate our listeners with that trash every night? No offense to you, Octavia. I really like your part, but anything past that would be too much for our audience.’

‘Well, what about the Lonely Hooves Club Band?’ Clef—or Treble, no one in the room could tell when their hair wasn’t done up properly—piped up.

‘Indeed, they put orchestra music in with rock and they’re the most famous music group in history!’

‘We already took the first step by playing “Yesterday”!’

‘And we can play something else if flutes aren’t needed!’

‘You can’t really compare us to them, girls,’ Sonata replied, frowning. ‘We’re not at their level, not by a long shot. If Octavia’s music doesn’t sound good without other elements of rock backing it up, I say we forget about this completely.’

‘Sonata, please understand that you are not in charge here, nor am I.’ Staccato frowned disapprovingly. ‘I am merely stating an idea to expand our audience. Should they choose not to like it, then we can revert back to our present music. All I ask is that we give this a chance; we can rehearse some of this new music as a group in case we ever need it.’ A pause. ‘All in favour of at least rehearsing this idea?’

All hooves save Sonata’s and Waltz’s shot up. Waltz looked around and slowly rose his own into the air, met with several approving nods and a single sigh.

‘Wonderful!’ Staccato clapped his hooves and smiled. ‘We’ll keep playing as we did on Saturday until our new sound really kicks in! Now, I’ve got a dreadful amount of things to do at home, so now that we have everything settled, I say we wrap this up with a ta-da!’

Staccato turned—shooting Sonata a quick, hard glare as he did—and left the room. A murmur buzzed around the room as the remaining musicians made their way to the door, followed by short formalities as they departed.

Octavia watched as Sonata, hanging her head down low while she walked, left the circle wordlessly. A part of her was drawn to leave the theatre right then in an attempt to keep Sonata’s privacy as it was—private. A larger part of her—curiosity, as it were—sparked a conversation.

‘Sonata, wait!’ Octavia called out, grabbing the attention of both the violinist and the colt walking alongside her, the group’s drummer. ‘Could I have a word?’

‘By all means,’ Sonata replied warmly. ‘If this is about my reluctance to your music, though, I assure you I meant no harm—’

‘It’s not that,’ Octavia cut in, eliciting a sliver of surprise from the two she walked with. ‘I was just wondering if you could tell me... no, that’s silly. Forget I said anything.’

‘What is it, Octavia?’ Sonata inquired, opening the theatre’s front doors with a gentle push. ‘We won’t bite. Waltz certainly won’t,’ she added, chuckling as Waltz’s cheeks glowed bright red.

‘Well, it’s...’ Octavia stepped outside and noticed Staccato’s distant figure ahead. ‘It’s about you and Staccato.’

Sonata drew in a deep breath and she, too, stared out to Staccato’s figure. She paused for a moment, allowed Waltz’s hoof to rest on her shoulder and give it a few pats before continuing on. Octavia swore she could see a tear beginning to form before Sonata’s head turned.

‘I’m surprised no one has tried to ask me that question yet,’ she stated, waving off Waltz’s hoof with her own. ‘Waltz would be the only one who’d know—he hasn’t really interacted with many ponies but myself and a few others, but we’ve spent a lot of time together. I’ve been almost as independent as he has since I was a nearly grown-up filly—since Staccato and I got along.’

‘You two were friends?’

Both Sonata and Waltz nodded—the latter’s eyes lit up, steady and unwavering, as his friend spoke. ‘Very good friends, actually. He was my neighbour when we were young, long before I met Waltz and much longer than when I became involved with this group.’ Sonata looked up to the clear sky, stopped for a moment and closed her eyes. ‘We were self-titled rebels; our parents were strict, enforcing curfews and the like during ridiculous hours. So we did what any young ponies do in those cases: we snuck out of our homes and talked about what we’d do with our lives.’

Octavia allowed a slight giggle to escape her mouth, eliciting a slight blush in her cheeks.

‘We wanted to do whatever we could to record our rebellious nature. We tried writing stories, making diaries, confiding secrets in each other... but songwriting was the best of the bunch. Our idea was to become rockstars and use the songs we made when we grew old enough.’

‘Rock? But aren’t you against that type of music?’

‘Not particularly.’ Sonata drew in another deep breath and let it all out, an exasperated sigh. ‘See, we grew up and started playing the music... but Staccato grew to be so good at playing and making rock ballads with his piano that my lyrical services weren’t really needed anymore. He drifted into playing more formal songs—less about staying up past curfews and more of whatever randomly came out of his head. Soon, lyrics were cut altogether, and in his genius sprouted seclusion of the worst form. One day, he just didn’t speak altogether, so I hit my breaking point and left.’

Sonata hung her head low once more, prompting another round of pats from Waltz’s hoof. The trio stopped at a fork on the street, one way leading to Octavia’s home, the other way leading to a bridge connecting several more homes to the main part of town.

‘I-I’m sorry if that dug too deep, Sonata,’ Octavia stammered.

‘Don’t worry about it, Octavia,’ Sonata replied, shaking her head. ‘I’ve actually been waiting to tell someone about Staccato and I—well, I don’t think I was going to tell Vivace unless I wanted the entire town to start making rumours about us.’ The two mares shared a short giggle. ‘But that’s in the past. For now, I’m just focusing on how this will all turn out—I really do want the group to experience some well-deserved success. Especially when we have someone as talented as you.’

‘Oh goodness no—we’re all equally talented!’ Octavia said, her face glowing with a blush much redder than before. ‘That’ll show at our next concerto! See you tomorrow, you two!’

‘S-See you then, Octavia!’ Waltz called out, smiling brightly as he waved. Sonata joined in, and the two promptly turned and walked towards the bridge, leaving Octavia alone with her thoughts.

She walked down the short distance to her home.

It’s good to have ponies on your side. Even Waltz seemed to warm up to me!

A wispy cloud formed ahead of her. It quickly morphed into the figure of a mare.

No... ‘Go away!’

The figure looked at Octavia. This was not the same one that belonged to the theatre; its physical features—or lack thereof—were the same, but an empty, cold stare was present in the place of life. It did not exist.

This does not exist.

Octavia shut her eyes for several seconds, then reopened them. Nothing was out of place any longer; nevertheless, the cellist stood still. Waiting.

But nothing came.

This does not exist.

Octavia walked into her home and crashed on the sofa without a word. Vinyl was not there. Nor was Octavia.

~|D|~

‘A full house?’ Vivace gasped. ‘Does that look like a full house to you, Octy?’

Octavia took a glance over to Vivace, standing nervously behind the curtains shielding them from the audience beyond. Even on the dimly-lit backstage, Octavia could’ve sworn that she had goosebumps all over her.

‘Hello? Octy?’

Octavia blinked twice—before she could react, however, Staccato had made his way to to the curtains himself. After poking his head out for a quick moment, he looked to Vivace. ‘It’s not quite a full house,’ he corrected. ‘It’s definitely close, though. Doesn’t matter if there are a dozen or several hundred out there, though; we need to bring our A-game every night. Especially if that talent seeker is amongst the crowd.’

The remainder of the group approached the curtains, smiling with various instruments by their side—save for Staccato and Waltz, the latter bringing with him two felt-tipped mallets that hung securely from leather bands around his hooves. Octavia wordlessly got into position on the stage, grasping her cello with one hoof and her mahogany clamped in the other.

No one was speaking—no, Octavia thought, Staccato is saying something... I can see his lips moving—

A wisp hovered over Staccato. The musicians all stood in their proper positions, poised to play—but Octavia could only remain captivated by the wisp. She frowned, then smiled, then stood blankly.

‘Ponyville Music Hall welcomes one of Ponyville’s premier groups, the Ponyville Players, to play “Whisper in the Wind”,’ a deep, loud voice called from above. Applause soon followed.

Curtains.

The applause soon died down, and with it came calming beats from the timpani drum. As each instrument came into play, following Waltz’s rolling beat, their players took quick glances at Octavia. A small murmur coursed through the audience upon sight of the mare, who had been too busy staring at the alluring movements of the dancer on-stage to raise her playing arm.

Staccato, beginning to blush harder and harder as the murmurs continued to pass through, hit each key on his piano with more force than before. With it, the murmurs grew louder.

Finally, when he could take it no more, he hopped off of his piano and stormed towards Octavia. The audience gasped, and so did the dancer—in the span of a few seconds, the mirage stopped dancing, turned to Octavia and disappeared altogether without so much as a smile or a frown. Staccato, on the other hand, was most definitely frowning—complimenting his reddened face.

‘Octavia!’ he whispered harshly, bringing Octavia back to her senses. ‘What in Celestia’s name are you doing?’

‘I—’ Octavia looked out to the audience, still murmuring as they spoke. ‘I—’

‘We haven’t planned for improvisation! How do you expect us to cope with you not playing?’ Staccato looked to the audience and took in a deep breath. ‘Look, are you with us? Are you focused?’

‘I—yes.’

‘Then let’s get to it. We’ll talk about this later.’ Staccato sighed and walked over to his piano. Octavia raised her bow for the first time that night, set it on the strings and waited for Waltz’s beat to lead her in.

Octavia did not play a solo, nor could she look at her fellow Ponyville Players that gave her quick, worried glances as the night went on. The applause was lacking, and the dancer was not amongst the watchers.

Octavia did not want applause, nor did she care about her blunder. She longed for the dancer.

Author's Note:

The Dancer is back.

It's time to write this.

Comments

[GingerNut]

Very nice! Very refreshing read!

[Raistlin]

1571881

I was thinking in the Black Swan of Natalie Portman.

[Raxus]

*Reads first chapter* "This is look promising and interesting, can't wait for the next chapter". A year and four days later: "Well....that took a while" Love it

[Blahman2816]

3466377 This happened a year and four days later?
Well, it's about time you got on it, YY.

[Yip]

3466624 You look incredibly familiar. I swear I've seen you on another one of my stories before.

And to 3466377 and you, that won't happen again. Promise.

[Blahman2816]

3467379 And I believe that the story in question has been deleted, or I can't find it...

I think I was the one that was kinda new to the fandom and ended up hating above mystery story because it involved my favorite character at the time, Rarity, being murdered. I was an insensitive little kid, I was.

Now do you remember me?

[Yip]

3467426 Dear god, that monstrosity. I had never written creatively in any capacity before that happened, so it turned out... well, you saw what it looked like. Thank god you're the only one who remembers—I'd prefer if no one remembered it, but oh well.

But yeah, I remember now. Sorry about making you upset then (I remember that happening too).

[Blahman2816]

3467431 Meh, I think we both learned from that one...good to see you have EqD worthy stories now! Much more bearable death!

[Dartrunner]

she got up from the coach she had been resting on

Couch.

Other than that, good job. I look forward to the rest of this story.

[Meridian Prime]

Purify the colours, purify my mind...