Octavia's creativity pays off one day during a concert, where a special piece she adds as a finale brings out a new fan. But the fan appears out of nowhere, and no one seems to notice her but Octavia.
On the northwest end of Ponyville lay a modestly-sized, antiquated wooden building with little more adorning it than a few cracked windows and brass plating on the front doors labelled “PUSH”. Mounted above the double-doored entrance were rusted yellow letters that spelled out “Ponyville Music Hall” on a normal day and, on occasion, tampered with to form “Ponyvile Music Hell”.
On the inside, the air was filled with only silence and the seats were occupied with ponies waiting for the show. Their eyes were glued to the the red curtains on the stage, not daring to speak a word lest they miss the beginning of the impending melody. In a quick motion, the fabric shielding the stage to the audience was pulled to the side, revealing seven instrument-wielding musicians, poised with their musical tools and looking to the applauding audience with straight-faced, no-nonsense expressions.
Within seconds, a stout, light-brown stallion with a pearl-white mane and tail had lowered his hooves on two of his piano’s keys at once, holding the tone for a couple of seconds before moving them to a higher note. As he reached the middle of the piano, a high trill began sounding its way out of a violin wielded by a mature, light-purple mare with a chocolate-brown mane.
Then, everything went silent once more. After a few moments, the group looked to each other, nodded their heads and poised themselves again, ready to continue.
A melodic tune began pouring out of the instruments, led by the thundering trills of the violin, piano and cello with the support of a timpani drum’s beat. Two flutes and a trumpet’s loud buzz enhanced the sound and accentuated the impact it made on the audience, keeping everyone in the theatre on their toes.
As the night went on, there were songs that made its listeners cry, songs that made them think—despite having no lyrics. There were sections that made shivers go up their spine, pieces that shocked them to the back of their seats.
As the group quickened their pace, rising higher and higher in pitch and volume in a stunning crescendo, the audience was leaning on the edge of their seats. All at once, the musicians stopped—most of them, anyway. Every performer on stage had scurried off to the side save for one grey-coated mare: the cello player, Octavia. She took a few careful steps towards center stage and positioned her bow on her cello’s delicate strings.
A bead of sweat ran down her back as a thousand faces turned to stare as if boring a hole right through her; unshaken, she closed her eyes. Within moments, she forgot about her fellow musicians, the audience, the building. She entered a secluded world of peace and tranquility, where the only sound she could hear was the steady motion of her breathing and saw only what stories her cello had begun singing; back in the theatre, what could be heard was a prodigy coaxing music from her instrument with subtle grace.
The long, drawn-out notes coming out of the instrument left the audience wanting more, which was delivered shortly afterwards with sharp notes and high-pitched finishes. The fast-paced sounds ended abruptly with Octavia re-entering the world of the theatre, smiling as she turned to her fellow musicians. The audience quickly began applauding the performance enthusiastically, rising from their seats—and some with tears forming in their eyes.
The rest of the group went out to take their bows, staying in the spotlight for several moments before the curtains were placed back into position. The thunderous rounds of applause made the cramped theatre an impossible place for the performers to speak without having their voices drowned out.
As the group retreated into a windowless back room, they sat down on six chairs forming a small circle. Their instruments leaned against a wall, still and quiet.
‘I thought that went pretty well!’ Octavia exclaimed, prompting five heads to nod in response. ‘But where’s—?’
‘I am right here, darling,’ a formal-sounding voice replied from behind her. ‘I was placing the cover over my piano. I trust you folks always take measures to protect your instruments, hmm?’
‘Of course we do, Staccato,’ Octavia replied. ‘What did you think of the concert?’
Staccato waltzed to the center of the circle with his head raised high, twirling a black, sharp-tailed suit as he turned to face Octavia. ‘Does the cheering outside answer your question?’
A short giggle spread across the room.
‘So,’ Staccato began, ‘if we could begin by—’
‘Whoa, who put you in charge?’ a teal, pink-maned mare interrupted, giggling. ‘Only joking, Staccy! Go on!’
‘That’s Staccato, Vivace,’ Staccato replied, snorting in annoyance. ‘I’d appreciate if you stopped calling me that. Now, I’m certain that you all enjoyed your performance this evening?’
‘Oh yes!’ one of a pair of identical light-grey mares replied, similar in every way to her twin save for her having a straight golden mane as compared to the other’s curly mane. ‘It was quite delightful, wasn’t it, Treble?’
‘Most certainly, Clef!’ Treble replied. ‘The way their faces lit up—’
‘And the way they looked to us in admiration, it was a feeling we’ll never forget—’
‘We felt like superstars!’
‘As you should, ladies!’ Staccato resumed. ‘You should all be proud of our spectacle tonight! I daresay this has been our finest one yet, and a big part of it is thanks to our wonderful cellist’—Octavia beamed—’who came up with the idea of finishing off with a solo! And, of course, our lovely flutists were fantastic during our rendition of “Yesterday”; I’d say The Lonely Hooves Club Band themselves would be delighted to hear such a cover!’
Treble and Clef joined in Octavia’s glee.
‘And what about the rest of us?’ the violinist protested, frowning. ‘I thought we played great! Why don’t we get any credit?’
‘Sonata, please,’ Staccato replied, sighing. ‘You simply must give me time to continue before going off with that mouth of yours. I was just getting ready to congratulate you, Vivace and Waltz.’
The teal mare and a sky-blue colt, with a chocolate-coloured mane matching Sonata’s, whom he sat right next to, offered a slight smile.
‘Hmmph! I doubt it,’ Sonata hissed.
Everyone but Sonata and Staccato, who looked to each other with narrowed eyes and glowering expressions, simply sat in their seats, quiet and patient.
‘Where was I?’ Staccato resumed, breaking from the battle. ‘Ah, I have some excellent news I procured from the theatre’s manager!’
The room’s occupants brightened up and leaned their ears in. The colt was looking down at his rear hooves hanging from the chair, his face withdrawn from the conversation.
‘Waltz, are you alright?’ Staccato inquired. ‘I wouldn’t want you to miss out on this news, hmm? Best if you paid more attention to me.'
'Y-yes, mister Staccato,' Waltz replied sheepishly. Sonata patted a hoof against his back and continued to glare at the pianist.
'Wonderful! Now, I got some news recently from a friend of mine—mind you, this is simply a rumour—that talent seekers from Manehattan have been touring around Equestria. The last time a sighting of said seekers was found, they were in Canterlot. They might be headed here next.’
Unintelligible murmurs scattered across the room.
‘I bet you’re thinking exactly what I’m thinking: a better theatre! Fame! Bigger audiences!’ Staccato closed his eyes and a hint of a smile crept up on his face. ‘I’m sure that’ll give you all plenty to think about, hmm? Just remember to keep trying your best; I have no idea when, or even if, they’re coming. Does anyone else have anything to input?’
‘Oh, oh!’ Vivace cried out, raising her hoof into the air as high as she could. ‘Is Saturday the next concert date?’
‘Ah, yes it is! I think it would be prudent to get some rest before then—who knows, maybe the talent seeker will be there!’ Staccato raised a hoof. ‘Ta ta, everyone!’
Staccato took a quick bow and retreated back on-stage, his suit fluttering behind him as he trotted.
‘Good night folks! Loved the concert!’ Vivace cried out happily. ‘Octy, you wanna walk home with me?’
Octavia rose from her seat, gave a short sigh and trotted over to the side, retrieving her instrument. ‘It’s not like we don’t walk home together every day, Vivace.’
‘Oh, I know!’ Vivace stuck out her tongue playfully. ‘I just wanted to make sure! I hate walking alone!’
As the remaining musicians grabbed their instruments and followed Staccato’s move out the door, Octavia used her free hoof to pull Vivace back into the room. In a rapid flash of her hoof, she shut the door, leaving the two in the room alone.
‘What’s going on, Octy?’ Vivace inquired, raising her eyebrows. ‘You aren’t holding me captive, are you?’
‘No, no... nothing like that.’ Octavia sighed. ‘I just wanted to have a one-on-one with you. Do you have any idea what’s going on with Staccato and Sonata? They’re usually not this hostile!’
‘They haven’t liked each other since I came several months ago. Maybe even longer before that, who knows?’
‘I know—but I haven’t seen them at each other’s throats like this even when I first arrived!’
‘I still remember the first time you played with us,’ Vivace remarked, looking up to the ceiling. ‘It was only last month, but you sure made a great first impression! You’re already the star of the show!’
‘That isn’t what I’m trying to—ugh,’ Octavia moaned and took a peek up above at a decaying plank of wood lining the roof. ‘Let’s go walk home, Vivace. I don’t think it’s a great idea staying in this old theatre; it might collapse at any given moment.’
Vivace offered a slight chuckle and trotted out the door with her trumpet encased in a velvet-lined, hard plastic yellow case. ‘Maybe that’s the reason why Staccy’s gotten so grumpy at you! He could be jealous of you taking the spotlight!’
‘No, he’d be stern with me if that were the case.’ Octavia followed her friend out the door and headed towards the theatre’s double-doored exit. 'They might have some history between them. Wouldn’t want to stay in this group if we can’t all get alo—say, how’d you get into the group, Vivace? You don’t exactly strike me as the type Staccato would associate himself with.’
‘Whatever do you mean, darling?’ Vivace said haughtily, raising her snout up snobbishly high. ‘I am as refined as a crumpet, my dear Octavia.’
Octavia allowed a short giggle.
‘Very funny. But really, how did you get in?’
‘Same way as you did. Getting noticed by Staccato while playing for a group! Although, I guess I was picked because he couldn’t find another trumpeter or someone with an instrument that plays like it—oh!’ Vivace lit up. ‘Did you see the front sign? I came into the theatre and saw it hanging above me!’
The duo were now outside of the theatre, with Octavia looking to her friend, incredulous. ‘Whatever do you mean, Vivace—oh,’ she remarked as she turned around, ‘it’s... nice?’
Vivace tried to suppress a giggle, but her efforts were in vain as she fell on the ground in hysterics. ‘I was reaching up to touch the door frame when the “a” shook and turned upside-down! It was so funny that I just left it!’ she explained between breaths.
Idly doing random things with her hooves? Octavia thought. How bizarre... I need to get to know these ponies better.
Almost as quickly as she had fallen, Vivace sprung up, smiled and continued walking. ‘So why didn’t your marefriend come out and walk with you today?’
‘I’m not really sure why you keep calling her that. Vinyl and I have no relationship whatsoever, and I can tell you with all honesty that I don’t have any romantic feelings for her.’ Octavia sighed. ‘And you’re going to ask me on Saturday, and then at the next concert after that, and the one after that...’
‘Huh? Then why do you live with her?’
‘We’ve been friends since we were fillies, Vivace.’
‘Right! Right... now I remember! It’s a shame she couldn’t come to see your amazing solo finish, though!’
‘Really? You liked it too?’ Octavia stretched a wide smile and turned towards Vivace expectantly. ‘It’s... it’s nice to see everyone admiring your work.’
‘I never said I liked it. I don’t think that soloist could play a cello for her life! I think she should take some lessons from a real teacher—’
‘Like you’re any better!’ Octavia rebutted, playfully shoving her friend to the side. A short giggling escaped their lips as they came to one of Ponyville’s many townhouses, decorated with very little save for a treble clef engraved on the wooden door’s frame. ‘So, I’ll see you on Saturday, then?’
‘You better do your best, Octy!’
Octavia waved her hoof as Vivace skipped away, humming a rendition of the prior performance. I wonder if I could get Vinyl to come to one of my performances, she pondered, pushing the front door open. Maybe I’d get the same reaction that Vivace gave me. Wouldn’t mind having someone to talk to about these sort of things, especially if that someone lives with me.
Octavia began humming a soft tune as she walked into the house. Bare-surfaced stairs were going straight up in front of her, and two rooms on the eastern side of the building connected into the passage beside the staircase. The humming ended abruptly as she walked into the closest room—the living room, a simple space adorned with little more than a sofa, a radio sitting on a pedestal and unrecognizable sheets of music and remains of half-eaten food lying everywhere on the floor.
Octavia, watching her step as she walked across the room and recoiling at the thought of touching something, took a peek over the back of the tattered sofa and observed a sleeping mare, unable to see the look of disgust on her friend’s face through closed eyes.
'Vinyl!' Octavia yelled, prompting the snoozing pony to jump from the couch in surprise, the sudden motion of which caused her glasses to soar off of her face. Before they could hit the floor, her alerted mind instinctively snatched them in mid-air.
'I see you're as alert as ever. How can you be so responsive already if you were only just sleeping?'
'Yo...' Vinyl began, recovering her cerise eyes with the untouched glasses. ‘I was trying to come up with some fresh beats on my own... guess I kinda made a mess. Maybe I was only half-asleep or something. Sorry I couldn't come to your concert; I really needed to get this done.'
‘This mess is really disgusting, Vinyl.’ Octavia sighed. ‘Did you make any progress with your work? It’d be great if you could finish soon so you can clean up in here; I like relaxing on the couch too, but not in a room like this.’
‘Yeah, yeah...’
‘So how far are you into it? Did you need any help with it?’ Octavia inquired. Maybe I can ease her into attending the concert. Not sure where to go from here...
'Ah, not very far... I've been here for a while—' Vinyl motioned towards the scattered mess of food and papers. '—but nothing has been coming to mind. I should probably get this finished... but on my own. No offense—we just have different styles, you know?’
Octavia harrumphed. ‘...Just because you say you’ll get it finished doesn’t mean that you’ll do it.’
‘Yeah.’
'...Sounds rough. I've got a talent seeker coming to see our group sometime in the next few weeks—not sure when—so I’m a little focused on my music too... wait, you need some inspiration?' Octavia asked, raising an eyebrow.
'Well, yeah. What are you getting at?'
'I really like seeing ponies I know in the audience before I play—'
'Let me just stop you right there,' Vinyl interrupted, holding out a hoof. 'I know what you're going to say, and the answer is no. No offense, but it's just not my style, you dig? It doesn't have that edge that ponies really like, the thing that sets it apart!'
‘You’ve never seen our group play, Vinyl. Too busy, remember?’
‘I’ve seen you play, though.’
‘It’s not the same when I’m practicing, that’s just my own thing.’
‘Well, it can’t be any different from that “Stilettos” group, can it?’ Vinyl stuck out her tongue. ‘Those guys were boring.’
Octavia stopped and brought her hoof to her chin, deep in thought.
Huh... an edge? Something to get ponies interested, something that isn’t “boring”? Maybe this will work for more than just Vinyl...
'As a matter of fact,' Octavia began, 'there is something of an “edge” I'll be putting into my next piece; it won’t sound anything like that concert I showed you. Today's Thursday, so you still have a few days to think of your song... interested?'
Vinyl lifted her own hoof to her head, rubbing it against her mane as she thought about the offer. After a few moments of consideration, she turned back to Octavia.
'For real? Something fresh, and not from that boring steel-toes group?' Vinyl questioned, prompting a nod from Octavia. 'Nice, I do like edgy music... ah, why not?’
'Excellent!' Octavia cheered, hugging her roommate. 'It's great to get other ponies involved with the theatre!'
'Hey now, don't go around thinking I'm in this permanently,' Vinyl said, pushing her roommate off of her tight embrace. ‘I'm just coming to hear you do... whatever you're doing, and nothing more. You know what I’m saying?’
'Yeah, I know what you mean. It's just something you're going to try, not necessarily to become a fan. You’d probably have enjoyed it already if you had just given it a chance before, though...'
‘Yeah, yeah, whatever. You got it.’ She promptly smiled, picked up a half-eaten slice of herb pizza in her mouth and made her way to the hallway. Octavia watched as her roommate left and promptly crashed on the moth-eaten couch, disregarding the mess all around her.
Better not screw this up, Octavia said with a sigh. She curled up on the couch and closed her eyes. Celestia knows the talent seeker might be our big break.
The Dancer
~|D|~
'Do you think the talent seeker is here?'
Vivace's words left her mouth laced with fear as she began taking a peek out of the theatre curtains. She darted her head to and fro repeatedly, attempting to find something out of the ordinary amidst the patient crowd.
'As long as we play our best, it won’t matter if he or she is here or not,' Octavia replied, trying her best to pull off an assuring smile. 'Don't worry, it's just your everyday normal concert! Play like you usually do!'
'Yes, I know... but I just can't shake the nerves off! Staccy is making this whole thing seem so important, and I'm not sure I can gather the energy to play like I usually do!'
Octavia poked her head outside the curtain just as her friend did, both of them hidden by the darkened lights on stage.
'Well, I don't think he would stand out even if he was here,' Octavia concluded. 'If he did stand out, though, we'd see it. And I don't see anything quite out of the ordinary—'
Octavia's eyes focused on a single, distinguishable figure going through the auditorium's main door, bearing a sharp blue mane and unmistakable shades covering her eyes.
'Huh,' Octavia said, bemused, 'she actually came. I honestly didn't think she would.'
A shuffling of hooves was heard behind the two as a figure approached them.
'Are you girls ready?' Staccato asked the two. 'We don't really have time to be staring out into the crowd, we should start in just a few moments.'
'Yeah, we're both ready,' Vivace replied. 'At least, I think Octavia is ready. I've got my trumpet right here!'
As Vivace picked up her trumpet lying on the backstage floor, Octavia went over to the side wall, picking up her own instrument to show Staccato. The mahogany bow remained attached on the cello, keeping tight to its side to prevent it from getting dropped.
'Good, good... now, what say we start this thing? That talent seeker could have our future waiting!'
The rest of the group, complete with their instruments, joined the trio right behind the curtains, each of them nodding their heads in agreement.
'Then let's get this show on the road! Raise the curtains!'
A dark-haired stallion at the side wall began pulling a string next to him, shifting the curtains to the side and silencing the watching crowd. The septet walked on stage, set up their instruments proper, Staccato's piano having already been set up, and squinted as the lights in the theatre lit up in an instant.
'You sure that you’re ready, Vivace?' Octavia whispered.
'I... I think I’ll be fine. Let’s hope we all stay that way, eh?’
Staccato's piano began chiming out a few high-pitched, introductory notes before the drum began beating, setting the pace for the rest of the group. Slowly, each member entered the first piece, playing their respective instruments softly and quietly. Suddenly, they all erupted in a burst of quick notes, concluding the first piece of the concert. The echo of the finale's impact reverberated for a moment in the theatre after the final note, turning every head in the theatre.
For the remainder of the concert, the soft moments were many and the quick, hard moments were few. The audience's reaction was initially filled with impressed smiles, but as the concert went on, only the fast-paced parts made any notable impact.
Hmm... an “edge” to my playing...
As the final song drew to a close, Vivace turned to Octavia with an anticipating gaze, waiting for her solo moment. As Staccato pressed the third highest key on the piano, followed by the second and finishing off with the highest note, the crowd prepared to start their applause. However, their attempt was cut off by a low, lengthy tune that poured out of Octavia's cello, drawing their attention towards her.
As she noticed the wary eyes focusing on her playing, she quickly changed to a more subtle tone. The other musicians turned to her as she continued playing notes, attempting to whisper to Octavia to make her stop. But it was of no use, as Octavia had quickly entered her own musical world, and had begun quickening her pace and variation of pitches without any outside distractions. Soon, she could barely keep her hoof up with the rapid tune that was quickly tiring her out.
Octavia's frantic movements vibrated the cello in ways she had never imagined, churning out fast-paced, complex string after string of notes, shocking the audience’s senses. The same could be said for the rest of the seven musicians on stage, who refrained from interrupting to make the unrehearsed piece appear more natural.
Octavia continued to remain in her own world, free of the accusing glares her bandmates kept giving as they glanced over towards her. There was one thing she did notice, however: the figure of a yellow, brown-maned mare was on stage, appearing seemingly out of thin air. Her movements seemed to go along with Octavia's notes, stepping or making a sharp jab every time she hit a high note. As she continued to slide her bow across her cello, her mind raced along question after question concerning the figure’s appearance.
She’s dancing...
Octavia's realization prompted her to stop the music, choosing instead to focus on the dancer on stage. As though she pushed some hidden button, the dancer suddenly stopped, turned to face Octavia and dissipated into thin air. A sense of longing to keep the dancer where she was filled Octavia, but a feeling of shock prevented her from moving her bow to churn out more musical notes. After a few moments, not a trace of the mare could be seen on the stage, leaving a bewildered cello player behind clutching her bow, still and unmoving.
Not a moment later and the audience's shocked faces turned to enthusiastic smiles, which led to a thunderous applause stronger than any Octavia—or any of the other musicians for that matter—had ever heard before. Every guest in the theatre was out of their seats, chanting cheers of "bravo!" and "amazing!" towards the confused cello player and her fellow performers.
The other members of the group raised their eyebrows and turned to each other, shrugging and exchanging surprised glances. Octavia shook from her focus on the now empty stage where the dancer had stood, looking towards the crowd with a pleased smile stretching out on her face. She caught a glimpse of the blue-maned mare she knew as her roommate, who was out of her seat just like the rest of the crowd, showing her shocked expression through lowered shades.
The other members of the group began waving and smiling, promptly departing the stage as the feeling wore down. As they passed Octavia to head backstage, mumbles of congratulations and praise passed by. None of those words, none of the audience members, not even Vinyl's shock was of any concern to Octavia at that moment as she turned her gaze back to the empty spot on stage.
A hoof tapped on wood several times, waiting for the echoing response to fill its owner’s ears. A distortion filled the reply, jumbled by the ringing that still remained from a once full room’s thunderous applause. For several moments, Octavia simply stared. For another moment, the mirage of an ethereal figure briefly shimmered where the dancer had been before.
‘Yo! Octavia!’
A voice coming from afar shattered her concentration, causing the image to vanish instantly. ‘You coming in the next... I dunno, year or so?’ Vinyl called out from the front door. ‘It’s getting pretty dark outside, might want to hurry up.’
‘Yes, yes...’ Octavia stepped off the side of the stage, still keeping her eyes glued to its center. How bizarre...
A gentle whisper of wind whistled through the air as the two mares left the theatre. A whisper...
Octavia...
‘Vinyl!’ Octavia yelped, shivering all over. ‘Did you hear that?’
Vinyl watched and raised an eyebrow as her friend darted her head to and fro, searching for the source of the voice. Her glasses were raised, exposing her cerise eyes to the air. ‘Well, uh... I did kind of call your name.’
‘No, I mean right now. As in a few seconds ago.’
‘Yeah. I was about to ask you something.’
Octavia blushed a deep shade of crimson and turned her head away. ‘Oh... sorry about that. I guess it’s just the wind playing tricks on me.’
Vinyl closed her eyes as the duo walked. A humming sound began to rise out of her throat, culminating in a string of slow, somber sounds escaping her mouth.
‘You change gold to lead... you remember that, Tav?’ Vinyl said softly, opening her eyes and raising them up to the night sky. ‘You played so well today that it sort of... brought me back. You know, back to when we were just little fillies.’ Vinyl was too busy staring at the two stars hovering in a sea of darkness to notice Octavia’s blushing. Lanterns filled with a gentle flame or busy fireflies lined the streets they walked. ‘Do you remember those days, Tav?’
‘Y-Yes, Vinyl.’ Octavia shuddered. ‘I do remember them well.’
‘You alright?’ Vinyl inquired, taking a sideways glance at her friend.
‘Yes, quite alright...’ Octavia’s thoughts wandered for several moments. ‘You know, you were the one who stopped enjoying this kind of music. I figured you’d be the one to forget what it used to be like.’
Vinyl sighed. ‘Mm, yeah. Doesn’t mean I can’t appreciate some good tunes now and again. I don’t think I’ve heard anything like that though since we played our song.’
‘You still remember that?’ A bright smile stretched over Octavia’s face.
‘Yeah. Like I said: You change gold to lead, but I remember what you said—’
Octavia cleared her throat, and Vinyl nodded her head in response. ‘Purify the colours, purify my mind... how does it go again?’
The two stopped in front of their home. A lantern hung on either side of the door, the fireflies inside brightening up and dancing along with the tune. ‘Spread the ashes of the colours, over this heart of mine,’ Vinyl sang. The fireflies glowed brighter, and both mares smiled at the sight.
‘That song didn’t make any sense!’ Octavia said, giggling. ‘They were nice to make, though... things seem too stressful these days. We need more whimsical things in our lives.'
‘I know what you mean.’ Vinyl pushed open the door with her hoof and the fireflies settled down. A somber fire illuminated two more lanterns on the inside. ‘I think I’m gonna hit the hay,’ she said, stretching her hooves individually before making her way upstairs. ‘G’night, Tavi.’
‘Good night, Vinyl.’ Octavia walked into the dimly-lit living room—groaning as she stepped into an unrecognizable pile of mush on the floor—and sat down on the sofa.
For a few brief moments, she had forgotten all about the dancer. As she laid on the couch, it was all she could think about that night.
~|D|~
An uncomfortable feeling washed over the cello-playing mare—one that hadn’t gotten much sleep the night before, one that raised her hooves in a futile attempt to block the sun’s rays. Realizing that it was a wasted effort, she got up from the couch she had been resting on and made her way, groggily, to the living room window.
As she closed the curtains, her body whined and longed for a quick session of stretching—her mind disagreed, and she instinctively followed it to the couch as it longed for more rest.
A sudden knock came, seemingly from nowhere, shaking Octavia out of her sleep-deprived state. She waited several seconds, another knock. ‘Tavi,’ Vinyl’s voice moaned, slightly muffled from the top floor, ‘you gonna answer that? I can’t really sleep when some ponies feel the need to knock at... one thirty in the afternoon! Buncha jerks...’ Vinyl trailed off, prompting a quick eye roll before Octavia walked to the front door.
Another knock came just as she pushed the door open, more forceful than the last. Standing at the doorway was Staccato, putting on a bright smile as he spoke.
‘Good... afternoon, Octavia?’ he said, recoiling a touch at her rustled mane. ‘My word, did you just wake up? Do you know what time it—’
‘Yes, Staccato,’ Octavia replied, rubbing her eyes with an idle hoof. ‘Every Sunday is guaranteed off, though. Nothing’s open.’
‘Yes, yes... but honestly—’ Staccato stared once more, aghast, at Octavia’s mane. ‘—it is far too late to be waking up!’
‘You’re one hundred percent right, Staccato.’ Octavia promised herself another eye roll later. ‘So how come you’re making a house call? Something happen at the Hall?’
‘Well, something did happen, and we want to talk about it... you know what I’m talking about, don’t you?’ Octavia shook her head as the pianist spoke. ‘Come on, then. The other members of the group should be on their way there already—wouldn’t want to keep them waiting, would we? It won’t take long, I promise you that!’
Octavia nodded her head, to which Staccato ushered her along with a hoof. ‘Splendid!’ the stallion said, eyes widening and smile brightening as Octavia followed along. ‘The twins were tagging along as I walked home, when all of a sudden, they thought of a marvelous idea! I chatted with Sonata a little about it, and the twins made a house call for Vivace; I do say, I was hesitant to consider it at first, but it seems to fit with our group so well!’
Octavia waited a moment for Staccato to catch his breath before speaking. ‘And Waltz?’ she inquired. ‘Well, first off, just what is this groundbreaking idea?’
‘You’ll find out when we get there—surprises are all the better!’ Staccato teased, chuckling to himself. ‘Waltz almost always tags along with Sonata, so I’d wager that he’d be showing up too.’
Octavia racked her brain in a futile attempt to come up with more things to say—it was not the awkward silence that bothered her, although Staccato’s random glances at everything around them showed that there was plenty of that.
Her mind slowly drifted to the dancer.
So close... a few feet away... dancing...
The dancer appeared several feet in front of her.
There she is... the curiosity bounds in me... she just disappeared out of thin a—
‘Are you alright, miss Octavia?’ Staccato asked, looking to Octavia with an air not of confusion, but interest. ‘Did you see something?’
As though she had awoken for the second time that day, Octavia shook from her trance. ‘Y-Yes, sorry. Daydreaming about nothing, I guess.’
‘Hopefully you can stay awake for the meeting.’ The two approached the front doors of the “Ponyville Music Hall”, its letters now properly mounted above the entryway. ‘Some mischievous young mare or colt messed with the letters to spell out “Ponyvile Music Hell”. Can you believe that?’
Octavia chuckled. ‘Sounds like quite a handful.’
‘You have no idea. Who would come to a place with “hell” in its name?’ The duo walked inside, soon greeted with a round of waves by the rest of their musical troupe up on the stage. ‘Good afternoon, Ponyville Players!’
‘Hey, that’s a pretty cool name!’ Vivace shouted from across the room. ‘Do we have an official name yet, Staccy?’
Staccato harrumphed at “Staccy”, but continued to move towards the stage with Octavia by his side. ‘I didn’t really think about that, but that’s not what we’re here to discuss.’
The six other musicians nodded their heads in agreement and went into the back room together—as they entered the windowless space, Staccato assumed the center of the room while his fellow players circled around him.
‘Octavia,’ he began, ‘that playing was absolutely phenomenal last night. Does anyone here disagree?’ The room fell silent. ‘As I expected, everyone agrees. Now, we might still be all excited from the huge applause we got—no, earned, last night, so consider this thoughtfully before making any judgements on this suggestion.’
Staccato drew in a deep breath and let it all out slowly.
‘I propose that we add a little “rock” element to our group.’ Small murmurs scattered throughout the room—all but Sonata, however, had smiles on their faces. Sonata bore a scowl. ‘Now now, this isn’t some huge undertaking from everyone. In fact, all we really need to do is keep Octavia doing her own thing like last night.’
‘Won’t that just make my music sound off?’ Octavia commented, raising an eyebrow. ‘I mean, it’s not like I can’t make my cello make all sorts of melodies, “rock and roll” or whatever suits your fancy, but it wouldn’t fit if it wasn’t backed by something else.’
‘Very true,’ Staccato replied. ‘Very true. Any thoughts?’
‘Adding this to our group is ridiculous, Staccato!’ Sonata said sharply. ‘Honestly! Do you want to alienate our listeners with that trash every night? No offense to you, Octavia. I really like your part, but anything past that would be too much for our audience.’
‘Well, what about the Lonely Hooves Club Band?’ Clef—or Treble, no one in the room could tell when their hair wasn’t done up properly—piped up.
‘Indeed, they put orchestra music in with rock and they’re the most famous music group in history!’
‘We already took the first step by playing “Yesterday”!’
‘And we can play something else if flutes aren’t needed!’
‘You can’t really compare us to them, girls,’ Sonata replied, frowning. ‘We’re not at their level, not by a long shot. If Octavia’s music doesn’t sound good without other elements of rock backing it up, I say we forget about this completely.’
‘Sonata, please understand that you are not in charge here, nor am I.’ Staccato frowned disapprovingly. ‘I am merely stating an idea to expand our audience. Should they choose not to like it, then we can revert back to our present music. All I ask is that we give this a chance; we can rehearse some of this new music as a group in case we ever need it.’ A pause. ‘All in favour of at least rehearsing this idea?’
All hooves save Sonata’s and Waltz’s shot up. Waltz looked around and slowly rose his own into the air, met with several approving nods and a single sigh.
‘Wonderful!’ Staccato clapped his hooves and smiled. ‘We’ll keep playing as we did on Saturday until our new sound really kicks in! Now, I’ve got a dreadful amount of things to do at home, so now that we have everything settled, I say we wrap this up with a ta-da!’
Staccato turned—shooting Sonata a quick, hard glare as he did—and left the room. A murmur buzzed around the room as the remaining musicians made their way to the door, followed by short formalities as they departed.
Octavia watched as Sonata, hanging her head down low while she walked, left the circle wordlessly. A part of her was drawn to leave the theatre right then in an attempt to keep Sonata’s privacy as it was—private. A larger part of her—curiosity, as it were—sparked a conversation.
‘Sonata, wait!’ Octavia called out, grabbing the attention of both the violinist and the colt walking alongside her, the group’s drummer. ‘Could I have a word?’
‘By all means,’ Sonata replied warmly. ‘If this is about my reluctance to your music, though, I assure you I meant no harm—’
‘It’s not that,’ Octavia cut in, eliciting a sliver of surprise from the two she walked with. ‘I was just wondering if you could tell me... no, that’s silly. Forget I said anything.’
‘What is it, Octavia?’ Sonata inquired, opening the theatre’s front doors with a gentle push. ‘We won’t bite. Waltz certainly won’t,’ she added, chuckling as Waltz’s cheeks glowed bright red.
‘Well, it’s...’ Octavia stepped outside and noticed Staccato’s distant figure ahead. ‘It’s about you and Staccato.’
Sonata drew in a deep breath and she, too, stared out to Staccato’s figure. She paused for a moment, allowed Waltz’s hoof to rest on her shoulder and give it a few pats before continuing on. Octavia swore she could see a tear beginning to form before Sonata’s head turned.
‘I’m surprised no one has tried to ask me that question yet,’ she stated, waving off Waltz’s hoof with her own. ‘Waltz would be the only one who’d know—he hasn’t really interacted with many ponies but myself and a few others, but we’ve spent a lot of time together. I’ve been almost as independent as he has since I was a nearly grown-up filly—since Staccato and I got along.’
‘You two were friends?’
Both Sonata and Waltz nodded—the latter’s eyes lit up, steady and unwavering, as his friend spoke. ‘Very good friends, actually. He was my neighbour when we were young, long before I met Waltz and much longer than when I became involved with this group.’ Sonata looked up to the clear sky, stopped for a moment and closed her eyes. ‘We were self-titled rebels; our parents were strict, enforcing curfews and the like during ridiculous hours. So we did what any young ponies do in those cases: we snuck out of our homes and talked about what we’d do with our lives.’
Octavia allowed a slight giggle to escape her mouth, eliciting a slight blush in her cheeks.
‘We wanted to do whatever we could to record our rebellious nature. We tried writing stories, making diaries, confiding secrets in each other... but songwriting was the best of the bunch. Our idea was to become rockstars and use the songs we made when we grew old enough.’
‘Rock? But aren’t you against that type of music?’
‘Not particularly.’ Sonata drew in another deep breath and let it all out, an exasperated sigh. ‘See, we grew up and started playing the music... but Staccato grew to be so good at playing and making rock ballads with his piano that my lyrical services weren’t really needed anymore. He drifted into playing more formal songs—less about staying up past curfews and more of whatever randomly came out of his head. Soon, lyrics were cut altogether, and in his genius sprouted seclusion of the worst form. One day, he just didn’t speak altogether, so I hit my breaking point and left.’
Sonata hung her head low once more, prompting another round of pats from Waltz’s hoof. The trio stopped at a fork on the street, one way leading to Octavia’s home, the other way leading to a bridge connecting several more homes to the main part of town.
‘I-I’m sorry if that dug too deep, Sonata,’ Octavia stammered.
‘Don’t worry about it, Octavia,’ Sonata replied, shaking her head. ‘I’ve actually been waiting to tell someone about Staccato and I—well, I don’t think I was going to tell Vivace unless I wanted the entire town to start making rumours about us.’ The two mares shared a short giggle. ‘But that’s in the past. For now, I’m just focusing on how this will all turn out—I really do want the group to experience some well-deserved success. Especially when we have someone as talented as you.’
‘Oh goodness no—we’re all equally talented!’ Octavia said, her face glowing with a blush much redder than before. ‘That’ll show at our next concerto! See you tomorrow, you two!’
‘S-See you then, Octavia!’ Waltz called out, smiling brightly as he waved. Sonata joined in, and the two promptly turned and walked towards the bridge, leaving Octavia alone with her thoughts.
She walked down the short distance to her home.
It’s good to have ponies on your side. Even Waltz seemed to warm up to me!
A wispy cloud formed ahead of her. It quickly morphed into the figure of a mare.
No... ‘Go away!’
The figure looked at Octavia. This was not the same one that belonged to the theatre; its physical features—or lack thereof—were the same, but an empty, cold stare was present in the place of life. It did not exist.
This does not exist.
Octavia shut her eyes for several seconds, then reopened them. Nothing was out of place any longer; nevertheless, the cellist stood still. Waiting.
But nothing came.
This does not exist.
Octavia walked into her home and crashed on the sofa without a word. Vinyl was not there. Nor was Octavia.
~|D|~
‘A full house?’ Vivace gasped. ‘Does that look like a full house to you, Octy?’
Octavia took a glance over to Vivace, standing nervously behind the curtains shielding them from the audience beyond. Even on the dimly-lit backstage, Octavia could’ve sworn that she had goosebumps all over her.
‘Hello? Octy?’
Octavia blinked twice—before she could react, however, Staccato had made his way to to the curtains himself. After poking his head out for a quick moment, he looked to Vivace. ‘It’s not quite a full house,’ he corrected. ‘It’s definitely close, though. Doesn’t matter if there are a dozen or several hundred out there, though; we need to bring our A-game every night. Especially if that talent seeker is amongst the crowd.’
The remainder of the group approached the curtains, smiling with various instruments by their side—save for Staccato and Waltz, the latter bringing with him two felt-tipped mallets that hung securely from leather bands around his hooves. Octavia wordlessly got into position on the stage, grasping her cello with one hoof and her mahogany clamped in the other.
No one was speaking—no, Octavia thought, Staccato is saying something... I can see his lips moving—
A wisp hovered over Staccato. The musicians all stood in their proper positions, poised to play—but Octavia could only remain captivated by the wisp. She frowned, then smiled, then stood blankly.
‘Ponyville Music Hall welcomes one of Ponyville’s premier groups, the Ponyville Players, to play “Whisper in the Wind”,’ a deep, loud voice called from above. Applause soon followed.
Curtains.
The applause soon died down, and with it came calming beats from the timpani drum. As each instrument came into play, following Waltz’s rolling beat, their players took quick glances at Octavia. A small murmur coursed through the audience upon sight of the mare, who had been too busy staring at the alluring movements of the dancer on-stage to raise her playing arm.
Staccato, beginning to blush harder and harder as the murmurs continued to pass through, hit each key on his piano with more force than before. With it, the murmurs grew louder.
Finally, when he could take it no more, he hopped off of his piano and stormed towards Octavia. The audience gasped, and so did the dancer—in the span of a few seconds, the mirage stopped dancing, turned to Octavia and disappeared altogether without so much as a smile or a frown. Staccato, on the other hand, was most definitely frowning—complimenting his reddened face.
‘Octavia!’ he whispered harshly, bringing Octavia back to her senses. ‘What in Celestia’s name are you doing?’
‘I—’ Octavia looked out to the audience, still murmuring as they spoke. ‘I—’
‘We haven’t planned for improvisation! How do you expect us to cope with you not playing?’ Staccato looked to the audience and took in a deep breath. ‘Look, are you with us? Are you focused?’
‘I—yes.’
‘Then let’s get to it. We’ll talk about this later.’ Staccato sighed and walked over to his piano. Octavia raised her bow for the first time that night, set it on the strings and waited for Waltz’s beat to lead her in.
Octavia did not play a solo, nor could she look at her fellow Ponyville Players that gave her quick, worried glances as the night went on. The applause was lacking, and the dancer was not amongst the watchers.
Octavia did not want applause, nor did she care about her blunder. She longed for the dancer.
‘What in Celestia’s name was that?’ Staccato thundered, frustratedly waving his hooves about. ‘Do you have any idea what this could have cost us? What the public might think of us now?’
Octavia stood with her cello by her side in the Ponyville Music Hall’s back room, hanging her head down to the floor. No tears flowed from her eyes, but nevertheless her shoulders sagged and her hooves shuffled.
‘Staccato,’ Sonata said, standing amongst the remaining musicians to the side, ‘the audience didn’t look disgusted. I don’t think this will have a lasting imp—’
‘Did you not hear the murmurs?’ Staccato snapped. ‘We’re finally being given a chance to make it to the big stage and we get murmurs instead of applause. That simply won’t do. No, it won’t do at all...’ He paced himself around the room for several moments. ‘I-I think I need some time to cool off. No practice tomorrow, Ponyville Players.’
‘I... I think I might...’ Octavia mumbled, raising her eyes to meet Staccato’s.
‘What was that?’
‘I think I might come to practice on my own tomorrow. I can’t allow what happened out there to happen again.’
Staccato raised both of his eyebrows. ‘Oh... well! We will discuss this at a later date, but for now—now we should all get some rest before the next practice. Goodness knows I need some right now.’ With his parting words, he departed through the back door, several of his fellow players leaving by his side. Sonata and Vivace looked back expectantly.
‘Don’t worry about me, girls,’ Octavia insisted. ‘I just need to check up on something.’
The mares nodded their heads and followed Staccato out into the night.
Octavia heard a voice. Her cello was leaned up against a wall, then quickly forgotten. Every step the cellist took, the voice came closer and closer. When she found herself on-stage, the voice said one clearly audible word—Octavia swore she heard a sniffle afterwards.
Play...
There was nothing on the stage.
Octavia drew in a deep breath and sighed. Imagination, she thought. This is getting ridiculous. She walked over to the edge of the stage and sat down, hanging her rear hooves over the side. Her body leaned back, and she could see the top of the theatre.
It looked like a rotting, wooden roof at first; after a good, hard look, however, Octavia could make out the outlines of an earth pony next to another of its ilk—In an embrace. A stallion... and a mare.
Octavia sighed once more. I need to get my head straightened out...
Her eyelids grew heavier and heavier—within seconds, she was asleep.
~|D|~
‘Moss orava? Air yew areeght?’
A mumbling woke Octavia’s mind from her rest—most of her senses did not follow suit.
‘Miss Octavia? Are you alright?’ the voice repeated feebly. ‘Do you need some water? Dearest me, this is not at all what I expected...’
‘I... I’m sorry?’ Octavia replied. She opened her eyes, and found herself looking up to the same rooftop she had been the night before. As she lifted herself up—her back ached as she did so—her surroundings also bore familiarity. ‘Who’s there?’
‘Ah, you’re awake!’ the feeble voice replied behind Octavia. She got up on all fours and turned to see the voice’s owner—a grey, elderly stallion with a darker shade of grey colouring his mane. He was standing on his two rear hooves and leaning against a soaking-wet mop he held with the other two. ‘Was beginning to think you were dead!’
Octavia recoiled a touch at the comment—until he smiled a warm grin, a significant lack of teeth notwithstanding. ‘H-Hello?’ she said. ‘Why am I at the Hall?’
‘I’d imagine you were here all night—it’s early morning!’ The aged stallion gave a throaty chuckle. ‘What brought you here last night, miss Octavia?’
‘How do you know my name?’ Octavia questioned, rubbing her sore back.
‘I’ve seen you play oodles of times! Have to clean up after your whole group, too... one of your friends really likes to make a mess of herself, but I only know your name from your entire group. Miss Scratch told me lots about you!’
‘...Scratch?’ Octavia’s eyes widened. ‘How do you kn—’
‘Yes, I’ve seen you play. Wonderful young prodigy! Indeed, you and your group will go very far before all is said and done.’
‘Yes, thanks, but how do you—’
‘My father was a cleaner too. Loved this place since the day he was born til' the day he died! Celestia bless his kind soul.’ Octavia rolled her eyes as the stallion spoke. ‘You know, I found it quite interesting when you were sleeping while looking up at the building’s roof. Did you catch the artwork up there?’
Octavia nodded her head, judging that it was better not to speak lest she be interrupted again.
‘Sad that it’s in such rough shape now!’ The cleaner staggered over beside Octavia and looked up. ‘You know, there was once a stallion that did the same thing that you’re doing. He was rambling on and on about a dancer or some other nonsense right around where we’re standing—’
‘A dancer?’ Octavia lit up. ‘Did you say... dancer?’
The cleaner harrumphed and looked to Octavia gravely. ‘Goodness! When I was a kid, we never interrupted our elders!’
Octavia smiled sheepishly. ‘I-I’m sorry, do go on, mister...’
‘Mister,’ the stallion replied. ‘Most ponies just call me Mister, so that’s mostly what I take to now!’
‘Ah, yes... Mister.’ Octavia sighed. ‘Do go on.’
‘Where was I... yes! Dancing—my father told me all about the two ponies who built this place with their own two hooves. A mare and a stallion—my father was very young when they did so, only a young colt—were famous dancers in Manehattan. With the funds they had amassed for several years, they built a theatre in Ponyville with little outside help. Just their blood, sweat and tears... and their love, I guess, kept them going.’
‘What happened to them?’ Octavia wondered out loud.
‘They died!’
‘No... I mean after they built the theatre. Is it this one?’
‘Yes. Now, I hadn’t been born when the theatre was done, but I was pretty close. My father was appointed as the cleaner, and no one else was hired to work at the theatre--not sure why, really. Past that, I wouldn’t know. No one ever told me what happened to them after they made this old place.
‘But I do know that they were the best at what they did. Prodigies, those kids! A shame that they’re no longer with us... I might not have much left in my old bones either, maybe I’ll join them soon!’ Mister guffawed.
Octavia pondered for a moment. ‘You mentioned something about a stallion with the mare? I feel like I've heard about this mare before.’
‘A stallion? Oh, yes... the one who did what you're doing. He would come in every week and started playing music for no reason. Piano, specifically.’ Octavia did not interrupt, but when the cleaner wasn’t looking, she allowed herself another eye roll. ‘A strange one, he was. Would come in and play music, mumbling something about a mare... and wouldn’t you know it, he looked just like your pianist over there!’
‘Over where?’ Octavia looked around the theatre--towards the entrance, the other six members of her septet were walking towards the stage, most of them clutching jet-black instrument cases. She turned back to the aged stallion. ‘He... he was mumbling about a mare?’
‘I believe so. Unless my memory is acting up again—no! Why are you all messing up the theatre?’ Mister grudgingly—with great effort and Octavia’s helping hoof—lowered himself off of the stage and towards the faint splotches of muck that lay in the musicians’ wake.
‘Staccato?’ Octavia said. ‘What’s going on?’
Staccato dodged the incoming cleaner as he sped—relatively speaking--by. ‘My dear, you haven’t been here all night, have you?’ Octavia nodded, and Staccato looked to her, aghast. ‘My goodness! I had spoken with the rest of our troupe, and we wanted to surprise you by coming here early—are you still up for it? We can put some effort to rehearsing our "rock", too.’
Staccato, taking the staircase stage-left—Crazy old man forgot the stairs, Octavia thought idly—came up next to her and looked to her eagerly.
"Mumbling something about a mare"... did he really mean Staccato? The pianist smiled at her. I... ‘Sure, just let me go get my instrument. And Staccato,’ she said as an aside to the pianist, ‘could I have a quick word after we finish?’
‘If it’s quick, can we not just have it right now?’ he replied. ‘I’m in no rush—I might just forget to talk about it later anyway.’
Octavia opened her mouth to speak—something held her back. Staccato raised an eyebrow as Octavia stood in front of him, staring, slack-jawed. ‘What is it, Octavia?’
‘I—’ Octavia stumbled for words. ‘—I think... I think I felt stage fright or something last night.’
Staccato raised both of his eyebrows—before he could speak, an eavesdropping Vivace barged in and put her hoof on Octavia's shoulder.
‘Oh no!’ she exclaimed, giving Octavia a slight shake. ‘You’ve never had a problem with that before! Did you hit your head or something?’
‘I’m fine, honestly.’ Octavia lightly pushed Vivace’s hoof off of her shoulder and looked to both her and Staccato. ‘Don’t worry about me. What happened last night won’t happen again.’
Vivace and several other ponies cheered happily at the news—Staccato, however, remained unconvinced. Nevertheless, he walked over to his piano, still lying stage-left, and removed the cover without a word. His fellow musicians did the same with their instrument cases.
‘I’ll just be a moment,’ Octavia said, retreating backstage. ‘My cello is in the back room.’
‘Yes, yes...’ Staccato laid down his piano cover and walked over to Octavia, away from the rest of the group. ‘Octavia, you know very well that we consider you family, right? We were very concerned for you last night... I wasn’t trying to sound vicious or anything on the stage. I just wanted things to work out quickly before the whole thing turned even worse than it already was.’
‘I understand, Staccato.’ Octavia smiled. ‘I was only thinking of my blunder, not at all about some silly grudge against you.’
‘No no, don’t think of yourself like that. You didn’t make a terrible mistake. It was a mistake, sure—’ Staccato smiled sheepishly. ‘—but don’t beat yourself up over it. We’ve moved past it, and so should you.’
‘Thanks, Staccato.’ Octavia turned away.
‘Oh, and Octavia?’
‘Yes, Staccato?’
‘Another thing about families, you know’—Staccato narrowed his eyes—’is that they don’t lie to each other. An incident we can get past, but dishonesty is a terrible mistake and should be regarded as such. You keep that in mind.’
Staccato broke off from the conversation to return to his piano, leaving Octavia breathless where she stood. He saw right through me, she thought. Her stomach felt queasy and her legs shook.
She practiced, but she wasn’t truly there. Something about the day had gotten to her, but she wasn’t sure which part was the worst of it.
~|D|~
Octavia walked up to her home in the noon-day sun—no one had been walking with her. Her body reeked of sweat and her stomach roared; all forgotten, however, when she saw a note on the door, addressed only to herself.
octavia,
hey, its vinyl. i was planning on mentioning this to you before, but i wont be in town for a few days... ive got some stuff i need to do in a different place. tried to make this look like a letter... thought youd appreciate me having a sincerely thing at the end, looks formal like that.
Octavia chuckled.
so yeah, sorry for leaving all of a sudden... didnt think you would be staying overnight on your day off or anything. hooray for you, your social life is slightly better than it was before. Octavia chuckled again. dont party too hard without me.
sincerely vinyl
Octavia took the letter inside with her and left it sitting on her living room’s window sill, quickly forgotten. The room still reeked of uncleanliness, and the floor was still littered with this-and-thats from before. She didn’t care, though—she crashed on the couch, the nearest place of rest, for the third day in a row.
But for the first time in those days, her mind was at ease. Her thoughts were not to Vinyl, nor to the cleaner. Someone else had seen the dancer before—she exists, she thought, and that was amazing.
~|D|~
‘Alto, will you stay with me forever?’
A mare and a stallion looked up at their creation—a wooden building, with the words “Music Hall” engraved at the front on fresh hardwood with a smell of a mid-summer’s day wafting in the air
‘Yes, Allegrezza. Nothing will keep me apart from you.’ Alto pulled Allegrezza closer to him. The two walked into the building together, never keeping more than a few inches apart. Past the double doors, a brand new auditorium filled their senses with wonder. The smell of newly-rolled carpet excited their nostrils and crimson red walls brightened up the room.
The pair slowly walked up the aisle towards the stage, savouring every moment they shared.
‘Oh, Alto... let’s dance forever!’
Allegrezza closed her eyes and rested her head on Alto’s shoulders.
A deafening applause drowned out a mare's deep panting onstage, expanding and depressing her lemon-yellow chest with each breath she took. At every movement of her torso, a slight rustle shook her long, straight brown mane.
The theatre looked no different as it always had to her—a flawless room with walls of polished hardwood and a ceiling of ornately-hewn stone. Her exhausted face peered out to the roaring crowd, studying their reactions curiously as they gushed out their praise. The spotlight's shine focused on her fizzled out and the velvet curtain ahead of her began to close, beckoning her backstage.
Taking no more notice of the waning cheers, the mare turned and left the auditorium. She took in a deep breath, then let out a sigh and pushed open the back door—her exhaustion quickly turned into excitation at the sight of the figure inside. He was a moderately-built brown earth stallion with a short yellow mane, a delicate smile etched on his face.
‘Allegrezza!’ the stallion exclaimed, holding out his hoof shaking with excitement. His glossy eyes, in the bright light of the backstage room, reflected Allegrezza's figure—reminding her that he came to her not as a dream as she had been accustomed to, but as the one she truly loved. The initial surprise faded, and she flung herself into his hooves, ending in a warm embrace.
‘Oh Alto, it's been so long!’ A gasp escaped Allegrezza's mouth as the embrace loosened. ‘But why are you here? Were you not supposed to be dancing in Manehattan on this lovely soirée?’
Alto merely chuckled in response. ‘I have been apart from you for far too long; no manager can keep me from seeing your beautiful face, my love!’
‘Alto, it pains me to see this theatre in other ponies’ hooves after they took it away from us...’ Allegrezza let out a deep sigh. 'Let's leave all of this behind! I'm sick of dancing for worthless coin!'
‘All in good time, my sweet. I need only a week’s worth of funds for us to start our free lives together.’ Alto paused for a moment, inspecting the decorated room they resided in. A thick red rug beneath them gave the pair warmth around their hooves, and the walls of the ornately-hewn room were fitted with a similar material.
‘But the waiting, Alto—’
‘Like another lifetime apart, I know. But we must make this sacrifice to reach our happiness. But for now,’ Alto clapped his front hooves together, ending the embrace, ‘we dance for ourselves!’
‘But what about your unexpected absence tonight? What if we get suspended?’
‘My dear, even the best in the business are sometimes misunderstood—they are only punished with silly talking-tos. They cannot afford to kick us out! Now, no more talk; let us dance!’
~|D|~
Octavia put down her cello into its velvet-lined case and sighed—another concert, another night of disappointment. The Ponyville Music Hall’s back room wasn’t devoid of life, but the feeling was nearly there—especially for Octavia.
‘Hey,’ Vivace started, placing her own instrument in a similar case to Octavia’s. ‘You doing alright, Octy?
‘Yes, I’m fine,’ Octavia replied, eyeing Vivace’s case with sudden interest. ‘New case? I thought yours was yellow.’
Vivace smiled as she closed her case. ‘Well, I thought since we’re going to be such big superstars that we should act the part. Black is a lot more professional than yellow, you know!’
Octavia chuckled. ‘Yeah, I guess that makes sense. Hey, have you seen St—’
‘Ponyville Players,’ a voice bellowed—Staccato's, Octavia observed. ‘I would like to welcome you to someone about whom I’ve heard a great many things: say hello to Star Gazer, one of the most famous music managers on the east side of Equestria!’
In walked a white-faced stallion—Octavia could not see anything past his visage, as his extravagant garb covered his entire body and the top of his head. At the very least, his head was covered with your everyday plain black top hat; the rest of the outfit—looking more like a thin blanket secured around his neck and hanging below his invisible hooves—was another matter entirely. It was a light-blue fixture with clashing colours of black and crimson striping down its length. A few gems were also dotted here and there, coloured yellow, green or purple—sometimes a combination of the three. His stance was not haughty, but it was not humble and withdrawing either; he had an air of flamboyance and professionalism rolled into one package.
Even how he spoke was bizarre: boisterous and outgoing, but a soft, eastern-like accent was still salvageable. ‘And a good day to you too, my good Staccato! A wonderful looking group you have here,' he added, inspecting each member with widened eyes.
'I trust you enjoyed the performance, mister Gazer?' Staccato inquired, a twinkle sparkling in his eyes.
'Goodness, I was expecting a bit of an introduction first—I'm particularly interested in hearing about your ravishing cellist over there.' Gazer gave Octavia a suggestive wink, to which a blush quickly filled her cheeks. ‘I’ve heard quite a few things about you, my dear. While your technical prowess is undoubtable, I’ve also caught word about an... edge, so to speak, that you possess. Normally, the lack of such a creative piece would prompt me to dismiss the rumours and be on my way, but I figured a gorgeous mare such as yourself would be able to explain what went wrong properly.’
‘I—’ Octavia paused for a moment. ‘Well, others claimed that I did have a creative edge... I assure you, it does exist. What happened tonight won’t happen again.’
‘Very well,’ Gazer said, offering Octavia a polite smile. ‘Then we have no more to discuss. Show me what you’ve got, Ponyville Players, and don’t hold back—and while you have the hooves to run several miles, I want to see you win the hundred-yard dash.’
Staccato raised a hoof in protest. ‘Mister Gazer, please—’
‘No need, no need.’ Star Gazer smiled. ‘I’m sure that you’re all prepared for this, anyway. You did just perform.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘There will be time for chatter later, my friend. Even the absolute best in the business slip up and have an off night every now and again, and I’m sure that with a different mindset, you’ll have a much more energetic performance.’
Gazer pranced out of the room, leaving a group of musicians scratching their heads and looking to each other, unsure of what to do next.
‘So...’ Octavia said, ‘...should we go play for him, Staccato?’
‘He’s certainly here as the talent seeker, so there is no question whether we should or shouldn’t perform.’ Staccato sighed. ‘It’s very unfortunate that we had to get a strange one, though. His racing metaphor made no sense, and I’m not sure if we can perform as he—’
Vivace rushed over to Staccato and pressed a hoof on his mouth. ‘Not so fast, Staccy!’ she said, ignoring the protests attempting to break free from the pianist’s mouth. ‘You want this... we all want this. This is the last step we need to take, don’t you see?’
The other musicians nodded their heads. Clef—or Treble—said: ‘She’s right, Staccato. Just look at Vivace: she’s all sorts of crazy, and she’s still in the group!’
Vivace lowered her hoof, and Staccato looked to every Ponyville Player in turn. Swallowing hard, he walked over to the room’s exit. ‘Alright, folks. Just like we rehearsed, eh? I mean, we haven’t actually performed this piece even once so far, but that doesn’t mean anything will go wrong, right?’
No one answered. With sweat running down their backs and fake smiles etched on their faces, they picked up their respective instruments and tools and proceeded on-stage, all pleading for their big break.
This was their one chance at crafting their cadence—but only for Ponyville. The cadence would only make way for a new section in the Ponyville Players’ grand piece.
~|D|~
Trembling hooves clutched instruments on-stage as Star Gazer, seated front row in Ponyville Music Hall, watched. The Players looked to each other, waiting for a signal to start—Staccato nodded his head. Octavia lowered her bow onto her cello, closed her eyes, and then—
‘Hold on, my good mares and stallions!’ Gazer called out, rising from his seat. ‘Hold it, please. This isn’t right, no... not right at all. It just isn’t proper to not have an audience, now is it?’
The musicians stood with their instruments, perplexed, but still ready to play. ‘I’m sorry?’ Staccato replied. ‘I thought you wanted us to play—’
‘Yes, I most certainly did. You must surely see, though, that this setting is terribly inadequate. A small theatre, a lack of an audience: terrible things that hinder the overall flair of a musical piece. I’m sure you agree, my good Staccato?’
Most of the players on stage looked to each other, shrugging; Staccato, on the other hand, brightened up. His eyes widened and he nearly flew right out of his piano bench and towards the front of the stage.
‘Are you suggesting what I think you’re suggesting, mister Gazer?’ Staccato asked in a somewhat fanboyish tone.
‘If you’re thinking about how run-down the decor is in this place, then yes. Atrocious, really—needs a full reinvention.’
‘Well, yes—I mean, no, that wasn’t what I was thinking about.’ Staccato cleared his throat. ‘...As you were saying, mister Gazer?’
Star Gazer was staring at the ceiling, scratching his chin. ‘Yes, this needs work—ah! I seem to have gotten off-track; I would like your group to come to Manehattan with me to try your luck with the crowd as an opening act. It won’t be for one of our bigger groups like the Lonely Hooves Club Band, but I trust you will still perform well all the same.’
The ponies on-stage stood, mystified, as Gazer awaited his response. Octavia took a double take—the circumstances surrounding something so exciting was highly unusual, and she wasn’t sure what to do.
‘Did I say something wrong?’ Gazer inquired, raising an eyebrow. ‘Wouldn’t you lot like a chance in Manehattan? It has a fantastic amphitheatre where I could truly take in your skills and judge your future for true.’
Staccato stumbled for words before eventually making several out: ‘We—why, yes! We would be immeasurably delighted to come with you!’
Gazer smiled, then made his way up the stairs leading to the stage. ‘Wonderful. We will be departing in two days’ time—that should give you ample time to prepare and for me to speak with my correspondent here. Don’t worry about saying goodbye to too many ponies, though; you might not even get to stay in Manehattan, should you fail to impress me!’
Vivace turned to face Octavia, and gulped. Words were not needed to express the importance of succeeding.
‘Right, then. Thank you, all of you, for meeting me on this fine night. I trust you will also bring some appropriate vestments for our little escapade; they add a certain... je ne sais quoi to the performance, if you will.’ Gazer turned and walked off-stage, his “robe” shimmering behind him with every stride. ‘In two days, my good ponies!’
The peculiar stallion proceeded out the front door with a short ‘ta-ta’.
‘...Gee,’ Octavia said, ‘some artists are a little too strange.’ Everyone else in the room nodded their heads, keeping their excitement—and confusion—bottled up. Octavia judged that it was better to leave the emotions until after they had succeeded.
~|D|~
‘Hey, you. You should clean your room—it’s kind of weird to see you around a mess.’
Octavia struggled to open her eyes. The short sleep the night before was taking its toll.
‘Yeah, I know you can hear me. Why didn’t you tell me, Taves?’
Vinyl’s voice was unmistakable, especially when she was irritated. Octavia opened her eyes and blinked—sure enough, she was staring her down from beside her bed, the lack of shades covering her eyes making her all the more intimidating.
‘Hrm... tell you what, Vinyl?’
‘Hey, you awake yet? You know what I’m talking about, Taves, and I only heard about it this morning. I have my sources.’
Oh. ‘Ah, right. Can I get up before you yell in my ear some more?’
Vinyl took a few steps back, then scratched her head. ‘Sorry. I was just a little shocked that you wouldn’t tell me about that sooner—you’re not the kind of mare who keeps many secrets.’
Octavia’s eyes widened; she knew what Vinyl was referring to, but her mind shifted to another secret, one she had struggled to face before. She shuddered.
‘You were asleep last night, Vinyl,’ Octavia replied, rising from her bed and rubbing her sore eyes. ‘I came home pretty late. Did you want me to wake you?’
‘Well, I suppose that makes sense.’ Octavia rolled her eyes as Vinyl spoke, and shifted out of bed. ‘I can’t believe you’re leaving, though. It’s going to be really lonely here all on my own.’
‘It’s just a test run to impress the talent seeker that arrived in town last night. There’s no guarantee that we’ll stay there for more than a couple days—of course, I wouldn’t mind moving there permanently.’ Octavia saw her reflection in Vinyl’s eyes. ‘W-Well, I’d be visiting fairly often. The train to Ponyville doesn’t take very long.’
Vinyl chuckled. ‘Talent seeker, eh? Pretty crazy that you attracted one here—say, this is your last day, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Every famous musician needs something to set them apart... visually, I mean. You’ve got the talent part down solid, as far as I’ve seen.’ Vinyl took a glance at the black cello case in the corner of the room. ‘Rarity’s Boutique might have something perfect for you, do you want to go take a look? It’d really spice up your look—not that you don’t look good already.’
Octavia blushed and scratched the back of her head. ‘That does sound nice, the talent seeker mentioned something like that. But why would you of all ponies suggest that?’
‘I dunno, maybe I’m just feeling weird today.’ Vinyl quickly turned and made her way out of the room, stopping at the door’s arch. ‘You coming or what?’
‘I’ll be there in a second,’ Octavia replied. Vinyl shrugged and left the room; a short while later, a door opened and shut. Tomorrow, she thought. I might not see that theatre for a long time... dancer—
Octavia blinked repeatedly. Her eyes caught a wide-open, empty blue suitcase she had brought out the night before; the eventual contents of the bag were scattered around the floor. I’ll get to them later, she judged. The cellist rushed to catch up with her friend.
~|D|~
‘If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were going to miss me, Vinyl.’
‘H—’ Vinyl blushed, and aimlessly looked to the sky. ‘No, I’m happy for you. The only reason I suggested shopping was for your sake; you wouldn’t catch me dead in a boutique even if you were leaving forever.’
Octavia smiled. ‘Uh-huh. I believe you.’
‘What have you got planned for tonight, Taves? You leave tomorrow, so you ought to have a rocking party planned, right?’
Octavia glanced to her right—a building, almost as wide as the Ponyville Music Hall and certainly much shorter, lay empty on the side of the street. On the front were several images of cider mugs plastered on tainted glass windows, reminding Octavia of a different time. A time long gone.
‘...A time long gone.’
‘What was that, Taves?’ Vinyl caught Octavia’s eyes as they glanced over. ‘Ah, the Applespice Café. Great choice, good times. We’ll head over tonight once you’re done packing or whatever, eh?’
Octavia shook out of her trance. ‘Uh, er... the Applespice Cafe? We haven’t been there in ages.’
The duo walked across a short bridge overlooking Ponyville River, Applespice Café getting farther and farther away as they approached Carousel Boutique at their front. ‘I’m sure the bartender remembers you. He said so himself: “I remember all of my regulars, whether it’s been ten days or ten years since I saw them last”. Surely you wouldn’t mind even a quick drink or two?’
‘Vinyl—’
‘Why, hello!’ a voice trilled, interrupting a sighing Octavia. The door of the boutique had swung open, leaving Vinyl and Octavia facing a rather pleased-looking Rarity. ‘Were you coming for an appointment?’
‘An... appointment?’ Octavia asked hesitantly. ‘I’ve never gone dress shopping before; I have no idea how it works.’
‘Oh, my dear—’ Rarity sniffed and sharply turned her head, facing indoors ‘—Sweetie, that better not be you making dinner! You know how... ah, I beg my pardon, you two. Sisters are quite a hassle, aren’t they?’
Octavia nodded her head, unsure of how to answer.
‘Oh, you’re the cellist for the Ponyville Players, aren’t you?’ Rarity smiled brightly, and her eyes twinkled. ‘Goodness, I loved that performance a week or two ago—it really was quite the show!’
‘Yes, that’s me. Would you mind if I took a look at your dresses? I need one by tomorrow morning, and my friend here figured you’d have some in stock.’
‘Ah...’ Rarity blushed. ‘I’m terribly sorry, but not only would we need to take some measurements—need an appointment for that—got one bright and early in the morning, goodness me—but I’ve been excruciatingly busy as of late, what with preparations for the Summer Sun Celebration that’s only... a few days away! It doesn’t hurt that my baby sister is here messing around until my parents can find a place to stay.’
Octavia smiled sheepishly—She’s a chatty one.
‘I’m sorry for bothering you, miss...’
‘Rarity, darling.’
‘Miss Rarity, I apologize for taking up some of your busy schedule for this misunderstanding. I hope we’ll meet again; I’m heading up to Manehattan for an audition, so to speak.’
Vinyl nudged Octavia, and whispered: ‘Formal. Classy.’
‘You won’t be performing in Ponyville anymore?’ Rarity frowned. ‘A shame, you are all so very talented. The best of luck to you all!’
Octavia and Vinyl both nodded their head as Rarity hastily shut the door behind her. ‘She’s a busy one, that mare,’ Octavia noted.
‘She’s busy with the nine-hundred-and-ninety-ninth Summer Sun Celebration—I’d be pretty rushed if I were her. It’d be pretty rad to work on ponies’ dresses for that, but rushed nonetheless. Sucks that you didn’t get your dress, though—I’d probably bring some bits along with you to Manehattan. They’ve probably got lots of places there to buy dresses and stuff.’’
The duo made their way back across the bridge, both of them taking another glance at Applespice Café.
‘I think I’ll go check with the bartender to see if there are any events going on at the bar tonight,’ Vinyl said. ‘You go ahead and pack your stuff, I have some... other matters to attend to after tonight.
‘Very well. I’ll see you tonight, Vinyl.’
‘Oh, you’ll see me tonight. Both of us are going to raise our mugs to you, and it’ll be the last night before you become a superstar.’ Vinyl smiled. ‘See you then, Octavia.’
Octavia waved to Vinyl as she entered the bar. I’m really going through with this, she thought. I might not see her for a long time.
‘Alto, this is the third night in a row we’ve danced in this room. Shouldn’t we go someplace else to have some private time?’
Alto, frowning unimpressively, broke his close embrace with Allegrezza and stared in disbelief. ‘You can’t be serious! Leave the theatre we created together? This, our true home, and you wish to abandon it?’ he questioned sternly, his voice rising with every word.
‘Don’t talk so loud! Someone might be nearby—’
‘Let them come! I care not if I am discovered, this was built because of our handiwork. This land was not supposed to be theirs! I am indifferent to whatever deed they claim makes this place their own. And they call it Ponyville’s Theatre?' Alto snorted. 'If they can spend their own blood, sweat, and tears for love, I will give this place up at a moment’s notice!’
‘Honey, please—’
Alto paused for a moment, watching the door to the auditorium. ‘See? Just as I had thought. There is no one here, we have nothing to worry about. Now, the night grows thin; let us dance once more!’
A creaking noise crept up from behind the dancers as they re-embraced, followed by a grey hoof poking out from the auditorium door. Slowly, the rest of the shocked stallion to which the hoof belonged revealed himself, his middle-aged eyes widening in surprise.
‘You... you’re that dancer from Manehattan! You aren’t supposed to be here!’ he said in a rushed, accusing tone.
‘Now, mister—’
‘I may just be a lowly cleaner, but I can—and will—tell the manager that you’re here! He’ll be furious, and he’ll contact the manager in Manehattan, and... just leave or else I will!’
Allegrezza swallowed down and looked to the stallion. ‘Please, mister... cleaner. We won’t be in your way, can’t you just leave us in peace?’
‘If my manager found out I didn't tell him, I’d get fired on the spot, no questions asked. You know how he is.’
‘This is ridiculous,’ Alto shot in. ‘It is not your manager’s theatre, it is ours! You cannot hope to intimidate us with such idle threats!’
The cleaner snorted in disgust. ‘I’m an honest pony, I don’t just lie to everyone on the whim of two hotshot lovers, especially not to my own boss. Now, he lives just down the street from the theatre, and I’m sure he wouldn’t mind telling the other manager where his star dancer is, eh?’
‘We'd both get fired!’
‘Exactly. Now, get out before I lose my job.’
Alto sighed in defeat and turned to Allegrezza, his eyebrows curving worriedly. ‘Don’t you worry about saying goodbye,’ Allegrezza chimed in, smiling, ‘because I’m certain we’ll see each other again very soon. Someday, we can—and will—leave together. Today is not that day, but it will come.’
‘Hey, you know I can still hear everything you’re saying, right?’ the keeper commented, raising his hoof in the air. ‘I’m right here—and if you don’t leave right now, I’ll tell the manager about that little scheme, too.’
‘I musn’t tarry much longer, my love. I will see you soon, I promise!' Alto turned to the aged pony. 'And as for you, my good sir, I wish you much success with your future!’
Alto received an uncomforting “harrumph” in response.
Not a second later, Alto was out the back door into the starry night of Ponyville, leaving Allegrezza with only her sighs and the theatre’s resident cleaner.
‘You’d be better off not dealing with that type. He may seem like your true love, but he’ll just leave you out of a job. I would just hope that he never returned and say “good riddance” to the whole thing. Phooey!’
The cleaner, too, left the room, through the auditorium door and away from sight.
He will return. He will return...
For the next several weeks, as Allegrezza had expected, Alto showed neither hoof nor mane of himself anywhere near Ponyville. It was difficult, but she continued to dance for Ponyville night after night. After sending some mail in and receiving none in reply during all that time, anxiousness filled her more and more every day.
Weeks turned into months, which quickly turned into a full year without any sight of Alto. Worry kept her from sleeping at night, and the elusive stallion was all that she could think about when performing her routine.
No contact. No sign of his appearance. Not even a response from her hundreds of letters sent to the Manehattan Theatre.
And one day, she decided to simply never leave the theatre. Even after countless years, she never did leave. She just kept on dancing, always waiting for someone.
Someone who never showed up.
~|D|~
The scent of hard cider and sweaty underlegs filled the Applespice Café, the local cider joint for Ponyville. It wasn’t the finest cider around, that honour belonged to the Apple family; nonetheless, it was still a regular night hotspot for ponies looking for a little bit of a break.
For Octavia and Vinyl, it looked to be their final break together.
‘Hey, come an’ have shumthin’ from the real bar, Taves!’ Vinyl said slurredly, sitting on a tall bar stool with a mug of foaming brown cider held tightly in her hoof. ‘Thersh no need to be drinkin’ that weak schtuff you call a drink! Come get shumthin’ real maresh drink, y’know?’
Octavia sat at the bar stool next to her soon-to-be ex-roommate, holding a tall wine glass half-filled with an untouched crimson liquid in her hoof. Turning to Vinyl, she raised an eyebrow and frowned.
‘And get drunk like you? I thought you weren’t going to have that much to drink tonight.’
‘Drunk? No way! Me, the mosht level-headed mare thish shide of Canterlot! Why, there should be shome kinda medal for how reshponshible I am!’
Octavia rolled her eyes and turned back to her glass, swirling it around a few times without spilling a drop. Her mind wandered for several moments before shrugging, picking up the glass and letting some of the liquid go down her throat. She winced.
A little strong, she thought. Her mind wavered to the figure inside the Ponyville Music Hall, then she took a look at her glass. Bottoms up.
The cellist took another long sip of her drink, then turned to see the half-sleeping mare lying her head on the bar counter with her mug half-empty. Over her head, she could see a few other ponies sitting at a table, discussing something unintelligible—every few seconds, they shot an accusing glare towards Vinyl.
Can’t talk about anything to her in her present state, that’s for sure.
‘Ya know, I’ve alwaysh felt shomething deep inshide of me,’ Vinyl said, pointing her free hoof to her chest. ‘Riiiiiiight here. The heart. Y’know, like where ya feel shtuff.’
‘Shh, not so loud... you'll get us in trouble!’
‘Why do youcare? You’re not even drinking yer shissy drink! Ya don’t even need to be here!’
‘Vinyl?’ At this point, most of the eyes in the bar were staring accusingly, some at Vinyl, some at Octavia. ‘I think we’ve spent long enough in he—’
‘I jush lurvsto help ya, Taves! Yer the only friend I have in thish whole place, sho I helped ya. Y’know that Gazer fella?’
‘Vinyl, please—’
‘Hesh not a talent sheeker, I’m the talent sheeker! I shaw yer concert and told him and he shaid “shure” and schtuff and he...’ Vinyl finished, trailing off before crashing her head back on the table in a stupor. ‘And he...’
‘Miss Octavia?’ the bartender, a well-built stallion cleaning a mug on the other side of the bar counter, inquired. ‘I'm not about to tell a couple of old regulars to leave or anything, but your friend is causing quite a bit of trouble. If things were less quiet in here, I wouldn't mind, but the—'
'—And he came here becaush I shaid sho!' Vinyl proclaimed, raising her head for one last hurrah before crashing it down on the counter again.
'Vinyl!' Octavia shot. 'This is not what I expected from you—well, I didexpect it, but it still doesn't make this right.'
Vinyl lifted her head briefly, smiled a wide, toothy grin, and laid a hoof on Octavia’s shoulder. Her other hoof reached out for her empty mug, but before she could, the bartender had snatched it away for cleaning.
‘Vinyl,’ Octavia said, ‘how many mugs of cider have you had to drink?’
‘I dunno, maybe twoooo? I shaw three more, but I know you had those onesh, right? Yer the one who should be kinda tipshy, not me!’ Vinyl lifted herself from the bar stool and stumbled to the door. ‘Lesh go, the bartender ruined our fun.’
Octavia looked with worry to her friend, who stood by the door, puzzled by its mechanics. Octavia frowned.
‘I’ll pay for the two of us,’ Octavia said, retrieving and laying down several golden coins from her saddlebag hanging from the bar stool. ‘Five mugs of cider and one glass of cherry wine, right? I’m so dreadfully sorry about my friend, so I added a few bits as a tip.’
‘Much obliged, Miss Octavia,’ the bartender replied, smiling. ‘Just like old times, eh? It’s a shame you’ll be leaving for... Fillydelphia, was it?’
Octavia frowned. ‘How did you kno—Vivace, right.’
The bartender chuckled. Octavia looked again to Vinyl, waved to the bartender and took off to give her a helping hoof.
‘Let’s go; we need to get you home.’ Octavia pulled open the glass-laden bar door, and Vinyl soon followed her out into the dimly-lit outdoors. After taking a few steps, she collapsed, lying on the ground belly-up with a frown on her face and eyes shut tight.
‘No, I’m drunk!’ Vinyl said. ‘I had to be drunk on the day when yer leavin’! The lasht thing we'll ever do ish bring me home! I’m a-a ho-ho-horrible pony!’
A few tears ran down the sides of Vinyl’s face, trailing until they reached the grass underneath her. Octavia shook her head.
‘You’re drunk. I know. I’ve seen you drunk before and, honestly, it’s not a big deal. You can say goodbye to me tomorrow—right now, you need your rest.’
‘R-really?’ Vinyl said, curving her mouth back into a smile. Her eyes opened to gleaming crimson colour, visible through tears even in the absence of significant light. ‘That shounds like a good idea to me!’
Vinyl closed her eyes and laid her head down on the grass, knocked out too fast for Octavia to react. She looked down at the sleeping figure, curled up in the fetal position as a thin stream of saliva escaped her mouth and onto the ground.
'Aww, isn't that... adorable, I guess?'
Octavia had been through this routine before. In a practiced motion, she put her hooves underneath Vinyl's unconscious self and lifted up, grunting a little at the effort as she walked out to the starry night.
'Ergh... walking like this with a heavy burden sucks. Another pair of hooves would've been great.' Octavia paused for a moment. 'Eh, maybe it's best that Vivace opted out. Wouldn't know what her reaction to this would be... hm, you’ve gained weight, Vinyl.’
Octavia’s mind shifted to a possibility—one where she wasn’t there, and Vinyl still faced a night of drinking. Her stomach churned.
‘A fine thing this would be alone, you know. Just please... please don’t keep doing stuff like this.’ Even though she knew Vinyl could not hear her, Octavia smiled. Everything was going to work out fine.
~|D|~
Octavia left her home as silently as she could—as she closed the door, she paused for a moment. Will she be alright? she thought. ...Yeah, I guess so. The only thing I’ll have to worry about is her nasty hangover in the morning.
She began walking. Where she was walking, she did not know, even though the night sky was still young. Her thoughts idled until she came to a river—looking down, an unmuddled reflection in crystal clear water. A shimmer, and another figure took her face’s place.
An ethereal figure.
Octavia did not look at it long enough to see it clearly, but she knew what it was as soon as she had caught a glimpse. There was someone she needed to see, and fast.
Knock knock.
Ponyville Theatre was closed. She had to try anyway.
Knock knock. The impact on the theatre’s door came down harder. Several seconds, and no response.
Knock—
A click prompted Octavia to stop before her second knock, followed by a slow, ominous creaking sound as the door squeaked open. Although the night had gotten darker, the moon’s light shone on the figure opening the door, showing Octavia his aged face.
'Huh? Who's out there knocking on my door?' the stallion called out, squinting as he looked at Octavia. 'Say, you're one of those hooligans coming to stay here and wreck the place, aren't you? Well, my manager didn't just put me on night shift for nothing! I've got nothing to lose and I'm ready for a scrappin'!'
As the stallion raised a hoof in self-defense, Octavia raised her own, signifying peace. ‘Whoa there! It's just me, Octavia!'
'Octavia? The music mare?' he questioned, his voice laced with suspicion. 'I could barely see you through this darned night. Shouldn't you be preparing to leave for Manehattan tomorrow? It's pretty late to be out wandering the streets.’
'How did you know about that?'
'My manager was a little disheartened when I took my shift, so I asked him what was going on.' The keeper let out a brief chuckle. 'Your group were his strongest performers. But don't stay out in the dark! Come on in!'
It wasn't much brighter inside, but what little light remained from the moon shining through the windows was enough to see the space the keeper had been cleaning and, vaguely, to see each other's faces.
'The manager thinks the place will start to go down without its star act, but I'm sure we'll manage somehow.' The keeper grumbled to himself. 'So, what do you need at this late hour? I’ve got the rest of the night here; I’m all ears.’
Octavia hesitated for a moment. The stallion gave her a gentle look, and she sputtered: ‘D-Do you know anything about that... that dancer you mentioned a while ago?’
‘Dancer? We get plenty of those come in through the week. A lot of them are quite pretty,’ the stallion added, looking up to the ceiling with a smile.
Octavia groaned. ‘No, not them. I mean the dancer who made this place.’
‘Who?’ the stallion replied, losing interest in the ceiling. ‘I don’t recall any dancer making this place, but I remember the stallion who made it... a musician, I believe? A stage manager?’
‘The one your dad told you ab—wait, the stallion? Do you know anything about him?’
‘He went to Manehattan or something, maybe FIllydelphia... Vanhoover? Eh, I can’t remember everything. It probably started with an “m”, or maybe an “r”. Can’t say I know too much about the stallion, though, other than him making the theatre and moving away.’
Octavia sighed. ‘Well, thanks anyway. I initially came to—’ Octavia caught a glint of the stage in the dim light, ‘—to get one last look at the place before I left. Can’t leave without saying goodbye.’
‘Well, take your time. This place ain’t going anywhere.’
A soft whistling music escaped the stallion’s mouth as he went through a row of seats, inspecting every cushion with a passing glance. Octavia took a full look at the stage, and pondered.
Could I call the dancer right now, see her one last time?
Octavia turned to the whistling pony close by. ...Ah, I wouldn’t have been able to anyway. She sniffed, and promptly turned to face the door—her steps were short, but she eventually made her way outside without saying so much as a “goodbye” to the keeper. A single tear flowed from both of her eyes, an ensuing stream quelled by an unknown force.
That force, she thought. I won’t be feeling it again. Not in there.
~|D|~
A clock’s alarm had been neglected the night before. In its place, a new alarm reared its white and blue-maned face over Octavia.
'Hey, yo... shouldn't you be getting ready for Manehattan? It's like—' The speaker, Vinyl, looked at Octavia’s clock with rubbed-out, bloodshot eyes. '—ten-ten.'
'Hrm... ah?' Octavia's own bloodshot eyes were just beginning to open as she uttered incomprehensible sounds. 'Whozzat? Can't be Vinyl... hangover...'
'Yeah, I know I have a hangover. I'm not sure how I even got out of bed, frankly.'
The half-asleep cellist opened her eyes further and looked up in disbelief. 'Vinyl... up 'fore me? Must be dreamin'...'
‘If it were a dream, then I’m your knight in shining armour—here to take you away to Manehattan. You’re all packed, right?’
Octavia nodded her head.
‘Well, then we had better get going. Last time I checked—’ Vinyl yawned once more. ‘—ten-ten was morning. Late morning, even.’
Octavia groaned.
‘What about that dress?’ Vinyl said, scratching her head. ‘You gonna find one in Manehattan or something?’
‘Yeah, I guess so,’ Octavia replied, getting her hooves out of bed with a steady lurch. ‘Say, about the stuff you said last night...’
‘Huh. If you’re about to say what I think you’re about to say, then I guess I didn’t just dream about that.’
Octavia continued, and smiled: ‘...Thanks, Vinyl. We wouldn’t even be in this position if it wasn’t for you.
Vinyl rubbed the back of her neck and blushed. ‘Well... well, we should get going. I’ll wait out front.’ As she quickly walked out of the room, Octavia smiled. A door opened, then shut, Octavia following close behind with a suitcase rolling behind her. Her left hoof struggled with the load—Seems heavier than it was before, she thought, grunting and sweating her way to the door.
The door opened once more, with Vinyl’s hoof up against the frame. She smiled.
‘Need another hoof with that, Tavi?’
'No, no—that's quite alright,' Octavia said, grunting with every tug. Vinyl placed a hoof on Octavia's chest, then pointed up to her horn.
'Did you forget about my magic?' Vinyl said, chuckling. 'Really, it's no trouble at all.'
Octavia nodded her head, and soon the bag hovered over the ground, enveloped in a light blue glow. Vinyl shut the door, and the two began walking away from their home.
'Are you feeling okay, Vinyl?'
'Hmm?'
'I mean... are you okay with me leaving and everything? I know it was done on fairly short notice, so I don't know how you feel about losing your roommate.'
Vinyl laughed. 'You think this is a bad thing? I set you up for this, Tavi! Don't worry about how I feel—it isn't even that big of a deal, anyway. I can do whatever I want with no one else in the place, your boring concerts will be a thing of the past—' She stopped for a moment. '—no, I kid. I travel all of the time, either way. You're going to come visit, I'm going to come visit; it'll be like you never left.'
'I suppose so.'
In the distance, the two could see a nearly lifeless train station in the early noon lull. A few ponies were scattered here and there around Ponyville, and only one was at the station, looking down at his wristwatch while tapping his other hoof impatiently. A train was in front of him, standing quite still. A cluster of varied suitcases and bags surrounded him, almost certainly not all belonging to him—it became obvious rather quickly, due to the banana hat resting on his head, who it was.
'That's pretty tame, especially for Gazer,' Vinyl said. 'You should see some of the stuff he's had on in Manehattan. Enough to fill a fashion disaster museum, even.'
Octavia recalled his last outf—her eyes veered to the right, and all was forgotten. She was looking to the Ponyville Music Hall once more, and her stomach churned.
No.
‘You’re a little early, Octavia. Any reason as to why?’
Star Gazer's voice made her jump; Vinyl looked to her with raised eyebrows.
'You okay, Tavi? What's gotten you spooked?'
'It's the jitters of making the big time, my good friend!' Gazer replied, giving Vinyl a good slap on the back. 'How the hell have you been?'
'Doin' alright, I guess,' Vinyl said, shrugging. 'Haven't been over in Manehattan for a while; how are things there?'
'I'm sure that, thanks to your hard work in finding these lovely musicians, things will be going just swimmingly—yes, indeed. I expect great things from your group's audition, Miss Octavia. Say, speaking of which, I figured they'd be back by now.'
'Where did they go?' Vinyl said, setting down the bags amongst the parcels lying on the station dock. Octavia stood where she was, still and silent.
Gazer frowned. 'The train had some issues or other—something about a leaky hoozmawazit, what a bother. If I knew anything about these contraptions, perhaps I could have sped up this awful delay.'
'...And the musicians?'
'Ah, right. They left for a bit to go say goodbye to some of their friends and whatnot, I believe, while the train gets repaired. Curious, really, since they'll be visiting fairly often. It's not as if we're crossing the world to get to Manehattan.'
Octavia shook from her trance—her stomach continued to churn.
'You're going to Manehattan with that outfit on?' Vinyl raised an eyebrow.
'What outfit?'
'Never mind, Gazer. You really do never change—except for your clothes, that is.'
'You've got that right!' Gazer replied, giving Vinyl another firm slap on the back. She recoiled a touch, but Gazer simply laughed. 'But, seriously, what do you mean by...'
The duo's conversation left Octavia's ears; for a while, she could not think. She could see Waltz and Sonata in the distance, but she could not shake another figure from her head.
A dancer...
'...Drunk again, eh? You must have a hangover something fierce, my friend! I certainly hope that Octavia—or any of the group for that matter—did too much on your little escapade, did they?'
'I had just a little bit, Mister Gazer,' Octavia replied.
'It speaks! And it seems we have two more speakers arriving: the mother and son of the group!'
'We're friends,' Sonata said, unamused as she shot a quick glance to Waltz. 'I'm not that old.'
'I never said you were, my dear. It was merely a figure of speech, a passing gesture, a spur of the moment whim!'
Sonata frowned, and looked to Waltz, who shrugged. 'Will the others be too much longer?'
'Not likely,' Gazer said. 'I see smoke from the train, so I certainly hope they won't take long. I'll go check on the conductor, just give me a few minutes...'
As Gazer walked over to the train's main entrance, Sonata sighed.
'Staccato is having second thoughts about this whole thing,' Sonata said. 'Be wary, Octavia, if he does something... unorthodox.'
Octavia blinked.
'You alright, Octavia?' Waltz inquired.
'I...I'm fine. Don't worry about me—just a little emotionally exhausted, I guess.'
‘Yeah, I’m just happy to be starting a new life in the big city! I’m sure the ponies my age will love my drum. I’ve heard from Vinyl that it sounds a lot like a bass, and that sounds pretty popular.’
Octavia's eyes widened—Sonata did the same. 'Wait... Vinyl? You're telling me you two already know each other?' the two said in unison.
‘Heh, you two sound like the twins.’ Waltz turned to Vinyl. ‘She just came to me after the one concert she listened to and told me about the drum. It was nothing more than that.’ Waltz shrugged. ‘I didn’t think it was a big deal.’
‘Heh, I figured as much. Say, you’re talking an awful lot more than usual, did you have a change of outgoing-ness overnight?’
‘No, I just don’t talk much when ponies I don’t know are around. And I usually don’t talk when the group is together because Staccato is usually there... he scares me. He mostly seems to care about the group itself, not the members. He just wants success.’
Octavia frowned. ‘Yeah, but he hasn’t done anything rash yet. I think it’s best just to leave him be and go on with what we're doing, even if he's having second doubts about whatever it is he's thinking about. I had... other things on my mind overnight, and Staccato wasn't one of them.'
‘Speaking of overnight,’ Sonata chimed in, pointing her hoof towards Vinyl, ‘it seems as though somepony didn’t have such a great night last night. What did you do? Get drunk or something?’
‘That’s not really any of your business.’ Vinyl paused for a moment. ‘Yeah, I suppose I was. I guess it was kind of obvious.’
‘Indeed, you do look quite unwell,’ a voice inputted from behind Vinyl and Octavia. ‘And I trust that Miss Octavia was also present in your little escapade?’
‘Staccato, I wasn’t getting drunk.’ Octavia turned after seeing Waltz frown and take a step back, unsurprisingly coming face-to-face with a frowning stallion staring straight at her.
‘That seems wholly untrue. Why would she go alone on the night you leave? Seems a little convenient either way.’
‘I was accompanying her, but I had nothing to drink.’
‘Mm.’ Staccato sighed. 'I'm just a little on edge, my dear, so I apologize for jumping to conclusions. I just don't want anything to go wrong on this trip—imagine, the Ponyville Players, playing on the big stage! I'm getting shivers already.'
'Shivers are for cold climates, silly!' Vivace said from behind Staccato, prompting him to jump. 'Did you miss me, Staccy?'
'We were gone for ten minutes at the most.' Staccato grumbled.
Vivace walked around the tense Staccato, and stood next to Octavia, laying down a single duffle bag arched over her back and her trumpet secured to her side. 'I had to say goodbye to a few more friends, but I've just been so anxious to go to Ponyville that I couldn't come any later. I've got family in Manehattan and I can't wait to see them!'
'Hey, maybe you could get lodging with them! It'd be better than whatever crummy hotel we'll wind up getting.'
‘Great idea!’ Vivace’s eyes lit up. ‘Hey, maybe if they’ll accept me, they’ll let you come too. If not, then I’d rather be with my friends than my family, in all honesty.’
‘We’ll talk about this later,' Octavia replied. 'Let’s get our stuff in the train so we can leave as soon as the twins come. I’m not really expecting them to be as early as we are—they're younger than us, right?’ She walked over to the train's entrance, ajar and blocked by Star Gazer's approaching figure.
'The train is up and running, as confirmed by our lovely attendant,' Gazer said, a young white mare blushing a few feet behind him. 'I'm surprised there aren't any other passengers—regardless, let us be off once we have the whole party here. Ah, speaking of which, there they are now.'
Gazer walked past Octavia to greet the pair of ponies. 'You two ought to get name tags, it's impossible to tell the two of you apart...'
'Octavia?'
The group's voices faded from hearing, but Vinyl's, who had moved away from the pack, was crystal. 'Octavia, you okay?'
'I'm fine, Vinyl,' Octavia replied, shaking her head. 'Honestly, I don't know why everyone keeps asking me that.'
'I dunno, you seem a little down. You just remember to have a good time, okay?' Vinyl lifted a hoof under her glasses and rubbed her eyes. 'Let me get your bags for you.'
As Octavia's bags, including her cello's black case, rose into the air, Octavia smirked. 'Are you tearing up, Vinyl?'
Vinyl's hoof quickly lowered, and her mouth twisted. 'W-huh? No, no—I don't cry, Octavia. I guess I'll miss you and all, but you said you'd come visit, so I wouldn't—'
Octavia embraced Vinyl, and the bags dropped mid-flight inside the train. Vinyl's initial surprise faded, and one of her hooves reached up and patted her back.
'I, uh,' Vinyl said, breaking away from the embrace, 'I'm not very good at saying goodbyes or hugging, I guess. So, uh... guess I'll see you later, then,' she finished, turning as the rest of the group approached.
'That's fine—and I'll come back as soon as I can.' Octavia walked into the train along with the rest of her group—getting to a side booth was hard enough without the bags and assorted clothing in the way, littering the train car's floor. The attendant sighed at the terrible mess, but kept her composure as she dealt with Gazer and the group's tickets for the journey.
Once Octavia had found a booth, with Vivace following close behind, she stared out the window. The train had not begun moving, but Vinyl was already waving her hoof on the station dock. Octavia waved back.
'And we're off!' Gazer shouted as the doors shut.
Octavia continued to wave until the train started moving, where Vinyl put her hoof back down and prepared to leave.
A glint through a window belonging to Ponyville Music Hall caught Octavia's eye, sidetracking her from all other thoughts.
A yellow glint, with the familiar outline of a pony.
All she should make out was a downcast expression on the figure staring straight back at her, as if it had a longing for the cellist to come to her. But Octavia could not see any more, as the train moving made the Hall appear as no more but a speck in the distance.
Octavia quite liked tea. She had since she was a young filly, when she stole sips of oolong tea to the side of Vinyl’s crazy soda concoctions. Once the secret was out that she wasn’t drinking her mixtures, Octavia slowed her tea drinking until it became a once-in-a-blue-moon opportunity.
In recent times, however, she began drinking it once more—ever since she got the news for Manehattan.
‘You okay, Octy?’ Vivace said across their booth’s table. ‘You haven’t said a word for half an hour.’
Octavia sipped from a steaming cup of tea resting in front of her. ‘I’ve just got a lot on my mind is all. Big moment for us here.’
‘I’ll say. Hey, since when do you drink bitter tea?’
‘Hm?’
Vivace shrugged. ‘I wanted to mention this earlier, but I wasn’t sure if you wanted me to talk or not... I noticed you got ginseng tea instead of that sweet stuff you usually get.’
‘You mean oolong?’
‘Yeah, that. Isn’t ginseng bitter or something?’
Octavia sighed and took another sip of her tea. She looked out the window, paused for a few moments, but she could not find what she was looking for. ‘I don’t know. Habits change, I guess.’ Octavia lowered her eyes, and Vivace frowned. ‘Quite observant of you, though.’
Octavia felt the floor vibrate a touch—at first, she blamed it on the train’s rumbling. Then, as Vivace began humming a quiet tune, she noticed her shaking a little. A tapping sound grew louder and louder from beneath the table.
‘Are you okay, Viv?’ The tapping ceased.
‘I’m just bored,’ Vivace replied flatly, laying her head on the table. ‘What is it, a two hour ride?’
‘A little over that. We’ve already been on the train for two hours, Viv.’
Vivace groaned. ‘Then someone tell the conductor to go faster, because clearly the two hour quota was not met.’
Octavia giggled. It was the first for quite some time, and lasted very briefly. ‘You can try that if you really want. Let me know if it works out.’
Vivace smiled. ‘It’s good to see you smile at the very least.’
‘Staccato,’ Octavia called out, turning heads her direction, 'what's the game plan once we reach Manehattan?'
As Staccato opened his mouth to speak, Star Gazer turned around from his booth next to Octavia and Vivace. ‘I need to get you all acquainted with the Manehattan Amphitheatre’s owner and your soon-to-be manager before we head to your hotel. We’ll talk more about everything else this afternoon.’
‘Is it fine if I stay with some family in the city?’ Vivace chipped in. ‘It’s not far away from the Amphitheatre; my aunt said she went there often when I came to visit her as a filly.’
‘I see no problem with that. You’ll all probably stay somewhere relatively permanent if things work out anyway, so you’ve got a leg up there.’
Vivace turned to Octavia and smiled. ‘Sounds like everything checks out. Come with me once everything’s done and we can ask my aunt and uncle if you can stay.’
Octavia nodded. She blew softly at her cup and took a slow sip, then turned back towards the window. Her smile faded. ‘Thanks, Vivace.’
‘Anytime, Octy!’
A glint appeared in the distance, through the window, fronted by long plains speeding by from the train. It quickly grew into a small, silvery object drawing closer and closer into full view. Octavia squinted.
‘Ah, here it is,’ Gazer remarked. ‘Welcome to Manehattan, Players. Well, almost.’
Vivace pressed her face into the window and stared out at same spot as Octavia, now seeing a slightly larger, more discernible building.
‘Ah, that’s shiny!’ Vivace said, squinting, as she removed her face from the pane. ‘How much bigger has the city gotten in the last several years?’
‘The amphitheatre itself is actually fairly new, amongst many other things in the city. There have been a lot of changes—more tall buildings, more attractions, the works. A lot of them are quite dull, though. Corporate headquarters and such.’ Gazer smiled. ‘But they go through the boredom so they can be entertained by ponies like you in the evening.’
‘What’s it like there, anyway?’ Sonata said.
‘What’s what like, my dear?’
‘The amphitheatre.’
Gazer chuckled. ‘Ah, my apologies. Imagine, if you will, your theatre in Ponyville for a brief moment. Now imagine it wider, as in a one-eighty degree coverage of the audience. A half-circle on the stage, if you will, that sends out waves of music directly out into the audience. A piece of pie cut directly in half, and you have the full stage and aud—’
‘Thank you,’ Sonata said with a quick laugh. ‘You’re pretty funny, you know that?’
‘People have told me this many times, but I still don’t seem to understand why. I’m not one to tell many jokes.’
‘Ooh, what sort of stuff can we do for fun tonight?’ Vivace said, darting her head Gazer’s direction. ‘I only came here as a little filly, never really explored much.’
Staccato harrumphed. ‘There shan’t be time for any of that for the next little while, unless something special pops up tonight. I suggest you focus on more important matters, such as passing as professional musicians for our possible manager. Rest is quite important too.’
Sonata narrowed her eyes. ‘Since when were you in charge of telling grown ponies what they should and shouldn’t do in their spare time?’
‘I’m only looking out for the best—’
No sooner had Staccato raised his hoof in protest and began speaking than Gazer’s own hoof rose and covered the pianist’s mouth. ‘Please, let’s not worry too much about all of this. If something goes wrong, I’m sure the manager will give you plenty of opportunity to make your case.’
Staccato grumbled and returned his gaze to the magazine lying on the table at his booth, illustrating a magenta-coloured mare focused intently on playing a piano. Sonata rolled her eyes, and the train fell silent.
‘...A fine choice indeed,’ Gazer said, half-sighing.
The train kept silent for the remainder of the trip, save a quiet whistling coming from Waltz. Sonata kept her hooves crossed, the twins had been sleeping in the back of the car, and Vivace kept darting her eyes around, looking for something to do, something entertaining that couldn’t be found.
Octavia could not stop seeing a figure in the window, an indiscernible pony that repeatedly shifted to resemble her reflection. And every time it did, she realized it really was her reflection... yet, at the same time, it was still that same pony from the theatre. Allegrezza.
A fine choice indeed.
~|D|~
The town hall was the largest building in Ponyville. Yet, despite standing tall in the midst of the small town, it would have barely scratched the second window on the three-storey train station, a lowly, older building lying close to the center of Manehattan. Surrounding it were even larger buildings, towering high above the Ponyville Players in their brick and granite-laden glory as they escaped the confines of the train.
'Everything's so... tall,' one of the twins said, mouth agape. 'What's there to do around the city?'
'There's a bit of nightlife and a couple of cider joints,' Gazer replied, 'but other than that, for folks such as yourselves, not much. Mostly entertainment for older ponies... by that I mean senior citizen-type entertainment. Although there’s some of that in the city too.’ He cleared his throat. ‘Anyway, that's why the amphitheatre is so important to the city—the music is a cultural thing, too.’
The group began walking, empty-handed, to the side of the train dock and away from the station.
‘What about our stuff?’ Vivace said quizzically. ‘And don’t we have to go to the station to check in first?’
‘Everything’s already in place, my dear. Your things will be brought up to your hotel rooms—Octavia and Vivace, they’ll be waiting in the lobby—and the station is only there to sell tickets for outgoing customers. I dealt with the ticket handling on our way here.’
‘Impressive,’ Staccato said, nodding his head once.
They came across a street going down their left and right as far as they could see. It was busy, but not terribly so, as a chariot being pulled by various earth ponies passed them by once every six or seven seconds. On the other side of the street, several varieties of shops stood tall over the passing residents, and on their side, a few more nameless buildings. Looking left, a distinct building with golden-yellow windows and two flags heralding the front entrance, and on the right down a ways, an entire block dedicated to a single two-storey building mostly unseen by the group.
‘Well, here we are. Convenient that these two are so close, eh?’ Star Gazer remarked. ‘Whereabouts will you be staying again, my dears?’
Vivace looked out for a moment. ‘I think it’s down a couple blocks from the amphitheatre,’ she said, looking far to the right. ‘I remember the hotel being a little farther away.’
‘Alright, so I’ll let you two deal with that once we’re done with your future manager, eh?’ Star Gazer smiled and made his way to the amphitheatre, where the others soon followed. ‘You’ll be staying at that hotel we saw a moment ago—it’s called the “Mane Fair Hotel”. We’ll look for a more permanent residence for you all if the manager likes your stuff. It’s dreadfully difficult finding one when you haven’t even lived in this city before, so I’m sure you wouldn’t have to do a thing.’
‘Who else uses the amphitheatre?’ Sonata said.
‘Some theatre troupes do shows there, various other acts both musical and play-related... not too many notable names make their home here. One group, though, has been here for a while.’
‘Which one?’
Star smiled, and when they reached the amphitheatre double doors, stopped for a moment.
‘I think you’ll be quite pleased to know that this particular group is playing a concert tonight, and we reserved—’
‘IS IT...’ Vivace shouted, eyes widening, ‘...IS IT THE LONELY HOOVES? I KNOW THEY’RE IN TOWN!’
‘See for yourself.’
Star Gazer pushed open the right door, revealing the most spacious, stunning—and very, very red—room any of the Players had ever laid their eyes on. A small ticket podium was right in front of them, and down past it was a red-carpeted aisle up until it reached the stage a little further than a stone’s throw away. The stage itself formed a semicircle, as did the entire room, along with the curved rows of cushioned seats that filled the building wall-to-wall. Above the seats were about a half-dozen high-rise balconies all spread out along the amphitheatre curvature, and on the ceiling, several dozen ponies standing behind a bass drum and a small garden with the word “Rubber Soul” painted in yellow.
Speaking to a cyan-coloured stallion on the stage were four formal-looking ponies, all smiling with haughty postures.
‘They're... they're here,' one of the twins said, mouth agape. The other twin dashed to catch Vivace, who fainted on the spot.
The commotion was loud enough to draw the attention of one Lonely Hoof, who was soon followed by the other four stallions on the stage.
'Star Gazer, good to see you!' the cyan pony said, smiling wide. ‘I trust the journey to Ponyville and back was safe, yes?'
'Indeed it was, and I found you an excellent group to replace The Icebreakers—especially their star, the lovely Miss Octavia.'
'What does she play?' a Lonely Hoof, with small circular glasses, inquired.
Octavia blushed. 'I play the cello. But we're a unit—I don't want to take the credit for what our group has accomplished.'
Staccato made a vague attempt at a nod; the other Players stood silent, including Vivace who had been placed and settled into a theatre seat.
'Nonsense, your talents almost surpass your loveliness,' Gazer said with a smile. 'I'll talk with you more about it later, Cerulean. I just wanted to get the Ponyville Players briefed before they went to the hotel.'
'Ponyville Players, eh?' Cerulean said, stroking his chin gently. 'Interesting. I’ve actually got my hooves a little preoccupied for the next... oh, year or so. The Lonely Hooves are doing a year-long tour around Equestria and a few surrounding kingdoms, and they requested me as their manager.’
‘...Manager?’ Gazer replied, to which a Lonely Hoof nodded. ‘Then who will sign and manage the Players?’
‘You used to be quite the manager several years ago, did you not?’
Star Gazer stood silent for a few moments, then turned to the Players. They smiled back, a few of them a touch bothered by the turn of events.
‘That I did, Cerulean. That I did.’ Gazer paused. ‘I suppose I’ve already seen a little bit of their work—’ Octavia smiled sheepishly. ‘—but it’s up to them. Regardless of whether you accept me as your manager or not, I’ve got an act for you to open tomorrow.’
‘Can we have a moment to talk things over?’ Staccato said. ‘We just want to make sure we’re all on the same page.’
‘Certainly.’
The Players all moved to the back of the amphitheatre and huddled into a circle. Star Gazer resumed his conversation with Cerulean and the Lonely Hooves.
‘I don’t really see a problem with having him as our manager,’ Sonata said, prompting Octavia, the twins and Waltz to nod their heads. ‘He already has experience, and we don’t want to risk not having one when we open tomorrow.’
‘He’s a mite odd, though,’ Staccato said. ‘Do you really want that kind of unpredictability as a manager?’
‘Should we get Vivace in this?’ Octavia asked.
‘If we have a majority vote here, it shouldn’t matter,’ Sonata replied. ‘Besides, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind having someone as strange—if not stranger—than she is.’
Staccato sighed. ‘So we won’t have her vote—is anyone opposed to the idea of having Star Gazer be our manager, whether we fail to impress him tomorrow or not?’
No one made any sudden movements.
‘Alright then.’ Staccato broke away from the huddle and called out to Staccato, who turned to his direction. ‘We’ll take you up on your offer, Mister Gazer. We’d be more than happy to have you manage our group.’
‘Great!’ Gazer said, smiling brightly. ‘Took me a moment to really grasp the fact that I’m back in the managing business for a bit, but I’m glad I’ll be doing it with ponies like you. Now, the instruments should be off the train and on their way here, so if at any time you want to practice with each other or individually, you can head to the back of the amphitheatre and grab them in the break room. For today, though, you should head back to the hotel.’
‘You don’t need anything more from us?’ Staccato asked.
‘I just need to do some paperwork, which I’ll get you to sign tomorrow if you open for the group well enough. By the way, have you ever heard of the “Equine Principle”?’
The Players shook their heads.
‘Well, you’ll get to hear them tomorrow once you’re finished. You’ll also get to hear from—’
‘I’m Imagine,’ the Lonely Hoof with small circular glasses interrupted. ‘Sorry Gazer, I just wanted to say it myself. We’re playing our first show of the tour here in Manehattan, and since it’ll be a couple of days before we need to be in Fillydelphia, we wanted to stay and watch you guys tomorrow. In the meantime, we would like to offer you a few spare seats in our show tonight.’
Vivace had nearly come to, and was almost standing up straight, before she heard the news, she let out a short yelp and collapsed once more into the seat.
‘Heh, it seems your friend is on board. If any of you want to come, we’ve got some seats reserved for our special guests in the back—no one else we know personally is showing up, since we aren’t from around here, so we figured fellow musicians might appreciate them.’
‘My goodness,’ Sonata said, smiling, ‘that’s very kind of you. I’ll tell our friend about it when she wakes up—I’m sure most, if not all of us, will show up.’
‘Splendid!’ Star Gazer said, raising a hoof. ‘Now that that’s settled, we really need to get to work. I’m sure that you can all make it here tonight and tomorrow, so if you would be so kind as to leave, that’d make things go along much quicker.’
Octavia prodded Vivace. ‘Wake up, we need to head out.’ No response. ‘Hey, Vivace, the Lonely Hooves just invited us to their show tonight.’
Vivace sprung out of her seat, looking around until she caught sight of the Lonely Hooves on the stage. She waved, and they waved back, Imagine and another of their group chuckling as they did.
‘We have to head out, Vivace. There’s no way I can get to where we’re staying unless you come with me.’
Vivace looked to Octavia and sighed. ‘I guess so. I just wanted to stay with these guys is all.’
‘You’ll get the chance tonight and tomorrow, Viv.’ Octavia began walking to the door, along with the rest of the Players. ‘You guys all good for today?’
‘I suppose so,’ Staccato replied. The group pushed open the door, out to the hustle and bustle of downtown Manehattan. ‘Don’t want to exhaust ourselves or anything. I’d suggest resting until tonight, when you could gather inspiration from a successful group like the Lonely Hooves.’
‘At this point,’ Sonata said, ‘it’s really just nerves. As long as we can get enough rest and be relaxed enough for tomorrow, everything should be just fine.’
The group fell silent outside the Manehattan Amphitheatre.
‘Well, seems like we’re all on the same page. See you two tonight—or tomorrow, if for some reason you don’t want to see the greatest band of all time for free.’
Octavia and Vivace left in one direction, waving, as the rest of the group went the other way.
‘I really can’t wait for the show tonight!’ Vivace said. ‘You know, I saw them when I was a young filly, and then one of them looked at me, and he actually smiled at me, and one of them...’
Vivace’s voice trailed off as Octavia steadily tuned her out. She kept walking down the sidewalk, pausing only to wait for traffic to pass at an intersection. She nodded on occasion at Vivace’s words, who was satisfied enough to keep going. The dancer still plagued her mind—inexplicably, just one last time, she needed to see her again.
‘...Octy?’
Octavia was walking alone, several paces in front of Vivace, who had stopped in front of a two-storey light-green apartment building. She blinked, turned around and met the eyes of a concerned trumpeter.
‘This is the apartment here. Is something the matter?’
‘No, not at all.’ Octavia smiled and followed Vivace inside. ‘Just lost in thought.’
‘Well, I certainly hope that doesn’t happen at the show tonight. I’m sure there’s some tea in the apartment if you need to calm your mind.’
The two walked down a carpeted hallway on the first floor, stopping at a plain door numbered “12” on gold-painted metal. A note was posted right beneath the number.
Vivace grabbed the note. ‘“for anyone who needs us, weve gone out to vanhoover for a few months, but well be back at the start of next winter... maybe. we rented a home there for a bit, but we might like it well enough to stay here... not a big fan of manehattan... if its some of our family needing a place to stay, the key is where youd expect us to put it... leave everything the way it is when youre done!!!”. Well, there you go. I’m sure that they’d be fine if friends of family showed up too, so you’re good, Octy.’
‘What about the key? Do you know where it is?’
‘No welcome mat, no nooks to hide it in... ah.’ Vivace turned the “2” and revealed a small yellow key taped down. She grabbed the key, smiled and unlocked the door. ‘Perfect.’
Vivace opened the door, giving way to a small entryway with a hat rack on the side. It led to a living room with a single couch and a coffee table with a radio sitting, dead, on it. There was a kitchen right next to the living room, complete with a fridge, sink, cabinets and a stove, as well as two doors on the right, ajar, containing a bathroom and a bedroom.
‘Where do you want to sleep, Octy?’
Octavia responded by collapsing on the sofa.
‘Great, I wanted the bedroom anyway. I’ll leave you to rest—I’ll wake you up when it’s almost time for the show, but before then, I’ll probably get some groceries. My aunt and uncle always leave a bit of money for family, and they owe me some for a favour I did them a while back. Would’ve stopped them from vacationing to the Crystal Empire!’
Octavia replied with a snore.
‘I guess you don’t want to hear the story then,’ Vivace said a little sullenly. ‘I’ll be back in a while if you can still hear me.’
Octavia dreamed of Ponyville, of the dancer, and of her lover.
~|D|~
‘Octy, the show’s about to start.’
Octavia did not respond.
‘Come on, wake up already. It’s been a few hours.’
Octavia turned over and opened her eyes slowly. ‘I... I think I’ll stay here. I’ve got some stuff to think about.’
Vivace’s eyes widened. ‘Seriously Octavia, what’s the matter? You wouldn’t tell me on the train, I let you have a bit of time to get over it, but now I can’t let it go any longer. You’re my friend... I can’t let you be upset like this.’
Octavia rubbed her eyes and sighed. ‘We can talk about this later. You’ve been waiting to see them again for a long time, haven’t you?’ Vivace nodded slowly. ‘Then go have fun. I’m just a little homesick.’
Vivace thought for a moment, and then sighed. ‘Homesick, eh? Are you sure it’s not serious enough to be a major issue, but it’s serious enough to not come to the show?’
Octavia nodded. ‘I just don’t want to go is all. I’m not feeling it.’
‘It wouldn’t be as fun without you.’
‘Even if that’s true, you’ll still have a blast going with the others.’
Vivace closed her eyes, took in a deep breath and sighed once more. ‘Alright. But please, as soon as we’re both awake at the same time, we can talk about you being homesick. I’ll also get a busboy or someone to help me with getting our stuff from the hotel after the show is done.’
‘Deal.’
Vivace opened her mouth, prepared to say something. It hung there for a while, closed, then opened again, and closed again. She left the apartment quickly, leaving a silent, groggy Octavia alone.
Octavia still wondered what her fascination was with the dancer, or why it came to dominate her life so much. She didn’t sleep a minute longer that night.
Vivace turned over on a well-sized bed, seeing Octavia standing over her, smiling. She rubbed her eyes and blinked three times.
‘You... you’re awfully chipper this morning,’ Vivace said groggily. ‘Did the extra sleep mutate you or something?’
Octavia chuckled and shook her head. ‘No, but I do feel a lot better. You ready to impress Star Gazer today?’
Vivace smiled. ‘Of course I am, Octy. Before we go, though, you might want to see your bags and some of the food I stocked up in the pantry.’
‘I already unpacked all of my things,’ Octavia said cheerfully. ‘And I already made breakfast. I was coming in here to tell you that there are pancakes waiting for us on the dining table.’
‘Sounds delicious.’ Vivace rubbed her eyes once more and got out of bed slowly. ‘Plain pancakes?’
‘And a few strawberries. You sure stocked up last night.’
‘Heh, yeah.’ Vivace’s eyes brightened. ‘You wanna talk about some upcoming stuff over breakfast?’
‘Well, I wasn’t going to eat in silence. At least, I certainly hope I wasn’t.’
The two made their way to one corner of the apartment, close to the kitchen, with a square wooden table and a chair surrounding each side. They sat down in front of two small plates with golden brown pancakes and strawberries awaiting them.
‘What do you think we’ll do if we don’t make it, Octy?’ Vivace said, grasping a nearby fork with her wrist joint and taking a slice of pancake. ‘All of this food would have been bought for nothing. Just more luggage to bring back home.’
‘I’m sure we’ll do fine.’ Octavia didn’t so much as look at her food. She was too busy staring off into the distance, occasionally shaking her head but always keeping her smile intact. ‘We’re a good group.’
‘I’ll say.’ Vivace took a bite of the pancake, and quickly her mouth sought to reject it. It tasted like burnt bread left out overnight, but Vivace kept smiling and forced it down her throat anyway. The outside may have been golden brown, but the inside was black. ‘N... nice pancakes, Octavia.’
‘Not a fan, I’m guessing?’ Octavia said, chuckling.
Vivace shook her head and pushed the plate aside.
‘It’s fine, we’ll go grab something to eat later. I’m not a very good cook, even for something as easy as pancakes.’
‘What about after the show?’
‘It doesn’t matter when we get food, Viv—’
‘No, I mean what happens if we get invited to be a performer at the Amphitheatre?’ Vivace asked, losing her smile.
‘I guess we’ll become a more popular group. Maybe we’ll go enjoy ourselves some nights, sometimes we’ll have a show, and maybe once in a blue moon we’ll go visit Ponyville.’ Octavia paused. ‘Why?’
‘What if you get like you did last night, Octy? I was really worried about you.’
Octavia paused once more. ‘It won’t happen again, Vivace. Everything’s fine with me.’
Vivace leaned forward. ‘Can you at least tell me what was wrong?’
Octavia pondered for a moment, then, in a sincere voice, said: ‘I don’t know, Vivace. I honestly, truly, don’t know.’
The two sat in silence for several moments. The pancakes were forgotten.
Vivace was the first to chipper up. ‘Well, in any case, let’s go rock that performance.’
‘Yes,’ Octavia replied, breathing a sigh of relief. ‘Let’s do that.’
~|D|~
Staccato, with his head in his hooves, sat in the Manehattan Amphitheatre’s back room.
‘Are we going to do the piece we rehearsed?’ Staccato said, sighing soon after. ‘I mean, we haven’t performed it live yet, but it would certainly be the one to knock his socks off.’
‘Gazer wanted us to perform something with an edge,’ Octavia added. ‘I think it’s our only shot.’
‘Well—’Sonata said, frowning ‘—he’s waiting out there with the Lonely Hooves for us to walk onto the stage, so we should probably stick with the usual measure and then try the special one afterwards if he needs more convincing—why would it be a good idea to change what we’ve already planned right before we hit the stage?’
‘She's not wrong, but it hardly fixes the problem that they might get bored before we get a chance to show off,’ Staccato replied. ‘Changing things up seconds before you perform seems rather unprofessional, though. Then again, we’ve never really been "professional" before in the big name sense of the word.’
‘All of the stuff is on the stage,’ Treble said, putting on her treble earrings as her twin sister put on ones adorned with bass clefs. ‘We can just substitute on the fly if we need to. It’s just a tryout, I’m sure changes wouldn’t be looked down upon if we did them to make Gazer happy.’
‘Alright then, Players. Let’s go out there and play.’ Blood rushing through every musician's ears made it impossible to tell who said the words, but it rang through everyone’s minds all the same.
Vivace shivered and her legs buckled.
'Vivace?' Octavia said, placing a hoof on Vivace's shoulder. Their eyes locked. 'Are you alright?'
Vivace looked down to the floor. 'N-Nerves. I... it's not Gazer I'm worried about impressing, I'm worried about playing in front of the Lonely Hooves. I had no idea they'd watch us play—what will they think of me if I played a note too high? Too low?' The rest of the musicians turned to the duo. 'They would never make any kind of mistake like that.'
'They've been playing for decades, Vivace,' Staccato replied sharply. 'Of course they wouldn't. Their opinion of us will be just fine—let's go, we shouldn't waste any more time.'
Staccato hurried out the back room door, soon followed by the rest of the Players. Octavia put her hoof on Vivace's chest before she could leave.
'I worked hard to feel like myself again, Vivace. Try to do the same when you're playing your music—you can definitely do it. For all of us.'
Vivace blinked several times, then nodded.
As the group entered stage left, a friendly voice spoke to them with a hearty greeting: 'Hello, my friends. How great to see you all again; I hope you don't mind the Lonely Hooves having the best seats in the house to watch you.' To Gazer's right down in the amphitheatre's seats, the familiar faces from the day before sat, their eyes still and intent on the stage. Octavia caught sight of everyone’s instruments on the stage, with a notable addition: a drum kit stationed right in front of Waltz’s timpani drum. Her head tilted.
'Not at all,' Staccato replied, settling down into his piano stool. ‘Let’s not waste any time, shall we?’
Octavia took a deep breath and watched as her bandmates prepared themselves. Vivace shivered, then steeled herself for a moment, and shivered again. When she looked to Octavia, she was met with a careful smile, and suddenly the shivers stopped. Right on cue, the music began.
The familiar tune of Yesterday made by the very ponies sitting in front of them soon filled the building, and Star Gazer began humming along. One of the Lonely Hooves, complete with low-hanging, rounded glasses, looked to Octavia and frowned. She gasped and raised her bow to a different place on her cello, and after a few instances of this, he stopped frowning. Soon, though, Star Gazer interrupted the music by clearing his throat rather loudly.
‘Yes yes, I know that you bunch can make very nice music,’ Gazer said as the Players laid their instruments down. ‘But I want to hear life. I want to see sounds. I want to hear sights. I want to smell—well, no, I don’t want to smell anything besides the newly refurbished seats in this amphitheatre. But I do want to hear this new piece Staccato spoke so highly of before we all met, regardless of how many times you’ve practiced.’
The Lonely Hooves all frowned at once.
'No life in our song?' the Lonely Hoof with round glasses said bitterly, but Gazer, seemingly in ignorance, kept his smile focused to the group on stage.
Staccato blinked. ‘But—’
Star Gazer raised his hoof, and Staccato quickly fell silent. ‘The best groups have variety: they have the incredible talent to weave a beautiful piece one moment, and then the next, fill them with an exciting tune that gets them feeling euphoric—sort of like when you take a while in the sauna and then go out into the cold, snowy outdoors.’
Staccato scratched his head. He looked to Octavia, who shrugged in response.
‘Strange comparison aside—’ Staccato said softly, turning to his fellow musicians ‘—let’s get to work. You heard the guy—everyone on their usual instruments except for Waltz. You think you’re up to this challenge, big guy? Been practising on your own time?’
Waltz nodded slowly.
‘Alright, then let’s get this show on the road.’
Everyone steeled themselves on-stage. Waltz took in a deep breath, then pushed the timpani drum aside. He sat on the drum kit's stool, took in another breath, and picked up the drumsticks lying on the snare drum.
And then it hit. The sea seemed to come rolling through the front doors of the amphitheatre, a wave of music coming with the rolling of the sticks on the snare drum. Gazer almost—for a moment—could feel a burst of cold wind fly past his cheeks. The tempo stood fast, but the power of the beats steadily grew as the moments ticked away. Sonata walked in front of the drum kit with a microphone stand angled up to her face, her violin having been set to the back of the stage.
A cymbal crash broke the beat, and soon the trumpet joined in, heralding in a crushing press of the piano keys and a short whistle from the flutes. From then on, every instrument kept a level beat, save the trumpet that paraded between every lyrical verse that came out of Sonata’s mouth. Her voice was soft, smoothened by her throat’s hard work behind the scenes.
‘Goodbye to the life I left be—hind/Now I’ve got too much on my mind’
When all was said and done, and the music had died down, nothing was left but the applause of the ponies getting a front row seat to the show.
‘Excellent work,’ Star Gazer said cheerfully. ‘I had no doubt you could pull this off, Players.’
‘I quite liked the trumpet additions,’ the Lonely Hoof with a purple vest said, looking to Vivace. ‘I must say, we should use that in a future track.’
Vivace gasped, then felt breathlessness.
‘I mean, we’ve used trumpets before in the band, but I think I speak for the entire group when I say that the trumpeting almost “heralding in” the ensuing lyrics adds a new, exotic and exciting dynamic to the whole thing.’
‘Th...’ Vivace stuttered. ‘Th... that was Staccato’s idea, sir. H-he composes a lot of our stuff with S-Sonata.’
‘Ah, let’s not get side-tracked until after we deal with a few matters, shall we?’ Gazer said. ‘I’m sure Staccato and I can go deal with the formal side of things with contracts and the like. However, before we go off, I wanted to suggest a few things. The first was that you all get special outfits for yourselves, maybe something special that means something to you. Everything, as long as it’s not completely ridiculous, can be covered by me once you decide on what to get.’
A pause.
‘...What other matters, Mister Gazer?’ Staccato inquired, climbing out of his seat.
‘There are none! I can’t help talking nonsense sometimes, in all fairness. Ah well—come, Staccato. You’ll all have time to celebrate later.‘ Gazer smiled. ‘And cheer up, I haven’t seen anyone give a hurrah or anything close. I figured you’d all be ecstatic.’
‘I think we’ve all been training ourselves to keep calm and professional in times like this,’ Staccato replied. His hooves shuddered and twitched as he walked off of the stage towards Gazer, despite his best efforts to keep them rigid. ‘I assure you, though, we’re all excited beyond words.’
Staccato and Gazer’s conversation trailed as they walked towards an office on the other side of the amphitheatre. Most of the Lonely Hooves talked amongst themselves as they walked towards the building’s exit, except for the one with the circular glasses, who looked to Octavia patiently.
‘Mind if I say a few words, cellist?’ the stallion said, coming closer to the stage.
Octavia took in a deep breath. ‘I saw you looking at me funny in the first song. I know I screwed up somehow.’
‘No no, it wasn’t your musical talent or performance that went wrong. You’re gifted in the art of music.’ Octavia beamed as the stallion spoke. ‘However, you shouldn’t be looking to what other people see in your music. If you do what you think is right, what you think is proper, then you will definitely get a naysayer here and there. What you should be doing is not caring about what they think, so long as you do things the right way.’
Silence.
‘Well—’ he continued, rubbing the back of his head with his hoof ‘—that’s all I had to say about that. We’re heading off soon, but I certainly hope we meet each other again.’
Octavia pondered these thoughts, and pondered them hard as the last of the Hooves left the building. The twins soon jumped around Octavia, their flutes already packed away and forgotten.
‘I can’t believe it,’ Treble said excitedly.
‘We actually made it, and you got a Lonely Hoof to give you advice!’ Clef joined in.
‘And Vivace!’ Treble said to a stone-solid Vivace, her trumpet resting at her hooves. ‘The Lonely Hooves took your performance as inspiration! Isn’t that great?’
‘They... they looked to me for inspiration.’ Vivace blinked rapidly. ‘My inspiration looked to me for inspiration.’
Waltz groaned loudly as Sonata whispered in his ear. ‘Great, girls. You’ve gotten Sonata going again.’
Sonata smiled and put a hoof over Vivace’s shoulders. ‘You know what this calls for, girls? Like Mister Gazer said, I think it’s time for us to go shopping.’
Waltz groaned even louder.
~|D|~
'Does this dress look nice?' Sonata said, grinning as she pulled a rose-coloured, shimmering dress from a rack of various other feminine clothes.
‘Should we get stuff that all fits as a set?’ Treble replied. ‘I mean, it’d make us look a lot neater if we all followed each other.’
‘They all look nice,’ Waltz said. ‘Every single one that we’ve seen for the past few hours. Does which ones you get really matter that much?’
‘Of course it does,’ Clef said, taking a look at a poofy, emerald-coloured dress on the rack. ‘You wouldn’t understand, being a dude and all.’
A door opened nearby, and out of a dressing stall came Octavia, showing off a jet-black piece hanging by two thin straps on her front shoulders, which met around her stomach and hung loosely down her front and back. She stood up on two legs for a moment, supported by the door, which showed her rear legs uncovered by the dress.
‘The bottom sort of looks like a loincloth,’ Waltz remarked. ‘But it looks good on you, Octavia.’
‘Oh my, you look fabulous Octavia!’ Vivace said, pressing a hoof against her cheek. ‘Beautiful!’
‘Magnificent,’ Sonata said.
‘I’d date you if I was a stallion,’ Clef said, giggling.
Treble coughed. ‘I’ll date you anyway.’
The whole group couldn’t resist letting out a short laugh.
‘Is there any reason why you chose that one?’ Sonata asked.
‘I’m really not sure. I just saw it on sale and it sort of... spoke to me, I guess. Isn’t that how everyone goes shopping?’
‘Well, this rose dress covers a bit more than yours and it “speaks” to me, so I’ve probably made up my mind.’
Waltz rolled his eyes. ‘While you girls do your thing, I’m going to go book us some seats at the restaurant next door. If a bar is your thing, then I’m pretty sure they have one of those too.’
‘If you insist,’ Octavia replied. ‘But I’m sure if you stuck around long enough you’d start to like shopping. You seem to be getting good at helping us pick out dresses in any case.’
‘It took me two minutes to pick out my suit, and my opinion of all of these dresses has not changed even a tiny bit, so I think I’ll pass.’ Waltz smiled and walked away from the dress rack. ‘Come by when you're done, girls. But don’t take too long. Once I get things booked, I might take a quick walk to go find Staccato if I can.’
Waltz didn’t stay to hear any more of the girls’ chatter, choosing instead to escape the feminine fashion trap for the outside, unconditioned air that the drummer so desperately craved. He considered kissing the ground, looking much more happy standing on concrete than the store’s lavish pink carpet.
As he walked past the restaurant windows, though, something else caught his eye. A certain distressed pianist, with his head on the counter, sat on a bar stool inside the restaurant with an empty tankard of cider still clasped to his hoof.
Rather quickly, Waltz entered the restaurant and approached the pianist.
‘Staccato?’
Staccato slowly raised his head, turned to Waltz and gave him a puzzleeye. ‘What’re you doing here, Waltz?’
‘I was about to ask the same thing.’
Staccato smiled. ‘I should be appreciative that you’re actually talking to me.’ He looked to his empty tankard and frowned. ‘Hmmph, it’s good you showed up when you did. This is the only one I’ve had.’
‘The girls are coming over after they finish with their shopping. You, uh... you doing okay?’
Staccato groaned and leaned his head into his hooves. ‘Gazer and I have been talking about everything there is to be planned, and I think it really dawned on me today what we’re getting into. But I won’t talk your ear off about it lest I start a rant.’
Waltz shrugged. ‘Hit me.’
Staccato sighed and straightened himself out on the stool. ‘I’m not sure I can handle it, Waltz. I had been dreaming of this opportunity, this triumph, for so long. Yet, now that it’s here and we can finally make the big time, it feels like too much pressure too fast for us—me especially—to make the transition. It’s like little league baseball to the Equestrian Games.’
‘Well, not quite that big a difference.’
‘You get what I mean, though. I may act like a rude, self-absorbed pony at times, but I do it because it’s how I saw all of these famous musicians act when I was young. It made me want to fit that attitude in order to fulfill my dreams. But you folks were able to make it just as far as I did while keeping a good, healthy attitude.’
‘I think it's the alcohol talking right now and not your general attitude.'
Staccato chuckled. ‘It’s just one tankard. Never been much of a drinker, but I’m no lightweight. Care for a drink?’
Waltz shook his head as Staccato held out his tankard. ‘I’m not much of a drinker either. Although if one tankard is enough to make you this thoughtful and... good, I guess, then you should have some more in the future. In moderation, of course.’
‘That’s more than I’ve heard you say in a year.’
‘And you’ll hear a bit more—you know we’re all in a similar boat, right? We’re nervous. But misery loves company, so as long as we’re all nervous together, we’ll all lose that nervousness.’ Waltz blinked rapidly. ‘That doesn’t make much sense. Regardless, I’m sure it won’t be a problem as long as the group stays together.’
‘Wise words. Your advice seems both strange and helpful, though—misery loves company. Never thought I’d look at it like that.’ Staccato looked past Waltz to see the rest of the Players walking in, all with matching blue shopping bags slung over their backs. ‘And that’s our queue to eat.’
‘Hey Staccato—wow, you sure found him quick,’ Vivace said. ‘We all pretty much knew what we were going to get, so it didn’t take us long to finish. We wanted to come book seats in case you were hunting for Staccato.’
Sonata eyed the tankard next to Staccato. ‘You’re drinking again?’
‘Waltz coming in stopped me from buying another one—don’t worry, I’ll be fine. It’s not like this one tankard will change me for our first show.’
‘When is that, anyway?’ Octavia questioned.
‘Sometime in the next several days. Gazer said he’d call me about it.’ Staccato called for the server. ‘I’ll fill you in when I can. For now, let’s eat!’
~|D|~
The lights dimmed. The Players stood, poised at their instruments, steel-faced and ready to go. Only the curtain stood between them and the big time. Vivace was the only one to shudder, but the words of a certain Lonely Hoof put a determined smile on her face and made her ready to take on the world.
Spotlight center stage. The crimson tinge of the curtain still shielded them from view, but the light flooded underneath. A few beads of sweat appeared on the musicians’ foreheads, which was quickly met with a slow inhale, a slow exhale... and then, another light turned on. The audience was ready.
Curtains.
The hundreds and hundreds of guests, eager to hear this new group to segue into the leading act of the night, watched the stage intently. Only one song came from the group, the same one they had been showing Star Gazer before. Bliss.
At the end, chants of encore kept them in the spotlight. But they threw their flowers at one pony in particular.
Octavia.
She beamed, looked back to her fellow musicians, and they smiled back. They began to pack up their instruments, as a stage manager came to usher them away for the next group that was almost ready. But Octavia remained.
She closed her eyes, emptied her mind and entered her world of music, the one she used to remember from her times in Ponyville. She smiled as her delicate, bone-chilling solo struck the ears of her listeners with delight. They loved her, and she loved the music.
And then, the music stopped. Applause. More flowers. A pat on the back. But Octavia could not respond or feel anything at that moment, as her eyes were glued to the front of the stage, where the light barely touched the wooden floor.
Dancing there, solemn and downcast, was a stallion that no one but her seemed to notice.
Octavia stared forward. She had not blinked for over an hour—at least, that’s what it felt like to her. Her body was as cold and as rigid as stone, her eyes empty of feeling.
She was laying down on her bed over the covers, belly up to the ceiling. The light in the room was off, no light came from the night sky outside her window, yet she still continued to stare at the black nothingness all around her. Her mind, just as it used to do, trailed to the dancer back in Ponyville, then to the new dancer.
Could it be him? She had to find out. She started to hum to herself quietly with a familiar tune, one she had heard numerous times from Vinyl—
'Octy?' a voice called out in the darkness. The lights flickered on. 'Are you really going to sleep this early?'
Vivace stood at the bedroom's door frame, frowning at Octavia. 'I thought you said you wanted to go out tonight.'
Octavia sat up and sighed. 'Sorry for getting your hopes up, but I didn't mean what you thought I meant. I want to go to the library down the block.'
'The library?' Vivace narrowed her eyes. 'Tell me if I’m wrong, but I don’t see the library being a very fun thing to do at night. Heck, it’s probably closed.’
Octavia furrowed her brow.
‘Octavia?’
‘I’m fine, Vivace. A little confused, maybe, but otherwise I’m fine. Do you want the bed tonight? I’m fine with the couch.’
‘Um, you can sleep in the bed tonight. What are you confused about?’
Octavia sighed. ‘Everything, I guess. I’m saying weird things and wanting to go to strange places at night.’ She yawned. ‘I think I’ll go to sleep a little early tonight. I’ll feel more refreshed and level-headed tomorrow.’
Vivace sighed. ‘Alright. Talk to me tomorrow, won’t you?’
‘Yeah, sure.’
Vivace paused for a moment, then flicked off the light switch and left the room.
~|D|~
The sidewalk was dimly lit from the rising sun, most of the buildings around the city obscuring it from view. Octavia looked up at the apartment building from the side of the road.
‘Should have taken the couch if I wanted to sneak out. I guess I should be lucky Vivace is a light sleeper.’
Octavia walked down the road, mumbling to herself with no one in sight. She kept taking glances to the buildings around her, scaling her eyes up and down their surfaces, but her mind wasn’t thinking about anything other than Allegrezza and her lover at that moment. She walked up to the Manehattan Amphitheatre, peeked through the doors and tried to push them open.
‘Locked.’ Octavia looked to the right of the doors, and saw a plaque she had seen before but never bothered to check out. At the top were letters, in solid brass barely shining in the early day, that spelled out “MANEHATTAN AMPHITHEATRE”. Octavia shrugged, and read it out loud:
‘“Founded in the late 16th century, the Manehattan Amphitheatre, formerly known as the A~#) Me-+ria: Ha.:”—too faded to read—”has stood as one of the most enduring and recognizable buildings in all of Manehattan. Since Entwhistle founded the building so long ago, it has been the hub for entertainment in a work-heavy city that is rarely seen all over Equestria. Also of note is its role in helping the Lonely Hooves Club Band rise to fame in the early 21st century.”’
‘In case you were wondering what the faded out words used to say, it was once called the "Alto Memorial Hall",' a rough, deep voice said from the now-opening double doors. 'Not really sure why those words in particular were faded out. Might be the current owner's doing since he changed the name in the first place, but then again he did leave the plaque here. Might have a grudge against the place, I dunno.’'
Octavia turned her head to the figure speaking, a stout middle-aged earth stallion with a horn and a broom and dustpan floating at his side.
'Who are you?' Octavia asked.
'Just an old pony keeping the place from falling apart,' the stallion said, laying his cleaning tools down to the concrete. 'Name's Violetta, nightkeeper for the Amphitheatre and past musician. Despite the name, I'm not a lady.'
'I didn't assume as much,' Octavia said, smiling. 'Was Alto a musician here?'
'Nah. A while back, someone by that name was a popular dancer. Before my time, though—in a time where dancing was considered an individual form of entertainment.'
Octavia's eyes widened.
Violetta continued: 'I can understand why someone would change the name of the place, but it's pretty sad that for whatever reason the honorary name is faded beyond belief. Alto supposedly died from heartbreak because of mistreatment by past owners, and his legacy dies from the same thing.'
Octavia gasped. 'That's all the confirmation I needed,' she said aside. 'Alto... what a fitting name.'
'What was that? Does that name mean something to you, Miss...'
Octavia turned back to Violetta. 'Just "Octavia" is fine. The story hits close to home.'
'Ah, I see. I saw your name on the Ponyville Players poster inside, should have recognized you by sight.' Violetta smiled. 'Heard your name around a lot, too. Causing quite a stir with your cello. Was it like that in Ponyville?'
'Yes,' Octavia replied, rubbing the back of her head. 'It's all the instrument's work, though. I just move around a bit to vibrate the strings.'
Violetta laughed. 'Humility is a strong virtue, Miss Octavia. I’m glad to see someone like you curious about the Amphitheatre.’
‘Is there anything else you know about Alto?’
Violetta shook his head. ‘Not really. Pretty much told you everything I know—I don’t even know who broke his heart or how it happened. I haven’t seen any writing on the subject, but if you’re interested you could do some reading over by the library. Tip: don’t check the biographical section, I’m a fan of those books and I know Alto isn’t described in any of them.’
‘I’ll keep that in mind, I guess,’ Octavia said.
Violetta looked up at the sky and blinked. ‘Wife should be getting home from work soon. A lady finishing a night shift is not someone you want to keep waiting—I’d say see you soon, but I doubt you’ll be coming to a locked building this early again.’
'It was a pleasure meeting you, Violetta.'
Violetta nodded, and soon the dustpan and broom rose to his side as he walked away.
Octavia thought for a moment. There was someone she needed to see.
~|D|~
'Hello?’
A door opened, ever so slightly, revealing part of Staccato’s face through the crack. ‘Ah. Octavia. I had a feeling you’d come to my door after... recent events.’ The door swung open.
‘What?’ Octavia replied, blinking confusedly. ‘I really doubt you know what I wanted to talk about.’
Staccato closed his eyes and smiled. This wasn’t a smile of happiness, but a smile of defeat. ‘Come in,’ he ushered. ‘There’s a bit of stuff I should mention.’
Octavia bit her lip and entered. Staccato closed the door behind her, then walked over to the lone couch sitting one wall and sat down. There wasn’t much more in the single room that made up his apartment, save for a television in front of the couch on an old stand, an ajar door in the corner that revealed a small bathroom and a few kitchen appliances in another corner.
‘Do you sleep on the couch?’ Octavia questioned. Staccato nodded.
‘Have a seat if you like,’ Staccato said, gesturing to the open seat next to him. Octavia stood where she was. ‘As you’re no doubt aware, I’ve been feeling some nerves lately. Acting differently, perhaps due to the fear of everything that’s been going on.’
‘I haven’t been feeling like myself for a while now, either,’ Octavia replied. ‘It’s nice knowing someone else is in the same boat as you, huh?’
Staccato shook his head. ‘Not when neither of us can get rid of what’s bothering us. Not something fixable like stage fright, but something built out of passion, need and curiosity.’ He lowered his eyes. ‘Just so we’re clear, these three things are not because I’m hitting on you or anything.’
‘If you’re going to talk like that, I might as well just leave.’
Staccato chuckled. ‘I know, humour right out of left field. You know, I once loved someone. You’re probably well aware that that pony was Sonata, but I had more of a... well, a different kind of love with someone else. The same one you went crazy over in Ponyville, something that happened to me long ago and stayed with me ever since.’
Octavia drew in a deep breath. ‘The Dancer,’ she said, with heavy breaths, as she looked straight to Staccato. ‘I had a feeling we had her in common. I’m glad we’re on the same page.’
Staccato frowned. ‘She affected me in a different way than you, it seems. Where she’s given you passion for music and made you obsess over her, I obsessed over her when there was someone else I should have been obsessing over. Now I can’t stand Sonata. The effect was very different for the two of us.’
‘I wouldn’t really call it an obsession...’
Octavia paused.
‘Hey,’ Staccato said, shrugging. ‘I didn’t mean to make it an extreme case or anything. It’s just that this entire situation is probably not going to work out well for you in the end. I’ve been nervous—and was so cautious when we were still in Ponyville—because you showed the same signs I did when I was younger. We’ve gone so far, with so much left to go, that I didn’t want any of us screwing this up.’
Octavia stared. ‘So this is a precautionary tale, then. I’ve been acting normal for a while now, haven’t I? There’s really no need to worry about me becoming a recluse or whatever like you were.’
Staccato looked to the floor, waited a moment, then looked back up at Octavia. ‘I’ll ignore that for the time being. I understand where you’re coming from, but you won’t be able to stop thinking about her for a long time, possibly never, always wondering how you can make her happy. The supernatural never shakes from you, and unless their spirits are happy, that will never change.’
‘Happy...’
Staccato sighed. ‘Now I’m just deepening your curiosity, aren’t I.’
Octavia stepped forward. ‘No, you just reminded me of something. Where we play our music now? The amphitheatre? It used to be called something else.’
‘Octavia, I don’t see how—’
‘It used to be called the Alto Memorial Hall, Staccato. And I saw him at our last concert.’
Staccato’s mouth opened—he blinked, then stared shocked at Octavia.
‘If you know anything about her, Staccato, and I know you do, then you know who Alto is. We can bring them back together, somehow,’ Octavia exclaimed, widening her eyes. ‘If we just think about it, we can discover the missing piece that these two have to fill in to see each other again and be truly happy. We can bring them back together, Staccato.’
Staccato was silent.
‘Surely you must be thinking the same way I am,’ Octavia continued. ‘After all of this time, there’s a chance we can—’
‘Get out.’ Staccato rose from his seat and pointed to the door with gritted teeth. ‘Not only have I just found out that your obsession has gone far too deep, but you’ve poisoned my mind with these thoughts after trying so hard to get rid of them.’
Octavia recoiled. ‘Staccato...?’
‘Don’t pursue any of this nonsense anymore, Octavia.’ Staccato’s voice rose. ‘Do you understand? If you’ve seen this, this... figure, then it will never leave your thoughts unless you abandon both of the dancers entirely. You won’t be able to focus on your work, everything that we’ve worked towards, just because of these two that have been dead for too long for anyone to care anymore. There’s no way you can bring them back together. They’re incorporeal. Nothing can.’
‘St—’
‘The more you talk about it, the more it hurts to think about.’ Staccato lowered his voice. ‘Please, just go home and rest on this. The news of Alto is hurting me enough.’
Octavia felt her eyes water. Before the twinkle became tears, she turned, breathing heavily, towards the door. Staccato said nothing as she opened the door and left—her body wanted to look back and see Staccato’s face, but her mind told her no.
How could he say something like that?
Octavia could hear the door shut as she walked down the hallway out of Staccato’s apartment floor.
Is he honestly trying to help me by acting like a delusional, insulting jerk? It’s probably more of his “leader” schtick.
Octavia’s steps became more and more pronounced. Her frustration turned into a snarl.
I’ll tell everyone about it. As friends, they’ll all understand. We can resolve this together.
~|D|~
‘..and I totally think that since they’re spending so much time together, they’re getting flustered and revealing their true feelings. It’s so adorable! Sonata’s a little less flustered, but I think it’s true all the same.’
Vivace giggled. She stopped on the sidewalk, looked to her left and read the plaque in front of the Manehattan Amphitheatre. ‘I wonder why only a few of the words here are faded out. I would’ve just removed the plaque if I wanted it gone.’
Octavia sighed.
‘Octy?’ Vivace turned and tilted her head. ‘You’ve barely said a word on our way here.’
Octavia took in a deep breath. ‘I had a chat with Staccato about some... things, recently. Tell me, Vivace, do you trust me?’
Vivace raised a brow. ‘What kind of a question is that? First I start talking about romance, then uh, this?’
‘Please Vivace.’
Vivace squirmed. ‘I’m only uncomfortable because it’s a weird topic. You already know I trust you more than anyone, Octy. What’s this all about?’
‘Nothing, Viv. Let’s go rehearse.’
The two ponies entered the quiet amphitheatre, Vivace giving her friend worried looks all the while. The rest of the Ponyville Players stood, on the stage, preparing their instruments.
‘You’re worrying me, Octavia. Don’t go back to where you were before.’
‘I worry myself all the time. You get used to it eventually.’
Staccato looked up from his piano. ‘I have things to do tonight, so I’d be glad if we got a couple of songs in quick before tomorrow’s concert. I don’t think we’ll have too much trouble, but I’d like to make sure we’re all in tune just the same.’ His eyes caught Octavia’s. ‘Good to see you, Octavia. I noticed your cello was already tuned, were you practicing yesterday?’
Octavia nodded. Staccato glared.
‘Very well. Less time preparing, then—let’s begin, shall we?’
Sonata cleared her throat as Octavia and Vivace took their instruments, lying in their cases right where they play. Waltz began a beat.
Octavia thought about her play when Alto appeared. Would he return if she played the same?
‘Let’s do “Premonition” first,’ Sonata said. ‘One, and two, and three, and...!’
The band began to play their next piece, a calm tune with mild percussion and a dominant piano backing. Octavia, however, rose in pitch when the rest went down, strung together notes when she should have held them, and played louder when the rest went quiet. Staccato looked to Octavia as everyone played, angrily hitting the keys on his piano harder and harder.
‘I thought you’d readjust yourself,’ Staccato yelled, prompting everyone to stop playing. ‘But it turns out you’re intentionally playing our last concert piece instead of our next one. I don’t think I need to explain why that’s ridiculous, do I?’
‘I dunno,’ Vivace said meekly, ‘it sounded kinda cool together—’
‘Not important, Vivace.’
Octavia resumed playing. Maybe if she could get him to show up, she could...
‘Octavia!’
She continued to play. A faint image of something appeared center stage, but the wisp quickly faded, leaving Octavia with a sick feeling in her stomach. Her playing stopped. The rest of the Ponyville Players rushed to her side.
‘Octavia, are you okay?’ Sonata said, looking directly into her eyes. ‘Did you experience shock? Did you hit your head on something?’
Staccato took a step towards her. ‘Yes, Octavia, I’m sure we’re all dying to hear just what the problem is.’
Octavia laid her instrument down gently on the stage floor and began walking towards the steps down off of the platform. ‘I...’ she began, stuttering all the while. ‘I have something I need to check up on. I’ll be back soon, alright?’
Vivace rushed up to her, eyes narrows. ‘No, Octy. You’re gonna tell me what’s wrong.’
Octavia turned to her friends, all looking at her worriedly. Staccato closed his eyes and shook his head.
‘I don’t understand,’ Octavia said. ‘Why don’t you guys see what I see? The ponies, the dancer, the life... I-I think you guys would really like seeing them, if you tried hard enough.’
Vivace blinked. ‘What?’
‘The two dancers! There was one in Ponyville, and one here—’ Octavia spoke quicker ‘—and they’ve been dead for a long time, but they’ve been appearing for me, and...’
The Ponyville Players stared at Octavia, more confused than surprised.
‘I’ve been seeing two ghosts, one in each place. They have a storied history, and I need to find out how to bring them together—Staccato,’ Octavia said, turning to Staccato. ‘Help me out here. Please.’
Staccato shook his head. ‘I don’t know what you expect me to say, Octavia.’
The room was silent. Staccato was leering.
‘Well then,’ Octavia said, looking at the floor. ‘I guess I’ll be seeing you all soon.’
‘No, Octavia,’ Vivace called out as Octavia made her way out of the amphitheatre. ‘If there’s something wrong with you, we can... help. I don’t know, okay? Can we talk this out for a little bit? We don’t even understand what’s going on.’
Octavia smiled. ‘I’ll be back soon, Viv. Nothing will be wrong with me soon, once I reunite these two.’ Octavia sighed. ‘I think the next train to Ponyville will be leaving soon. I have to get going.’
‘Octy...’
Octavia quickly left the building, keeping her smile intact. As soon as she was out of eyesight of the confused troupe behind her still stunned in silence, her expression faded.
They’ll all understand soon. I have to find a way somehow. I just hope I don’t look like a fool down the road for this.
Octavia felt tears running down her cheek.
Ah.
~|D|~
Octavia thought of her abrupt leave—would Vivace be even more worried by the time she gets back?
That didn’t matter. What mattered now was if this train could go faster so she could see the dancer and tell her what she’s seen. Reunite the two lovers at last. Make everyone happy.
The train ride had actually been ahead of schedule, but it felt like the world slowed to a snail's pace for Octavia. She was excited, yet anxious, as she thought of how she would make the dancer reappear so that she can let him know about Alto. Maybe Staccato could’ve helped?
Nah.
“Welcome to Ponyville” was etched on a sign in the distance—beads of sweat appeared on Octavia’s forehead. Was she ready to come back already? What were the implications of everything that was happening?
As the outline of Ponyville grew larger and larger, her anticipation grew and grew. But, outside the window, a sight seized her chest and left her breathless. She dashed out of the train as soon as it stopped, sprinted to the nearby Hall and collapsed on the ground.
The Hall stood, bereft of... well, anything. A mess of wood, partially cleaned up, was where the Hall used to be. Splinters dug their way into Octavia's hooves as she dug through the debris, begging for a sign that she was in the wrong place. She looked around, saw familiar ponies staring back at her, downcast and sullen. The stores were all the same. There was no doubt that this was the Ponyville she knew and loved.
All was wood, pain, and the tears that flowed down Octavia’s face.
The train ride home. Not much to say about it, not much to care about. I looked out the window more times than I’d like to admit, hoping that she was there. Just as I had expected, just as I had already known, she wasn’t. But I’m not upset. I know she’s gone, so there’s no need to feel attachment to her like I did before. I’m free.
I wonder how Alto would feel about this if he was still alive. Would the hall he had spent so much time in be something he missed? ...He’s dead. And he’ll probably disappear for good when I play next.
Vinyl. I spent a little bit of time around Ponyville after I saw the destroyed hall. Couldn’t feel anything while I walked though. Vinyl was elated to see me, kept trying to tell me stories, all of that nonsense. I just couldn’t pay attention—I don’t feel bothered by all of this inside my mind, but on the outside, I feel so... lifeless. Vinyl seemed content enough when I caught the train, so I covered my bases there.
Vivace. She seems a little shellshocked after my reveal. I thought she’d be the one to try and bring me down to earth, but it hasn’t happened yet. Surprisingly, she’s barely said a word since I got back. Maybe she thinks I’m crazy? Maybe she’s not sure what to think of her best friend having seen ghosts for a while now and never telling anyone?
Sleep. Wake up. Concert. Alto isn’t there. The group is trying to look into my eyes after a concert, begging for a chance to talk. Gazer keeps interrupting the awkward silences, my saving grace.
Sleep. Wake up. Concert. The group stops looking into my eyes.
The performances seem to be a hit. Play. Applause. Curtains. You know the rest, Octavia. It’s like riding a bike—you never forget how to entertain, how to make others happy.
Next night, it’s the same. Play. Applause. Curtains. No Alleg—er, no Alto.
Applause, sleep, play... wake up... no, that order is all wrong. Concert, sleep, applause, no—
‘Octavia.’
Octavia teared her eyes away from the kitchen window. She turned and saw Vivace, staring back at her with wide, bloodshot eyes.
‘Octavia,’ Vivace repeated, blinking slowly. ‘I can’t deal with this anymore. We need to talk.’
‘About what, Viv?’ Octavia replied innocently, her eyes drooping low. She took a quick peek out the window, saw darkness, and wondered what she had been staring at. Vivace took a quick peek out the window herself as if asking the same question.
‘About the... thing.’ Vivace shook her head. ‘No, it doesn’t even need to be about the thing. I just want to hear you talk.’
‘I’m talking now, aren’t I?’
‘...’
Vivace closed her eyes. ‘Something happened when you left the amphitheatre. Whether you got upset by our reaction to what you said, or something happened before you came back home, I don’t know. But before anything else happens, you should tell me what happened. Keeping your emotions bottled behind this, this... wall you’ve set up between you and everyone else is unhealthy.’
Octavia said nothing.
‘Please, Octavia. I don’t think you’re crazy. I’m being honest.’
Octavia drew in a deep breath, and let it out slowly. She looked back out the window.
‘It’s more that I think I’m crazy,’ Octavia began. ‘I talked to Staccato about this before, and he tried warning me about this. I’m afraid that letting my emotions run free would drive me even more insane than I already am.’
‘Octy?’
Octavia raised a hoof. Vivace stayed quiet. ‘I went to Ponyville,’ Octavia continued. ‘I was planning on seeing the first pony I saw, before the one that I talked about here in Manehattan. Try and find out if I could do anything to reunite them, since they were old lovers way back before our time. I found the hall we used to play in was just a pile of sticks...’
~|D|~
Octavia stared at the rubble in front of her. Everything around her was motionless, as though the entire world had stopped for her in that moment. She tried to read the wooden sign in front of the pile, but tears forming in her eyes blurred the words too much.
‘I think you should stay away from there,’ a distant, male voice said. ‘A bunch of splintered wood is dangerous and uninteresting.’
Octavia turned around and saw the old hall keeper walking—rather slowly—towards her.
‘Wait,’ the keeper said, ‘you’re miss Octavia, aren’t you? What brings you back here to humble Ponyville?’
Octavia looked to the ground and closed her eyes.
‘I see. Some folk were pretty sad to see the place go. I mean, I kind of lost my job now that it’s a heap of garbage—not that I really need a job at my age, but it kept me occupied all the while. I had actually come to see if the work had begun on it yet... for some reason, the laws of Ponyville forbid anyone from building on plots of land not dictated by some document. This is the only place that can be worked on.’
Octavia turned back to the rubble. She read the sign: “Future Site of the Renovated Ponyville Music Hall”.
‘The owner of the place was already having a tough time even with you guys playing there and filling up the seats, but it was probably going to go down within the month even if you all did stay. Someone from another city... Fillydelphia, was it? I’m not sure who it was, but they bought the place out and asked the town what they want from the building now that the plot of land belonged to him. Ponies liked the hall, so he decided to scrap the decrepit one and make a much more, uh, hospitable place.’
Octavia walked over to the rubble. Lying beneath several boards of wood was a shard of painted glass.
‘Cleared the place right out. I’d be careful if I were you, though, since there could be sharp edges in there. There was glass in the hall, if you remember.’
Octavia turned to the keeper once more. ‘Thank you,’ she said quietly. ‘Please, I need a moment.’
The keeper nodded his head. ‘Alright. Please, take a piece of the rubble as a reminder of the old place. I’m sure it would be a worthwhile memento, if you have any cherished memory of the place.
The keeper turned and left Octavia to the rubble. If there was anyone else nearby, she didn’t know—everything was still, and everything was quiet.
It’s gone.
She couldn’t just take a piece from the rubble. It was all junk, now.
She’s gone.
‘...and then I kinda just walked around. I guess I’m not really getting emotional about the whole thing since it’s left me too emotionally exhausted to feel anything.’
Vivace placed a hoof on Octavia’s shoulder. ‘It’s a bummer that the hall went down, but we’ve made progress here. You aren’t crazy. If those ponies really did exist long ago and you described them perfectly, then there’s no way you could have imagined them without meeting them in person.’ Vivace smiled. Octavia still looked out the window, but she could see the smile through a the glass’s faint reflection. ‘I never stopped trusting you. I just didn’t trust myself to say the right thing to help you out.’
Octavia closed her eyes and smiled. ‘Thank you, Vivace,’ she whispered, almost so quietly that Vivace could barely hear. Her gratitude was met with a warm embrace.
‘You always have a friend in me.’
Octavia, eyes still closed, could feel a tear forming in her left eye. Vivace’s embraces loosened up.
‘You’ve got a week until our next concert. Letting loose your emotions now is the healthiest thing you can do.’
As Vivace patted Octavia’s back, the wall in her mind began to crack. The emotions poured out through tears, but they were not from sorrow. Then, the wall was no more.
It wasn’t enough, though. In the place of the wall, the obsession returned. But at least Octavia was back.
~|D|~
The smell of frying bacon wafted through the apartment. There were hints of something sweet, and hints of something fruity, but neither could mask the overwhelming smell of meat. Octavia’s mouth watered, her nose perked up and her eyes opened quickly, but the rest of her body would not allow her to get up out of bed.
‘Bacon...’
The bedroom’s lights flickered on, revealing Vivace smiling brightly at the doorframe.
‘Smell that?’ Vivace said, raising a confident brow. ‘Don’t worry, I wouldn’t dream of forcing you out of bed for breakfast, at least not in your situation.’
‘Wh... what situation?’ Octavia replied slowly. She frowned. ‘And why can’t I re... *yawn* ...remember last night?’
Vivace giggled. ‘I’ll let you know when I’m back with breakfast.’
Octavia raised her hoof, and Vivace stopped at the doorframe. Octavia drew in a deep breath, then pushed herself out of bed and, sloppily, onto the ground.
‘Hangover,’ Octavia groaned. ‘I think I’m getting a feeling about what happened last night.’
‘I wanted to go drinking tonight. If you had listened to me, then you wouldn’t be in this situation.’
Octavia rolled her eyes. ‘Then I’d have a hangover tomorrow. Before a concert.’
Vivace stuck out her tongue and turned to the kitchen. Octavia followed suit.
‘So you made breakfast yourself?’ Octavia questioned, frowning ever so slightly. ‘I can’t, uh, wait to try it.’
‘Hey now, I think I did a pretty great job.’ Vivace walked over to the stove, scooping out some bacon and placing them on two plates along with strawberries and golden-brown pancakes. ‘...ah, I suppose I should mention that I just had these delivered from the restaurant a few buildings down and fried up a little bit of bacon. I know I’m a pretty terrible cook.’
‘You aren’t that bad,’ Octavia said, smiling. ‘You were able to fry up the bacon, that’s a step up from before.’
Vivace raised a brow as she lifted the plates, stacked on top of each other in one hoof, and walked over to the table. ‘Guess you got me there. If you want a drink, then you’ll have to get it yourself—I’m sure if I’m so bad in the kitchen then I’d find a way to burn the water.’
‘That’s pretty impressive, you know. Stacking those plates on one hoof like that and all... you’d be a pretty good waitress.’
Vivace rolled her eyes. ‘Funny. I’m amazed you can smile in the morning with a hangover, let alone crack some jokes. It is good to see you smile, though.’
Octavia’s smile widened.
‘Quit it, you goof. You know, you look pretty funny with your messed-up morning hair and that toothy smile, I wish I had a camera on me.’ Vivace’s face perked up. ‘Oh, you got some mail in today. I left it at the front door.’
‘Who sent it?’
Vivace shrugged and took a bite of her pancake. ‘Not sure,’ she said, muffled by the pancake, ‘I didn’t really take a good look at it. I care more about this delicious pancake.’
Octavia took a bite from the pancake, and she nodded her head as she chewed.
‘So you’re finally going to get to wear your dress,’ Vivace said brightly. ‘Tomorrow’s concert is going to be really special. I’ve wanted to wear our things for ages, but Staccato keeps insisting that when we, uh, “don” them that it has to make an artistic statement at the right time.’
‘The black one? I completely forgot about that thing.’
‘Yeah, Staccato mentioned a month ago that we’d be wearing them today. I guess it wasn’t important enough for there to be a reminder when we play.’
‘Good memory, Viv.’ Octavia paused for a moment. ‘The dress was cute, kind of a bummer I haven’t gotten to put it on yet.’
‘I think they’re at the amphitheatre,’ Vivace said. She looked up from the table and into Octavia’s eyes. ‘Speaking of amphitheatre... do you know what you’re going to say to the group once we get to rehearsal?’
‘Viv, you really don’t need to worry. I can handle things, and this time I’m being completely sincere. Talking to them is probably easier to deal with than your cooking, anyway.’
Vivace narrowed her eyes. ‘You haven’t cooked anything more advanced than eggs in the past month, you probably aren’t any better.’
Once finished with the last bite of her pancake, Vivace rose from the table and stretched her hooves.
‘I’m gonna go get some groceries,’ Vivace said. ‘Normally I’d suggest you go drink some more water, but you seem to have a superpower when it comes to hangovers. See you in a bit.’
Vivace walked to the front door, waved Octavia farewell and went out of sight, leaving the door wide open. As Octavia watched her leave, a small white envelope caught her eye, sitting on the floor right at the door. Raising a brow, she left her half-eaten breakfast behind for this new mystery.
At the top of the envelope, a word stood out immediately to Octavia, who promptly gasped and ripped the envelope open in seconds.
Ponyville.
Once the envelope had opened and its letter removed, a small splinter of wood fell out and onto the floor. Octavia read:
‘“Dear Octavia, I noticed you didn’t want to pick anything up from the pile of sticks back here in Ponyville. It took me a little while to find a proper address, but I’m sure by know you regret your decision to keep a memento. Enclosed is a splinter of wood, light brown as I’m sure you noticed, that came from the stage. You can trust that it came from there since the rest of the building was built with a much deeper shade of brown. I’ve spent a lot of time there.”’ Octavia looked up to the ceiling, mouth agape, as a tear formed in her eye. She fought back tears as she looked back down to the page. ‘“I hope you enjoy the gift. I know a little more than I let on sometimes, even if I’m a bit senile in my old age. I’m sure you know what to do with it. Signed, a crazy old man.”’
Octavia looked away from the letter and stared, in silence, at the splinter on the floor. Something strange was in the air. A feeling she hadn’t felt in quite some time—cold, but very familiar.
‘Allegrezza...’
Octavia’s eyes rose from the splinter and to the open door in front of her. Vivace, staring blankly at her through the doorframe, quivered.
‘Octavia, I he... I heard the letter. Please... please don’t—’
Octavia raised a hoof. ‘I need time to think.’
The cellist, stone-faced, picked the splinter up and retreated to the bedroom. She was not heard from all day, not for meals, not for chat, nothing.
Vivace and Octavia, in complete silence, walked down the street the following morning. Vivace kicked up some dust, and Octavia’s head and eyes were stuck to the clouds. The amphitheatre was still a little ways away.
Unprovoked, Octavia stopped, smiled, and turned her head to Vivace.
‘Thank you, Viv.’
Before Vivace had time to reply, Octavia wrapped her hooves around her friend in a close embrace. Vivace stopped for a moment to take it all in.
‘I’m not even going to question this,’ Vivace said, returning the embrace.
Octavia giggled. ‘I was about to cry, but that was just too funny. Even if you didn’t intend it. You’re just... such a pleasant pony to be around. I really hope you don’t think I was trying to shut you out completely last night, I just—’
‘Nah, you don’t need to keep explaining everything to me,’ Vivace said, smiling. ‘She’s in that splinter you have wedged in your neck bow, isn’t she?’
Octavia withdrew from the embrace and raised a hoof to her own neck. She nodded.
‘I wouldn’t want to intrude on a friendly reunion, would I?’ Vivace shrugged. ‘Or intrude on your meditation about what’s going on. If it were anything else, I would’ve been knocking on your door all day and all last night.’
The two ponies continued to walk, smiling brightly along the way. They didn’t see it, but the clouds in the sky started to disperse.
‘Listen, Vivace...’
‘Yeah?’
Octavia drew in a deep breath, then let it all out. ‘Do you still trust me?’
‘You asked me that question already.’
‘I know. I need to hear it again.’
‘Is Staccato a loser?’ Vivace snickered. ‘Yes. There is your serious, one hundred percent true, reply. You’d never lose my trust, Octy.’
Octavia looked once more to the sky. ‘I’m glad. Like yesterday, like last week, like always... thank you for being there for me, Viv. Today, everything is going to get better.’
Both ponies soon found themselves standing in front of the Manehattan Amphitheatre. It was only rehearsal, but it was the start of something new for a talented, troubled cellist.
‘I certainly hope so, Octy.’
ENCORE
‘Today’s the day we stop being just musicians, my friends,’ Staccato said, flashing a toothy smile. ‘With our music, our outfits, and our sound, we become artists. Everything we play today, I’m sure we’ll get a chance to try recording it and such.’
The rest of the Ponyville Players set up their instruments, as Staccato—his piano sitting alone at the back of the stage—looked out to the rows upon rows of empty seats inside the amphitheatre. He inhaled deeply through his nose, then let it all out slowly through his mouth.
‘Smells like success, darlings. Your clothes are sitting in the back room, but I don’t want to get them all sweaty before the concert. We’ll leave them for the rehearsal.’ Staccato walked over to the piano. ‘Give me a minute, just making sure my piano is tuned.’
Octavia’s cello stood upright next to her, held by one hand and her bow in the other. She breathed in, then out, then in again before Vivace came over and put a hoof on her shoulder. Octavia turned to her, and Vivace nodded her head.
‘Hey, uh... guys?’ Octavia said, looking one by one at her fellow musicians. All of them stopped what they were doing. ‘You don’t need to be giving me those pitiful looks anymore. Not in a bad way or anything, I just... I think I had a little bit too much stress lately, and finding out that the Ponyville Music Hall was sold and demolished was the straw that broke the camel’s back—’
‘Wait,’ Sonata said, raising a brow. ‘So your silence and that breakdown before you left the building was because of the hall being destroyed?’
‘Well, um—’
‘Octavia, there’s nothing that we need to forgive you for.’ Sonata gave Octavia a careful smile. Waltz, Treble and Clef all did the same. ‘We all found out about it too. In fact, if we had known that’s what you were upset about, why you were so delusional that you saw ghosts, then we would’ve grieved with you too. It was pretty special for all of us.’
Octavia blinked. She looked to Staccato, begging for answers, but he stared back from behind his piano, eyes piercing through her soul. Vivace shook her head.
‘It’s not important,’ Sonata continued. ‘What happened, happened. Let’s get to it—Staccato, cue us in?’
Staccato fought back a frown. He cleared his throat. ‘Very well. Let’s start with Temperate so we can get all of our instruments going, shall we? Remember to keep things mild here.’
Sonata approached the microphone, and as Waltz hit his snare, she sang.
‘The heat—oh! The stress—no! The old procession cries for a time, a time when all was quiet and peaceful...’
Octavia’s notes were quiet and calm, but she wasn’t into her music. She wasn’t even all that concerned about Sonata, Treble & Clef, and Waltz. They could be informed about the truth of the matter later, once the big concert is only a memory.
That look Staccato gave her...
~|D|~
‘I hear people chatting out there, Clef.’
‘So do I, Treble. This is so exciting... your look is also pretty exciting.’
Treble, donning a grey, spaghetti-strap dress with a black sash going down from her neck and around her waist, twirled. Clef watched with excitement, her own grey dress sporting a sash that went around her neck like a scarf and draped down to her hooves when she stood on her hindlegs. The tail end of the sash curled up to her knee.
‘My goodness,’ Treble said excitedly. ‘Look at us when we’re together, and we become...’
Clef hugged Treble. ‘We become a perfect treble clef. Isn’t that awesome?’
Sonata giggled. She sported a very large, poofy orange dress with a large bottom half almost akin to a wedding dress. ‘Nice, that’s pretty clever.’
Staccato, blushing, had on a blue marching band coat with thick extensions broadening his shoulders. ‘Sonata,’ he began, ‘Y-you brought that dress with you all this time? I haven’t seen you wear that, since, well—’
‘I know, Staccato. I know.’ Sonata sighed. ‘Vivace loved the rose one I bought, so I gave it to her instead.’
Waltz was in the corner of the room, twirling his drumsticks with a simple striped shirt.
‘Did the second best drummer of all time really wear just that?’ Vivace said, wearing the rose-coloured dress from the store, still untouched and never worn. ‘That doesn’t seem very special to me.’
‘Best drummer, Vivace.’ Waltz rolled his eyes. ‘Keith Loon is the best. Not even The Animal could top him.’
‘If you say so,’ Vivace said, sticking out her tongue.
Octavia, outside and away from the action, paced herself. She had on her minimalist black dress, which didn’t seem to shine as much in the evening light as it did when she first got it. Her thoughts were interrupted by the slow creak of the back door, to which the band leader himself emerged.
Staccato looked away for a moment. ‘I once had an entire week where I shut myself out completely, you know. I mean, I ruined things with Sonata for a lot longer than that, and I certainly wasn’t open to everything outside of that week. But I never left the hall during that time. She was so clear, so visible to me, that it almost felt like she was completely real.’ He reached out into the air. ‘And then she came to me again at the end of the week, a little bit less clear than normal. She was fading from my life.
‘Not to be deterred, I shaped up and apologized to Sonata for everything I had done. We were still friends and musicians at that point, even if she had grown tired of me romantically. The next time we played together at the hall, I did something crazy. I saw glimpses of... her, and I played something completely different from what I was supposed to, trying to make her come to me at full force. She disappeared, Sonata was appalled, and everything was ruined. To this day, she still doesn’t know why this all happened, even if she had some hints... well, maybe she did, but I never told her anything.’
Staccato lowered his hoof from the sky and looked to the ground. Silence for an entire minute.
‘I never saw Allegrezza after that.’
Silence once more.
‘Allegrezza...’
Silence. After another moment of waiting, Staccato lifted his head and looked directly into Octavia’s eyes. He began walking towards her as he spoke, inching slower and slower with every word.
‘When I became so disheartened and obsessed, I went into a near-exile. When you were sad about the hall collapsing, you did the same.’ Another step. ‘Where I was set to play at the hall, you’re currently set to play at one of the biggest, if not the single biggest, concert of you life.’ The gravel at his feet crunched as he took another step. Octavia didn’t know what to do, and her forehead began sweating profusely. ‘Everything I, we... no, not even we at this point. We’ve all worked hard, but I’ve been waiting my entire life to be remembered as more than just a simple musician or a member of a pretty cool band.’
Staccato stopped inches from Octavia. His eyes narrowed. ‘This is where our image is made. When I played my music at the hall, I ruined everything. If you follow history and ruin everything, then you won’t have just ruined Waltz’s, Treble’s, Clef’s, Vivace’s, your own... all of your lives, but you will have crushed Sonata and I for the second time. Too much time wasted for us.’
Staccato put a hoof to his mouth and relaxed his body. ‘I don’t like getting intense, but if we make an artistic statement tonight, then anything we screw up on will be on our artistic footprint forever. Our own songs, our own attire, none of those were factors when we just played to be faceless entertainers.’ He turned and walked over to the back door. Before he went through, he stopped, looked over his shoulder and gave Octavia a stern look. ‘I know you don’t like me, and you sure as hell don’t listen to me. But for the good of us all, just play what you were meant to play. If you don’t want to be around us anymore, I’ll figure something out later on. This isn’t the time for it.’
Octavia stared blankly to Staccato.
‘Viva la dancer, my dear Octavia. If Gazer was here, I’m sure he’d tell you to knock ‘em dead.’
Staccato walked through the door.
Finale. Staccato’s little speech can’t stop me.
Octavia closed her eyes and entered the world of her song. For some inexplicable reason, she did so on a dime, and without any music around her. Her walk into the back room was silent; she could not hear Vivace’s excitement over her dress, or the concert, or feel Staccato’s glare at his piano as she walked over to her cello.
Armed with her bow, the spotlight beamed down. She could feel the thumping of heartbeats around her like a percussion crew. The applause was the opening snare drum. The curtains opening was the string section as they slid along the top of the stage. The ensuing silence from the applause fading—no, there wasn’t silence. The faint wind in the air were the woodwind instruments.
Where there were seven Ponyville Players physically present, an orchestra of seventy made their way into her world.
‘Now, from the Ponyville Players, Temperate,’ a voice coming from speakers around the amphitheatre proclaimed.
Octavia played on tune, carefully keeping her notes quiet and calm as the song dictated. Something seemed to poke her hoof, the one that held her bow, but nothing was in the way. The splinter from Ponyville was taped in the middle of the wooden section of the bow, as if the notes she played was the splinter calling out to her.
Octavia shook out of her trance. The world of her music was no more; just peaceful music.
‘And now, Bring it Back,’ the announcer called out as the applause faded. Treble and Clef laid down their flutes and rose on their hindlegs. As the rest of the Ponyville Players played, once again quite calmly, the twins danced. Something poked Octavia’s hoof once more.
‘Get it Together is up next.’ Treble and Clef picked up their flutes once more, and the group played a fast-paced, jazz-inspired piece. Octavia’s mind relaxed.
On the songs went, four more pieces of various tempos and variety of instruments. Soon, the amphitheatre went dark. The applause sounded from the last song, heralding in the next piece.
‘Now for a solo act by miss Octavia, the rising cellist. Here is Solemn Vow.’
A single spotlight shone over Octavia, capturing the attention of everyone in the amphitheatre. In the darkness behind her were her idle friends, watching intently as Octavia picked up her bow once more. She could not see, but Staccato’s forehead was glistening with sweat.
Octavia exhaled. Her mind left the world of the amphitheatre, and her bow seemed to instinctively move on its own, playing the same tune she had played all of those nights ago. In her world, an apparition of Alto appeared in front of her. However, she was not phased in the slightest.
‘My world is not the real one,’ Octavia whispered, so quietly she could not hear the words herself. The notes were not quick, they were not filled with incredible energy, but now was not the time for such things, she thought.
A few more moments and she opened her eyes, and a shimmer appeared at the front of the stage. Applause rang through the building as thunderous as Waltz’s eventual snare drum, which heralded in the next tune. In this one, Sonata walked over to the piano as the rest of the Players stood in darkness, the spotlight moving to the bench where Sonata soon sat next to Staccato.
Octavia gave herself a chance to look over to Vivace, who seemed to have a smile brimming from one corner of her face to the other as she watched the two play a piano duet. Sonata was belting lyrics from her heart, every word more powerful than anything Octavia had ever heard her sing.
Were she not so distracted by the male figure faintly appearing at the front of the stage, she would surely feel something strong from this powerhouse of a song.
As Sonata and Staccato finished singing and playing the last verse together, ending things off with a deep piano hit, the building roared with even more applause than before. The two rose, took a bow, and the building faded to blackness. The curtains closed, and Octavia’s sightline on the figure closed. He didn’t disappear.
‘I can’t believe we’re almost finished, Sonata said, grinning as beads of sweat ran down her neck. ‘I haven’t felt that incredible in a long time, Staccato.’
Staccato grinned in turn. ‘Yeah, that was far better than anything we’ve done in rehearsals.’ He wiped the sweat from his brow and looked to Octavia. ‘Everything seemed to work even better than we had planned, huh?’
Octavia smiled back. Staccato straightened his expression and looked to the entire group.
‘It’s not over though, everyone. Not by a long shot. I trust you two will be able to handle our finale’s intro, right Treble and Clef?’
The two girls nodded gleefully. Clef even jumped, flute still held firmly in her hoof.
‘Don’t break that now.’ Staccato took in a deep breath. ‘I suggest everyone else take a deep breath, because we’ve never played this song outside of rehearsals. The energy a song of this length takes from you is beyond anything you’ve probably experienced to this point, considering the audience’s effect makes things much worse than a bunch of empty seats.’
‘And now,’ the announcer began, ‘Flute Loop, by Treble and Clef.’
Treble and Clef walked out of the curtains and into the small, flutes ready. As they played, the rest of the Players waited behind the curtains at their instruments, steel-faced and giddy.
‘This is it,’ Staccato whispered. ‘Let’s give it all we got.’
Octavia turned to the group. ‘I’ll cue you guys.’
‘Wha—’
Before Staccato could say anything, the curtains opened.
‘And now, the finale, Caravan.’
In the calm before the storm, Octavia could feel her friends’ hearts beating once more. One of them was beating so quickly, so erratically, that it was unmistakeable which piano-loving player was beyond flustered at his instrument. It didn’t matter. Octavia was already back in her world of sound, of nothing beyond the beats that surrounded her and the glimmer of Alto.
Snare. Cymbal. Waltz started to bang wildly on his drum kit, opening for Octavia to play long, quiet notes for another several seconds. Staccato’s piano soon followed, and for a moment, Octavia could tell his notes were a bit off for a second or two. Once he regained his footing on the music, Vivace’s trumpet joined the tune.
As soon as the flutes joined in, the entire group rose in tempo and volume until a final, blaring cymbal crash quieted them all down. For the next few minutes, the trumpet blared, the piano rocked, and the song continued down its normal pace. Time went on and Alto’s figure became clearer and clearer, until soon he was dancing along with the music, mostly transparent but very much real to Octavia.
Then, the music rose in tempo and volume once more, but this time the buildup was much stronger, and the length of the notes even longer than before. Everything continued until the trumpet, flutes and piano played their highest-pitched note, Octavia had her bow lowered, and Waltz was hitting everything on his kit at full force.
A final cymbal crash, the music stopped, and the room went dark. Then, as Octavia looked back into the darkness, she could faintly see Staccato shaking his head vigorously.
Nevertheless, she played. She played without a care in the world, as everything in the world suddenly disappeared. Her foreleg frantically churned out a solo the likes of which she hadn’t seen since long ago. The spotlight shone on her, and although her body could feel the glares of her bandmates behind her, her mind was nowhere near them. It just listened to the music being played.
As she single-handedly filled the room with intense, passionate music, the figure at the front of the stage looked back, surprised. Alto became translucent.
Octavia’s eyes widened, but she kept playing. Alto walked over to her, slowly, inching forward every few seconds.
Only a few feet from Octavia, Alto stopped. He looked at her bow, raised a hoof to the splinter, and gasped. Through all of the music, through everything going on, Octavia could hear the stallion gasping at the sight on her instrument.
And then, as if to stop Octavia’s heart, Alto smiled. Octavia smiled back, and her playing slowed down. She turned to her fellow musicians, and she nodded towards Vivace. Vivace nodded back.
Soon, a trumpet joined the declining solo. Vivace’s eyes moved to the front of the stage, where her eyes widened in surprise.
She sees.
Octavia, continuing to play, nodded to Waltz, who nodded back and played a backing snare beat.
Octavia, continuing to play, nodded to Treble and Clef, who both nodded back and played the same whole, low note over and over again.
Octavia, continuing to play, nodded to Sonata, who walked over to the piano and began to hit the same key over and over again, also low in tone.
Octavia, continuing to play, nodded to Staccato. Time seemed to stop as she did—Staccato’s eyes were closed and his head was hung, defeated, in the darkness that surrounded the rest of the stage. Octavia’s heart sank.
Then, Sonata’s free hoof rested on Staccato’s shoulder. Staccato opened his eyes and looked to the other pianist, both locking eyes in this split second where everything was still.
Staccato blinked, then turned to Octavia, smiled, and nodded.
Octavia looked back at the crowd, then stopped playing. Her bow hoof rose into the air, and everyone else stopped playing. For a moment, everything was still once more.
Then, when her hoof was lowered, the stillness was gone. Everyone played the loudest, highest note they could all at once while Waltz pounded away at his kit once more with even more fervour than he had done before. Cymbal crash. Lights faded.
Curtains. But not before the rest of the Ponyville Players looked to the front of the stage and saw something magical, something beyond anything they could have ever imagined. Alto, as visible as anyone else in the amphitheatre, was dancing alone, smiling all the while.
~|D|~
‘That...’
Star Gazer sat down on the bench in the amphitheatre back room, gasping for breath.
‘I’ve never been that into a song in my entire life. I can’t even believe that just happened.’
‘We can barely believe it either, my friend,’ Staccato said, sitting down next to him. ‘I think it’s a fitting end for our band.’
Star Gazer’s eyes widened. ‘Uh... huh?’
‘Please, can we have a moment to talk amongst ourselves?’
‘B-but wait, you’re leaving?’
‘Please, my friend.’
Star Gazer blinked several times, and as he walked out the back door, he murmured endlessly to himself, confused.
Staccato closed his eyes and sighed. ‘So we all saw him, huh?’
The group nodded.
‘I don’t really have much to say about that, since I’m sure we’re reeling in shock right now. We’re all exhausted physically from the concert, and emotionally from that sight. A... Alto.’
Nods around the room again.
‘If anyone needs any questions answered on that figure, I’d suggest talking to Octavia or I about it. That being said, this has given me some... some things, as it were, to think about.’ Staccato sighed. ‘I can’t do this. Don’t try and convince me otherwise, but I think I need to go play on my own. I can’t explain why.’
Sonata rested a hoof on Staccato’s shoulder. ‘Staccato, I—’
‘Sonata, I said don’t try and—’
‘I was going to say, before you interrupted me, that we need you. That chemistry we shared, it’s something that I haven’t seen since we were kids.’ Sonata blushed as she spoke. ‘You know what I mean. As a group, we can get through things together.’
‘Yeah, make that two, Staccy,’ Vivace cheered.
‘Three’s company,’ Treble said.
‘Four’s a crowd, but a crowd that can make some awesome music,’ Clef said.
Waltz shrugged. ‘Now that I’m out of my shell, I don’t really care what happens. I just bang on the drums and make sounds come out.’
The group giggled.
‘I suppose we have time to talk about this later,’ Staccato said, ‘but really, thanks you guys. I know I’ve been a bit of a grouch lately, but things will change.’ Staccato looked to Octavia. ‘What about you, Octavia? You seem... disjointed.’
Octavia looked to the ceiling. ‘I don’t think I want to stay,’ she said with a straight face. ‘This isn't my home. It's a home forced on me, and I don't want to get trapped in an endless loop of depressing nights. I miss Vinyl, I miss my home in Ponyville, and I miss playing for a smaller group.’ Octavia smiled. ‘I hope you all understand. I don’t want there to be any sorrowful goodbyes, so
‘But we can get through things together,’ Vivace said sadly. A tear began forming in her eye. ‘Please, Octavia.’
‘I don’t want to be unhappy anymore,’ Octavia said, wiping away Vivace’s tear. ‘Besides, it’s not very hard to visit me. If you’re upset about seeing me, then that’s definitely not a problem.’
Vivace tried to get a grasp on what to say, but she could not. ‘I... I’ll come visit, and I’ll write to you every day. Promise me you’ll write back.’
‘I promise.’
‘And promise me you’ll come watch our shows.’
‘I promise.’
‘And promise me... and, and...’
Staccato coughed. ‘I think we should calm down for just a moment. Octavia, do what you need to do.’
Octavia nodded. In turn, she hugged Vivace, who fought back tears, then to Treble, then Clef, then Sonata.
‘Thank you,’ Sonata said, wiping her eye. ‘Damn, looks like I can’t stop it either.’
Octavia’s mind could not come up with enough sadness to cry, as there were too many images of Alto and Allegrezza taking up space. With a final wave, she walked out the back door.
I guess I could’ve milked out a longer goodbye, or a party, or something like that. Damn, I hate goodbyes.
‘Octavia,’ Staccato’s voice called out from behind the back door. Soon, he emerged just as he did before, this time with a smile on his face. ‘Just a moment, please.’
Octavia stopped and turned to face him.
‘I know I was a huge jerk, but I think everything I was doing was out of insanity for what was going through my head about Allegrezza. Seems like after all of these years, she still plagues me to this day... but when I saw Alto, that changed. In that moment I saw him, I felt incredible, but I also felt horrible for making you endure all that you did on my behalf.’
Octavia nodded. ‘I understand. Everything worked out well in the end, didn’t it?’
Staccato chuckled. ‘I guess it did. Although the one thing, and I might know the answer to this, that has been bugging me for a few minutes, is still on my mind. Are you going back... for her?’
Octavia looked back at her dress, which now had a side pocket sheath for her bow. Inside the sheath, she could see a glimmer of the splinter taped on.
‘Yeah. It's about time the Dancer can come home, too.’
Figured that a journal would be in due order... I’ve never done this before, but I felt that I needed to write this all down.
I met Staccato today. It was far from a hostile meeting, though; after twenty long years, all feelings of contempt, if there even were any at this point, were gone. He had just retired from the solo career he formed a little while after our group’s breakup—but he came to apologize and praise me for my professionalism during all of the, uh, “talks” that we had before the final concert. Quite a memory he has based on how much he apologized for, but it's certainly nice seeing him humble himself in front of someone else, let alone me.
He told me the rest of his story of the Dancer that had ended far before mine. I’m starting to think that if I hadn’t been in the group, his memory of the dancer wouldn’t have resurfaced and the band would’ve stayed together forever. But really, didn’t things turn out fine already? I look at what has happened and the effect the whole situation put on us all. Heck, thanks to Gazer, I even became a Maestro! Even Staccato felt proud when he heard that news—he had become one only a decade after the breakup, whereas my title took fifteen. Not that it really matters, although I guess we both still have an ounce of competitiveness in us. Joke's on him, though, since I'm a fair bit more than five years younger than him. Checkmate, Staccy.
Formalities and non-formalities aside, it was a fun time to meet him again.
I think, though, that it’s time to put all of this to rest. Equestria’s premier dress designer and CEO of Fashionista—well, I guess if anyone reads this that'd be obscure—Rarity had bought the land from the previous owner of the music hall's land only a year after I returned to Ponyville, and by some fortunate chance, was also a major music fan (or just extremely generous). With her incredible donation and Mr. Gazer's and Vinyl’s help, the new theatre took little time to be built. I daresay that the moment when all four of us came and opened the theatre to the public... it became the proudest moment of my life. Star even tried to convince me to return to the group, to which I politely declined—they don’t really play anymore, though, but over the last twenty years together, they formed a pretty successful rock group. I hear they even played in the Crystal Empire a few times, at least ever since Princess Sparkle saved them from King Sombra. I barely even remember that—I’m getting too old for this!
Even though Vinyl was such an outgoing personality in contrast to my quiet life in Alto & Allegrezza Memorial Hall, we finally decided to just stick together. We still live together to this day—neither of us found anyone else that could stand us, I guess. No husbands for us.
Octavia laughed.
And so, I kept playing. For the last two decades, I kept trying to bring back the Dancer. I saw Alto a few times, but he was always upset—Allegrezza had never shown up to see him again. I even kept the splinter on my bow during all that time... could it be because I played in front of an audience? It's puzzling that everything worked out fine in Manehattan all of those years ago. Ghosts are a funny thing, I suppose.
But Staccato’s visit did have a lasting effect. He reminded me of the Dancer, and something that I had been meaning to do during the time I’ve spent here in Ponyville. Just one more thing I have to do before I’m done with Cross and Arrow—my cello and bow, who’ve been the biggest constants in my life all this time.
Playing my true coda.
Maestro Octavia
Octavia stared at the journal lying in front of her. Satisfied, she left it on her desk and moved out of her office, and into the auditorium she had grown accustomed to over the last two decades.
This was her coda.
As though they already knew they would play their final tune, Cross and Arrow lay leaning against a wall near the theatre’s stage. Slowly, she picked both up, then promptly sighed. It wasn't going to be an easy goodbye, but it would be worth it.
Octavia moved towards the stage for the last time in her years of music, of beauty, and of wonder that filled her night after night; her mind flashed to the first time she had seen Allegrezza, when she played the cello for the first time, and when she met Vinyl. She let the thoughts stew in her mind for several moments before her bow rose.
She felt their presence—his was the only chance she had to do this. Just as she had done the first night the Dancer had come to her, Octavia closed her eyes, entering a new world devoid of sight, smell and touch. Only sound remained inside her music, just like before.
She played. She felt the cello's vibrations for the first few seconds, but then, only bliss. The music was hers and hers alone, even if only for a little while longer.
Octavia opened her eyes. A familiar stallion formed in front of her for the first time in a few years—etched on his face, yet again, was pain. He looked to Octavia, silently, as though expecting an answer to cure his disappointment. He has not aged, Octavia thought. But he was here, and that was amazing.
Octavia took a quick look at Arrow; the splinter from the last theatre, decayed and soft to the touch, laid on Arrow’s tip with a sticky resin that had been replaced again and again over time. The splinter was, once again, hanging only by a thread—but this time, it meant something different.
Octavia walked over to Alto. He did not disappear.
She plucked the splinter from her bow and placed it down in front of him. Still, he did not disappear. He could only stare back blankly, never blinking.
She took a step back—she knew. Her bow rose for the final time, and a long, soft note was played in a single stroke. The cello and bow were then laid down on the theatre’s stage, and Octavia walked down the side steps and towards the aisle leading out of the theatre. Every step she could hear her heart thump and her legs shake, not wanting to leave the theatre but knowing it had to be done. She did not turn until she was within a few feet of the Alto and Allegrezza Memorial Hall’s double doors. What she saw behind her made her smile, made her feel closure.
Allegrezza had appeared right above the splinter, happy for the first time in many, many years at the sight she saw—a smiling Alto with his hoof extended. Octavia felt their happiness warm the entire theatre, and she shed a single tear—but this was their moment, not hers. She battled any more tears that attempted to come out, turned and stepped out of the theatre. She looked up at the entrance, and looked at the sign she had hung below it: “Closed For Good”. Instead of being upset, though, her happiness remained. Twenty long years for this, she could stomach taking a couple more seconds to close the place up before crying.
As Octavia took the silver key dangling from the sign, trembling all the while, she could not help but allow more tears to flow over the door’s lock—No, she insisted to herself, but to no avail. It took all of her strength to push the key into the lock and fight her longing for the dancer. As she did so, her memories of being obsessed with Allegrezza came to mind—more tears flowed. Before she did anything more, though, she allowed herself a peek at the dancers by only slightly edging the door open—what she saw stopped the tears for good. The door was promptly shut.
As her key turned and the lock shut tight, the theatre was made inaccessible for any new visitors. Not a single pony ever entered or exited from the double doors again, keeping the memories, concerts and good times that were had over the years locked away forever. Two spirits, however, were still inside, dancing together for eternity.
