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43197 236.42 KB 3212
Unfinished Octavia Stories
By LunarLunatikCreated: 2022-06-06 16:26:24
Updated: 2022-06-06 16:30:20
Expiry: Never
Disclaimer: This paste contains unfinished Octavia stories which were sadly not binned by their authors. I decided to combine them in one big file rather than make a new entry for every unfinished story.
>Be Anon
>Be in Equestria
>Been a short while since you found the portal to magical poni land
>You don't remember how long
>Either way, Twilight was kind enough to offer you a room in Ponyville's Library until you can afford a residence of your own
>Albeit, it wasn't as much of a bedroom as it was just a large storage room with a matress in it
>But to be fair, she was kind enough to offer you a place to stay, and you just dropped in with absolutely no notice at all, so you figured you shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth
>Despite the below-average sleeping quarters, you've suprisingly have established some sort of income
>Doing odd jobs for ponies around town, repairing things like leaky roofs and fixtures, has worked out pretty well for you
>Even though the ponies here seemed reluctant to be near you at first, the concept of hands and how versatile they are as really grown on these magical equines
>Especially that mint-colored one
>Just another bright and sunny day in Ponyville, sitting by the library for someone to come by and ask for some assistance
>You feel like a prostitute
>It was a rather slow day today; the only job you've had today was helping Fluttershy get one of her rat friend out of a drainage pipe it fell into
>You bet in can be hard watching after so many animals at once
>You'd lose your goddamn marbles if you-
"Ahem?"
>A female clearing-of-throat stops your train of thought dead in its tracks
>Without thinking, you hop to your feet
"Oh, uh, sorry, how can I help you?"
>In front of you stands a grey pony with a expertly-styled, flowing dark-grey mane, looking uncertainly at you
"I was told that I can find somepony here that could help me?" "Then you came to the right place, ma'am!"
>Her face went from a look of uncertainty to just downright bewildered. She slightly leans to the side to look past you, as if to see if there was another pony behind you. She looks back at you again
"Y-you're... not exactly a 'pony', are you?"
>I guess she hasn't seen me around
>You'd think that a new species of sentient life wandering into Ponyville would make headlines or something
>Guess she doesn't read the paper much
"Last I checked, I am not."
>The confusion on her face subsides, and seems to be coming to terms with the alien creature before her
>You stand there with a goofy smile on her face, waiting for a response
"So... I take you to what I need help with and you fix it?" "Yes indeed." "Alright. Follow me, I guess."
>You two head on down the road to her place
>You walk through town with her, taking the occasional detour through an alley or a backstreet.
>In silence.
>She hasn't said a word since we left the library.
>'Is she always like this, or is she afraid to talk to me?' You wonder
>You try to break the ice
"Oh, where are my manners? I completely forogt to introduce myself."
>She noticeably flinched as you so suddenly broke the silence
>Smooth
"I'm Anonymous. I'm human, as you've probably heard."
>It takes a while for her to respond
>She seems really uncomfortable
"Octavia. Octavia Melody."
>Octavia... That's a nice name
>And strangely fitting
>The rest of the walk is in silence
>You arrive at Octavia's house
>It's a quaint little house, not too large, but it's seemingly well kept.
>She unlocks the door and pushes it open, only to stop and turn to face you
"Look," She says in a stern tone as she looks directly into your eyes "I want to know if I can trust you."
>You stand there, dumbfounded. You barely squeak out words
"T-trust me?" "Yes. I want to know that you won't mess this up."
>You stand there in shock, staring deep into her Amethyst eyes, which sparkled with steely conviction.
>She's dead serious.
>Thoughts race through your mind, one after another
>What does she mean by this?
>why is she so serious?
>What the hell does this mare want me to do?
>You force out some words
"I-I'm not a professional handyman, b-but I'm not a klutz, either."
>she continues her death stare, squinting her eyes ever so slightly
"I'll d-do my best..."
>A brief silence fills the air around you, and then she backs off, and walks into her humble abode
>You stand there and watch as she disappears into her home
>Thoughts are still racing through your mind
>What just happened?
>She appears in the doorway again, realizing you haven't entered yet
"Hello?" she calls out, knocking you out of your racing mind "Oh, uh... sorry."
>You step inside and shut the door behind you.
>The clock strikes 4, and in the thick of the hussle and bustle of the great metropolis of Manehattan, you navigate your way through the thickly packed street of ponies returning to the tenement after a long day's work
>Turning a corner, you spot your destination across the street, the Manehattan concert hall.
>You walk up to the front of the building and walk up to the doormare and prepare to show her your officers badge.
>However, she immediately opens the door.
"I will take it I am expected."
>"Yes, you are. Mr. Glimmer told me to expect a strangle looking creature from the Celestial guard. He will be expecting you in his office."
"And where might that be?"
>"Up the stairs at the right end of the main hallway just inside the door to the fourth level, and then go straight to the double doors at the end of the hall."
>I guess I should explain who I am further.
>I am Anonymous
>Shortly after I arrived in the streets of Canterlot with nothing on me but the clothes on my back and my grandfather's Mauser, I joined the Canterlot guard as officer.
>During my first year, I happen to stumble upon a plot by the treasurer to embezzle money out of the treasury.
>I brought forth the evidence to Celestia in private, and she sent me to arrest him in his home.
>However, he ran out the back door when I came to arrest him.
>It led on to a chase to the concert hall, where he tried to hide, and took a cello player hostage.
>You were forced shoot the stallion in order to stop him from harming the poor mare.
>However, Celestia acknowledged you could do nothing else, and promoted you to be her head security agent for public appearances.
>And the mare you saved was grateful for her rescue, despite her being somewhat shaken; which planted the seed of friendship between the two of you.
>And that same mare is trampling you under her hooves, knocking you to the base of the stairs.
>"sorryanonlateforpractiseeyoulater"
>That is all you can comprehend as a flash of gray whistles past you and the air is knocked out of your chest.
>After a few minutes, you recover from your dazed state.
>You wipe off your uniform and head up to the office, and prepare to discus security details with the manager.
>After 45 minutes, you are exhausted.
>You are normally used to ponies not wanting to give you full access to their property, but spending 25 minutes on the subject was ridiculous.
>Anyways you begin your security check by looking at the grand balcony, where the Princesses will be watching the concert.
>While you search the balcony to make sure it is safe, you see the band doing their final practice before the concert at 8 on the hour, and your "friend".
>You smile, and leave as the balcony is for all intensive purposes safe.
>The next part of the procedure is to do general sweep of the building, which takes about an hour and a half.
>With the way the manager had given you such a fuss earlier, you would expect something to look wrong.
>Despite this hunch, there seems to be nothing out of place.
>With your rounds done, you head up to the main lobby, waiting for the rest of the security detail to arrive.
>Soon, the main force of the team arrives, and the leader comes up to you and salutes you.
>"Sir!" the stallion addresses you as, "Is the building sound?"
"Yes it is. I have done a full sweep and nothing is out of place. Is your team reading to take up their positions?"
>"Yes sir!" and the detail moves to their various posts, two at the front to door, one at the back, two in the balcony, and two to guard the door.
>You then turn to see Octavia walking back up the stair she so carelessly pushed you down.
>Before she turns around the stairs, she quickly winks at you and runs up to her office on the second floor.
>You sigh, and slowly walk after her.
>When you finally reach the second floor, she pokes her head out at you from her door, and then slamming it closed.
>You then walk to up to her door and gently knock on it.
>"Anon! Why are you here you here of all places? Are you stalking me? Or are you just lonely without me?" she says with playful sarcasm.
"Octavia, you know the Princesses are coming tonight. Do you really need to be asking this?"
>"Oh anon.... I would like to believe you, but how can I be sure...... kneel." She says demanding with hints of childishness.
"Fine..."
>Anon reluctantly yields to her request, and knees, where he is then at eye level with her.
>Octavia opens the door with wide grin on her face, which turns to sudden shock.
"You poor dear! It seems I gave you a black eye when a ran you over earlier! Come with me. I have some makeup that with somewhat disguise it."
>You then groan at this remark
>"Anon! It is not like I am playing dress up with you are anything! Even though I think it would wonderful to do so!"
>Patting your head, she pulls you into her office and sit him down in her chair, pulling out some peach colored makeup and applying it to your face.
"No.... it is the fact that no one told be about the black eye earlier. And DON'T EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!"
>She continues to apply it the makeup to your eye.
>"Well anon, I think it would be appropriate for the time you made me your 'pretty little pony'."
"But we had a deal! I would go to the gala with you while you preformed to make your old colt friend jealous, and you would go about your next day however I chose for you to look!"
>"Hah! Please, I know very well the deal we had, and don't think I will forget it soon! And you must remember I was kind enough to let you do 'what you pleased' with me despite the gala being a disaster."
>You roll my eyes.
"Don't remind me."
>She finishes applying the makeup on your sore and puts the it away.
>"Well, it seems that is all I can do. It doesn't completely hide it, but you cannot notice at a distance."
"Thank you. Say, do you want to do something tomorrow. The Princesses are having meetings with the city council about the increasing number of paramilitants, and I know you don't have a performance tomorrow."
>"Sure anon. Where do you want to go?"
"How about you decide."
>"Hum... I must think about it. Anyways, I must be refreshed before I join the rest of the orchestra. If you could please show your way out..."
"Of course Octavia."
>You get up from your seat and walk out of the room, closing the door behind you.
>With nothing to do, you check up with the various guard posts, making sure everything is okay, and doing rounds about the balconies.
>Eventually, the audience for the night starts to arrive to their seats, and the band begins to set up for the performance.
>You had no idea what was going to happen later this night.
>Octavia doesn't much like you.
>You still, however, have to go on a trip with her for 'business' purposes.
>Unfortunately, you two have to share a hotel bed together.
>She is NOT happy about this.
"Grow up kid, we're both professionals. This is not the first time I've had to share a bed."
>She looks at you with shock.
>But she does not argue.
>Most men are intimidated by her cold sophistication.
>Not you. You had to drive the whole way and you're tired.
>You shower and hop into bed, ignoring her.
>Your back is to her, but you feel her crawl into bed.
>Carefully staying on her side.
"Umm...Anon, are you still awake?"
>You grunt.
"May I turn the television on? Is that going to disturb you too much?"
>Yeah, it's okay. Just keep the volume low.
>She watches [adult swim] for about an hour.
>You turn around and look at her, a little surprised.
>She blushes & giggles nervously.
"Sorry. Guilty pleasure of mine."
>Whatever. You go to sleep.
>Morning arrives.
>You slowly regain consciousness.
>The bed is very warm.
>It's Octavia...she's spooning you from behind.
>Quite a change from the icy bitch from yesterday.
>One hoof is draped over your shoulder.
>You feel something strange.
"Octavia...where is your other hoof?"
>She mumbles, still half asleep.
"Between two pillows."
>Awww shit.
"THOSE AREN'T PILLOWS!"
>You both spring out of bed frantically.
>Panting & blushing, both.
"So? Ready to get back on the road?"
>Uncomfortable small talk.
>"Certainly...would you like to use the bathroom first?"
"No, you better go first. I can wait."
>She gallops straight into the bathroom.
>The rest of the trip is a little awkward.
>The last note of the song echoes in the concert all.
>This one sound is alone in the crowd, yet, it is sole ruler in this building, not a whisper is challenging the dominion of the Cellist.
>Eternity ends as silence fills void left by the agony of her symphony...
>A beat.
>You are the first to rise and start the applause.
>Everyone follows suit.
>It's deafening.
>Yet, it is but a drone compared to the riotous beating of your heart.
>You know she can't see you, the spotlight too bright to see the faces in the crowd.
>Yet, you dream she might have glanced at you when you were on your too legs.
>The phantomatic smile she gifts her audiance is beautiful.
>She bows gracefully and give a polite wave before exiting the stage.
>Moments later:
>You waste a little time amongst the high class ponies during the after performance.
>You pay for the overpriced drink and savour it.
>To be honest, it's not very good, but with how much it costs, better make it last...
>You eye the VIP section stealthily, the glimmer of envy is probably clear in your eyes.
>These mares and stallions, there's more paint on their fur and manes than on the Mona Lisa...
>And the way they outright glared at that poor mare who almost tripped with their glasses...
>Disgusting...
>You remember why you hate Canterlot...
>The worst part is seeing her talk with them.
>You know how these snobs are...
>They make sure everyone in the room can see their faces as they chat with Octavia Symphonica de melody...
>Infuriating...
>You sigh and down your glass to extinguish the bile rising in your throat.
>Some things never change...
>You will forever be a face in the crowd.
>This mere red cord will forever be the frontier between her and you...
>You're still thirsty, but stating this desire here would without a doubt lead you to bankruptcy...
>You grab your coat at the exit, thanking the clerk pony.
>He wishes you an excellent evening and hopes to see you again.
>You chuckle, joke with him that he knows quite well we'll meet again and leave.
>To think that these mere words would already thaw a chunk of that ice gripping your soul.
>Seeing the same pony every show at the booth and at the aftershow ended up with him and you becoming friends.
>You take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the cold evening air.
>It smells of fallen leaves, autumn is already upon Canterlot.
>A Stronger gust of wind makes your clothes flap for a second, you shiver.
>The walk to your favourite tavern is short and brings you closer to your friend's place where you'll stay for the night before heading back to Manehattan.
>The old fashioned building radiates warmth and companionship, even from outside.
>The wooden planks under your hooves creak while the many portraits and drawings of famous ponies greet you silently with their stillness.
>The quatuor of knights of the saturday are still at their tables, playing cards.
>A young couple you never saw before is chatting quietly in a corner, a young filly trying her hardest to stay awake as she's leaning on her mother's shoulder.
>You nod a hello to the family when you pass by them on your way to sit at the counter.
>The boss grumbles something inaudible that equals a "happy to see you" as he serves a beer for you.
>It is half emptied when the family pays their tab and leaves.
>You finished your second drink, simply enjoying the traditionnal music played by the jukebox when the bells above the door ring.
>Somepony with a heavy luggage sits next to you.
>Another grumble inquires what the newcomer will be drinking.
>"... I shall have what my neighbour is having, if you please."
>More grumbling.
>You chuckle.
"Old Shrapnel says you don't have to be so polite here, only the Princesses are above other ponies in his house, as long as you behave, of course."
>"My apologies, I admit to rarely have stepped inside such an establishment. Am I too curious if i ask how can you understand what he says?"
"Nah, just a few 'sentences'... The ones he uses the more often... But, if it's your first time here, what brought you around this place so late, Miss?"
>You turn to face the polite lady and your brain freezes.
>In fact you must have looked absolutely ridiculous with your mouth dangling open and your eyes wide, pupils shrunk.
>"Good evening, mister from the first row, middle seat."
"Oc-Oc-Y-you, here? What? I-I mean- Miss Sym- de Melody..."
>"P-please keep a hold of yourself!"
>You down your full glass to wet your suddenly parched vocal chords.
>Only to start coughing uncontrolably.
>The cellist looks completely lost as to what to do.
>She starts tapping on your back softly, probably afraid to hurt you.
>When the fit doesn't end, Shrapnel walks behind you and slap you behind the shoulders so hard your entire frame rattled.
>But you're back in control.
"Thanks Old stallion... I owe you one."
>grumble "Wuss."
"M-my turn to apologize for this..."
>"No need, that kind of things happens, I confess being glad to not be the cause of your untimely demise..."
"You'll need more than this to get rid of this stallion..."
>"..."
>A silence.
"S-so... What brings you here, if I'm not too curious, of course."
>"Oh! right, I just wanted to chat a little... With you."
"Me? Why?"
>"Well, I have played once a month for 4 years now in Canterlot... And you were there every time... I became a little curious, and wanted to express my thanks for your support. An artist can only wish for such a loyal and appreciative audience."
"You deserve every set of ears that listen to your music, you are a master... How on equestria did you find me here anyway?"
>"I noticed you talking to the clerk on a few occasions, I simply had to ask him where I might find you."
>Another silence.
>"Goodness, is it already this late?"
"Yeah... Your performance are extremely time consuming."
>"I have to tkae my leave... Tell me do you live in Canterlot per chance?"
"Nah, i'm a Manehattanite."
>"Really? A most interesting coincidence. Would you like to resume this discussion on another evening?"
"It would be an honour!"
>"Then... Here," she produces a small business card simili "it is the address of an excellent establishment on BroadHooves, show it at the entrance to be granted access. How about next saturday?"
"Uh... just like that?"
>"Why most certainly, I do wish to meet one of my biggest fan. Does that day doesn't suit you?"
"No! No! it's... perfect."
>"I apreciate greatly. See you next saturday... mister?"
"Anonymous."
>"Excellent! Have an excellent evening!"
>And with that she left, paying for her drink, and yours.
"Shrapnel... Did I ever told you about my passion for classical music?"
>grumble
"She's the reason I like classical music..."
>grumble
"What do you mean I look like a virgin on his first date?!"
>What happens next?
I don't know... I'm afraid of what's to come... But if I don't try... I'll have only regrets. If I do take this chance, however... I'll know I tried. And who knows? I must have been pretty lucky that night, Maybe Lady Luck will watch over me next saturday as well?
--- STORY 5 --- "Heat is a horrible, horrible thing..."
>She states, neck deep in the bathtub, filled with cold water.
>You sit next to her peeling an apple for her as she tries to vainquish the fire between her legs.
"I will be honest with you, milady, it is most entertaining from my point of view."
>"Anon, I sincerely despise you when you're like this... To think Vinyl is outside, probably doing unspeakable things with complete strangers... It could even be a minautaur or a diamond dog! Maybe both!"
"Come now, Miss Scratch might be an extrovert, but even she has standards... From what she told me this monday, she is very happy with the pony she hangs with lately..."
>"I wonder what has changed... She would always change boyfriend avery month..."
"From what I think I heard, said pony might be hermaphrodite."
>"...After all these years spent sharing a house with her, she keeps surprising me..."
"Say aah."
>You feed her a piece of fruit.
>"I thank you for staying at my side, Anonymous."
"I promised mister your father I would be of indefectible loyalty. You'll need more than hormones to get rid of your humble servant, aah."
>"Please, stop belitting me. I am an adult, I built my own fame and my own wealth... Another slice, please."
"Here comes the choo-choo-train."
>"I detest you..."
"I never will."
>"Would you be so kind as to fetch me some water, with ice?"
"One moment..."
>In the kitchen you grab the largest caraffe, fills it with ice cubes and cover them with water.
"I have returned, a glass?"
>"I won't need it. Could you empty it on me?"
"I beg your pardon?"
>"It's way too hot, even right now. Pour the water and the ice on... You know where..."
"... and then you complain about Miss Scratch's fetishes..."
>"Anon. Do it."
>The desperate mare raises her hips above the surface of the water.
>You hesitate...
>You rise and walk to stand in front of the pink treasure.
>"W-what are you doing? Where are you going?!"
"ahem Wouldn't it be more efficient if I poured it directly... There?"
>"You don't have to..."
"I have to look... To aim. No other objectives..."
>"As if I could believe such a lie."
"No water for the cellist."
>"Fine!'
"Fine."
>...
>"Not fine at all..."
"Milady must remember that her humble servant always knows best."
>"Anonymous, I might do something absolutely unladylike and positively dangerous for your health and your work attire, cool down my nethers. This is an order."
"Who tell you I don't want to see you panting over me?"
>"D-don't... Tease me..."
>drip
>"Eep!"
"Lost in the throes of desire."
>drip
>"Hh!"
"Unable to resist the primal urges..."
>drip
>"Hng!"
"Rocking your hips against mine."
>drip
>"Sss!"
"Your body not yours anymore."
>drip
>"M-mercy!"
"Your mind retching at the idea of not being in control..."
>drip
>"Haa!"
"You would be nothing more than my plaything..."
>drip
>"Stop!"
"Who knows what kind of abominable hybrid would grow from such unholy union?"
>flush
>"HAAAAaaahh!"
"I am very curious to know... Mistress..."
>"You are a monster..."
"A monster that will never harm you, will forever care for you and what you love."
>"C-carry me to my bed... I am about to faint..."
>You carefully extirp her from the bathtub and wrap the fatigued pony in towels before carrying her to her bed.
"Rest, Octavia."
>The stage is lit before you by the stark, vivid light of an old-fashioned limelight
>You enjoy another sip of the fine whiskey in front of you, idly listening to the conversation of the ponies around you
>You've been breaking into the Canterlot musical scene lately, your skills with the guitar overshadowing your bizarre appearance compared to the brightly coloured equines
>And, somehow, here you are; accepted into one of the more prestigious bars in canterlot, the reference given by the owner of a small dive you've been performing at for the last few months.
>Not exactly glamourous work, but it pays enough.
>Lost in your recollections on your situation, you're slightly taken aback by the stage suddenly being occupied by a solitary grey mare.
>It's strange, really; such a modestly coloured pony existing playing in a world of bright pinks and greens.
>You're sure it's the drink finally making its way into your head, but you're completely drawn by the lonely presence before you.
>Walking with a sense of complete authority over her surroundings, head held high, she brings with her a stool and large, beautifully crafted cello.
>You've never exactly been one for classical, but it's clear to see the instrument is of exquisite quality.
>After seeing her set up, delicately tuning the cello with deft hooves, it's clear she's more than qualified to bear it.
>You lean towards the stage, perched on the edge of your seat, as the bar and restaurant simultaneously quiet in expectation of the performance.
>Her name was known to you, of course; Octavia Melody, one of the finest musicians Canterlot had ever seen.
>That's what the placards said, at least.
>The next few minutes proved their description of her completely and hopelessly inadequate.
>She played like nothing you've ever heard, like a great fire had been lit in her hooves, and had been captured in the form of perfect, beautiful music.
>Her bow danced across the strings, as effortlessly as walking and breathing, granting life in flawless union with her hoof on the neck.
>In a tiny moment of distraction, you allowed yourself to wonder how the fuck her lump of a cartoon hoof was so dextrous on the strings.
>You quickly push away the thought; her music is so close to magic given sound, it only makes sense to believe her hooves themseves are imbued with magic themselves.
>The music, though, is marred organically with something...
>Something you can almost barely pick up.
>Sadness.
>Her eyes are placid and downcast throughout her performance, and she looks almost tranported into her own world.
>You've been excaping your life through music long enough to know the signs;
>Again, maybe it's the drink, but you're sure that she's exactly as lonely on that stage as she looks.
>The playing continues, at times triumphant and glorious, at others gentle and melodic.
>But throughout, the undercurrent of melancholy remains.
>By the end of the playing, as she bows and steadily makes her way offstage to the thunderous roar of applause, you realize one thing.
>There's just about damned near nothing you want more than to get to know this pony.
>I'm sorry, Octavia, but it's irreversible. There's not much we can do other than take steps to slow down the process.
>With good care, you'll still be able to retain your hearing for another 10 years. Maybe longer.
>I'm sorry. Would you like to have a moment to yourself?
>Walking home after the ... let's just call it a 'consultation' ... with the doctor was hard.
>All the things one takes for granted - birds, street traffic, people saying 'Hello' or 'How are you?'
>Gone in a decade?
>Three little bones.
>Six, really. Three per ear.
>Six bones to take all the sounds from outside your head and carry them inside.
>Six bones to turn those vibrations into beauty.
>Damn.
>Damn damn damn blast and damn again.
>Of course, when one is feeling overwhelmed, one takes one's refuge in music.
>... the irony of this behavior is not to be taken lightly.
>Perhaps it's better taken in both hooves and bashed against the floor while screaming.
>Pity one doesn't know any good profanities in Pferdread.
>Now there is a language for cursing.
>Nonetheless, one returns to the rooms.
>Carefully laid on its side lies the old friend.
>Settle oneself in one's chair.
>Adjust the stand.
>Move the blank staff paper to the front.
>Make sure one's pencil is sharp.
>Tuning.
>Good thing a device exists to hear on one's behalf.
>Won't have to worry about that failing.
>In tune?
>Run a few scales. Legato.
>Feel the music flow from the instrument through one's body.
>Smile. A little.
>(One has a reputation for being taciturn, but one takes joy in joyful things.)
>Ten years.
>One hundred and thirty moons.
>One hundred and thirty moons to learn to feel what one may no longer hear.
>One hundred and thirty moons to place dots and lines to paper.
>In this field, one makes one's immortality through two means:
>Performing.
>If one can feel the notes, one need not hear them.
>Composing.
>If one can feel the notes, one can direct others to play them.
>Best get to work.
>You are Anon. It's been a few weeks since somehow, some way, you found yourself here in equestria. Not that you're complaining...
>You stand on the edge of your balcony. Thankfully the princesses were nice enough to get you a nice little place in Canterlot, with a nice view overlooking a nearby amphitheater.
>The music is really good, and you always get the chance to catch your favorite musical pony.
>Some people really liked the DJ pony that played sometime, but you preferred a more classical taste in music.
>You could always tell when she was tuning up, and you were sure that she would be playing soon. You moved close to the balcony and look down at the amphitheater, seeing the beautiful gray pony on her cello.
>You always enjoyed her music.It was always so mellow so beautiful. You had to admit it was almost as beautiful as the mare making it.
>You move away from the balcony as she began to play, moving to look through your mail.
>The mailmare was pretty good, although sometimes you found a partially eaten muffin in the mailbox rather than mail, but that was rare.
>You flipped through the different pieces of mail.
Junk... junk... junk... something from that one mare... what's her name... Dash...
>You tilt your head a bit as you spot a intricately made letter.
Hmmm... what's this?
>You open the letter and give a soft smile.
>"Dear Mr Anon. I would like to invite you to a free performance."
>You are kinda taken aback. You weren't expecting to receive a letter from her.
>"It'll be held this weekend, at the location written below."
>You gulp a bit, looking at the address. You've been through enough social situations to actually know the address. You know that it's Octavia's personal address.
>You know it'll take a few days for it to happens, so you get a few thing for the show.
>After a few days, you're ready for the show. You figure that Octavia would have invited a few people, so you try to get there reasonably early...
>You walk up to the door and knocking a bit, looking around and wondering if the other ponies would get there soon.
>As the door opens, you spot the mare behind it.
>"Oh... hello Mr Anon. I'm glad you could make it... since you seem to rather enjoy watching my shows from your balcony."
>You give a light blush, looking at her.
Sorry about that... I'd go see them in person, but I'm not much of a theater person."
>The mare gives a soft nod as she helped you inside. Inside it was rather elegantly designed, with a big space with a beautiful looking cello.
"It's very nice in here... so... when will the other guests arrive?"
>The mare looked at you curiously, closing the door behind you,"Other guests... I'm afraid that you're the only one."
>You tilt your head some as you look at her, not sure what to say. Being the only guest is welcome, since you're not very good at most crowded things.
Oh... well... this is an honor.
>She blushes a bit as she moves over to the cello, looking at you with a soft smile.
>"Well... I always see you watching my shows... so... I figured you might enjoy a private show."
>You blush a bit as well as you sit in front of the small stage, watching her.
W-wow... really, just for me? I... I don't know what to say.
>She smiles as she sits behind the cello. The moment that bow draws across the strings, you swear you've died and gone to heaven.
>Each note rang out throughout the home, echoing just enough to make it sound like she was playing with more than one.
>As the first song finished, you were in awe, your eyes just watching the mare as she looked at you, seeing the gentlest of smiles as she moved over to you.
>"So... how was that?" You hear her ask as she moved over to you.
Oh... it was... amazing... like nothing I've ever heard before. Why don't you ever play like that in the amphitheater?
>You notice the blush on her cheeks as she moved over to you,"Well... I just... don't have a good... reason to play like that."
I'm Anon and even though I may not be a talented as Ryu but that isn't going to stop me from keeping this thread going.
>You stare blankly at her for a moment.
"What do you mean?"
>"Well, you know," She says, her face going lightish pink, "No one... No one in my home appreciates that kind of music."
>You both stay in place for a couple of moments before you begin to speak.
"What about other ponies? Beside your roomate." you ask her
>Her face begins to change from a light pink to a bright red.
>"I'm... I'm... I'm a l-little shy about... about criticism." she stutters voice wavering.
"Unlike your roomate." You jokingly add.
>"Yes... Yes I-Indeed." She says waveringly.
>Another break of silence enters the room, it's still you and her sitting alone in the same building.
>"I'm... I'm just jealous of you and Vinyl." she say timidly.
"What do you mean?" you question her.
>"Well," Octavia says As she squeezes close to you. "You don't really... You don't really mind criticism, or... or even notice it."
>silence reins once again.
"still it was nice to hear you play." You compliment her.
>Her face quickly turns to a deep red as if all the blood in her body has flooded to her head.
>You are Anon waking home from a long night of work and drinking.
>You are the head of conflict in Canterlot.
>When you first came here the princesses gave you this job as a way to meet all types of ponies and hopefully make new friends.
>It's a shame you hate it so much, at first you though you'd be helping ponies.
>Instead you spend most of the day listening to ponies bicker at one another until they either solve it themselves or you just pick a side that you think is right.
>It's a good job and it does pay fairly well but you've always wanted to help in a bigger way.
>You drink to deal with the fact that your the only known human in Equestria and that you hate your job.
>As you continue to walk down the street you notice that this city isn't all bad. You can see the lights at night and the busy ponies enjoying their Friday night out with friends and family.
>Then you hear something.
>A cello.
>The music dances around you and envelopes like a wild fire.
>You lose all sense of reality and immediately taken by your drunken fantasy.
>You are home. Real home on Earth, surround by the things you missed since you came here.
>Then all too quickly reality comes back with a cold gust of winds stinging you face like knifes.
>You are back and the music has stopped along with the feelings you just had.
>As you begin to look around you see that it's getting late and begin to rush home.
>Hopefully that unknown pony will be back tomorrow with more beauty than before.
>Work was just about the same as any other day.
>Two ponies came in arguing if a tree should be cut down or not. A fucking tree. That's what you have to deal with. Either way you took care of it like the professional that you are and set course to home.
>well the bar first then home so you set sale!
>You leave a bit early this time in hopes to catch the pony that plays that beautiful cello.
>You arrive at the same street and it seems to be a bit more crowded than usual.
>However, you can hear that beautiful sound as before and along with it that feeling from before.
>You don't let it get to you this time.
>You need to find the source of the music...but...where?
>The street was busier than yesterday and that will make it nearly impossible to find it.
>Found it.
>There at the end of the street you see a grey pony with a pink bowtie and a purple music note as a cutie mark.
>her beautiful blackish main flows with the hard winds of winter.
>You begin to approach her, thinking of what to say when you get there.
Hi I'm Anonymous but you can call me Anon all my friends call me that well back at Earth they did but no here I don't have many friends maybe we can be friends would you like that if we were friends I like your music its really nice maybe you can play for me sometime
>Little too much? Nah.
>As you are now only a few steps away from here you notice something by her side.
>It's a small beat up top hat that has a tips sign on it.
>Tips? I guess she is a street performer in her free time.
>You are not right next to her,she hasn't even noticed you yet.
>You see this is a good a time as any to give her a little tip.
>As you drop a small pouch of bits in the had she turns to you.
>"Thank you sir."
Oh it's the least I can do for such a wonderful player such as yourself.
>She blushes a little from your complaint.
>Thank you, its always nice to hear a complaint ever now and again.
Oh don't be so modest miss...uhh.
>"Octavia."
Nice to meet you Octavia, I'm Anon.
>The two of you spend the next hour or so talking.
>You share with her stories of the silly problems you have to deal with at work and the ponies that came with them.
>She tells you about the ponies she meets while playing her cello and a little bit about her childhood.
>"Oh my look at that, the moon is so high up it must be late."
Yeah, maybe we should it a night. it's been a pleasure to meet you Octavia and I hope I can see you tomorrow as well.
>"I'd like that very much Anonymous."
>The two of you split ways and you head home.
>the next day Octavia was the only thing on your mind.
>Her music, her cute little face, her hair, even her bowtie.
>She was the only thing you could think of and couldn't wait to see her again.
>Work dragged on as it usually does and when it came quitting time you were the first one out if that building.
>You forgot want it was like to have a friend and someone to talk to.
>As you head towards the street you think I'd be nice to invite her to the bar for a few drinks.
>Everyday it gets colder from winter, pretty soon the snow would come in.
>As you approach the spot, sure enough, there she is playing the cello.
>The sweet sweet music has you gravitate towards her wanting more.
>"Oh hello there Anonymous. How was work?"
Same as always. Hey would you like to come to a bar with me? We can talk there if you'd like.
>"That sounds lovely. I'm not much of a drinker but am anything to get out of this cold."
>Then it's settled. The two of you pack up Octavia's things and you head out to the bar.
>As you enter the smell of alcohol surrounds the two of you inviting you in.
>The two of you head to the counter to order drinks and continue the earlier conversation.
>As you hold the drink in you had you thank whatever pony that created this stuff.
>The two of you spend the rest of the night taking and drinking until the bar closed for the night.
>The two of you head out of the bar and are immediately greeted by the cold.
>You notice that Octavia is shivering from this chilly night.
Here have my my jacket, you seem to need it more than I do.
>Without giving her time to reject the offer you made.
>"T-thank you Anonymous, t-t-t-that's very kind of you." she says still shivering from the cold.
It's nothing i'm glad I can help. Can I walk you home?
>"Oh now's not the best of times for that maybe another time."
>And with that you both exchange goodbyes and head you separate ways.
>You finally have a friend and your starting to feel something you haven't felt in a long time.
>However, something just isn't right about all of this.
>Why didn't she let you walk her home? Dose he not like your company? What if she doesn't know how to say that she doesn't like you?
>It's best not to let your imagination get the best of you, so you push those worrisome thoughts in the back of your head an continue on.
>It's been a few days and your getting along really well with Octavia.
>The two of you see each other everyday.
>This becomes a part of you everyday life.
>The two of you meet at the same spot at the same time and have nice conversations you about work and she about the past and interesting things she saw that day or the strange ponies she meets as she plays her Cello.
>all is right with the world until one day.
>The day is about the same ans any other with Octavia.
>however, she seems distracted and bothered by something.
Hey Octavia, what's up with you? Is everything alright?
>"No. I'm sorry Anonymous but something has been on my mind for the past few days."
You can tell me whats wrong. I'm the royal problem solver so I should be able-
>Octavia cuts you off with a tone a little louder than normal and you can see tears begin to form in her eyes.
>"Why do you pity me Anonymous? Why do you treat me so well? Why did you give me all those bits?"
Octavia what do you mean? The story is going to get a little dark I hope you don't mind.
>"Anonymous you gave me 200 bits. That's more than iv'e ever gotten since I started this.
I have a lot of extra money and I really enjoyed your music that I thought it would be nice.
>"Well I don't need your charity." She yells as she throws the bag of bits at you, aimed right at your face.
>You manage to move out of the way at the last second.
What's gotten into you? I was only trying to be nice. I didn't even know how much was in there. Besides, I would give you more now that I know you better. Octavia i'm sorry you feel that way and I never meant to hurt you.
>"Stop feeling sorry for me!" Octavia is not on all four breathing heavily as she continues to yell. "They all treat me like i'm sort of nobody and I thought you were different when I met you, but your just like them. You pity me and think your better than me. Well your not i'm the better one and I don't need ponies like you felling sorry for me."
Octavia...
>"leave me alone." With those last words the only real friend you've ever had turn and runs away from you.
>What just happened?
>She seemed to be doing just fine then out of nowhere she snaps.
>You have no idea where she ran off to and begin to search for her.
Octavia! Octavia! Please come out i'm sorry!
>You shout and plead to the winter winds for what seems like hours, but there is no Octavia to be found.
>Then when your about ready to call it a night you see something.
>Could it be? it is!
>Your jacket that you put on Octavia before she ran off.
>You rush to it not even letting the snow slow you down one bit.
>There right before you you see it.
>Just a jacket that is Octavialess.
>You couldn't hide the disappointment on your face if you tried.
>As you pick up the soaking jacket off the cold winter snow you can already feel the sadness of losing your only friend in all of Equestria overcome you.
Octavia where did you go?
>you whisper to yourself as you turn around and head home.
>The next few days go by and still no Octavia.
>You begin to fear for the worst.
>Every night you go to the spot the two of you first met and wait.
>You wait and pray to Celestia that she will come back and forgive you.
>Its been a week now and you begin to think she will never com back.
>"Mr. Anonymous your next appointment is here."
Okay i'm ready for them.
>As the door begins to open a strange feeling fills your body.
>You look up at the door and see a familiar silhouette.
>Could it be? It cant be.
>It is.
Octavia.
>"Hello Mr. Anonymous i'm here because I have a problem that I need you to solve."
Octavia i'm so-
>Just before you are able to get another work out she cuts you off.
>She seems to do that a lot the past few times you've spoken to her.
>"Please allow me to finish before you interrupt."
>She gives you a blank look that's not cold but not happy.
>"I have a problem with a certain somepony and I want him to apologize."
I feel that he should
>"I want him to treat me with respect and dignity."
I know he wouldn't have it any other way.
>"Lastly, I want to spend the weekend with him."
Ummm...I don't know about that last one Octavia.
>"Anonymous you don't understand he really hurt me."
And i'm sure he is sorry. Okay, Okay I think he can manage that.
>"It looks like you really are good at your job. Can you make sure he meets me at the usual spot?"
I think he has a better place in mind.
>As work comes to an end you get ready to meet with Octavia.
>You feel excitement and relief now that you're going to finally see Octavia again.
>Time for your surprise.
>But first a little stop.
>Octavia plays here Cello with more feeling that she ever has.
>So much so that she even manages to surprise herself.
>A crowed starts to form around this musical talent and her tip jar hasn't seen this much money since Anon made his...donation..
>The crowds cheers grow greater in numbers and louder with each song that passes.
>The pressure was on but this didn't affect Octavia's focused posture and tone.
>She played with the soul and heart of a young filly and felt a sense of fulfillment that she hasn't felt in years.
>She finally had something to play for. Someone to play for.
>As the crowd dies down so does Octavia's strength.
>As better a time as any here comes Anonymous.
>However, he hasn't come walking his usual path.
>No. This time he emerges from a carriage right in front of you.
Are you ready to go?
>"I just need to get my things packed and we can get going. Anonymous you really didn't have to go through all this trouble on my account."
Oh, I know. I did it because I wanted to. If it's for you I don't mind.
>You extend your arm to her and help her into the carriage.
>You had a night planned for her and there was no time to waste.
Ready for the best night of your life?
>"Whenever you are." She says as she lays her body agents yours, resting her head on your shoulder.
>the carriage starts to move and thus the night begins.
>Now is the time.
>you take a small velvet box out of your pocket.
Octavia, I wanted to save this after the dinner but I think now's the best time.
>you place the box on her nose and give her a big shit eating grin.
Now waaaaai-ouch!
>Octavia gives you a "small" punch on your arm.
>"Cute." She says as she picks the box off her nose.
>she opens it up and her expression starts to change.
>A white lotus charm is revealed.
>"Anonymous...anonymous...it's...it's..."
Cute?
>"Yes" Octavia jumps on you and gives you small peak on the lips.
>"Thank you Anonymous. This is beautiful."
Anything for you Tavi. Is it okay if I call you that?
>"Of course Anonymous I love that name.'
Please call me Anon.
>"Where here, sir."
Thank you Storm Cloud.
>the two of you head out into the restaurant and are seated.
>You notice Octavia is already wearing her louts pin.
>If all goes according to plan tonight is going to be a good night
>Dinner went off without a hitch.
>The two of you shared stories and caught up on the past few days.
>As the two of you exit the restaurant and wait for the carriage to arrive Octavia scoots to your side.
What is it Tavi?
>"N-nothing I'm just cold is all."
>The carriage pulls up to you and you help Octavia inside.
>ladys first.
>As you enter you notice a bit of snow start to fall.
>The carriage driver looks at you and says, "We'd better get a move on if don't wanna get snowed on. I hear there is a chance a blizzard will hit Canterlot and I don't wanna be dragging you two home through that."
>Looks like your date will be cut short.
>"Shall we head to your place?"
Yeah I guess nows a good a time as any.
>You give your address to the driver and he is off in a dash across town.
>He must really want to get home in case there is a blizzard.
>This means you'll get even less time with Tavi.
>You feel as if the night might go to waste and could even be ruined.
>I mean what could the two of you possibly do in your apartment at night alone?
>Octavia notices the disappointment on your face and lays on your side.
>"What's wrong Anon, aren't you having fun? I'm having a wonderful time thanks to you and I though you'd feel the same."
Well I am its just his night had to be cut short and I wanted to give special. Now it's ruined.
>"Tonight isn't ruined Anon, if anything it has been my best night out in a long time."
I'm glad I could do that for you but what is there to do in an apartment with just the two of us?
>"I can think of a few things."
>The carriage comes to a halt and the drive notifies you that you're at your apartment.
>The two of you walk out of the carriage and he take off as quickly as he arrived.
>You turn to your building and prey tonight will be one to remember.
>The two of you walk in and it's almost scary how warm and welcoming you house feels.
>Your used to this place just being a place to sleep and eat.
>But now.
>It feels like someones home, as if it wasn't yours.
>"This place is absolutely beautiful Anonymous. It's so simple yet give off a sophisticated vibe."
Thanks. I never really though if it like that.
>Octavia sits on your sofa and pats the spot next her.
>You take it as an invitation and take a seat.
So what do you wan-ah!
>Octavia gives you no time to talk of react as she jumps on top of you.
>She presses her lips onto yours and the two of you being to kiss.
>You've never felt a sensation like this before and your not sure you really know what to do.
>Luckily your instincts kick in and you take charge.
>You twirl Octavia over so your the one on top now and continue to kiss.
>She sticks her tongue into you mouth and you return the favor.
>Soon your tongues are dancing with one another, perfectly in sync.
>She begins to unbutton your shit and you take her little bowtie off and place it on the ground.
>"Anon I want it."
>Oh and your going to give it to her.
>As she undoes your pants you begin to play with her nether regions.
>Her soft moans sending vibrations through you as the two of you kiss.
>Octavia is successful in unleashing Anon Jr. And sets him at full attention.
>You've never seen him so focused before.
>"Please Anon now. Give it to me now."
O-okay
>The two of you made sweet sweet love that night and rest in each others arms until morning.
>Be Anon.
>Heading home from a long day of work and grocery shopping.
>You're almost home.
>The thought of seeing your special somepony Octavia when you get home is almost enough to get you to jog the rest of the way there.
>Almost.
>Today wasn't so bad, it's never a bad day when your job is to bring smiles to everyone in need of one.
>You remember when you first arrived in Equestria, how the princesses too you in and gave you a job doing something you loved doing.
>Back home if you wanted to make a career solving problems and bring smiles to people you only had to options.
>Therapist or clown.
>Those to options didn't exactly appeal to you so you consider yourself lucky to be able to do it here.
>No to mention this job is how you met Octavia in the first place.
>You can still remember it as if it was yesterday.
>A cute grey pony down in the dumps because she couldn't find a job in an orchestra.
>After hearing her play you knew the princesses had to hear it and invited her over to play for them.
>This is how it all began, a simple song and the princesses were hooked on the Octavia train.
>They offed her a job to play in there personal orchestra. That meant the best gigs along with the best pay
>You've never seen a pony, or any living thing, smile that wide before and she deserved it too.
>That moment is when your love for her first began.
>Ever since then the two of you saw a lot of each other and one say you finally had the courage to ask her out.
>Her excitement couldn't be contained in her approval to the idea of a date.
>Then there is was again, that beautiful smile.
>You don't know how it could be so many things at once and still just be a smile.
>Playful yet elegant but not too elegant that you couldn't tell that she was happy and pleased.
>Your pleasant memories have to come to an end as you finally reach you're house.
"Hey honey, I'm home!"
>"Anonymous, you're finally back."
>There it was that smile, the smile that warms your heart.
>"What took you so long to get home? It only takes about twenty minutes if there are a lot of other ponies out and about."
"I went shopping for some groceries and might have got sidetracked on the way home. Sorry"
>"Oh it's no problem really, I'm just glad you came home to me and not some other mare."
"Now why would I do that? You're the only mare I ever want to come home to."
>Octavia helps you with the bags and the two of you begin to store the newly purchased goods.
>"Well I mean you're a handsome man and that new young cashier at the store seems to think the same thing. It would be a shame if you acted on her feelings, even if she is prettier then I am. But I have nothing to worry about, right Anon? "
"Right! I never even noticed she noticed me and your far more beautiful then her."
>"So you admit that she is pretty? "
>"So now you're looking at other mares?"
>Octavia says as she gives you a cold look.
>Her eyes are so deep and innocent but boy can they piercing when they need to be.
"N-no, not at all. You're the only one for me. In fact, tomorrow I'll tell that little mare I have no interest In her and she should find someone who doesn't already have the best marefriend in the world."
>"Well that sounds lovely dear"
>The two of you finished storing for the winter and head to bed.
>Octavia must have been extremely pleased with your little speech because you've never seen her sway her body so much as she told you to, "come to bed."
>The two of you made love that night and she seemed more into it then usually.
>better make sure you make her extra happy tomorrow.
>Another day another smile.
>Of course, only one of those smiles matters to you however and you are gunna get it soon enough.
>As you wait at the check out line in the store, you begin to wonder how you will break the news to the poor girl.
>Rejecting someone is no easy task nor is getting rejected yourself.
>You hate to take smiles away from others but you don't want this small misunderstanding to turn into something that could upset Octavia.
>It won't be easy but it has to be done.
>"Hellooo?"
>hu? You dingle you were daydreaming right in front of her!
"Oh sorry. How much was it again?"
>"I haven't even checked you out sir"
"W-w-why would you check me out?! I'm just here to buy these cupcakes for my marefriend! I have a marefriend you know?!"
>Well that's one way to break it to her...
>"I meant as in charge you..."
>The store pony says as she eyes you
>"But now that I look, are you sure there isn't anything else you'd be interested in?"
>She says giving you a wink.
>"Awh come in lighten up! I know you have a marefriend silly and you two are adorable together. I was just trying to lighten up the mood."
>Thank celestia
"Sorry it's just, Octavia can be a bit of a jealous type and I want to reassure her."
>"I understand. I don't see why she would get jelious but it's sweet you're willing to go through with the trouble for her. So will that be all?"
"Yes, thank you."
>You say as you had her the money.
>That could have gone...smoother but what's done is done.
>Now to head home to give Octavia her special gift.
>She just loves cupcakes but hardly eats them because, "they go right to my hips." Which is kinda true but that is far from a bad thing in your eyes.
>And so your journey home begins.
>As you walk home your mind begins to wonder as it tends to on long walks.
>You think back to all the times you and Octavia spent together.
>All of then good, mostly.
>Every couple has fights and those who say they don't are lieing.
>You remember when she got jelious because a waitress left her number on your bill right in front of her.
>Octavia wanted to give her a piece of her mind but you didn't want to make a scene.
>Now that you think of it, maybe you weren't the first one she gave her number away too.
>You both have been to that restaurant three times since then and haven't seen her.
>Well you'll just have to ask about that the next time you're over now won't you?
>Time for the daydreams to end as you approach the front door.
>As you step through the threshold your excitement begins to show.
"Hey Tavi I have a surprise for you."
>She was never really too found of that Nick name but you loved it.
>"Oh Anonymous, just the pony I was thinking of. Could you come in here for a second? I have some thing I want to show you."
>First off you were far from a pony but that gets waved aside because something seems...different.
>Her voice, the tone has changed.
>From elegant and clam, to...
>It's hard for you to describe almost.
>Not angry but certainly not her usual self.
>You step into the room with a bit a causation.
>You aren't exactly sure what to expect.
>Hopefully whatever it is won't ruin the night.
>There she is.
>Sitting in front of the table.
>With?
>A small piece of paper?
>"Anon do you know what this is? It's the receipt from the other day."
>Well that explains it.
>She continues.
>"I found it so funny that you were late and coincidentally you ran into that mare from the store."
"Okay? She works there. How is that funny agian?"
>"It's funny because you said you were late because you took a long walk but according to the time on the receipt and the time you got home it only took you five minutes. I find it odd that you usually take you twenty minutes but for some reason it took you thirty. Where did those extra five minutes go Anon?"
>Her face gives off a, I caught you now, vibe.
>you think to yourself.
>Yes it did take you longer to get home that day but not as long as any other day that you go shopping.
>Shopping...
>You were shopping! That's where the extra five minutes whe-why does Octavia have knife on the table?
"Uuuuh?"
>"Oh,what this? It's just my cutting knife. The handle felt a little loose so I decided to tighten it while you stand there drifting Into space again. It's almost dinner time and I wouldn't want the knife to be so loose it falls out of my hoof and happens to hit a tall and handsome someone now would I?"
"No I guess not. It just caught me off guard is all."
>"Why do you have something to hide?" She says almost immediately.
"So anyway, I know where the extra time went. Did you take into account the shopping?"
>"You know as a matter of fact I didn't. Oh silly me, how could I forget to take that into consideration. " she says swinging the knife around along with her gestures.
>"I'm sorry Anonymous dear, you know how I get. I just love you so much and was worried is all."
>You forgive her and the two of you make dinner together.
>It ended up being a good night.
>However, it won't be compete without.
>"Cupcakes? Anon you shouldn't have...I shouldn't... You know how they go straight to my thighs."
>Oh you knew.
>"Maybe just one."
>But it was you who had just one since she ate the rest.
>It doesn't matter.
>As long as she is happy your happy.
>The two of you slept like a dragon on a crystal floor that night.
>The next few days kinda just flew by.
>It's been a week and after work you had to go grocery shopping agian.
>It's already been a week since that incident were Octavia lost her cool but it was understandable.
>She can be a little over protective at times.
>You walk along the store and grab what you need.
>Once in line you realize something.
>Where is the mare from before?
>She wasn't in her normal spot, now a much older mare is occupying it.
>You ask the new mare what happened to the old one.
>"Oh you mean Cherry? You didn't hear?! She got arrested. A few days ago the store got robbed but there was no one in the store to witness it. Then a few day later the manager goes to Cherry's hose to see why she didn't show up and she was passed out on her couch with a stack of money and a whole lot of other stolen goods. There was still a large chunk of money missing and of course when they asked her she just said it wasn't her and she didn't do it."
>I guess she wasn't as sweet as you once thought.
>Strange she never seemed like the type of person who would do that and she never even worked the night shift to your knowledge.
>You thank the nice mare and head home.
>Octavia will certainly want to hear this, she loves a good gossip story.
>When you get home Octavia is already getting dinner prepared.
"Hey Tavi you'll never guess what happened."
>The two of you ate dinner all while talking about your days and the story you were told.
>"Well I'm glad they locked her away, she deserved is after doing something like that."
"But I mean wow I never would think someone would do something like that. Expecaly her, she didn't seem like the type."
>"Oh, and you knew her type? Sometimes people can surprise you Anonymous. "
"I guess so..."
>"Anyways at least she can't stare at my stallion anymore, leaves more time for me to do it."
>Octavia beings to stare at you with lustful eyes.
>It makes you feel...uncomfortable to say the least.
>You stand and start cleaning up your mess before you make another mess you don't want to clean up.
>The two of you tidy up and head to bed.
>Octavia is noticeably more affectionate tonight then usually ones.
>This new side is welcomed in open arms however and the two of you drift of into sleep together.
>You head into your office, Octavia's behavior still fresh on your mind.
>As you check your desk you notice something.
>It's a letter with a Royal seal on it.
>You open the letter and it reads, "Dear Mr. Anonymous, The princesses would like to speak to you personally about recent events and your involvement in them. Do not worry as you are not in any sort of trouble. We understand that you may have questions but they will all be answered in the meeting today. Attendance is mandatory and failure to attend the meeting will result in your termination as royal problem solver and possibly jail time. Thank you and we look forward to seeing you. Signed Mr. Pebbles"
>Well this is certainly...unusual.
>You have done nothing wrong and don't remember being involved in any illegal activities.
>You pack your things and begin to head upstairs to meet the princesses.
>Your mind begins to wonder as you head towards the princesses' office.
>Maybe you weren't working hard enough?
>This isn't the first letter you've gotten before and the ponies that make those letter never seem to know how to make them a little less aggressive.
>The first time you got one of those letters you thought you were going to get fired.
>You ended up leaving with two front row seats to the Wonder Bolts and a promotion.
>Once the memory sinks in your steps feel lighter as you are now in viewing distance of the office doors.
>You are now in front of the door but the question still remains, why?
>You begin to open the door and hope its for the best.
>To your surprise, you see a room full of familiar ponies.
>The princesses are in their respective seats.
>Your assistant is shyly waiting on the far end of the table.
>A pony dressed in a blue uniform, must be a police pony.
>An elderly pony sits besides him. He may look older but his body had a rough look to it that makes him seem younger than he is.
>And
>Cherry?
>Celestia looks up and is the first to notice you.
>"Ah, you're finally here now the meeting can start."
"What is this all about?"
>"Please have a seat." She continues.
>"Anonymous this pony to the right of me is Cherry Sales. She was recently accused of robing a local grocery store she works at."
>"Used to work at." Cherry adds.
>"Yes. However, recent footage and witness claimed that she wasn't at the store during the time the robbery took place but at party. It all checks out but what we can't figure out is why someone would frame her."
"I'm actually a where of the situation, princess, but what does any of this have to do with me?"
>"Nothing." The older pony adds, his voice as rough as his body.
>" But it does have to do with thay marefriend of yours."
"Octavia? You must be mistaken, Octavia could not would she ever do something like that."
>Anger begins to escape your voice.
>How could you blame her? There couldn't be any evidence.
>"Cherry and I believe she is innocent Anonymous but evidence point to her being a possible suspect." Celestia says with the kindest voice you've seen her use.
>"unfortunately, in the recordings captured and other witnesses all claiming to see a pony fleeing the scene with a grey coat. Most ponies here have brightly colored coats and Ms. Melody is one of the few with a darker one."
"Princess you know Octavia and you know she isn't the type of pony that could do something like this."
>It becomes more and more apparent you are losing control of your emotions.
>She couldn't do something like this you say to yourself.
>could she?
>The room becomes quiet.
>Princess Luna is the one to finally break the silence.
>"Mr. Anonymous, if you truly believe she is innocent you will convince her to turn herself in. It is the only way to prove she is innocent. I know it seems extremely unfair but in this set of circumstances it is the best thing we can do for her."
>You look around the room almost in disbelief of what is happening.
>Then your eyes stop at Cherry.
>She has head facing the ground and is purposely avoiding eye contact with you.
>You think and think of another solution.
>But...
>Luna is right. The sooner we can prove Octavia is innocent in all this the sooner your lives can return to normal.
>It kills you inside to have to accept this.
>Your job is to give ponies smiles and your about to take one away from the pony you love the most.
>You take a deep breath and only one word is able to squeeze it self out.
"Fine."
>In all honesty, you'd always imagined that mercenary work would be a lot more interesting
>Fighting in giant pony wars -- wars which apparently almost never happen, you've only recently learned --, fighting monsters, covert ops...
>Anything but this
>You are Anonymous, proud member of the Gray Wing Corps hired martial services
>And, basically, glorified babysitter for Canterlot's elite
>Seriously, that's all you do
>No battles, no monsters, no missions in the heart of changeling-infested wastelands
>Just sitting around, watching them prattle on about their usual inane bullshit whilst wishing you were literally anywhere else
>Sure, on paper you're a "bodyguard"
>But it's not like there's anything you need to be guarding these ponies from
>They never leave their cushy little fru-fru environments, so what the hell is the point of even having you around?
>Such are your thoughts on this grim, chill Saturday morning, shuffling your feet to try and return the sensation that the cold has robbed from them
>Your breath plumes out in impatient little bursts from your nostrils as you scan the crowd of ponies, looking for your newest charge
>Where the hell is she?
>You've dealt with some pretty troublesome charges before, but never once who would go so far as to be late to your first meeting
>Maybe she's not coming?
>As much as you'd love an excuse to leave this place, apparently she pays well
>And you need the money
>It's been a particularly bad winter; Windigo attacks combined with pegasus incompetency have ensured that the various Earth Pony villages haven't been able to keep their crop output up with demands
>So... yeah, not good news for a poor bastard like you
>So, here you are, standing like an idiot in the middle of Canterlot's central train junction, waiting for this stupid mare to show her face
>"Ahem."
>You don't turn around, figuring it's just some random attendant trying to boss you around
>"Ahem!"
>God dammit, why won't she just go away?
>You're trying to wait for your stupid charge to get her stupid horse butt up to this stupid train so you can get out of this stupid cold
>"I said ahem!"
"What the hell do you want?"
>You whirl around to find yourself facing -- or looking down on, rather -- a gray mare, lugging a monolithic black case behind her
>Oh, great
>That's her, isn't it?
>The mare bristles in anger at your outburst
>"I'm searching for the servant I requested! But if this is the attitude I am to be presented with, I'm starting to think I ought to hire a different service."
>Well, this is off to a fabulous start
>Just grit your teeth and bear it, Anon, think of the money...
>Trying to keep your face neutral, you bow at the waist
"My apologies, ma'am. I thought you were someone else."
>"Me? Someone else? Are you daft? You're gazing upon the visage of Octavia Melody! How you could you possible not know me?"
"Uh..."
>She poses, sweeping her ink-colored mane over her withers
>"Now help me get my things on board, and I might forget your little outburst. Chop chop."
"Whoa, hold on. I'm a bodyguard, not a manservant."
>Octavia rolls her eyes
>"Well, as my bodyguard, then, I'd really appreciate it if you could guard my instrument by carrying it into the safety of the train. And my luggage too, of course. Stow it somewhere near the back of the train, but not too far back, do you understand?"
>You open your mouth to tell her to go take a long walk off Canterlot's shortest bridge... then close it again
>Just... think of the money...
>You only need to spend a weekend with this mare, all for a grand sum of seven thousand bits
>You could eat like a king for an entire year on that much, if you spend it wisely
>Bowing again, you grab her instrument case, and haul it towards the train
>You're in hell
>It's not like you particularly recall dying, maybe you did it in your sleep or something, but this is most definitely pony hell
>"Ahem! Servant! Go talk to the attendant. I want to know what the dining options for later are."
"Ma'am, I feel like I should remind you, I'm a bodyguard. Sending me halfway down the train is not the brightest idea--"
>Octavia claps her hooves
>"I'm not paying you to stand around and stare at me! I'm paying you to serve me, and as such, I am politely asking you to speak to the attendant!"
"Why can't you do it, ma'am? That way I wouldn't have to let you out of my sight."
>Even though you'd like to...
>"Nonsense! I have a very important performance coming up! I can't risk straining my hooves on something as frivolous as a walk!"
>She holds up her hooves, showing you their perfect, polished bottoms
>"Now, if you would..."
>She gestures to the door and, by some miracle resisting the temptation to roll your eyes, you head out
>Finding an attendant takes forever
>Seriously, how do these ponies tell each other apart?
>They all just look like random blobs of color to you
>Anyway, apparently the main dish today is Creamy Walnut and Mushroom soup, with a side of slow-roasted broccoli and stuffed carrots
>Which actually sounds delicious, but you doubt you'll be seeing any of it...
>When you head back down the train to find Octavia, however, you find she isn't there?
>Starting to panic, you grab a nearby attendant, a lanky stallion with a chunk out of his right ear
"Excuse me? Have you seen Octavia Melody."
>The pony smiles, and something about his grin makes the hairs on the back of your neck rise
>"Ah yes, sir. She complained of discomfort, and so we've moved her to one of the luxury boxes in the caboose. I hope that's alright."
"Yeah, thanks."
>Goddammit, seriously?
>She can't get up to ask about her lunch, but she can trek halfway down the train just because her current spot isn't good enough?
>When you finally find Octavia, she's lounging atop a plush couch in the back of the train's luxury cart
>"So? What did they say about lunch?"
>You tell her what the attendant told you, and she nods
>"Ooh, that sounds divine. And for dinner?"
"Uh... I didn't ask about dinner, ma'am."
>Octavia rolls her eyes
>"Well, do so, then. And maybe see if you can pick up some cultured fruits for a snack. I'm positively famished!"
>She sweeps a hoof over her head, as if miming starving in a bad melodrama
"Yes, ma'am."
>As you head back down the train to ask again about the menu, you pass the same pony from earlier
>The one with the chewed up ear
>Poor bastard, you think to yourself
>If you had cool pointy ears, you definitely wouldn't want some sucker taking a bite out of them
>The kitchen's attendant looks up in mild annoyance as you approach
>"You again? What is it?"
"I, uh... wanted to ask about dinner."
>"Dinner has yet to be decided. Our chef always likes to show off on his first night of a trip, and he's yet to prepare a menu."
"Right. Thanks."
>And so you make another walk to the end of the train, mentally cursing Octavia with every step
>Just one weekend, Anon, just one weekend
>You can get through this
>Take it one day at a time, try not to snap at her stupid smug little face, and it'll call be just fine...
"Can I come in?"
>"No."
"What do you mean no? I'm your bodyguard!"
>"I need my privacy, Anonymous. Be a dear and wait outside."
"Where outside? I can't just sit here in the middle of the hall!"
>"Sure you can. Ask them for a chair or something, and wait there until I need you."
"G-guh... you..."
>You clench your fists, trying really, really hard to stay calm
>Goddamn tiny horse trying to boss you around
>If she weren't paying you so well, you'd have drop-kicked her by now!
>And you still haven't ruled that idea out...
>The trip to the Crystal Empire is set to take until one or two in the morning, you guess you'd better get comfy until then
>Because it's not like Octavia's going to be decent company
>You sit against the wall of the train car, and you've just started to doze off when
>"Servant! Attend to me!'
>Jesus Christ, seriously?
>You get to your feet
"Yeah?"
>"I give you permission to enter my room!"
"Great, thanks."
>You open the door, stepping into her luxury cabin
>And when they say luxury, they're not fooling around
>Octavia's room is furnished with a plush, comfy-looking velvet couch, a bed that's big enough for three ponies her size, a shelf full of exotic, colorful books, and a door to a tiny, personal lavatory
>You're... actually a little jealous; this place is awesome
>The mare herself is currently lounging on her bed, sucking on the complimentary pillow mint
"Yes, ma'am?"
>"Select something for me to read."
"...are you serious?"
>"Perfectly. Find me a decent book."
"And you can't get up and do it yourself because...?"
>"I told you, I need to preserve my hooves, and my strength! Now find me a book."
>She claps her hooves together
>Resist the urge to dropkick her
>Resist the urge...
"Yes, ma'am. What would you like to read?"
>"Hmmm..."
>Octavia scratches her chin, pondering
>"Something... adventurous. This is a vacation, after all. Find me something about a grand journey, full of danger! It'd be the perfect inspiration for my show tomorrow evening!"
>You scan through the titles, but you don't find much about adventure, per say
>There's a book called Alone Together about two fillies getting lost in the countryside, but it looks like it's made more for foals than for a grown mare
>"Ooh! That one looks perfect! Bring it to me!"
"Really? This one?"
>"Yes! Bring it here!"
>You carry the copy of Alone Together over to Octavia, setting it down in front of her
>"Excellent work, servant. Now go ask the attendants about getting more cultured fruits. I can't read on an empty stomach!"
>It's half past ten now, and Octavia's finally gone to sleep
>You recline against the wall of the train, letting your eyes close
>Finally, you can get a little rest
>She hasn't let up on the random errands since you got on this train, to the point where you start to think she's just making shit up for you to do
>But now you can finally rest...
>You allow yourself to sleep into a half-nap, passed out enough to recuperate a little, but lucid just enough that anything out of the ordinary should wake you up
>"Servant!"
>You jolt upright, the worried tone in Octavia's voice pulling you immediately out of your rest
>You sprint into her room, hand on the knife strapped to your hip
>"Servant, help!"
>You scan the room, senses on high alert for any sign of danger
>You find none whatsoever
>Octavia is lying on her bed, sprawled
"What's wrong, ma'am?"
>"My pillow is hard as a rock! I can't sleep on something like this!"
>Now, normally, you like to think of yourself as extremely professional, able to handle even the most obnoxious of charges
>But you've just been woken up from a much-needed nap, after running errands for this bossy shrew all day
>So... you snap
"You woke me up because you're pillow wasn't good enough!? Are you kidding me?"
>Octavia's ears flatten in anger, and she glares up at you
>"I most certainly am not kidding! An extremely important show is coming up, and I can't afford to miss any sleep!"
"Forget it! I'm not getting you a damn pillow!"
>"Fine! Then consider our contract terminated!"
"With pleasure!"
>You storm out of the room, fuming
>There's nowhere for you to go, but you want to get as far from Octavia as possible
>In your anger, you nearly bowl over the pony with a chunk missing from his ear
>He dodges out of the way, continuing without a word
>You watch him go, wondering what his deal is
>He's wearing the attendant's uniform, so you figure he's off to check something on the train
>You haven't eaten all day, and you wonder if the kitchen has anything left you could take
>They probably wouldn't approve, but how are they gonna stop you?
>You're twice their size, and you're hungry
>Fortunately, it turns out that the kitchen's not locked, and you let yourself in, rooting through the pantries
>Not wanting to be discovered, you stick to the items in surplus, which you assume they won't miss
>Bread, some dried berries, a few crackers...
>It's not luxurious, by any stretch of the imagination
>But it's enough to quell the aching in your belly
>On second thought, you grab a little extra food, stuffing it into the pockets of your uniform
>You probably won't get another chance to sneak in here, after all, might as well get stocked up
>Just as you're reaching up to grab a loaf of French bread, cacophonous boom reverberates down the train, shaking the platform underneath you
>You grab the counter to keep from toppling over as items crash down from the pantry around you
>A second boom sounds, and the train's chassis groans with stress, something metallic screeching from the end of the train
>You sprint out of the kitchen, finding ponies streaming out of their rooms
"What happened?"
>A random attendant answers you, panic on his face
>"There was an explosion in the caboose!"
>An explosion?
>Oh shit, Octavia!
>You may not like her, but you're not about to let her die
>Without a second thought, you turn and sprint down the aisle, heading for the end of the train
>The closer you get to the caboose, the more dense the smoke in the air becomes, to the point where you're nearly choking
>The final car before the caboose is badly damaged; seats are torn out of their supports, windows are shattered, and long, angry gouges score the floor
>At the end of the car, the door leading to the caboose has been blown open
>Through the haze of smoke, you can see flickering flames dancing in the doorway
"Octavia? Octavia!?"
>"Help!"
>Her voice is muffled by the structure of the train, but she's in there somewhere
>Covering your face with your arm, you charge through the inferno, emerging in the caboose
>The coupling groans, the explosion having melted and blown it far out of shape
>You reach Octavia's door, pulling it open
>Inside, the mare herself is huddled in the corner, eyes wide in terror
>"Help! Help! I can't breathe! Help!"
>You reach her in two steps, hoisting her up and slinging her over your shoulders
>That wasn't so bad
>Now you just have to get out of this smoke-filled hell before one of you suffocates
>You hobble through the smoky car towards the doorway, holding tight to Octavia's shivering, terrified form
>Through the haze, you spy the figure of a pony, standing over the coupling between the caboose and the train's penultimate car
"Hey! Help! I need to find her a doctor!"
>A gust of wind clears the smoke away, revealing the stallion with a chunk out of his ear
>She grins, firelight glinting off his teeth
"I'm serious! She needs help!"
>Ignoring you, he bends down placing something over the coupling
>It takes you a second too much to figure out what it is
>The pony dives away from his object, and you do the same, taking shelter in Octavia's luxury compartment
>A moment, later, a third and final explosion rocks the cart
>You hold tight to Octavia, wedging yourself into the corner as the world begins to accelerate around you
>She whimpers in fear, clinging to you like a child as the car gains more and more speed
>Suddenly, a jolt travels through the car, rattling every bone in your body, and the world inverts
>The car tumbles over and over, the furniture seeming to remain suspended in the air as the car hurtles downards
>You fall to the ceiling, which has now become the floor, landing on your back to as to cushion Octavia
>And then, everything is silent
>You open one eye, beholding the destruction around you
>The furniture is smashed to pieces, with books and scraps of Octavia's luggage littering it
>Speaking of Octavia
>The mare groans, lifting her head
>"Ugh... wh-where... where am I...?"
"That's a damn good question..."
>You lift Octavia up, setting her on what remains of the mattress before heading out to get your bears
>The first thing you notice is the cold
>Not the kind of mildly uncomfortable chill of Canterlot in winter, but the bitter, biting cold of the north
>Snow swirls down around the train car, some of which has already piled in through the broken windows
>The only vegetation around are some sparse, dead-looking trees
"Oh. Great."
>In the distance, the train continues on, no sign of stopping to come back for you
>They might not even realize anyone was left behind
>"Servant? What's going on!? Where are we!?"
>Octavia looks around, panic growing on her face as she takes in the winter wasteland around you
"Not sure. Somewhere on the outskirts of the North, I guess."
>"The outskirts of the North!? But I need to be in the Crystal Empire for my show by tomorrow night!"
"Well... I don't think that's gonna happen."
>"But it has to! My career will never recover if I don't make it to my show! I demand that you take me there, as soon as possible!"
>She stamps her little hoof, the sound dampened to next to nothing by the snow
"Alright. Sure. Should I fly you there? Or would you prefer teleportation?"
>"Gah! You're not helping!"
"Neither are you. If we're gonna survive, we need some heat, and we need some food."
>"Survive? What are you talking about? Of course we'll survive! Someone will find us!"
"I wouldn't count on it."
>"They will! The minute they realize I'm gone, we'll have search parties all over the country looking for me!"
"Oh, yeah? And what if they're not the kind of ponies you want searching for you?"
>"What are you talking about?"
>You think back to the pony with the chunk out of his ear, the one who placed the bomb
"I'll tell you later. But we're not safe out here."
>"Well duh! We're in the middle of nowhere! Of course we're not safe!"
>Octavia howls in frustration
>"Agh! This is all your fault!"
"My fault? What the hell are you talking about?"
>"You... you let me stay here! And now I'm going to miss my show, all because of you! Agh!"
>She spins in a circle, jumping from hoof to hoof
>"What am I supposed to do? I can't miss this show! I can't!"
"Listen, you! We're out in the middle of nowhere, and we're not gonna see a rescue party for at least a day! Now unless you wanna freeze to death, help me find some wood to make a fire!"
>"No! I'm going to stay right here until someone comes looking for me! Go make your own stupid fire!"
>She stamps her hoof again, and again, and again, clearly unsatisfied with the lack of noise
>With one last howl of frustration, she sprints back into the ruins of her luxury compartment, slamming the door behind her
>You leave Octavia behind, heading out into the scraggly woods to find some firewood
>Fortunately, the trees are long dead, to the point that you can break their branches easily
>Before long, you've gathered an armful of dead sticks, enough to get a decent-sized campfire going
>Carrying them back to the wrecked train car, you clear a spot in the snow, arranging the sticks with some scraps of paper and furniture on top to act as kindling
>From the pockets of your uniform, you draw out a set of flint and steel, showering a carefully-positioned ball of paper in sparks
>It takes a good ten minutes of coercing, but you manage to construct a crackling, warm little campfire just outside the car
>Sitting back against the ruined metal wall, you warm your frigid hands, wishing you'd thought to pack a blanket
>After a half hour, you've fed the fire to the point where it's increased to a full-on blaze, smothering you and the car with warmth
>The door to Octavia's cabin opens, and she peeks her head out
>You motion for her to join you and, reluctantly, she does, slinking over with a blanket wrapped around her
>She takes a seat as far from you as possible, staring sullenly into the flames
>Her shivering gradually abates as the fire's heat washes over her
>As awful as she's been to you, you're strangely happy that she's cozy
>Maybe it's just because ponies are so cute, but you find it strangely hard to stay mad at even the worst of them
>At least she's being quiet now, and not barking orders at you every three seconds
>You know, you could kinda get used to this silence
>"Alright, fine! Thank you!"
>Out of nowhere, Octavia just belts the words out
"...huh?"
>"You've been just waiting out here for me to say thank you all night, haven't you!"
"Um... no?"
>"Don't lie to me! Just... ugh! Fine, thank you for saving me. Is that what you wanted to hear?"
"I seriously have no idea what you're talking about."
>"Well... whatever."
>Octavia folds her forelegs over her chest, pouting
>"There's your thank you. I hope you're happy."
>She kicks at the snow, scrunching her snout
>"But don't think this means I forgive you for getting me stuck out here! You messed up big time! You'll be lucky if I pay you at all when we get back!"
>You roll your eyes
"Yes, ma'am."
>"But you're still my servant! Even if I'm not paying you! I'm an Equestrian national treasure, and as such it is your responsibility as a citizen of this land to see me safely returned."
"Mhm."
>"Are you even listening?"
"Yep."
>"Well good! Because I expect to be well taken care of!"
"Of course."
>"Stop doing that!"
"What?"
>"That... that thing you're doing! Say yes ma'am!"
"Yes ma'am."
>"You did the thing again!"
"What thing?"
>"Grah!"
>She kicks more snow, her snout scrunching in frustration
>The two of you sit there for about two more minutes of silence
>Then Octavia jumps up, her blanket wrapped around her like a cloak
>"I'm going to bed!"
"Okay."
>"You're not allowed to join me in my room, under any circumstances!"
"Wasn't planning on it."
>"Stop doing that thing!"
"Yes ma'am!"
>A vein begins to pulse on Octavia's forehead
>"Agh, fine! Goodnight!"
>She sprints into her room, slamming the door behind her
>Then she opens it and slams it again, because the first time wasn't loud enough
>You roll your eyes, reclining once more against the wrecked car
>Looks like you've got at least another day with pony to look forward to, and probably a lot more than that
>Great
>poke
>poke poke
>You force one eye open, peering up
>Octavia is standing over you, wrapped in her blanket with a scarf circling her neck
>When did she get a scarf?
>"I'm hungry."
"Um... alright?"
>Octavia locks eyes with you, waiting
>You just close yours, trying to get back to sleep
>She pokes you again, harder this time
"Agh, what!?"
>"I said I'm hungry."
"Congrats. Go find some food, or something."
>"What? I can't find food! There's no food around!"
"Then what do you want me to do?"
>"Go look for some!"
"Where, in the forest? Am I just gonna happen upon some wild snowcones, or something?"
>"There have to be berries or something out there! Just go look! I'm starving!"
"God dammit..."
>You roll over, getting slowly to your feet
>Octavia watches you, frowning
>Not even bothering to look back at her, you head off into the woods
>Dumb horse doesn't even know you stole half the pantry's contents from the kitchen
>And you're not gonna tell her
>You'll bring some of the dried fruit you stole back to her, saying you foraged for it, or something
>But you're gonna make her wait
>If she wants to boss you around, she can wait a few hours for breakfast
>Besides, a little time away from her could be just what you need
>You head deep enough into the forest that the trees obscure the train car from view, and sit atop a fallen, rotting log
>Rooting through your pockets, you pull out a loaf of bread and much slowly on it, teeth grinding against the frozen food
>It's surprisingly peaceful out here
>Just gotta wait a few hours for a search party -- assuming one comes -- to pick you up, and then this whole trip will be a funny story and a shitty memory
>It's only about ten minutes before you hear her calling for you
>"Servant? Servant!
>Seriously?
>You can't even get five minutes of peace?
>Stupid horse
>Does she still not even know your name?
>You could have sworn you told it to her by now
>Octavia bursts into the clearing, stomping over to you
>"What is that!?"
>She glares at the piece of bread in your hand
"Bread?"
>"Where'd you get it?"
"I brought it."
>"And why aren't you giving any to me?"
"You never asked. You said to go look. So I've been looking."
>"But... you... agh!"
>She stamps her foot, sending a little explosion of snow up into her fur
>"That's not what I meant, you idiot! I meant get me food!"
"That's not a very polite way to ask."
>"Are you... are you kidding me? I'm going to starve!"
"Nah, you'll be fine. Maybe there are some nice berries around?"
>"Rah! Gimme!"
>She tries to grab your bread, but it's child's play for you to keep it out of her reach
>All you have to do is stand up
>"Hey! That's not fair! Give it!"
>She rears onto her hind legs, trying to swipe your breakfast out of your hands
"No! My breakfast!"
>"Share! Share, or I'll starve! You owe me!"
"Not until you ask nicely."
>"I refuse! You should share with me simply on the grounds of how important I am!"
"Eh, not very convincing."
>"Just give me it! Ugh, this is humiliating!"
>She continues to jump at your food like an angry little puppy, but you hold it just out of her reach
>Finally, she gives up, pouting
>"How dare you keep food from me!"
"I'm not keeping it from you. You just have to ask nicely."
>"I refuse! I am above simply asking for things! You're here to serve me!"
"I thought you weren't paying me anymore."
>"I shouldn't have to! I am Octavia Melody! You should be jumping at the oppurtunity to even by in my presence let alone act as my servant! Now give me breakfast!"
"No."
>"Grah!"
>She starts stamping her hoof in the snow, snarling with rage, yet unable to do anything
>You're just about to relent and give her some breakfast when you hear a crash from the direction of the wrecked car
>Octavia's ears perk up, and you can tell she heard it too
>"They're here! They've come to rescue me!"
>All thoughts of breakfast forgotten, she sprints back towards the train car
>You keep up easily, but stay slightly behind her
>It seems a little suspicious, that a rescue party managed to find your exact position after only a single night, even after not knowing exactly where you crashed
>Ahead, you can see the train car, surrounded by the silhouettes of five ponies
>Just as Octavia is about to burst out from the cover of the trees, however, you grab her up
>"Hey! What are you--"
>You clamp your hand over her mouth, taking cover behind a tree
"Shh!"
>Octavia thrashes in your grasp, but you wrap both arms around her, holding her in place
>Goddamn, though, she's really wiggly
>Nowhere near as strong as you, but she's incredibly lithe
>And mother of Christ, she won't hold still!
>You twist her head towards you, forcing her to look you in the eye
"Would you hold still?"
>You keep your voice down to a whisper
"We don't even know who those ponies are! They might not be here to rescue you!"
>Octavia licks the palm of your hand
"Would you stop? That's disgusting!"
>She scowls at you
>You duck out from behind the tree, scanning the area around the car
>The ponies are dressed in white cloaks flecked with gray, an effective camouflage in the snow
>One of them seems to direct the others, standing off to the side as they search the car
>Octavia goes back to licking your hand, trying to twist out of your arms
>The leader steps forward, removing his hood
>Your eyes narrow as you recognize the chunk missing from his ear
>Just like you thought, this is no rescue party
>They're trying to make sure they finished their job, and now they're looking for Octavia
>You need to get her out of her as soon as--
>crunch
"Gah!"
>A pair of flat, strong teeth clamp down on your hand
>Out of reflex, you let go of Octavia
>"Over here! I'm over here! Help!"
>She jumps out from behind the tree, waving her forelegs
>The leader turns, startled, and immediately orders his hench-ponies after her
>Octavia tries to run out to meet them, but you don't let her get even a foot away from you before you scoop her up again, full-sprinting away from the advancing hench-ponies
>"What are you doing!? Put me down!"
"Like hell! They're here to kill you!"
>"Kill me? Are you insane? They're here to rescue me!"
"Yeah, right! That's why they've got knives, isn't it?"
>"That doesn't prove anything! Help! He's trying to kidnap me! Help! Help!"
"You stupid fucking horse! I'm trying to save you!"
>"No you're not! You... you want me for yourself, don't you! Someone, help!"
"God dammit, you!"
>You leap over a fallen log, nearly losing your footing on the loose snow
>The ponies are gaining on you now
>Even though you might have the longer legs, hooves and a quadrupedal frame give one the advantage when running through snow
>So, looks like you need to take some drastic measures
>You veer off at a random angle, heading towards a patch of thicker growth
>With your greater weight, you barrel through the dead twigs easily, but they're just enough to slow down the advancing ponies, letting you pull away from them
>Octavia, however, is not a big fan of the idea
>"Ow! Ow!"
>Twigs catch in her mane, pulling at it and scratching at her
>But, given the alternative, you think she'll come to forgive you
>You burst out of the thicker growth, thinking you've lost your pursuers
>Alright, just gotta put as much distance between them and you as possible, and
>crunch
>Now, in all honesty, you should have seen this coming
>But you were a bit too focused on not getting fucking killed to worry about Octavia biting you again
>This time, her teeth go right into the nape of your neck
>And man, she bites hard
>The pain is just enough to make you lose your balance, and you and Octavia go tumbling down, rolling over each other before coming to a halt against a chunk of dead pine
>She gets up, the picture of smug, and shakes snow from her mane
>"Ha! Over here! We're over here! Help me!"
>The ponies burst into the clearing, the leader stepping forward
>He raises his foreleg, onto which you see he's strapped a strange metal device
>It looks vaguely like tiny version of a crossbow--
>The minute your brain is able to process what the hell you're staring at, you throw yourself in front of Octavia, tackling her to the ground
>You hear a twang, then the hiss of a projectile, followed by a sharp, burning pain in your shoulder
>Octavia wriggles out from under you, staring at you as she opens her mouth she complain
>Then she notices the dart sticking out of your arm
>The color drains from her face, and she glances between you and the band of ponies
>"Did... but..."
>The leader points the crossbow at her, flexing his hoof to trigger some auto-reload mechanism
>Octavia cowers, shaking with fear
>Before he's able to fire, you spring up, tacking the leader to the ground
>Immediately, his henchmen are on top of you, reining blows on the entirety of your body
>You force yourself to your feet, swinging with slow, clumsy blows
>Fortunately, with so many attackers, even your clumsiest attacks still land hits, your superior size forcing them backwards
>They're not armed, fortunately, giving you a distinct advantage
>You turn attacks away, following by dropping your own punches onto the heads and backs of your attackers
>Just when it seems like you might have a chance to win, the leader full-on tackles you, landing atop your chest with a knife in his mouth
>He positions the blade at your throat before you have a chance to react, dazed as you are by the suddenness of his attack
>Then something smashes into his head, knocking him off of you
>The leader staggers away, blood matting his mane, and you look for the source of the blow
>Standing over you, you find a terrified-looking Octavia, holding a branch in her hooves
>"Wh-what's going on!?"
"No time to explain! Now come on!"
>You grab her again, with only one arm this time, and take off
>Octavia's no longer struggling; in fact, it's quite the opposite
>She's clinging to you like a terrified child, her eyes wide with horror
>"Your shoulder! Are you going to be okay?"
"I'll be fine. Just hang on!"
>As far as you can tell, no one's pursuing you, but you want to get as far from them as you can before they can recover
>You and Octavia make it about a mile and a half before you collapse
>The trees are beginning to thin, and so you carry her to a decent-sized clearing, setting her down atop a log
>You slump down next to her, exhausted
>Octavia stares guiltily at the dart protruding from your arm
>"Does it... does it hurt much?"
"Nah."
>Gingerly poke the dart, and a thing line of pain trails its way down into your shoulder
"The padding stopped most of it. I'll be okay."
>You shrug off your jacket and begin to unbutton your shirt, causing Octavia to look away
>As you expected, the dart didn't make it deep, but the barbed edges make getting it out a less-than-pleasant experience
>Still, you don't want the bastard sitting inside you
>Working with the edge of your knife, you remove the dart, douse the wound in some antiseptic potion, and bind it with some linens
>By the end of the process, the pain is reduced to a dull ache
>Octavia, however, has her eyes squeezed shut, her cheeks tinged with green
>"Is... is it over?"
"Yep."
>She opens one eye, noting your now gore-free shoulder, and sighs in relief
>"Next time, warn me before attending to such ghastly ministrations."
"Gee, I'm sorry I got wounded while saving your life. Won't happen again."
>Your words come out a little harsher than intended but, honestly, you have a pretty good reason to be in a pissy mood
>Octavia hangs her head
>"You... you did well."
"Damn right."
>You try to move your arm, but pain rockets through your body the minute you flex your shoulder
>She stands up from the log, looking around
>"I'll... I'll go see if I can find any food."
"Don't worry about it. I've got enough for another day or so. Worry about finding something to make a fire with. We'll freeze a lot faster than we'll starve."
>Octavia opens her mouth, as if to scold you for giving her orders, then shuts it
>She sprints trots into the forest, not looking back
>You use your good arm to clear a circle of the snow, revealing bare, frigid ground
>Not much more you can do with one arm
>You lean against the log, trying to catch your breath, your body feeling sluggish and heavy as the adrenaline wears off
>After twenty minutes of rest, you hear snow crunching behind you
>Still on edge, you swivel around immediately, placing your hand on your knife's hilt
>Octavia trots into the clearing on three legs, the fourth wrapped around a bundle of sticks
>They're the tiniest, feeblest branches she could find, barely enough for a tiny fire, much less a decent blaze
>She dumps them in the circle your cleared, looking extremely proud of herself
>"Well, that should do it, right?"
"That's... not gonna be enough."
>"What do you mean, not enough? You said to find firewood!"
"Yeah, this'll last us like ten minutes."
>Octavia's mouth drops
>"You mean I need to find more? This took me forever!"
"Well, we all gotta make sacrifices."
>Octavia sighs
>"I'll find more."
>She disappears back into the woods, leaving you to attempt to make something decent out of the twigs she brought you
>By the time she returns again, you've got a tiny little fire going, feeding it sparingly with the pile of twigs
>Octavia struggles over to you, a huge pile of logs on her back
>She drops them at your side, and collapses
>"There. Is that good enough for you?"
"It'll be enough for a few hours."
>"Only a few hours? Agh! How much of this do I have to do!? It's torture!"
>She spins in a circle, stamping her hooves
"I can guarantee you that freezing to death will be a lot worse. But if you want to try it..."
>Octavia finally sits down, muttering under her breath
>You slowly expand the fire, but it takes longer than you thought it would
>Plus, the temperature is starting to drop, a bitter wind robbing the heat from your body faster than the fire can supply it
>Octavia begins to shiver next to you
>She wraps her forelegs around herself, her teeth chattering
>Before she can pester you, you remove your jacket, and wrap it around you
>She looks up at you, surprised by the gesture
"There's some fruit in the pocket, if you're hungry."
>"E-exactly! Excellent work, servant! You've done quite well today!"
"Mhm."
>You sit back on the frozen ground, the fire finally growing large enough to warm you
>Octavia clearly has no intention to return your jacket, but whatever
>She stares at the fire, the flickering light dancing in her violet orbs
"You know, I have a name."
>"You never told it to me."
"I didn't? Well, it's Anonymous."
>"Understood."
>Octavia paws at the ground, her ears drooping
>"Those ponies earlier... who were they?"
"That's a good question. I was hoping you'd have some idea."
>She shakes her head
>"I... I don't know. Why would anyone want to kill me? Why me?"
>She finally looks up at you, and you can see the fire in her eyes
>It strikes you how terrifying this must be for someone like her
>Taken from the cushy upper-class lifestyle and thrust into a life-or-death chase...
>It's almost enough to make you feel bad for the uppity little horse
"Again, no idea. Can you think of anyone who'd want you gone?"
>"I..."
>Octavia's brow furrows
>"I can't think of anyone. But... well, I suppose I did rise to popularity rather quickly. Maybe someone else is jealous?"
"Could be. Either way, we can worry about that later. Right now, we need to focus on getting to the Crystal Empire."
>Octavia nods
>"Though I guess there's no chance of me making it on time for my show..."
"No, there's not. So you might as well just drop it."
>Her ears droop
>"I see."
>Octavia wraps herself more tightly in your jacket, rooting through the pocket to find the promised food
>She raises a hunk of bread to her mouth and takes a bite, chewing slowly
>After only a single bite, she returns the loaf
"Not hungry?"
>She shrugs
>"I miss my cello..."
"Is that what was in that case?"
>Octavia nods, wiping her eyes
>"It's my pride and joy..."
>Without warning, she hops onto her hooves, shuffling impatiently
>"You have to take me back to the car! I need to get my cello!"
"Are you joking? I just dragged you two miles away from the ponies trying to kill you. Like hell I'm dragging you back."
>"We have to! I demand it!"
"No."
>"Yes! You're my servant, and you'll do as I say! I need that cello! If they damage it, or..."
>Octavia's eyes widen with panic
>"Oh, Celestia, just think of all the horrible things they could be doing to my baby! They could sell it, or drop it while taking it out of its case, or--"
"Use it for firewood?"
>Okay, sure, it was a little mean of you to tease her like that
>But the horror-stricken look on her face is priceless
>"They... they wouldn't..."
"Might. It's pretty cold."
>Octavia lets out a yelp, pacing around the campsite
>"We have to go back! I can't let them burn my baby!"
"What are we gonna do when we go back, huh? What if they're back at the car too?"
>"Then... then..."
"Are you gonna fight them off?"
>"I... I don't know, okay!? You're supposed to be helping me!"
"How!? I don't know if you forgot, but someone just shot me two hours ago!"
>Octavia stamps her hoof
>"Well... well... fine! Agh!"
>She flops down on the ground, despairing
>You let her mope, focusing on eating some lunch
>The supply of food is running low, and you still haven't seen anything edible since you crashed here
>Octavia dramatically drags herself over to the fire
>"Servan-- Anonymous. Please."
>She lays a hoof on your arm
>"I need that cello."
"I understand. But I can't get it for you."
>She sighs
>"I know. You're hurt, and... and it's because of me. So I'm going to go get it myself."
"Yourself? Are you crazy? They'll kill you!"
>The mention of the word "kill" is enough to make Octavia flinch, but she sets her mouth in a grim little line, standing up straight
>"I... I have to take that risk. I need that cello."
>You groan, holding your head in your hands
"I'm not gonna talk you out of this, am I?"
>"There's no possible way."
"Alright. Fine. We'll get the cello. But..."
>You stand up, hissing at the unabated pain in your shoulder
"I'm coming with you."
>"With me? But you said--"
"That changed. I won't be able to help much, sure, but I'm not letting you do this alone."
>Octavia hangs her head, her ears drooping
>"I see."
>You walk past her, trying to remember the wrecked car's approximate direction
>Octavia slinks along behind you as you head deeper into the snowy woods, jumping at every sound
>"This was a bad idea..."
"You're telling me."
>"You should just let me go alone!"
"Shhhh..."
>"Just let me go alone."
"No. I took a dart in the shoulder to keep you alive, like hell I'm going to let them hurt you now."
>"Oh, I... I see."
>You take a glance back at Octavia over your shoulder and, even though it's rapidly growing darker, you think you can see her blushing
>The cold manages to work its way through your clothes and right down to your bones, chilling you thoroughly as the two of you march
>The walk takes twice as long as it probably should, as you try your best to avoid the path through the woods by as much distance as possible
>Octavia slinks along behind you, looking like she'd very much like to complain, if she weren't so terrified of being heard
>She keeps close to you, her eyes flicking back and forth, ears twitching at every crack of a twig and groaning of a tree trunk
>After an hour of marching through the cold, you finally see the shape of the train car through the trees
>It's lit by the flickering glow of a fire and, peering through a gap in between the trunks, you can see a single of the pony henchmen sitting in front of the car, warming his hooves over the blaze
>Just one, huh?
>That's no so bad
>But how are you gonna deal with him
>Octavia pops up next to you
>"My cello's still in there."
"Duh."
>She scowls at you
>"What are we gonna do?"
"Hold on, I thought you had a plan."
>"I... uh..."
"Did you head out here with no idea how you were gonna get your dumb instrument?"
>"Sh-shut up. I got nervous and didn't think it all the way through, okay? I'm not used to all this sneaking around."
"Well, get used to it. Because you need to find a way inside, and I'm not gonna be much help."
>Octavia gulps
>For a moment, she looks like she's about to turn away and give up
>But she grits her teeth, her eyes narrowing in concentration
>"Alright, alright... what if... hmmm..."
>Octavia begins to shiver, shifting her weight from hoof to hoof
>"I could... no, wait, that wouldn't work... maybe... no..."
>She hisses in frustration
>"What do I do?"
"Fuck if I know. This was your idea."
>"Agh... fine. Alright. I have a plan."
"Yeah?"
>"You distract him... and I grab the cello and run."
"...that's the single worst plan I've ever heard."
>"I thought you were going to help!"
"Yeah, in a way that doesn't have me risking my life for a giant guitar."
>"It's not a guita--"
>The guard pony turns his head, staring right at your location
>You both freeze, praying the cover of the trees is enough that he doesn't see you
>The guard pony stands, slipping one of those strange crossbow devices onto his hoof
>Shit
>Just the sight of that thing makes your arm ache
>He begins to prowl toward you, ears perked and body tense in full alert
"Octavia..."
>"What?"
>Her voice has risen to a squeak, her entire body quaking with terror
"Go get the cello."
>"Huh?"
"I'll handle him. Go grab the damn cello."
>"But--"
"Goddammit, just go."
>Octavia looks like she's about to admonish you for giving her an order, but quickly thinks better of it
>Curling her tail around her rump to keep it out of the snow, she scurries off, ducking through the trees to circle around the wrecked the car
>The guard continues to advance toward your position, his weapon loaded and ready
>You tense up, placing your hand atop the knife strapped to your hip
>It's not going to be much use if you can't get in range, but maybe if he's dumb enough...
>The hench-pony stop just short of your hiding place, leveling his weapon at a position a few inches to your left
>You hold your breath, willing him to take just one or two steps closer
>His eyes narrow, scanning the shadows between the trunks
>You're fairly certain he can't see you yet
>But you can't do anything to hurt him without giving away your position
>And you highly doubt you can move faster than one of those darts
>He takes a half-step closer, his hoof twitching
>Your chest is beginning to burn with the desire for air, but you don't dare take a breath
>His eyes scan over your exact position, passing over you to stare at a clump of snow attached to the bark of a tree on your left
>Then they trail back...
>And fix directly on yours
>He's just begun to raise the weapon when a resounding crash, followed by a high-pitched, feminine scream, sounds behind him
>The distraction is just enough
>The pony looks away from your position for just a moment, and you spring out, throwing a punch at his face
>However, the snow under your boot gives way, and you end up barely slapping him
>It's enough to daze him for a minute, giving you just enough time to grab his hoof, trying to wrestle the crossbow device away from him
>The two of you tumble over each other, rolling down to the bottom of the hill
>A pair of flat teeth sink into your shoulder, and you shout in pain
>What is it with these asshole horses and biting you?
>You tear the device off his hoof, chucking it towards the fire
>The henchpony rolls out from under you, trying you kick you in the head
>You roll away from him, flinging snow into his face
>The henchpony retreats, rubbing his eyes
>"They're here! They're here!"
>Fuck, looks like you're about to have company
>You draw your knife, and thump the pommel against the pony's skulls
>He goes down hard, out cold
>You hear thundering hoofsteps in the forest, and sprint back to the wrecked car
>Inside, the remains of the furnishings are in even worse shape than before
>"Anonymous! Help!"
>Octavia is partially buried beneath a heap of books and splintered wood, her hooves wrapped around a monolithic black case
>You are Octavia.
>That sound was echoing through the night again.
>Everypony was worried.
>It seemed to haunt the streets every so often.
>A delightfully morose wailing of some distant melody.
>It was hard to tell what the sound was made by.
>Vinyl finally grew so annoyed that she started sleeping with her headphones blaring.
>But your cello soon joined the sorrowful echo on the night.
>It seemed to need harmony to calm its lonely wail.
>The recording you made of the odd duet with the ghostly sound was a wonderful idea.
>It not only calmed some of the fears in Ponyville, but made more ponies want to join in.
>Midnight assemblies of musicians gathered in wait of the haunting horn.
>Some nights were simply quiet ponies playing to small crowds.
>Other nights brought large gatherings to hear the inclusion of the spooky melody in the mix.
>It was always the horn to lead.
>Everypony else played harmony.
>It was proposed one day to search for the source of the echoing sound.
>Some ponies refused, wishing the restless spirit to be left at peace and to produce its melancholy musical moaning.
>Vinyl rigged a crude directional microphone with a spare microphone and Tupperware bowl.
>It at least helped to give a heading toward Everfree Forest.
>Only Twilight and her friends volunteered to go in search of the sound.
>You were determined to find the source of the sound that helped reignite a spark of musical ambition in Ponyville.
>The microphone tracked the wailing horn well enough to lead the group through the overgrown paths.
>Zecora joined your party, if only to offer solace to some ghostly spirit in need of ferrying to the other side.
>The sound grew to its peak as your group greeted the full moon's glow overlooking a hill.
>The crest was shadowed by a single dying oak tree.
>It was like a claw of a suffering beast reaching toward he heavens for divine intervention to stave off its mortality.
>Here was the source of the sound.
>An odd creature, this 'human' was.
>Always dressed like a walking corpse.
>A stallion by pony standards, he claimed no true name, no formal home.
>The wandering soul carried with him the large case of what served as luggage or his only belongings.
>A saxophone.
>Anonymous had been given some chances to interact in Ponyville, but often with less than favorable outcomes.
>He was simply alien to Equestria in every way.
>When asked about the song and why he never returned, he merely shrugged.
>"I didn't know you could hear me all the way down there."
>Discussions were quick, and succinct.
>Returning with your group, the waiting ponies were shock to hear the source was from this strange creature.
>Let alone from an instrument.
>Then again he did possess a differently built saxophone unseen by the likes of ponies ever before.
>His fingers worked the valves in magical ways to produce the echoing sounds.
>With something ponies could appreciate and bond to, Anonymous was more welcomed.
>Soon the nightly wailing was reworked into a midday group in the park.
>You asked him as he sipped a coffee and snacked on dry toast.
"What made you play like that on the hill all those nights?"
>"Music is a reflection of self. Or for humans it is."
"Ponies aren't much different. But why was your music so lonely and melancholy?"
>Anon merely stared back at you.
>Be Anon, once again seated behind your desk before a small classroom of fillies and colts, ready to give your bi-weekly music lesson.
>There's about a dozen of them; students from Cheerilee's class at Ponyville Elementary who had volunteered for extracurricular lessons from the resident human.
>A month ago, the entire class of around 30 had been in attendance.
>Curious young fillies and colts who doubtless just wanted to see the exotic stranger up close, and make some noise with loud instruments while they were at it.
>It hadn't taken very long for the crowd to diminish to those few who were interested enough in music to actually want to learn.
>The classroom is still as noisy as you'd expect it to be, of course.
>Half of the class are chattering together in small groups, while the other half of the class are warming up with their instruments.
>Of course, warming up is a term you use liberally for the violent screeching and wailing being emitted from their tortured devices.
>That was being a bit harsh, you suppose.
>After all, they're only kids.
>The only exception to this noise is the grey, black-maned filly sitting sullenly in the back of the room.
>On the floor next to little Octavia, in its case next to her chair is a small cello; an old, scratched-up relic you've dug out from the storage rooms of Ponyville Elementary.
>Unlike her classmates, she's completely disregarding her instrument, instead intently investigating the stack of sheet music on the stand in front of her.
>Tiny brow furrowed, she's gripped her quill in her mouth, leaning in every few seconds to make a mark or note on her paper.
>The very image of studiousness.
>Over the last month, you've noticed that her skill was advanced far beyond that of her fellow classmates, and had the sneaking suspicion that she was the only one who took practicing and homework seriously.
>Truly incredible.
>You look up from your perusal of the chaotic scene before you to the clock on the wall, taking note that the class had officially started about 2 minutes ago.
>You take a quick count of today's attendees.
>...
>Well, you've lost another one since last lesson, but that was fine.
>Junebug didn't really seem like the musical type anyways.
"Alright kids, settle down."
>You try to inject as much authority and "adultness" in your voice as you can muster (a skill you were still getting the hang of), and there's an instant drop in the classroom's volume as the assemblage hushes and hurries to find their seats.
>A few colts in one of the corners seem to ignore you, and continue talking.
>You clear your throat loudly, and fix them with your sternest, coldest stare.
>Soon enough, they stop talking, and you smile to the room.
"Well, good afternoon class! Ready to make some music?"
>There's a few cheers and words of assent, including a particularly exuberant woop from a frizzy-maned pink filly in the centre row.
>Apparently, she had only recently moved to Ponyville on some sort of student exchange program, having previously lived on a rock farm out in the countryside.
>Somehow, she could always get a smile from you, even if she wasn't the most attentive student.
>After the room has died down once more, you clap your hands together cheerfully.
"Fantastic! Now, I trust everyone has been practicing and doing their homework?"
>As expected, there's a less enthusiastic response from the room this time, though Octavia smiles and nods vigourously.
>You smile back at her, and turn once again to address the rest of the class.
"That's okay, we'll just pick up where we left off last week, shall we? Now, let's all open up our workbooks to Hot Cross Buns, and dive right in."
>About an hour later, you've gotten... something.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nekzcB6rcRg
>It's not much, but it's a start, and a damned sight better than anything you had been able to get out of them a month before.
>Little Pinkie Pie broke into a messy, impromptu solo on her accordion halfway through, and Lucky Clover and Caramel had apparently made it their mission to play their trumpets as loudly as possible.
>And, as usual, Octavia executed the music damned near flawlessly, running through the cacophony with her clear, vibrant playing.
>Overall, you'd say you're pretty pleased with the class's progress.
"Great job today, kids! Let's pack it up, and we'll see each other again on Thursday, alright?"
>"Bye, Mr. Anon!"
>The young ponies say their cheerful farewells, and start to happily gather up their supplies amid a refreshed flurry of chatter.
>Octavia, looking strangely despondent, gathers up her cello carefully in its case, and makes for the door first.
>Soon enough, the rest start to file out the door, leaving you alone in the classroom.
>You stand in the doorway and watch them leave; noticing a few of them being picked up by parents, a few more walking off into Ponyville proper in groups or pairs, and Octavia trekking off on her own.
>You weren't entirely sure how to handle her lonesome attitude, and toyed with the idea of arranging a parent-teacher interview at some point to discuss her behaviour.
>You entertain the thought further as you close the schoolhouse door, and return to the desk at the back of the room.
>You'd only been working at Ponyville Elementary for barely two months, and weren't entirely sure how much authority you really had in your office.
>Before starting your music class, you'd been taken on as Cheerilee's assistant, and you'd never seen her get involved in the behavioural problems or personal lives of her students.
>You weren't sure if that was because she simply didn't have any problems with her students, she took a hands-off approach to education, or that just wasn't that how things were done in Equestria.
>Maybe you'd ask her when you saw her next.
>As you get your humble pile of papers and files into your briefcase, you think that perhaps you're simply worrying needlessly about the filly, and perhaps you'd best let the situation lie, and take its course.
>You've gotten your briefcase set up, and are just about to leave when the door's handle rattles and turns.
>The door opens, and Cheerilee steps through.
>"Oh, hi there Anon! I was hoping you'd still be here. How did the lesson go?"
"Excellently. They're making some great strides, I'm sure you'd be proud of them."
>Cheerilee walks up to your side, lightly nudging you aside with her flank to open a drawer in her desk.
>She rummages around for a moment, and reveals a pair of apples in her mouth when her muzzle ascends from its exploration.
>She places one on her desk (with pretty fucking remarkable oral dexterity, you notice), and takes a sizable bite out of the one still in her mouth.
>Mid-chew, she looks at the apple on the desk, then back to you with a small wiggle of her eyebrows.
>Surprisingly enough, the apple's completely dry and bite-mark free, so you take the hint, and pick it up to take a bite.
"Damn, that's a good apple."
>Cheerilee finishes hers with a resounding crunch and dramatic swallow, and wipes her mouth clean with the back of her foreleg.
>"They really are. Applejack brings one fresh from Sweet Apple Acres almost every day, the little sweetie."
"It's a shame she's not as passionate about music as she is about apples."
>"Oh, Anonymous, music isn't for everyone you know. We've all got our special talents, and I'm sure Applejack will be a wonderful apple farmer."
>You nod, and take take another bite.
>Fuck, if she can grow apples like this, you had no doubt she would be.
"Speaking of special talents, what can you tell me about Octavia?"
>"Octavia Melody? Sweet filly. Wonderful student, but she's not terribly talkative, is she?"
"No, and I was wondering about that. Everyone in the class seems to have a friend, but I've never seen her spend time with the other students."
>Cheerilee frowns, and hikes herself up to sit on the desk, legs kicking idly as she surveys the blank blackboard behind you.
>"It's true, she doesn't seem to have many friends. Maybe she's lonely, but she does seem like a happy enough little filly."
>Cheerilee shrugs.
>"I haven't been doing this very long, Anonymous, but I've found that students come in all shapes and sizes, with all sorts of personalities and talents."
>"She may be a lonesome filly, but I'm sure she'll be fine."
"So... I shouldn't worry, then?"
>"No, I don't think so. Just keep going with your music lessons, and keep on being a good teacher."
"I don't know, Cheerilee, that sounds like a tall order.
>Cheerilee smiles, and kicks you on the shoulder playfully from her perch on the desk.
>"You know, for what it's worth, the students seem to really like you. Octavia's definitely perked up since picking up that cello of hers. If I'm not careful, you could end up taking my job, someday."
"I wouldn't worry, you're a far better teacher then I'll ever be, Cheerilee."
>Cheerilee giggles, and brushes her mane off her neck absentmindedly.
>"Oh you, stop that."
"Hey, it's only the truth."
>With that, you finish gathering up your papers, and close your briefcase with a decisive snap of it's clasps.
>"Well, I've better get on my way. See you tomorow, Cheerilee?"
>Cheerilee had been gazing distraitly at the blackboard, and snapped back to attention at your words.
>"Oh, yes, of course! Have a wonderful evening, Anonymous."
"You too, Cheers."
>You leave the schoolhouse and Cheerilee behind, and make the walk back to your home.
>It's about 4:30, and the sun is hanging low in the autumn sky, casting a gentle light through the golden-hued leaves above you.
>The trail leading to the school is relatively short, and before long you arrive at the eaves of the humble wood, at the edge of Ponyville proper.
>It's a small town, and boring though it may be, it had a certain quaint charm.
>Ever since you'd arrived in Equestria, you hadn't found nor heard of a place you'd rather live.
>The town centre itself is subject to a gentle flurry of activity, ponies going to and fro from shops and chatting in the shade of trees and storefront awnings.
>Your own home is just a street off the town centre, and as had become habit, you stop off at a familiar coffee shop on the way there.
>The Coffee Grounds is tucked away between a sweets shop and bakery, and at the moment is enjoying a small crowd of the town's regulars, ponies stopping in to caffeinate for the evening's work and leisure.
>You order your coffee quickly, not wanting to linger and distract the overworked barista from her work.
>With the arrival of a newborn filly in her life, Cake Heart had been looking more and more wearied by the day, and you'd been meaning to make the offer of part-time work at her coffee shop for a while now.
>Working as a teacher's assistant, though, had been more demanding of your time than you would have thought, and the addition of running a music class had effectively neutered your plans for additional work.
>After sharing a few brief words of idle chitchat and sympathy for her plight, you take your coffee and depart.
>A bare few minutes later, you arrive at your home.
>It's a small apartment, nestled above a flower shop on the ground floor.
>The shop's owner, an earth pony by the name of Roseluck, had placed the apartment up for rent shortly after you had landed your job at Ponyville Elementary, and had proven herself so far to be a kind and generous landlord.
>The rent was fairly cheap, and most importantly, she didn't mind your choice of hobbies.
>You climb the stairs leading up to your apartment (greeting Roseluck at her storefront on your way up), and after dropping off your briefcase and half-drunk coffee on the kitchen table, you set yourself down at the piano in your living room.
>It was an old, worn-out piece you'd recovered from a yard sale in your first few weeks of living here, and though it hadn't been cheap and moving it hadn't been easy, it was probably your most treasured possession.
>Letting yourself relax, you idly plunk at keys, making a few nonsense eddies and flows of melody before picking up into actual song.
>This had become your evening ritual, a way to unwind and let your mind wander and drift in the absence of Earth's TV and videogames.
>You lose track of time, but as the light in your apartment dims to the point of it being hard to read your sheet music, you realize you'd played away the remainder of the day.
>The sun had set, and you hadn't even made yourself dinner yet.
>You may be a bachelor, but dammit, you had too much pride to live off of fast food.
>You crack your knuckles wearily on the way to your kitchen, trying to remember what suitable food you had in stock, and what you could make.
>...
>Some onions, carrots, potatoes, celery, and a three-day-old loaf of bread, alongside a variety of quick breakfast items.
>Mirepoix soup it is.
>Half an hour later, your vegetables are boiling on your stovepot, the seasoned water filling your apartment with the aroma of the soup to come.
>You idly attend to the pot, sipping on the room temperature remnants of your coffee as you think about the day's events.
>Your work as a teacher's assistant was pretty satisfying, you had to admit.
>You really felt like you were making a difference in the lives of the fillies and colts you taught, and being able to pass on your love of music was something you've always dreamed of doing.
>Still, you couldn't help but feel like you should be able to do more.
>You decide that, despite Cheerilee's advice to the contrary, you were going to try to help Octavia Melody, somehow.
>As usual, you wake up early the next morning.
>You were a light sleeper, and the cadence of the birds singing outside and the gentle glow of the sunlight streaming through your window were hard to ignore.
>Not that you minded, really; you were glad to not need an alarm clock any more.
>You quickly prepare a breakfast of oatmeal and fruit, and eat as you go over the school's schedule for today.
>Not a lot going on; at least, not for another week, when Cheerilee had arranged a field trip to the eaves of the Everfree Forest.
>Content that you'd spend the majority of the day grading papers, supervising breaks, preparing snacks and running small errands for Cheerilee, you gather up your papers in your briefcase and prepare to leave.
>The road to the schoolhouse is relatively unoccupied; it was still too early for most of Ponyville's residents to have gotten up, and the day was only just commencing for the earliest risers.
>Indeed, by the time you reach the schoolhouse, there's still well over an hour until class is due to start.
>You usually arrived before Cheerilee, which suited you perfectly; it left a fair amount of time to relax, get set up and get some cleaning done.
>Surprisingly, however, your entry to the schoolhouse is greeted by the sight of Cheerilee sitting behind her desk, sipping at a cup of coffee.
>Be Anon
>Excited Anon
>Princess Luna gave you a ticket to the Gala and said she was going to attend this year, and that she really wanted your company
>...Or something.
>You weren't really paying attention.
>You went because she was kind enough to give you a ticket, and because you heard that Octavia Melody was going to play this year.
>While making your way to say hello to Luna, you noticed that Octavia was getting offstage.
>So, taking a breath to calm your nerves, you made your way to her and striked a conversation.
>After a brief introduction, the two of you went deep into the castle gardens and sat down on the grass, with her on your right.
>Now, you're talking with the one and only mare herself!
>You need it play it cool.
>If you're over enthusiastic, you might scare her away.
"It's hard to describe, but there's something about how you play, that just feels, breathtaking. It feels unique."
>maybe you're being weird, but she seems to enjoy your compliments.
>With a light blush, she smiles and looks away from you.
>"Well, thank you. I try to separate my music from the common rabble that's played by other, 'musicians'. It's something I strive for. Say, Anonymous, what is your occupation? We've been talking about me mostly, but I wouldn't want to seem like my only favorite conversational topic was myself. Especially to such a handsome stallion like you."
>She looks at you, and rests a hoof on your thigh.
>You blush.
"I'm not attractive, really, but thanks. I help the Apple family over at Ponyville, whether that'd be picking apples, repairing fences, or other work."
>The hoof on your thigh gets raised up to your arm, which she starts stroking.
>"I can definitely see the results, Anonymous."
"You can just call me Anon, Octavia. My friends call me that."
>She looks you in the eye, with a really strange look. You can't put your finger on it, but it reminds you of the looks your parents would give to each other when you were younger.
>Then you'd hear loud noises coming from their room, at night. Really creepy stuff.
>"Are we friends?"
>Her hoof goes from your arm to your chest, then slowly trails downward.
"I-I mean, I hope we're friends. If we're not I guess that's okay, but I'd really like us to hang out later or something."
>She stares at you and stops her hoof.
>You look at her pleadingly.
>She puts her hoof back to her side and sighs.
>"Well, I suppose we're friends. But it is getting late, and I believe my break is over."
"Oh, that sucks."
>You both stand.
>You give her a nice hug.
"Have fun performing!l today! I'll be listening."
>"I'll try. Oh, I just thought of something! Would you like a private performance? I know you're from Ponyville, so you can stay at my house for the night."
>She has a giant smile.
"I wouldn't want to impose or anything, I can find somebody else to stay with for the night."
>It got just a little bit smaller.
>"Oh. Well, I suppose we can meet at castle gates? I live close by here."
"Sounds like a plan. See you tomorrow!"
>You walk off.
>Man, Octavia's cooler than you thought.
>And she's going to play for you!
>Just you!
>The carriage comes to a steady halt as it arrives towards its destination
>An exiting passenger pays her dues to the silent driver.
>Donned in a simple bow tie and black veil
>The tie was subdued from the wearers preferred color, to that of a more mellow and sympathetic color compared to the normal bright and upbringing hues.
>The carriage takes off in silence, not a single word exchanged between the two parties.
>It remained so even on the way here.
>The mare takes a few steps towards the entrance
>Canterlot Cemetery, burial grounds for all of the earnest and deserving of Ponies and Equestrian citizens.
>But for one Mare, it was a permanent mark upon her life that her special somepony had passed.
>In Equestria, since the rule of the two sisters began, everypony was immortal
>Very few suffered the consequences of age and growth past adulthood.
>Namely adults, and those who have decided to start a family of their own.
>Many decades ago, a strange visitor roamed this land.
>He had come not from the Everfree forest, or even the darkest confines of Equus, but from another world entirely
>His name was Anonymous.
>A human, and the only one since the olden times of the Monarchy era.
>On the day of his arrival, he was confronted and detained by guards for spontaneously teleporting into the castle.
>You were there, performing for the Princesses by their request after a rude group of ponies trashed the Grand Galloping Gala and your ensemble.
>He had appeared 5 feet up in the air before falling.
>He looked like a monkey, but much taller, about two times your height when standing on all four hooves.
>His attire was nothing short of formal, a tuxedo, and a black bow tie.
>For reasons unknown, his face was shrouded in mystery, covered by a green mask with a question mark.
>It moved so natural whenever he spoke that it seemed that it was a feature of his species.
>Naturally, the guards surrounded him, spears drawn and Princesses held back.
>You set down your bow and cello, watching from afar.
>But both Princesses approached him bearing a shared curious and caring expression as she spoke to him.
>He would go on to explain himself, where he came from and what he did
>And that he did not remember much before happening about in her Castle, and that he meant no harm.
>Eventually he asked the question of what we were, the guards, the princesses.
>It was shocking to hear that on his world, Equines did not talk, nor have the capability to be labelled as sapient.
>He was equally as scared when he heard that humans no longer walked the lands alongside ponykind since eons ago.
>It wasn't even 5 minutes into the conversation before Princess Luna pointed out a case strung on his back.
>Ironically, it was an instrument, a unique two stringed fiddle that you had only seen once while playing with the Royal Ensemble during a tour in Neigh-sia
>Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, you had never heard it play before, nor did you bother to learn the name of it.
>Anon had claimed it was called an “Are-who”, but was spelled e-r-h-u
”You’re a fellow Musician?”
>You ask, now just as curious as the Princesses.
>Originally you took no interest in him apart from the issue of your performance being interrupted, again.
>And the fact that ponies did not bear any resemblance to you and your colleagues here on Equus.
>Anon looked over, unaware of your presence before.
>”More or less, I’m still learning… is that a Cello?”
>Both the Princesses and yourself are intrigued by his knowledge of your instrument.
”Why Yes, it is.”
>You reply with pride
>”Would you care to watch this performance? We can settle whatever issue lies ahead of us later. One would be wise not to miss a solo act by THE Octavia Melody.”
>Celestia asks, whilst Luna nods in agreement
>The Princesses herself just complimented you as if you were Royalty, whatever direction today is going, it’s surely in your favor.
>The Princess sends the guards off while you get yourself into position.
>While the guards left, Anon stood there, dumbfounded
>It wasn't until a short but seemingly endless pause that he responded
>"I appreciate the offer but I'd rather get this settled now"
>To be honest, you didn't know why the Princess offered it in the first place.
>A strange creature that hasn't existed for eons appears from thin air and the first thing you do is offer him a performance by a Musician he doesn't even know about?
>"I bet this Octavia Melody is famous and all- especially if you're Princesses getting a solo performance from her, but I want to get back to MY world, with my family!"
>His voice was stricken with fear and concern
>While it made sense that he wanted to get back to his family, and his rightful place, you were still mad at the fact that someone would decline an invitation to listen to your music.
>You're Octavia Melody for hoof's sake!
>"I mean, who knows what I'm missing right now, or who knows if I'm even missing? Am I even going to see my family again?"
>A troubled expression grows on Princess Celestia's muzzle before she looks over to her sister.
>Luna nods in agreement, to whatever silent messaged received from her sister.
>"I understand your frustration, but trust in me Anonymous, for when I say that this is /not/ a matter where time is an issue"
>He didn't seem to respond well to what she said, mumbling to himself, very much frustrated just as Luna said.
>"Time... time doesn't matter?"
>A sympathetic look looms over both the Princesses, as anon finds out what that means.
>"I'm dead, aren't I?" He murmurs as he collapses to the the ground on his legs.
>No verbal response is fabricated, as Anons' question only seemed to warrant a slow nod from Celestia
>"How did you know? W-Why did you just tell me in the first place?"
>Anon unslings his case, opening it up and looking upon his instrument.
>"If I'm really dead, then this.. this is the last thing I have to remember of anyone back home."
>Moments of silence were ever present this afternoon.
>He closes the case before hugging it tightly, and standing up.
>"I guess I'll listen to some music then..." he blurts
>"Do not fret Anonymous, we will understand everything together in due time, for now, let Miss Melody calm your stressed spirit"
>Princess Luna always had a way with words.
>So you played, you played to your hearts content for two hours, one hour short of what the Princesses requested.
>But they didn't care, saying that this hour was needed to aid Anonymous
>The tempo and all around tune had gone far more emotional as you played Composition 7, from Act II.
>Before Anon's sudden arrival, you had played your upbeat classicals.
>They kept in touch with the new trends of high profile cities such as Manehattan or Baltimare while still retaining the traditions of the classics.
>But in the end they said that it was perfect, given the circumstances.
>Anon complimented you on your music, saying that none of even the most renowned cellist players from his world played anywhere near as good as you did.
>The feeling was mutual as you asked if he could play his instrument sometime for you.
>As you began packing up your equipment, the Princesses had asked for you to accompany them in assisting Anon with his transition into this world.
>You were both surprised to say the least, and you hadn't considered the idea before.
>Though you /were/ both musicians.
>The four had headed towards the Castle Catacombs, where the most sacred and heavily guarded spells and secrets of Equestrian history were kept.
>Celestia and Luna had revealed that while Humans had existed long ago, they were an anomaly.
>They would not die and remain deceased, rather reincarnate as themselves but not have any idea of the past whatsoever.
>Magic bore no effect on them either, yet there was no need, for they were a peaceful and civilized species, while also technologically advanced.
>As a result of their life cycle, too many humans became a potential issue.
>It was told that Starswirl the bearded discovered a portal to a new world for humans to thrive on.
>To which they all agreed, as they did not wish to overpopulate and indirectly take over a land that was not theirs.
>It shocked Anonymous, freezing him in place while looking like he had just seen a ghost.
>For he learned that eventually he would pass away, and remember not his family, friends, or even his future to come in the new world.
>You wander into the living room. The sound of the cello stopped some time ago and you got curious.
>It sits on it's stand, the bow propped up beside it. Sheet music is scattered all over the floor and coffee table.
>Where is she? You look around the room...
>There, on the sofa. Sound asleep, her mane hanging to the floor along with one of her back legs. She forgot to take off her bow tie again.
>You watch her sleep for a moment, sipping your scotch.
>You pick up a sheet of music. Running your eye's along the notes you can here the cello in your head, the melody dancing across your mind.
>You sit down in your easy chair and pick up your guitar.
>Softly strumming the strings you make sure it's in tune.
>You begin to pick out a harmony. Reading her music and adding your own.
>You play softly so you don't awaken sleeping beauty.
>Slowly you lose yourself in the tune.
>Half way through the piece you realize the cello isn't just in your head. Looking over you see her behind her instrument, eye's closed and a smile on her lips.
>Strumming the chords harder you round out the song, finishing with a flourish. She opens her eye's and turns her smile to you.
>"That's what it was missing. I couldn't get it right for some reason." she says.
"It takes two to play a love song Tavi." you reply.
>"What should we call it Anon?" she asks.
"I dunno." you say, replacing your guitar on it's stand. "But I can't help falling in love with you"
>You open the door and duck inside. Shutting out the wind and cold behind you, you brush off the snow.
>Setting down your guitar case you remove your coat and boots.
>The house is quiet. No movement or music coming to your ears.
>You quietly make your way into the living room and look around.
>There's sheet music everywhere, that's normal.
>Octavia is on the floor, cuddling her cello and sound asleep.
>Returning to the foyer you grab your case and take it to the bed room and put it away.
>You get into your PJ's and prepare for bed before returning downstairs for Tavi.
>She looks so peaceful you almost want to leave her there but the thought of sleeping alone persuades you.
>You gently slip the cello from her grasp and replace it on it's stand. turning back you scoop up your mare and head for the stairs.
>She wraps her hooves around your neck reflexively, barely waking up.
>"Play me back to sleep Anon." she says in your ear as you lay her on the bed.
>Tucking her in you pick up your guitar. Sitting on the bed beside her you start to play.
>By the time you finish the short lullaby she is snoring softly.
>You set your guitar down and slide into bed next to her, turning off the light.
>You wrap your arms around her, kissing her forehead and snuggling into her warmth.
"Good night, Tavi. I love you"
>The sound of hundred's of hooves pounding the wooden floor greet your ears as you strum your last chord.
>You set your guitar on the stand and step up next to Octavia.
>As you both take your bow's the concert hall is filled with wild cries of 'Encore, Encore'.
>Glancing down at Tavi you raise an eyebrow.
"What do you want to do?" you ask.
>She only say's one word but it brings a smile to your face.
>"Swan"
>You turn and walk over to the grand piano sitting at the side of the stage.
>Don't need music for this one. Taking your seat you lay your fingers on the keys.
>You keep your eye's on your mare as she starts to play. The emotion of every note travels across her face as she loses herself in the music.
>The crown is dead silent as you finish the song. They all seem to be holding their breath as the last note fade's.
>Then the dam breaks. Whistles and load shouting accompanied by thunderous hoof stomping fills the air as you and Tavi take one last bow.
>You hug her close and kiss her cheek, guiding her off stage.
>Another great performance in the bag, and food on the table for a while.
>When the curtain comes down, the applause dies away and you gather your things.
"Let's go home beautiful." you say to her as you pick up the interments and head for the door. Your love by your side.
>You hear the plucking of cello strings.
>Setting aside your book you close your eyes and start to listen.
>Octavia starts to sing.
>She doesn't do this often, Though you wish she would. Her voice is rich and beautiful. Her range is amazing and captivates you with it's versatility.
>The song is almost sad, but makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside.
>As she drags her bow across the strings, letting her voice fade a chill runs down your spine.
>Her ability to draw emotions from you never fails. Even when she's just playing around and not really trying.
>She goes back to plucking the strings and her voice flows out once more.
>You rise from your chair and make your way to her.
>Hugging her from behind as she plucks the last notes.
>A tear rolls down your cheek into her mane.
>Neither of you say a word because you don't have to.
>Date night. You and Octavia are snuggled in a luxury box in the Royal Canterlot Theater.
>The Royal Fillyharmonic Orchestra is playing and the Princesses are here.
>You can see them across the way in their own box.
>You got an invitation because they are playing one of your compositions.
>Well not really yours but it's a song from your world anyway. They don't know the difference.
>A scotch in your left hand and your right arm around your mare you couldn't be happier.
>As the song nears it's crescendo, a griffon steps from the stage wings with an electric guitar slung over her shoulder.
>She proceeds to melt all the ponies faces with her awesome solo.
>Octavia giggles beside you pointing out the Princesses peeking over the backs of their chairs.
>"Prank successful Anon." she whispers, kissing you on the cheek.
>As the last note fades you stand and lean out of the box.
>Raising your glass toward the stage you shout.
"Rock on Gilda!"
>You nod in pride at your student. She did well.
>As you settle back into your seat the audience below you erupts in thunderous applause and shouting.
>You put your arm back around Octavia and finish off your glass.
>A knock on your studio door.
>Octavia walks over and opens it, nearly getting knocked off her feet as three fillies come rolling in at full speed.
>"Hiya Mr. Anon! We're here to cut our first single, become stars and git our cutie marks!" Apple Bloom holler's as she skids to a stop at your feet. Sweetie Bell and Scootaloo slide to a stop beside her.
"Ok girl's. Have you picked a song yet?" you ask
>"Sure did!" says Sweetie bell. "But we're going to need your help, and Miss Octavia's."
>She hand's you some music and they head for their interments.
>Scootaloo takes the drums as Apple bloom picks up her bass.
>Sweetie Bell heads for the mic.
>Octavia walks over and looks at the music while you grab your guitar.
>"What do you want me to play?" she ask's the girls. "This doesn't look like a cello song"
>"Um...here you go Miss Octavia." Scootaloo holds out a tambourine. "Just follow me!" she grins, spinning her drumsticks. How...? never mind.
>Octavia cocks an eyebrow at you, holding up her new instrument. You just smile and wink back at her.
"Alright girl's. Are you ready?" you ask.
>"Yeah, lets go!" they all say at once. You nod to Vinyl in the sound booth to start recording as Scootaloo counts off. 1..2..3..4..
>As you start to play you look to your mare who is beaming with pride.
>It's a good day.
>You and Octavia are camping in the Everfree Forest (sorry SirGreensAlot)
>It's a chilly night so you sit huddled around the camp fire as the moon rises.
>You softly strum your guitar. Playing some tunes for your mare.
>You hear twigs snapping and brush rustling as you finish playing. Something big is making it's way to your fire.
>Octavia ducks behind you as you stand and turn to face the noise.
>Most things you have run across out here are intimidated by you if you yell and make a lot of noise.
>You hold still, watching for whatever steps into the light.
>What peek's out of the shadows surprises you...never seen this before.
>It's the head of a massive bear, Big blue eyes and a pink streak of fur on the top of it's massive yellow head. It's almost cute, if not for the huge teeth in it's muzzle.
>You hold your arms out to the side and say firmly:
"Hey bear!"
>The massive creature squeaks and dives behind a tree. Hiding it's face but not the rest of it's shaggy yellow body.
>"Wait Anon." Octavia stops you. "It's just a flutterbear...they're harmless."
>She walks around you and approaches the creature, holding out a hoof.
>"It's ok, we won't hurt you." she glances back at you. "It must have been attracted to your music honey. play it something else."
>You pick up your guitar again.
>The flutterbear peeks out at the sound of your guitar, sniffing at Octavia.
>"That's it....come on." she says as the beast creeps towards the fire and the music.
>"She just wants to snuggle...see...harmless." The flutterbear plops down by the fire and Octavia promptly cuddles up against it.
>Oh well. sure wont be cold tonight.
>It's Hearth's Warming eve. You and Octavia are at Lyra and Bonbon's party.
>After plenty of the warm apple cider you both have a cozy little buzz going.
>Someone ask's you to play a holiday song from your world. These ponies can't seem to get enough of the music you brought with you when you came here.
>You pull Tavi aside and persuade her to help out, along with Lyra and a couple of other musical ponies.
>The song is not that hard to play and they have an uncanny ability to just jump in and follow along.
>You all gather in front of the fireplace as the room gets quiet. You strum your guitar.
>A little tipsy you let The King come out in your voice. The twang is real.
>When Octavia starts to sing everypony is shocked and you can't get the grin off your face.
>When the song finishes there is applause as Octavia kisses you on the cheek.
>Hearth's Warming at Canterlot Castle. You have successfully introduced Big Band music to Equestria over the last few years.
>These ponies went wild for it just like Americans in the 30's.
>You have a nice little orchestra put together for tonight. Swinging out the best Christmas hits from your world.
>Celestia and Luna are in attendance, and a bunch of other ponies are on the dance floor.
>You keep the party going with hits like:
>and
>The princesses are even getting into it. Dancing around mostly with each other.
>Being a band leader is the best. You love the smiles on everyponies face, especially the grey mare in the first chair, string section.
>The two of you have a surprise for the end of the show.
>As you prepare for the last song you address the crowd.
"Thank you everypony for coming out. We've enjoyed playing for you on this beautiful night. Before we go we have one more song for you. so grab that special somepony and let's slow it down a little. Please welcome, for her vocal debut, Octavia Melody!"
>You strike up the band, and join your mare in the final song, watching as ponies pair off to dance the last song.
>The song ends to thunderous hoof stomping and shouts.
>Octavia has successfully won them over with her voice as well as her playing now.
"I told you so" you whisper in her ear.
>Date night again.
>You and Octavia are in some little out of the way 'concert hall'. more like a bar with a dance floor and a band stand.
>Duke Guildington is playing as ponies do their version of the Lindy hop and foxtrot on the smoke hazed dance floor.
>You and Octavia are at a table right by the stage. Simply enjoying the horn's blasting in your ears and having very little conversation.
>Most of the ponies playing are either student's of yours or talent you've scouted.
>As the band swings into one of Tavi's favorite songs, she drags you onto the dance floor.
>Ponies make way as you swing Octavia all over the stage. Good thing she doesn't weigh much.
>The song gives way to a melancholy jazz ballad you recognize immediately.
>This is a risky play. You need a hell of a vocalist to pull this one off.
>You look toward the mic and see a dark coated young mare step up and start to sing.
>"Wow." you hear from Octavia. "Who is she?"
"I dunno." you reply as you join in the slow dance together. "But I'm gunna find out."
>Twilight's castle. Pinkie Pie is throwing some party for all of Ponyville.
>Some great evil has been defeated by the power of friendship or something. You don't really care.
>This is just another chance to preform for your fan's, and spend time with your Octavia.
>Pinkie invited you to play her music...literally. She is the element of laughter...and because of that she is the embodiment of the blues, and you love to play the blues.
>You start them off light. Watching Octavia dance around and have a good time with all the others.
>Working your way through your set you hit on some B.B King.
>Some Thorogood
>And even a little Clapton
>When the night starts to wind down, Octavia comes to the stage. You like to give her the last song, or song's, get the crowd warmed up.
"This is a love story from my world, about and old american folk hero. I'm going to let the beautiful Octavia tell it to you."
>You finish addressing the crowd and settle at the piano.
>You are sick. Damn hay fever. Head stopped up, running a temperature, feels like you're coughing up a lung.
>Octavia has been by your side all day, keeping your humidifier filled and rubbing menthol on your chest.
>She made you drink some nasty smelling stuff she got from Zecora that tasted like pure grain alcohol.
>It killed your cough and the spices in it opened up your sinuses, now you are having trouble keeping your eyes open.
>"Close your eye's dear and get some rest. You'll feel better in the morning. Let me sing you the words I came up with for that song we did the other day."
>You shift around and get comfortable as Octavia starts to sing.
>Apple Family Reunion. There's a crowd and plenty of cider, that's all it takes to get you here.
>You hate playing Bluegrass. There's no soul in this music, no swing.
>But you will do just about anything for Applejack's cider.
>You and Octavia spent a few days converting some rock songs from your world into bluegrass, to make it a little more bearable.
>They really like this one for some reason.
>You even get Tavi to sing near the end of your set.
>Something a little more traditional.
>You end your set with a tearjerker...cause their country ponies. Must have tears.
>Not a dry eye in sight, you bow and leave the stage. Now where is that cider...
>Your playing Vinyl's club tonight.
>Octavia is in the DJ booth. You have a few ponies helping you out with the band part. You and Tavi are taking turns entertaining the crowd.
>Octavia drops a beat when your song finishes.
>Following her lead you start the next song.
>As the last note fade the lights go out. An image appears on the huge projector screen behind you as a video clip starts to play.
>As the last words spoken fade into the silence you whisper into your mic:
"Lets Rock" headphones and high volume encouraged https://youtu.be/7ZbUnu8WBn0
>Now this is a party.
>New years eve, or whatever the pony equivalent is, you're not really sure.
>Time's Square, Manehattan. There are thousand's of ponies here.
>This is the biggest block party you have ever seen, and of course, you are seeing it from the stage.
>You play some good classics from your world.
>Octavia is handling the string section, looking beautiful in her original Rarity. Crafted especially for tonight's performance.
>You play several more songs.
>Octavia swap's to the bass for this one.
>The rich, high class ponies eat this up. You don't think they have a clue what the song is about.
>After a good set it starts to get midnight. They begin to count down as a giant ball of cotton candy with what looks like stars in it starts to drop...Pinkie.
>As the clock strikes 12, fireworks go off. Lights flash and everypony cheers.
>You shout into the microphone:
"I hate to disappoint you ponies, but I hate Auld Lang Syne! I refuse to bring in the new year with anything other than 'FREE BIIIRD!!' https://youtu.be/np0solnL1XY
>It's premier night in Canterlot. They don't have video games here in Equestria.
>But they take their table top gaming very seriously.
>Tonight is the release party for 'Foal of Light'. They have a big shindig and reveal complete with cosplay and a full orchestra playing scores from the soundtrack.
>Yes. They record soundtracks for board games.
>Luckily, you and Octavia like games. When they asked you to compose for this one you jumped at the chance.
>They gave you a early version of the game and you and Tavi played it for months while you wrote the music. Best job ever!
>Your small orchestra from the music school plays through most of the soundtrack.
https://youtu.be/Byz6960tWxQ https://youtu.be/Wew8kC4tvNQ
>For the main unveiling you play one of the epic boss fight songs.
>After the creators do their thing and show of the game for the huge crowd, you prepare for the last performance.
>This wasn't a song written for the game, but Octavia thought it would fit.
>She comes out dressed as the main character with a violin and starts to dance across the stage as she play's
>Her dexterity is mind-blowing.
>You slip quietly in the back of the class room. On days like today, when you finish early, you like to sit in on Tavi's classes.
>They are always entertaining.
>She has just finished roll call. Putting her book down she addresses the class.
>"Today, let's have some fun. Pancake Batter, come up here please.
>A cream colored earth pony filly with a butter yellow mane walks to the front of the class.
>Octavia directs her to a cello and picks up her own.
>"Just follow along with me and try to keep up." she instructs the student as she starts to play.
>Surprisingly the little filly keeps up. The song ends and Octavia calls another forward.
>"Come on Red Mud." A burnt red unicorn steps up and grasps the cello in his magic.
>Poor little Red Mud almost doesn't make it. He's out of breath and sweating at the end of the song. Octavia is completely composed, not even a hair out of place in the mane she was swinging around wildly a minute ago.
>"OK kid's, any request?" some filly calls out 'Hall of the Mountain King'.
>You call out in a squeaky voice, trying not to draw attention to yourself:
"Apocalyptica"
>Octavia shoots you a glare. You can hear her words inside your head. (see pic related)
>I'm going to need everyponies help on this one so grab your instruments and get ready.
>Two hours later you are done cleaning up the broken glass and repairing the windows that got blown out.
>Octavia walks up and leans against your leg. "Why must you provoke me like that dear?" she asks, a smile on her face.
"You know why. Sometimes you need an excuse to show off."
>You smile back at her, scratching behind her ears.
>"My name is Octavia Melody, and I'm here today to share with you some stories. Stories that I have gathered over the last few week's traveling in the Macintosh Mountains.
>The Ponies who live there live hard. They mine coal from deep in the ground. They have developed a way of life that is totally alien to us, and a style of music that is completely unique.
>When I say share stories I'm talking about songs I learned. The 'unique' part about their music is it all tells a story. Stories of pain and heartache, struggle and hard work, joy and love.
>From their music we get a glimpse into their lives. So without further ado I present to you, Mountain Music."
>"I wasn't always welcome with these ponies. Some of them turned me away as soon as they saw me. They can tell immediately that you don't belong, and they don't like outsiders.
>But a few were nice. They invited me in to their 'hollers', little pocket communities tucked against the mountains. They would feed me, give me drink, and set me on the porch for a song."
>"In a dusty old barn, I sat around with a family sharing home brewed whiskey. Here is where I heard one of the saddest things of my life."
>"Even just simple music, with no lyrics, can fill your heart with joy. This one is from the same dusty barn, after a little more whiskey."
>"Thank you for listening and I hope you've enjoyed this glimpse into a strange and beautiful culture. We want to leave you with one last story. Guess you could call it our 'last' story.
>Thank yo again, and goodnight everypony!"
>Graduation day at Octavia's school for Gifted Musicians.
>All of the parent's and family of the student's, as well as the entire population of Ponyville, and half of Canterlot, are packed onto the school grounds.
>This is one of the biggest concerts of the year. That's one of the best things about these ponies. They take a lot of pride in their children.
>There are stages set up everywhere. Any type of music you can think of is being played on one or another. From classic to jazz-fusion, from polka to rock and roll. There is even a stage playing some of the Mountain Music Tavi learned on her trip, and another with some weird zebra music.
>This is your favorite part of the year. You soak in everything as you wander from stage to stage. You spot the CMC's gearing up and you wander over. They're wearing some strange costumes...when the start to play you understand why.
>Huh...now where did they learn that.
"Good job girls!" you wave as you wander off to the next stage.
>On another stage is Snips and Snails...with...is that a jeep? This should be interesting.
>You give them two thumbs up as you head for the next stage. You pass through a magical sound barrier on the way, blocking out the noise from around you so all you hear is the stage.
>Nice.
>One more before you have to go find Tavi for the closing ceremony.
>This is one of your classes. You always let them pick their songs and encourage them to work on their own, offering help when needed. They always succeed.
>You cheer and clap with the rest of the crowd. Pride for your student's fills your heart almost as much as Octavia does...almost.
>You are Anon. Laying on the floor in front of the fireplace, propped up against the sofa. A light blanket covers your legs as you stare into the fire.
>Frank Sinatra plays quietly on the stereo.
>Octavia appears beside you, setting down a tray with two glasses and a bottle of scotch.
>You grab the bottle and pour her a glass as she settles down beside you. Handing it to her when she is comfortably pressed against your side.
>You pour yourself a glass and set the bottle aside, putting your arm around the grey mare,
>She sighs contentedly, taking a sip of her drink.
"So, how was your day?"
>"Same ol' stuff." Tavi answers. "I got a letter from Constance today. She wants to talk to us about doing a fundraiser or something for the orphanage in Canterlot. Apparently they have more foal's than is normal for some reason and they are getting strapped for bits."
>You take a sip of your scotch, savoring the taste as a new song starts to play.
https://youtu.be/mQR0bXO_yI8 "What could possibly cause an increase in orphaned foals in this kingdom?" you ask.
>"I have no idea, but I'd like to help." Octavia looks up at you, as if to ask 'don't you?'
>You scratch behind her ears, causing her to sigh again.
"Of coarse we will help. Whatever they need, I'm there."
>She lays her head down against your chest and closes her eyes. "I know you will, that's why I love you so much."
>You smile as you take another drink.
>Thin shimmering streaks filtered through the curtains, adorning the bed where a sleeping pony lay.
>Steadily they climbed, like determined ivy, until the mare's eyes took offense.
>Twitching her eyes open, she stretched her extremities with a mewling yawn.
>Rolling over, she eyed the calendar hanging on the wall, a grin forming on examining the marked days.
>No rehearsals or shows what soever.
>She wouldn't have to even touch her instrument for two whole weeks.
>Of course she still planned to play for fun and to stay in form, but that was for later.
>Today was for lazing about.
>Rolling onto her back with a content hum, she adjust her position so the the golden rays passed her by.
>Even her flatmate was gone for the week on a tour.
>Not that she didn't adore her long time friend, just that her choice of music didn't really help in the relaxation department.
>For the time being she'd enjoy her peace and knock knock knock.
>The mare groaned. Who in the bloody moon could that be?
>Perhaps if she ignored it it will knock knock knock.
>With a disgruntled huff she raised up.
>Grabbing a fuchsia robe from a nearby stand, she scooted off the bed and donned it to hide her morning dishevelment.
>Trotting through her home, she paused at her door to erase the annoyance from her expression.
>Pushing the door open, she blinked in surprise when she saw nothing but the hillside view of town.
>It took a moment for something at the edge of her vision grab her attention.
>The mare looked down, her lower lip unhinging at the site that greeted her.
>Even with the parchment that was held in her mouth obscuring her face, there was no mistaking her.
>Really, the bows were a dead giveaway.
>For whatever reason, her younger sister was at her doorstep, and judging by the saddlebags and carry-on next to her, this wasn't a simple social call.
>The mare gnawed slightly on her lip as she took the letter from her visitor.
>Unfolding it, a quick examination confirmed her suspicions.
>'Dear Octavia,' it read, 'I've taken a trip to Prance. Be back in a week or so, do look after your sister til I return, I know your not busy. Mother'
>Octavia rolled her eyes. This was so typical.
>What made her mother assume she wasn't busy anyhow?
>Honestly she wondered if the old nag was constantly spying on her, mother always seemed to know her schedule more than she did.
>And naturally she dumped the responsibility of looking after Symphonia on her for the sake of her own fancy.
>Octavia let out a sigh.
>Mother will be mother, after all. No helping it.
>She looked at the filly still sitting patiently in front of her.
>Her sister quietly observed her, remaining still and poised, as was only proper.
>Though not even unflappable Trottingham manners could stop the subtle swishing of her tail, betraying her barely contained excitement.
>Despite her aggravation, a reserved smile crept up Octavia's mouth.
>There were certainly worse things than spending some time with her sister, after all.
"Well, come along, then. Bring your things inside."
>Symphonia perked up, beaming at her older sister. "Okay!"
>She grabbed the handle of her little suitcase with her hoof and rolled it through the doorway.
>"Where should I put my affects, big sister?"
"My friend is away for the time being, so you can use her room for now. It's on the right."
>The filly nodded and promptly made her way to the designated room.
>Octavia, meanwhile, made her was to the washroom. She called out to her sister as she went in.
"Have you eaten?"
>"I had some trail mix on the train ride over," she called back, "but I could do with a proper meal. I imagine you could as well."
"Indeed."
>Octavia went about fixing herself up,
>In the middle of brushing her hair, a familiar aroma reach her nose.
>She perked up, quickly setting her brush down.
"Could that be-?
>Rushing to the kitchen, she found Symphonia holding a pan in her mouth over a lit furnace.
>She gave the contents a few shakes before setting it on the table.
>"Good timing! It's ready."
"You can cook now?"
>"Yup!" The filly smiled ear to ear. "I started learning a little while ago."
>Octavia snickered.
"And to think the last time I saw you you couldn't make toast without burning it."
>Symphonia stuck out her tongue, a rather uncouth gesture, but permitable for somepony her age.
>She scooped out the contents with a spoon on two separate plates.
>"I made your favorite, buckwheat and blueberries."
>Octavia gave her plate a sniff and hummed in approval.
"Mmm, you even remembered the molasses."
>"And the nutmeg!" she adds proudly. Just like dad...used...to..."
>Her voice trails off as her expression falters, her gaze drifting to the floor.
>Octavia gives her a sympathetic look, going around the table and gently wrapping a foreleg around her.
>She leans her head into Octavia's chest, the older sister stroking her mane with her free hoof.
>"I miss him."
"I know, dear. I do to."
>Symphonia looked at her sister's face.
>"I've been having trouble remembering him lately. What he sounded like, what he smelt like."
>Octavia was taken aback, but quickly composed herself.
"Well now, that won't do at all!"
>Octavia released her, turning and exiting the kitchen.
>Symphonia looked puzzled as her sister returned carrying case on her back.
>Octavia set it down and undid the latch, lifting the cello out of it and propping it up.
"Perhaps this will jog your memory.
>"What will?"
>Octavia grasped the wand and raised up.
"This is a piece he made just after you were born. It consists entirely of the notes that you liked."
>She then began to play. The melodies filled the room as Symphonia's eyes grew wide.
>Octavia became lost in the music for some time, as she often did.
>When she eventually checked on her sister, she was startled at seeing tears streaming down her cheeks.
"Symphonia!"
>Octavia set her instrument down roughly and rushed over to her sister, taking hold of her shoulder.
"Symphonia, are you alright, dear?"
>The filly sniffled and wiped her eyes. "I'm fine." she insisted.
>Octavia breathed a sigh of relief. She brushed her sister's cheek gently.
"So, did that help you remember?"
>Symphonia sniffed one last time and smiled. "Mm, it did. Thank you."
>Octavia grinned and pulled her into an embrace.
"My pleasure."
>She kissed the top of her head and nuzzled her chin against it.
"Now come on, breakfast is getting cold."
>You are Octavia.
>And everything was going so well for you until the weird smooth alien landed on your back.
>You had just got done working on a new cello piece for an upcomming performance in Manehattan and was on your way home to grab a bite to eat, when you heard a whoosh followed by a very loud scream.
>You looked up to identify what was screaming, to find a bizzare looking creature falling right towards you.
>With to little time to react you simply planted your whoves in and braced for impact.
>The thing landed on you back at a speed that was not conducive to a safe landing.
>The collsion caused your legs to buckle and the two of you to be layed out on the ground.
>Thankfully there was thick grass underneath you to help soften the blow but it still hurt.
>Whatever it was that landed on you got up and brushed itself off with its strange apendages.
>"Oh God what a fall. I thought for sure I was a goner."
>The voice was unmistakeably male, although i more than cursory glance could have told you that.
>He was tall, had modestly built muscles and gave off an air of extreme confidence, like he was at ease no matter where he was.
"Well, considering the fact that you landed on me like I was a plump pillow, I'm not surprised you are unharmed."
>The amount of venom in that statement was a little higher than you had intended, but you really did hurt.
>Your comment drew his attention away from his surroundings and onto you.
>He gave you a probing gaze, like he was trying to puzzle out some great mystery.
>"I'm sorry for the surprise and shock, I wasn't expecting anything like this to happen."
>You could hear and see the sincerity in hi voice and eyes so you could tell he wasn't lying, but that still left a lot of questions.
"I will forgive you for landing on me if you help me up and tell me who and what you are."
>He smirked a crooked, jagged line of amusement that sent a trill of alarm down your spine.
>"I suppose thats the least I can do since I damn near crushed you... speaking of, are you hurt?"
>You moved all of your limbs and noted there were no broken bones or torn muscles, although they were sore.
"Not badly I think, nothing a few days of rest wont fix."
>He nodded, "Good, now to answer your questions, My name is Anonymous but all my friends call me Anon. As for what I am, we called ourselves humans, basically a race of intelligent evolved monkeys, and now that you know that lets get you up and at em."
>His descriptions raised more questions than it actually answered but it would suffice for now.
>Using those strange appendages he lifted you off the ground and set you back down on all fours.
>It hurt to stand but no more so than a long day of running errands and practicing for a perforrmance.
"Thank you for the assistance, I suppose I should tell you my name since you told me yours, my name is Octavia Melody, but feel free to call me Octavia, it's a pleasure to make your aquaintance."
>He smirked again, "Same, although usually when I make a new friend it involes less pain and is, usually, less invasive."
>His remark was pithy enough to earn a light chuckle from you.
>So he was polite and had a decent sense of humor, that put him head and shoulders above the average colt.
"Anyway, how did you end up here? I have never seen anypony like you, I would surely remember."
>He looked up, like he was expecting to see something but looked back down almost immediatly, "I'm not sure you would belive me even if I told you."
"I just had a creature I have never seen before or even imagined could exist land on my bac and send the two of us sprawling... try me.
>A full on laugh excaped from Anon and he replied, "Ok, fair enough, but dont say I didn't warn you it would see impossible."
>"Oh, are you sure we have everything? You have money?"
"Of course. You already checked like five times, Tavi."
>The mare pauses and composes herself.
>"Sorry, Anon, I'm just really excited for this performance and I wouldn't want to spoil the experience by remembering we left a window open halfway through the second movement!"
>You push Octavia out the front door and into the awaiting carriage.
>She looks up at you, flustered, but with a little excited smile on her face.
"So... what's so special about this concert?"
>"You're joking, I hope! The Fillydelphia Fillyharmonic Orchestra! They're possibly the greatest in Equestria! Oh, it's my dream to play with them someday."
>You look through the little pamphlet she gave you.
"So, uh, what's the piece again?"
>"Trotmeir's 4th! In A flat minor!"
>Your face is blank.
>"Goodness, Anonymous, you're surely not saying you've never heard of Trotmeir? Horseshoe Symphony? Violin concerto in E major?"
>She rolls her eyes and laughs to herself.
>"It seems I have some educating to do. By the time I'm finished with you you'll know your Manezart from your Beethoofen."
>As the carriage begins to depart Octavia snuggles into you, holding you close as you both watch the nighttime scenery pass by the window.
--- STORY 20 --- “Blast it!”
>You throw your bow down to the ground in frustration, breaking it in two.
>The rest of your orchestra mates look on in concern, as you release pony-related expletives.
>You are Equestria’s top Cello player, Octavia Melody, and you’re in a rut, and not the bloody grand, shagging type.
>”Take 10. I’ll talk to her.”
>The pianist “Lowe key” sends the Harp, and Tuba players away on break, while you light up a dandelion cigarette.
>He slowly trots over, cautiously.
>”Octavia. Are you okay?”
“What does it bloody look like?!”
>Your tone makes him whimper, pathetically.
>”Wha-what’s the problem? That’s the fifth bow this week.”
“You think I don’t know that? They’re my bows!”
>You flick the ash onto the stage, much to Lowe’s disapproval.
>You groan, closing your eyes.
“Look. I’ve a lot on my mind. For one, this routine.”
>”Our routine? What’s wrong with it?”
“Nothing!”
>He looks at you quizzically.
“That’s the bloody problem! It’s so perfect, and by the bloody books! There’s nothing exciting about it! It’s just the same old Gala music, over and over, and I’m tired of it!”
>Lowe averts his gaze.
>”I didn’t know you felt this way.”
>You sigh, and shrug.
“I guess breaking my Cello bows was a poor way to express my opinion.”
>The others are slow to return at first; for obvious reasons.
>”Alright guys, gather up.”
>Lowe waves them over.
>”I had a chat with Octavia, and she feels that our routine isn’t good anymore.”
“Now just a bloody minute! I didn’t say-“
>The Tuba player “Blow Hard” purses her lips in disagreement.
>”What? What’s wrong with it? It’s perfect!”
“I know that! It’s just-“
>The Harp pony “Soft Chords” interjects.
>”All due respect, you’re the CELLO player. Your part isn’t that big.”
>Don’t say “all due respect “ and then disrespect you in the same breath.
“Pardon me? Would you like to say that again?”
>Your hair stands up in quickly rising fury, making him retreat behind Blow Hard.
>”What are you trying to say? Do you want to ditch the routine? You know that the Gala is only three weeks away!”
>She chimes in, with a trembling Harp player behind her.
“ I think something new, and refreshing would reinvigorate us, and our playing-“
>”OUR playing doesn’t need to be “reinvigorated”. We’re not breaking our equipment in silly filly temper tantrums!”
“Temper tantrums?! This is the natural reaction for a musician stuck at the same point in their career! How can anypony who practices the fine art of Music, ever be happy playing the same song over, and over be content?!”
>Blow Hard is unflinching as she meets your hard glare. The other two are looking away, refusing to meet your gaze.
“Is nopony going to say anything?”
>Just silence. Silence, and the stage.
>”I have something to say.”
>Blow Hard raises a hoof.
>”What is it?”
>Lowe finally speaks up now?
>”How long have we been dealing with Octavia’s Diva-like foalish attitude? She acts like she’s a superstar just because she hangs out with that mute DJ!”
“I do no such thing!”
>”She’s just a cello player. We can easily get another one, who doesn’t complain as much, doesn’t break their equipment, and most certainly doesn’t smoke, Lowe.”
>You narrow your eyes, putting your smoke out on your hoof.
>Are you hearing this right?! Is she suggesting-
“Just because, I’m tired of the same song, that means I’m a diva? A troublemaker?!”
>”And what would you suggest we play? The “pony pokey”?”
>The mare flashes a smug smirk. Sweet chuckles, but one look shuts him up.
>Lowe puts a hoof to his chin in thought. Is he really considering-?
>”Let’s put it to a vote, I say!”
“And pray tell what are we voting upon?”
>”Whether you leave or stay!”
“WHAT?!”
>You can’t believe this is happening. Sure, you made it clear you were dissatisfied with how things were going, but only because you felt it could be better.
“This is absolutely mad! I complain not because it’s a jolly time for me! It’s because we have the skill to be amazing! Why can’t you see that?”
>”We’re ALREADY the best, and will continue to be great with it without a cello player. I vote she goes. Sweet? Lowe?”
>You look at Lowe who’s looking down at the wooden stage floor.
>”M-me too! She’s scary!”
>Sweet raises his hoof.
>Everyone looks at Lowe expectantly.
>”You’re band leader, Lowe. Your vote counts double. No pressure though.”
>He meekly looks at you, before slowly raising his hoof.
“Lowe...!”
>”Sorry Octavia...”
>Your heart falls to the bottom of your hooves, and shatters into pieces.
>You can’t believe what’s happening to you right now. This feeling of betrayal-this HURT.
“I-you-Why me...”
>Emotions swirl where your heart once was. It’s almost unbearable.
>You rip your bow tie off, and toss it to the ground, and gallop away, not wanting them to see you cry.
>Was your desire to try something new really so bad? To explore new possibilities, and evolve and grow as a team?
>How could they? How could Lowe?! They’re all fools! Bloody dunderheaded fools!
>You burst through the concert hall doors onto the darkened dirt roads of Ponyville, feeling chilly night air blowing onto your hot upset skin.
>The moon is shining down on you, almost like it’s mocking you in a way.
>You remember how hard you practiced, and studied to become a master of the Cello. The joy you felt when they accepted you into the band. All the concerts you played together. The same song over and over and over again. How it wore on you after the eighth year-
>This is the thanks you get? Dedicated service without question until now, and they just toss you out on your bum-
>The tears fall freely down your cheeks, as you run, not even knowing where to. You just gallop.
>You are Octavia and today was supposed to be the best day of your life
>Why? Because today you were getting married to your soon-to-be husband Anon
>Why isn't it anymore? Because those TWAT secretaries or whatever they're called "messed up" your paperwork
>Yes you had joined up with the royal guard, for the benefits and money
>Orchestras don't pay their musicians as much as the fancy getup and grand music halls would have you believe
>But you had joined as a member of the BAND, NOT AS A DAMN GUARDSPONY
>You told them again and again that your name wasn't "Gaius Octavius" (what a weird pony name) but they weren't having any of it as some ponies in the office confirmed your false identity stating they had seen you during basic training in Appleloosa
>So instead of getting married to the love of your life, you are standing in one of the many halls of the Canterlot Palace
>Could this day get any worse
>As it turns out, it very well could
>While you were lost in your thoughts recounting the day's events you hadn't noticed that it had started to rain
>It wouldn't have been a problem in and of itself if the roof didn't have a leak right above where you were standing, which it did
>You didn't even notice it though as your mind was still thinking about what today was and what it could have been
>You only became aware of it once you heard the clip-clopping of hooves on floor at which point you snapped to attention, wait you're not a guardspony why are you at attention was this even attention
>You heard the hoofsteps getting closer and saw a unicorn guard approaching you in your periphery
>You would think it an odd sight to see a mare drenched in water standing at attention as water was still pouring on her head and the guard’s face reflected that
>”Wow, good job private”
“...”
>The stallion’s voice doesn’t seem to carry any sarcasm and he seems to be genuinely surprised
>”The newbies’ll usually move from where they’re getting soaked but you followed the orders to a T”
“I-I’m sorry but I don’t seem to understa-”
>”You remember in the briefing this morning while you were being issued your armor?”
>You think back to this morning and draw a blank, you’ve been way to focused on the events at hoof, or what should have been at hoof, but you nod your head making a face like you remembered
>”There ya go, ‘Don’t move an inch unless it’s for the safety of the princess’ and you passed the test with flying colors”
“Wha- a test?”
>”Of course, we do this with everyone on their first day. What is your name private?”
“Octavia Melody”
>”You sure your name isn’t Octavius, cause I think some guardsponies downstairs were telling me about you”
“No, it isn’t” there was a fire building inside your chest, you swear the next pony to call you Octavius was going to get a hoof to the face
>”Well Octavia or Octavius you did a real good job here, I wasn’t really expecting anypony to actually do it so I’m kinda stumped what to do here”
>It takes every ounce of your strength not to sock him in the mouth
“You could at the very least let me dry off”
>”Great idea private” he says as he salutes, “I hereby relieve you of your duties for half an hour to make yourself presentable and have the ponies in the armory reissue you plates, those look way too big on you”
>He stands there saluting like he’s waiting for something, so you take a guess and salute him back
>He drops his salute and walks off while you head back towards the armory
>Now was it this hall or that one
>Through luck or fortune, you managed to integrate yourself into the pony society you found yourself in. Sporting an entire foreign culture to them, your contributions in blueprints, music, art, mathematics etc. earned you acceptance. Some Canterpones even went so far as to not be dicks to you, which was fantastic given the snobby standards of the city.
>But for all of the hostility you receive for being the 2.0 of apes, there’s one place that was willing to take you day one - The Canterlot Orchestra, after hearing your not that impressive rendition of Clair De Lune.
>It had been a long, long time since you’d played the piano, back when you lived in a world that made sense, and even then you were only casually off and on. Since then, you had become rusty but even at your lowest of talent, the room was stunned by your ability to perform the piano.
>Why did they even bother making this instrument if their hooves can’t play the darn thing and the unicorns can’t multitask all the notes?
>But you digress, in your aimless self-reflection, that such piano-playing abilities took the orchestra by storm and they wanted you to be taught proper theory by the best they had, seeing infinite potential in your digits.
>After all the chaos that ensued upon your unexpected arrival, you’re glad to finally feel situated. You had a job. The orchestra director was even willing to invest in you. So here you stood, in front of 3724 #213 Westtroot Hoof, prepared to receive your first formal music lesson of your life from what they claimed to be their best musician, a Miss Octavia, whom you’ve never so much as seen in your life.
>Taking a second to prepare yourself to make a good impression, you give the door to 213 a good three knocks.
>From behind the door, you could hear a second of shuffling before a muffled ”Ah, yes. Come in Mr. Anonymous” reverberated to you.
>Taking the hint, you slowly open the door and find yourself struck with what could best be compared to as new car smell. Not quite the colorful scents you usually encounter in the pastel pony world but frankly, that made it all the more refreshing. The room… wow, music ahoy. Hardly any furniture, save the kitchen appliances, but this mare hung up photos of concert halls and instruments as if her life depended on it. It seemed as if she was resolved to cover every inch of wall with something to do with music, even hanging a violin and harp with some kind of audio cord encircling it. Not your typical decoration, even for the mad pony standards you’ve given up on challenging.
>And in the far stretches of the apartment, there she sat, cello on standby with an upright black piano pushed against the wall. Not quite what you were expecting, a cellist paired with a pianist. She adorned no more than a simple pink bow to heavily contrast her dark fur and black mane. It even seemed to underplay just how large and intimidating the cello she held that towered over her.
>And you’re ogling her. Great. Damage control.
“Sorry, kind of zoned out there. The apartment is lovely, Miss Octavia? Haven’t seen anything like it so far in my stay in Equestria.”
>”Mmhmm, and thank you, Mister Anonymous. Let’s not focus on formalities though, hmm? My superiors believe that you hold great potential which is why they’ve gone through such efforts to bring you here. While I understand their rationale, when I heard of what I was being tasked with, I was frankly horrified. Please, sit down and let me elaborate.”
>Unable to think of a proper response, you attempt to mask the concern on your face as you move to the piano bench. She inhales before continuing.
>”You see, Anonymous- is that alright of me? Calling you Anonymous? Anyhow, The Canterlot Orchestra has worked tirelessly to become a well-respected member of the music community. Only the best musicians of their craft obtain chairs with us, and I myself have spent my entire life training to get to where I am today. Oh, there’s so much to explain. Would you like anything?
Uhhhhhhhhhh. No, no I’m good. Please uh, please continue then. “Right then, and I’m sorry if this is putting you down but I can’t stress how important the sentiment I’m working towards truly is. You see, for all of the talent in our orchestra, honed in through a lifetime of practice, there’s… well, you. These hands of yours, as I’ve been told to refer to them as, they introduce potential we’ve never had before. Up until now, your instrument has been used as a tool of teaching scales and theory but due to, well, our anatomy, the piano has never seen professional usage. At best, it’s been utilized by the unicorns, a couple notes at a time, but even amongst them they’ve never managed to produce a sound from it worth presenting to ponies in live concert. Now these hands of yours, marvelous as they are, are untrained. And oh, surely I can at least provide a beverage? Tea? Wine?
>You could imagine where this was going and decided the latter sounded marvelous.
Yes then, please. What kind of wines are you sporting?
>”See, right there. Sloppy. I’m sorry I keep pressing on you but for all the potential, our orchestra is nothing short perfection while you, in all of your lack of knowledge and training, would be so foolish as to imbibe when you’re about to perform. When training the mind, one doesn’t simply inebriate it into stupidity. There’s no sense to that. Now look Anonymous, if that’s acceptable for me to say, I think we’re both doomed in this task before we even start. We hold nothing short of the highest standards for our orchestra and in order for this to work, we’re going to need to not only teach you of our ways but have you accell in them, which all but a few fall short in. What they’ve asked of me, to train a complete novice to our level, is an outlandish request and if we have any hope of achieving it, I need you to give me absolutely everything you’ve got. None of this self-proclaimed casual player nonsense. No excuses. No settling. No rationalizations. I need an insatiable, unyielding fire in you to accept nothing but perfection and I need you to keep that fire burning every single day for as long as it takes to get you to where we need you to be. And believe me, that’s asking a lot. Something only a select few can attain. If this isn’t something you’re truly willing to fight for, Mister Anonymous, then I need you to get out now, for both our sakes. And I’m sorry for putting you on the spot with such a commitment, truly, but that’s the level of commitment we demand. So take a minute, digest what I’ve told you, and I’ll go make us some tea. If you’re going to agree to it all, you’ll learn to love tea, rest assured. The small things.”
>She arises, positioning her cello to rest on her seat and turns back to you, a smile just edging on her form.
>”Unless you’ll be having wine, that is.”
>Grasping onto any conversation that isn't you signing away your life, you oblige her.
I think tea will do nicely, actually.
>She offers you nothing more than a short “perfect” before leaving you to your lonesome.
>You… you weren’t really against the idea or being a musician but it was just, you hadn't committed yourself to a career back in the real world, which seemed more and more like the fantasy as your days in Equestria rolled onward. For whatever reason, you were hoping that this job would be nothing more than casual which in retrospect seemed silly of you. Of course this highly acclaimed orchestra would want you to make an actual commitment to them and music, something you’ve never given before, and had a fear of.
>On one hoof, or hand, or whatever reality was anymore, these ponies were well off and if you aligned yourself by their side, you’d probably be set for life. Not only that but you could take this knowledge of things you never bothered to study before, scales and timbre and whatever Octavia had planned for you and apply it to your own solo works. Hell, maybe you could even attempt to get the directors to help you perform some classical and top 40s, orchestra by your side.
>Such an incredible opportunity and yet, were you really about to settle down so easily in an alien world? You wanted to explore, to learn of the mythologies and experience what this place had to offer. What happens if you grow old and regret having made this choice? What happens if this “fire” burns out and you wind up wasting everyone’s time.
>And then, as if she timed it herself, you could hear humming over the noises emanating from her humble kitchen. A foreign tune, something you couldn’t hope to name, and yet so beautiful that you could help but bask in its glory.
>It was always a fantasy of yours, one that you let go in trying to be realistic, to be a musician. Some kind of Adam Levine pop star that wasn’t as arrogant or annoying as Bieber. You never dared to amuse the notion, rationalizing your dreams as childish and unrealistic.
>But now you’re in a cartoon world; what is real now anyways? The piano is real. Her mysterious tune she’s humming, it’s real. This orchestra that wants is you real. You can only pray that this is all real and not some purgatory dream.
>She was saying something about rationalizations, that they were bad.
>It feels so wrong to even consider it.
>It feels so right.
>Oh god, she’s coming back.
>You can literally feel the sweat of your inner-crazy starting to bead on your head.
>A part of you wants to say yes so badly, to delve into this world of music you were always too afraid to commit to with her, and yet a part of you is afraid that any commitment you make will fall through; that the fire she desired would devolve into nothing more than a mere spark to be snuffed. That wasn’t going to be enough to satisfy either of you.
>Sitting down, she hooves you a mug of warm tea. You hadn’t tried tea before this moment, opting for Diet Coke in your own world or simple water in this one.
>Wanting to prolong any decision making, you opt for a swig of tea.
>Awful. Truly awful. Who in god’s name made this foul beverage? Maybe if they praised God over this Celestia figure, they wouldn’t have to endure this.
>Oh wait. Old world had tea. Crap.
>”What do you think? It’s my own mix, I’ll have you know.”
>For the first time, you take in her eyes as this pony gazes into yours. It’s as if Elizabeth Taylor and her trademark eyes had come to Equestria with you and transformed into a pony. Colorful eyes weren’t all that shocking to you at this point but what really pulled you in was the bullshit that people proclaim to see in the eyes. Just one look into her and you saw just how dedicated they were to this cause. You could see the fire illuminating her violet. It made you feel small.
Well, it’s awful if I can be so blunt. You certainly didn’t mind the formalities, right? Look… Octavia. Every single thought coursing through my veins is telling me that I can’t do this. What’s being asked of me is nothing like what I’ve done before and I’m not going to sit here and delude myself into thinking otherwise. Everything in my life has been spinning so quickly lately and I’m still struggling with the reality that I’m never going to see my loved ones again. I’ve always wanted to be a musician but I’ve always told myself that it’s unrealistic or that I’m too far behind the curve to get there. What I want to ask you is… is if it’s too late to try. Are we really doomed in this before we even started?
>You didn’t t want to come off so weak but frankly, you couldn’t conjure anything stronger in you. Commitment was your achilles heel.
>She sighs and makes to speak before you try one final time, cutting her off.
Can you help me? If I… if I give you this fire, if I go against my nature and trust you, can we do this? Would you help a perfect stranger like me to cheat all of the odds, if only I gave myself to you?
>Oh shit man what are you doing? That came out horribly wrong. Never speak from the gut again.
>Her gaze shifts from you to the piano and back as she soaks in your requests.
>You can’t help but chastise yourself for how horribly wrong this entire conversation has gone until she finally settles on a response.
>”Well, Anonymous, perhaps the odds aren’t as bad as I made them out to be. After all, we mustn't forget how impressive, if not unrefined, your current piano abilities already are in comparison to the rest of us. We have a saying that you can lead a pony to water but you can’t make her drink, you see. I’ve been asked and even will be paid for time spent tutoring you. Regardless, I’m glad to see that you took my little tangent seriously. I suppose what I’m trying to say is that there’s a balance between a teacher and a student and while I can help you as far as a teacher can, you must be the one to drink it all in. Furthermore, there are techniques left undiscovered to piano playing that we’re going to have to find out together in respect to your hands. So many stones to touch upon, so to speak. But yes, Anonymous, I’m willing to help you see through your innate piano abilities to their full realization, should you also be willing to embark on this journey together.
>She gets up, apparently having gone through her tea in your mullings, and retrieves your virtually full cup as well.
>As a realization strikes her, she turns back to you.
>”Oh, and it does get better, I assure you.”
The tea or the journey?
>Turning back around, she chuckles to herself and resumes her walk to her kitchen.
>As what you’ve come to accept as Celestia’s sun drops and Luna’s moon begins to illuminate the scroll lying in front of you, Octavia finally breaks off the study session of an indeterminable amount of time off.
>Your scroll is filled with things you’ve never once considered that have evidently shaped the music you’ve taken for granted your entire life. Layouts of major and minor scales. Details of half and whole steps on the piano that depict how to form them. Techniques for rapidly identifying scales in sheet music simply by determining how many sharps or flats are in the key signature. She called this day one.
>”Now as we’ve discussed, I’m giving you a day to master these scales and to be able to identify them in sheets. You’ll have access to the orchestra’s grand or my upright for practice but you’re getting paid to learn and I’m being paid to teach because the ones funding us expect results. Furthermore, you know when I’ll be available for any questions. Remember, as redundant as the foundations seemingly are, they’re here for a reason and if we’re to make a musician of you, you’re going to need every tool you can get.”
>Your head is spinning a mile a minute, still recovering by the rapidfire of material.
>”Well Anonymous, I believe that will do for tonight.”
>Painfully, you peel your sore limbs off the ground, scroll in hand.
>It’s one thing to say you’ll take the time but it’s another to actually do it. You’re absolutely dreading this.
>Taking in the sights and scents one final time, you begin to work your way to the door.
Well Octavia, this has certainly been an enlightening night. True to your word, you led me to water… or in this case, tea but I appreciate all your time all the same.
>But are you really going to drink? You’re already considering bailing out of this mess.
>She dismissively waves a hoof at you, looking half as exhausted from the night as you felt.
>”Think nothing of it. After all, I am being reimbursed for my time. Oh, and Anon?”
>Unable to resist, you turn and give her the attention she desires.
>Her infectious smile immediately strikes a chord.
>”Thank you for hearing me out, again. I know that I came on strong but surely you understand now why I did what I did. Good luck tomorrow, and I believe in you.”
>You can’t be bothered to question her sincerity. The warmth of the moment of too great to be overtaken by doubts.
>Inevitably, you’ll leave this room and your mind will begin to pick it all apart.
>Inevitably, the doubts and rationalizations will return to haunt you.
>But in this moment, you truly feel as if you’re truly where you want to be.
>A moment only as skilled an artist as Octavia can illustrate.
>Be--
>You don't know who you are actually.
>What happened to you--
>You were on a ship...you think.
>Was it a ship?
>You think you were on deck--
>Shit. This is important, but the waves...
>The waves..The sound...
>It's drowning everything out.
>Deja vu.
>You open your eyes to a brightly beaming sun, and the sound of seagulls overhead.
>You look left, and right with heavy drooped eyes.
“Ugh...it's too bright..
>”Oh, are you awake?”
“Ahh...Ugh...!”
>”Are you okay?”
>Your sights set on a--
>It's a horse.
>A horse with a pink bow tie, and concerned eyes.
>”Can you hear me? How many hooves am I holding up?”
>Oddly enough, this isn't the weirdest thing, you've seen before, though it is still quite startling.
“EAAAAAYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAHHHH--”
>After a solid half-hour of screaming, you've finally settled down. And by that you mean, you ran out of breath.
>The gray horse sat by patiently waiting for you to calm down, with annoyed eyes.
>You gasp, and heave holding your chest.
“Feel...like I'm gonna die...”
>”Well if you can scream like that for that long, I think you'll be just fine.”
>You shut your eyes, and pick yourself up off the wooden floor.
>Wooden floor?
>No..No it's just a piece of Flotsam you were laying upon.
>The gray horse watches, as you stand up, touching your throbbing head.
>”Well, you're fine, so that's a good thing.”
>You look around some more.
>A wrecked ship, lays wedged in some crag a little ways off in the water.
>There's more flotsam, and some mechanical parts laying nearby.
“Where am I?”
>The horse looks out at the shipwreck.
>”This is Cleveland Bay. You were lying on the sand, unconscious.”
“Cleve..land Bay?”
>She nods.
>”Just rest for a bit. I was just packing up to go back home.”
>She trots through the sand to a large string instrument, standing up against a rock.
>Shipwrecks, and talking horses. It's official. You're in the Twilight zone.
>You stroll around the beach, taking in the sights, and trying to walk the aches in your body off.
>There's a lot to see around here.
>If there wasn't so much shit around, it'd be a beautiful place, but then again, that's not exactly her fault.
>You wander back over to the sentient horse.
“So... Uh.. What were you doing here?”
>She looks up at you with a smile.
>”I come here to practice sometimes, and get away from the hustle, and loud bustle of the city. The waves, and seagulls my only audience.”
“That was poetic.”
>”I try.”
>You smile back.
>”My name is Octavia. Octavia Melody. How about you?”
>Your name...
“Er..My name is..”
>You're interrupted by a loud explosion emanating from far off.
>You, and Octavia both jump at the roaring boom, and immediately snap your heads to the source.
>Two dragons soar through the skies, overhead--
>Dragons?!
>They're fighting with each other.
>One is holding something shiny in it's claws, as the other hocks exploding fireballs at it.
>A stray one misses the fleeing dragon, and crashes into the mountainside, bringing down a large chunk of sediment into the beach entrance.
>”No!”
>Octavia rushes over to the blocked entryway, with a look of despair on her face.
>”Blasted dragons! Now what do I do?!”
>She brings both of her forelegs to her face.
>You wonder if there are more horses like her.
>”At this rate, I'm gonna miss my performance!”
“Performance?”
>”Is there a parrot here?!”
>You flinch from her frustrated tone.
>”I have a concert today! I came here to get some practice in before I went, and now thanks to those overgrown cold-blooded flying geckos, I may not make it! This is the only way in!”
“Yowch.”
>She starts pacing around worriedly.
>You put a hand to your chin.
“Well, let's find another way then.”
>Her head snaps to you.
>”Another way? Do you mean to scale the rock wall? Or maybe you have superpony strength?”
“I don-”
>”I was being sarcastic!”
>Wow. Someone needs a snickers.
“Look, let's just look around. Maybe we'll find something.”
>She waves you off.
>”Fine. Okay. Let's look, no matter how futile it is.”
“Way to keep up morale there Tavi.”
>She scowls.
>”Don't call me “Tavi”.”
>You wonder what happened to that sweet-natured horse from a few minutes ago.
>Well, you'd be pissed too if you were suddenly trapped on a beach with no way off, and you had to perform that day.
>You can't really blame her, you guess.
>You the two of you begin walking the beach looking for any sign of escape.
>”Look there. A shack.”
>She points a hoof to a rundown rotted wooden beach shanty.
“What do you think, we'll find in there?”
>”Not what. Who. If there's a house here, surely there's a pony who's inhabiting it! Maybe they'll be able to help!”
“Certainly worth a shot.”
>You both jog over to the shack.
>You knock on the do-
>It falls apart at your touch.
>Octavia gasps.
“No one is living here anymore, I'd have to say.”
>”What's your first clue?”
>She looks around the musty old shack.
>”I suppose any rope of something was too much to ask.”
>She sighs, and leaves the shack, looking even more depressed than before.
>You follow the upset horse back out to the beach.
>She's looking out to the ocean, with a sad expression.
“Hey..you okay?”
>”No.”
>You put your hands into your pockets.
“We'll find a way out of here.”
>She snorts.
>”I admire your optimism, but that can only go so far sometimes. By the time anypony comes looking for me, the concert will have ended.”
>Such doom, and gloom.
>She sits on her haunches, and sighs, her ears flopping down to the sides of her face.
>You curl your mouth, and look around.
“What's that?”
>A large biped mechanical object is standing in the water, just under the rack hill you, and Octavia are perched upon.
>It looks pretty old, judging from its appearance.
>”What's what?”
>She moves to your side, scanning the machine as well.
>”What IS that thing? It looks like a small train!”
>A train? You wouldn't go that far. More like an automobile with legs, and arms.
“Let's get in it.”
>She looks at you incredulously.
>”Did that shipwreck make you insane?! That thing is dangerous! I'm not getting into that!”
>You roll your eyes, as Octavia takes a few steps back.
“Just get in, and stop being a baby, gray horse lady. This may be our golden ticket out of here.”
>She turns up her nose.
>”I am not a horse! I am a pony!”
>Same difference.
>You step onto the back of it, and inspect the interior.
>It looks like it controls like a car.
>Do you have a license?
>Octavia watches with cautious interest, as you climb into the seat.
>You notice a button near the steering wheel, and you press it.
>After a loud startup cycle, the machine comes to life, and hums silently.
“It works! Sweet!”
>Octavia is still looking on curiously.
>You look back at her.
“Come on. Get in.”
>She bites her bottom lip.
>”Is-is it safe?”
>You groan.
“Just get in! Damn!”
>”No need to be rude! I just want to know that I'm not risking my life just for heedlessly!”
“I'm fine aren't I? Just get in!”
>”Hrrmmm...”
>She takes a foreleg, and pokes the mechanical construct a few times, before stepping onto it.
>She shakily walks across its back, and steps into the seat joining you.
“Now was that so hard?”
>”Yes. And it reeks.”
“Builds character.”
>She rolls her eyes.
>You mess around with the controls, trying to get a feel for the vehicle.
>”You don't know what you're doing?”
“Nope.”
>Octavia watches as you pull various levers, and knobs.
>”Then maybe you should stop fiddling with things you know nothing about?”
>She gives you a condescending smile.
“Check that glovebox for a manual, or something would you?”
>”A glove what? I don't see any gloves, or boxes!”
>Is she serious?
>You look down at her hand--
>Right. Hooves.
>You lean over, and press a button in front of her.
>A small compartment opens up, revealing a ripped, and worn manual.
>”Oh. That's a glove box? Where's the gloves?”
>You grab the book, ignoring her question.
“Hm. “Driving the Earl Gray II”.”
>You give the book a quick scanning.
>”So can you handle it?”
>You close it up.
“Yeah. Maybe.”
>”That doesn't fill me with confidence.”
“It'll be fine, it'll be fine.”
>She puts her hooves in her face.
>”Your attitude reminds me of another irritating, happy-go-lucky, slacker I know! How cursed am I?”
>You start moving forward.
“Well I wouldn't say you're cursed! I'm the guy who's going to get you to your performance on time after all.”
>”We shall see.”
>She sits back, and crosses her legs.
>So far, things seem to be going smoothly. The controls flow seamlessly, as if they were made for your hands.
>You head towards the boulder blocking the entrance.
>”Wait!”
>You stop the machine, and look over to your driving companion.
“What now?”
>”My cello! We need to get my cello!”
“That big guitar? Sure.”
>You turn the machine around.
>Octavia hits your arm.
>”It's a cello! Not some paltry guitar! Have some respect you--”
>She stops for a second, as you head to her instrument, laying in its case against the rock from earlier.
>”What is your name anyway?”
>You stop the machine, and climb out of it.
>That's the next problem.
>You don't know your name exactly.
>You hoist the surprisingly light instrument over your shoulder, and climb back into the machine.
>”Be careful...He's delicate.”
“You gave your cello a gender?”
>”I did. So?”
>You chuckle.
>”What's so funny?”
“Nothing. It's just cute.”
>She turns red in the face, and looks away.
>”Don't be so crude. Can w-we go now?”
>You smirk, and start the machine back up.
>You retake your position back at the entryway.
“Okay. The manual said this thing can lift up to seven tons. Let's pick up this boulder, and get going.”
>Octavia motions for you to go on.
>You nod, and pull a couple levers.
>The machine's arms reach out, and grab the boulder with loud screeching clanks.
“Success!”
>”Lift it, and let's go! I'm gonna be late!”
>With little effort the boulder is dead lifted by the vehicle, and thrown off to the side.
>A boom like earlier rings out, as a cloud of sand flies out in all directions.
>Octavia fans herself off, spitting off to the side.
>”Careful! Ptthoo!”
“Builds character!”
>”Just go.”
>You chuckle again, and the two of you set off down the path from the beach.
>You don't say anything to each other, allowing only the loud automated footsteps of the machine fill the space between you.
>”So... I forgot to give you something.”
>What's this?
>She reaches into her collar, and hands... Hooves over a silver harmonica to you.
>”I found it next to your body on the beach.”
“Don't say “Body” like I was dead or something.”
>You gingerly take the instrument from her, and look it over.
>On one side of it, it says “Anonymous”.
>”So, you never told me your name?”
>On a whim you blather out the first thing to come to mind.
“Anonymous.”
>”Anonymous?”
>You nod.
>She puts a hoof to her chin.
>”That's an odd name. But, then again I know ponies with stranger names.”
>Anonymous.
>It sounds right.
>But, a bacon sandwich with one pound of hamburger meat, and deep fried in oil, and injected with cheese, and ranch sounds right too.
>She lowers her head.
>”About back on the beach..”
>You turn to her.
>”I just wanted to say, I'm sorry. I got frustrated, and I took it out on you..I'm not really that bad I promise.”
>You wave her off.
>You wave her off.
“No harm done. It was a tense, and seemingly hopeless situation.”
>She smiles meekly at you, and brushes some of her black mane from her eyes.
>”Y-yes. I suppose it was.”
>She looks away smiling with lowered eyes, as the wind makes her mane rustle.
>”So... Reintroductions?”
>You stop the machine, and look at her.
“Reintroductions?”
>She holds a hoof out to you.
>”My name is Octavia Melody. I play the cello for a four pony ensemble in places like Canterlot, and Manehatten.”
“I don't know what any of those places are, but I'm Anonymous. I'm a human.”
>You take her hoof, and give it a couple shakes.
>There's much you still don't know yet.
>How you know how to drive this vehicle... Robot...Thing.
>How you came to this land of talking hors--
>Ponies.
>Those are questions you're going to have to find out on your own, but you know one thing for sure.
>This pony, Octavia... You get the feeling, she'll be there with you every step of the way.
>Hopefully.
>Be anon
>3 months ago, the dimensional rift carried you off to... Well, wherever this is.
>The bizarre cartoon-esque ponies say you're in Equestria, some kind of utopian autocracy.
>Whatever
>In the three months you've been here, you've almost gotten used to the idea
>You find yourself worrying about your family, friends... You're sure the hunt for your body would still be ongoing. It keeps you up at night occasionally.
>of course, what really causes you to lose sleep is... Her.
>Someone you've lost, back in your world. The girl of your dreams... Maybe your soulmate, if you believed in that sort of thing.
>At any rat, you've lost her. Long before your little journey, and even thinking about why is nigh unbearable.
>And so you live with these ponies, try to forget, and make an attempt at your new life.
>Which, as things turn out, is going pretty damned well. All things considered.
>You've picked up a job at a local blacksmith: you're height makes you a prime candidate for some hard labour
>you don't mind, of course. The work keeps you distracted, and the locals are more than friendly.
>It's a Monday afternoon, and you've just finished work.
>A long day, but it puts bits in your pocket.
>Some things never change... Thinking back, you figure that you'd be just getting back into your apartment about now...
"Stop it Anon"
>You catch yourself muttering aloud, drawing a curious glance from the yellow pony nearby.
>Ypu give a weary smile and wave cheerily, trying your best to look as nonchalant as possible.
>You're not entirely sure it works.
>Fuck it, you just want to get home, to the only part of your old life you have left.
>You get back home to your sparsely furnished flat, throwing your leather apron on a nearby chair.
>the pony residents have been pretty charitable, and Rarity especially has been a huge help getting your upholstery altered to human size.
>Which reminds you; you've got to go see her, get some clothes fitted.
>With dread, you think about the pink frills and sequins she's going to want to deck you out in.
>It's the thought that counts, right?
>At any rate, you settle in next to your most prized possesion; the piano.
>You took it from outside the old pony retirement home; apparently, it had been left to moulder in the back porch, unused chiefly due to the lack of geriatric talent in the town.
>For a reasonable price, it sat in your modest foyer; badly tuned, but serviceable, and possessed of a kind of unique, fragile charm that comes with most things of age.
>You shower off, cleaning out the day's worth of oil dust and metal filings off your weathered, ill-looked after self.
>Shaving hasn't really been a priority lately, and you let your scruff grow free.
>It's liberating, really, despite giving you the look of a weathered hobo.
>Afterwards, you set yourself down, and play.
>You play, and let yourself escape for a little while.
>Escape from your past, the regrets and lives you left behind...
>Of course, you were never a great hand at piano, but that was mostly due to the lack of will and time to practice.
>Now, of course, in a world you barely fit in, surrounded by those who seem only to tolerate you, practicing comes as easily as breathing.
>You start out with some old videogame music, simple pieces you learned out of curiosity.
>As your weathered fingers dance along the keys, you feel the strain of the day fall off your shoulders
>You move along to some scraps of classical you've picked up, and bits of local pieces, etched out i cheap notation paper.
>You think of her
>Slowly, you start to play something altogether different, something unique to your being.
>it's not good by any stretch of the imagination, but you pour part of the life you lost into the piece, and though it's often interrupted by mistakes and stumblings, it has a... quality.
>it's hard to explain, even to yourself.
>Suddenly, a gentle knock sounds at your door.
>Interrupted from your reverie, you get up. Briefly, you check the time.
>5:45. Jesus, you've been at this a while.
>You answer the door, wiping your shaggy hair out of your eyes, noticing a bit too late that what you're dressed in would barely be passable for a line up at a soup kitchen.
>C'est la vie, you suppose.
>You open the door, and are greeted by pic related, looking at you with a questioning eye.
>She looks at you, clearly surprised by the enormous (relatively) ape-thing in shabby attire before her.
>You're used to it, and try not to look too offended by her poorly veiled grimace.
>She's cute, you realize abruptly; you hadn't thought of the bizarro horses in that way before.
>Ash grey mane, done up neatly in a kind of pompadour, with a light smokey fur.
>She had a kind of somber presence, formal without effort.
>Charming, and somehow reminding you of...
>You look at her, realizing you lost yourself in thought for a second, and that she had said... something.
"I'm sorry, missed what you said there"
>Happily, she seems happy enough to repeat herself.
"Hello, I couldn't help noticing your music as I was passing by. I... I don't think we've met? I'm Octavia."
>She curtsies gently, so much as one can curtsy with 4 legs.
>Adorable.
"I'm Anonymous, pleased to meet you"
>You try (successfully?) to meet her formality, and she smiles politely.
"You're quite the pianist, if you don't mind me saying. It's rare to come across the musically inclined in a town as small as this. It's a pleasure to meet you"
>You notice she has a large case strapped to her back; a cello, you think?
"Thanks; I can't say I'm that great, though. My playing is only a hobby, really."
>She seems a little crestfallen at the statement. You can only assume she's some kind of proffessional.
"Well, if you're interested at all, there's a performance at the local cafe I'm playing in; I'd be thrilled if you could come too. That is, if you're interested."
>You consider that for a moment
>You hadn't really become close with anyone lately, and though you had almost resigned yourself to a life of near-solitude, it would be nice to break the lonely streak.
>The conversations with that one purple pony (damned if you could remember her name) made it more or less clear that you were stuck here.
>May as well try to mingle more with the locals, especially with one so... cute.
>She intrigued you, too; something about her hinted of something held back, part of her personality in reserve.
>An air of formality, though easy to her, not natural.
>And the faintest hint of... something. Something you've forced into forgetfulness, something you've kept away.
>Something of her.
>You decided you need to hear her play
>You've always had a soft spot for string instruments anyways, though you've never had the balls nor money to try your hand at them.
>You let smile out, almost unkowingly; ,maybe the first genuine one you've had in ages.
"Absolutely; I'd love to. When?" "Tonight, at 9. I'll see you there."
>With a smile and another curtsy, she makes off into town, her neatly brushed tail swaying behind her.
>You smile more broadly; maybe there was something in this world for you after all.
>As the day was slowly fading away, you had already cleaned up your shop. The woodchips that littered the floor were now in your woodstove with logs of hickory and poplar wood, bringing a soft warmth to you and any who entered.
>You were proud of your talents, stringing instruments for a living, sometimes making ones out of your own resources.
>Somepony bought one of your guitars for a shocking 1000 bits just because you got the blemish and wood texture just right to make them desperate.
>But as the day began to wind down, you started to dim the lights as you cracked your neck and knuckles. Another day had passed as you looked back at your workshop, seeing all the scattered tools, slim wood planks, and strings littering your work bench,
>However, a knock at your shop door didn't mean the day was quite over yet.
>"Excuse me, mister, is your shop still open?" You walk to the door in a rush, sparing no time as the cold autumn air had already chilled many bones this late in the day, and you had warmth.
>As your hand opened the door, you see a grey pony with a white collar and pink bow tie, with a solidly straight dark grey mane. Beside her was a Cello case, you could tell, a 1/8 size in your world, but here it was 4/4
"Yes?" you ask as you invite her in, the warmth of the door stove drawing her like a moth as she speaks. She slowly sets her Cello case on the ground.
>"I've a concerto to participate with in three days, and my Cello fell to an unfortunate accident."
"How bad? You ask as she opens the case with her hooves. Your jaw drops in shock.
>The neck was broken, the fingerboard splintered, and the scroll capped at the top.
"Oh dear Celestia," you mutter as you get on your knees beside Octavia, her sigh audible as you saw a couple strings tensed out beyond their limit.
>"Can you fix it?" She asks.
"Well, here's the thing. It'll take me a long time, but I can let you have a loaner while I try to work on this thing. It's..." you held the snapped neck's fingerboard in your fingers as you held the strings, "Kinda Fubar with the neck so I'll have to manufacture another one, along with a scroll, and getting so pegs for this, because they're a funny size here."
>The pegs on this Cello were about a half the size bigger than the standard. It made you a bit confused, but you shook your head as Octavia sighed.
>"When can you get me the loaner?" She asked as she looked away from her Cello.
"Right now," you say as you stand up, your knees popping as you take a walk behind your desk, passing the woodstove on the way.
>"Excuse me, Anon, if you don't mind, I'd like to sit near the stove. It's quite warm." Octavia asked shyly as if she seemed like a beggar who was asking for too much.
"Of course, get as warm as you need," you say, taking a slight detour as you grab your cashier chair, and set it a good five feet from the searing hot woodstove. "Come back here and get warm."
>"Thanks, Mister Anon."
"Call me Anon, or hell, Nonny just for the heck of it." You say this as you open your storage room, flicking a dusty light. In this room were abandoned instruments or the oldest ones around. You had a personal favorite of yours, a violin you found to be played in one of the recreations of Mars - The Bringer of War performed by a Boston Concerto.
>Ignoring it, you scroll your eyes down the walls, coming across a Cello you had restored from a landfill back when you were at your last home.
>You walk out, holding it in your arms at it's 1/8 size and taking one of your bows, and you sit at your workbench.
>"Anon, what are doing?" She asks with a raised brow.
"Im going to see if this baby is still tuned after all these years." You say as you place the bow on the strings accordingly, and almost in an instant, your fingers line the board as you place Joseph Bach's Bwv1007 Cello suit a good way, until you start to hear little to no imperfections in the song, seeing the Cello you saved still hadn't lost the touch you once gave to this Cello.
>As the piece falls to the high notes, you stop and look at her case, walking it over as Octavia applauds.
>"Anon, that was spectacular!" She says as she looks over to the Cello in your arms, your hands carefully placing it inside the case as you close it up, placing the bow on the outside holder.
"I have to do it to make sure they're still a good one. Besides, that's one of the decent pieces. Bach was nothing when I had these, but it was still beautiful." You say as you set her case up, and she looks at you.
>"It was." Octavia said as she took a look at the bow. You had finished it yourself, with a small signature saying "Anon. Co. Luthier Works." It was made from a sturdy Ashwood that seemed like it was fitting with the Cello.
"Alright, Listen Octavia. I only want you to do a few things."
>"Anon?" she said in a confused tone.
"You don't have to do them, but I just want you to so it'll make my worries ease off."
>"Uh..." She had no clue what you were talking of, but you could see a red on her face.
"Not that!"
>"Oh thank Celestia, I thought you were another pervert." Octavia mused.
"No, just.... A few things. One, take great care of this Cello. I restored it myself. Because it was destroyed when I found it.
>"Alright, next?"
"If you want to have some of your payment lifted off since I'll be pulling an All-Nighter on that FUBAR situation, you'll have to either let me hear you play in person or grab me a ticket if you play in public."
>"I can do that, but is there anything else?"
>You nod.
"I want you to perform your best with that dear Cello. She's not a cutesy one where you just play around, her strings are rough and deserve to be played at their best. By the best, by what I've heard. And so far, you're one of the few I'll loan it to."
>"Oh, Anon, you honestly like my playing?"
"Yes, and if anything," You say, walking to your workbench as you open a drawer, shuffling through stacks of stapled paper as you hand her what seems to be a handmade book of printed papers, "Try playing Bach yourself. The Cello Suite No. 1 by Bach."
>She takes them in her hoof, opening the case back up with her free hoof as she slides it in beside the Cello, and closes it up.
>"Thank you Anon, I'll be sure to take the greatest care of this." She says, picking it up as she hangs her case on her back, taking a slow walk to the door as she left for her home.
"Such a nice mare," You say to yourself as you walk to your dark corner, and light up a small gas lamp to give yourself a nostalgic feel.
>You put a match near the liquid-drenched ribbon of fiber as it slowly starts to light and you dim down the main lights for your shop, walking up the stairs as you grab a cup of coffee.
"Tonight's gonna be a long night," You say as Octavia's damaged Cello lays upon the workbench, and you take out your plane, your saw, tape measurer, and other tools necessary for fixing up Octavia's dearly beloved.
>Within minutes, you begin noting the length of the Neck, approximate fingerboard width, types of wood, blemishes, and many other key details.
>You night is long as you remove the old, damaged neck from Octavia's Cello carefully with nothing but a mirror, light, and a small hook used to grab nails and staples for removal.
>Halfway into your night, you have already finished the neck's basic length, angle, and width.
>Your last details were in the peg holes and making the Peg Box and Scroll like her trusted Cello.
>However you desire something more than the dead silence of the night, and you walk to the cabinet located in the adjacent corner next to your lamp.
>You open it up, revealing vinyl records as you examine the sides.
"Vivaldi... Eugen... Samuel Barber..." However, you stumble across one of your favorite albums. Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky, and his Concerto in B Minor. "Ah!"
>Slowly placing the record on the upwards side, you drop the needle gently as you turn your gramophone up and start the spinning.
>The music fills the shop, but not too loud.
>Just loud enough for you to hear, and it wasn't that loud either.
>As your hands went to work, your exacto knife, sandpaper, shine polish, and a small hand drill same to work under your power as you began to continue remanufacturing the cello you had to finish.
>As the night had passed in what seemed to be a flash, you had already constructed the neck, and connected it to the cello with careful strategies.
>The pegbox and scroll were already finished, as your arms rest on the table, having connected them as their fine texture of wood shined in the rising sun's like.
"Finished..." With that, you slowly pick it up, putting it on a holding rack as you lean back in your shop chair, stretching, and lay your head on the wood-chip littered table as your eyes close.
>Right now, it was sleepytime.
>As your head gentle eased off, what seemed like a few hours of sleep passed in a mere few minutes to you as you awoke, hearing a knock at the door as your eyes shuttered open and you shouted in your groggy state.
"Come in!"
>The door opens, and Octavia is there to greet you as she looks at your bench, and the bags under your eyes.
>"Oh dear, Anon, did you really spend all night on my Cello?!" She said, seeing you walk over to the recieving desk you had built yourself while your rubbed your eyes to try and wake up.
"Yeah, well, the job's done." You say as you pick her Cello off of the stand you placed it on, showing her the almost near replicated scroll, with the exception of a few more spins in the wood, as you hold it out for her.
>"Anon, this is amazing!" She said as she examined her Cello. "How did you do this?
"Loads of practice," you retort as she smiles.
>"I'll be right back," Octavia says as she turns and canters outside, only to return with the Cello case she had.
>"Here," she says, gently lifting your Cello out of her case as you walk over, holding her Cello like a child being held by it's mother.
>You place it in her case as it rests comfortable like it did back before the damage, and the strings already on there, and replaced, but you really don't remember doing them.
"Just so you know," You say with a yawn, "You may have to tune them."
>"Anon?"
"Yeah?" You answer as you rub your face,
>"Tonight, do you mind if I come by with this again? So you can tune it? I honestly want to hear you play, it's almost amazing every time you do."
"I'll give it a try," you say as you slowly place your precious Cello on the stand where you sat Octavia's, and stretch. "I require more sleep before I can process this request." You say as you then lose track of your thoughts, letting out an "aaaaaaa," before realizing you just went braindead for a second, and shake your head.
>"What was that, Anon...?" Octavia asks, trying not to giggle.
"Brain dot E X E has stopped."
>She laughs, not knowing what an E-X-E was, but it was still quite funny to her as she turned around to leave.
>"I'll see you tonight then, Anon?" Octavia says with glee.
"Yeah, if I don't become attached to my blankets," you reply before heading up the stairs. The oil lamp burnt out, and the record player had already stopped, as Octavia closed the door before leaving, and you head went to your room.
>As soon as your head hit that pillow, and your arms curled the blanket over you, you practically died in that bed, not responding to a single thing the world had.
>As the night had came upon itself, you had already cleaned up shop, your T.O.D in that bed being around noon, but your wake up time being at 6:00 P.M. You had went outside and gotten firewood to keep your shop and home warm as you sit in your work bench area. You already put the Cello away, and you were in your suit, with black coat and pants with a tie, but no vest. Your shirt was a blank white but the cuffs had small links you had kept from your very first suit.
>However, as you turned off the worklight and began to vacate, a knock came to your door.
"Come in," You say as you adjust your tie.
>"Anon!" She says as you turn to face her. She carried the Cello in her case, which rested upon her back as she stepped inside. "You look sharp. Is this for me or because you're going to be playing?"
"Playing, because I rarely ever joke about the music." You say as you take the case off of her back, and she looks at you, almost admiringly.
>"Where will you go to play?" She asks as you shrug.
"Upstairs, the main room is big enough for me, and not so crowded by utilities."
>"Ah, well," she says as she shrugs and you start to walk up the stairwell, the lights bright up on the second floor.
>Your main room has a couch, or more or less a futon, and a reclining chair, along with a small coffee table, with a can of soda on it. There's a lamp on a corner table and you have a CRT Television with an antenna on a media bay with a game system you took with you to this new world: the SNES with Mario Kart, Super Metroid, Tetris 2, and a few others.
>"Wow, Anon. Your place is pretty clean," Octavia says as she puts her hooves on your clean and shining hardwood floors.
"I try to keep it nice," you say as you sit on your futon, scooting the coffee table away from it as you open the case and place the Cello of Octavia's in the position you had always known as the pegbox rested on your shoulder. "Ready?" You ask.
>"Indeed," She says, taking a seat on the recliner as you remove the bow from the case and gently grind a string.
>It's good.
>Soon, your fingers started to take a slow movement as your hand began to move that bow across those strings like a warm knife through butter
Here's the song, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wK1Ini9Aoxk
>As you take the slow and gentle largo pace, you keep in touch with the music before you stop at the final movement in the small, one-minute piece as you remove the bow and nod.
"Works," you mutter as you place the cello back in Octavia's case as she stared at you, almost like she just seen a phenomena.
>"Anon, that was really good!" She says as she widens her eyes for a second before she gasps. "By the way Anon, those ticket for the show is inside the Bow pocket!"
>You don't hesitate as you slowly reach inside the bow holder, and slowly pull out an envelope that had a fancy signature, almost like henscratch. It read, "From the Royal Concerto."
>As you opened it up, a small letter slowly dropped out onto your lap.
by LunarLunatik
by LunarLunatik
by LunarLunatik