The clock-maker and the cellist

"Octavia!" A sharp voice and an unhappy noise from my cello awoke me from my ornate daydream.

"Wuh-" I started, silenced by Beauty Brass raising a hoof.

"She's been doing this allllll week," she hissed disdainfully, narrowing her eyes and glancing over to Harpo. "I say we postpone practice until she can get her think-pan straight."

"Aww, is  our wittle Octavia in wuv?" Upon this statement, my face turned a crimson not usually achieved by the common pony. After letting out a breath that I hadn't known I was holding, I lowered my bow and nodded the slightest bit.

"Practice adjourned. We meet back in two days." Fredric Horseshoepin pressed a low key impatiently, finishing our rehearsals.

"Get your head in the game, treble-butt," chided Beauty Brass, flicking my cutie mark with the tip of her tail as she walked off with the gleaming tuba wrapped around her waist. She frequently did this, and boy, was it effective!

After a silent reprimand from, well, myself, I was trotting through the snow disheveled streets of Canterlot. With the blinding snow, I could barely see my hoof infront of my face.

"Miss Octav-" a male voice shouted, the rest of my name drowned out by a blast of frigid air. With a confused glance, I began to trot more quickly.

"Octavia!!" As I got closer to the voice, a stallion's silhouetted figure stood against a blanket of white. A burst of unbridled energy caused me to shoot forward, nearly bumping into a lean, chestnut pony.

"Follow me!" the stallion dashed off, leaving only a trail of large hoof prints. The blizzard died down a bit and a slight breeze twirled through the air. I could have sworn that the snowflakes were telling me to follow his quick gait.

Wow.

How incredibly cliche.

Leave it to the love-sick cellist to make a gooey romantic statement while chasing some british stallion in the snow.

As I caught up with him, I could see he had a small bundle cradled in the crook of his fore-hoof.

"Time Turner," he breathed, presumably tired out from our wild goose chase. "Ponyville clockmaker and brother to Doctor Whooves." He held out his other fore-hoof and flashed me a wide smile.

"Charmed." I returned his gesture and raised an eyebrow. "Octavia Philharmonica, Equestria renowned cellist. Surely you've heard of me?"

"Oh, definitely! There's not a pony in Trottingham and Canterlot alike who hasn't heard of you!" He laughed quietly and hoofed me the bundle he was carrying.

No, Octavia.

That is not a baby and he is not going to drop to one knee and propose to you.

DARN IT OCTAVIA!!

You're letting your love sickness, if that's what we'll call it, over come common sense!!

"Metronome, hoof crafted." With a small grin, I tightened my scarf and held the bundle tighter. "Lovely speaking to you, but I have to run. Gotta make sure Whooves' companion didn't rip another hole in the space-time continuum."

Did he just-

Too late.

Celestia, can everypony BUT me in Canterlot run that fast?

With a loud sigh, I stuffed the metronome in my saddlebag and trotted of to me and...

Vinyl's apartment.