Downturn

Octavia stands on all fours, setting her prized possession down by her hooves. She’s practiced enough for this event; a solid one and a half hours of sliding her wooden, high quality bow gently on the strings of her instrument. This should amount to enough practice for this, right?

She sighs. Octavia couldn’t fail again, that feeling of utter simply nudging her skull now like a foal who wouldn’t stop crying in her ear. She didn’t know if she could deal with it anymore, but she has to try.

She has a reason to play, one that will be in the audience tonight.

Octavia carefully stands up and looks in the mirror, observing her face. She needs a bit of a cleaning, the sweat on her forehead sliding down her face and onto the floor.

“Best I take a little shower,” she says to her sweating reflection. “I got to impress Soarin tonight if I want to keep this job.”

A small blush slowly appears on the reflection’s face, her eyes shimmering back at the real Octavia. She never thought of a stallion outside her troupe like this before. She wants to impress him, she wants to make him look good, and she can’t wait to speak to him again. Soarin even promised her that they would talk after her performance, so there was no way she’d let that stallion leave her eyesight.

Turning her head away from the blushing reflection, Octavia gets into her bathtub and turns on the water, beginning her quick shower; the sounds of water colliding with her body are all to be heard.

Octavia tugs on her pink bow tie, trying to adjust it for the final time as she stands in front of the Golden Coral entrance. She needed to do well tonight in order to get some ponies talking. She had to nail this performance.

She sighs as she grasps the door knob with her hoof, turning it slightly before she entered. Her heart begins to beat fast, the unknown amount of ponies waiting anxiously for her arrival making her nervous. She closes her eyes, giving herself a bit of a pep talk, there was no need to be afraid. This is the first time she’s going to do this.

Just like she did when she first started even playing the cello, sitting in her room as she grasped her instrument in her left fore hoof while her right one slides the bow gently across the strings. Whenever she started to play, she would always envision the whole entire act in her head, playing the notes she heard in her head to the real performance, her eyes closed shut as the notes fluttered around her, making her calm and collective. This is her zone, her musical arena. No pony else could enter it.

She smiles and opens the door, opening her eyes to the welcoming party of…

...a mere twenty ponies.

The nervousness she had disappeared, the amount of ponies suddenly sucking her motivation out of her.

She should’ve expected this: a small local restaurant with the only advertisement out being the front window, their sign of entertainment being only half of a door length’s height that hung above the huge gallery.

“Hello, Octavia!” a familiar, rough masculine voice sounds off. “Over here!”

Octavia turns her head to her left, her eyes meeting the face of her boss. She smiles and trots over to him, her saddlebag bouncing up and down. “Why hello, Soarin,” she says with a smirk. “When am I to go on?”

“Whenever you want,” he replies as he turns to look at the tables. “Looks like you have a nice crowd tonight.”

Octavia gives him a small smile. “Yes,” she says. “It’s time to play for the first time in weeks.”

Soarin’s eyes widen. “You mean you haven’t practiced?”

Octavia chortles. “Of course I have!” Octavia puts her hoof on her boss’ shoulder. “Don’t worry! I’ve been practicing ever since!” she exclaims, making Soarin’s shocked expression slowly dissipate as she spoke.

“Well… alright,” Soarin breathes out, wiping a few sweat trails from his forehead. “I’ll be in the audience after I...” he begins, turning his attention to the bottles beside him. “...fix this issue here.”

Octavia looks at his issue; a mess of all messes. On the floor lay an abundance of liquor bottles which are scattered about in an unorganized fashion. Octavia glances back over at him, the pegasus stallion giving her a sheepish smile in return. Not only should she not allow him to be near the ranges, but she shouldn’t allow him to organize either; by the looks of his situation, she’ll have to do all the organizing.

Octavia groans as her imagination runs wild. What if she came home and he left the house in disarray as if he was a horrifying hoarder who forgot what organization meant? What if Soarin left something cooking on the range and it suddenly caught fire?

She grimaced as she turned away, unable to bear the scene any longer. It’s not something she should worry about, the terrified future of her self shall wait in agony. Right now, she has a concert to perform.

Octavia trots up to the stage: the small elevated platform welcomed her with its nice, cushioned high chair fit for a queen. She smiles for a moment, the seating arrangement reminds her of the orchestra. The lights shining on her, the crowd gazing up at the rest of the performers, and the show would begin…

...with a strong crescendo.

Octavia begins her piece with a small consistent pull, the music beginning to flow through her. She inhales deeply and closes her eyes. Octavia gives herself to the music as she plays, her hairs on the back of her neck standing on end; she couldn’t play differently, she had to play with her mind shut off from the reality that exists in front of her. She could only hear her music: the eloquent sounds of plucking and bowing of the strings of her instrument being her all.

Her instrument and herself play as one.

No one could change that.

Never again shall anypony change that.

She brings up the intensity, changing notes to her emotions; the anger seething as she plucked and bowed her instrument.

Nopony shall take her down.

Not a single one shall make fun of her again.

The show continues as the audience watches Octavia, their jaws unhinged by the strong, swift movements of her bow.

While the rest of the ponies jaws were on the floor attempting to reestablish connection once again, Soarin, who was still fixing his mishap perks up at the sounds of his employee. He couldn’t help but wonder what she looked like when she played. It sounds incredible, nothing that he’s ever heard before.

He’ll have to check this out.

Soarin swings out from behind the bar to see his employee raptured in her own little world, the music flowing out seamlessly as she calmly closed her eyes. He could see her splendor, yet he couldn’t help but wonder…

How the heck was she playing so fast?

Octavia ponders this too, her hoof sliding so far with her bow that she felt as if she was having trouble keeping up with her own music. This is the most intense part of the song, the highest peak she’ll ever hit. She didn’t intend for this to happen; the song was supposed to be a bit softer and slower, but this came out of her head, this tune of…

...of anger…

...of hatred…

...of pain.

She finally has set herself free.

She can be herself now.

And suddenly, she dropped the tone, the loud booming of her cello echos throughout the restaurant.

It was finished. The song of she wrote herself throughout her entire career in the Canterlot Orchestra has been played. Nothing more.

She opened her eyes as she slowly let the bow slide down her hoof, the heat on the bow-or hoof, she couldn’t really tell-made her eyes widen. She did it!

But she didn’t like the crowds expressions.

All of them look shocked to her almost as if to say they were upset…

...except for one.

Soarin, the stallion of her desires stands in front of her, smiling up at her. “Octavia?”

“Y-yes?” She stutters out, her voice wavering as her mind came up with horrific possibilities that Soarin didn’t li—

“I loved your performance, maybe you should play here more often?” He gives her a small wink.

“Huh?”

A pony from the audience shouts, “Yeah, please come back!”

And as soon as one spoke, the whole lot cheered and chimed in from all directions, the overwhelming praise soon combining into one cohesive voice, shouting out the name for all the ages to hear.

“Octavia!” they chant in unison.

It is a dream come true for a mare of the lone cello. Octavia couldn’t have it any better. She could feel the excitement in her music once again, something that the Canterlot Orchestra lacked for her. She felt alive on stage, she felt truly herself; nothing could stop her up there.

After taking a bow, Octavia calls out, “Soarin.” The stallion looks at her. “Can we take a seat now?”

Soarin smirks. “Of course, Octavia.” He grasps her hoof with his and pulls her over to him.

They walk over to a remote table from the crowd, the chants dying down while the normal calm music plays.

Octavia takes her seat first, sitting on the lower wooden seat. She looks up at Soarin who is now sitting down in front of her, his eyes meeting hers. Soarin puts his hoof on the table and starts the conversation. “That was an amazing performance Octavia.”

Octavia’s hoof slides over Soarin’s, the two now holding each other’s hooves. “Well thank you, Soarin,” Octavia says as a red tinge forms on both sides of her cheeks. “I’m glad you liked it…”

Soarin gives her a bright smile and squeezes her hoof. “It looks like you’re back in action.”

Octavia giggles. “You will be soon too.”

“Yeah,” Soarin says while scratching the back of his neck with his free fore hoof. “I hope…”

Octavia squeezes Soarin’s hoof in response and gives him a bright smile. “I know so.”

As they sit, the two talk in the homey restaurant as the sun begins to fade on their day.

It’s closing time now.

They’re the only two left.

Octavia and Soarin sit near the window, the rest of the occupants have left for the night. The streets are quiet, the music has died down, the cooks have left; all that’s left is two ponies under the company of the moon.

“And he just splattered himself with the punch! I couldn’t believe he did that!” Soarin says, failing to hold in his laughter. “Rapidfire couldn’t even stand foot in the office without getting picked on for the whole week!”

Octavia laughs with him as they speak about life’s many pleasures.

They talked about anything…

“Did you know I also roomed with a record salespony from Ponyville?”

“You did? Why did you do that, Octavia?”

“Oh, she needed a place to stay and since her and I have been friends before that for a while, I decided to let her in.”

...and...

“Didn’t Spitfire and you date for a while?”

“Yeah but our personalities didn’t mesh well. Plus, she’s allergic to apple pie.”

“Sounds like a major dilemma.”

“When your mare doesn’t eat apple pie, it’s time to find a new one.”

“Well, Soarin, I love apple pie.”

...everything.

“Didn’t it just make you happy up there on stage?”

Octavia smiles. “Of course.”

“I remember when I saw your orchestra playing,” Soarin says. “A lot of you didn’t look so happy…”

“That’s because we were forced to play just to stay alive…” Octavia states with melancholy. “We needed the money, especially me. I’ve been broken and sitting outside, waiting for my last of my wealth to fade.”

Soarin sighs and gives her hoof a little squeeze. “Octavia…”

“Wait, Soarin, let me finish,” she says, her gaze directly on Soarin’s as her eyes shimmer in the night light. “Y-you gave me a job without hesitation,” she begins, her voice wavering as he continues her explanation. “You’re here for me, unlike my roommate who left to go to Ponyville to live with her coltfriend.” She begins to shake in her seat. “She didn’t even say goodbye…”

Soarin simply squeezes her hoof in response. “But you have me now, right?”

Octavia looks up at Soarin, her eyes collecting with moisture as they glisten in the white night light. “Of course and I wouldn’t have it any other way…”

“Why is that?” Soarin asks. “Why would you pick me?”

Octavia glance trails down Soarin’s neck. “Well you’re attractive for a start.”

She notices Soarin’s wings begin to rise, causing her to smirk. “You’re also very nice to talk to and so…”

“Charming?”

“I don’t know if charming would fit there…”

“Oh my pride, Octavia, it’s gone!”

“And there it is,” Octavia chortles. “Maybe you should be an actor instead of a flyer, Soarin.”

Soarin rolls his eyes. “Only you give me a lifetime supply of apple pies.”

“That would be costly,” Octavia says, putting her hoof under her scrunched muzzle. “Unless I won the lottery, then that may be a possibility.”

“Possibility?” Soarin questions as his right eyebrow rises to a new height. “You’ll need a few train loads before you’ll even close to what I eat.”

“Then I’ll have to start saving then,” Octavia says with a bright smile. “Otherwise, you’ll leave for another mare who will provide you with the most apple pies.”

“You’re right, I would. Spitfire never provided,” Soarin answers, guaffing as he finished his line.

“Well then I better get started.”

“Wh—”

In one swift fluid movement, Octavia swings Soarin to her muzzle, locking them in a full blown kiss. Soarin’s wings flare out, shivering from the sudden move. His eyes are open wide while Octavia’s are closed shut. She kisses the stallion for all he’s worth as she slowly moves a hoof to his face, gently sliding her hoof on his cheek. He moans and does the same to her cheek while pulling her close.

After a few seconds, Octavia pulls away, her eyes fluttering open as she stares at the now hypnotized stallion. “Did you enjoy that?”

“V-very,” he stutters out, causing her to giggle.

“Did I break you, Soarin?”

He slowly trots over to her. “Definitely surprised me,” he says, while swinging a hoof around her and pulling her closer to him. “But I’m not complaining.”

“So is this…”

Soarin silences her with a slight peck to the lips. “Of course. Besides, why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know,” Octavia murmurs. “Because you could get any mare in the world?”

Soarin nuzzles her cheek with his. “I could, but no mare would match up to you.”

“Why?”

“Because you’re the one that brought me back to life.”

“How?”

“I was broken, barely breathing, just holding on to what I thought I could.” Soarin looks at her in the eyes, green meets with purple. “And you taught me something I will never forget…” Soarin nuzzles her playfully. “Whenever you’re down, you’ll always be able to turn it around.”