Fine Tuning

by Tayman

Rating: everyone
Tags: Lyra, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Octavia, Slice of Life
Length: 6243

Octavia has been tuning her cello for way too long, and Lyra is getting sick of it.

Octavia has been tuning her cello for way too long, and Lyra is getting sick of it.

Published 2012-07-04 15:34:02 UTC
Last updated 2012-07-04 15:34:02 UTC

Fine Tuning

The incessant, reverberant sound of a low “A” note pounded relentlessly in Lyra’s ears as she sat on her bed with her head buried in a music theory book. With a heavy frown on her face, she scribbled down a few notes on deceptive cadences and returned to her reading. She had an important test in just a couple days, and if she didn’t do well, her grade might slip dangerously close to “B” territory, and she definitely couldn’t have that.

Perhaps if the sound had been constant, like the buzzing of a fan, Lyra would have been able to tune it out and focus on her studies. Attending the Canterlot University of Music was no cake walk, after all. She would have preferred it if there was just a bit more focus on playing music, rather than mainly studying it. Her passion lay in performing music, not composing it.

As Lyra continued scribbling down notes, the tortuous note faded. Silence blessed the room once more. Lyra closed her eyes and held her breath. Please. Dear Celestia, please let it be over.

Deep down, she knew she shouldn’t get her hopes up. It wasn’t the first time the sound had ceased, yet every time her dream of a peaceful dorm room went unfulfilled. However, she couldn’t help but cling to the hope once it was presented again, like a rabbit hopping up for a carrot.

One second.

Two seconds.

The only sounds were the distant, muffled notes from instruments in other dorm rooms, far enough away for her to effectively tune out.

Three seconds. Four seconds.

Five seconds...

Lyra’s spark of hope flared just a bit brighter. The period of silence was the longest it had been that afternoon.

Was it finally over? Had her prayers finally been answered?

She let out a sigh of relief. Now she could get some studying done while Octavia played some real music.Hopefully it would be something slow and relaxing, from the second classical era, perhaps. Ooh, I think she mentioned that she’s going to practice Silver String’s fourth legata suite, which should be—

The clear note of the instrument resumed, shattering Lyra’s treasured silence. Her eyes snapped open and she gritted her teeth, her left eye twitching as she fought the urge to scream. With a surge of magical frustration, she slammed her quill down on the bedspread and levitated her lyre in front of her. She gave the instrument an abrupt and dissonant strum, hoping that the out-of-tune note would get the fussy musician’s attention. “Octavia!”

Octavia stood several feet away next to her own bed with her eyes closed, cello in her grasp. She was transfixed on the instrument as she slowly pulled a bow over the A string. Her teeth grasped the peg as she tuned, the adjustments so minute that Lyra doubted it was actually being turned at all. Even with years of musical study and experience training her ear, she was unable to detect any change in pitch.

The droning note continued, despite Lyra’s brief outburst. She sighed, cursing Octavia’s uncanny ability to focus on her beloved cello. Still, there’s a difference between concentrating in a concert hall packed with ponies, and using that much focus to tune a cello on a Sunday afternoon.

Lyra hopped down from her bed, still levitating her lyre and eyeing Octavia. Her eyes remained closed as she took her teeth off the tuning peg, continuing to produce the stubborn sound with her glass bow.

The sight of the cello gave Lyra pause. She bit her tongue, holding back another scolding. The instrument was the most gorgeous she had ever seen, with a sleek, ruby-brown finish. She could have sworn the strings were made from pure silver. Out of curiosity, she had once asked how much the whole package cost: cello, case, strings, and bow. Octavia had simply laughed and replied that Lyra couldn’t possibly fathom how many bits everything was worth.

A simple number would have been fine. She didn’t have to be so snooty about it.

This is ridiculous. Lyra slammed a hoof down. The floor shook, and the music stand set up in front the cello wobbled. “Octavia!”

Octavia’s eyes snapped open, the bow lurching across the strings. “Lyra! I don’t believe I ever disturb you while you are practicing that...” Octavia glanced at the lyre levitating in front of her roommate. “Ugh... thing.”

Lyra rolled her eyes. “There’s a difference between practicing and tuning. And you’ve been tuning your cello for... half an hour now? I’ve honestly lost track. And you’re still on the first string.”

“I will stop tuning when the note is in tune,” Octavia said flatly, before resuming the note.

Another dissonant strum rang out, and Octavia’s head jerked up, boring a glare into Lyra.

“Octavia, please,” Lyra said, sighing. “I’m trying to study.”

“You are always free to go to the library.”

“Well...” Lyra bit her lip. “I was hoping you’d start practicing for real. I mean, the piece you’re preparing is really relaxing. What isn’t relaxing is hearing the same note on and off for the past thirty minutes. In fact, it’s downright annoying.”

Octavia gasped and tilted the cello away from Lyra, like a mother cradling a foal. “You will not insult my playing!”

“Tuning isn’t playing!”

“Fine then!” Octavia said with a snort. “Would you prefer that I practice out of tune? Would you find that relaxing?”

“Octavia. I have just as good of an ear as you,” Lyra said, hopping back on her bed. “I got an ‘A’ in aural skills IV.”

“Very respectable. However, this is my cello, and I will decide if it is in tune, thank you very much.”

Lyra’s mouth was set in a hard line as she mustered every ounce of her willpower to not punch a hole in the wall. “The note. Is. Fine. This is ridiculous, even for you! You’ve never spent this much time tuning before!”

“Well, before I wasn’t auditioning for the Canterlot Symphony!” Octavia huffed. “I need to make sure I’m completely in tune so my hoof positions stay consistent while I’m practicing. If the tuning isn’t the exact same when I play, then my hoof positions would have to shift around to make sure every note is correct. Then again, I wouldn’t expect a harp player like you to know that.”

“It’s a lyre.”

“So it’s a mini-harp. Similar enough.”

And that’s just an over-sized violin. Lyra continued to grit her teeth. I swear, if I have to go to the dentist, it’s coming out of your pocket.“That isn’t the point. The point is, you’ve been tuning your cello for way too long. You should know better than anypony else that no note is ever perfectly in tune.”

“Well, I can certainly try,” Octavia said with a dismissive wave of her hoof. She resumed tuning the string.

Lyra let her continue only because she was afraid she would bust the lyre strings if she strummed it as hard as she wanted to at that moment. Instead, she levitated the instrument back to the shelf before rolling over to bury her head under the pillow. The note became a muffled drone, but no less annoying than before.

Okay. I’m fighting a losing battle here. Maybe I should just go to the library. It’d be quieter there, at least.

But what if she came back in a few hours, and Octavia was still tuning? Could Octavia really be that stubborn? She certainly had the patience and dedication to tune for that long, at least while the audition was a few weeks away.

The horrific scenario flashed through Lyra’s mind. Octavia standing in the exact same position for the next week, still tuning the first note.

What if she never stops? What if I’m forced to live with her tuning her cello... forever?

Okay, not forever, obviously. But if she doesn’t get the note perfect—and she won’t—it’s going to be like living in Tartarus.

Octavia was fussy enough as it was. Lyra grimaced as she recalled her roommate yelling at her to take out the trash when it was only half full, or occasionally telling her that her lyre was whiny and out of tune. Lyra had learned that it was best to just keep to herself and minimize the risk of conflict.

And how much worse would it get as the audition day got closer and Octavia still hadn’t practiced? Would she finally accept the fact that she would have to play with merely close to perfect tuning? Or would she go insane, the way prodigious musicians are apt to go in the pursuit of absolute perfection? How much more tortuous could things get? Would she snap at Lyra for the nitpickiest things, like not stacking her sheet music perfectly or not dusting her desk every day?

The eternal note continued to buzz in Lyra’s ears as she remained in relative darkness under her pillow, contemplating the sheer horror of living with Octavia up until the day of her audition.

Lyra pulled her head out from under the pillow and rolled over, staring at the ceiling. Octavia’s tuning wailed louder without the muffling device protecting her ears.

If she couldn’t get her to stop turning, she might be able to convince her to go to a practice room, but it would require breaking her out of her trance and risking another thrashing. Plus she’d probably complain that moving her cello would cause it to go out of tune, even though Lyra knew she could get it back in perfect tune in two seconds. Even then, Octavia would probably come back in a foul mood.

Lyra glanced at Octavia. Her eyes were still closed as she drew her glass bow across the strings, teeth still on the tuning peg. Lyra still couldn’t tell if she was even turning the peg or not. The note remained constant, even to her perfectly trained ear.She sat up in bed, putting a hoof to her chin and staring at the wall for several long moments.

Hmm, I wonder if could...

She shook her head. No, she’d flip on me.

The note continued to drone on, and Lyra could have sworn a hammer was being pounded into her ears. She let out a hopeless sigh. “Hey, listen, Octavia...” she said, biting her lip and turning her head towards her roommate, who continued to tune in a trance. “You’re really great at tuning and all, but is there any way I could try to help? I’ve been working on this spell that could get the pitch right within—”

Octavia’s eyes shot open. Her teeth twitched on the tuning peg, and the note wailed as it slipped out of tune. She whipped her head towards Lyra and shot her a glare of pure ice. “How dare you even suggest that I tune my instrument using artificial means!” Lyra cowered back in her bed as Octavia held the gaze, before taking several deep breaths and closing her eyes once more.

Lyra exhaled as Octavia slipped back into her trance. She pulled her bow across the now dissonant A string, and with a few twists of her teeth, the note was perfectly in tune.

Oh sweet Celestia. It’s been—She glanced at the clock—forty-five minutes now?

Her left eye spasmed. Forty-five minutes of a single, solitary note. No practicing. No real music that she could attempt to enjoy.

Then again, perhaps it was just some contemporary piece, and Lyra just wasn’t hip enough to get it. She chuckled at the thought. Anything to take her mind off the monotony.

Lyra levitated her theory book, quill, and parchment in front of her and attempted to concentrate on her studies once again. She flipped through the pages, focusing on every word with a concentration better reserved for surgeons.

“A deceptive cadence is when the chord progression appears to be resolving, but ends up landing on the six chord.”

She stared at the sentence, blinking several times as she attempted to commit the definition to memory. She looked up, attempteding to recite the information back to herself... and drew a complete blank.

Lyra groaned. It as was if Octavia’s tuning was a vacuum, sucking up all the information that should have gone into her memory.

Okay, honestly. This has to stop. I am not dealing with this for the next two weeks. With her magic, she slammed the book shut and hurled it across the room. It struck the wall above Octavia’s bed with a loud whump and bounced onto the mattress. Lyra held her breath as she stared at Octavia.

Her eyes remained closed. She hadn’t so much as flinched.

“Hey, stop throwing stuff! I’m trying to study in here!” a gruff male voice sounded from the next room over. Lyra rolled her eyes. Well, you certainly haven’t complained about Miss Perfect Tuning droning on over here.

With a huff, hopped off her bed. She stomped out the door, slamming it behind her. The “A” note continued to ring in her ears as she marched down the empty dormitory hall. Most of the other students were locked in their rooms, practicing their instruments for auditions or studying for finals.

I swear to Celestia, I will get you to stop tuning that bucking cello, or I will die trying.

------------------------

It was a short walk from the dormitory building to the facility that housed the strings department. Lyra basked in the golden rays of the sun, the comforting heat mitigating her frustration somewhat. The campus was just as barren as the dorm hallway, and a serene stillness hung in the air. The lack of ponies trotting about reminded Lyra of what she really should have been doing.

Honestly, just go to the library. Don’t worry about Octavia and her cello of doom. You have a lot of catching up to do.

She shook her head, recalling that she had to solve this problem now. Going to the library would only be a temporary relief; when she returned, she would still have endure that cursed note.

Lyra walked into the building and went down the stairs. She let out a relaxed sigh as the gentle flittering of strings reached her ears. While she wasn’t able to focus on any particular tune, the blending of the melodies created a calming atmosphere.

As she approached her destination at the end of the hallway, she swallowed hard. She felt like a filly going to the teacher to tattle on a colt that had shoved her down on the playground.

A few steps later, Lyra was standing in front of a towering oak door. A class schedule and notes on string ensemble meetings were posted on it, along with a nameplate: “Professor Golden Staff.” A light shone through the window, and she could hear the dull scratching of a quill inside. She was thankful that he was in his office; she had thought it unlikely he’d be in on a Sunday. Lyra took a deep breath and knocked on the door.

The quill scratching paused for a moment. “Come in.”

Lyra opened the door and stepped into the office. Golden Staff was hunched over his desk, scribbling down corrections on what appeared to be homework papers. A towering bookshelf stuffed with tomes of sheet music stood in the back corner, and numerous framed awards hung from the wall. The professor finished marking one of the sheets and set it aside before standing up to face Lyra. His shimmering coat matched his name, with a streak of ice-blue mane cutting through his fur. An image of a bass clef was emblazoned on his flank.

“Ah, you must be... Miss Heartstrings, if I’m correct? From my theory class?”

Lyra nodded as she tried to conceal a gulp. “Yes, that’s right. I was hoping you could help me with an... issue I’m having.”

“I see. Well, what do you need help with? Are you having issues studying cadences for the test next week?” Golden Staff peered down at Lyra with a stoic expression as she rocked about on her hooves.

“Um, well... it’s... a bit of a petty issue,” Lyra said, her eyes darting to the ground as she let out a nervous chuckle.

“Well, what is it? Don’t beat around the bush, I have papers to correct.”

Lyra tried not to frown. Would it kill him not to be a bit more friendly?She let her gaze drift around the room for several moments before answering. “Well, you know Octavia, right?”

Golden’s eyes lit up, and his voice took on a cheery inflection. “Of course! She’s in my string ensemble class, and she will be auditioning for the Canterlot Symphony in a few weeks!” A wide beam cut across his face. “Why, if she makes it, she’ll be the youngest pony there!”

Yeah, don’t remind me. She’s only mentioned that a billion times.

“Well, that’s the thing, sir. She hasn’t been practicing at all.” Her lips twitched as she fought to prevent a scowl from spreading across her face. “She seems to be stuck on tuning.”

“Octavia? Stuck on tuning?” Golden raised an eyebrow. “I don’t quite believe that. I’ve seen her tune in under a minute.”

Lyra took a slow, controlled breath, resisting the urge to exhale in an exasperated sigh. She had forgotten that Octavia was also a bit of a teacher’s pet. “Well, yes, she usually tunes very fast, but she seems to think the note has to be absolutely perfect before she can practice for this audition. With all due respect to her, I also have a perfect ear, and her tuning is as close to perfect as it’s going to get. We both know there’s no such thing as a flawless note.”

Golden’s features hardened, and he let out a heavy sigh. “So you want me to drop what I’m doing and go help my star pupil, a near musical prodigy, mind you, tune her cello?”

Lyra turned scarlet, and she stared at the ground away from Golden’s imposing gaze. “Um, well, you see...”

When he put it that way, it did sound pretty silly.

Golden scowled. “Miss Heartstrings, my time is very valuable, especially with finals approaching. You may notice that I am spending my Sunday afternoon in my office correcting papers rather than relaxing. Now, if you had an actual problem, I’d be happy to assist you. But if you intend to waste my time with such a petty issue, I’m afraid I’ll have to ask you to be on your way.”

Lyra cowered back even further from the stony glare; she felt as if she had just offended Celestia herself. “I-I’m so sorry, professor.” With her head hung, she turned towards the door.

Come on, Lyra, think! How else are you going to fix this problem? Her cello teacher is probably the only pony she’ll listen to!

She took slow steps towards the door, stretching out the precious seconds to give her more time to think of something that could bring Golden Staff over to her side.

She gasped, and a victorious grin spread across her face as the perfect idea struck her. She whipped around right as she was about to step through the exit. “Professor, wait!” Lyra didn’t give him a chance to respond. “You said Octavia’s in your string ensemble class? How would you feel if she refused to start playing until every instrument’s tuning was up to her above-perfect standards?”

Lyra held her breath, her grin fading as she awaited Golden’s response. His scowl had disappeared upon hearing her argument, and he stared straight ahead.

“Now that you mention it, that has happened several times before,” he said, chuckling. Lyra silently exhaled as a smile returned to his face. “With my other ensemble classes, it only takes us a few minutes to tune. With her, sometimes it would take fifteen minutes before I finally had to put my hoof down. Not that she was happy with me cutting her off, of course.”

“Exactly!” Lyra nodded, grinning as she imagined Octavia bossing around the other members of her ensemble, who probably all had perfect ears as well. “Now, imagine if she was like that constantly, and you had to live with her.”

“I imagine that would be quite frustrating,” Golden Staff said with a nod. “How long, might I ask, has she been tuning for?”

Lyra looked up at the clock, her jaw dropping as she saw the time. “Well, if she’s still tuning now, then it’s been over an hour. When I left, she didn’t show any signs of stopping.”

“I assume you tried reasoning with her?”

“I did, but she can be very stubborn,” Lyra said with a sigh. “Honestly, I’m really sorry, professor, but I’m afraid you’re the only pony she would listen to. I really don’t want to have to deal with her tuning for hours on end.”

Golden turned back towards his desk, levitating a quill and making several marks on one of the papers. “Well, I certainly do understand your problem, but I find it doubtful that Octavia would actually tune for such a long period of time.”

“It’s been over an hour, professor.”

He continued to mark the papers, still faced away from Lyra as he remained silent.

No! I’m losing him again!

Lyra took a step forward and put on her best pleading expression. “Please, professor. It would only take a few minutes, and I promise, I won’t bother you for the rest of the semester.”

The silence stretched on, disturbed only by the scratching of the quill and the muffled notes reaching her ears from the practice rooms. For what seemed like the hundredth time that afternoon, she held her breath, heart spasming in her chest. What if he said no? Then she would either have to be forceful with Octavia, which certainly wouldn’t be an enjoyable experience. Or, she would have to complain to one of the dorm heads, which could definitely be considering tattling. Both of the options seemed infinitely worse than having Golden Staff speak with her.

Golden Staff let out a long sigh, and Lyra braced herself for another scolding.

“Very well, Miss Heartstrings. I suppose I can spare a portion of my afternoon assisting you.” Golden faced Lyra once more, and a hint of a smile pierced through his stony complexion. “I suppose this would be a more interesting way to spend a Sunday than correcting papers.”

Lyra gasped, beaming. “Oh, thank you so much. I’ll try not to waste too much of your time. Honestly, I wouldn’t have come to you if I weren’t desperate.”

Golden set his quill down, and his smile widened. “Do not worry about it. Octavia could certainly use a lesson about stubbornness.”

While Lyra was grateful for the help she was receiving, it was definitely odd to be walking with one of the most renowned cello teachers in all of Equestria. Her gaze was glued to the ground, an awkward silence lingering as she made her way towards the dorms with a pony she hardly knew. Her theory class was too big to allow for much interaction with the teacher, and since Lyra didn’t play in the orchestra, Golden Staff was practically a complete stranger to her. Yet here she was, asking him to help tune Octavia’s cello, the first lesson every musician learned.

Lyra shook her head. She wasn’t asking for help getting Octavia’s cello in tune, she was asking for help so she would stop tuning.

As the two stepped into the dorm building and gentle melodies wafted into her ears once more, she felt her inhibitions melt away. She let out a relaxed sigh as she imagined herself sprawled out on her comfy bed, studying in either complete silence or with elegant notes flittering from Octavia’s cello. She would score well on her finals, and Octavia would pass her audition. The final weeks of the semester would pass by in total peace. The two of them would be happy, no arguing, no complaining...

Okay, Lyra, lets not get ahead of ourselves, here.

The graceful dance of notes continued to grace her ears. As they approached the end of the hallway where Lyra’s dorm room stood, she found herself silently begging that the music would continue, that she wouldn’t hear that dreaded demon of a note from beyond her door. Her heart poounded in her ears, each beat a titanic crescendo that made her feel like she was being escorted to her doom.

Please, oh please, oh please, oh please...

Twenty steps away. Still no note.

Please...

Seventeen steps. All she heard was actual practicing from the other rooms.

Twelve steps. Still no dreaded “A” note. Lyra’s legs felt like heavy slabs of lead. She gulped and glanced up at Golden Staff, who was humming a tune to himself. “Something wrong, Miss Heartstrings? You seem to be sweating a bit.”

“Oh!” She snapped her gaze forward. “No, nothing, really. Just... nervous thinking about finals, I guess.” Was she really sweating?

“Ah,” he said with a chuckle. “Well, finals are still several weeks away. I don’t think you need to fret just yet.”

Lyra nodded, straining out a smile. Only ten steps remained, and still no tortuous tuning reached her ears. She let out a sigh of relief; perhaps she wouldn’t need Golden Staff afterall.

Maybe she was overreacting a bit. Did she honestly think that Octavia would be tuning constantly for two weeks? After all, it was an important audition.

She took one more step, and the faint droning of Octavia’s “A” note of death just barely reached her, cutting through the rest of the music.

“Arrrggghhh!” A guttural scream erupted from Lyra as she drove a hoof into the tile floor, sending a jolt of pain up her leg. “I don’t understand! How can one pony tune one bucking note for so bucking long? Honestly, that pony needs to...” Lyra trailed off as the music in the immediate area ceased. Her cheeks flared from within as she spotted several students sticking their heads out of their rooms, giving her both icy glares and looks of befuddlement. “Oh, um... hehe.”

“Miss Heartstrings! What was the purpose of that outburst?” Golden Staff turned to scowl down at Lyra, who cowered back against the wall. Her eyes were glued to the floor as she trembled.

“I-I’m so sorry...” Lyra stammered. “It’s just—I mean...” She fell silent, realizing it would just be best to not try to justify her eruption. In her embarrassment, her ears failed to capture the total silence that had fallen from behind her dorm door.

Golden Staff sighed and shook his head. He opened his mouth to speak again—and his jaw dropped. The most beautiful music she had ever heard drifted to Lyra’s ears, and complete silence fell over the rest of the dorm floor as the song swelled in the halls.

Still pressed against the wall, Lyra turned her head to face the source of the music so she could dedicate her full attention to it. She did not take a single step out of her position, out of fear that any sound whatsoever, no matter how soft, would shatter the spell that had been cast over her. She became aware of her very breathing and tried to make each inhale and exhale inaudible. Any other sound that reached her ears would be an absolute disgrace compared to the pure beauty that danced off the cello’s strings.

The song continued, and mist formed around Lyra’s eyes as she struggled not to sniffle. The music was played with such grace that its beauty had taken on a palpable form. A glorious blend of sorrow and joy rang out with every crescendo and diminuendo, rising and falling, each peak causing a tear to roll down her cheek.

She couldn’t speak, nor could she even think. Every function of her brain not dedicated to emotion was brushed aside as she slipped into a trance, brought about by a song that seemed to be crafted and performed by the very heavens.

Lyra wasn’t even aware of how much time had passed when the final note rang out, lingering for several moments before dissolving into silence. Nopony spoke, or even applauded. Her jaw remained slacked open, the breath stolen from her lungs. She raised a hoof to wipe away the tears that had only just ceased streaming down her face.

A sniffle came from beside Lyra, and she turned her head to see Golden Staff also drying his eyes. “My goodness... that was... absolutely masterful...” he murmured.

Lyra managed to pull herself away from the wall and turn towards her room. Her ears stood on end, swiveled towards the door in hopes of capturing any other golden note that came from beyond the door.

“Well, it seems like Octavia finally found a tuning that fit her standards,” Golden Staff said with a smile of pure bliss. “And just in time. Miss Heartstrings, I must thank you for pulling me out of my office and allowing me the honor of witnessing the most beautiful performance of Silver Strings that I have ever heard.”

Lyra wiped another tear away and managed to smile up at the Golden. “Well, I’m glad everything turned out all right, then. I was worried that I would end up wasting your time.”

“Not at all!” Golden Staff beamed. “That was quite a treat. You are very lucky to be rooming with such a talented cellist, even if she can be a bit fussy at times.”

Her smile widened, and she turned her head towards her dorm room, the door still closed. A relaxed sigh escaped her. “Well, yes... I hate to admit it, but it’s times like these that make it all worth it.”

“Some of the greatest musicians of our time are incredibly arrogant and abrasive, Miss Heartstrings. I met several of them myself,” Golden said with a wistful twinkle in his eye. “They were the most infuriating ponies I had ever encountered. Yet when they got on stage and channeled their fussiness into their playing, magic happened. These ponies that made me scream and stamp my hooves also made me weep like a filly. That was the only reason I tolerated their behavior.”

Lyra remained silent. She wouldn’t quite call Octavia arrogant and abrasive, but she was certainly up there.

There had been times when Lyra had stomped out of the room with every intention of filling out a room transfer request form. Then, her mind would drift towards the notes of pure silver that Octavia’s cello produced. She had never made it halfway done the hallway.

She chuckled. “That is very true, professor. Thank you, I will keep that in mind.”

Golden Staff gave Lyra a respectful nod. “In the meantime, I still have several papers to correct. Have a good afternoon.” He turned and walked down the hallway towards the exit.

Lyra took a deep breath and took slow steps towards the still-silent dorm room. “Well, time to face the music...” she mumbled, expecting a thrashing after the way she had yelled at her before.

Why was Octavia so quiet? Had she slipped back into one of her trances?

Then again, it wasn’t like she needed to practice, not after a performance like that. The song sprung to mind once more, and her eyes fluttered in barrage of blinks. She barely managed to not tear up again.

When she approached the room, she paused, placing an ear against the door. Not a single sound reached her.

Deeming it safe to enter, Lyra cracked the door open and slowly stepped inside, as if she were sneaking past her parents’ bedroom in the middle of the night. Her face warmed with a smile as she spotted Octavia.

The cellist stood with her eyes closed, her bow still on the strings. Her complexion bore a look of serene grace and stillness, as if she were still playing the majestic piece in her head. At that moment, Lyra saw not a fussy roommate, but an artist with a passion and talent she could not even begin to comprehend.

And this is how she looks just practicing?

Lyra shook her head. It wasn’t the first time she had seen Octavia in this state before. Yet in her frustration that day, she had completely forgotten just how elegant the mare could appear when lost in her music.

Once again, Lyra stood frozen, not daring to make any sound that would disturb Octavia’s concentration, even though her music had long since ceased.

A minute later, Octavia let her bow drop from the strings, and she finally opened her eyes. “Lyra!” She flinched and took a step back, still cradling her cello. “You mustn’t startle me like that!”

Lyra simply smiled. Octavia’s words lacked the bite they had possessed earlier that afternoon. Perhaps she just needed

“Hehe, sorry, Octavia,” Lyra said, her horn glowing as she shut the door behind her. “I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. It’s just, your song... it was really good.”

Octavia gave a dismissive wave of her hoof. “Oh, don’t allow yourself to get too worked up over it. It was just my first practice session. I’m afraid I didn’t have as much time to play as I would have liked after taking so long to get my tuning perfect. I do say I’m satisfied with my first go, however.” Lyra caught the smallest grin tugging at Octavia’s lips.

“Seriously?” Lyra returned the grin. “But it was absolutely perfect. I... I actually cried,” she admitted with a sniffle.

Octavia’s smile widened. “Perhaps you are being overly sentimental. But then again... I am glad you enjoyed it.” Octavia lowered her gaze and bit her lip. “I... I believe I do owe you an apology with how I acted earlier. I believe I let my frustration over tuning get the best of me. You did not deserve such harsh words.”

Woah, she’s actually apologizing? Somepony pinch me.

“Well, you were tuning for a really long time,” Lyra snickered. “But I guess it was all worth it.”

“Yes, indeed it was. And next time, I would appreciate it if you didn’t question my talented ear.” Octavia’s smile vanished, replaced by a cold glare.

Lyra rolled her eyes. That didn’t last long.

“Yeah. Sorry,” she muttered.

Octavia remained silent as she set her cello down as if the instrument were composed of eggshells and would crack with the slightest bit of force. Lyra stared at the instrument once more, her gaze lingering on the silver strings.

Wait... if I thought the note was perfect before, and now Octavia is finally satisfied with the tuning...

“Um... Octavia?”

Octavia turned from the corner of the room, clutching her cello case. “Yes?”

“Well... could I...”

Lyra stare at the ground, a hoof pawing at the floor.

“...Could I just play a note on your cello?” Lyra gave Octavia her best puppy dog eyes. “I want to feel just how perfect it is for myself.”

Octavia gasped. Lyra imagined it was the same sort of gasp she would receive if she were to ask Celestia if she could wear her regal accessories for the day. She winced and slammed her eyes shut.

She kept her eyes closed and tried not to imagine just how dark a shade of crimson Octavia’s fur was turning. Each moment that passed without a response seemed to last for hours.

“Ugghhh. Fine.”

Was she dreaming? Octavia actually said yes?

Lyra opened her eyes, and nearly yelped as she spotted Octavia shooting her a glare normally produced by demons. “But I swear, if you make one single scuff on that cello—”

“Yes! I know! I’ll have to drop out of school and spend the rest of my life working to replace it, or something along those lines.” Lyra stepped forward towards the precious instrument. She kneeled down and placed one hoof on the hoofboard, holding it steady as she used another hoof to lift the cello from the bottom. Her slow breaths filled her lungs to capacity as she stood the instrument up on end. She released her grip on the bottom, keeping the cello steady from the top. Her horn glowed as she levitated the glass bow towards her free hoof, grasping it and placing it on the “A” string. With a deep breath, she drew the hair across the string.

A note of pure crystal rang out. Were it not for her complete concentration, the cello would have slipped from her grasp upon hearing just how shockingly clear the pitch was.

The note wasn’t perfect. It was better than perfect. In all her years of study, Lyra had never heard such clarity from any instrument.

“Holy...”

Lyra bit her lip. She glanced over at Octavia, whose mane was so drenched in sweat that Lyra feared she would have to break out the mop in a couple minutes. She returned her attention to the cello, running the bow across the string again to make sure she hadn’t misheard. The note couldn’t be that good. It was impossible.

Pure crystal again. So gorgeous that Lyra expected doves to materialize above and flutter about the room.

Lyra scowled, and let out a sigh. “Ugh... fine. You got it right. I guess I can let you tune a little longer from now on.”