My Little World
“This journalist is a jerk!” complained Paperweight. “You oughta give him a piece of your mind.”
Octavia glanced at the paper, looking at it over her morning – and therefore, pre-bedtime – meal of oatmeal and fruit. “What happened?”
A few days had passed since Thrash had attacked them. Both Octavia and Paperweight had gone to the Guards and given full statements, and the Guards had promised that they would look into the matter. Since then, there had been no sound from Thrash, and Octavia had allowed herself to hope that the metal musician had either been arrested, or had gotten the hint and given up for good. She’d certainly been able to fill her time without him; she’d recorded the music that Luna had asked for, and was making great progress on her ‘Iron Mare’ style composition. She had also picked up a concert request from Vicereine Wallflower; the pony liked very subtle, understated music, and even Octavia had to practice a bit more than usual to be able to produce the required shading. It would be much easier for her if Thrash had just surrendered and gone home.
But it was not to be. “Thrash vindicated!” read the article in Notes on Notes. “Despite a persistent harassment campaign from the city’s musical elites, rising star Thrash Metail remains unbowed and undaunted. With even the city Guards, no friend of his, forced to concede that these latest allegations against him are baseless, Thrash is once again free to perform the music that the ponies of Canterlot just can’t get enough of!”
Paperweight snatched the paper back. “This is so unfair! They say that you’re just jealous of his success, and that you hate all music that isn’t three hundred years old and written by old dead ponies with white wigs, and—“
“I don’t care what they say about me. Those who hear my music will know the truth about me. Those who don’t, I can’t waste my time worrying about them.” Octavia sighed. “They have a point. I wish it were otherwise, but we had no evidence against Thrash. Just our word.”
“Yeah, but your word’s supposed to be really good,” said Paperweight, crossing her forelegs.
“The Guards can’t take that into consideration. And… maybe this will be a wake-up call, to help get him off of his current course. With the Guards watching him now, I don’t think even he would be foolish enough to use his Euphoria magic. Honestly, if he stops attacking us, and stops pretending to be somepony he isn’t, I don’t really care if he goes to jail or not. I just want it to be done with. So I don’t need to think about him anymore.”
“Well… alright, what do you want to think about?” chirped Paperweight.
Octavia couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “My current composition… my upcoming performances… and my newfound resolution to see more concerts in the city.” Her eyes sparkled; she had made a discovery earlier that night that she wanted to share with her friend. “Are you on duty tonight?”
“Uh… I think I’m scheduled for it, but I haven’t taken any vacation yet. I’m sure the Viceroy would let me take a night off if I cleared it with him in advance. Why?”
“Did you know that Frederick Horseshoepin is giving a special performance this evening?”
Paperweight’s eyes widened. “But… I thought he was doing his big foreign tour?”
“He is, but he’s moving through Equestria on his way to Zaldia. He got in to Canterlot last night; he’s leaving again in a couple of days. He was going to take the time off, but one of the nobles prevailed on him to give a concert with some of his most notable works. It’s small, invitation only, and it will mostly be an audience of nobles… but, thanks to my position, I am entitled to a complimentary ticket or two. If you want…”
Paperweight’s grin almost split her face in half. “I – I could go to a Frederick Horseshoepin concert? His concerts sell out months in advance!”
“If you’re available,” said Octavia, smiling teasingly.
“Sure! I’ll clear it with the Viceroy.” Paperweight looked like she was struggling to avoid bouncing up and down in glee. “Oh wow! Thank you so much, Octavia! I don’t know how I’ll make it up to you!”
“Just promise me we can discuss the music later,” said Octavia. She finished her food and rose to bus her dishes. “I find your insights interesting. You know such a wide breadth of music—“
Paperweight blushed. “Thanks. That means a lot, coming from you.”
They continued to talk as they made their way up to Octavia’s quarters. Octavia opened the door and looked at the few pieces of mail under it. “If you’re willing to wait a few moments while I make sure I don’t have any urgent mail, I can look up the venue address for Frederick’s concert.”
“Sure, sure… hey, you’re on a first name basis with him?”
“We performed together… last year, I believe. He’s a very kind pony,” said Octavia, flipping through her mail. “We performed a concerto for piano and cello, and a suite for—“
She froze, staring at one of the letters.
“What? What is it?” Paperweight asked.
“That arrogant, conceited…” hissed Octavia. She slammed the letter against the wall. “It’s Thrash.”
Paperweight gasped. “What? What does he want now?”
“I’m tempted to burn it and never find out,” said Octavia. But she took a few deep breaths. “…no. The last time he wanted me and couldn’t contact me, he attacked you.”
“Wait,” interjected Paperweight. “I mean, uh, I’m tough. You don’t need to worry about me.”
“It’s fine.” Octavia tore open the letter and glanced at the first few lines. “He wants to meet and talk. Public place, full view of the Guards, so I know he can’t use his magic on me…” She scowled and looked away. “I want to be done with him.”
“Don’t go,” said Paperweight.
“I don’t plan to.” She shook her head. “I do not respond to threats. I will take this to the Guards and make it known that Thrash is harassing me. This must stop.”
“Yeah!” Paperweight nodded her head. “He’s just a bad pony. It’s ridiculous that he’s asking you to talk to him, after everything he did!”
Octavia nodded.
“Did he even say what he wants to talk about?”
Octavia glanced back at the letter. “Yes.” She began to read. “’You’ve beaten me twice now. I’m starting to think you might be right; that the way I’m doing this isn’t going to work. I want to talk with you about that. If what I’m doing isn’t working, if it’s just going to get me arrested and won’t help me improve, I don’t want to do it. But I don’t know any other way…” She stared. “Does he expect me to believe that he’s never heard of ‘practicing?’”
But something in the letter seemed to catch in her mind. There was a time, she thought, When I was also corrupt. When I also thought I had found a shortcut, and set aside my morals for the sake of my music. I was saved because of my friends… because they saved me even when I didn’t think I was worth saving. Does Thrash have friends?
She frowned, and shook her head. That didn’t matter. Thrash had done much worse than she ever had. Octavia had never lied about her ability, and she’d never cast a spell on anypony to brainwash them. The similarities were only superficial.
But as the Court Musician, as one who influences music and its practitioners in this city, if there’s a chance to rescue a musician… and wouldn’t it be shameful, if I let others help me, go to all that trouble and risk to save me, and then turn around and let others suffer, and do nothing for them?
“Hey,” said Paperweight. “Are you okay? You look kind of out of it.”
“I’m fine,” said Octavia. “I’m just thinking…”
She looked at the letter again. She knew the chances of him being sincere were remote. But if there was even a chance, and she failed to take it…
“Besides,” she mused. “I know he can’t control me now. I know how to fight off his music. He couldn’t beat me with two mounted speakers; he can’t do it with just his guitar, in an open, noisy environment… with a hundred others to worry about besides.”
“Are you going?” asked a confused Paperweight.
“I don’t know,” said Octavia.
Paperweight peered over Octavia’s shoulder to read the note closer. “Do you think he’s serious? About wanting to be… not evil?”
“I don’t know.”
Paperweight thought for a moment. “Well, if you do go, I’m coming with.”
Octavia opened her mouth to object.
“Hey, we’re friends, right? Like I’m going to let you deal with this nutjob on your own. You’d insist on going if you thought I was going to see him alone, right?”
“Well, yes…” Octavia trailed off, then smiled. “I’d be honored if you accompanied me.”
In an hour, Paperweight and Octavia entered the crowded bookshop that Thrash had specified.
Thrash was waiting for them in the music section, guitar strapped to his back but in its case. He put down the score he was leafing through when Octavia approached. “Hey.”
“What do you want, Thrash?” asked Octavia.
Thrash smirked. “You’re real businesslike, aren’t you?”
“Yes. I am.” Octavia took out the letter from her saddlebag. “If you’re serious about wanting to change your ways, I might be able to help you. But if you just want to brag, or threaten, I have no time for you.”
“Hey, hold on!” Thrash put up a hoof to ward off Octavia’s criticisms. “Look. Before that. I need to know – how are you doing it?”
“What?”
“Fighting it!” Thrash gestured at his guitar. His voice had begun to sound genuinely nervous. “You don’t understand. Nopony’s supposed to be able to fight it. How are you different?”
Octavia frowned. “Why would I tell you?”
“Because – look. Sometimes I feel like I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.” His body language, Octavia thought, was strange; he seemed to almost be cringing away from the guitar on his back. “I just know it isn’t working. Are you using some spell of your own? A true-hearing spell? Earplugs?”
“Nothing like that.” Octavia frowned. “Thrash. I have trained in music for almost the entirety of my life. I have spent thousands of hours studying and analyzing music. Yours cannot bear analysis, and I am able to hear understand that at such a level that the superficial magic has no effect on me. That’s all there is to it.”
“But that’s not enough!” Octavia stared; Thrash was starting to sweat. The guitarist continued: “I know there’s more to it. I’ve dealt with classical musicians before. None of them were like you!”
“All I can tell you is what I know,” said Octavia. “But if you truly cared about music, you’d be able to hear it for yourself too. You would hear what I can hear; that your music is mediocre noise, papered over with your magic. There’s no secret involved.”
Thrash seemed even more nervous at that. One hoof rose and stroked the guitar a few times, as if Thrash was considering picking up the case and hitting Octavia with it. But he lowered his hoof, the action seeming to calm him. “Fine, whatever. Guess you’re just real strong.”
“I suppose.”
“Well, then let me ask you this – why’d you say you’d oppose me?” Thrash scowled. “So you don’t like my music. So you think it sucks. Who cares? I don’t like classical stuff; you don’t see me calling you out.”
“It isn’t that your music is not to my tastes. It is that you lie about it.” Octavia shook her head. “I am the Court Musician. I consider it part of my job to make sure that the music – in the Court, in this city, insofar as I can manage it, in the country – is good, and honest, and true. Those who like music are—“
“So? It’s not your problem! You and your stupid audience doesn’t even like metal!” snapped Thrash. “You could have just left me alone!”
“First of all, I’ve no opposition to that genre, only bad performances within it,” said Octavia. “And second, it doesn’t matter. What you do disgraces metal music, which means it disgraces music in general. As far as I am able, I will not permit that.”
The two stared at each other. Thrash brushed his guitar case again, but again let it remain resting on his back. “Disgrace? How’s that?”
“You present mediocre music as virtuosic brilliance. You lie. You put no effort—“
“Hey!” Now Thrash sounded genuinely angry. “Don’t you dare say that! I’ve put in plenty of effort.”
“Do you honestly expect—“ Octavia paused, forcing herself to lower her voice. She represented Luna; she couldn’t be getting into shouting matches in public. “Do you expect me to believe that you practice frequently?”
“I put the effort in… in advance,” said Thrash. “But I worked very hard. I promise.”
Octavia frowned, trying to figure out what that meant. “…you mean, when you learned the Euphoria spell.”
“When I got that ability, yeah. Took me a year to get that.” Thrash stuck out a hoof. “And it wasn’t just pretty little exercises in some nice heated practice room. I had to go on a whole big journey. You don’t know what I went through, what I had to do. I had to make sacrifices. Do things you’d never understand…”
Octavia thought. “I see. You did something you regret, something you’re ashamed of. And now you can’t bear to get off of your current course, because it would mean it was all for nothing.”
“Did I say ashamed?” snapped Thrash. “No way. I’m not ashamed of anything I’ve ever done.”
“Given some of the things I’ve seen you do, that’s a problem,” said Octavia.
Thrash shook his head. “Look, what do you want from me? I want the exact same thing you do; to get to the top of the profession. I tried it your way, with… with practicing, and stuff… and it didn’t work. If my way, which is just as hard and taxing as anything you do, works for me, that should be good enough. Not like I’d expect you to understand—“
“Understand what? Wanting to take a shortcut, cut corners, in order to progress in our profession?”
“Well, I wouldn’t put it like that, but—“
“I can understand it.” Octavia took a breath. “I—“
She heard a pony move slightly besides her, and remembered with a start that Paperweight was still there – silent, like the trained page she was, but still present. She hesitated. She had never told Paperweight this; it had never come up. It wasn’t like it was a secret, but still, if Paperweight knew, she might disdain her, and—
Stop it. I don’t lie. If Paperweight changes her opinion of me because of this, it is her right… although I hope she won’t. She’s a good friend. I’m sure she won’t. And I—
“Yeah?” sneered Thrash. “How? How can you understand?”
Octavia shut her eyes. “I made the same decision, once.”
Thrash said nothing for a moment. “Excuse me?”
“I was a virtuoso-level cellist, but I could not get the venues I desired.” Octavia opened her eyes and caught Thrash’s gaze. “I was unwilling to wait and take the usual routes, beginning in school auditoriums, parks, and mid-tier weddings, slowly gaining more and more prestigious postings, eventually playing before the nobles regularly after… oh, ten, perhaps five years of effort. A rich, powerful pony told me that, if I did him some political favors, helped him obtain the services of some other ponies, he could get me what I wanted. Performers in the grandest halls, before the grandest audiences.”
Octavia paused for a moment before continuing – she still hated to think on this, but she had to keep going. “It was the worst decision I ever made. Make no mistake, the things I was asked to do were evil. In the end, I was stopped by a friend, before I could do permanent harm. I will forever be grateful to her for that… and for her subsequent help, in saving me from the consequences of my own folly, and rescuing me from the grip of that other pony. I could not have redeemed myself and risen to where I am without her aid. But yes, Thrash, I know plenty about the temptation to cheat to become an accomplished musician.”
Thrash was staring at her with an odd mix of dread, guilt, and… a shadow of hope? “Is there a point to this stupid story?” he managed.
“Two, actually. The first is, I know how hard it is to resist that sort of temptation. And I know that, just because a pony has fallen into corruption does not mean they are irrevocably wicked. If you… if you turn from your path, abandon your attempts to use magic to brainwash your audiences, and begin seriously trying to become a skilled musician, I will help you if I can. I am not a metal musician, but I can assist you in finding teachers, a physical trainer, obtaining scores… whatever you need. If you are willing to make a sincere effort, then I can help.”
“And the second point?”
“I realize now that my friend was right to save me from myself. But I also understand that she was absolutely right to stop me from doing harm. If you continue on your path… I will stop you. Whatever it takes.” Octavia’s eyes flashed. “I keep my word now. You may rely on that promise.”
Thrash stared at her, and for a moment, Octavia thought she saw something in his eyes. He looked like he wanted to say something. He backed up a step, as if trying to stall for time, and –
And he tripped and fell on his rump, his guitar case bouncing against his head. He winced, and when he opened his eyes, the moment was gone.
“Yeah, yeah. I’ll think about it. You tell a pretty good tale; you shoulda been a bard,” said Thrash.
“Thrash—“
“Seriously, I’ll think about it!” Thrash began to trot off. “No worries, I’ll even let you know before I schedule any other concerts. See you, Tavi.”
Octavia didn’t even bother correcting how he pronounced her name. She just sighed and watched him go. She wanted to go to sleep.
But there was something else she had to do first. “Paperweight?”
“Yes?” said the page.
“I’m sorry. For not telling you earlier, about what I did—“
“Why would you?” asked Paperweight. “I haven’t told you every bad thing I did either. Ugh, can you imagine how awful that conversation would be?”
“I… I should have told you, though. You see, I—“
Paperweight moved in front of her. “Hey, wait a minute. Whatever it was that you did, you wouldn’t do it now, right?”
“No—“
“And the pony you were going to do it to, she forgave you?”
“Yes—“
“Then I don’t need to know.” Paperweight smiled. “You’re a really good friend, Octavia. You’ve really looked out for me, and I trust you. You don’t need to tell me about it if you don’t want to.”
Octavia blushed slightly. “I…”
“Of course, this also means I don’t need to tell you about things like the time I ate all the ice cream in the castle.”
“I – wait, all of it?”
Paperweight grinned. “Well, not by myself. Somepony bet me it couldn’t be done, so I put together a big team of a bunch of pages and cleaning staff, and we listed all the kitchens and made a big strategy plan, and…” She chuckled at Octavia’s expression. “Feeling better?”
“You always know just what to say.”
“Hey, what’re friends for?”
“…was that ice cream story real?”
“Oh, maybe…”
Back in the castle, Paperweight said goodbye to Octavia, then began to trot off to Viceroy Night Light’s quarters.
First, she had to put in for time off that night. That way, she could go to the concert with Octavia. As long as nothing big was scheduled that night, she’d be able to take it off, so she just had to hope Viceroy Night Light hadn’t set anything big up for that night. After that, she had another thought, but she really had to take care of this first.
Paperweight entered Night Light’s office and saw Bellemane sitting at the desk. “Hi Bellemane! Filling in for the secretary?”
“Yeah, he was sick or something, so Night Light drafted me,” grumbled Bellemane. “I had plans, too. What do you want?”
“Oh, I just need to fill out a request to take a night off,” said Paperweight. “Octavia has an extra ticket to a Frederick Horseshoepin concert, and she said I could have it!” She let out a small ‘squee.’ “Do you have the paperwork?”
“Sure, here.” Bellemane slid a form over to her. “Wow, that sounds like a big concert.”
“It’s huge!”
Bellemane looked away. Paperweight thought she was scowling, but she dismissed that thought – she couldn’t conceive of Bellemane as being anything other than happy for her. “There’s nothing big going on tonight, right?”
“… let me check.” Bellemane flipped through the scheduling book. “Nope, nothing tonight. You’re in the clear.”
Paperweight filled out the form. “I’ll just wait for him to check in for the day, and…“
“I can give it to him. I’m here anyway,” said Bellemane.
“Really? Thanks! You’re the best.” Paperweight grinned. “I gotta go. See you later!” she scampered off.
Bellemane watched her go, then thought for a few moments. It’s not fair that she’s so favored. I do all the work that’s asked of me, but she makes me look bad by always going the extra mile, and somehow she gets all the big friends… it took me a year to get this posting, she got hers right out of the gate, and she’s friends with Luna’s musician and a famous metal star and… it’s not fair.
She tossed the request form into Night Light’s ‘in’ box. Instead of giving it to him now, like Paperweight had expected, Night Light would get it later that night… after Paperweight was already hours late for her shift. It would be judged to be Paperweight’s own fault, of course, for waiting so long to submit the request that a simple misfiling had prevented Night Light from getting it in time, and she could hardly protest that Bellemane had screwed up, when Paperweight was technically supposed to be the one who submitted it anyway. Paperweight would no longer be the golden mare, and maybe Bellemane or one of the others could move towards her spot.
“Now that I think about it,” she muttered, “There is, in fact, a really big meeting tonight… oh well. I’m sure the Viceroy won’t mind if you completely miss it.” She smirked, then returned to her work.
Paperweight entered the library, thinking with uncharacteristic seriousness.
She was good at noticing little details – in fact, it was her special talent. So she’d noticed a few things about Thrash. Whenever he’d seemed nervous, he’d calmed down after stroking or touching his guitar case. That was odd. And when he’d talked about his spell, he hadn’t said that he’d learned any magic (even though that was the language Octavia had used), but that he’d ‘gotten’ it.
Is it his guitar? Is that what’s letting him do what he’s doing? Is it ‘giving’ him his magic?
She didn’t want to tell Octavia her suspicions until she confirmed things; otherwise, she’d just worry her friend, and that would be a mean thing to do. But she was reasonably good at research; again, her talent for noticing details helped. So she’d just hit the books for a bit before bed. She wasn’t a musician at all, and she was aware that she was somewhat useless in any sort of music battle against Thrash, but she wanted to help. And this was something she could do, to make the life of her friend a little easier – and wasn’t that what was really important, anyway?
“Hi!” she chirped to the librarian. “I want to look up a magic guitar! Can you help me?”
“She’s nuts,” muttered Thrash. “She’s completely nuts. What can I do about that?”
I can’t give up now. Not after all I did. What does Octavia know?
“She can stop me. She—“
Talking to her was a mistake. What did I want to hear? Some way to beat her? No… I was just being a coward. Hoping she could be talked around, or that she’d show me why this wouldn’t work and give me an excuse not to do it. But there wasn’t any point. My plan is solid. I can beat her, and the way there is through the nobles.
“But what if she’s with them when I try?” Thrash muttered. “I can’t get through that thick skull of hers!”
Thrash found himself in a random club. Some band he didn’t know was playing; the crowd seemed to like it, which just deepened his scowl. He knew they’d never dance like that for him, if he didn’t use magic.
I went through all that to get this spell – and more! I practiced. I did things Octavia’s way. I practiced loads, I worked really hard, but never got anywhere. Nopony listened to me. Like she’d understand that.
Thrash nodded, glancing out into the club. No, he’d never gotten anywhere. Eventually, he’d had to admit it. But he wanted to be the best. He wanted to ascend and be known as a great music star, and he wouldn’t let anything stop him. He’d had to look for alternative routes. Couldn’t she see that?
It’d had taken a month of book study, of reading ancient legends in dusty tomes, and a year of journeying around the country to track down something that could help him. And, of course, when he returned, he found that nopony had waited for him. They’d all moved on. He’d returned triumphant, only to find that his family acted like he… like he abandoned them, or something. As if it would have been better if he’d locked himself in a room for a year to practice scales!
I gave up all that. My family, friends, marefriend, they all moved on. They all forgot me. Now Octavia wants me to give up the one thing I got in exchange? She has no right! I’ll do it my way, I’ll win, and I’ll take the Canterlot music world by storm!
The guitar, of course, was what he’d gotten in exchange. It was said to be one of the most powerful magical artifacts of its era, able to overcome the defenses of even the most able and skilled mages. It had been the perfect instrument for him, though it had cost so much to retrieve it. Supposedly, he should have been able to use it to take over anypony. Octavia was… different somehow, yes. Stronger. But he trusted in his instrument. If he used it right, if he figured it out, he could beat her. He had to beat her.
Still, she was frightfully strong, she’d beaten him at his best…
No. My new plan will take care of that. She’s only one mare; I can control an army. I can win by force of numbers. And without her in my way, nopony else will dare raise a hoof against me.
“Hey!”
Thrash turned to see the pony with the microphone pointing at him.
“Looks like we’ve got a celebrity! Hey, Thrash! Want to give us a riff or two?”
Thrash looked around. The crowd had about fifty ponies in it. Throw in four bouncers, a bartender, a couple miscellaneous staff, the other band… and the Guards. Four Guards were in the crowd. Probably off-duty; at least, he hoped they weren’t allowed to party like that while on-duty. But still, they were Guards. That meant they were tough.
If I can’t beat them, I’ve got no hope against Octavia. But still he tensed. He didn’t need to do this. He could leave. Bury the accursed guitar, get a real one, and…
“Come on, Thrash. Thought you’re the best in town?” called out the pony with the microphone.
Thrash scowled. “Yeah. I am. And I’ll show you.”
He got up on the stage. Forget it. This’ll be my test. If I can take these idiots, I can take the city. If not… back exit’s there, unguarded. Alright. Let’s go!
He took out his guitar, brought it up, smiled, and began.
”Whoa-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh…
He began to cast his spell as he played, letting the magic flow through the guitar and into the room. His horn glowed brightly, but nopony cared; even the Guards were going to be more focused on his guitar than his horn, at least at first.
He began to sing, feeling unusually moved.
”My little world!
And he jammed away, summoning his drums and rapping away at them, and using his guitar to drive it. He grinned, then began to sing, pouring all his frustrations – with Octavia, and all the others who were in his way – into his music. Even his guitar receded in prominence as he sang.
”My sight. My sound.
My struggle – for shared ground.
It’s safe, to say, they’ll try to take from me.
I’m just another colt for them to break down!
”Steeped in denial, the daily grind.
Dream of a world for ME and my kind.
It’s safe, in the, alternate reality—
So stick your standards where the sun doesn’t shi-i-i-ine!”
He began to sing more aggressively, focusing more on his words than on magic for the first time in a long time. He was tired, tired of mares like Octavia who just criticized, who got in his way and made his sacrifices meaningless. He was done with them, done listening to them. He’d just run them over if he had to.
”They’re for themselves, it doesn’t matter what they say!
Promise the world, then take it from you anyway!
They’ll break you down, making your vision fade away!
It’s time to go! GET OUTTA MY SPACE!”
And now he began to pour on the magic. He grinned, feeling the crowd falling under his spell. This was how it should be. This was how it had to be.
”Welcome to a world where the air I breathe is mine.
Nothing to overwhelm me and nothing to cloud my mind.
Be anycolt, do anything I’d ever want to try.
Time doesn’t exist here: my name will never die!
My little world… my little world… my little world… my little world…”
The crowd was clapping and cheering. Thrash grinned as his guitar hummed under his hooves. Why had he ever been afraid of Octavia, anyway? He still had more than enough power to deal with all those who got in his way.
”Explain the reasons? Explain the rhymes?
That’s not required, it’s out of mind.
It’s safe to try, no need to justify
Just follow me here at the end of the LINE!
”They’re for themselves, so they don’t matter anyway!
Promise the world, then take it back another day!
And break me down, making my vision fade away!
I’m done with them, so get off of my case!”
The Guards, too, were tapping their hooves and bouncing their heads to his beat. Thrash grinned. This guitar really was unstoppable. He cranked up the energy again, wanting to make sure they were entirely under his control:
”Welcome to a world where the air I breathe is mine.
Nothing to overwhelm me and nothing to cloud my mind.
Be anycolt do anything I’d ever want to try.
Time doesn’t exist here…
Slip into a world where the air I breathe is mine.
Nothing to overwhelm and nothing to cloud my mind.
But come with me into it and you know what you will find.
The greatest music in the world: it will never die!
My little world… my little world… my little world… my little world…”
He went into an extended solo, walking about the stage, continuing to play. He felt like he was in the groove, syncing perfectly with the audience. Certainly they were all clapping and cheering in perfect unison. Audience, band, bouncers, Guards… all of them. Could even a freak like Octavia fight this?
”My little world… my little world… my little world—
They’re for themselves, it doesn’t matter what they say!
It’s time to go! GET OUTTA MY WAY!”
He leapt off the stage and was caught by the crowd, which bore him around the room. He grinned, letting the crowd carry him. Now this was how the world should work!
”Welcome to a world where the air I breathe is mine.
Nothing to overwhelm me and nothing to cloud my mind.
Be anycolt, do anything I’d ever want to try.
Time doesn’t exist here…
Slip into a world where the air I breathe is mine.
Nothing to overwhelm and nothing to cloud my mind.
But come with me into it and you know what you will find.
The greatest music in the world: it will never die!”
He screamed, and the crowd screamed with him. They were ready to go take on the city for him. He laughed in exultation, and the guitar seemed to laugh with him. All was right with the world at last.
“You!” he yelled at a Guard. “Know of any big concerts tonight? Important ones, lot of nobles?”
“Uh…” He spoke slowly, as if from a distance, but did speak nonetheless. “Frederick Horseshoepin… famous pianist… nobles, Courtiers, important ponies…”
“Then that’s the plan! We’ll go to the venue, deal with Freddy, and then, when the nobles show up…” Thrash grinned. “We will give them a show they will never forget!”
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You've successfully set up a immensely interesting story between a cellist and a maid fighting a evil rock magician musician with a horde of zombies. That alone deserves props. Hehe anyway really looking forward to the next thanks very much for sharing.
Aww, I feel sorry for Thrash now. It's not his fault he's not very good, and is just the right kind of pony for the Alicorn Guitar to corrupt. (I'm going to keep calling it the Alicorn Guitar until we find out more about it next chapter.) It is very good of Octavia to try to help him, considering the similarity in their circumstances.
The upcoming confrontation keeps looking like the final duel in Guitar Hero III in my mind. It probably won't look like that, but I'm sure it will be epic nonetheless. This was an awesome setup, and I can't wait for the next chapter!
Lots of plotting going on. Very nice. And I appreciate Octavivia's confrontation of Thrash as well.
oh screw you Bellemane. Crap like that is why Night Light likes Paperweight better.
1825098: I wonder if they send bad pages to the griffin kingdoms? :-)
Beautiful stuff! Your ability to weave calm moments in between the escalating tension is truly a great thing to see.
Ahem
Sorry I knocked out the pretentious twit. Awesome story, loving the concept and Thrash is a fantastic villain. the insights to his character just draw me in deeper and deeper.
Its not quite the right style of music but you've gotta fit ;You're Gonna Go far Kid; somewhere into this it seems to fit Thrash well and the music video with the magic guitar fits even better.
1826493: I wanted to, but I believe RDD has already called that song for use in the Gala, and sung about Trixie. Since that's a full-fledged canon episode (and written by the head of the Lunaverse to boot), it takes precedence over this.
There is one more song coming up, though, and I think it'll be a pretty cool number. :-)
Huh, very interesting insights here.
I mean, DANGIT STOP MAKING ME FEEL SORRY FOR THRASH!
Okay, Bellemane? Screw you. Seriously. Paperweight works her flank off, which is why she's where she is... and do I sense a small parallel between them and Octavia and Thrash?[/legit_question]
This, this right here is a sentiment that I tend to hold as very true, and rather wish was more widespread. Too many people it seems get caught up in the notion of PUNISHING criminals. While there is a fair amount of merit that those who have done wrong should make restitutions, there is a fine line between justice and vengeance.
The simple fact of the matter is that if a former criminal is no longer doing those wrong things, if they are no longer a threat to the public good, there is little sense in locking them away. Granted such a dismissal can be easily abused by those who are unrepentant for their crimes, but still, I would always prefer to err on the side of forgiveness. Better to let some of the guilty walk free (so long as they are mostly harmless) than to needlessly persecute those that would actually heed the wakeup call and take the opportunity to become better.
Perhaps it's naively idealistic of me to think that way, but it is still how I genuinely feel, and doubly so I think for a world setting like Equestria.
...
Beyond that, I very much enjoyed Octavia struggling with whether or not she should help a seemingly repentant Thrash. She makes some very fine points that he's given her no reason to believe his sincerity, or even want to help him if it were true, yet she can't bring herself to fully turn her back if there is even the slimmest chance of helping him the way others have helped her. I think it shows remarkable growth on her part as a character, and I couldn't be more pleased to see her displaying such difficult resolve.
...
On a slightly more critical note, I couldn't really get into the song. It's not that lyrics were bad, and they even worked to delve deeper into Trash as a character, fleshing out his motives and desires, but well... I think you as a writer are always at your best when the focus is on the music alone without the "vocal" accompaniment. You have a superb ability to capture the emotional context of music and some how translate it into the form of written words. I don't really know how you accomplish that seemingly impossible feet, but I do miss it whenever you take the EASY route and instead just link to a song. The result just always feels empty by comparison. For lazy hacks like me, that might be the only way to pull it off, but you... you are so much better than that.
I'm not saying you should abandon all pretense of lyrics in your future endeavors, but don't focus on them so much, don't let them overwhelm the underlying beauty of you ability to turn music into words. If there are to be lyrics let them serve as the punctuation that accentuates the scene, not the body of the scene itself.
Oh, Thrash is definitely off in his own little world...
Interesting. I wonder where exactly Thrash got that little diddy(at the crossroads somewhere?) and what, exactly, he payed for it...
"Then again, Octavia's a great cellist, and Thrash is a hack with a magic instrument. Who shall be the victor?"
The Answer is: John Cena, because Cena always wins LOL.