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For the Record: Chapter 6

By: Fillydelphian on Aug 2nd, 2013 | syntax: None | size: 28.52 KB | hits: 225 | expires: Never

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>The alarm clock wakes you at the unholy hour of six o' clock.
>You groan loudly and roll over in bed as the shrill ringing fills the room.
>Cheerilee gets up and turns off the alarm with a swift move of her hoof.
>”Good morning, sleepy,” she coos, tickling your ear with her muzzle.
Gmrnng...
>The teacher yanks the sheets off the bed and grins.
>”You know the drill. I've got to get in the shower before I go to the school and you've got to get gone before I get out. It really is nice having you over, but I've got my responsibilities to think of.”
Yeah, yeah. I'll get out of your mane.
>She heads to the bathroom and you hear her start the water running.
>Over the noise, she hollers.
>”Oh, and Anon?”
Yeah?
>”Your big show is tonight, isn't it?”
Doors at eight. I'd better see you there.
>”You will, don't you fret.”
And the after-party? The one at Sweet Apple Acres?
>”I'll see what I can do, but no promises. I'm behind on my grading as it is.”
Well, I'll mark you down as 'maybe,' then. I'll see you tonight.
>Cheerilee doesn't answer you. You gather your clothes, put on what you need to, and head out with your jacket slung over your shoulder.
>It's a bright morning in Ponyville. Perfect weather for a show.
>Sugar Cube Corner is just opening up when you arrive. Pinkie is downstairs making pastries and Octavia is sitting at one of the booths, munching on a scone.
>She looks up at you and rolls her eyes.
>Pinkie, however, rushes up to you.
>”Good Morning, Nony! Do you want breakfast? I've got scones and tea cakes and cookies and tea and danish and-- Ooh! Are you ready for the party tonight!?” she babbles.
I'm ready, Pinkie. I'm psyched.
>The mare beams.
...And I'd kill for some coffee and a muffin.
>”Coming right up!”
>You lean on the counter and look at Octavia.
Ready for tonight?
>”Quite,” comes the terse response.
How about after the show?
>”I'm just focusing on the important things, thank you.”
1/
Party's important too, you know. You have to socialize if you're going to get known.
>”Isn't that your job?” Octavia shoots back.
My job's to get you in the front door. You've got to make an effort, too. Public perception is everything, Tavi. Just look at Vy.”
>”Vinyl doesn't have to put on a public face. Her natural personality gains her enough fans in her 'scene' as it is.”
Not the point. Point is she's likable.
>”I'm not?”
Didn't mean it like that. You just have to present yourself as somep0ny who's down-to-earth. Somep0ny ponies would get a beer with or go out with.
>Pinkie brings out a plate of two muffins and a cup of coffee.
Thanks, Pinkie.
>”Not at all!” the bubbly mare replies, bounding into the kitchen.
Anyway, enough of that. You nervous?
>”Nervous? Why would I be nervous? It's only the biggest show of my career, and I've only got to impress an audience of music executives and record ponies, and I've only got to play after Violina's set...”
Don't think about her.
>”How can I not? How can you not?”
It's behind me is how.
>”How astute of you,” comes the reply from the door.
>You turn around slowly to see the blue-maned mare saunter in and lean against the counter.
Fiddlesticks! We were just talking about you.
>”I do have a habit of being on ponies' minds. One of the many perks of fame, don't you agree?” She smiles that smug smile of hers and casually rings the service bell.
Don't you have ponies to get your breakfast for you?
>”But then I'd miss seeing you!” Violina fake-balks. “And I do so love seeing what could have been.” She motions to the two of you. “It's positively tragic, what I avoided.”
It's almost like you really think you're worth my time.
>The mare bites her tongue and rings the bell again, agitated.
2/
>”Well, I'm looking forward to the show tonight, aren't you? It'll be a real treat seeing little Octavia make a fool of herself in the big leagues, though she does have a history...”
>”That wasn't my fault, at the Gala, and you know it!”
>Violina smirks as Pinkie comes out of the kitchen.
>”You're absolutely right! It was hers,” she declares, pointing to the pink mare. “I'm so glad you've become such good friends with the pony who made a fool out of you.”
Some of us know how to let go of the past, Fiddlesticks.
>”Oh, like you, Mousy-poo? I--” You cut her off angrily.
Shut the fuck up, Violina.
>”Still tender. A shame.” She turns to Pinkie. “I'll have a half-dozen eclairs and two cups of tea.”
>Pinkie remains stalwartly effervescent. “Alrighty! I'll be back in a jiffy!” she says with unmitigated enthusiasm.
>While the pink mare is gone, Violina slinks over to where you're sitting and picks up one of your muffins.
>”Anyway, it's been so nice seeing you again these past few days.”
>She tears the top off and takes a slow bite.
>”Mmph, these are delicious.”
>Your eye twitches.
>”Fiddly! Your order's ready! Fiddly!”
>Violina whirls around.
>”It's Violina!” She catches her furious tone and calms herself. “For the last time, my name is Violina,” she corrects.
>Pinkie smiles and pushes the bag of pastries over to her.
>”Okay! Have a nice day!”
>The blue-maned mare snatches the bag and slinks out.
>”Seriously, how did you date her?” Octavia asks once she's gone.
I don't want to talk about it.
>Octavia’s face softens and she nods silently.
3/
>Eventually, Vinyl makes her way downstairs. She looks as unkempt as ever.
>”Hey, guys. What'd I miss?”
Blast from the past. Again.
>”Fiddles?”
Sticky as ever.
>”How did you two date?”
>”He doesn't want to talk about it,” Octavia replies.
>”That just means it's even more interesting!”
>“Drop it, Vy.” The grey mare suddenly adopts an intimidating timbre. “Unless you want me to tell that story about the maid costume and the rubber hose.”
>Vinyl's eyes go wide and her face reddens.
>”You wouldn't...”
>“Hey, Pinkie? You wanna hear the Maid Story?” Octavia calls over her shoulder.
>Pinkie perks up.
>Vinyl's face is now ashen.
>”Alright, I'll drop it! Just...shut up!”
>You smirk as she sits down next to Octavia.
Maid costume?
>”It was college! Didn't you do crazy stuff in college?” Vinyl answers, flustered.
>You think for a second.
Well, there was the time my dad caught me sleeping with the Dean of Admissions...
>”Seriously?” Vinyl laughs.
Yeah, that made Senior Year fun. Anyway, I'm gonna go up to the concert hall. Tavi, head on up when you're ready to do some work. Pinkie, thanks for the breakfast. I'll see you at the party. Vy?
>”Yeah?”
You got the you-know-what ready?
>The DJ leans back triumphantly.
>”Been workin' on it all week! You're gonna love it.”
Great.
>You head out the door, straightening your tie as you go.
4/
>The concert hall is a chaotic storm of chattering workers and managers shouting orders all around.
>You stop one of them.
Is Octavia's dressing room ready?
>The stallion sighs, as if you're pulling him from something of dire import.
>”Yes, just follow me,” he replies.
>You smile and go after him.
>Backstage, the two of you wind through the halls towards the room you got for Octavia when you got to town.
>There's a big gold star on the door reading--
>The stallion continues down the hall.
>A scowl forms on your face.
Stop.
>He keeps walking.
Hey! I said stop! Come here. I want you to help me out here.
>”W-with what?”
Well, I think I might be having some kind of stroke, because I'm reading this sign on Octavia's door, but it looks like it reads “Violina.”
>You crouch down and look the stallion in the eye.
Now, you know that an inability to read words is one of the signs of a stroke, right? Unless there's something you'd like to fill me in on?
>”I don't think I understa--”
Why is Violina's name on Octavia's room? The room I claimed at the beginning of this week, that your boss told me was free? I'm sure there's been a mistake, because normally ponies TELL ME before they fuck me.
>”I-I--”
Go get your boss.
>The stallion scurries off.
>You stand back up and adjust your cuffs.
Try to get things done without a hangup...
>Of course, if Octavia were here, she's tell you to just drop it.
>But she's not here, so you get to play hardball.
>The stallion returns after a few minutes, following after a rather stately-looking mare. She looks you up and down with a stony expression.
>”What seems to be the problem?” she asks, sounding bored.
There's been a mix-up with my client's dressing room. I came in here on Monday and secured this room here for Octavia. Now, I don't know what kind of amateur-hour show you're planning on running, but unless I missed the day in 'Doing Your Job 101' where this kind of crap is kosher, this isn't going to fly.
5/
>The mare blinks apathetically a couple of times.
>”Anon, I know you have a big reputation up in Canterlot...in more ways than one. I don't much appreciate the tone you're taking. I don't know who you talked to on Monday, but I assure you, that room has been booked for Violina -who, I might add, has some actual pull here- since last week. Your client's dressing room is down the hall and to the left and it has more than enough accommodation for her, I think you'll agree. Now, I have a show to put on, and I don't need any over-excited hotshots complicating things further. Good day.” She turns swiftly around and walks off before you can respond.
>The stallion hangs around for a moment, looking at you uneasily.
>”I-I'm just gonna go...” he mumbles.
>You sigh sharply and trudge to Octavia's room.
>Once inside, you loosen your tie and throw your jacket on the chair in front of the mirror.
Goddammit!
>You run your hands through your hair and stare at the mirror.
Underhanded bitch must've bribed them or something.
>While you pace, ,you don't notice the door creak open.
Just had to show up, eh, Fiddlesticks? Had to come back out the blue and fuck everything up for me again?
>For a few seconds, you keep ranting before you spot a black mane out the corner of your eye.
>”Bad time?” Octavia asks.
>You grab your jacket from the chair and straighten your tie again.
Uh, no, no. I was just making sure your dressing room was in order.
>Octavia furrows her brow while you casually look through various hangers and soundproofing boards.
>”Is everything alright?” She takes a step forward.
Yeah. Fine. Everything's fine. You just going to practice until curtain?
>”I was hoping to, yes. What are you going to do?”
>You pause for a moment.
...Do you think I can stay here and listen for a while?
>Octavia looks taken aback.
>'I- well, sure...I suppose that's alright. Just don't make too much noise, alright? I don't want to be distracted.”
6/
>For the next ten minutes you sit in Octavia's dressing room while she plays her set.
>She draws her bow across the cello's strings deftly. Her earlier nervousness dissolves amidst the notes.
>Despite the music, you still find yourself tense.
>Just as you're about to get up to go for a walk, there's a knock at the door.
>Octavia frowns, her concentration broken.
I'll get it. You keep going.
>You open the door a crack.
What is i--
>A familiar face looks back at you. It's Fancypants' secretary. The stallion himself is nowhere to be seen.
>”Hi, Anon,” the mare says. Her voice has a smoky quality to it.
Hey there.
>You open the door wider and lean on the jamb.
What can I do for you?
>Octavia cranes her neck and, when she sees who it is, rolls her eyes.
>”I'm in town for the concert with Fancypants. The manager told me you were back here and I thought I'd come and see you,” the cream-colored mare says, making eyes at you.
>You smile warmly at her, relaxing your posture.
Where is Fancypants?
>”Off talking to some big shots. He'll probably be tied up a while with them.” She raises an eyebrow.
>What was her name?
>Moxie? Maddie?
>No...
>...Mothra?
>Shit.
>She cocks her head to the side.
Why don't you and I go and get a business breakfast?
>”I'd like that,” she answers brightly.
>Octavia clears her throat. You look back to see her tapping her hoof on the floor.
One second?
>”Sure. I'll be out front,” the secretary says, glancing at the cellist.
>You walk back over to the grey mare.
What is it?
>”Are you sure you're okay?” she asks, setting down her instrument.
Yeah. Why are you asking?
>”When I walked in here you were just pacing around and ranting, Anon. I'm worried.”
I'm fi--
>”Are you? Really? You and I both know how you deal with--”
Octy.
>”Fine. Just...if you need somep0ny to talk to...my door's open. Alright?”
7/
>At the cafe, you sit across from Fancypants' secretary.
>She sips a cup of coffee daintily and looks at her plate.
So how long have you been in the business?
>The mare brushes her brown mane back behind her ear.
>”A few years. I did some clerical work for the Council before Fancypants picked me up.”
You used to work in government?
>”Technically, yes. Nothing glamorous, though. My job right now is much more interesting than that ever was.”
The parties are certainly better.
>The mare shifts in her seat.
>”What about you? You must have some stories. How long have you been doing this?”
You want the truth? About two years. Just sort of happened.
>A look of understanding comes over the secretary's face.
>”Ah, that explains it.”
Explains what?
>You furrow your brow in confusion.
>”How Fancypants slipped it by you. I wondered how you'd missed the missing disclosure clause in the contract.”
What?
>”It's how Violina got Octavia's room.”
How do you know--
>“I overheard the manager telling Fancypants about it. Didn't you wonder how she got all that without anyp0ny telling you?”
I assumed she pulled strings.
>”Even she doesn't have that many strings at her disposal. My boss was none too pleased about you pulling the wool over his eyes when you got this gig.”
>You find yourself leaning forward. This mare is more than meets the eye, it seems. She takes another sip of coffee.
>”So how have you liked your stay so far? It's such a small town, Ponyville. I can't imagine staying here more than a couple days. It must be so boring,” she says lazily, changing the subject. “How do you even pass the time here?”
>You lean back and smirk at the glint in her eye.
I have my ways.
8/
>A couple hours later, you come back to the concert hall.
>The place is bustling. As you pass by Violina's room, you can hear her practicing.
>You quicken your pace, not wishing to have the reminder ruin your mood.
>Octavia is waiting in her room when you arrive, applying fresh rosin to her bow.
>She looks up when you walk in.
>”Good breakfast?” she asks. “How is Maxie?”
>Maxie...
>That's it!
>The grey mare evidently sees the look of revelation on your face and suppresses a laugh.
>”You really didn't remember. Did you seriously get through all that without knowing her name?” Octavia's tone is disarmingly light.
I may have. Maxie. Have to remember that. Nice mare.
>”You seem like you're in a better mood than before.” Her voice drops. “Safe to assume that's because...”
Twice. At the inn.
>”I'm not even surprised anymore.”
Were you ever?
>She raises her hoof, then silently puts it back down.
How's practice? Going well? Everything's been put together really smoothly on the business end, from what Maxie told me. Fancypants went to some crazy lengths to get this all going, so don't worry about it. Just focus on the music.
>”So it wasn't all business with that mare? You did your job, too?”
It's called efficiency.
>”I'll take your word for it. I think I have everything ready to play.”
You'll blow them all away, Octy. Trust me on this. Fiddlesticks has got nothing on you.
>”Where are you going to be?”
In the wings, like always. And then with the VIPs. But that's the reception.
>Octavia throws a glance at the clock.
>Ten AM.
>”There's still so much time...”
>You chuckle.
Well, if you want, we can go visit Vinyl and Pinkie. They should be over at the farm setting up for tonight. I bet anything they'll be there all day.
9/
>”Alright, but only for a little while. I want to be able to practice for at least an hour before the show and I know how distracted you get with her.” Octavia sets her bow on the counter.
We've got eight before doors, nine before curtain. You've got plenty of time.
>The mare looks at the door.
>”You're right. Maybe I can convince her to tear herself away from it to get lunch with us?”
That might take some doing. C'mon.
>You carry Octavia's cello case over to her.
>She lets a smile crack and puts the instrument away.
>On your way out of the concert hall, she looks up at you.
>”Thanks...for what you did with Twilight. I do appreciate it, really.”
>You look up at the sky and say nothing.
>Octavia sighs.
>”And I don't think I thanked you for even getting us here in the first place...”
Don't mention it, Tavi. It's my job, isn't it?
>”Right.”
>You smirk and reach down to tousle her mane.
Come on, don't say it like that. You know I'd do this even if it wasn't.
>She closes her eyes happily.
>”You mean like the first time?”
The solo at the F# Cafe, yeah. I remember.
>”You got drunk after the show--”
--Took home the stage manager. You know she's married now?
>”You kept track?” she sounds incredulous.
I ran into her a month ago. Married a Royal Guard. They've got a foal on the way.
>”It's good to know you aren't completely detached.”
Thank you. And I wasn't that drunk, you know.
>”You tripped on your shoelace and nearly broke the soundboard.”
And I still got you a recording session.
>”You did.”
>The two of you pass by the small elementary school on your way to Applejack's farm.
>Through the window you catch a glimpse of Cheerilee, teaching her students.
>Octavia sees your gaze linger.
>”Anon, I know you don't like me asking, bu--”
I know, Octy. When it feels right.
>She looks taken aback. You grin.
10/
She's a good one, that teacher. Fantastic in the sack, too. I can't stress that enough.
>The grey mare reddens. ”Anon,” she chides.
I mean seriously.
>”Anon.” She's harsher now.
Mind blowing. All I'm gonna say. She's got it going on.
>”So why--”
Because I don't want to, and neither does she. Why should I?
>”Well--”
I don't need a marefriend. I've got friends for talking to and hanging out and I've got mares for the rest. I don't need them combined.
>”Is it because of--”
No.
>Octavia sighs.
>”Alright. But you can't just bury things and hide them from us.”
Who's hiding?
>”It's my job to pry, Anon.”
Sure. What else are friends for?
>The barn looms over the hill.
Now, let's go find Vy.
11/
>Six thirty.
>Octavia is glaring at you again.
Please stop looking at me like that.
>”What happened to 'a little while?'” the mare scowls.
I already apologized, Tavi.
>”You know I don't know anything about electronics.”
Neither do I. I was just humoring them.
>”You could have gotten us out of there.”
You saw how happy Vy looked. You really wanted to bail on her in the middle of that? She was loving it!
>Octavia sighs and looks ahead at the concert hall.
>”I was going to practice before curtains...Now there's no time.”
>The two of you go in the back and head towards Octavia's room.
>”What am I going to do? I'm on in an hour and I still have to tune and warm up, and I didn't get to practice, and I still have to polish my cello...”
>She scurries into the room and plops down into the chair for a second before jumping back up and pacing over to her instrument.
>”Oh Celestia, I'm so unprepared...”
You did the Gala. What are you worried about?
>The mare whips around.
>”I had time to get ready at the Gala! You remember! I spent all day warming up for that!”
>You kneel down and put your hands on Octavia's grey shoulders.
Tavi. That was a year ago.
>She slows her breathing and furrows her brow at the serious face you've adopted.
You've been too tight this last week, constantly practicing and worrying about this gig. Relax.
>”How can I relax whe--”
Hey. Tavi, you're the best musician I've ever met. You've got this music down. You've got this gig on lock. I need you to believe that. Don't play the way you did at the Gala. Play the way you did at the Downbeat. You remember the Downbeat?
>”How could I not? It was my first show after met her.”
And you were brilliant that night. Channel that.
>”I can't believe you're giving me one of those 'play from the heart' speeches right now.”
Is it working?
>She looks down, but cracks a sheepish smile.
>”A little...”
12/
Good.
>You stand up again and straighten your tie.
Now, we've got curtain in thirty. You still have half an hour after that to get ready, and you don't go on until seven forty five, so that's plenty of time.
>”What about Violina?” Octavia asks, still looking insecure.
Don't think about Fiddlesticks right now. She's on at seven fifteen. Not sure why Fancy didn't have her at the end of the show, but that's to our advantage. You're after her and you can show everyone who's top mare here.
>Octavia seems to swell a little bit. You can't help but smile when she goes to rosin up her bow again.
>”I'm glad we could spend some time together today, Anon.”
>She opens the cello case once more and removes the instrument.
>”And thanks for the pep-talk.” She starts tightening the cello's strings. You walk towards the door.
Any time. I'll be backstage if you need me, and I'll be back here before you go on.
>You close the door behind you as Octavia starts to tune up.
>Backstage, the tech ponies are hard at work doing final checks.
>Fancypants is hashing something out with a stage manager. Maxie stands beside him jotting down notes and passing him papers.
>She glances up and spots you across the stage. A smile flashes and she nods in your direction.
>You give a subtle wave and pretend to survey the technical workings of the stage.
>The crowd starts to murmur on the other side of the regal red curtain.
>A stage manager checks her watch and starts motioning to the crew.
>”Alright, clear the stage! Clear the stage! Everyp0ny in the wings unless you're on tech crew!” she yells.
>You're rushed into the wings. Maxie throws a last glance in your direction before she follows Fancypants into the concert hall.
>The stallion looks at you briefly with a self-satisfied face.
13/
>Before you know it, it's seven. The first performer takes the stage and the curtain rises.
>You make your way back to Octavia's room.
>She's still playing when you walk in.
How's it going?
>Octavia takes a deep breath. “Good. It's good.”
Still nervous?
>”Of course.”
Better than before?
>She nods, smiling to herself.
>”Yeah. Thanks.”
You've got another forty five until you're on. Want to go to the wings and listen?
>The mare looks at the door and sets her bow on the desk.
>”Alright, but--”
We'll come back here when Fiddles is up. I don't really feel like listening to her either.
>”Let's go, then. The first pony will be starting soon.”
>Octavia and you venture out into the wings just as the lights come up. A mint green unicorn sits on a small stool at the center of the stage. She levitates a gold lyre in front of her and begins to pluck the strings lightly with her hooves.
>”Who is that?” Octavia whispers. You flip through the program.
Says here her name is Lyra.
>”That's apt.”
Funny how that happens, huh? Anyway, she's a local talent. Mostly amateur stuff, from her bio here. This is probably her first big gig.
>”She's very good.”
>The two of you stand in the dark watching the performance. The mare on stage looks softly out at the crowd. You notice her eyes fixate on a particular spot in front of her every so often.
She must have someone special in the audience.
>”What makes you say that?”
She keeps staring. It's a confident look, too. Not an ounce of stage fright.
>”I think that's because she's playing for somep0ny.”
I think you're right.
14/
>Lyra finishes her performance around ten minutes later, to loud applause. As the curtain falls, Octavia watches the mare trot of stage.
She's shaking.
>”I noticed.”
One more before Fiddlesticks.
>”Who is it?”
Arpeggia, on viola.
>”Remind me to see her after the show? I haven't spoken to Arpeggia since last fall,” Octavia states.
Will do. Just don't take too long catching up. Vinyl's party starts like an hour after this gets out and she'd die if you missed what she's been working on.
>Arpeggia takes the stage as the curtain rises.
>The audience clops loudly in approval when Arpeggia plays the last note. It seems to hang in the air even after the curtain drops.
That was really good.
>”Well, it was Arpeggia. What were you expecting?”
Is that a blush I see?
>Octavia twirls around and starts towards her room.
>”Nothing of the sort. It's Violina's turn now, no?”
That it is. Going to go get ready?
>”I am.”
Good. I was afraid I was going to have to listen to her play.
>On your way back to the room, Violina comes out of her door. She shoots you a cold smirk and a swing of her hips as she passes you, sending a twinge of irritation down your spine.
>Octavia takes no notice of the blue-maned mare. “Do you think Vinyl will be here for the show?” she asks.
Definitely. She wouldn't miss seeing your first out-of-town gig for the world.
15/
>Fifteen minutes later, you hear the raucous applause that marks the end of Violina's performance.
>You can just imagine the haughty look on her face as she takes it in.
>Octavia watches you as you push it from your mind.
>”They like her.”
I know.
>A stagehand knocks on the door.
>”Octavia, you're on in five,” he says dispassionately.
>”Alright, Thank you!” Octavia yells back. She looks in the mirror intently and takes a few deep breaths before taking up her instrument. “Okay. Here we go. Wish me luck?”
No. You don't need it. Get out there and show these ponies what you're made of.
>The mare looks at the door, swallows, and walks out. You remain behind for a few minutes before following her.
>When you get to the wings, Octavia is standing at center stage with her cello.
>The curtain rises.
>The spotlight shines on her.
>A heavy silence falls over the concert hall.
>An agonizing silence.
>Octavia closes her eyes, lifts the bow, and touches it to the strings.
>And then she begins to play.
>Her head sways and bobs as she drags the bow and presses on the neck of the cello.
>The sound fills the concert hall. It sounds different than it did when she was practicing, as if she's added some intangible new element to the melody.
>You know exactly what it is, and smile as the mare sweeps herself away in the music.
>The music swells and declines. Octavia skillfully navigates through the crescendos and the tempo changes and the broad range of sounds that the suite requires. The longer she plays, the more fluid her motions become, until she rocks and weaves with the cello guiding her.
>At the end of her performance, as the last note hangs in the air, the silence slowly creeps back into the concert hall.
16/
>Octavia lowers her bow and slowly opens her eyes just as the gathered ponies begin to rise, applauding thunderously.
>You catch a glistening in the cellist's eyes as she bows and carries her instrument offstage while the curtain drops.
>She sets the cello down and leaps into your arms when she reaches you.
>”I did it!” she squeals. “They liked me! Do you hear them?”
>You ruffle her mane and lift her up.
No, Tavi, they loved you. Just listen to the crowd.
>Eventually the din subsides and the two of you head back to the room to pack up.
>Once Octavia has her cello away, you go to the wings yet again to listen to the rest of the performances.
>You lean down and whisper to the mare after the next piece.
An hour to go.
>”Until the party?” Octavia whispers back, over the applause.
Until the end of the show. You still want to meet up with Arpeggia?
>”There's time, right?”
Always. Just remember: you've got to be at the party in time for Vy's thing, and she's really eager to show it off.
>”I'll keep it short, then.”
And remember: this party's for networking. Have fun with it and make sure to talk to ponies other than Twilight and Pinkie's group, okay? Make yourself known.
>”Got it.”
You killed it out there. You really did.
>”Thanks, Anon. Do you think it's enough?”
I'll talk to the big wigs right after the show ends. Get them while they're still processing it.
>You lean against the wall.
>Octavia's performance went off better than you expected.
>Now you just have to turn it into something.
End

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>The alarm clock wakes you at the unholy hour of six o' clock.
>You groan loudly and roll over in bed as the shrill ringing fills the room.
>Cheerilee gets up and turns off the alarm with a swift move of her hoof.
>”Good morning, sleepy,” she coos, tickling your ear with her muzzle.
Gmrnng...
>The teacher yanks the sheets off the bed and grins.
>”You know the drill. I've got to get in the shower before I go to the school and you've got to get gone before I get out. It really is nice having you over, but I've got my responsibilities to think of.”
Yeah, yeah. I'll get out of your mane.
>She heads to the bathroom and you hear her start the water running.
>Over the noise, she hollers.
>”Oh, and Anon?”
Yeah?
>”Your big show is tonight, isn't it?”
Doors at eight. I'd better see you there.
>”You will, don't you fret.”
And the after-party? The one at Sweet Apple Acres?
>”I'll see what I can do, but no promises. I'm behind on my grading as it is.”
Well, I'll mark you down as 'maybe,' then. I'll see you tonight.
>Cheerilee doesn't answer you. You gather your clothes, put on what you need to, and head out with your jacket slung over your shoulder.
>It's a bright morning in Ponyville. Perfect weather for a show.
>Sugar Cube Corner is just opening up when you arrive. Pinkie is downstairs making pastries and Octavia is sitting at one of the booths, munching on a scone.
>She looks up at you and rolls her eyes.
>Pinkie, however, rushes up to you.
>”Good Morning, Nony! Do you want breakfast? I've got scones and tea cakes and cookies and tea and danish and-- Ooh! Are you ready for the party tonight!?” she babbles.
I'm ready, Pinkie. I'm psyched.
>The mare beams.
...And I'd kill for some coffee and a muffin.
>”Coming right up!”
>You lean on the counter and look at Octavia.
Ready for tonight?
>”Quite,” comes the terse response.
How about after the show?
>”I'm just focusing on the important things, thank you.”
1/

Party's important too, you know. You have to socialize if you're going to get known.
>”Isn't that your job?” Octavia shoots back.
My job's to get you in the front door. You've got to make an effort, too. Public perception is everything, Tavi. Just look at Vy.”
>”Vinyl doesn't have to put on a public face. Her natural personality gains her enough fans in her 'scene' as it is.”
Not the point. Point is she's likable.
>”I'm not?”
Didn't mean it like that. You just have to present yourself as somep0ny who's down-to-earth. Somep0ny ponies would get a beer with or go out with.
>Pinkie brings out a plate of two muffins and a cup of coffee.
Thanks, Pinkie.
>”Not at all!” the bubbly mare replies, bounding into the kitchen.
Anyway, enough of that. You nervous?
>”Nervous? Why would I be nervous? It's only the biggest show of my career, and I've only got to impress an audience of music executives and record ponies, and I've only got to play after Violina's set...”
Don't think about her.
>”How can I not? How can you not?”
It's behind me is how.
>”How astute of you,” comes the reply from the door.
>You turn around slowly to see the blue-maned mare saunter in and lean against the counter.
Fiddlesticks! We were just talking about you.
>”I do have a habit of being on ponies' minds. One of the many perks of fame, don't you agree?” She smiles that smug smile of hers and casually rings the service bell.
Don't you have ponies to get your breakfast for you?
>”But then I'd miss seeing you!” Violina fake-balks. “And I do so love seeing what could have been.” She motions to the two of you. “It's positively tragic, what I avoided.”
It's almost like you really think you're worth my time.
>The mare bites her tongue and rings the bell again, agitated.
2/

>”Well, I'm looking forward to the show tonight, aren't you? It'll be a real treat seeing little Octavia  make a fool of herself in the big leagues, though she does have a history...”
>”That wasn't my fault, at the Gala, and you know it!”
>Violina smirks as Pinkie comes out of the kitchen.
>”You're absolutely right! It was hers,” she declares, pointing to the pink mare. “I'm so glad you've become such good friends with the pony who made a fool out of you.”
Some of us know how to let go of the past, Fiddlesticks.
>”Oh, like you, Mousy-poo? I--” You cut her off angrily.
Shut the fuck up, Violina.
>”Still tender. A shame.” She turns to Pinkie. “I'll have a half-dozen eclairs and two cups of tea.”
>Pinkie remains stalwartly effervescent. “Alrighty! I'll be back in a jiffy!” she says with unmitigated enthusiasm.
>While the pink mare is gone, Violina slinks over to where you're sitting and picks up one of your muffins.
>”Anyway, it's been so nice seeing you again these past few days.”
>She tears the top off and takes a slow bite.
>”Mmph, these are delicious.”
>Your eye twitches.
>”Fiddly! Your order's ready! Fiddly!”
>Violina whirls around.
>”It's Violina!” She catches her furious tone and calms herself. “For the last time, my name is Violina,” she corrects.
>Pinkie smiles and pushes the bag of pastries over to her.
>”Okay! Have a nice day!”
>The blue-maned mare snatches the bag and slinks out.
>”Seriously, how did you date her?” Octavia asks once she's gone.
I don't want to talk about it.
>Octavia’s face softens and she nods silently. 
3/

>Eventually, Vinyl makes her way downstairs. She looks as unkempt as ever.
>”Hey, guys. What'd I miss?”
Blast from the past. Again.
>”Fiddles?”
Sticky as ever.
>”How did you two date?”
>”He doesn't want to talk about it,” Octavia replies.
>”That just means it's even more interesting!”
>“Drop it, Vy.” The grey mare suddenly adopts an intimidating timbre. “Unless you want me to tell that story about the maid costume and the rubber hose.”
>Vinyl's eyes go wide and her face reddens.
>”You wouldn't...”
>“Hey, Pinkie? You wanna hear the Maid Story?” Octavia calls over her shoulder.
>Pinkie perks up.
>Vinyl's face is now ashen.
>”Alright, I'll drop it! Just...shut up!”
>You smirk as she sits down next to Octavia.
Maid costume?
>”It was college! Didn't you do crazy stuff in college?” Vinyl answers, flustered.
>You think for a second.
Well, there was the time my dad caught me sleeping with the Dean of Admissions...
>”Seriously?” Vinyl laughs.
Yeah, that made Senior Year fun. Anyway, I'm gonna go up to the concert hall. Tavi, head on up when you're ready to do some work. Pinkie, thanks for the breakfast. I'll see you at the party. Vy?
>”Yeah?”
You got the you-know-what ready?
>The DJ leans back triumphantly.
>”Been workin' on it all week! You're gonna love it.”
Great.
>You head out the door, straightening your tie as you go.
4/

>The concert hall is a chaotic storm of chattering workers and managers shouting orders all around.
>You stop one of them.
Is Octavia's dressing room ready?
>The stallion sighs, as if you're pulling him from something of dire import. 
>”Yes, just follow me,” he replies.
>You smile and go after him.
>Backstage, the two of you wind through the halls towards the room you got for Octavia when you got to town.
>There's a big gold star on the door reading--
>The stallion continues down the hall.
>A scowl forms on your face.
Stop.
>He keeps walking.
Hey! I said stop! Come here. I want you to help me out here.
>”W-with what?”
Well, I think I might be having some kind of stroke, because I'm reading this sign on Octavia's door, but it looks like it reads “Violina.”
>You crouch down and look the stallion in the eye.
Now, you know that an inability to read words is one of the signs of a stroke, right? Unless there's something you'd like to fill me in on?
>”I don't think I understa--”
Why is Violina's name on Octavia's room? The room I claimed at the beginning of this week, that your boss told me was free? I'm sure there's been a mistake, because normally ponies TELL ME before they fuck me.
>”I-I--”
Go get your boss.
>The stallion scurries off.
>You stand back up and adjust your cuffs.
Try to get things done without a hangup...
>Of course, if Octavia were here, she's tell you to just drop it.
>But she's not here, so you get to play hardball.
>The stallion returns after a few minutes, following after a rather stately-looking mare. She looks you up and down with a stony expression.
>”What seems to be the problem?” she asks, sounding bored.
There's been a mix-up with my client's dressing room. I came in here on Monday and secured this room here for Octavia. Now, I don't know what kind of amateur-hour show you're planning on running, but unless I missed the day in 'Doing Your Job 101' where this kind of crap is kosher, this isn't going to fly.
5/

>The mare blinks apathetically a couple of times.
>”Anon, I know you have a big reputation up in Canterlot...in more ways than one. I don't much appreciate the tone you're taking. I don't know who you talked to on Monday, but I assure you, that room has been booked for Violina -who, I might add, has some actual pull here- since last week. Your client's dressing room is down the hall and to the left and it has more than enough accommodation for her, I think you'll agree. Now, I have a show to put on, and I don't need any over-excited hotshots complicating things further. Good day.” She turns swiftly around and walks off before you can respond.
>The stallion hangs around for a moment, looking at you uneasily.
>”I-I'm just gonna go...” he mumbles.
>You sigh sharply and trudge to Octavia's room.
>Once inside, you loosen your tie and throw your jacket on the chair in front of the mirror.
Goddammit!
>You run your hands through your hair and stare at the mirror.
Underhanded bitch must've bribed them or something. 
>While you pace, ,you don't notice the door creak open.
Just had to show up, eh, Fiddlesticks? Had to come back out the blue and fuck everything up for me again?
>For a few seconds, you keep ranting before you spot a black mane out the corner of your eye.
>”Bad time?” Octavia asks.
>You grab your jacket from the chair and straighten your tie again.
Uh, no, no. I was just making sure your dressing room was in order.
>Octavia furrows her brow while you casually look through various hangers and soundproofing boards.
>”Is everything alright?” She takes a step forward.
Yeah. Fine. Everything's fine. You just going to practice until curtain?
>”I was hoping to, yes. What are you going to do?”
>You pause for a moment.
...Do you think I can stay here and listen for a while?
>Octavia looks taken aback.
>'I- well, sure...I suppose that's alright. Just don't make too much noise, alright? I don't want to be distracted.”
6/

>For the next ten minutes you sit in Octavia's dressing room while she plays her set.
>She draws her bow across the cello's strings deftly. Her earlier nervousness dissolves amidst the notes.
>Despite the music, you still find yourself tense.
>Just as you're about to get up to go for a walk, there's a knock at the door.
>Octavia frowns, her concentration broken.
I'll get it. You keep going.
>You open the door a crack.
What is i--
>A familiar face looks back at you. It's Fancypants' secretary. The stallion himself is nowhere to be seen.
>”Hi, Anon,” the mare says. Her voice has a smoky quality to it.
Hey there.
>You open the door wider and lean on the jamb.
What can I do for you?
>Octavia cranes her neck and, when she sees who it is, rolls her eyes.
>”I'm in town for the concert with Fancypants. The manager told me you were back here and I thought I'd come and see you,” the cream-colored mare says, making eyes at you.
>You smile warmly at her, relaxing your posture.
Where is Fancypants?
>”Off talking to some big shots. He'll probably be tied up a while with them.” She raises an eyebrow.
>What was her name?
>Moxie? Maddie?
>No...
>...Mothra?
>Shit.
>She cocks her head to the side.
Why don't you and I go and get a business breakfast?
>”I'd like that,” she answers brightly.
>Octavia clears her throat. You look back to see her tapping her hoof on the floor.
One second?
>”Sure. I'll be out front,” the secretary says, glancing at the cellist.
>You walk back over to the grey mare.
What is it?
>”Are you sure you're okay?” she asks, setting down her instrument.
Yeah. Why are you asking?
>”When I walked in here you were just pacing around and ranting, Anon. I'm worried.”
I'm fi--
>”Are you? Really? You and I both know how you deal with--”
Octy.
>”Fine. Just...if you need somep0ny to talk to...my door's open. Alright?”
7/

>At the cafe, you sit across from Fancypants' secretary.
>She sips a cup of coffee daintily and looks at her plate.
So how long have you been in the business?
>The mare brushes her brown mane back behind her ear.
>”A few years. I did some clerical work for the Council before Fancypants picked me up.”
You used to work in government?
>”Technically, yes. Nothing glamorous, though. My job right now is much more interesting than that ever was.”
The parties are certainly better. 
>The mare shifts in her seat.
>”What about you? You must have some stories. How long have you been doing this?”
You want the truth? About two years. Just sort of happened.
>A look of understanding comes over the secretary's face.
>”Ah, that explains it.”
Explains what?
>You furrow your brow in confusion.
>”How Fancypants slipped it by you. I wondered how you'd missed the missing disclosure clause in the contract.”
What?
>”It's how Violina got Octavia's room.”
How do you know--
>“I overheard the manager telling Fancypants about it. Didn't you wonder how she got all that without anyp0ny telling you?”
I assumed she pulled strings.
>”Even she doesn't have that many strings at her disposal. My boss was none too pleased about you pulling the wool over his eyes when you got this gig.”
>You find yourself leaning forward. This mare is more than meets the eye, it seems. She takes another sip of coffee.
>”So how have you liked your stay so far? It's such a small town, Ponyville. I can't imagine staying here more than a couple days. It must be so boring,” she says lazily, changing the subject. “How do you even pass the time here?”
>You lean back and smirk at the glint in her eye.
I have my ways.
8/

>A couple hours later, you come back to the concert hall. 
>The place is bustling. As you pass by Violina's room, you can hear her practicing.
>You quicken your pace, not wishing to have the reminder ruin your mood.
>Octavia is waiting in her room when you arrive, applying fresh rosin to her bow.
>She looks up when you walk in.
>”Good breakfast?” she asks. “How is Maxie?”
>Maxie...
>That's it!
>The grey mare evidently sees the look of revelation on your face and suppresses a laugh.
>”You really didn't remember. Did you seriously get through all that without knowing her name?” Octavia's tone is disarmingly light.
I may have. Maxie. Have to remember that. Nice mare.
>”You seem like you're in a better mood than before.” Her voice drops. “Safe to assume that's because...”
Twice. At the inn.
>”I'm not even surprised anymore.”
Were you ever?
>She raises her hoof, then silently puts it back down.
How's practice? Going well? Everything's been put together really smoothly on the business end, from what Maxie told me. Fancypants went to some crazy lengths to get this all going, so don't worry about it. Just focus on the music.
>”So it wasn't all business with that mare? You did your job, too?”
It's called efficiency.
>”I'll take your word for it. I think I have everything ready to play.”
You'll blow them all away, Octy. Trust me on this. Fiddlesticks has got nothing on you.
>”Where are you going to be?”
In the wings, like always. And then with the VIPs. But that's the reception.
>Octavia throws a glance at the clock.
>Ten AM.
>”There's still so much time...”
>You chuckle.
Well, if you want, we can go visit Vinyl and Pinkie. They should be over at the farm setting up for tonight. I bet anything they'll be there all day.
9/

>”Alright, but only for a little while. I want to be able to practice for at least an hour before the show and I know how distracted you get with her.” Octavia sets her bow on the counter.
We've got eight before doors, nine before curtain. You've got plenty of time. 
>The mare looks at the door.
>”You're right. Maybe I can convince her to tear herself away from it to get lunch with us?”
That might take some doing. C'mon.
>You carry Octavia's cello case over to her. 
>She lets a smile crack and puts the instrument away.
>On your way out of the concert hall, she looks up at you.
>”Thanks...for what you did with Twilight. I do appreciate it, really.”
>You look up at the sky and say nothing.
>Octavia sighs.
>”And I don't think I thanked you for even getting us here in the first place...”
Don't mention it, Tavi. It's my job, isn't it?
>”Right.”
>You smirk and reach down to tousle her mane.
Come on, don't say it like that. You know I'd do this even if it wasn't.
>She closes her eyes happily.
>”You mean like the first time?”
The solo at the F# Cafe, yeah. I remember.
>”You got drunk after the show--”
--Took home the stage manager. You know she's married now?
>”You kept track?” she sounds incredulous.
I ran into her a month ago. Married a Royal Guard. They've got a foal on the way.
>”It's good to know you aren't completely detached.”
Thank you. And I wasn't that drunk, you know.
>”You tripped on your shoelace and nearly broke the soundboard.”
And I still got you a recording session.
>”You did.”
>The two of you pass by the small elementary school on your way to Applejack's farm.
>Through the window you catch a glimpse of Cheerilee, teaching her students.
>Octavia sees your gaze linger.
>”Anon, I know you don't like me asking, bu--”
I know, Octy. When it feels right.
>She looks taken aback. You grin.
10/

She's a good one, that teacher. Fantastic in the sack, too. I can't stress that enough.
>The grey mare reddens. ”Anon,” she chides.
I mean seriously. 
>”Anon.” She's harsher now.
Mind blowing. All I'm gonna say. She's got it going on.
>”So why--”
Because I don't want to, and neither does she. Why should I?
>”Well--”
I don't need a marefriend. I've got friends for talking to and hanging out and I've got mares for the rest. I don't need them combined.
>”Is it because of--”
No.
>Octavia sighs.
>”Alright. But you can't just bury things and hide them from us.”
Who's hiding?
>”It's my job to pry, Anon.”
Sure. What else are friends for?
>The barn looms over the hill.
Now, let's go find Vy.
11/

>Six thirty.
>Octavia is glaring at you again.
Please stop looking at me like that.
>”What happened to 'a little while?'” the mare scowls.
I already apologized, Tavi.
>”You know I don't know anything about electronics.”
Neither do I. I was just humoring them.
>”You could have gotten us out of there.”
You saw how happy Vy looked. You really wanted to bail on her in the middle of that? She was loving it!
>Octavia sighs and looks ahead at the concert hall.
>”I was going to practice before curtains...Now there's no time.”
>The two of you go in the back and head towards Octavia's room. 
>”What am I going to do? I'm on in an hour and I still have to tune and warm up, and I didn't get to practice, and I still have to polish my cello...”
>She scurries into the room and plops down into the chair for a second before jumping back up and pacing over to her instrument.
>”Oh Celestia, I'm so unprepared...”
You did the Gala. What are you worried about?
>The mare whips around.
>”I had time to get ready at the Gala! You remember! I spent all day warming up for that!”
>You kneel down and put your hands on Octavia's grey shoulders.
Tavi. That was a year ago.
>She slows her breathing and furrows her brow at the serious face you've adopted.
You've been too tight this last week, constantly practicing and worrying about this gig. Relax.
>”How can I relax whe--”
Hey. Tavi, you're the best musician I've ever met. You've got this music down. You've got this gig on lock. I need you to believe that. Don't play the way you did at the Gala. Play the way you did at the Downbeat. You remember the Downbeat?
>”How could I not? It was my first show after met her.”
And you were brilliant that night. Channel that.
>”I can't believe you're giving me one of those 'play from the heart' speeches right now.”
Is it working?
>She looks down, but cracks a sheepish smile.
>”A little...”
12/

Good.
>You stand up again and straighten your tie.
Now, we've got curtain in thirty. You still have half an hour after that to get ready, and you don't go on until seven forty five, so that's plenty of time.
>”What about Violina?” Octavia asks, still looking insecure.
Don't think about Fiddlesticks right now. She's on at seven fifteen. Not sure why Fancy didn't have her at the end of the show, but that's to our advantage. You're after her and you can show everyone who's top mare here.
>Octavia seems to swell a little bit. You can't help but smile when she goes to rosin up her bow again.
>”I'm glad we could spend some time together today, Anon.”
>She opens the cello case once more and removes the instrument.
>”And thanks for the pep-talk.” She starts tightening the cello's strings. You walk towards the door.
Any time. I'll be backstage if you need me, and I'll be back here before you go on.
>You close the door behind you as Octavia starts to tune up.
>Backstage, the tech ponies are hard at work doing final checks.
>Fancypants is hashing something out with a stage manager. Maxie stands beside him jotting down notes and passing him papers.
>She glances up and spots you across the stage. A smile flashes and she nods in your direction.
>You give a subtle wave and pretend to survey the technical workings of the stage.
>The crowd starts to murmur on the other side of the regal red curtain.
>A stage manager checks her watch and starts motioning to the crew.
>”Alright, clear the stage! Clear the stage! Everyp0ny in the wings unless you're on tech crew!” she yells. 
>You're rushed into the wings. Maxie throws a last glance in your direction before she follows Fancypants into the concert hall.
>The stallion looks at you briefly with a self-satisfied face.
13/

>Before you know it, it's seven. The first performer takes the stage and the curtain rises.
>You make your way back to Octavia's room.
>She's still playing when you walk in. 
How's it going?
>Octavia takes a deep breath. “Good. It's good.”
Still nervous?
>”Of course.”
Better than before?
>She nods, smiling to herself.
>”Yeah. Thanks.”
You've got another forty five until you're on. Want to go to the wings and listen?
>The mare looks at the door and sets her bow on the desk.
>”Alright, but--”
We'll come back here when Fiddles is up. I don't really feel like listening to her either.
>”Let's go, then. The first pony will be starting soon.”
>Octavia and you venture out into the wings just as the lights come up. A mint green unicorn sits on a small stool at the center of the stage. She levitates a gold lyre in front of her and begins to pluck the strings lightly with her hooves.
>”Who is that?” Octavia whispers. You flip through the program.
Says here her name is Lyra.
>”That's apt.”
Funny how that happens, huh? Anyway, she's a local talent. Mostly amateur stuff, from her bio here. This is probably her first big gig.
>”She's very good.”
>The two of you stand in the dark watching the performance. The mare on stage looks softly out at the crowd. You notice her eyes fixate on a particular spot in front of her every so often.
She must have someone special in the audience.
>”What makes you say that?”
She keeps staring. It's a confident look, too. Not an ounce of stage fright.
>”I think that's because she's playing for somep0ny.”
I think you're right.
14/

>Lyra finishes her performance around ten minutes later, to loud applause. As the curtain falls, Octavia watches the mare trot of stage.
She's shaking.
>”I noticed.”
One more before Fiddlesticks.
>”Who is it?”
Arpeggia, on viola.
>”Remind me to see her after the show? I haven't spoken to Arpeggia since last fall,” Octavia states.
Will do. Just don't take too long catching up. Vinyl's party starts like an hour after this gets out and she'd die if you missed what she's been working on.
>Arpeggia takes the stage as the curtain rises. 

>The audience clops loudly in approval when Arpeggia plays the last note. It seems to hang in the air even after the curtain drops.
That was really good.
>”Well, it was Arpeggia. What were you expecting?”
Is that a blush I see?
>Octavia twirls around and starts towards her room.
>”Nothing of the sort. It's Violina's turn now, no?”
That it is. Going to go get ready?
>”I am.”
Good. I was afraid I was going to have to listen to her play.
>On your way back to the room, Violina comes out of her door. She shoots you a cold smirk and a swing of her hips as she passes you, sending a twinge of irritation down your spine.
>Octavia takes no notice of the blue-maned mare. “Do you think Vinyl will be here for the show?” she asks.
Definitely. She wouldn't miss seeing your first out-of-town gig for the world.
15/

>Fifteen minutes later, you hear the raucous applause that marks the end of Violina's performance.
>You can just imagine the haughty look on her face as she takes it in. 
>Octavia watches you as you push it from your mind.
>”They like her.”
I know.
>A stagehand knocks on the door.
>”Octavia, you're on in five,” he says dispassionately.
>”Alright, Thank you!” Octavia yells back. She looks in the mirror intently and takes a few deep breaths before taking up her instrument. “Okay. Here we go. Wish me luck?”
No. You don't need it. Get out there and show these ponies what you're made of.
>The mare looks at the door, swallows, and walks out. You remain behind for a few minutes before following her.
>When you get to the wings, Octavia is standing at center stage with her cello.
>The curtain rises.
>The spotlight shines on her.
>A heavy silence falls over the concert hall.
>An agonizing silence.
>Octavia closes her eyes, lifts the bow, and touches it to the strings.
>And then she begins to play.
>Her head sways and bobs as she drags the bow and presses on the neck of the cello.
>The sound fills the concert hall. It sounds different than it did when she was practicing, as if she's added some intangible new element to the melody.
>You know exactly what it is, and smile as the mare sweeps herself away in the music.
>The music swells and declines. Octavia skillfully navigates through the crescendos and the tempo changes and the broad range of sounds that the suite requires. The longer she plays, the more fluid her motions become, until she rocks and weaves with the cello guiding her.
>At the end of her performance, as the last note hangs in the air, the silence slowly creeps back into the concert hall.
16/

>Octavia lowers her bow and slowly opens her eyes just as the gathered ponies begin to rise, applauding thunderously.
>You catch a glistening in the cellist's eyes as she bows and carries her instrument offstage while the curtain drops.
>She sets the cello down and leaps into your arms when she reaches you.
>”I did it!” she squeals. “They liked me! Do you hear them?”
>You ruffle her mane and lift her up.
No, Tavi, they loved you. Just listen to the crowd.
>Eventually the din subsides and the two of you head back to the room to pack up.
>Once Octavia has her cello away, you go to the wings yet again to listen to the rest of the performances.
>You lean down and whisper to the mare after the next piece.
An hour to go.
>”Until the party?” Octavia whispers back, over the applause.
Until the end of the show. You still want to meet up with Arpeggia?
>”There's time, right?”
Always. Just remember: you've got to be at the party in time for Vy's thing, and she's really eager to show it off.
>”I'll keep it short, then.”
And remember: this party's for networking. Have fun with it and make sure to talk to ponies other than Twilight and Pinkie's group, okay? Make yourself known.
>”Got it.”
You killed it out there. You really did.
>”Thanks, Anon. Do you think it's enough?”
I'll talk to the big wigs right after the show ends. Get them while they're still processing it.
>You lean against the wall.
>Octavia's performance went off better than you expected.
>Now you just have to turn it into something.
End

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