Prologue: A Cello Singing Softly in the Silence
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The Vampirization of Octavia Melody

Prologue: A Cello Singing Softly in the Silence

Prologue: A Cello Singing Softly in the Silence

~The Vampirization of Octavia Melody~

　　Silence hung in the hall like spiderwebs from trees as her final note soon ended, the soft song fading away into silence while she slowly slid her bow across the strings of her cello. It felt like ages that the note was hanging there, a small, beautiful note at the end of a series of turmoil and discord among the other instruments. Like a flower sprouting in an old battlefield, she had always liked to think. All eyes were practically glued to her as she slowly lifted and then lowered the slender piece of wood strung with her own tail hairs. Then, as if some small pin was dropped onto the floor, a single pony’s hooves clapped together and tore apart the blanket of awe that was smothering the crowd, giving way to a huge uproar of applause that was by far the loudest that the group had ever gotten. The entire ensemble stood, bowing before the crowd to gratefully accept the clapping and even the whistles that a few ponies were blowing their way.
　　
　　“That was amazing, Octy!” She flashed a glare at one of her companions, a earth pony stallion by the name of Six Strings and one she had the unfortunate pleasure of knowing for the past two years. He shut his mouth, thankfully, but she knew that more was to come once they had filed off of the stage. She couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she turned away to follow the front row of musicians off, mentally bracing herself for the stallion’s annoying praise and casualness that was unbefitting of a pony addressing one of her caliber.
　　
　　As she walked over to her cello’s case she glanced about the darkened back room, giving a small smile to her fellow performers who played admirably tonight, noting in the back of her mind how they only timidly acknowledged her in return. And as well the should, she thought to herself, it’s not every day you get to work with one who has played for the princess. A few moments of peace was all she had, within which she had pulled her cello’s case down from its spot against the wall and had only just placed her instrument into the custom-made lining, before Six Strings had reappeared by her side. “What is it you want, Strings?”
　　
　　The small scoff that the stallion had made was enough to make her roll her eyes again, but instead she contented herself to glaring at the dark green stallion who had so annoyingly approached her. “Aw come on, Octy, don’t be like that!” The flash of anger in her eyes was enough to stop the repeating of that ridiculous nickname that he had given her shortly after they had had their first performance together. “I just wanted to say that you played wonderfully tonight, Octavia!”
　　
　　Of course, Octavia didn’t stop her glaring as she slammed the top of her case down a little harder than was absolutely necessary, but instead she hardened her look of scorn for the stallion in the hopes that he would leave her alone, even though she knew it would do next to nothing to get rid of him. “I appreciate the compliment, Strings, however, I am not an idiot.” She held up a hoof to stop his response to that and, for once, he had actually remained silent. “Just simply tell me what you want, so that I may say no and continue on my way home where there is a nice book and a chair waiting for me to return.”
　　
　　“Well, first off I believe I am a good deal more interesting tha—” Octavia’s snort soon cut off that line of conversation while her glare made sure that the talk did not return to it, but just as easily as he managed to annoy her, Six Strings jumped to a new track. “I really wanted to just say that it was a wonderful perf—” Another glare soon cut that sentence off short as well, and with a defeated sigh the persistent stallion finally accepted defeat. “Fine. I wanted to ask if you would be interested in coming with me to the Prancing Hoof tonight to celebrate the show going off so well tonight.”
　　
　　Octavia’s eyes blinked once and then widened before she could stop them, her surprise apparently evident on her face because the stallion simply chuckled some and smiled triumphantly down at her. She stood up with an angry huff, directed to both herself and to the pony before her, hooking her hoof under the handle of her cello and hoisting it up some as she raised an eyebrow at Six Strings. “Oh? And have you invited the rest of our ensemble, or will they not be included in the celebration of the performance that they also performed in?” She had grown louder towards the end of her accusation so that the rest of the group could hear of the stallion’s disregard for their parts. After years in the performing arts, Octavia had learned that the worst thing you could do is not acknowledge a pony for their part in the show, and much to her glee the others all began to glare right at the stallion, no doubt causing the hairs on his neck to rise.
　　
　　Much to his credit, Six Strings managed to keep a straight face as he continued to smile at Octavia, though some of the cheerfulness in his eyes was replaced with a hint of frustration. “Well, I had planned to take you to dinner alone, as, well, your part in the performance was much bette— Hey! Where are you going!?” All it had taken was his hoof on her shoulder to light the anger that was welling up inside Octavia’s chest.
　　
　　She spun around, knocking away the stallion’s hoof while at the same time pushing herself up into his face, slamming her instrument case down onto the floor as she brought her hoof into his chest forcefully. “Six Strings, you of all ponies should know how I loathe being forced to converse with you, a pony of lower place than I.” While her voice was simply a low growl, the anger underneath the words spoke of an ocean of rage just waiting to swallow anything in its path. “It is something that one does not do in our community, yet you continually refuse to understand that. Every time we meet you harass me with praise and try to take me out to dinner with you, but some part of your thick-headed skull refuses to take no for an answer.” She leaned in even closer so that her nose was pressing against his. “So, for the last time, I will not have dinner with one such as you, for you are not worth my evening nor my attention any longer.” And then, just as suddenly as she had spun to face the stallion, Octavia turned angrily back towards the exit and snatched up her instrument case before stomping her way out into the lobby where a crowd of audience members were waiting to converse with her, though in her anger she simply pushed past them with a few mumbled apologies and half-uttered reasons as to why she simply couldn’t stay any longer.
　　
　　After a few moments of chaos and noise, she found herself looking out onto the abandoned street ahead, only partially lit by the warm light from the performance hall behind her, though the cold of the particularly cold winter wasn’t heated at all by the yellows and oranges that were thrown onto the surfaces of the slowly falling snow. With a small, shaky breath, Octavia set out into the cold of the night in the hopes that she could make it back to her warm fireplace quickly enough so that she could be free from further harassment by that incorrigible stallion. Octavia found her breath coming on a little easier with each breath as she got further away from the hall, though her instrument was beginning to grow quite heavy with each passing city block. Normally she would have the help of her personal aide to carry the thing home, but she had taken a day to rest herself after she had been nearly stampeded by Octavia’s admirers at their last event together, one that Octavia had given somewhat reluctantly. Normally she would have hired another to assist her, but tonight’s event was suddenly thrust into her notice by way of a last-minute reminder that she had been invited, as the first letter had been lost in the depths of the Equestrian Mail Service.
　　
　　Her cello thudded against the ground heavily, having slipped out of her slightly-shaking hooves. She had brought along a fleece coat to wear against the biting cold outside, though right now it was still hanging forgotten on the coat hook backstage where she had set it aside. “St-st-stupid st-stallion... Always p-pestering me.” Octavia bent down to grab her instrument again, her numb hooves scrabbling against its smooth case for a few moments before finally managing to grab hold of the handle. Snorting away the snowflakes that had lighted on her nose, she continued to push her way through the snow that had piled up to the point of being halfway up her legs, her thin dress providing very little protection from the chill.
　　
　　It was when she turned down the all-too-familiar street that her home was on that her cello fell down again, this time just a minute or two of walking away from her front door. As she bent down to snatch it back up a sound from her right sent a small shiver down her spine that the cold had very little to do with. When she jerked up and spun to face whoever or whatever was there, however, there was nothing but a small can rolling over the relatively clear alleyway. “H-hello? Is anypony there?”
　　
　　What she heard next was something she would never expect to hear in a neighborhood like the one she lived in, where the scum who lived in the street were dealt with swiftly and efficiently. A low gravely voice, as if the pony it had belonged to had swallowed shards of glass, answered her question from somewhere behind her. “No, there is no pony here besides you, my dear.”