Patchwork

The ‘coronation,’ as some of the new musicians were calling it, wasn’t exactly what Octavia had expected. For one, each musician was called in one at a time to receive, read through, and sign the official paperwork. For another, not everyone had dressed up for the occasion, although over half did. But there were also some good things that Octavia hadn’t planned on: for one, since all the musicians arrived at the same time and most of them had to wait until the others got their things signed, everyone ended up hanging out in the lobby and discussing music, which was very cool. There were two pegasi Octavia found particularly interesting; they were sisters, new flutists who had the same cutie mark but mirrored. There was also the new tympanist, a somewhat muscular fellow who shared in Octavia’s pain of playing a less common instrument. (“What do you play?” “Tympani. It’s a percussion instrument.” “Oh, so you play the drums?”)

Even Vinyl seemed to be somewhat enjoying herself, though she kept itching her eye. Octavia was worried she had an infection of some sort, but Vinyl assured her that it was probably just something that flew in while they were on the carriage.

“Octavia Melody,” said Mr. Woodwinds, opening the door. A teal and red haired unicorn came bouncing out and hugged her parents as Octavia followed Mr. Woodwinds into the room.

Before any papers were produced, the other judges from the audition were introduced. The pegasus, Ms. Feathervoice, was a vocalist and skilled musician, whom often performed one-on-one training with the lowest chairs in the orchestra and ‘newbies’ such as Octavia. The unicorn, Mr. Rhythmeter, was the father of the current first-chair flutist and also a common substitute conductor for Mr. Woodwinds. While still professional, all three ponies seemed more at ease and ready to chat than they had at auditions.

“So, your name is Octavia Melody,” Mr. Rhythmeter said matter-of-factly.

“Heh… that would be correct, yes,” responded Octavia.

“Well, Ms. Melody.” Mr. Woodwinds said. “We’re going to be working together quite a lot, so why don’t you tell us a little about yourself? Where you come from, family history, that kind of thing.” He turned to Mr. Rhythmeter. “That is what common ponies talk about, isn’t it?” he joked. Everyone laughed. It made Octavia feel much more relaxed to know that even the heads of the orchestra had a sense of humor.

So, briefly, the earth pony gave them the lowdown on her life— her proud ancestry in music and how she earned her cutie mark before anyone else in her class. How she actually got a chance to perform in a smaller Canterlot band once, and how she lost her career because of an accident that was completely not her fault. Her move to Ponyville because money was tight, and how she ended up with a crazy, dubstep-loving roommate who ended up being her closest friend. Her favorite musicians and why she admired them, and her favorite pieces of music to play. Occasionally, one of the older ponies would make a comment, either to state their opinion or make some relative inside joke that Octavia didn’t understand but made the other two ponies chuckle.

“Sounds like you’ve had quite the journey, Ms. Melody,” stated Mr. Woodwinds. Octavia nodded in response.

“So,” Ms. Feathervoice asked casually, “do you have a plan for your move back to Canterlot?”

Octavia’s blood ran cold. She froze.

“Sorry… um… what?”

“Well,” laughed Ms. Feathervoice, “you have until the spring. I didn’t mean to make you feel rushed. I was just curious, since you’d mentioned you were staying with your grandmother for Hearth’s Warming. Are you planning on moving in with her? Or,” she giggled a little, “is once a year more than enough for seeing your family? I could relate.”

Mr. Rhythmeter leaned over to her and whispered, “Mrs. Harshwhinny?”, evoking a chuckle from the pegasus.

“I… I’m sorry,” Octavia stammered, shaking her head. “It had completely slipped my mind that the rules state you need to live in Canterlot in order to be part of the orchestra.” Because the pony had grown up in Canterlot and hadn’t planned on moving, she’d never given the rule very much thought before.

The three judges were silent for a moment, then roared with laughter so loud, Octavia wondered if the other musicians in the lobby could hear.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” Mr. Woodwinds said. “I once had a tuba player come in for auditions and he remembered to bring everything except his tuba.”

“Luckily for you,” Ms. Feathervoice commented, “you already have a situation set up! I’m sure your grandmother wouldn’t mind hosting you at her home, if she really has all those extra rooms. And if you do decide you want to move into your own place… well, follow the practicing regimen and do well in the orchestra, and soon your salary will permit it!”

The pegasus’ voice was nothing more than a quiet babble in the back of Octavia’s mind. Flashes of memories flitted around, worse than the thought-butterflies from before. She tried to shake herself off.

“I… I’m so sorry. I just-“ she hesitated, staring at the papers in front of her. “Do you mind if I go for a walk? I- I promise I’ll come back,” she said, trying to make a joke. The others looked at each other, somewhat concerned.

“Well, I suppose just this once. But do know that when you’re actually in the orchestra, unplanned breaks will not be permitted. Are you sure you wouldn’t rather sign the papers before you go on your walk?” asked Mr. Woodwinds.

“N-no, I’m sure. Um- thank you very much. I’ll try to be quick. Y-you can call in the next musician until I come back, if that’ll be more convenient for you. I can wait.” Then Octavia rushed out the door before she said something stupid.

Outside, the bitter cold immediately slapped her in the face. Without the glowing excitement that had been present on the way there, the snow seemed less of a beautiful novelty and more of a hypothermic threat. Octavia was careful not to step in it.

Canterlot, she thought to herself. Of all the things to forget…

It wasn’t that she disliked Canterlot— quite the contrary. It was the most beautiful place in Equestria as far as Octavia was concerned, and as the judges had mentioned, she already had someplace to go. Grandma Melody only disliked Martha because her cutie mark wasn’t music-related; Octavia was welcome anytime. And it wasn’t that she couldn’t bear to leave Ponyville behind— of course, she had made quite a few memories there, and there were a couple shops she would miss, but Octavia had already lived through that ordeal the first time she moved. She could adjust to new surroundings well enough.

The sound of clopping feet became slower as the pony found herself approaching one of the apartment buildings she’d been musing over several days ago. The building seemed even more chaotic than before— now there were not only variants of Hearth’s Warming decorations up, but some ponies had redecorated for New Year’s already, and Octavia noticed one space she hadn’t before, which was decorated for some foreign holiday, with blue streamers and fake candles lining the porch.

Octavia took in a deep breath. Cold night air filled her lungs, and when she exhaled, a cloud of hot steam dissipated into the atmosphere. A sudden, vivid memory, brought on by the cold, rushed to the front of her mind.

A young filly, who had just earned her cutie mark, was being treated to go shopping with her mom to celebrate. The older pony was walking down the avenue stiffly, and the little one was trying to mimic her movements.

“That’s good, Octavia,” she had said, “but you must stop looking at your feet. Holding your head high is very important.”

The little filly did so, and was suddenly aware of the giant building next to her.

“Mama,” she asked, slight disgust in her young voice, “why is this building not color-coordinated? There’s contrasting colors all over the place.”

The mare laughed proudly and motioned for her daughter to keep up. “How smart of you to notice. You see, that’s an apartment building— it’s for ponies that are too poor to own a house. It’s not a bad thing, actually, it’s very helpful for those not as inherently talented as you and I. It does look dreadful, though, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, but why?” asked the filly, clearly distraught by the mismatched building.

“Each porch that you see on an apartment building is owned by a different pony. And each pony decorates his or her porch differently, come the holiday season. Even if everypony’s space looks good individually, since there isn’t a pony at the top to coordinate it all, the whole building ends up looking like a mess.” She shook her head disdainfully. “Shame, really. Such a big building should have the potential to be beautiful, but because multiple ponies are working on it, it looks horrid.” She looked down at her little girl. “Does this make you better understand why we need ponies in charge? Without somepony at the top, everything would look as messy as this building.”

The young pony nodded thoughtfully in agreement with her mother.

“You know everything,” she said fondly, evoking a chuckle from the older pony.

Octavia shook her head slowly as she looked at the apartment building once again. Though her memories were not perfect, it could very well have been the same building she passed when she was a child.

“You don’t know anything,” she murmured quietly, “you never understood anything…”

She suddenly stamped her hoof on the ground in anger. How could she possibly have seen this building as ugly? How could she not see the beauty in a patchwork quilt of stories such as this? How dare she ever look down on those less fortunate financially! How DARE she ever have bossed around her cousin, how dare she made her feel unloved!

Filled with a wave of anger, Octavia flung herself against the side of the apartment building, as if to somehow punish her younger self. She wasn’t actually aiming to harm herself— only to take out her rage somehow— but the scratchy walls of the building made her wince in pain.

“How dare you,” she muttered to herself, slightly louder than before. “How dare you not realize what was going on, how dare you think this is your dream.” Somewhat calmed down, and also starting to tremor from the cold, she started walking back, reprimanding herself the whole way. 

“How dare you be such a fool… how dare you cause so much trouble for nothing…”

She stood outside the side door of her destination, where she had exited from. For no apparent reason other than a strong sense that she needed to, she did not allow herself to step inside, away from the cold, until she came up with one more thing to scold herself for, so that this would never happen again. It didn’t take her long to come up with one.

“How dare you try to ruin such a perfectly good patchwork quilt,” she berated herself.

And then she stepped inside.