Life's Left Hook

You walk out the bathroom door, find your clothes, and slide them on.

"Let's go once you're done drying off. We want to get good seats so we can see Octavia."

She nods.

"Yeah, gotcha. You wearing your fancy hyooman clothes?"

You nod back.

"Heh, yeah, I am," you say, buttoning up your dress shirt.

After your pants, dress shirt, socks, and shoes are on, you grab your blood red tie.

You mutter to yourself as you tie it around your neck.

"Over, around, right in the hole..."

Scootaloo cocks an eyebrow at your odd behavior, but doesn't say anything.

A little embarrassed, you turn away and grab your blazer.

You slide it on with ease, button the top button and the top button only, and look at Scootaloo.

"All right. I'll be waiting on the couch for you to be ready."

"Uh-huh!" she hollers, still drying herself off.

She's using her mouth and her hind legs with the grace of a pregnant yak.

It's an... Odd sight, but you contain your laughter for her sake.

Soon enough, she comes bounding out of the bathroom, right up to you.

"Okay, Nonny. I'm ready to go!"

A warm smile comes onto your face.

She's definitely a lot better than before.

You stand up, walking to the door.

"All right. Let's head out, then. It's a trek to the concert hall, just so you know."

"Eh, that's okay. I trot a lot."

With that, the two of you head out.

"See you later, Cadance!"

"Have fun at the concert!"

The door latches behind you, and the two of you make your way out of the hotel.

As you walk down the streets, the looks you get are...

Well, not welcoming, to say the least.

They're all a bunch of "I can do anything better than you" hoity-toity ponies.

You can barely stand ponies like that.

But, you ignore them.

A fair amount of them don't even give you a passing glance, anyhow.

Besides, you're far too captivated with the absolutely fabulous skyline.

The buildings are tall,  almost as much so as the country's collective ego.

And everything?

Everything is absolutely.

Fucking.

Pristine.

It's an OCD paradise.

Spare the abstract architecture, of course.

Which is still cool to look at.

Finally, the two of you reach the concert hall.

Ponies are flocking in already, speaking in their native tongue.

You pick Scootaloo up so she doesn't get trampled, holding her under your arm.

She doesn't resist at all.

"Front row or up high?"

"I wanna go up high!"

So Scootaloo said, and so it shall be.

With that, you check in with the ticketmaster.

The mare is probably one of the most pompous of all, concerning her makeup and attire.

Hopefully tickets aren't expensive.

"Boonjar," you say, walking up to her.

She gives you a quizzical look.

"Ugh, merde, just... Speak Eqvestrian. Don't stomp on my langvage," she says, clearly irritated.

"...Okay then."

Sheesh.

"I need tickets for the concert."

"No you don't."

You blink.

"What?"

You saw a sign not long ago.

'Tickets Required for Admission—-12##'

You don't remember the symbol, but you could only assume they're not bits.

"You zink you are hard to recognise? I know who you are," she says, no emotion on her face. "You need no ticket. Go ahead. And take your..."

She gives Scootaloo a blunt look.

"Vittle... Child, vis you."

Oh, god, now they think you have a kid.

Just fucking dandy.

Not that you would mind having Scootaloo as your kid.

But still, that's gotta look back.

Either way, you nod your head, say thank you, and take a right to head up the stairs.

You can hear the hum of strings in the background.

Sounds like they're warming up.

You and Scootaloo quickly make your way up the stairs.

After going up what must be at least five stories, you finally reach the top floor.

As you step out to where the seating is, the absolutely astonishing view of the auditorium is revealed.

You thought the one in Canterlot was magnificent, with all of its intricate stone design and incredible detail?

This place is even more so—every square inch that you can see is some sort of decorative design.

Certain spots, like along the walls above where the seats are, are plated in gold.

Said gold has what appear to be inscriptons.

The gold plated portions of the wall depict a familiar sight or two, to say the least.

They reminded you of the stained glass windows in Canterlot Castle.

You can see Discord on one of them, as well as a few other symbolic moments, like the Equestrian uprising.

Gems are littered about, adding emphasis on all of the little graphical details around the auditorium.

Some are in the place of Discord's eyes, both bright rubies.

A dark sapphire is in place of Luna's one visible eye, and a vibrant topaz in Celestia's.

On the far side of the room, you can pick out what you could guess was a Nightmare Moon scene.

You could see a stone moon protruding from the walls, complete with the Nightmare itself, as well as a mourning Celestia.

Others depict the summer sun celebration, and various other historical events.

The biggest one of all, however?

The roof.

The roof is one gigantic stained-glass mosaic, depicting a golden Celestia, an azure princess, as well as giant colored symbols for all six of the elements.

It's absolutely huge, and the light that shines down perfectly on the stage is fabulous.

The lighting of the auditorium all came from the sun, via this stained glass window.

And something unbelievable dawns on you, only after a long moment of inspection.

That shit isn't glass.

Those are nothing short of gargantuan, masterfully carved gems placed on the roof of the auditorium.

Scootaloo is at least thrice as mesmerized as you are.

Her eyes are wide, and she stares with a low jaw.

There's absolutely no way they had this much fucking wealth to spare.

With that, you look around for a brochure.

There has to be some sort of information on this shit.

Are they fake?

Is this some sort of damned monument?

If so, holy shit, Celly.

Eventually, you do find a brochure, under your seat.

Written in Prench.

Of course.

You sigh, and look around.

"Un vue magnifique, hm?"

A deep voice rumbles from behind you.

You turn your head, an eyebrow raised.

You see a tall, lanky stallion, with a bluish-grey coat and a dark blue uniform, complete with a hat and a pointed mustache.

The pony you see is clearly an usher of sorts, due to his apparel.

He was almost as proper as Spitfire in a uniform.

Well, fake Spitfire.

Who might as well be real Spitfire.

But let's not get distracted.

You understood what he said, based on your limited knowledge of roots and his tone.

With that, you nod.

"Yeah. Wow."

Scootaloo looks over as well, looking at the man.

"Dude, what's up with this place?"

He smiles knowingly.

"Ah, you know not of ze auditorium in Guadeloope? It is a very important historical landmark."

You shrug.

"I'm not good at my history. I only arrived in Equestria a few years ago."

"Yeah, and I'm barely into Ponyville's history in Cheerilee's class," Scootaloo chimes in.

The usher nods, smiling.

He knows what's happening.

For once, someone wasn't a stuck-up asshole.

You're relieved, and thank him.

"Ah. Care for me to educate you, monsieur? I would be happy to."

"Please."

He smiles, trots a step closer to the two of you, and smiles.

Then, suddenly, he breaks character, and takes a seat.

A little improper, but it makes you feel at ease.

"Vell, you see," he starts, staring up at the roof, "long, long ago, vhen zis vonderful nation ve life in today vas forming into Eqvestria, zere vas a mare by ze name of Clover ze Clever. You have heard about hear in history books, oui?"

You're...

A little lost.

But maybe—

"Oooh! Oooh! I remember! She was that one mare! One of the founding ponies that foundeded Equestria or whatever! Twilight played as her in that one play!"

Although her words are a bit childish, the usher seems to understand.

He nods, smiling.

"Mmm, you are correct, ma petite fille. One of ze mares who founded Equestria. Some thousand years ago, she taught many many unicorns magic. Among zem vas none ozer zen Starsvirl ze Bearded."

That name you recognize.

Twilight was happy to inform you.

"I'm guessing he has something to do with this whole... Grand auditorium?"

He nods.

"Zis building vas, at vone point, a classroom. Starsvirl himself taught magic in here, to grand masses of unicorns. Among them, Celestia herself."

Your eyebrows raise in surprise.

"Wow, really?"

He nods again.

"It vas here vhere he studied ze magic of friendship for part of his life, until he moved back to Canterlot to continue his studies. Although his research never found a true conclusion, due to his lack of understanding of friendship, he vent qvite some vay. And, since his passing, ze auditorium vas used as a cathedral, of sorts, as vell as a library. Celestia ordered zis herself. Since Canterlot Castle, vhere his studies were, couldn't be modified without making her seem too grandiose, and zere veren't many. Rich, regions in ze area zat could afford a grand chapel, spare Prance, she ordered ze construction. She vanted ze grandest of buildings, for one of ze grandest of souls. Over a millenium, more knowledge, more ponies, and more magic came. It had to grow bigger and bigger -- up and out, to accommodate. And, come Luna's return, Celestia decided zat vorship of magic and friendship vas not vhat vas best -- instead, ze vorship of life, love, and happiness is vhat mattered most."

He motions up to the mosaic on the roof.

"Friendship is a very, very large part, no doubt. But, she looked at her pupils, her citizens, and her country, and realized, happiness and love came not only from friendship, but from passion, of art, song, dance, and things of ze like. Since zen, it has been an auditorium, and no doubt ze most popular and largest attraction in Guadeloope, and arguably Prance."

As he reaches the end of his sentence, the rumbling of the orchestra comes to a stop.

It seems that they're ready to play.

The usher smiles, stands up, and nods.

"I must get back to my position. Enjoy ze show, monsieur."

You smile, nodding.

"Thank you."

You can't help but feel like you just walked out of a sermon.

Soon, a very well-dressed stallion trots on stage from stage right.

The orchestra stands, and the audience applauds.

After the round of applause, the conductor grabs a microphone and, much to your surprise, starts speaking in Equestrian.

This strikes odd, since you're only in one of the cultural capitals of Prance.

But, you figure that it makes sense, concerning how many people are coming.

You just sit back and relax, most of what he's saying going over your head as your standard 'thank you for coming' speech.

Until the very end, when a change of tone catches your attention.

"And, now, we've had a special request from the Prince of himself. To honor His Highness, his country, and his people, we'll begin our concert with none other than Le Chant Du Depart."

The audience applauds loudly, and the orchestra gets ready to play.

The conductor's baton glows blue, rises, and with a downbeat, the music starts.

[www.youtube.com/watch?v=uqdxBh4ZUeM]

Yeah, this is Prench.

You can just tell.

A nation's music is like its drinks.

Germaneigh? Hard beer.

Moosiya? Vodka.

Prance?

Bubbly champagne.

This is a march.

But this is a fucking frilly march.

And, even though it is, the orchestra still makes it sound great.

Scootaloo is at attention, her ears perked and her wings out.

She's in awe, you can tell.

You never took her to be one for classical music.

But then again, the auditorium mixed with arguably the best orchestra in the world must be mesmerizing for damn near anyone.

After a good five minutes of the most pompous march you've ever heard, the conductor cuts the orchestra off.

The audience roars with the sounds of hooves coming together, and you do your best to contribute.

"Duuude! That was cool! That, like, made my fur stand on end!"

You look down at Scootaloo.

"Scoots? That was just the first song. And I don't even think that was the biggest one that they have. They usually save the best for last."

She bounces up and down in her seat, she's so excited.

"Dude, I thought those ponies with guitars and drums were cool. Well, they kinda are, and this isn't really cool, but this is awesome!"

"And your marefriend is on that stage! That's even awesomer!"

You just smile, giggling a little bit at her exuberance

"And you're telling me, Scoots."

With that, you grab the program.

Your attempts at reading it are futile, but it's more entertaining than the person speaking on stage about whatever piece it is they're playing next.

You'd rather hear for yourself.

The next piece they're playing?

"Mars Slave en Si Bémol Mineur", by some Moosiyan composer.

You fucking what, mate?

Mars Slave?

You shake your head, looking at the next piece.

"1812".

Well.

That sure says a lot.

You sigh, shaking your head as you put the program back under your seat.

At the same time, the conductor finally shuts his mouth, turns to the orchestra, and holds the baton up.

Looks like they're about to begin again.

[www.youtube.com/watch?v=aYimJfaXucE]

The low strings instantly roar to life.

You look down, and somehow, you can pick out your darling, stage left to the composer.

Although you can't remember what the placing is for chairs, you remember her saying that they're arranged from best to worst.

She's on the end of her section. Meaning she's the best or the worst.

You can only come to one logical conclusion, knowing Octavia.

Even from up here, you can see her.

Her eyes are closed, and her whole body moves with the strings.

She puts her soul into the music.

As the music grows, you sit back in your chair.

Stare any longer, and you might find yourself staring at her rump.

After the last mishap in Canterlot, you don't want to risk popping a stiffy in the concert.

And, well, Octavia's sharp, as you said; that means she sure as hell isn't flat, by any means.

One look at that ass could prove that theory right away.

But you catch yourself.

No thoughts of rump right now.

Scoots is here, and you need to be careful.

Enjoy the music, you tell yourself.

You look at Scootaloo, just to see how she's doing.

Her foreleg is lightly bouncing along with the music as they play, and you can even see one of her tiny wings twitch with the beat.

Her gaze is distant; she's staring down at the orchestra, and at the instruments of all shapes and sizes.

It was a neat sight, indeed.

Especially for someone as young and curious as Scootaloo.

As you listen, you sit back and relax.

And, even though you don't notice, at first, you start to drift off.

Your eyes have some trouble staying open, and your head is suddenly heavy.

And, then, very unexpectedly, the orchestra takes a very unexpected turn.

With a splash of a symbol and a huge dynamic change, the whole orchestra is now at a booming forte.

Your butthole puckers in surprise, and you sit straight up

Scootaloo gigglesnorts at you, but then looks back at the orchestra.

"Heh. Wakey wakey, sleepin' beauty," she teases, smiling.

"Oh, shut it."

You smile with her, and direct your attention back to the orchestra.

Even though you've seen it before, and you have been for quite some time, you can't help but stare in awe.

They're all so perfectly in sync, so expressive, and so...

Artistic.

The usher certainly made his point.

This was a place to love the arts.

The ponies in the auditorium no doubt love the art being made.

The ones making the music themselves are all clearly passionate about what they do.

Especially Octavia.

It makes you question for a moment.

Are you passionate about anything?

If you are, it's not cominng to mind.

Not right now, at least.

After a good 10 minutes or so of playing pass, the conductor cuts them off, relaxes, and turns around to take a bow as the audience applauds.

As this happens, you see some ponies roll some things on stage.

They're large, black, and covered by a white cloth.

You can't quite make out what they are, but they must be important.

There's 8 of them.

With that, you hear the whirr of a microphone being turned on.

For once, you're interested in what the conductor is about to say.

"Moving on. Now, for our next piece, we're doing another famous theme from the very same composer. A bit of background for this piece; it was composed some time after the Prench invasion of Moosiya, in celebration of their successful defense of the motherland. After many years passing, it remains one of the best orchestral pieces of all time, and although there are still some tensions between our nations, we now hope to put the past in the past, celebrate it as it is, and move forward into a new age of friendship, harmony, and peace."

The audience applauds once more, and the conductor cuts them off much like he does to his orchestra.

"To celebrate the centuries of peace between our nations, we have sixteen honorary operators on stage today. They hail proudly from all corners of the Hooviet Union; from Mooscow to Saint Cloppersberg, from Vladivoschoke to Stableclad, these officers are here to honor the peace, Prance, and Greater Equestria, as well as represent their proud nation."

"Let's give them a round of applause."

The audience does so, and as you clap your hands, you look down at the officers in question.

They're all in full military garb.

But, more notably, they aren't ponies.

They're cows.

And they all look almost exactly the same.

Their posture is unwavering and almost robotic, much like those toy soldiers Scootaloo used to play with.

Their gaze is distant, staring straight forward.

Their faces are expressionless.

You actually feel a little intimidated.

As they stand, you see some motion behind them.

The conductor's baton is raised, and the orchestra is ready.

You can feel butterflies in your stomach.

Something awesome is coming, you can feel it...

[www.youtube.com/watch?v=-BbT0E990IQ]

It starts out calm and relaxing.

The strings are gentle and beautiful, yet full of sound.

You sit back, relaxing with the sound.

Scootaloo does the same.

You even catch her dozing off a bit, after about a minute passes.

You suppose that strings have their magics, if played right.

This orchestra certainly knows what it's doing.

But then, the pace starts to pick up.

And, as time passes, the mood changes, from fast and rough, to a fantastic fanfare, to violin melodies belonging in the aether.

The whole overture is just one gigantic rollercoaster, and as it goes by, you don't know what to expect next.

Your  ears are in an absolute bliss, and more than once, you take a deep breath from the beautiful sounds.

You can feel your heart beating in your chest as the orchestra plays.

It almost skips a beat, even, when you see the Hooviet officers take the cloths off of the contraptions they rolled on stage earlier.

Those things aren't any typical orchestral instrument.

Those are nothing short of metal cannons.

Ones that, from what you can tell, have seen some use.

Slowly, the orchestra does a grand rallentando.

The brass blares, the percussion pounds, and the chimes let loose a stream of cacophony.

As the orchestra gets slower, broader, and grander, you get an overwhelming feeling of suspense.

Said feeling only grows as the officials shift.

One of them slides something in the barrel of the cannon.

Another grabs what appears to be a string behind the cannon.

Suddenly, the orchestra does a total shift.

The tempo at least triples, and the trumpets let out a light, prancing fanfare.

Then, on the 5th downbeat, a loud, sudden blast comes from stage.

You can feel the rumble go through your chest, and the whole building shakes.

The crack resonates in the auditorium, and—

You think Scootaloo just shit herself.

The brass keeps playing their iconic melody, while another cannon lets out another loud boom with the beat.

The low brass comes in, playing with such vigor, you can't help but have your chest swell.

Another round of blank cannon fire goes off, and the entire orchestra only grows in power as they keep playing.

But, finally, you can hear the end coming.

There's a long drumroll, and after a few loud notes from the trumpet section, the entire orchestra tunes into one large, grand chord in the finale.

And, from onstage, overpowering the entire orchestra at a forte, you hear one of the cows scream.

"FOR THE MOTHERLAAAAND!"

As the orchestra lets off of the chord, you hear one last explosion.