Echoes from the Past (Part 2)
The funeral was in three days.
It was so dumb.
It was so unbelievably, incredibly moronic that there were just no words to describe it, but Octavia found the attempt to find one rather cathartic nonetheless.
‘Idiotic, moronic, blithely imbecilic, nonsensical, doltish, ludicrously puerile, undignified, moronic-’
Wait. Damn. She’d used that one already.
Her father had gotten drunk and just flat out walked off the edge of Canterlot whilst picking a damned fight. Her father for Celestia’s sake. The stallion, one who she would have deeply suspected was a gelding if it weren’t for the damning proof that was her existence, who was so quiet and distant and reserved, for whom every carefully measured response was silently thought and weighed.
Her father, for whom love was a carefully rationed, finite, resource, doled out only in the most extreme of circumstances.
There was a rumour that, when Octavia was born, her father didn’t put down his newspaper for the entirety of the... session? Procedure? Regardless, not once did his knotted brow unfurrow, putting his newspaper down only when he had absolutely finished with it to grab another one, gently and with practiced efficiency, from the pile beside him.
Over the eight hours he did not nap, snooze, sleep or slumber, nor did he grab a book. He just perused his pile of papers, patiently listening to the screams of his belaboured wife.
Even when Octavia was finally brought forth into the world he kept his attention firmly on his paper. He asked the nurse two questions from behind his printed shield.
“Gender?”
“Why, it’s a beautiful baby girl, sir.”
An affirmative grunt, though it may just have been a stifled cough, and the next question was asked.
“And she is?"
“A strong, healthy Earth pony, sir.” The nurse had said, though really was more of a question, apparently, with doubt just now creeping into her perkiness.
“Pity.” Her father had muttered, putting the paper back onto the pile and finally, now, trotting over to his wife and giving her a single peck on the forehead.
Fortissimo Crescendo... That’s what the epitaph would read anyway, but it would always be her father’s grave.
The stallion who had literally killed himself out of stupid, moronic, imbecilic pride for his beloved daughter, a powerful emotion he had rationed out, it seemed, far more frugally than any other.
Well, technically, he had wandered blind drunk off the side of the mountain, but that didn’t sound nearly quite so poetic.
Octavia needed to grieve. She needed time for solace, for introspection, for- for whatever the bereaved do in this situation, truly.
So why did she find herself waiting, dead on time, in front of the door that Princess Celestia had instructed her to the day before?
Surely the princess would have understood a delay - she had no doubt in her mind of that - so her reasons were obviously her own.
It would have been infinitely more helpful, however, if she had simply known what those reasons were.
She knocked on the door, twice, and listened to the flurry of activity behind it with faint amusement.
The door swung open, almost jerked off its hinges rather, by a stunned purple unicorn about Octavia’s age, with an explosion of stars for a cutie mark. Octavia noted it, quickly, before making eye contact, lest she be considered ogling.
There are many problems with a society that tattoos such intimately useful information so close to such a usefully intimate location.
She needn’t have worried, it seemed, as Twilight scanned her own cutie mark.
“Treble clef? I’m sorry, I was expecting a Miss Octavia- You would be?” Twilight sighed bitterly.
Octavia fell back on her political training. Namely, hiding bewilderment with courtesy so as to not betray that you have no idea what the hell just happened; “Octavia, yes. Octavia Philharmonia, pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“But- treble clef!” Twilight blinked, pointing an accusing hoof at Octavia’s rear.
“Is my cutie mark, yes, and perhaps staring and pointing at my rear may give ponies the wrong impression.” Octavia raised a single eyebrow gracefully, a practiced gesture to focus on hiding how badly she wanted to fall to the floor giggling right now, even as an usher stared and scurried off, at the absurdity of her-
Well, this could be called a job interview of sorts couldn’t it?
Twilight, for her part, dropped her hoof and her jaw, blushing beet-red. “Oh! Oh, no, I’m so sorry, please, come inside, I have tea brewed and- Rushing Caravan, actually- uhh, I was just expecting, well...” She trailed off, pointedly looking at the door frame as she led Octavia inside a room that felt at once large and small.
“An octave signature?” Octavia mused as she surveyed the room she was being led into. It truly was a very big small room, which sounds quite perplexing until any thought is put into it.
The room was quite large in terms of actual floor space, all of it being open plan including the little tea room set up, consisting of a countertop, a fridge and a kettle on the stovetop, but it had that ambience that small cramped studies often do. It felt very close, and warm and snug, definitely snug, despite the room easily being able to accommodate a two pony apartment.
Above all it was filled with shelves of organized papers, research notes and sheet music, a veritable armory of musical instruments hanging off the back wall, and a sunlit dais in the middle for a pony to perform on, leaving the walls of the room accessible at all times and all equally acoustically viable to listen from.
Octavia had never felt so at home in her entire life. From the glances and curt nods Twilight kept giving the room as she pottered about, the musician suspected the bizarre little mage felt similarly, which was insurmountably relieving.
Even if they were to have a hostile work environment, at least it was one heck of an environment to be hostile in.
“Actually, I was expecting a tenor clef.” Twilight grumbled as she poured the tea. Octavia sniffed the air, slightly- perfectly steeped Rushing Caravan? Oh, Celestia, the only thing that could make that tea better was-
“I also managed to scrounge up some macaroons from the castle, if you’d like?” Twilight turned with a tray of perfect little confection biscuits, seemingly gleaming in the sunlight.
“Twilight, if you can look past the fact that my cutie mark is, in fact, stupidly wrong, I think we are going to be very, very good friends.” Octavia declared as the tea and biscuits, or ‘bikkies’ as her father had insisted on referring to them, were served in generous portions. Thankfully Twilight poured, as hooves made such a mundane exercise, well, often entirely less than ‘mundane’.
“Well, it is stupidly wrong, I mean, at the very least there’s the octave clef, which now that I think about it is even in your name so-” Twilight’s indignant rant came to an abrupt halt.
“An octave clef would make a lot more sense, come to think of it...” Octavia trailed off thoughtfully, even as Twilight stared at her dumbfounded, flummoxed and otherwise just plain baffled.
“Friends?” She squeaked.
“I mean, I suppose a tenor clef could also- Oh? Oh yes, friends, of course. You have strucken my cold, cold heart with hot, delicious tea and biscuits, I fear that we must be friends now. I’m afraid that’s just one of those things we shall have to live with?” Octavia grabbed a nearby bowstring, using it to flick a macaroon off the plate and send it arcing through the air to land daintily on a hoof, at which point she proceeded to alternate between nibbling and sipping, oblivious to Twilight as she was, lost in her own personal refreshment rapture, until she heard the gasping and wheezing.
The earth pony shot her a concerned glance, wondering where Twilight had gotten the brown paper bag from. She chalked it up to magic.
“Twilight?”
"I"
Gasp
“Just give me a mo-”
Wheeze
“Moment, I just-”
Crackle
“Need a moment to-”
Gasp
“Breathe.”
Octavia had seen some pretty major panic attacks before. Vinyl used to get them pretty badly before going on stage, no matter the crowd, and the performer’s asthma had really not helped those situations.
In a way it was incredibly relieving for Octavia to be put into the position she was in now. It was familiar, it was practiced, it was rote. She just needed to work out what would distract Twilight the most so she could occupy the forebrain whilst the hindbrain processed the buildup in peace.
Copious amounts of alcohol were not situationally appropriate.
“You know what, Twilight?” She ventured, acting as if the panic attack totally wasn’t happening. The last thing a panicked person wants is attention drawn to themselves, after all.
Wheeze
“What?”
“I think my cutie mark isactually an octave clef.” She was deadly serious and thoughtful, drawing Twilight away from her current thoughts to dwell on just how stupid this was.
“Your mark is quite obviously a treble clef-” Gasp!“- though.”
“Ah! That may be the case!” Octavia declared triumphantly, “but we all know that an octave clef is two interlocked treble clefs, right?”
“R-right.”
“Cutie marks are symmetrical, are they not, same on each side?”
“They are, yes.”
“So, I submit to you, then, that my cutie mark is two treble clefs tied together with an octave!”
Twilight thought about it for a moment. She nodded seriously pondering the implications, considering them, weighing them up.
She then promptly fell onto her back laughing her plot off, legs free wheeling in the air.
Octavia feigned being hurt, quite half-heartedly, “Come now, really, I thought that was rather quite clever!”
“It was the dumbest brilliant thing I’ve ever heard!” Twilight practically howled, flopping onto her side with a manic grin. She suddenly frowned, a tight worried little number, and rolled back onto her stomach, staring at Octavia in wonderment.
“You did say friends, though, right?”
Octavia’s eyebrows shot up in genuine shock.
“Is that really what had you so panicked?”
Twilight grumbled, a deep roll at the back of her throat, not unlike the noise small children make when they know they’re caught but don’t quite want to admit it just yet, the similarity not being purely coincidental either.
“Does the idea of having a friend really panic you so much?”
“Yes!” Twilight blurted. “I mean, then you have to constantly worry about whether you’re not spending enough time with them, or too much time, and even then when you’re talking to them do you make eye contact, because if you do it too much you seem creepy, but not enough and you’re vacant and uninterested, and then do you talk to them? I mean, you want to talk to them, but then you’re always worried about saying the wrong thing, and then they’ll never want to talk to you again, which just sort of wastes all that time you spent wondering whether you were spending too much or too little time with them!”
Gasp!
Octavia worried for a moment Twilight had started freaking out again, a not unfounded fear in the least, but took a relieved sigh when she realized it was only because Twilight had said that all in one breath.
Whoah.
Octavia tried to think of something, anything to say. She settled on what she’d already worked out.
“Whoah.”
“Yeah.” Was the heartbreakingly sullen response, particularly for a mare who had, seconds ago, been rolling ‘round laughing at some terrible wordplay.
Okay, Octavia admitted, it was totally brilliant wordplay, but still.
“Well, no matter what, you’ve got me,” Octavia declared, offering Twilight a hoof off the floor, a hoof which was gratefully accepted, “because we’re stuck together until this whole research deal is over, right?”
“Y-yeah...” Twilight stammered, a spark re-igniting behind her eyes as she straightened more confidently, “Yeah! Yeah, that’s right, we’re in it for the long haul, aren’t we?”
“I couldn’t leave you if I wanted to.” Octavia grinned, thinking fondly of Vinyl.
Twilight looked suddenly panicked again. Octavia sighed and pulled her into a tight, chaste hug. “It’s just a joke, Twilight. I was being sardonic.”
“Fuh-” Twilight stuttered, “Fu-fu-fuh-”
“Hmm?” Octavia made a note to future self- If it’s something that Vinyl would do or say? Don’t do that around Twilight Sparkle..
“Physical contact,” the unicorn wheezed, “It burns!”
Octavia glanced at the mare slowly wilting at her side.
Oh dear.
“Be right back gotta shower for a quick moment, bye!” Twilight blurted out before Octavia slumped to the ground rubbing her eyes, leaning against a weight that had simply turned into a flash of light.
Oh, dear.
She eyed the remaining macaroons and the teapot.
At least there was some justice in the world, she grinned.
“Okay-” A slightly soggy Sparkle said within seconds upon her return, glancing at the crumb spattered Octavia who shot back an awkward glance of her own, “- we’re probably going to have to lay down some ground rules.” She punctuated the remark by summoning a checklist and quill, tapping it lightly.
Octavia’s grimace flicked, almost imperceptibly, around the corners at the implied half joke. An olive branch extended- without actually touching hooves in the process, of course.
“First: No touching. Ever. I know, I know, it’s a weird rule,” she glared off to the side, rolling the words in her mouth as if they tasted bitter to her, “but it’s a pretty important one to me.”
“Well, how do you get around that one?” Octavia tried to ram down the curiosity in her voice, let only the sympathy show, but she wasn’t entirely sure if she succeeded. Twilight either didn’t notice or didn’t care.
“Unicorn.”
“Ah.” Octavia nodded.
“Second rule; You’re free to help yourself to anything here, it’s your workspace too, but I request that you keep everything organized. If I suspect you of creating clutter just to mess with me I will vapourize you.”
“What do you deem an acceptable level of clutter, then?” Octavia flinched
“Well, you don’t have to be as neat as I am, of course. You are the arts student.” Twilight made a dismissive gesture with a hoof.
“Art student.” She kept her tone neutral, if slightly deadpan.
“Yes, of course, because art students don’t have the same mental and organizational discipline of hard science students. You’re more eccentric!” Twilight stared at the ceiling in thought for a moment, allowing Octavia a chance for a stealthy glare, “Ooh, that’s a good word, I’ll have to remember it for scrabble with Spike later.”
She bit back a retort. On the one hoof, that was in no way a little offensive a generalization. On the other, though, the oblivious unicorn seemed to be smiling at her gratefully now, and honestly just seemed to think she was being accommodating.
Oh dear, she honestly didn’t think that was a horribly offensive generalization?
“Well,” Octavia tried to think less about that, “What's the third rule?”
“Third rule?” Twilight cocked her head, “Why would there be a third rule?”
“There's always a third rule! It's like, a rule all its own.”
“The rule of there always being a third rule?” Twilight raised her eyebrow this time.
“Close enough.” Octavia nodded, “So, what is it?”
“Well, as a matter of fact,” Twilight sighed, “there is a third rule; Our work here comes first. No late night cram sessions when we're due to work with each other the next morning,” Octavia swore Twilight winced in pain as she said that, but couldn't for the life of her work out why, “always be here ready and in prime condition for maximum efficaciousness.”
“What if I'm hungover?” Octavia joked.
The 'joke' part of that seemed to fly well and truly over Twilight's head, as evidenced by craning her neck up- Or maybe that was just Twilight looking down her nose at the earth pony momentarily.
“You drink?” The words were heavy with accusation.
“Well, just a tipple.” Octavia shrugged, “When I go out with friends, sometimes.”
Twilight's eye twitched, slightly, as she stared at the musician open-mouthed.
“Just wine!” Octavia hastened to add, “and sometimes a Cosmopolitan. Or whiskey on the rocks. Sherry's nice too...” She trailed off, her shoulders slumping with each new addition.
“You realize it's poison?” Twilight gaped. “Not just that, but highly flammable. I use it around the lab frequently-” Twilight declared, locking her laser-glare on Octavia, “as disinfectant, because it is very, very good at killing things.”
'Think, Octavia! You can't win with logic-Not only is this mare obviously a superior debate combatant, but, well, there has never been anything particularly logical about drinking. Some piece of obscure trivia, perhaps? That might distract her, certainly, but it's a bandaid- Where do the two intersect?'
Octavia squirmed in her seat and sweated visibly for a moment as Twilight patiently awaited rebuttal.
'Ah-ha! Historical quotes! Obscure enough to provoke thought, poignant enough to dispel argument!”
“All medicine is poison,” Octavia straightened and recited, matching Twilight's gaze with a steely one of her own, projecting confidence she didn't quite feel, particularly after learning point two. “What matters is the dosage.”
Twilight seemed to slump, all hostility, intentional or not, leaking out from her tense withers and down through her hooves.
“Yes, you're quite right, I'm being overly dramatic again. Maybe. To be fair it really is good at killing millions of tiny things at once.” Twilight nodded, massaging the bottom of her jaw in thought. “But it just, well, it just gives me the heebie-jeebies.” she punctuated the remark with a shudder, “killing parts of your brain like that. Why would you want to do that? For all intents and purposes you're destroying aspects of yourself, which begs the question of how much of your personality is linear or a culmination of experiences, which again is affected by being so drunk you don't remember the night before, but if you're still conscious, is it truly, say, you experiencing that night-”
Octavia sat patiently whilst Twilight babbled. She was starting to pick up on just how this mare worked, now, though-
She drained the last of her tea, a tragic shame for a good cause that she couldn't savour the rest of the exceptional brew, and surreptitiously clinked her empty porcelain cup against the saucer.
Twilight's ear perked and flicked towards the sharp clink.
“Oh, dear, I'm not being a gracious host at all am I? Would you like a refill?” Twilight sighed and mentally gripped the teapot again.
The musician graciously, and gratefully, accepted.
Octavia sipped and met Twilight's expectant gaze again, smiling gently.
“Should we get on to business, then?” she suggested, “Or would you rather discuss the nihilistic ramifications of insobriety?”
The words had the intended affect; Twilight's eyes twinkled at the prospect of getting to work, visibly. Her pupils even dilated a little.
Octavia had seen that happen to Vinyl's eyes before, a few times, whenever the other mare got an adrenaline rush. She could barely stifle a giggle at the idea of-
Actually, no, the idea of the purple pony getting an adrenaline rush from bookkeeping seemed oddly fitting.
“Right! Well, where should we start?” Twilight clapped her forehooves together and giggled gleefully, like a foal on Hearthswarming.
“Well, I suppose I would like to know more about what you're doing? Celestia only truly broached it in the broadest sense.”
“Right!” Twilight jumped up, bustling about the deceptively-large room and grabbing a bunch of scrolls, “Composition! We should go over what I've come up with so far, and why I'm doing it.”
“Right.” Octavia agreed, the ghost of an amused smile appeared as she watched Twilight dance across the shelves, grinning and enthusiasticly and waggling her hips in time to an unseen beat-
Octavia blushed, blinking suddenly. Oh, no, no, no. That was not allowed. This mare was far too high-strung. If she were a bowstring, like the ones she had used years ago, Octavia would have thrown her away immediately for fear of snapping the moment any tension was placed on it.
Even then she wasn't afraid the bow was capable of nuclear fission.
Still, as Twilight bobbed about, humming tunelessly and burying herself under scrolls, Octavia looked desperately for physical flaws, anything she could focus on to distract her from something as stupid and invasive as Celestia thrice damned attraction.
Her mane was too straight and orderly- But she grinned at the mental image of the daft unicorn taking to it with a scalpel and a protractor.
“Hmm?” Twilight murmurred, the scrolls dropping momentarily, “Don't be silly!”
'Oh dear, oh dear, I just said that aloud?!' Octavia panicked 'Am I truly that distracted?!'
“I use a slide rule, much more efficient than a protractor. The scalpel is a good idea, though.” Twilight nodded, before getting back to scroll searching.
That was just too much. Octavia felt the butterflies in her chest hammering at that. The butterflies were obvious very confused because what Twilight had just implied was obviously just very silly and not heart-wrenchingly adorable at all.
Oh, dear.
“There!” Twilight finished, dumping the scrolls at Octavia's hooves, snapping her out of her reverie. “This should be enough to start!”
A few of unfurled enough to reveal notes and bars. Sheet music? They must be, but they all had the names of spells, from the few titles Octavia could see, let alone the ones she could recognize.
“So, I hear you play the bassoon?” Twilight beamed. Octavia nodded. “Excellent! Bass, bass is crucial for this. Well, Octavia, how would you like to be the first earth pony magician?”
Octavia considered it carefully.
“Wouldn't growing a horn be rather painful?” She posed as diplomatically as she could whilst a rational part of her psyche, afflicted with the mental image, crawled into a deep, dark spot and rocked back and forth, crying.
Twilight's eyes widened in horror.
“No! No, that's- Trying to do that is immoral and more than slightly tribalist!” Twilight hissed, glancing at the sun out the window, barely even wincing despite looking directly at it.
She continued slightly louder, “And that would be a Very Bad Thing that I would never think to attempt because earth ponies are pretty tops. They're, they're quite swell, really.”
'Well', Octavia stared blankly, 'I'm horrified and more than slightly morbidly curious, now.'
“No!” Twilight continued explosively, whipping back around to stare at the other mare with wide eyes and a chesire, toothy grin, the bright cheery look only find on madmares and nightmares- Octavia couldn't quite decide which, or both, Twilight classified right now- “No, I'm planning on manipulating the ley lines and natural thaumaturgic energy of the natural pony anatomy and channel it musically much like a unicorn directly harnesses the fey forces with their horns!”
“Could you repeat that again please-” There was a loud squeaking sound as Octavia's chair scooted back a few desperate hops, “-but slower?”
Twilight sighed.
“I'm trying to allow earth ponies and pegasi to be able to manipulate natural thaumaturgic potential in the same way that unicorns do.”
Octavia blinked. She understood all those words individually, sure, but somehow they became strange and alien lumped together like that.
Twilight sighed and rolled her eyes again.
“I'm using music to channel magic in other tribes.”
Oh.
Oh!
“So, this music?” Octavia gestured around her.
“Yes!” Twilight declared triumphantly.
“This music right here is actually spells.”
“Yup!” Twilight bobbed her head.
“You composed all of these?” Octavia made a sweeping gesture, incredulity dripping off her face.
“By candlelight, mostly.” Twilight sighed. “Some of them may have wax stains on them, I’m afraid.”
“Then why do you need me?” the musician - though she was starting to feel creeping doubt whether the title was a fair distinction between the two of them right now - practically blurted.
“Because I’m a unicorn.” Twilight sighed again, deeper, pacing the room now. “Whenever I try to sing these-” she glared at Octavia as if daring her to comment on her singing. She continued when none came, “- It just focuses through my horn again without me realizing. Sure, there’s potential in teaching foals how to cast magic through music, which is an achievement unto itself, but the goal was to be able to let pegasi and earth ponies experience what magic is like! So, I need somepony who isn’t me."
“I do have that rather elusive trait, don’t I?” Octavia nodded.
“Oh, goody, I do oh so love sarcasm,” Twilight replied
Oh, is that how she’s going to play is it?’
“What a clever response.” Octavia stared back, equally emotionless.
Both of them engaged in a tense stare-off, waiting for the other to crack. Ultimately, they both broke out into giggles at the same time.
“I’m hoping that the use of instruments will act as a sufficient focus,” Twilight continued, coughing slightly as she regained her decorum, as Octavia’s mother would have put it, “A talented vocal artist pegasus, with their natural magical aptitude for manipulating air currents, would have been perfect for this.”
Octavia just sat patiently, a questioning glance. The word hung in the air between them, unasked but still evident.
But.
“But that might have made the vocal chords the focus. I don’t want untested magic to be inside somepony.”
“Well, that’s just common sense, I suppose-” Octavia noted Twilight’s sheepish glance.
“Well, hindsight is twenty-twenty.” The unicorn coughed into a hoof, “I learned my lesson, though!”
Octavia raised a hoof and opened her mouth as if to reply. Octavia lowered her hoof and closed her mouth.
Octavia decided that some things are best left unknown.
“No pony was hurt at least?” She asked instead. Twilight didn’t seem to hear. She was busy pacing, and muttering something.
“No pony was hurt, though?” she asked a little louder, forcing the panic out of her voice.
“Hmm? Oh! No, no-one was hurt. Badly. At least, nothing permanent. Physically permanent.”
‘Well, that’s reassuring.’’
“Hmm? I’m sorry,” Twilight turned desperately to Octavia, “Nothing bad should happen this time!”
‘I just said that out loud again didn’t I?’
“Oh hey! You talk to yourself too!” Twilight beamed, her smile far, far too wide, a corner of her eye tugging slightly, “See, we have so much in common, you should totally not leave me! You’re the best candidate so far, I swear, you’re the only one I’ve found remotely likable!”
Well, that caught Octavia off-guard.
“I thought this position was strictly professional?” She accused, beating back down the blush and playful flutter of her stupid, dumb, moronic, fickle heart.
“Oh, yeah,” Twilight spat out distastefully, “but everypony else knows it. They’re all like ‘oh hey Celestia totally thinks I’m so great, why don’t you appreciate her, hey we should go out and be totally great together’ and it’s so- eugh.”
“Eugh?”
“Eugh.” Twilight confirmed.
“So you rather me, who just accepts that you’re far superior.” Octavia grinned.
“Yes!”
There was a long pause. Octavia became absolutely poker faced, watching the unicorn’s relieved expression morph into one of absolute horror.
“No!” She blurted out, “That’s not what I meant at all! I mean, I don’t think I’m better than you, or that you’re worse than me, we’re just different, and different doesn’t mean bad, and I-” Octavia’s sly grin was answer enough for Twilight. She deflated, her head hanging a little limply as she just stared apologetically at Octavia.
“Okay, I totally walked right into that one didn’t I?”
“Humility is not one of your strong points is it?” It was an observation, not an accusation.
“No, but magic is. So-” A bassoon was levitated over to Octavia, who sat up a little straighter to hug it to her.
Octavia looked at the bassoon warily. “What am I playing first?”
“Well, let’s try,” Twilight flipped through the sheaf on the music stand, “a little bit of something simple.”
“What will this piece do?” Octavia was definitely wary now.
“This one should just reheat your beverage of choice.” Twilight stared at the parchment. “Though I’m not sure. If the key signature is a little off on this one it may end up boiling your saliva.”
“Oh.” The response was like the music; rather flat.
“Don’t worry, I’m about ninety five percent sure this is right.”
“Ninety five percent sure?”
“Well, eighty to ninety five percent.” Twilight amended with a shrug.
“Delightful.”
‘Princess Celestia better include hazard pay...’
“Oh, don’t worry, she is. Or, I should say, will. Sorry, I'm used to addressing that in the present tense."
“Did I just do it again?!”
“No, no, that’s what every other applicant asks at about this point.” Twilight sighed.
“So, for this spell, there were other applicants and you still don’t know if it does what it’s meant to?!” Octavia was now utterly enthralled. Whereas before her survival instincts had been screaming in her ear now they seemed content to pull up a chair and just observe, perhaps even learn something.
“Hmm? Oh, no, I just mean ever. This isn’t the first time I’ve needed test ponies, you see? So few ponies value scientific discoverythese days, though, it seems.” Twilight sighed again and gazed out a window longingly.
“I value room-temperature bodily fluids, actually,” was the muttered reply.
“So?” Another curious tilt of the head back towards Octavia. “Aren’t you going to play?”
Good question.’
Octavia readied the bassoon and played, tentatively at first, before losing herself to the music. It was simple, certainly, but it had a strength to it, a solidness, and she lost herself to this point of time and space as the music flowed through her, igniting her core, funneling through the bassoon until-
She blinked, realizing the piece had finished. She felt momentarily disappointed and blinked at Twilight, who had come around full circle with her pacing, who replied with a sad smile.
“I know, it doesn’t feel long enough does it?” Twilight gulped at nothing, swallowing the lump in her throat, “The problem is that if it goes on for as long as it feels it should, the cup boils over.”
I just totally forgot about the grievous bodily harm, didn’t I?’ the mare sat in mortified shock. At least there was fresh tea, now, to-
“Pffffft!”
The tea exploded from her lips in a fine misty vapour. She clinked the cup back onto its saucer in disgust.
“That was awful. Atrocious even.”
Twilight zipped over, her brow knotted tight, a magnifying glass levitated to the rim of the small porcelain cup.
She lifted the cup to her lips and-
Pfffft!”
Both ponies started desperately pawing at their tongues ineffectually, trying to rid them of the taste of the not-tea.
“Okay, just as I suspected,” Twilight lisped, moving her numb tongue as little as equinely possible, revulsion flashing across her face whenever she got so much as a hint of the aftertaste pang back.
“You suspected that would happen?” Octavia sprayed crumbs, having turned to crunching down the last macaroon left from earlier she’d been saving just in case. It did a decent job of masking the foul, bitter aftertaste..
She made a note to thank her past self.
“Well, feared, really.”
"You let me- Why would you- What is wrong with the music to make it do that?!?!” Octavia demanded with another cascade of crumbs. A speck landed on Twilight’s nose.
It spoke volumes of the magnitude of her discomfort that she barely even noticed, wiping it away disdainfully with the back of a hoof.
“It’s not the music!” she implored, “It’s the instrument. It’s totally wrong for you.”
“But I’m a bassoon player!” Octavia rocked out of her seat, shouting now, “It’s what I play.
“Yes, and you play it very well,” the unicorn agreed with a vigorous nodding of her head, sending her neat bangs into a momentary flurry of apologetic disarray, “but it’s the wrong instrument for you. It poisons what you play. Actually, from the way you hold it, I don’t think you’re meant for woodwind at all.”
Octavia just seethed, staring at the ignorant, naive, stupid, frustrating- oh dear, she was doing it again wasn’t she?- unicorn with barely-restrained apoplexy.
“Have you tried...” Twilight browsed the wall brackets around them, selecting her weapon of choice from the armory, “perhaps something from the strings family?”
“I used to play strings.” Octavia grudgingly admitted, “but they’re hardly an earth pony instrument.”
Twilight grinned at Octavia with wide-eyed, bushy tailed, genuinely excited glee, even going so far as to bounce between back hooves a little, not unlike a child that’s had far too much sugar and is being offered the prospect of more. She had a delighted grin without any malice hidden behind all its good intentions.
You know, the kind of grin that instills the foreboding sense of impending doom on whomever receives it?
“Isn’t that exactly what we’re trying to do here though?” She pointed out, lifting a hoof almost trembling with excitement. “Make earth ponies do unicorn things?”
“Well, yes, but-”
“Well! Let’s get to it then!” She effortlessly levitated an improbably-heavy looking cello down from the wall.
“A cello? I used to play the violin but-”
“Oh, I think you’ll pick this up very fast.” Twilight nodded again, like a bobblehead with a loose spring to Octavia’s eyes, “Truly, try it!”
So Octavia played.
It felt so natural to her hooves. The bowstring gripped with a simple enchantment, the the other hoof dancing across the frets, hitting the occasional sour note but ultimately?
It was perfect. Like wearing a cozy pair of slippers on a cold winter morning.
“I told you so.” Twilight beamed brighter than a lighthouse, her teeth polished to a shine by glistening smug.
The pieces to a puzzle were falling into place, a puzzle Octavia hadn’t been able to see until now. A chain of dominos, each individual a simple idea on its own, with no greater meaning, but when lined up-
They come crashing down.
Spectacularly.
“Have you composed anything non-magical?” Octavia lined her hoof back, daring to lay the final domino in its line.
“Oh, yes, of course. Whilst I was still practicing. Quite interesting, really, how music is just applied mathematical formulas for the most part.”
“Applied maths?”
“Oh, yes. I don’t even know what it’s going to sound like until it’s finished!” Twilight chirped happily, cheerfully oblivious to the dangerous tensing of the muscles in the other mare’s neck, “Fascinating, truly.”
“You’ve only been studying music for a few weeks, too?”
“Oh, I’ve always enjoyed it, certainly, but I haven’t taken it up as a hobby until fairly recently.”
"Show me." Octavia demanded.
“Excuse me?” The unicorn took a step back, a hurt look evident for Octavia to see. Her heart thumped in protest.
“Show me something you’ve composed.”
“Oh. Err-”
A few pages of complex sheet music were put in front of Octavia.
“You sing the high notes, I’ll accompany you.” She all but growled. Twilight nodded, confusion guiding her actions more than rational thought.
And so Octavia played.
And so Twilight sang.
And so it was beautiful.
The musical notes tinkled and swirled in the air around them, pirouetting around the ears and parting with the briefest of kisses, promises of notes to come, of rises and falls and melodic rapture.
And so it was beautiful.
And so Twilight sang.
And so Octavia was forced to endure her life’s passion, her spark, her profession, her drive, her very being... be mastered flawlessly, and with unrivalled and unparalleled elegance and perfection, by the unassuming little mare beside her who had taken it up as a hobby some time this year.
And so Octavia played, tears in eyes, unable to resist the song’s demand to be heard, its quality a magic unto itself.
And then it finished, with a gentle and unassuming flourish.
It wasn’t perfect. Perfection would deny all that came after it the hope of rivalling its beauty.
Perfection was a flaw unto itself. If it were perfect, to many it wouldn’t have inspired such a want for greatness, a want to strive for that same wonderful rapture. How could they? It had already been achieved, and all future attempts would be meaningless.
To Octavia’s ears, though, it was excruciatingly perfect.
Her father had gotten himself killed over his pride for her the night before and this is what she was stacked against?
Twilight watched as the earth pony hugged the cello close to her body defensively. She watched as the mare’s anger melted, cascading off her and replacing it with eerie calm.
She mistook this as a sign to be incredibly relieved, as obviously everything had just turned out alright after all.
“So-”
“Can I keep the cello?” Octavia asked, her words drenched in syrupy sweetness.
“Ah, yes. Yes, by all means!” There was uncertainty now, just a little.
“Copy of some of the music?”
“Ah, the foal level spells are here, the piece you just played is all yours now and-” she scrabbled around in her little paper piles, relaxing in the mindless task, “I have some experimental compositions I haven’t tried yet combining earth pony music and unicorn jazz.”
Octavia skimmed the ‘spell book’. She glared deadpan at the unicorn.
“You do realize that most unicorns don’t learn these until at least about their middle to late teens, surely?”
“Really?!” Twilight gaped, “But they’re so practical! I don’t know how I could live without my Mending spells.”
“Mending spells.” Octavia’s voice wavered slightly, “You mean the kind that great craftsponies can spend their whole lives trying to master? You learned as a foal?”
As a foal Octavia had been desperately trying to even work with a bowstring, denied any chance to compete or perform with unicorns, shot looks whenever she tried one would give to a crippled child, or a disabled one, because she didn't have a bone growth jutting from her forehead.
“Of course! It’s really not that hard, once you get the hang of it.” Twilight implored. That dreaded doubt was back, certainly.
"It’s really not that hard, once you get the hang of it". Like a bowstring. Like the bloody bowstring of the cello Twilight had just happened to figure out was perfect for her? From a glance and two weeks of experience?!
Oh, but sure, that was all it took for the unicorn to master everything Octavia had struggled her entire lifetime to achieve, and then surpass it. What's worse, she did it so dispassionately, like it was just another math problem to solve.
What's worse was she was right. Apparently she had solved it.
Is there anything,” Octavia snapped, “that you can’t do so bloody perfectly?!”
Silence. Piercing, all consuming silence, broken by the sound of a single teardrop.
Twilight stared at her hooves.
“I don’t think I’ll ever have a pony like me. Not if they don’t need me for something.” She said quietly.
Octavia stared, slack jawed, filled with impotent and directionless rage, no longer with an outlet to ground itself upon. She stared at the pathetic figure slumped before her, the beautiful and wounded unicorn who moments ago had been full of childlike innocence and enthusiasm, and she paused.
She moved, as if to reach out to Twilight, to comfort her, to tell her that everything would be okay.
Octavia still had her grip on that accursed booklet of perfection, though, in that hoof, and the movement caught her eye. She stared at it and she remembered.
With a short, conflicted scowl, she placed all the notes and paper into the cello case, rested the instrument delicately on top of it, and walked defiantly out of the room.
Vinyl opened the door to her flat, toothbrush hanging limp to one side of her mouth, shades slightly askew.
“This better be good since you got me before I have my energy drinks.”
“It’s noon.”
“Yeah, I felt like getting up early for some practice. Still getting the taste of hangover out of my mouth. All this natural light is not helping, Octy,
“I would like to take you up on your longstanding offer, my friend,” Octavia growled, ramming a pile of sheet music into Vinyl’s white chest, creating a sort of polka-dot pattern as the unicorn clutched it in bewilderment. “Let’s go get thoroughly smashed, hammered and downright sozzled."
Vinyl’s eyes softened, toothbrush levitating out of her mouth momentarily. “Look, if this is about your Dad, drinking isn’t going to help, you know.”
Octavia blinked. She’d almost completely forgotten about-
No. No she hadn’t.
She’d just rammed it back to the farthest corners of her mind and told it to shut up whilst she focussed on other things, and she had officially run out of things to focus on.
The floodgate burst, suddenly, as Vinyl stared at her in sympathy, leaning forward as Octavia collapsed into her shoulder.
“Octavia,” Vinyl muttered into her ear, “I love you, but I am way too hungover right now to deal with this.”
“Oh.” She muttered, taking a step back, choking back sobs. “I’m sorry for pushing my burdens on-”
Vinyl took a step to the side and gestured with her head, toothbrush flopping in the process.
“Nah, it’s chill, just meant I reckon I got a head start on you anyway. Come in, I’ve got, uh, scotch and cola, rum and cola, gin and cola,” she grimaced, “sorry I ran outta juice, same goes for the vodka actually.”
“Whiskey.” Octavia muttered as the door closed softly behind her, more for Vinyl’s hangover than out of politeness she suspected.
“On the rocks, like always, coming up-” Vinyl canted up to the little wet bar she had set up in her apartment.
“Neat, this time, thank you.”
The toothbrush fell to the floor with a squishy clatter.
“Whoah. That bad huh?”
“You wouldn’t believe.” Octavia grumbled. “I’m going to have to attend my father’s funeral sometime very soon, inevitably blame myself for his death and have a lot of soul-searching introspection on what he actually meant to me, most likely with Princess Celestia in attendance knowing I’ve disappointed her student, still paying her respects to a stallion whose last act was out of sheer pride for me and-” Octavia turned about as pale as the unicorn beside her, looking for all the world like sisters for a moment, “-oh Tartarus that sounds infinitely worse now that I say it out loud. Leave the bottle, please, I’ll owe you immensely for it.”
Vinyl shrugged slowly, wincing visibly even beneath the shades as she concentrated her magic on pouring a drink. “I’s cool, can’t stand the stuff myself,” she finished pouring the drink and replaced the tooth brush, “just keep it around for you anyway. Gimme a good vodka any day. Heck, even gimme a terrible vodka any day, even the cheap stuff has, whatcha ma call it, ah, character, that’s it.”
“Ta.” Octavia nodded before downing the shot in a single quick gulp, tossing her head back so as not to let the burning fire linger any longer than it had to to serve its foul purpose.
“Vinyl... Vinyl are you crying?” She asked tentatively as she refilled her glass, slugging another sickly shot.
“Tears of pride, Octy. Tears of pride.”
“Huh. Maybe when I asked you out, I should have challenged you to a drinking contest.” The bottle was eased of its liquid burden, a burden that Octavia gladly assumed.
Vinyl tapped a hoof to her chin, rolling the brush in her mouth thoughtfully, and finally mused, “You know what? That might have worked. Prize could have been sloppy makeouts if you won or something, and I might have been drunk enough to go through with it.”
A smirk, now, and nopony could smirk like Vinyl. The quality of smirking is inversely proportional to the levels of shame one possesses, and Vinyl had long since been running on empty.
“Would have been heck’a awkward the next morning though.”
A fine spray of whiskey mist erupted from a very-wide-eyed Octavia.
Vinyl went on as if nothing had happened, “Then again, would our friendship have been worth one night of drunken, experimental sex? I mean, I would have gone all at it, you know. I mean, I’m straight, sure, but if I’m going to make an exception it’s gotta be worth it right?”
Her best friend stared at her silently, expression completely neutral.
It was still neutral when she picked up the bottle of whiskey and proceeded to take desperate gulps from it, though she did wince a little in the process.
“I hate you so much right now.” She grumbled, hiccuping slightly.
“You only hate me ‘cause you love me.” Vinyl grinned, spinning on her hooves to face back towards the stairway.
“Yes, yes I thought we had established that. What you just said was utterly cruel.”
“True.” Vinyl turned to Octavia with a serious expression, “but I figured you’d want something else to brood about, something you did right.”
And with that she trotted back up the cheap stairway.
But not before Octavia got a few key glances at her ample, bobbing posterior.
That whiskey bottle didn’t know what hit it.
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That entire sequence with Octavia and Twilight was stunning: it's as though they have a knack for pushing each other's buttons. And Twi's plaintive wail --
-- was darn near heartbreaking.
Ahhh, this is great, though some parts seem to be missing or repeat themselves. I got the gist of it though! And awh, the scenes with Octy and Twi were simultaneously cute and kinda heart wrenching at the end. :(
Can it be? An update? To one of the three twitavia stories on this site? I need more. This has so much potential. Please keep writing.
Seems to be a few bits that have something left out? Also, one section somehow got duplicated.
“But I’m a bassoon player!” Octavia rocked out of her seat, shouting now, “It’s what I play.
“But I’m a bassoon player!” Octavia rocked out of her seat, shouting now, “It’s what I play.”
--
“What will this piece do?” Octavia was definitely
may
“Oh.” The response was like the music; rather flat.
“Don’t worry, I’m about ninety five percent sure this is right.”
--
There was another bit that felt like it had a chunk left out, but I can't seem to find it at the moment.
Something went very wrong in here. We're missing a bit. Possibly more than one.
Well that was quick! I didn't think you'd publish this tonight. Well done!
3273114 3273152
Cheers, thanks for bringing it to my attention.
Google Docs was... Awful. Like, spectacularly, truly awful. I had to spend a solid fifteen minutes just combing over a copy paste.
3273164 Let us know when the bugs are ironed out. I figure I'll just re-read then ;)
3273163
I didn't either, but then I realized now is when the site is probably busiest and, well, the comments are always something very, very nice to wake up to, so I sort of put my all into getting a solid piece up and ready.
I realized FicFerret can go a few days between internet usage, so I figured it was worth the risk, which is a shame.
There appears to be several sentences missing in between these two.
Missing a space
Probably needs a dash and an end quote at the end
Bah, I'm a slow reader.
3273177
Just fixed that, and an upcoming bit.
It killed off one of my favourite lines in this chapter! So I'll copy it here, as well, for those who missed it.
3273172
Shoooooouuuullllld have gotten it. Maybe.
Probably.
The damn trouble of the thing is if I was able to find anything left I would have found it already.
3273197 G-docs really can butcher things on download. You might want to re-save the doc without comments and pull it down to FF from that. I've had the best luck with that.
I do believe you accidentally a piece.
Edit: Nevermind, looks like you already got it.
3273250
Try refreshing the page
Fun chapter, though there are some repeated sentences and otherwise confusing or minor mistakes. All in all its not hard to read and the material is worth working through to get the point, but a little red lining would be much appreciated by many readers, I'm sure.
3273289
Try refreshing the page?
Hopeful grin
Duplicate text. GDocs have gone crazy it seems.
3273292
Dear god I feel like that proverbial kid with his finger in the dyke.
I spend weeks fixing all the punctuation nuances in the GDocs file, fiddling with all the words and meanings and sentencing until it's just so, and the thing that fucks me over is simply moving it.
I wonder if I need to bubble wrap it next time, like the postage system suggests I should.
3273308
Or maybe sealed in an air tight container with no air in order to prevent word* rot.
* Play on a joke from a programming book about how code seems to break down and develop new issues over time.
3273470
Ah! A programmer, you would know my pain.
It's like that feeling you get after meticulously making sure every semicolon is in the right place, parsing it, it working, putting it on a USB to show to a colleague-
And having it somehow now be irrevocably broken from the copy paste as you desperately fiddle to fix the damn thing as someone stares at you in bemusement.
Exactly like that.
Please don't hit me if I've used 'parse' wrong.
3273021
Poor Twi. I know that feel.
Is this intentionally doubled? edit- Oh nevermind you got that. ^.^;
Also, Twilight for best horrifically awkward nerd girl.
double mix up in this paragraph... Confused me to no end the first time I saw it.
3273537
I think I already got that one, if you'd be so kind as to refresh the page?
And fun story: Originally had planned her to be a lot more super-competent-serious and deadpan and snarky, that side of her personality was going to be emphasized. That's what was storyboarded.
I have a strict rule on myself, though:
1) Always know where the story is going, and plan ahead.
2) One that plan is made, throw it out the window, ignore it, and write the characters.
So what happened really nicely here was that Twilight was, well, this aspect of her, which I'm also completely happy with, but I'm absolutely stunned at how different she was to what the plan was. She completely took over what I meant for her, because she wouldn't let herself be anything other than fully Twilight, and I feel I've done her a lot more justice writing her how's she's sort of asked to be written.
No, I'm not schizophrenic, and neither am I.
3273550
I swear to god, this better be the last one-
MrNumbers removes the blight with Cleansing Flame
3273578 Man, GDocs is screwed in this concept. Although the mix up in a few areas, I really liked the chapter. This was the first TwilightxOctavia fic I read, and it is quite promising. I look forward to later chapters.
3273573
I know exactly how that feels, I started writing from a transition over from roleplay so, for me it's always bee an excerise of making the characters and letting them live through the story. They often change a lot on me through the telling and sometimes completely wreck what I have planned. And yes, I noted that you were already told so I felt a little dumb on that one.
What is going on?! First Nights Favoured Child then Sharing the Night and From Scratch now this? Why are all the best stories coming back at once! I love it!!!
Ah Mr Numbers,
Simply LOVE IT, no more words needed.
Saw some minor errors but I suspect they have already been fixed as I was reading which means I'll have to go and read the whole damn thing again...such a chore.
As always need MORE
3273290 I do apologise, i hadn't figured that you may have made revisions by the time I decided to post what I wrote.
by the end of this tavi and twi are gonna be nuts, utterly and truely bonkers
You mentioned Rushing Caravan and I was forced to make myself a pot of Russian Caravan.
It's the most expensive leaf tea I have in stock, damn you.
This is just so goddamn funny. I like this portrayal of Twilight as an insane, brilliant genius, who isn't always aware of just how brilliant she is, and doesn't yet realize that what she really wants is friendship.
No run by the pre-readers this time?
Poor Octy though, and Twilight. Both so awkward. 
Dat, well, everything. Twilight you adorable little sue-blobby. Anything you can't do bloody perfect indeed.
Ah, their first meeting.
I suppose it's also possibly their only meeting before now
(though I suppose the spell they apparently composed together would imply they did continue the study. So I suppose you can call it their first and last informal meeting). I mean it's likely Twi made a big enough impact on her life that Octavia would remember her. Got her into the Cello that she's famous for in the first place.
It'd be sad if it continues that Twi keeps their relationship strictly professional after Octavia's outburst and exit. Also possible that Twilight's repressed the event, or at least thinks only on the magical breakthrough she had. It does seem that Twilight doesn't remember Octavia from memory.
I'm really liking how adorably naive Twi is, even in the past. Criminally so. The oblivious genius. Though I suppose it'd probably get her in trouble more if pony's didn't fear incurring Celestia's wrath.
)
And that terrible feeling she has. Feeling so distanced from others because of how different... how special she is. Or like a tool, to be used at others convenience.
I also like the idea that Twi can easily bring out the inner potential of others. Perfecting ponies, I guess you could say. (Also yes, beautiful singing voice, Rebecca Shoichet does a great job with that
Also Octavia's inner musings are...amusing
And her sense of humour is fun times
That octave clef joke
Nicely done, fun fun fun. I'd actually never see the "double treble clef" octave clef, or if I have, it's only been once. I'd only even seen it as the treble clef 8.
And poor Octavia. Finding out everything you've worked so hard accomplish was outdone so easily, especially by someone your age. Twilight's a genius in all senses. And then that Octavia has her own talents improved by said lavender unicorn, as equally easy. I guess she'd be caught feeling somewhere along the lines of, as said in the chapter, Is there anything,” Octavia snapped, “that you can’t do so bloody perfectly?!” (PS: missing the quotation mark there), and "Why couldn't I have met you sooner". I mean, she realizes quickly that she has no reason to be angry, frustrated sure... I guess maybe she's angry at the situation. But at least she didn't take it out on Twilight further. Though walking away without saying anything else might not have been. Leaving Twi alone after having her, what I'd wager, first 'friend' explode at her for being herself, and then leave.
If things continue as they have been, then next chapter I guess we'll finally see what Octavia sent to that receipt, and how she reacts. The spell needs them to think about each other, but yeah, it doesn't mean she remembers Octavia, the test subject, just Octavia, first chair strings of the philharmonic.
Unless of course you're done with the past-time chapters, and now it'll be present day adventures as Twi recalls her past. Will she be reluctant to accept someone who hurt her in the past. I mean, Octavia seems to all up for it. It seems she finds Twilight to be frustratingly fascinating, curiously cute, and quite quirky.
Also, while it doesn't really take away from the story, there are a lot of double spaces (or lack of any), missing quotations or tiny misspellings.
But yes, great work. I enjoy the way you write the characters. They're fun, and the humour is nice. It's been enjoyable to reread (which I do when a chapter doesn't come out for a while, which is to say I've read it again again twice since the last chapter came out)
I just realized this is your longest chapter by quite a couple thousand words.
I hadn't really realized the length since it was so fun to read
Also I wrote out quite a bit in this comment, whoops
3275020
Next chapter is part three of the flashback for the exact reason there; this is already the longest chapter so far. Originally it was meant to be completed on this one, but that would have made it double in size.
It does explain quite neatly a lot of things though. By 'neatly' I mean 'in a manner as emotionally destructive as possible'.
Wow, great job capturing the impossibly talented young Twilight.
I love this portrayal of Twilight as a mad genus, unaware of her superlative abilities and her extreme social awkwardness.
Oh Octavia, I hope this all works out. You are much too sweet a mare to befall such a fate.
Loved how you did Twi and while the line was indeed sad is also felt off.
That line.
3273103 What are the other two Twitavia fics? I know about Private Gig.
3273103 there are more?
Oh. Oh no, Twilight, Sweetie, Honey, you don't want to go there. Trust me, I've been where you are (still go there occasionally) and it is not good. You gotta focus on the positive, as difficult as that can be at times. It's... you just gotta... dammit, Twi, now I'm going there too...
...
Sigh... Well done, you magnificent bastard, well done.
3278326 The other is concerto al tramonto
3279089 concerto al tramonto and private gig
Damn. Octy's in a hell of a state of mind, ain't she?
Fuck the whiskey. Get Everclear. THAT'LL knock the shit outta her.
~Skeeter The Lurker
3289385
What do you think Vinyl was brushing her teeth with?
3289425
... Yes.
~Skeeter The Lurker
That was good
I do hope that thing will perk up for Twilight and Octy 
The scenes with Vinyl were funny and enough of a dose of the daaaws 
I can't wait to see what happens next 
I WANT MOAR SOON 
If that is alright with you 