Two Notes Alikeby Doom_PieChaptersChapter One: ArrivalChapter Two: In the PastChapter Three: Coming to TermsChapter One: ArrivalAs the warm sunlight burst through the window of her room, Octavia rolled around in her bed, the first signs of wakefulness creeping into her body. This is what she simply loved about days off – sleeping in, not having to worry about rehearsals, just being able to relax, with no distractions. As she blearily started to open her eyes, she truly appreciated that fact. Though, appreciation was about as far as Octavia could go with the idea of ‘no distractions’ that day, a fact she realized the moment she heard a knock on her door. The sudden loud noise startled a still-groggy Octavia into an upright position. After rubbing her eyes a few times with her hooves and regaining her bearings from the scare, she stretched and hopped onto the floor. The clock on the wall read exactly ten thirty in the morning; either the pony at her door was very punctual, very lucky, or very late. “Just one second, please,” called out Octavia, in a voice that suggested both friendliness and irritation on her part. It was the voice she used when anyone interrupted her in anything for any reason. It was almost as trademark as the bowtie she fastened around her neck. Other orchestra ponies wore their bowties during performances only, but to Octavia, the bowtie just felt natural, and without it she felt naked. She also thought that she looked silly without it. So, she made sure to put it on every morning, as part of her routine. As she turned towards the direction of the door, Octavia made a quick survey of the few rooms she had, to make sure nothing was out that she didn’t want anypony to see, such as a new, secret composition for her cello, or the occasional private journal she wrote before or after a performance. She saw only what she wanted other ponies to see, however: her cello, leaning against the wall in its case; her multiple awards on one shelf dedicated to trophies and memorabilia; her sound setup, including microphones, multiple speakers, a tuner and record player; and of course, all of the furniture she felt necessary to own. In her relatively packed living space, that wasn’t much, but just enough to allow for the occasional guest, which was about all she could manage in an apartment as small as hers. Octavia walked slowly towards the door and was almost to it when she heard her guest call out. “Hey, ‘tavia, open up, will you?” Octavia stopped. Pet names were not uncommon for the pony; it seemed that a name like hers lent itself to one. Some called her ‘Tavi,’ others ‘Octy.’ But only one pony in the whole of Equestria called her ‘tavia. Octavia reluctantly opened up the door to reveal her slightly younger sister, Viviola. “Heya there, ‘tavia. How are you doing on this fine day?” To illustrate the fact that the day was indeed a fine one, the pony gestured toward the skies above her with the hoof she wasn’t using to lean against Octavia’s doorframe. The sun shone off of Viviola’s purple-streaked mane, giving it a somewhat luminescent quality, almost accentuating her creamy yellow coat. She chose not to wear her purple bowtie, as she generally didn’t wear it outside of performances and never wore it around her sister. Octavia groaned as her yellow-coated sibling went back to a normal standing position. “Vivi, what is it that you want?” She put on her very best annoyed face. “I’m very busy.” “Oh, my,” responded Viviola playfully, “you must have been so preoccupied sleeping at ten in the morning, sis!” Viviola’s eyes possessed a quality both mocking and somewhat condescending in that moment. That always managed to bring out the worst in Octavia. “Now hold on, Viviola,” said Octavia through gritted teeth, “I’ll have you know that I get very few days off, and I work hard enough that I deserve to spend them however I want. I wouldn’t expect you to know much about working hard, though.” Viviola gasped, mockingly acting offended. “Why, I never, big sis! To think you’d be so riled up at a simple playful gesture! I’m delighted to see that you haven’t changed a bit, not since leaving Canterlot for… this place.” Octavia groaned again, wondering once more why her sister intended to make her life hard. Viviola was born about a year and a half after Octavia, and Octavia had heard that the younger sibling in relationships between two sisters tended to be more… expressive. Viviola was much like Octavia, but a few key aspects of her personality set the two apart: If you asked Viviola, she’d tell you that she was less stuffy than her posh older sister. She knew how to have fun and not worry about things all the time. In her eyes, her sister was just too stuck up. Octavia, on the other hoof, felt that Viviola couldn’t take anything seriously. When they both chose their instruments at a young age, Octavia practiced her cello night and day, taking good care to keep it clean, tuned, and ready to go at a moment’s notice; Viviola, however, would casually toss her violin on to her bed and do whatever it was that occupied her at the time. Granted, Viviola was still a talented violinist; it’s just that she lacked the focus to become great, like Octavia considered herself to be. Viviola casually trotted into Octavia’s apartment, leaving Octavia to close the door behind her. “So, sis, what’ve you been up to since the Gala?” Octavia detected a hint of bitterness in Viviola’s voice. They had both auditioned to attend the Gala, and Viviola was still a little… disappointed that Octavia got a part and she didn’t. That’s what you get for not focusing, Octavia had said. Just another bit of malice between the two of them. Octavia stood glaring at Viviola – half out of distrust, half out of genuine curiosity – when she responded, “Working. My career didn’t stop after the Gala, believe it or not. And what have you been up to? Same as always?” It would not be untrue to say that Octavia asked this simply to throw her own success in her sister’s face again. Viviola had been expecting this, however, as it was how every conversation of theirs – no matter how few and far between they were – began, in some form or another. “Yes, sis, same as always. Not letting how successful others think I should be weigh me down and destroy my ability to enjoy life.” The mare paused, and feigned thoughtfulness for effect. “Though, I wouldn’t suspect that you would know anything about that, eh, sis?” “I can’t imagine how amazing it would be to be able to sleep in every day, I must admit. Free from important engagements and work, only occasionally being expected to show potential. That must be thrilling.” Viviola showed her first signs of being truly upset, her face drooping into an honestly offended frown. “Now, sister, I didn’t come here to play verbal fencing with you. I do have a reason, and it would be fair to say that my particular jabbing at you has been a means of stalling this point.” “And I fear that you stall further, dear sister,” responded Octavia calmly. “What is it that brought you here all the way from Canterlot?” Viviola sighed quite audibly. “I need to ask of you a favor. First, let me explain. “Believe it or not, I still love quite dearly to play music. I know that I can be a little bit… distractible, at times, but I still take whatever opportunities I can to play for ponies. Though this is true, I found that being rejected from the Gala has left me…” she looked around, as if expecting to find whatever words she was looking for on the ceiling. “…feeling a tad unlike myself in that respect. “Naturally, my opportunities at playing are at an all-time low. People don’t want an earth pony violinist they had scarcely heard of playing in their respectable orchestras. “But despite all that, my luck seems to have taken a small upswing. I was recently invited to play in an orchestra soon.” “My congratulations,” said Octavia. She wasn’t even being sarcastic – now that they had gotten the obligatory verbal sparring out of the way, she had the capacity to be happy for her younger sister. “No matter what I may say to you, sister, I always wish you success. I am happy to see that you are back on the right track. What orchestra? Is this for a concert, or for an event?” “An… event,” said the yellow pony tentatively. Octavia could tell that there was a part of the story that Viviola didn’t want to explain, most likely out of embarrassment. Octavia took it upon herself to coax it out of her. “Ah. What event would that be?” “It’s… a local celebration. Here, in Ponyville.” A pause in the conversation occurred as Octavia considered to what event her sister was referring. There was only one she could think of that could be even remotely considered to require live music. “The Nightmare Night celebration?” Viviola nodded embarrassedly. She was never the type to be ashamed of who she was and what she did… except, of course, in front of her big sister. Expecting disapproving eyes, Viviola looked up at Octavia slowly, and was instead greeted with a warm smile and a comforting look. “I’m proud of you, Viviola. You haven’t done a public performance in a long time. This will be good for you. And Nightmare Night is just as an important tradition around here as Winter Wrap-Up. You never know – somepony may notice you. Where are you staying, though? I know you detest travel, so I wouldn’t expect you to come here and go back to Canterlot over and over.” Viviola produced another sheepish look. “That’s actually why I came to you, ‘tavia. I need a place to stay for the remainder. But I am finding myself lacking in bits… if it wouldn’t be too much trouble…” Octavia was genuinely surprised. For Viviola to talk so much about her career to her, and then to ask for a favor such as this? That was most unlike the younger sister she knew. But despite willfully residing in Ponyville, she considered herself to be an upper-class pony, and upper-class ponies knew the meaning of familial obligations. “If you can handle sleeping on the couch,” she said back to her younger sister, “you may stay as long as you like.” “Oh, thank you, sister!” Viviola expressed excitedly. Before Octavia could stop her, Viviola wrapped her forehooves around her older sister’s neck in a tight, warm hug. Octavia loved her sister, but couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit anxious at the situation in which she had just agreed to be put. Chapter Two: In the PastAs the days grew shorter and colder, Viviola began preparing for her part in the Nightmare Night orchestra. It was a relatively small act; she had been told that she would be on stage for any time between half an hour and an hour, playing the same two songs over and over for the entertainment of passersby. (This was specifically why Octavia turned down the position. That, and her already busy schedule.) Even so, she took it very seriously, and practiced as often as she possibly could. As they were eating dinner one night, Viviola asked a question, spoken quickly and intensely before the young mare could stop herself. “Why did you leave?” Octavia’s spoon, filled to the brim with soup, wedged in the cleft of her hoof, stopped its upward journey towards her mouth. Octavia looked down at the table involuntarily. She knew exactly what Viviola was talking about, just as well as Viviola knew it was a sore subject with Octavia. The memories came crushing back to the mare, flooding her conscious almost immediately. Octavia’s leaving Canterlot for Ponyville was no simple matter. She was still young, but was already becoming a well-known cellist. She had just been enrolled by her parents in a school for young talented musicians when she made the announcement one night that she was going to leave that all behind and move to Ponyville, to start her own life. Naturally, this caused a shock for her family. Especially Viviola – the two were never close, per se, but Viviola still had to deal with the sudden jarring announcement that she wouldn’t see her sister except for the occasional visit and performance attendance. Their father was worried for Octavia’s safety, and for her success, as she was still young (“Hardly eighteen years old – you’re still practically a filly!”), but their mother, living in Canterlot her whole life and being raised in the typical mindset, was worried more about Octavia’s reputation. “Of all the places to run away to,” she went on, “Ponyville? That… backwash hick town? When you could be in Canterlot, a respectable cellist, and become the most successful and talented musician Equestria has known? I won’t allow it.” Octavia was no pushover, however. Not even as a young mare. “Mother, it is not up to you. My success and opportunities as a cellist are my own business. This is my choice to make and I have made it. If you have trouble accepting it, I apologize, but that will certainly not stop me from moving forward.” Octavia’s father, after a long silence, chose this moment to flare up. “Moving from a high-class society in a well-off household with multiple opportunities laying in wait for you to living alone in Ponyville” – he made sure to accent the pronunciation of the word with thick disgust – “is not moving forward, young mare. I must agree with your mother – this decision of yours is absolutely dreadful.” The young mare steeled to her parents. She wasn’t putting up with any more of this – her bags were packed and she had arranged for transport, which was waiting patiently outside of their lavish condominium. She was going to leave this argument the same way she left every other – with the last word. “That is unfortunate,” she said in an uncharacteristically soft tone, like somepony who was cooing their opponent calmly before certain defeat. “I was hoping for a little more support from those who raised me when it came to my independence, but I was foolish. It seems you wish only to hinder my progress. Truly unfortunate.” With that, she turned, not allowing a rebuttal, and steadily trotted out the door. She didn’t look back – if she had, perhaps she would have seen her younger sister look on in horror from the front door, shocked by the discourse she had just witnessed. Viviola’s icy stare at her across the table brought Octavia swimming out of her memories. The two stared at each other in heavy silence until the younger spoke. “You never explained yourself, Octavia. You simply left. To this day, I have no idea what was going on in your head that lead you to that decision, and I didn’t bring it up in these last few weeks because I felt that it would be rude to accept your kindness and then pester you about the past. But my curiosity got the best of me. And I believe after all of these years, I deserve an explanation. A full explanation.” Octavia subconsciously noted Viviola’s full use of her name. The younger mare was painfully informal on a consistent basis – only when Viviola was completely justified in being furious at Octavia did she mutter the first syllable of her older sister’s name. The gray mare let out a long sigh and looked back down at her soup bowl, as if she could find the words to say swimming around in it. She had known this was coming, but coming up with something to say always managed to push itself out of her mind. But something in her pushed, and she found herself speaking without her even thinking about it. Something in her decided it was best just to tell her sister how she felt at the time. “Life in that household was suffocating. Mother only wanted to see us become successful for her own self-validation and Father couldn’t protest to her to save his life.” Octavia knew she sounded spiteful, but she continued. “I didn’t want to be a cellist because Mother wanted me to, or because Father did, Viviola. I wanted to because I wanted it for me. I couldn’t make that clear to anypony if I was going to stay there. I knew I had to make a life for my own. I’m sorry if you felt I left you there alone, Vivi… I simply had to leave.” Viviola leaned back as if some rigid support in her had collapsed, taking in this new information. She had never detected any ill feelings between her sister and their parents, not until that night. How could she possibly have missed it? “I don’t understand, sis. Why did you have to leave? We knew you wanted to be a cellist by yourself – anypony could’ve guessed that!” “No. Any success I made under their care would have been hollow.” “You would have always been in the spotlight, though!” “With somepony always standing in the background, pulling the strings!” Octavia yelled. She wasn’t a very emotional pony, but she had simply never forgiven the image she held of her own mother: always working to live her lost dreams through her young fillies. The very thought angered Octavia to the point of rage sometimes. Viviola was visibly startled by her normally cool-headed sister’s outburst. She averted Octavia’s gaze when she quietly replied, “I didn’t know you felt that way.” Viviola was dealing with an internal conflict. Nopony spoke badly about her mother, who so caringly provided for her fillies… but this wasn’t just anypony. This was Octavia who was belittling their mother, practically exploding after so much as a defense of her name. She knew that Octavia and their mother still had made amends after the night Octavia left, but Viviola had no idea about these feeling in her older sister. Octavia suddenly realized how she had said her last sentence and her expression quickly changed from one of anger to one of sympathy. “I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t normally talk about it with anypony, so I guess I just… I…” She had no idea how to recover from what she had done. In the long run, a pony losing his or her temper is no big deal, but Octavia knew full well that Viviola was very sensitive to her older sister’s opinion of her, and their family, no matter how brash she may be when they talk. “I’m sorry.” A long pause preceded any further conversation. Viviola was still thinking about what Octavia said: had their mother really been living vicariously through her fillies? Or was Octavia just being foalish and making up excuses and false situations to cover a rash decision she made in adolescence? Octavia took this time to reflect on what she had said. Her feelings about her mother were clear, but did she word it correctly? She didn’t hate their mother, but she certainly didn’t like her. Could that be distinguished based on what she had said? Or, more importantly: how she had said it? It was the younger who had finally spoken. “I have one more question for you.” Whether she was honestly planning on asking this follow-up question or she simply wanted to break the near-unbearable silence, Octavia couldn’t tell, but she was thankful for it either way. “Why Ponyville? Why not somewhere else, like Manehatten?” This was another question Octavia knew she would be asked, but this one had a far simpler answer than the previous. “Manehatten has its reputation in being fast-paced and endlessly crowded. I simply could not focus on my works if I were to move there.” Viviola peered back up at Octavia, a puzzled look decorating her face. “Oh? Well then, why Ponyville? There are plenty of small towns such as this that are located much closer to Canterlot.” “Because, sister, you know very well the hardships we face as earth-pony string musicians.” “Of course, ‘tavia. But what has that got to do with moving here?” Octavia afforded herself a light chuckle, with but a trace of condescension in it. “I always forget your distaste for details. Ponyville is known across Equestria for being a city founded by earth ponies, one that has stuck to its tradition for years. I knew that moving here would allow me to make my music without being looked down upon or without anypony assuming I was less of a talented musician.” Viviola nodded her head slowly, returning to her half-empty bowl of soup. After taking a couple of sips, she looked at Octavia with somewhat pleading eyes and said, “I hope you don’t think I’m prying, sis. I just needed… a little closure, is all. I needed something to fill in the blanks.” Octavia smiled warmly, looking into Viviola’s blue-grey eyes. “It’s alright. I knew I’d have to explain myself someday.” The two ponies shared a smile, and Octavia felt a bit warmer towards her sister than she normally did. Despite the ugly turn the conversation had taken earlier on, it felt like the two were becoming closer, and that made Octavia feel quite happy. It had been quite a long few years. Chapter Three: Coming to TermsOctavia had just finished adjusting her purple bowtie and tuning her cello when a lovely voice floated up the stairwell and into her room: “Octavia, dear, are you about ready to go?” Smiling widely, she called back down, “Yes, mother, I do believe I am.” This was it. She was going to audition for the Grand Galloping Gala. She knew in her heart that she wouldn’t have gotten to where she was today without the loving support of her family. Every time she had an audition, they would accompany her, despite the fact that she had to arrive sometimes hours before the actual audition took place. The same was the case for rehearsals and performances. They were always there to support her, and she truly didn’t know what she’d do without them. The young mare made her way downstairs, cello in tow, and gave a bright smile to her family. She saw her father, who always made sure his mane was combed back for a performance, and her mother, who had just gotten done preparing her make-up and donned a beautiful hat. Viviola, however, was nowhere to be seen. “Octavia, dear,” her mother cooed, “before we leave, there’s a present for you in the other room. Just something we threw together to show how much we c-care about you.” Octavia frowned at that last stutter. That wasn’t something her mother ever did. Something was wrong, something had to be. She forced the thought out of her mind. Tonight was going to be perfect. Slowly, she made her way into the other room. There was one table, bare save the overturned card laying on top of it. The rest of the room was bare, as if any other decoration or piece of furniture might distract from the table sitting in the middle of the room. With trepidation, the mare approached the table. Almost fearfully, she flipped the card so it was facing up. On it was one word: ABANDONMENT. As her eyes moved over the word, registering its meaning, the world became darker. It was as if someone had taken the color, the life, out everything. Panicking, Octavia ran back to the room where her parents were – only to find them gone, replaced by Viviola, laying on the floor and staring up at her. “They’re gone now.” That was all she had said, before a large rumble shook Octavia off her hooves. Octavia awoke with a start, her whole body having jerked in reaction to the feeling of falling. As her mind stabilized and she got her bearings – she had to remember where she was and why she heard snoring coming from the other room – the dream poured itself back into her conscious memory. Abandonment. That one word flew around in her head like an angry bee. Abandonment. That’s certainly what she had felt in the dream – but why? What purpose did that serve? She decided that she wasn’t going to figure anything out with only – she checked the clock on her wall – five and a half hours of interrupted sleep. With a heavy sigh, she turned over, and tried not to think about it as she slowly fell back into a dreamless sleep. “Morning, sis,” Viviola said cheerfully when she saw that her sister was finally stumbling out of her room. At seeing her condition – her disheveled mane, her bleary eyes that reflected worry – Viviola added on, “Rough night?” “Yes,” sighed Octavia, sitting across from where her sister was shoveling down cold cereal, “you could say that, definitely.” “Bad dream?” The question, though innocuous enough in nature, gave Octavia a start. Did she know? Could she? How? Her logical thought processes kicked in to control her emotional ones. You’re being paranoid. Ponies have bad dreams all the time. She’s making conversation. “Yes, but it’s nothing to fret over. I still managed to get some sleep in there. How about you?” Viviola gave a light shrug and got up to pour herself another bowl, as she had amazingly finished what she had when Octavia walked in. “Can’t complain. Though, to be completely honest, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to sleeping on a couch. Sometimes I wake up and my back cracks in ways I never could imagine.” Her sister’s words fell on deaf ears. Octavia was deep in thought about what she had seen the night before. She couldn’t sort this out herself. She needed some help from somepony. And even in the dream, the only pony who seemed to have a handle on the situation was Viviola. “Vivi… do you think that, when I left, I… abandoned you? Abandoned the family?” Viviola stopped mid-pour, somewhat shocked at the sudden and surprising question. She slowly placed the cereal box upright, and turned to face her sister. “Abandoned… is a strong word, sis. It’s not to be used lightly. I don’t think what you did could be called ‘abandonment,’ per se…” Viviola trailed off. “Okay, thank you,” said Octavia, staring at the table in front of her, as if she could find some sort of closure to her problem written on it. Viviola knew that, though she had apparently ended the conversation, her sister wasn’t satisfied. “Why do you ask?” This elicited a very weak shrug from Octavia. Viviola wasn’t going to leave it at that. “Does this have something to do with your dream last night?” Octavia’s heart jumped. She didn’t think she wanted to talk about it… but if that was the case, then why did she ask Viviola what she did? With a sigh, Octavia made a decision. She needed another perspective on the matter. After Viviola sat down at the table, Octavia told her every detail of the dream that had so well burned itself into her memory. The smiles. The stutter. The card. Abandonment. After a long pause, no doubt for processing everything, Viviola spoke. She looked at her sister with pity and concern and asked her quietly, “Octavia, answer me as honestly as you possibly can. Do you feel guilty about leaving us so suddenly like that?” And suddenly, it started to come together for her. What the dream meant, how it was triggered by their conversation the night before. Speaking to her sister about her relationship with their mother rekindled those feelings of guilt she had felt when she left in the first place, and her subconscious was finally forcing it onto her. Realization filled her eyes and her mind as she started to understand the connection. She had experienced, last night in her dream, all of the discomfort and grief she imagined her parents and sister had felt when she had left, hitting her in one fell swoop. At least, that’s what she thought it meant. What else could it mean? Another long pause. Viviola knew her sister was trying to work everything out in her head, so she waited patiently. But slowly, Octavia looked back into her sister’s eyes, with something that seemed to be equally joy and dread, making Viviola a bit uneasy. “I’m sorry if I said something that-” “No, no,” said Octavia. “You’re right. That must be it. Guilt. I still must feel guilty… about leaving you.” “Clearly,” said Viviola, glad that she could help her sister make progress, “you have some things to work out. Maybe you even need to make amends with our mother.” The very idea of interacting with their mother made Octavia shudder involuntarily. But she saw no better options to resolving her guilt. Their mother was the only pony Octavia made sure never to speak to. “And,” continued Viviola, “you’ll have the perfect opportunity to tonight.” “Tonight?” asked Octavia blankly. “What’s-” She stopped herself, the obvious answer hitting her like a ton of bricks. “Tonight is Nightmare Night, isn’t it?” “…you’d forgotten?” Viviola let out a small laugh. “I suppose you were a bit pre-occupied this morning. I can’t say I’m offended. Yes, Nightmare Night is tonight. I even have a costume in mind for the show.” Octavia couldn’t honestly say that she was unhappy with the change in conversation. “A costume? You have to wear a costume, too?” There was a hint of condescension in her voice. Viviola crossed her forelegs defensively. “Yes. We all do. Tradition, remember?” “Right,” said Octavia apologetically. “So, what is your costume?” A wide smile appeared on Viviola’s face. “Well, I’ll tell you. Remember when we were young fillies, and I told you that you were a naturally scary pony?” Octavia still didn’t get it. “Yes, I do. It was an odd insult, to be sure, but we were young. What has that to do with this?” “Do you remember what I told you after that?” “Not particularly.” “I told you that I’d go so far as to dress up as a scarecrow version of you to freak ponies out.” For the second time that morning – an eventful morning it had been – realization and understanding dawned on the mare. “You didn’t.” “Oh, I did. Got your cutie mark and everything.” Octavia’s jaw dropped. “You– I– I don’t believe you! You’re going to dress up as me? For Nightmare Night? With my cutie mark?” “And your mane style. Don’t forget that.” “You are unbelievable.” “Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, sis. I would have thought if there would be anypony who would be happy that somepony wants to dress up as them, it would be you." “Did you at least change something? You won’t look exactly like me, right?” “No, of course not. The colors are different. The coat is the same color as mine and the mane is like yours but a different color as well.” Octavia just shook her head and impatiently held her hoof against it. “Well, at least nopony will think you’re actually me.” Viviola started to laugh, which made Octavia chuckle as well. “So,” Viviola said, taking on a more grave facial expression. “How about it? Are you going to talk to Mom tonight?” Octavia knew she had to, but a part of her told her to wait. Wait for what? That must have been her rational side again. “I don’t know, Vivi. It’s not going to be easy. We actually haven’t spoken in… how long has it been? Four years, five? How would I start that conversation?” “‘Oh hey, Mom, what’s up? So remember when I left abruptly? Yeah, good times, haha.’ Like that maybe?” “I don’t think you’re taking this as seriously as you should.” “I’m sorry. I guess it’s just… I don’t know, weird. You two not talking is normal now. But now all of a sudden you’re feeling guilty about it. It’s just hard to understand is all.” Octavia realized she hadn’t mentioned what she believed was the cause of her dream. “You mean, you have no idea what could have inspired these feelings in me? Some recent event that may have brought back those memories?” Viviola pondered. Then it hit her. “Oh, my – I’m so sorry, sister! I didn’t mean to cause this by asking you that, I-” “It’s okay,” Octavia interrupted. “Really. It’s not your fault. And, all in all, it’s a good thing that we finally may start talking again, right?” “I suppose.” Viviola didn’t know if the question was rhetorical or not but she felt that it would be better to be on the safe side. “Just don’t let your preconceived notions about what kind of a pony she is cloud your perception of reality, okay?” An oddly verbose bit of advice from her sister. “Okay. Thank you for your advice.” “You’re welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important orchestra pony things for which I need to prepare.” “Please, don’t let me stop you from perfecting your imitation of me.” To that, Viviola simply gave a smirk, and left. Octavia welcomed that time alone she had ahead of her. She had to think of how she would approach this delicate matter – what she would say to the pony she hadn’t spoken to in years.
Chapter One: ArrivalAs the warm sunlight burst through the window of her room, Octavia rolled around in her bed, the first signs of wakefulness creeping into her body. This is what she simply loved about days off – sleeping in, not having to worry about rehearsals, just being able to relax, with no distractions. As she blearily started to open her eyes, she truly appreciated that fact. Though, appreciation was about as far as Octavia could go with the idea of ‘no distractions’ that day, a fact she realized the moment she heard a knock on her door. The sudden loud noise startled a still-groggy Octavia into an upright position. After rubbing her eyes a few times with her hooves and regaining her bearings from the scare, she stretched and hopped onto the floor. The clock on the wall read exactly ten thirty in the morning; either the pony at her door was very punctual, very lucky, or very late. “Just one second, please,” called out Octavia, in a voice that suggested both friendliness and irritation on her part. It was the voice she used when anyone interrupted her in anything for any reason. It was almost as trademark as the bowtie she fastened around her neck. Other orchestra ponies wore their bowties during performances only, but to Octavia, the bowtie just felt natural, and without it she felt naked. She also thought that she looked silly without it. So, she made sure to put it on every morning, as part of her routine. As she turned towards the direction of the door, Octavia made a quick survey of the few rooms she had, to make sure nothing was out that she didn’t want anypony to see, such as a new, secret composition for her cello, or the occasional private journal she wrote before or after a performance. She saw only what she wanted other ponies to see, however: her cello, leaning against the wall in its case; her multiple awards on one shelf dedicated to trophies and memorabilia; her sound setup, including microphones, multiple speakers, a tuner and record player; and of course, all of the furniture she felt necessary to own. In her relatively packed living space, that wasn’t much, but just enough to allow for the occasional guest, which was about all she could manage in an apartment as small as hers. Octavia walked slowly towards the door and was almost to it when she heard her guest call out. “Hey, ‘tavia, open up, will you?” Octavia stopped. Pet names were not uncommon for the pony; it seemed that a name like hers lent itself to one. Some called her ‘Tavi,’ others ‘Octy.’ But only one pony in the whole of Equestria called her ‘tavia. Octavia reluctantly opened up the door to reveal her slightly younger sister, Viviola. “Heya there, ‘tavia. How are you doing on this fine day?” To illustrate the fact that the day was indeed a fine one, the pony gestured toward the skies above her with the hoof she wasn’t using to lean against Octavia’s doorframe. The sun shone off of Viviola’s purple-streaked mane, giving it a somewhat luminescent quality, almost accentuating her creamy yellow coat. She chose not to wear her purple bowtie, as she generally didn’t wear it outside of performances and never wore it around her sister. Octavia groaned as her yellow-coated sibling went back to a normal standing position. “Vivi, what is it that you want?” She put on her very best annoyed face. “I’m very busy.” “Oh, my,” responded Viviola playfully, “you must have been so preoccupied sleeping at ten in the morning, sis!” Viviola’s eyes possessed a quality both mocking and somewhat condescending in that moment. That always managed to bring out the worst in Octavia. “Now hold on, Viviola,” said Octavia through gritted teeth, “I’ll have you know that I get very few days off, and I work hard enough that I deserve to spend them however I want. I wouldn’t expect you to know much about working hard, though.” Viviola gasped, mockingly acting offended. “Why, I never, big sis! To think you’d be so riled up at a simple playful gesture! I’m delighted to see that you haven’t changed a bit, not since leaving Canterlot for… this place.” Octavia groaned again, wondering once more why her sister intended to make her life hard. Viviola was born about a year and a half after Octavia, and Octavia had heard that the younger sibling in relationships between two sisters tended to be more… expressive. Viviola was much like Octavia, but a few key aspects of her personality set the two apart: If you asked Viviola, she’d tell you that she was less stuffy than her posh older sister. She knew how to have fun and not worry about things all the time. In her eyes, her sister was just too stuck up. Octavia, on the other hoof, felt that Viviola couldn’t take anything seriously. When they both chose their instruments at a young age, Octavia practiced her cello night and day, taking good care to keep it clean, tuned, and ready to go at a moment’s notice; Viviola, however, would casually toss her violin on to her bed and do whatever it was that occupied her at the time. Granted, Viviola was still a talented violinist; it’s just that she lacked the focus to become great, like Octavia considered herself to be. Viviola casually trotted into Octavia’s apartment, leaving Octavia to close the door behind her. “So, sis, what’ve you been up to since the Gala?” Octavia detected a hint of bitterness in Viviola’s voice. They had both auditioned to attend the Gala, and Viviola was still a little… disappointed that Octavia got a part and she didn’t. That’s what you get for not focusing, Octavia had said. Just another bit of malice between the two of them. Octavia stood glaring at Viviola – half out of distrust, half out of genuine curiosity – when she responded, “Working. My career didn’t stop after the Gala, believe it or not. And what have you been up to? Same as always?” It would not be untrue to say that Octavia asked this simply to throw her own success in her sister’s face again. Viviola had been expecting this, however, as it was how every conversation of theirs – no matter how few and far between they were – began, in some form or another. “Yes, sis, same as always. Not letting how successful others think I should be weigh me down and destroy my ability to enjoy life.” The mare paused, and feigned thoughtfulness for effect. “Though, I wouldn’t suspect that you would know anything about that, eh, sis?” “I can’t imagine how amazing it would be to be able to sleep in every day, I must admit. Free from important engagements and work, only occasionally being expected to show potential. That must be thrilling.” Viviola showed her first signs of being truly upset, her face drooping into an honestly offended frown. “Now, sister, I didn’t come here to play verbal fencing with you. I do have a reason, and it would be fair to say that my particular jabbing at you has been a means of stalling this point.” “And I fear that you stall further, dear sister,” responded Octavia calmly. “What is it that brought you here all the way from Canterlot?” Viviola sighed quite audibly. “I need to ask of you a favor. First, let me explain. “Believe it or not, I still love quite dearly to play music. I know that I can be a little bit… distractible, at times, but I still take whatever opportunities I can to play for ponies. Though this is true, I found that being rejected from the Gala has left me…” she looked around, as if expecting to find whatever words she was looking for on the ceiling. “…feeling a tad unlike myself in that respect. “Naturally, my opportunities at playing are at an all-time low. People don’t want an earth pony violinist they had scarcely heard of playing in their respectable orchestras. “But despite all that, my luck seems to have taken a small upswing. I was recently invited to play in an orchestra soon.” “My congratulations,” said Octavia. She wasn’t even being sarcastic – now that they had gotten the obligatory verbal sparring out of the way, she had the capacity to be happy for her younger sister. “No matter what I may say to you, sister, I always wish you success. I am happy to see that you are back on the right track. What orchestra? Is this for a concert, or for an event?” “An… event,” said the yellow pony tentatively. Octavia could tell that there was a part of the story that Viviola didn’t want to explain, most likely out of embarrassment. Octavia took it upon herself to coax it out of her. “Ah. What event would that be?” “It’s… a local celebration. Here, in Ponyville.” A pause in the conversation occurred as Octavia considered to what event her sister was referring. There was only one she could think of that could be even remotely considered to require live music. “The Nightmare Night celebration?” Viviola nodded embarrassedly. She was never the type to be ashamed of who she was and what she did… except, of course, in front of her big sister. Expecting disapproving eyes, Viviola looked up at Octavia slowly, and was instead greeted with a warm smile and a comforting look. “I’m proud of you, Viviola. You haven’t done a public performance in a long time. This will be good for you. And Nightmare Night is just as an important tradition around here as Winter Wrap-Up. You never know – somepony may notice you. Where are you staying, though? I know you detest travel, so I wouldn’t expect you to come here and go back to Canterlot over and over.” Viviola produced another sheepish look. “That’s actually why I came to you, ‘tavia. I need a place to stay for the remainder. But I am finding myself lacking in bits… if it wouldn’t be too much trouble…” Octavia was genuinely surprised. For Viviola to talk so much about her career to her, and then to ask for a favor such as this? That was most unlike the younger sister she knew. But despite willfully residing in Ponyville, she considered herself to be an upper-class pony, and upper-class ponies knew the meaning of familial obligations. “If you can handle sleeping on the couch,” she said back to her younger sister, “you may stay as long as you like.” “Oh, thank you, sister!” Viviola expressed excitedly. Before Octavia could stop her, Viviola wrapped her forehooves around her older sister’s neck in a tight, warm hug. Octavia loved her sister, but couldn’t help but feel the slightest bit anxious at the situation in which she had just agreed to be put.
Chapter Two: In the PastAs the days grew shorter and colder, Viviola began preparing for her part in the Nightmare Night orchestra. It was a relatively small act; she had been told that she would be on stage for any time between half an hour and an hour, playing the same two songs over and over for the entertainment of passersby. (This was specifically why Octavia turned down the position. That, and her already busy schedule.) Even so, she took it very seriously, and practiced as often as she possibly could. As they were eating dinner one night, Viviola asked a question, spoken quickly and intensely before the young mare could stop herself. “Why did you leave?” Octavia’s spoon, filled to the brim with soup, wedged in the cleft of her hoof, stopped its upward journey towards her mouth. Octavia looked down at the table involuntarily. She knew exactly what Viviola was talking about, just as well as Viviola knew it was a sore subject with Octavia. The memories came crushing back to the mare, flooding her conscious almost immediately. Octavia’s leaving Canterlot for Ponyville was no simple matter. She was still young, but was already becoming a well-known cellist. She had just been enrolled by her parents in a school for young talented musicians when she made the announcement one night that she was going to leave that all behind and move to Ponyville, to start her own life. Naturally, this caused a shock for her family. Especially Viviola – the two were never close, per se, but Viviola still had to deal with the sudden jarring announcement that she wouldn’t see her sister except for the occasional visit and performance attendance. Their father was worried for Octavia’s safety, and for her success, as she was still young (“Hardly eighteen years old – you’re still practically a filly!”), but their mother, living in Canterlot her whole life and being raised in the typical mindset, was worried more about Octavia’s reputation. “Of all the places to run away to,” she went on, “Ponyville? That… backwash hick town? When you could be in Canterlot, a respectable cellist, and become the most successful and talented musician Equestria has known? I won’t allow it.” Octavia was no pushover, however. Not even as a young mare. “Mother, it is not up to you. My success and opportunities as a cellist are my own business. This is my choice to make and I have made it. If you have trouble accepting it, I apologize, but that will certainly not stop me from moving forward.” Octavia’s father, after a long silence, chose this moment to flare up. “Moving from a high-class society in a well-off household with multiple opportunities laying in wait for you to living alone in Ponyville” – he made sure to accent the pronunciation of the word with thick disgust – “is not moving forward, young mare. I must agree with your mother – this decision of yours is absolutely dreadful.” The young mare steeled to her parents. She wasn’t putting up with any more of this – her bags were packed and she had arranged for transport, which was waiting patiently outside of their lavish condominium. She was going to leave this argument the same way she left every other – with the last word. “That is unfortunate,” she said in an uncharacteristically soft tone, like somepony who was cooing their opponent calmly before certain defeat. “I was hoping for a little more support from those who raised me when it came to my independence, but I was foolish. It seems you wish only to hinder my progress. Truly unfortunate.” With that, she turned, not allowing a rebuttal, and steadily trotted out the door. She didn’t look back – if she had, perhaps she would have seen her younger sister look on in horror from the front door, shocked by the discourse she had just witnessed. Viviola’s icy stare at her across the table brought Octavia swimming out of her memories. The two stared at each other in heavy silence until the younger spoke. “You never explained yourself, Octavia. You simply left. To this day, I have no idea what was going on in your head that lead you to that decision, and I didn’t bring it up in these last few weeks because I felt that it would be rude to accept your kindness and then pester you about the past. But my curiosity got the best of me. And I believe after all of these years, I deserve an explanation. A full explanation.” Octavia subconsciously noted Viviola’s full use of her name. The younger mare was painfully informal on a consistent basis – only when Viviola was completely justified in being furious at Octavia did she mutter the first syllable of her older sister’s name. The gray mare let out a long sigh and looked back down at her soup bowl, as if she could find the words to say swimming around in it. She had known this was coming, but coming up with something to say always managed to push itself out of her mind. But something in her pushed, and she found herself speaking without her even thinking about it. Something in her decided it was best just to tell her sister how she felt at the time. “Life in that household was suffocating. Mother only wanted to see us become successful for her own self-validation and Father couldn’t protest to her to save his life.” Octavia knew she sounded spiteful, but she continued. “I didn’t want to be a cellist because Mother wanted me to, or because Father did, Viviola. I wanted to because I wanted it for me. I couldn’t make that clear to anypony if I was going to stay there. I knew I had to make a life for my own. I’m sorry if you felt I left you there alone, Vivi… I simply had to leave.” Viviola leaned back as if some rigid support in her had collapsed, taking in this new information. She had never detected any ill feelings between her sister and their parents, not until that night. How could she possibly have missed it? “I don’t understand, sis. Why did you have to leave? We knew you wanted to be a cellist by yourself – anypony could’ve guessed that!” “No. Any success I made under their care would have been hollow.” “You would have always been in the spotlight, though!” “With somepony always standing in the background, pulling the strings!” Octavia yelled. She wasn’t a very emotional pony, but she had simply never forgiven the image she held of her own mother: always working to live her lost dreams through her young fillies. The very thought angered Octavia to the point of rage sometimes. Viviola was visibly startled by her normally cool-headed sister’s outburst. She averted Octavia’s gaze when she quietly replied, “I didn’t know you felt that way.” Viviola was dealing with an internal conflict. Nopony spoke badly about her mother, who so caringly provided for her fillies… but this wasn’t just anypony. This was Octavia who was belittling their mother, practically exploding after so much as a defense of her name. She knew that Octavia and their mother still had made amends after the night Octavia left, but Viviola had no idea about these feeling in her older sister. Octavia suddenly realized how she had said her last sentence and her expression quickly changed from one of anger to one of sympathy. “I’m… I’m sorry. I don’t normally talk about it with anypony, so I guess I just… I…” She had no idea how to recover from what she had done. In the long run, a pony losing his or her temper is no big deal, but Octavia knew full well that Viviola was very sensitive to her older sister’s opinion of her, and their family, no matter how brash she may be when they talk. “I’m sorry.” A long pause preceded any further conversation. Viviola was still thinking about what Octavia said: had their mother really been living vicariously through her fillies? Or was Octavia just being foalish and making up excuses and false situations to cover a rash decision she made in adolescence? Octavia took this time to reflect on what she had said. Her feelings about her mother were clear, but did she word it correctly? She didn’t hate their mother, but she certainly didn’t like her. Could that be distinguished based on what she had said? Or, more importantly: how she had said it? It was the younger who had finally spoken. “I have one more question for you.” Whether she was honestly planning on asking this follow-up question or she simply wanted to break the near-unbearable silence, Octavia couldn’t tell, but she was thankful for it either way. “Why Ponyville? Why not somewhere else, like Manehatten?” This was another question Octavia knew she would be asked, but this one had a far simpler answer than the previous. “Manehatten has its reputation in being fast-paced and endlessly crowded. I simply could not focus on my works if I were to move there.” Viviola peered back up at Octavia, a puzzled look decorating her face. “Oh? Well then, why Ponyville? There are plenty of small towns such as this that are located much closer to Canterlot.” “Because, sister, you know very well the hardships we face as earth-pony string musicians.” “Of course, ‘tavia. But what has that got to do with moving here?” Octavia afforded herself a light chuckle, with but a trace of condescension in it. “I always forget your distaste for details. Ponyville is known across Equestria for being a city founded by earth ponies, one that has stuck to its tradition for years. I knew that moving here would allow me to make my music without being looked down upon or without anypony assuming I was less of a talented musician.” Viviola nodded her head slowly, returning to her half-empty bowl of soup. After taking a couple of sips, she looked at Octavia with somewhat pleading eyes and said, “I hope you don’t think I’m prying, sis. I just needed… a little closure, is all. I needed something to fill in the blanks.” Octavia smiled warmly, looking into Viviola’s blue-grey eyes. “It’s alright. I knew I’d have to explain myself someday.” The two ponies shared a smile, and Octavia felt a bit warmer towards her sister than she normally did. Despite the ugly turn the conversation had taken earlier on, it felt like the two were becoming closer, and that made Octavia feel quite happy. It had been quite a long few years.
Chapter Three: Coming to TermsOctavia had just finished adjusting her purple bowtie and tuning her cello when a lovely voice floated up the stairwell and into her room: “Octavia, dear, are you about ready to go?” Smiling widely, she called back down, “Yes, mother, I do believe I am.” This was it. She was going to audition for the Grand Galloping Gala. She knew in her heart that she wouldn’t have gotten to where she was today without the loving support of her family. Every time she had an audition, they would accompany her, despite the fact that she had to arrive sometimes hours before the actual audition took place. The same was the case for rehearsals and performances. They were always there to support her, and she truly didn’t know what she’d do without them. The young mare made her way downstairs, cello in tow, and gave a bright smile to her family. She saw her father, who always made sure his mane was combed back for a performance, and her mother, who had just gotten done preparing her make-up and donned a beautiful hat. Viviola, however, was nowhere to be seen. “Octavia, dear,” her mother cooed, “before we leave, there’s a present for you in the other room. Just something we threw together to show how much we c-care about you.” Octavia frowned at that last stutter. That wasn’t something her mother ever did. Something was wrong, something had to be. She forced the thought out of her mind. Tonight was going to be perfect. Slowly, she made her way into the other room. There was one table, bare save the overturned card laying on top of it. The rest of the room was bare, as if any other decoration or piece of furniture might distract from the table sitting in the middle of the room. With trepidation, the mare approached the table. Almost fearfully, she flipped the card so it was facing up. On it was one word: ABANDONMENT. As her eyes moved over the word, registering its meaning, the world became darker. It was as if someone had taken the color, the life, out everything. Panicking, Octavia ran back to the room where her parents were – only to find them gone, replaced by Viviola, laying on the floor and staring up at her. “They’re gone now.” That was all she had said, before a large rumble shook Octavia off her hooves. Octavia awoke with a start, her whole body having jerked in reaction to the feeling of falling. As her mind stabilized and she got her bearings – she had to remember where she was and why she heard snoring coming from the other room – the dream poured itself back into her conscious memory. Abandonment. That one word flew around in her head like an angry bee. Abandonment. That’s certainly what she had felt in the dream – but why? What purpose did that serve? She decided that she wasn’t going to figure anything out with only – she checked the clock on her wall – five and a half hours of interrupted sleep. With a heavy sigh, she turned over, and tried not to think about it as she slowly fell back into a dreamless sleep. “Morning, sis,” Viviola said cheerfully when she saw that her sister was finally stumbling out of her room. At seeing her condition – her disheveled mane, her bleary eyes that reflected worry – Viviola added on, “Rough night?” “Yes,” sighed Octavia, sitting across from where her sister was shoveling down cold cereal, “you could say that, definitely.” “Bad dream?” The question, though innocuous enough in nature, gave Octavia a start. Did she know? Could she? How? Her logical thought processes kicked in to control her emotional ones. You’re being paranoid. Ponies have bad dreams all the time. She’s making conversation. “Yes, but it’s nothing to fret over. I still managed to get some sleep in there. How about you?” Viviola gave a light shrug and got up to pour herself another bowl, as she had amazingly finished what she had when Octavia walked in. “Can’t complain. Though, to be completely honest, I don’t think I’ll ever get used to sleeping on a couch. Sometimes I wake up and my back cracks in ways I never could imagine.” Her sister’s words fell on deaf ears. Octavia was deep in thought about what she had seen the night before. She couldn’t sort this out herself. She needed some help from somepony. And even in the dream, the only pony who seemed to have a handle on the situation was Viviola. “Vivi… do you think that, when I left, I… abandoned you? Abandoned the family?” Viviola stopped mid-pour, somewhat shocked at the sudden and surprising question. She slowly placed the cereal box upright, and turned to face her sister. “Abandoned… is a strong word, sis. It’s not to be used lightly. I don’t think what you did could be called ‘abandonment,’ per se…” Viviola trailed off. “Okay, thank you,” said Octavia, staring at the table in front of her, as if she could find some sort of closure to her problem written on it. Viviola knew that, though she had apparently ended the conversation, her sister wasn’t satisfied. “Why do you ask?” This elicited a very weak shrug from Octavia. Viviola wasn’t going to leave it at that. “Does this have something to do with your dream last night?” Octavia’s heart jumped. She didn’t think she wanted to talk about it… but if that was the case, then why did she ask Viviola what she did? With a sigh, Octavia made a decision. She needed another perspective on the matter. After Viviola sat down at the table, Octavia told her every detail of the dream that had so well burned itself into her memory. The smiles. The stutter. The card. Abandonment. After a long pause, no doubt for processing everything, Viviola spoke. She looked at her sister with pity and concern and asked her quietly, “Octavia, answer me as honestly as you possibly can. Do you feel guilty about leaving us so suddenly like that?” And suddenly, it started to come together for her. What the dream meant, how it was triggered by their conversation the night before. Speaking to her sister about her relationship with their mother rekindled those feelings of guilt she had felt when she left in the first place, and her subconscious was finally forcing it onto her. Realization filled her eyes and her mind as she started to understand the connection. She had experienced, last night in her dream, all of the discomfort and grief she imagined her parents and sister had felt when she had left, hitting her in one fell swoop. At least, that’s what she thought it meant. What else could it mean? Another long pause. Viviola knew her sister was trying to work everything out in her head, so she waited patiently. But slowly, Octavia looked back into her sister’s eyes, with something that seemed to be equally joy and dread, making Viviola a bit uneasy. “I’m sorry if I said something that-” “No, no,” said Octavia. “You’re right. That must be it. Guilt. I still must feel guilty… about leaving you.” “Clearly,” said Viviola, glad that she could help her sister make progress, “you have some things to work out. Maybe you even need to make amends with our mother.” The very idea of interacting with their mother made Octavia shudder involuntarily. But she saw no better options to resolving her guilt. Their mother was the only pony Octavia made sure never to speak to. “And,” continued Viviola, “you’ll have the perfect opportunity to tonight.” “Tonight?” asked Octavia blankly. “What’s-” She stopped herself, the obvious answer hitting her like a ton of bricks. “Tonight is Nightmare Night, isn’t it?” “…you’d forgotten?” Viviola let out a small laugh. “I suppose you were a bit pre-occupied this morning. I can’t say I’m offended. Yes, Nightmare Night is tonight. I even have a costume in mind for the show.” Octavia couldn’t honestly say that she was unhappy with the change in conversation. “A costume? You have to wear a costume, too?” There was a hint of condescension in her voice. Viviola crossed her forelegs defensively. “Yes. We all do. Tradition, remember?” “Right,” said Octavia apologetically. “So, what is your costume?” A wide smile appeared on Viviola’s face. “Well, I’ll tell you. Remember when we were young fillies, and I told you that you were a naturally scary pony?” Octavia still didn’t get it. “Yes, I do. It was an odd insult, to be sure, but we were young. What has that to do with this?” “Do you remember what I told you after that?” “Not particularly.” “I told you that I’d go so far as to dress up as a scarecrow version of you to freak ponies out.” For the second time that morning – an eventful morning it had been – realization and understanding dawned on the mare. “You didn’t.” “Oh, I did. Got your cutie mark and everything.” Octavia’s jaw dropped. “You– I– I don’t believe you! You’re going to dress up as me? For Nightmare Night? With my cutie mark?” “And your mane style. Don’t forget that.” “You are unbelievable.” “Imitation is the most sincere form of flattery, sis. I would have thought if there would be anypony who would be happy that somepony wants to dress up as them, it would be you." “Did you at least change something? You won’t look exactly like me, right?” “No, of course not. The colors are different. The coat is the same color as mine and the mane is like yours but a different color as well.” Octavia just shook her head and impatiently held her hoof against it. “Well, at least nopony will think you’re actually me.” Viviola started to laugh, which made Octavia chuckle as well. “So,” Viviola said, taking on a more grave facial expression. “How about it? Are you going to talk to Mom tonight?” Octavia knew she had to, but a part of her told her to wait. Wait for what? That must have been her rational side again. “I don’t know, Vivi. It’s not going to be easy. We actually haven’t spoken in… how long has it been? Four years, five? How would I start that conversation?” “‘Oh hey, Mom, what’s up? So remember when I left abruptly? Yeah, good times, haha.’ Like that maybe?” “I don’t think you’re taking this as seriously as you should.” “I’m sorry. I guess it’s just… I don’t know, weird. You two not talking is normal now. But now all of a sudden you’re feeling guilty about it. It’s just hard to understand is all.” Octavia realized she hadn’t mentioned what she believed was the cause of her dream. “You mean, you have no idea what could have inspired these feelings in me? Some recent event that may have brought back those memories?” Viviola pondered. Then it hit her. “Oh, my – I’m so sorry, sister! I didn’t mean to cause this by asking you that, I-” “It’s okay,” Octavia interrupted. “Really. It’s not your fault. And, all in all, it’s a good thing that we finally may start talking again, right?” “I suppose.” Viviola didn’t know if the question was rhetorical or not but she felt that it would be better to be on the safe side. “Just don’t let your preconceived notions about what kind of a pony she is cloud your perception of reality, okay?” An oddly verbose bit of advice from her sister. “Okay. Thank you for your advice.” “You’re welcome. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have important orchestra pony things for which I need to prepare.” “Please, don’t let me stop you from perfecting your imitation of me.” To that, Viviola simply gave a smirk, and left. Octavia welcomed that time alone she had ahead of her. She had to think of how she would approach this delicate matter – what she would say to the pony she hadn’t spoken to in years.
