Octavia Hates The Number Three
Three Should Burn in Tartarus
Octavia Philharmonica was a beautifully talented musician who could play her cello better than any pony else in the Canterlot Orchestra. She was raised in the south of Equestria, born into a rich family and eventually succeeding her goal of being one of Equestria's best cellists. In fact, she was so gifted that more than often, the gray mare was invited to play as either an honorary member of a band or at a large event. Ever since Frederick Horseshoepin and Beauty Brass had recruited her into their now complete quartet, Octavia had been on the receiving end of music requests, resulting in the earth pony travelling to various places around Equestria to play in festivals, birthday parties and so on. Therefore, she was exhausted and Frederick, seeing his student's state, had given her a week off. During that week, Octavia mainly slept and didn't have much time for requests. Despite the fact she hated to disappoint, her schedule was so busy that she had to reluctantly turn down a rich guitarist's offer of playing at his daughter's party. Her name was Zipper- something. Octavia had hoped that they had found a suitable replacement.
But Octavia liked to think that even the bravest warriors have to earn some sleep. That was her life motto. Besides, her dreams weren't that bad, as they normally consisted of winning some sort of achievement from royalty. The only downside was that when she woke up, as Octavia couldn't help but sigh. Oh, how dearly she wished some Princess would actually do that for her. But whenever she thought that, she snapped herself back to attention. Princesses didn't just hand out random awards to random musicians. You had to earn it. She might be a fantastic cellist, but her skills were not as good as some of the other instrument players.
Ding dong!
Octavia groaned and wrapped her pillow around her head. She cracked open her groggy eyes an inch to take a look at the digital clock resting on her bedside cabinet. It was three o'clock. In the morning. If she had her eyes open, Octavia would have rolled her pupils. What sort of sane pony would ring at this time?
Ding dong!
Yep. Whoever was forcing her away from her sleep was definitely not sane. Completely insane. A lunatic. With mental health issues.
Ding dong!
Sighing, Octavia rolled herself into the warm covers of her bed sheets. She kept on rolling, her duvet cover going with her, until she was fully cocooned and on the edge of the bed. The cellist took a deep breath and squeezed her dry eyes close together as she took the final roll off the bed.
The impact with the soft carpet wasn't that hard, what with Octavia's fluffy grey duvet cover wrapped around her, but all the same it was hard enough to shake her out of her groggy stature. She lay on the ground and sighed deeply, content to just lie there.
Ding dong!
Octavia's eyes snapped open. Gosh, whoever wanted to get her must be desperate. Normally, on the second ring they'd have left the house. Maybe it was a stallion who wanted to court her. Several came to her house last Hearts and Hooves day, and if she was young enough to remember, a few mares visited as well. But who would want to dats her at three in the morning...? They definitely didn't know how to put on a good impression. Yes. She needed to see who this was.
Hastily, Octavia threw her covers scraggily onto her bed and grabbed her night gown, wrapping herself in it. She grabbed her precious grey hairbrush and trotted briskly down the stairs, attempting to brush her messy black mane, tie her night gown and see to whoever wanted her so desperately at the same time. Doing three things at once proved to be not possible for earth pony musicians, as the cellist tripped over her own hooves and fell into a groaning heap at the bottom of the staircase.
Celestia, how she hated the number three.
Octavia composed herself. What was she doing, dilly-dallying like this? Anger started to grow in the middle of her stomach. Who dare do this to her? Who dare wake her up? Who dare trip her over? Who dare make her hate the number three?
She had had enough.
The cellist flung open her front door, holding her hairbrush in her teeth, and was all prepared to punish this terrible pony who dare make her angry. "Who are-" Octavia started, but then stopped as she saw who she was talking to. Three frightened fillies were on her doorstep. A white unicorn with a curly mane was in the middle, an orange pegasus with unruly hair to the right, and a yellow earth pony who had a pink ribbon tied to her hair to the left. They were posed like they were running; like they were playing Knock - A - Door - Run. But all the same. Three fillies on her doorstep. At three o'clock in the morning.
"...what the heck..."
* * *
Octavia sat down at the kitchen table, opposite the three fillies. She almost felt sorry for them, they looked frightened out of their wits, if not for the anger she felt about being woken up so abruptly. Feeling the ball of frustration building up inside her, the cellist immediately took a sip of her coffee, sighing in content as the warm liquid ran through her body. Octavia have a little shudder of happiness before remembering where she was and what she was doing. Her eyes hardened once again. She was going to teach a lesson to these intruding fillies that they'd never forget.
"Uh....would you care for some hot chocolate?" Was what Octavia heard come out of her mouth. She couldn't bring herself to shout at them. Maybe at a grown-up stallion or mare, perhaps even a teenager. But not these little things. That was like picking on Bambi, or something.
The fillies didn't even respond, trembling in front of the cellist, their ears well back and tails hanging low over their seats.
'Okay,' Octavia thought. 'They must be really scared.' She brought a hoof to her face and groaned. Her head was throbbing -and not with happiness. She couldn't bring herself to shout at the fillies. "Argh - just, just go!"
* * *
Beauty Brass frowned. "Three fillies? A unicorn, pegasus and earth pony, right?" When Octavia didn't respond, she sighed. "No wonder, Tavia. Those three fillies are famous in Ponyville. It's unlucky you had to stay there." Her voice crackled from the telephone.
Octavia raised a thin eyebrow, even though she knew Beauty couldn't see her. "Oh? Are they film actresses?"
She could a slapping sound as if some pony was face-hoofing. The cellist couldn't help but smile at her best friend's actions. "Of course not, Tavia. They're a troublesome lot, I've heard. Brought a lot of worry to the Mayor Mare. Every time I visit my ma in Ponyville, I'm looking out for them. Honestly, you're really unlucky."
'Yes, I agree with you there, Beauty Brass.' Octavia thought bitterly. "Oh? And how exactly do you know these are not rumours?"
"Tavia, I was born in Ponyville."
"I fail to see your point."
"I was born in Ponyville."
"I still fail to see it."
Octavia could hear the smile in Beauty's voice. "Haha. Very funny," Her voice lowered slightly. "Uh, so what've you been playing on your cello lately?"
She thought for a moment, then spoke again; "Third position. I find it absurdly difficult."
"I know. Harpo's always teasing you about it."
"He doesn't even know how to play a cello," Octavia muttered. "Let alone a violin or viola. All he can play is that big massive harp." She recovered herself. "Do you want to here it?"
"Sure," was Beauty's reply. "Why not?"
"Why not indeed?"
* * *
Octavia closed her eyes in concentration as she pushed her hoof downwards into third position. There were only three objects revolving around her at the moment: the cello, bow and music. But it wasn't a good idea to play third position with your eyes closed and with a hoof. She heard a horrible twang! come from the musical instrument.
'Huh?' was all she could think before two more twangs! were heard.
"Tavia?" Beauty Brass asked nervously from the telephone, a scared edge to her voice.
"Don't worry, Beauty. Everything is under -" Octavia opened her eyes and looked at her cello. Her pupils shrunk. "- control."
"I take it it isn't anymore?" Beauty asked. When she didn't here an answer, she sounded really quite worried and anxious. "Tavia? What happened?"
"Three of my strings snapped." Octavia said quietly, her throat tightening, tears threatening to spill. They weren't coming because of the strings, oh Celestia, she wasn't that sensitive, neither did sadness or regret control them. Actually, regret did control it a little. Regret that she got out of bed that morning. But most of it was frustration and anger. Octavia hated the number three. It was her worst enemy. It should burn in Tartarus, feed it to some rabid lions. She felt like screaming, but she didn't want to show such a weakness in front of her friend.
"Three?! Oh, I'm so sorry, Octavia!" And Beauty actually did sound sorry. "There's a train leaving for Canterlot in half an hour; maybe you should catch it to get some of your special strings from Frederick? You'll also be away from those fillies, so there's another pro."
"Oh, of cou-" She stopped herself and considered what her friend had just said. "What platform is it leaving at?"
Beauty sounded confused as she replied and Octavia understood why. "Platform Number Three. Why? Are you going to come?"
Platform Number Three. Why hadn't she guessed? She'd honestly rather live with those fillies than go on Platform Number Three. Octavia opened her mouth.
"Tavia? What's wr-"
She screamed.