Octavia wrinkled her nose as the sterile smell of anti-septics invaded her nose—that was the worst part about coming here. Right behind it? The bright lights and featureless, white walls. The end result was an atmosphere that was nothing short of oppressive.
She hadn't meant to stop walking, but her thoughts had gotten lost in the misery of this place. "Come along, Octavia," her mother's voice called. Octavia scrambled to catch up, pulling her cello case along behind her as her mother lead the way to an information desk.
"Good evening," the receptionist greeted them, and then his gaze fell to Octavia, and the case she was lugging with her that dwarfed her in size. He smiled warmly. "I suppose you're here for the Hearth's Warming Eve strings quartet?"
Octavia blushed. "Y-yes, I am... sir." The receptionist and Octavia's mother both shared a light-heated chuckle.
"Head on down that hallway there," he said, pointing, "and then take the third right, and then the first left. If you get confused, just ask any of the nurses."
"Thank you, sir," Octavia's mother said, bowing slightly. Octavia repeated her mother's actions, before they both turned to follow the instructions they were given.
Those directions led to a small chapel that was far friendlier than the rest of the hospital. The walls in here were paneled with faux wood slats and the lights were a warm yellow instead of the searing white elsewhere, and there was an elevated podium where four music stands stood like islands of black amongst the earthen tones. Several chairs were positioned around the chapel. Although most of them were empty, several patients—many with various medical devices attached to them—sat patiently in their seats. Octavia also noticed a couple of nurses who seemed to take a break as well.
Octavia stepped up to the podium and started getting her instrument ready. A classmate of Octavia's was already there, tuning his violin. There wasn't really a broad plan in place for this holiday performance at the Ponyville General Hospital—it was a charity event, done spur-of-the-moment—so Octavia simply listened as he tuned his instrument and tuned her cello to his strings as well.
Once satisfied with the tuning, she placed a small booklet on the stand in front of her. The songs for this event were just basic arrangements of traditional songs—ones that Octavia might be able play by ear, if needed—but the small book was still useful.
The two remaining performers had yet to arrive, so Octavia looked out at the seated ponies. An older unicorn rocked softly in her chair in the back corner, her menagerie of medical devices swaying with her. Octavia's own mother was sat next to a young pegasus with a both a broken wing and a broken leg—surely the result of a horrible accident gone wrong.
But Octavia's eyes were instead drawn to a younger unicorn filly—around Octavia's own age—sitting completely alone and fidgeting impatiently. Her white coat and blue mane stood out in the soft light, but it was her striking red eyes that were the main distraction—and Octavia's heart began to flutter in her chest.
Time passed in a relatively awkward silence as she tried not to stare at the filly. The viola player and the other violinist were still missing, even though the event's start time was rapidly approaching. Some patients began fussing.
In a fit of frustration and desperate to stop being distracted by the filly, Octavia drew the bow across her strings slowly. Octavia didn't know what she was playing, but she didn't care. Another note sang out, followed by some simple chords. It slowly took on a familiar Hearth's Warming melody.
Octavia wasn't normally fond of improvisation, but something about the moment suddenly began to speak to her. More and more, Octavia played with a creative spark that mixed up the old, traditional song with a much more modern feel. Though it was familiar, it was distinctly different—a song that wasn't written anywhere except her heart. The song grew and took a life of its own as the tempo rose; the melody gave call and response, swelling and ebbing.
At a certain point, the violinist joined in, playing a more rote, traditional take on the melody, but Octavia barely paid it any mind—she simply played. In her heart, she slowly realized she wasn't playing for herself, and she wasn't playing for the audience. She was playing for that other filly. The one who seemed to be completely alone. The flash of light coming from her flank didn't even register with her as she continued her vivacious performance.
The auditorium was dim. Hushed whispers reached her ears, but Octavia paid them no mind as she took her place at the front of the stage. She peered to her right, where the silhouettes of the rest of the orchestra blocked out the dull red lights from the back of the stage.
Every performer was in their place with their instruments: violins, horns, violas, trombones, oboes, tubas, trumpets, a harp, flutes and a handful of percussion instruments. Octavia smiled to herself nervously. She was the only cellist for tonight's performance.
It was a single piece; the introduction to this year's Hearth's Warming Eve pageant. The composer of tonight's piece was a dear friend, and Octavia was proud to have the chance to perform it tonight in front of hundreds of Canterlot's finest ponies.
The lead oboe sang out a forlorn, sustained A. The audience hushed. The rest of the orchestra quietly began to play their own A. Octavia slowly drew her bow across the A string and listened intently. Each performer went through the tuning ritual, producing waves of different pitches up and down the scale as the strings players tested all of their strings, and minute adjustments were made. Each instrument slowly faded away as the various performers were satisfied with the results.
The sound reverberated through the hall for a moment, letting the sheer breadth of sound warmly linger in the air, filling the auditorium's audience with a sense of grandeur.
The conductor—an older, white unicorn mare with a blue mane and matching eyes—was shuffling nervously back and forth. Next to the unicorn, a green earth pony tapped her with a hoof and they both approached the conductor's podium. After the unicorn conductor stepped up to the podium, the earth pony trotted to a microphone on the side of the stage. A spotlight came on, illuminating him.
"Good evening, fillies and gentlecolts," he announced. "Tonight, we are going to be treated to some amazing performances—first up, we have the Canterlot Philharmonic Orchestra, conducted by Aeolian Mode." A second spotlight came on the conductor, who bowed deeply to the audience, her ears flicking this way and that while the warm light remained focused on her.
"And with a special solo performance by Canterlot's own Octavia Melody!" A third spotlight came on, this one right in Octavia's eyes, rendering her nearly blind to the audience. Hooves tapped out a light applause. The earth pony stepped aside, and the spotlights faded. The stage lights came up to a warm glow as the applaused died.
Out of the corner of her eye, Octavia saw the conductor pick up her baton with her magic. Every performer's instrument shifted from its resting position, now prepared to play. Octavia raised her bow. And with a flourish, the song began.
Andante.
Violins, flutes and bells rang out as the song began. The melody, initially, was familiar to ponies of all walks of life. A traditional Hearth's Warming tune, only fully orchestrated. Horns and violas followed several measures later as the sound built up to something more grand. More and more notes continued to shake up the leitmotif with each phrase, adding a bit of unique flavor.
Accelerando.
The tempo rose. This was Octavia's entrance. She placed her bow to her cello and let her lowing strings sing their song, building up to what would soon be her moment.
What was a soft jaunt before was now building into excitement as the old, traditional sounds faded in favor of a more modern interpretation that only vaguely resembled the original. The passage was coming to a climax. Octavia mentally steeled herself for what was to come.
Crescendo.
Octavia played her part, louder and louder, approaching the peak where her solo part would take over. The concert hall dimmed slightly, a spotlight appearing over Octavia as her solo began—The tempo and dynamic dropped sharply.
Elegy.
The orchestra faded away to just the soft cries of the horns, which faded away, and then soon, Octavia was alone. She had practiced this solo countless times. Her bow cried across the strings, a soft winter-time lament that grew into something... more. Octavia became lost in the music as she played—a memory that seemed like a lifetime ago coming to her mind.
It was lunchtime, but Octavia was taking the opportunity to get some extra credit done. High school was rough.
"Octavia!"
Looking up from her homework, Octavia saw one of her classmates approach with some papers held aloft in her magic. "Yes?"
"Some unicorn brought this by and asked me to give this to you." The papers floated in front of Octavia and dropped to her desk. The pages were of poor quality, and fairly worn, but it was... sheet music? The top of the page boldly proclaimed "Untitled", which caused her to snort in mild amusement. And the composer was...
"What?" Octavia blurted in confusion. She flipped through the pages—a two-part piece for cello and violin—but there were no further clues. "Who did you say gave this to you?"
"I don't know," her classmate replied again. "I think she's from the class below us? White unicorn, blue hair, wears sunglasses?"
Octavia stood up, nodding. "Thank you." After exiting to the hallway, Octavia took off at a gallop, earning a quick rebuke from the hall monitor which she promptly respected just long enough to get out of sight and resume again.
She peeked in the doorway for the class below and looked around. A unicorn matching the description given was sitting quietly, alone in the corner, eating lunch. Now that she was here, she realized she didn't know exactly what to do. Should she be... mad? Flattered? Cheated? In truth, she just wanted to know why.
She approached the filly's desk. "Hello?" she called out softly, holding out the pages. "Did you write this?"
The filly's head snapped quickly to meet Octavia's gaze—or at least, that's what Octavia assumed, but couldn't see behind her shades. "Nope," she said calmly. "Got your attention, did it?"
Octavia hadn't expected such a brazen response. "Um, y-yes, I suppose it did." What exactly had she come here for again? Oh, right. "I guess I was wondering... why is my name on here?" Octavia placed the pages down next to the filly's lunchbox.
"Because you wrote it," the white filly replied. "I just transcribed it."
Confused, Octavia looked at the pages again, this time, paying closer attention to the actual music. "This... this is..." The pages dropped out of her hooves to the floor. "Y-you... you transcribed that?!"
The filly nodded. "Every single note. I can't guarantee it was perfect, but... I'm pretty good at it." Her horn lit up and the scattered pages reassembled themselves back onto the desk.
"Why did you do that—" Octavia very nearly shouted the filly's name, but then realized, "—err... I guess I don't know your name," she finished, slightly calmer.
"Name's Vinyl," the filly replied casually. "Vinyl Scratch." She reached up to her nose and removed her shades. Octavia's heart began to race again as she became instantly entranced by Vinyl's red eyes. "You were amazing, by the way, but I know a crush when I see one."
"A what?!" Octavia blurted.
"Nothing," Vinyl said, a half-cocked smile spreading across her face. "We can talk about that later. For now, we'll stick to your question: Why did I do it? Because it was an amazing performance. I fell completely in love with you." She gestured at her cutie mark—two eighth notes joined by a bar. "You got your cutie mark from playing it. I got mine from transcribing it."
"In love with me?" Octavia blurted, suddenly confused, before her strict upbringing kicked in and demanded a response. "And, uh... congratulations, I guess?"
"Thanks!" Vinyl smiled in a way that completely threw Octavia off again. "It was really important to me. Still is, really. I transcribed it for my mom, and she's the most important pony in the world to me."
Octavia paused. "You transcribed it for her?"
"Oh, yeah. She wasn't able to make it—she was in surgery during your performance, and I had nothing else to do. I sang it to her at first, but it was really obvious I couldn't truly replicate it on my own, cuz I can't sing chords. My mom used to be a music teacher, so I wrote it down. Took me three weeks."
"Wait a minute," Octavia interrupted. "It took you three weeks? I performed that four years ago."
Vinyl disarmed Octavia with her smile again. "Yeah, I've been meaning to give it to you, but... I didn't realize until afterward that it was... less than an ideal plan. See, my mom... she never regained her sight after that trip to the hospital. She never got to read it. But I don't need it anymore, so I want you to have it."
Octavia just stared at Vinyl, her jaw slack with confusion. "You seem really casual about this, but this sounds very heartbreaking for you."
"Well, it is, but I've processed it years ago," Vinyl said, rolling her eyes. "That sheet music... it's kinda special to me, y'know? Giving away the very pages that got me my cutie mark? It's all very personal. But I actually want you to have them. It's your cutie mark, too!"
That she was so willing to sacrifice something that meant so much to her made Octavia's heart jump, but it didn't sit right. Octavia's cutie mark didn't come from the sheet music, it had come from her heart. "Vinyl... I don't know what to say... I can't accept this."
"Nope, its purpose has been fulfilled," Vinyl said matter-of-factly. "My mom finally got to hear it performed by a professional duet the next year, and she loved it. And now, she and I are working on a really huge project, and we want your help to finish it."
It was such a lovely memory. Octavia smiled to herself as she performed the very same song that Vinyl had written on those pages—the same song she had improvised nearly a decade prior. Octavia's song was now found amongst the melodies and harmonies of much larger piece, composed by Vinyl's mother. The very same pony who, though blind, was now standing before a full orchestra, conducting a performance in front of a live audience for the first time in twenty years.
With that thought in her heart, Octavia poured her entire soul into her instrument. Her solo performance—transcribed entirely from memory by the unicorn who had been listening that day—was now played with the same passion and heart that Octavia had played it originally, because now she played for a much bigger purpose: To make an old mare's dreams come true.
The strings sang a song that touched the hearts and minds of every pony in the amphitheatre that night—a wordless story that no one truly know, yet every pony could feel. Octavia took them on a journey of self-discovery, of family, and of holiday cheer.
And then her solo was over. The rest of the orchestra slowly returned as the spotlight on Octavia faded away, giving her a reprieve from the heat. Her part continued, now backed by the rest of the ensemble as the final few phrases of the song played out, and then Octavia's part came to an end.
She looked over at the front of the orchestra, where Aeolian Mode's magenta magic waved her baton about with pride, gesturing for different parts to play louder and softer, until the final chord played, sustained— and the baton circled about to cut it off. The hall echoed briefly with the final overtones of the horns.
The audience sat in awed silence.
Several beats later, there was an explosive applause. The spotlight came on again, focused on the conductor's podium. Octavia smiled as Aeolian turned and took a bow, not quite managing to face the right direction until the oboeist stood up to turn her.
A second spotlight came on, focused on Octavia, and she took a bow of her own. The applause doubled. Octavia's heart swelled with pride. She straightened up and glanced over at her mother-in-law's tear-streaked face. But her pride was not for herself. Even though the world saw this as Octavia's moment, she knew otherwise. There was another pony who had worked for years to make this moment happen, and now she was finally able to live her dream again.
