In a Cello Mood

Dear Diary,

I haven't written in a while - since June, I think. Maybe May. One way or another, I finally have a good reason to. Just today - this very morning! - I got my letter from the Royal University of Music and Musical Studies! You know better than anypony else that enrolment in RUMMS has been my goal for quite a while. And now it's a dream coming true!

And yet, while I cannot hold my joy at bay, I must say that today has also been very weird. Naturally, as soon as I had received the letter and told all my relatives about it, I went to MoonBucks to get a cup of my favourite espresso and calm down in the tranquil atmosphere of the coffee shop. However... I met a very interesting pony there.

An extremely interesting pony.

...

Anyway.

It was a hot morning, and the clocks were striking twelve...

***

It was a hot morning, and the clocks were striking twelve, when Octavia Philarmonica yawned, rolling in bed, her eyes still closed blissfully in post-slumber tranquillity, remnants of sleep clinging to her lazy mind. Shrugging off the remains of the dream - which, for better or for worse, included a group of pirate mares seducing her into consuming copious amounts of rum and having an orgy while the parrot watched and filmed the whole occasion - Octavia sat in bed, her eyes blinking against the traces of sunlight making its way into the bedroom through the thick bordeaux-red curtains.

Finally, battling the laziness that she'd grown accustomed to throughout the hot, serene summer, Octavia got up, stretching her limbs wearily, with a good yawn, as she trotted about the small room, making sure to avoid bumping into the chair that stood proudly in the middle of the room, resting on the chequered carpet after yesterday's cello practice.

"Hooves go up, hooves go down," the young grey mare sang as she performed the same routine of morning excercise, jumping in place and stretching her legs joyfully. "Up, down! Up! Down!" The cellist began to smile as she caught the right rhythm, not even needing the radio to support her musically.

"Octavia!" an older mare's voice called out from downstairs, her voice echoing, reverberating through the corridor in a single chorus.

"Up! Down! Up! Down!" Octavia grunted, not interrupting her exercise, leaning left and right as she tried to stretch as deep as possible.

"Octavia!" the same voice reached her ears, a little closer this time. "Are you awake?"

The cellist stopped, ceasing all movement, and took a deep breath, closing her eyes, the veins on her temples pulsating with effort. "Yes, mom?!" she finally replied in a quiet shout, turning her head towards the open door. "I'm awake!"

Eleanore Philarmonica, a mare of broad bone and lavender coat, with a curly blonde mane that, no matter how well-brushed or dyed, could not match the colour of her eyes, a radiant brown, peeked into the room, trotting inside immediately, levitating an envelope in her telekinetic grip. "You have a letter!" she announced, proceeding to peck her daughter on the cheek, much to Octavia's disapproval.

"Yes, thank you, mom." Octavia made a motion to free herself from her mother's embrace vainly. "Mom. I kinda want to read the letter in private," the young cellist reminded the older mare, putting extra emphasis on the last two words.

"Oh, of course." Eleanore withdrew with a 'knowing' smile that only a mother can have. "I'm sure the letter's from your coltriend~" she cooed, trotting away, leaving the room right before Octavia's nostrils exploded in embarrassed irritation, her face a tint of pink. "Moooom!" she roared, much to her mother's laughter. "Frederic's not my coltfriend!" With a sigh, the cellist picked up the envelope, laying it onto her bed. "Besides, he would drop by if..." she grunted, opening up the envelope with her teeth gracefully.

A quick glance at the letter told Octavia three things.

One, the letter was from the Royal University of Music and Musical Studies.

Two, it was dated 15/8.

Three, apparently, the Royal Post could not deliver letters on time.

Her heart being faster, Octavia picked up her spectacles, putting them on hastingly, as she squinted at the letter, the words dancing, refusing to stand in a stately queue.

Dear Ms Philarmonica,

The letter read. Octavia's heart leapt to her throat as she blinked, forcing herself to read further.

We would like to congratulate you on passing your entrance exams with merit. We are glad to welcome you to RUMMS, the classical composition faculty. You need to sign all the necessary papers and make the transaction for the first semester at our office by August 28th.

Octavia blinked, a goofy smile making its way to her face. I've enrolled! I'm in RUMMS! Yay! The young cellist eeped loudly, prancing about the room in delight. "I passed! I enrolled! I'm in RUMMS!" she shouted on top of her lungs, dancing like a filly, prompting her mother to return to the room post-haste.

Looking at her scared, shocked mother, Octavia grinned widely, willingly throwing herself in the older mare's embrace. "Mom, I made it! I made it to RUMMS! I'm a uni student now!" she chirped, not letting her mother chime in with a single word. "Now I just need to sign the papers and pay by-" Suddenly, the cellist stopped abruptly, a realisation dawning upon her. "By tomorrow!" she shrieked, breaking the hug and running in circles nervously.

Finally, getting a grip on the situation, Eleanore trotted towards her panicking daughter and grabbed her in her hooves, holding the trembling earth pony in a firm, tight embrace. "Shh. Octavia. Calm down. Everything's under control. We'll go there in the afternoon, and I'll pay at once." The older mare sniffed, not even taking an effort to look away from her now-calming filly. ""My filly is a student at RUMMS! I'm so, so proud of you."

Octavia began to feel uncomfortable, just as her blood pressure returned to normal levels and the pace of her breathing matched the thoughts in her head that, to her delight, stopped running about and tangling themselves into knots, but instead lay silently on the shelves of her mind. Of course it would all be all right. It was all all right already. She passed, and, in a few hours, she would go to the university and make it official. And mom has the money, and all is well.

"Is everything all right?"

Octavia turned her head, following her mother's gaze towards the doorway, where Jeffrey, an old unicorn butler whose whole life consisted of caring for the Philarmonico household, a stallion with a greying mane and a worn-out, equally grey coat, watched the two mares with the same serene, yet compassionate, look, that he always had while observing his mistresses from his very special place in life that he held.

"Yes, Jeffrey," Octavia called out before her mother could say a word. "I enrolled in RUMMS!" she announced proudly, with a hint of shame at being so overly-enthusiastic. And yet, the occasion demands it. Forgetting all propet etiquette, Octavia galloped at the old stallion, crushing him in an embrace. "I enrolled in RUMMS! I'm a student!"

With a graceful, elegant motion, the old butler freed himself from the filly's grasp, smiling politely - yet with unspeakable warmness. "Not yet, Miss. If you remember, you still have some formal-"

"We'll sign all the papers after breakfast," Eleanore interrupted him, glancing at her daughter with a kind smile. "Right, dear?" The mare walked towards the cellist, giving her a warm nuzzle on the neck.

Octavia scrunched her muzzle both at the form of addressing and the open gesture. "Mom, I will sign the papers," she corrected with a certain degree of defiance. "And I was thinking of going to MoonBucks for breakfast." Mentally, the young mare braced herself for the discussion that was sure to arise...

Only there was no discussion to be held. Octavia's mother just shook her head in disapproval, but said nothing against her daughter's decision, only asking, "Don't forget to brush your teeth, dear."

"I won't," Octavia said automatically, surprised that there was no resistance from her coffee-despising mother. Then, realising the implication, she rolled her eyes, trying to look knowingly at Jeffrey, who had already miraculously disappeared. That stallion... "Mom, I'm eighteen. I know how to look after myself."

"Seventeen~" Eleanore corrected from the doorway in a sing-song voice.

"Almost eighteen." Octavia grunted and disappeared in her private bathroom. Taking a glance in the mirror, she smiled widely at herself. This was the first day she looked in the mirror and saw not just the old boring Octavia; she saw the Uni Student Octavia. With the same smile, the cellist took a cake of soap and a brush.

Time to get ready, she though, entering the bathtub. I want to look perfect today. She sniffed at the sweaty air and blushed. And smell perfect, too.

She turned off the water, drawing the curtains to a close.

***

The tiny coffee shop was peacefully quiet as Octavia placed her order straight upon entering the small cafe, a pleasant ginger mare behind the  counter going off to the even-tinier pseudokitchen to make the Scoltish cookie the cellist ordered. An espresso and a cookie. The usual. Octavia took a look about the nearly-empty coffee shop, only five little tables, a poor reflection of the new MoonBucks that they had set in the local district department store. And yet, Octavia preferred this little cafe, with freshly-baked pastry, and no hustle, no bustle, no shouting - a place where she could be alone.

However, this time, she was not alone. There was another mare.

The mare in question, barely older than Octavia herself, if not younger, was sitting at one of the small round tables of the coffee shop, completely alone, a huge cake resting on the table, a good quarter of it already eaten, with a huge grin on her bespectacled face. With a touch of surprise, the cellist noticed that the spectacles were the same model as hers, only tinted a fair shade of dark-purplish lavender that really matched her (strangely ponytailed, just like her own) electric-blue mane and radiant red eyes. Or were they magenta? Her white coat was stained by the cream from the cake, but it didn't seem to bother the strange unicorn mare, who, for some reason, was wearing a conical party hat.

A party of one indeed, Octavia thought, proceeding to the nice table by the window that overlooked the busy street, feeling genuinely awkward at the realisation that the only patrons of the coffee-brewing establishment were she and the weird mare, who kept smiling to herself as she hummed a tune, slicing the cake, the knife firm in her magical grip. Suddenly, she turned towards Octavia, motioning towards the cake with her head.

"Want some cake?"

Octavia blinked in surprise, blushing slightly at being addressed by a stranger. "I..." Why is she even talking to me?

"It's very tasty!" the party-hat mare assured her, levitating a piece of cake in the air. "It's also very expensive and I can't eat it all by myself. Wanna help me?" Octavia replied with a slow nod, still unable to fully comprehend what was wanted of her.

Probably because I'm the only one here she can talk to, the cellist replied to her mental question belatedly, watching the unicorn mare occupy the empty chair opposite her, the cake making its way to the new table. "It's my birthday," the mare chirped, suddenly hitting her forehead with a hoof. "Oh, totally forgot! I'm Vinyl." The mare extended her hoof, which Octavia shook slowly, as if in a daze, still shocked by the straightforwardness and general... suddenness of the mare - Vinyl. "What's your name?"

Octavia blinked, opening her mouth to reply to the sudden question. "Uh. Octavia. Octavia Philarmonica." She paused, searching for the right words. "Uh. Happy birthday, Vinyl?" I shouldn't have said that, the young cellist noted, just as Vinyl grinned even wider, shaking the grey hoof vigorously.

"Thank you, Octy! I can call you Octy, right?" Vinyl blabbered away, taking Octavia by surprise - not only by surprise, but totally unarmed. "See, Octy, it's my eighteenth birthday! Super special. But my friends, see, they don't think so. I invited them, but they must have forgotten." For a moment, Vinyl's face faded a little. "But, at least, you're with me, right?"

No. You may not call me 'Octy'. "Right," Octavia concluded, both feeling very mild compassion towards the mare - maybe because of her spectacles (Definitely because of her spectacles) - and deep confusion. "Um. Thank you for the cake?" She chuckled sheepishly, accepting the piece of pastry which, after the first bite, turned out to be quite delicious, with a strange, yet refreshing mix of mint and chocolate.

"My favourite flavour," Vinyl said with a smile, muching on the cake delightfully. "The freshness of mint and chocolate's....  chocolatness," she wrapped up lamely, with a tiny blush at her vocabulary.

Octavia giggled in spite of herself, covering her mouth with a hoof, her voice jingling in the stale air of the coffee shop, mixing with the sounds of running cabs and trotting ponies from the streets. The dim sounds of hectic city life did not bother the cellist, however; she was used to them only too well.

Vinyl blinked, her grin turning into a kind smile. "I really like your laugh, Octavia," she said warmly. "You should laugh more."

I laugh... enough? Octavia fought an urge to raise her brow, but merely smiled, forgiving Vinyl for now, if only because of the proper form of addressing her. "Thank you. I really like..." she paused, searching for an appropriate counter-compliment to show her politeness. "Your mane?"

Vinyl erupted in low, soft, jingly laughter, a sound of a trombone mixed with a flute. Impossibly, she reached for the cellist and patted her on the shoulder, sending a bolt of electricity through Octavia's spine at the contact. Physical contact was something she did not allow even her closest friend, Frederic, the wonderful pianist, and, in addition, a post-graduate student in RUMMS. Belatedly, Octavia mused if Frederic had taken some measures to help her enrol. No, not likely. Physical contact was not even something she liked to allow her family, usually; but this mare...

"You have a nice mane too," Vinyl said kindly, running her hoof through Octavia's mane, much to the cellist's bewilderment. "It's soft and smooth. I like it." The white unicorn leaned closer, obviously lacking any understanding of what 'personal space' was.

"I... I really really need to go!" Octavia jerked up frantically, flushing fiercely at the mare's touch. "I have a very very important-"

"Octavia, your coffee and cookie!" the barista mare called out, returning from the kitchen, levitating a plate and a cup with a smile - not the kind of trademark smile for such establishments, but a genuine smile of a mare who truly enjoyed and loved life.

"Come on, Octy, you haven't even drank your coffee," Vinyl observed, pointing her hoof at the barista impolitely. "Stay."

Frowning at the lack of please, Octavia trotted towards the counter with a sigh. "Drunk, Vinyl. Not 'drank'. 'Drunk'," she dropped, picking up the tray in her teeth and trotting back to the table.

"I'm not drunk," the unicorn protested. "Yet." She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. "I suppose I'll buy a pint of tequila in the evening."

Octavia sighed as she placed herself back on her seat, rubbing her temples with the tips of her hooves. Somehow, this mare was already giving her a headache. "Vinyl, you don't drink tequila in pints." The cellist took a sip of her too-hot coffee, her tongue immediately feeling numb. The mare chewed on it experimentally. Owie. "You drink tequila in shots."

Vinyl raised her brow, chewing her teeth into the cake. "You an expert in booze?" she asked, with hints of disbelief, which, to Octavia, seemed ridiculous, especially considering that the white mare resembled her in mane-do, spectacles, and choice of coffee. The cellist wouldn't be surprised if she learnt that Vinyl, too, had a blue diary just like hers.

"I don't drink alcohol," Octavia explained, taking a bite of her cookie - warm and soft, as it should be. "Besides, I'm underage." Taking a glance at Vinyl's bemused expression, the unicorn's mouth slightly agape - or just open in chewing? - she clarified, "I'm seventeen."

"Soooo...." Vinyl grinned, right after gulping down the remains of the cake. "You're a year younger than me, am I right?"

"No." Octavia frowned indignantly, tossing her mane back, her eyes closing for a millisecond. "I'm turning eighteen in October." And I'll be a mature uni student! Eee~ she squeed mentally to herself.

"That's awesome!" Vinyl chanted, grabbing her own coffee cup and taking a hearty sip. "We should totally hang out after that." The mare paused. "Drink a pint of tequila, too."

Octavia let out a sigh, putting on a strained smile. "Sure." Never. The cellist looked at the coffee cup sadly, knowing she'd have to leave it. But time doesn't wait. Besides, it wasn't like she wanted to stay here with this crazy mare... Vinyl. "Vinyl, I'm really sorry-" Octavia got up. No, I'm not. "But I really have to go. I'll be late."

"Oh." Vinyl's face faded slightly. "Okay..." For a moment, the white mare was silent, before letting out in a sad whisper, "It's just... my birthday. And nopony is here to celebrate it with me."

Octavia pondered for a moment. Then sighed and returned to her seat, cursing her good nature and upbringing. "Okay. It's just that I'll really need to go in a few minutes. Word of honour." The cellist smirked at Vinyl's ears rising from their droopy position at her return. "And when I leave, you can go and have a pint of tequila." Or whatever you want.

"Yay booze!" Vinyl closed her eyes, cute wrinkles forming on her face.

Octavia smiled, taking a sip of her coffee, and, simultaneously, taking a glance out of the window. The busy street roared with shouts of vendors and hoofstomps; the moaning of cab wheels mixed with the loud swishing of the afternoon wind. A kind summer heat entered the small cafe through the open window, sunlight dancing on the tables and the counter, near-invisible motes of dust waltzing in the air.

Busy businesspony and lazy roamers drifted about the city, the tick-tack hammering of hooves always, always being the everpresent, omnipresent hum of the streets. The silence of the coffee shop was not shared by neighbouring establishments, which, Octavia knew, included a manedresser's, a few cafes, and a full-blown restraurant crowning the street regally, situated rather far from its small-cafe sisters. The cafes buzzed with electric ambience, while the restaurant, serving a poor resemblance of Prench cuisine, blared with electronic trance and what they called 'progressive' house. Nothing progressive about crappy electronic music, Octavia thought mildly.

"What kind of music do you like?" Vinyl asked suddenly, making Octavia all but spit out her coffee.

The cellist turned her attention to the white mare, squinting her eyes. She... Can't read my mind, can she? "I... I tend to enjoy classical." Remembering most modern ponies' attitude towards her favourite genre, she quickly added, "I also like jazz very much."

Vinyl nodded eagerly. "Me too! Jazz is awesome. What do you like more: swing, bebop, nu-jazz?"

Octavia smiled, for once thankful for a nice discussion on a topic she could actually relate to. "Cool jazz, mostly. Though, bebop is good too." To some extents. Octavia took a sip of her coffee.

"I like piano trios," Vinyl replied, eyeing the empty plate where the cake had been resting with unspoken sadness in her eyes. "Just a piano, a bass, and the drums. Theloneighous Monk, too, when there's no sax."

"You don't like brass?" Octavia wondered in surprise. "I always thought a trumpet and a sax were two key instruments for jazz."

Vinyl shrugged idly. "I dunno. I play the piano and the drums, so I may be biased. A little bass too," she added. "If only I could play them simultaneously..."

Don't you have any musician friends to jam with? Octavia thought, but kept the question to herself. "I play the cello," she said, if only to break the silence.

"You..." Vinyl rubbed her nose in a silly - yet rather cute - motion. "You can't really play jazz with a cello." In a moment, she added, "I think."

"Yes you can," Octavia countered, downing her now-cooling coffee in a few gulps. "Oscolt Pettiford did. And I play classical, remember?"

"Oh." Vinyl nodded sagely - a gesture that made her look like a filly, infinitely younger than Octavia herself. The cellist chuckled at the relative cuteness and absurdity of the motion. "I see."

Octavia looked at the white plastic clock hanging at the wall, covered with slight grey grime. Three o'clock. With a deep sigh, the cellist stood up. "Look, Vinyl, I'd really love to stay with you, but I do have an urgent matter at hoof."

Vinyl's ears drooped, her eyes fading, fixed on the floor. "Okay, I guess." With a sad, heart-wrenching hope, she glanced up, making Octavia wonder if the strange mare had ever had friends. "Not even a goodbye birthday hug?"

Octavia's eye twitched slightly as she struggled with her inner protest. It is her birthday, after all. Yes, she's just a stranger... and just strange, per se... But look how sad she is! Putting on a smile, Octavia took a step towards the unicorn, giving her shoulders a tiny hug, which, on Vinyl's side, grew into a firm, strong embrace.

Shivering a little from the mare's surprisingly tender touch, Octavia waved at Vinyl from the doorway with a smile. "Happy birthday, Vinyl!"

With that, she disappeared, walking out, into the hot summer day.

***

Needless to say, dear diary, the papers were signed, and mom paid the sum in full at once. I was officially made a student. Can't really say how I feel now. Happy, true. But mostly I just feel tired. It was a long day, and a strange one at that.

This mare...

The ponies you meet, I guess.

I can only guess what the future will bring, but I hope that, whatever it is, it will be wonderful. I will try to keep weekly notes as soon as I have begun my studies.

Octavia Philarmonica, August 27th