Prologue - Downbeat
Signals Crossing
A story by Madame Ponka
Melody
I woke up late at night in a cold sweat. It must’ve been around one in the morning. The only sound I could hear was the rustling of the covers and my own whimpers. The darkness and silence enveloped me in a large canopy of somberness. As my thoughts came back to me, I got up from my bed, threw on my robe, and trotted to the kitchen.
A glass of water and a hay sandwich later, I was sitting on my couch going over the music I had been working on. I couldn’t go back to sleep no matter how hard I tried. I don’t know what had caused me to act like this. I had no nightmares or worries. Today was just like any other day. I got up, composed some music, played the cello for hours on end, got myself some hay fries and a salad for dinner, and went to bed feeling satisfied. What, then, was the matter with me?
I pushed this riddle away, brushing it off as just another symptom of my medication. My sleep schedule would be thrown off track, but it’s not like I had anything important in the coming weeks. I stared at the music I had been working on for the past few days. Horizon of the Sea was the working title. Nothing much aside from a simple nocturne. It was coming along well, for the most part. I must admit that despite what happened about half a year ago, it gave me a lot more time to work on my compositions.
It began to rain gently about three hours into my studies. I breathed deeply as I heard the relaxing pitter-patter on the roof. It helped to ease my anxiety on this strangest of nights, and it ignited a spark of inspiration inside of me. The rain was like an instrument in and of itself. It filled the room with a loud echo, vibrating in my mind. Within an hour, I had finished the first draft of Horizon of the Sea. Must be a new record for me.
I looked outside of my window, letting myself get lost in the darkness outside, occasionally spotting a sliver of rain falling from the heavens. I decided to grab my cello and play the entirety of my new piece. It was very short , lasting only about 2 minutes. As I moved the bow back and forth, every note echoed in my mind like fireworks. The combination of the slow elegy with the sound of the rain brought together seemed to create a haunting duet with an ordinary pony, and the slight tendrils of nature itself. The song needed some work, but I was satisfied with the results. I played it a couple more times before the warm embrace of sleep took over me.
~
Heartstrings
One day at a time. That’s how I get through it all. One boring, uninteresting, and dreary day at a time. And I wouldn’t have it any other way. I get up and work at the local coffee shop for 8 hours. After that, I head to Ponyville Park and work on my music. Finally, I make my way home and read books (that most ponies would find so boring) for hours on end until I end up crashing from too many energy drinks. Occasionally I’ll decide to spice things up and I’ll get the opportunity to play for a small audience as part of a musical showcase during holidays and other special events. It’s been this way for the past four years. For somepony who plays a unique instrument, I’m basically the most boring pony you’ve ever met. I don’t exactly aspire to be anything great. I just want to be a simple mare who enjoys playing a lyre. Is that really too much to ask?
Today was going to be one of those days. I got to the coffee shop a bit earlier today, mainly because I wasn’t in the mood for breakfast. Blueberry waffles get a bit old after a while. The early morning fog drifted around Ponyville like a thin cloud of smoke. There was barely anypony out on the streets. I decided to take my sweet time trotting through town, taking in the strangely hypnotic atmosphere. The dew drops on the grass tickled my hooves as I strolled through town. I breathed in the sweet air and sighed. Another day, another bit, I suppose.
I arrived at the Cafe Luminico and opened the door. It was empty aside from a single pegasus mare behind the counter, one of my fellow baristas.
“You’re quite early, Lyra. Any particular reason why?”, she asked me.
“Oh, hey Borealis,” I said, giving a fake grin. “I, uh, wasn’t hungry for breakfast this morning.” I hung up my jacket, put on the blue apron, and stood behind the counter, waiting for the next poor soul to come in and suffer through our mediocre mochas.
“Who’s got the morning slot?” she asked, fixing her mane in the reflection of the coffee machines.
“Dawn Rush. Also known as Stallion-Who-Plays-the-Acoustic-Guitar Number 438,” I said rolling my eyes.
“Hey, if it’s any consolation, Whinnyhooves gave you permission to play your cute little lyre again later tonight. Wanna do it?”, she said, my ears perking up.
“Well, aren’t I just special,” I said.
“...Yeah, I’ll do it.”
I giggled out of excitement.
Borealis chuckled. “That’s my Lyra. You’d never pass up an opportunity to play your dinky little instrument.” She went to start up all the little brewing gadgets.
I was shaking with excitement at this news. I was so overwhelmed with happiness that I had barely even noticed the unicorn stallion at the counter. He cleared his throat and I jumped.
“O-Oh!” I said with a tinge of embarrassment. “W-Welcome to Cafe Luminico! What would you like to order…?”
~
Melody
I woke up around two in the afternoon. After taking my medication, feeding my cat Rondo, and reading a couple music history books, I finally gathered the courage to go outside. I slung my saddlebags over my back and trotted out the door.
The sun was already setting by the time I trotted into town. Its orange glow streaked across Ponyville like a warm embrace. Ponies were already heading inside their homes to perform their evening duties. I, however, decided to grab myself a couple scones at the Cafe Luminico. I never cared for their coffee, but oh sweet Celestia, their scones must come straight from the heavens.
I trotted through the double glass doors of the cafe and ordered my usual three scones and a glass of iced tea. I sat in one of the comfy chairs by the window while I ate my meal. The cafe was always packed at around this time. I looked over to the stage and saw they were getting ready for tonight’s performance. Judging from the wooden stool they had and the absence of her at the counter, I assumed it was that minty green unicorn with the lyre. I grabbed my music and began working on it. The lame jazz they always had playing over the speakers helped me focus a bit. Then, after a while, a lime green stallion trotted up to the microphone.
“Alright, alright! Now, I know we’ve all been waiting for a while now, but I think we’re finally ready. Fillies and gentlecolts, from this very town of Ponyville, the one and only—Lyra Heartstrings!”
The entire room erupted into applause as the minty green unicorn took the stage with a golden lyre in her hoof. She trotted up to the microphone and began to speak.
“Thank you, everypony. Now, you may know me as that one mare who serves you coffee every morning, but little does everypony know I play a mean lyre,” she said as the audience laughed. “Now, before I begin, I’d like to thank Cafe Luminico for allowing me to play here, my boss Whinnyhooves for running this fine establishment, and my fellow co-workers for making sure I don’t blow up the damn coffee grinders.” The audience laughed even harder. What a comedic genius, I thought sarcastically.
As she finished her comedy routine, she sat upon the stool, levitating the lyre close to her, and closed her eyes. The lights dimmed and the entire audience fell silent. After a long pause, she began to play her opening piece. Everypony became mesmerized from the first pluck of a string. Her first piece carried a slightly somber tone, riddled with multiple low and long notes. I watched from a distance with fascination. She played with genuine emotion, something I had rarely ever seen in a musician. With every pluck of a string, a spark of longing went off inside my mind. She seemed to move slightly with every note, tapping into her wondrous talent. It wasn’t a long piece, but it left an enormous impact on the entire audience.
Finally, with one final, long note, the song concluded. Everyone including me erupted into thunderous applause. She smiled as she took in the wonderful reception of her performance. After the applause died down, she began her second piece. It was a lot more lively than the last one. She strummed her lyre at a fast, yet delicate rate. The magic streaked across each string as it was plucked with expert precision. There was a tinge of excitement in the air as the extravagant march was played. Lyra had a cute smile on her face as she moved along with the music. I felt myself bob my head a little, and I couldn’t help but smile as the song continued. When the song suddenly concluded, the audience gave another enormous round of applause before she began her third and final piece.
The third piece was a mix between the melancholy longing of the first, and the extravagant excitement of the second. It blended together almost perfectly, making the two songs come together as one. I felt exhilaration brew up inside me, along with a wondrous desire. I began to tear up as the piece moved along with a wondrous grace. The song concluded with a couple long, drawn-out notes that brought the entire three-act symphony to a chilling closure. The entire audience got up to their hooves and gave. one last applause. The cheers were almost deafening.
Heartstrings, eh? She sure lived up to her name.
Lyra cleared her throat. “Thank you so much, everypony. It, uh… it really means a lot. To me. Take care.” As she trotted down the stage and went to grab her things, I finished my scones and tea as fast as I could and trotted over to that gifted musician.
“Hey, um… I just heard you play and-”
“Octavia Melody? Famous cello player? Former member of the Canterlot Quartet?” she said. I felt myself tense up at the mention of the Quartet.
“Oh, um… yes, that’s me. The one and only. Um… I just wanted to say that you gave a wonderful performance, Miss Heartstrings.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh please. I’ve played better while hopped on cider.” The remark caught me off guard.
“H-Huh? B-But you were absolutely incredible. I’ve never seen anypony move an audience like that before!” I said with a shaky voice.
She packed her lyre into her saddlebags and put on her jacket. “Well, I thank you for the kind words, Octavia, but there’s… more to music than what an audience at a coffee shop thinks.” She paused for a second. “Want to go for a walk?”
I accepted her offer with some surprise. As we trotted outside the cafe into the chilly outdoor night, I reflected on her words. How could somepony who put so much emotion into her art that they could bring an audience to tears, just shrug it off as a mediocre performance at best?
“Were those original compositions? I’ve never heard them before.”
“Yep. They’re all me. And off to the depths of my music portfolio they go. Doubt I’ll ever play them again.”
“But… why? Those were some of the best songs I’ve ever heard on the lyre. How could you just cast them aside and ignore them?”
She sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just… have you ever played your cute little heart out, and everypony loves it, but you just feel that there’s something off about it? Like it’s incomplete and wrong? That’s how I feel right now. That performance… it felt fake.”
“But the emotions you poured into it felt so real! I saw the way you play, and it was so moving and powerful.”
“Any poor schmuck can fake emotions. I’ve done this crap for years, and I still don’t feel satisfied.” She looked me dead in the eyes. “Listen, Octavia, I appreciate your kind compliments, but… you can create music. You can compose emotional pieces. You can bring an audience to their knees with your wonderful performances. But if the musician itself doesn’t feel satisfied, then what’s the point? I know that this is my special talent and all, but why do I feel so… unhappy doing it? It feels like this big chore, and I don’t get any satisfaction from it. You know what I mean?”
I nodded. “I… I see where you’re coming from. I’ve come away from a couple performances feeling like I played terribly.”
“Fame was never something I aspired to very much. I just want to be happy while I play my cute little lyre.”
“I understand. I, uh, used to be moderately famous. Member of the Canterlot Quartet and all that. You probably, uh… know what happened, since you follow the quartet.”
“Yes, I do. I, uh, hope you’re doing okay.”
“It’s been hard, but I’m getting there. I… I still think about her every night. It eats away at me and it just… tears me up. And I know that it wasn’t her. It was all me…” I began to get a little choked up. Celestia damnit. Of all the moments, it had to be this one.
It was then that she put a hoof around my shoulder. I felt my ears perk up as she pulled me into a hug. My breathing became sporadic as I melted into her embrace.
“Shhh. You’ll be okay. Just take a deep breath,” she whispered. I obeyed her commands and felt myself relax, looking up at the night sky as it shone brightly on us. There was no sound aside from my deep breaths as I forced myself to calm down. I was practically shaking as I felt her warm embrace. I never wanted this moment to end.
But alas, it did come to an end. She gently pulled herself away from me and looked into my eyes. The deep pools of hazel filled my vision as I came down from my moment of bliss.
“You’re trying to flirt with me, are you?” I said to her.
She blushed. “Uh, well…” I almost felt bad for asking. Her cheeks flushed with a brilliant red. “I was, uh… just comforting you…” I could tell she was lying, but I let it go. The poor mare was being embarrassed enough.
“Alright. Well, thanks Miss Heartstrings. It’s been a rough six months, and to just have somepony understand… It means the world to me,” I smiled at her.
Lyra smiled back at me. I could tell she was still embarrassed, but comforted at my kind words. It warmed my heart to see her grin. Under that uptight exterior of her’s, she was a total softie. As we continued walking, we both looked around us. The complete silence, aside from the gentle scrape of our hooves against the grass, added to the surreal atmosphere that encompassed our walk. The lights in the houses started to go out as another day drew to a close. The pale moonlight covered the land in a chilly embrace. I barely felt the cold, however. Just standing next to her was enough to warm up my soul. My heart was beating at a rapid rate. I never wanted it to end.
We didn’t talk for the rest of our walk. There was no need to. We just trotted to her home, staying close to each other. When we arrived to her home, I felt my heart sink a little, knowing our time was coming to an end. It was a small home on the outskirts of Ponyville, not too different from mine.
“Well, this is the place. Um… thanks again, Octavia. You’re alright, you know? I, uh, hope we can do this again sometime.”
Yeah. She was definitely flirting.
“I’d love to. You’re quite alright, too. Tomorrow, maybe?”
She nodded. “Of course. After work, of course. Um… T-Take care.” She rushed inside without a moment’s notice.
The trot home was a mix of emotions for me. On one hoof, I felt giddy and ecstatic at the opportunity to finally meet somepony who understood me and wanted to be with me, but on the other hoof, I’d go to bed without her wonderful voice and her warm embrace. I shivered on the way home, realizing that I should’ve brought a jacket.
When I got home, I sat my things on the table and went upstairs to my bedroom, then I flopped onto the bed and groaned. As I curled up under the sheets and blankets, I began to cry. It wasn’t a loud cry, nor was it an angry cry. I’m not even sure if they were tears of joy or sadness. It was just an influx of emotions entering me, and I had to find a way to let them out.
But I did know one thing.
I wouldn’t be alone anymore.