“We are bored.” I proclaim.
Celestia glances up at me over her tea. “Just don’t be.” She turns back to her newspaper.
“How helpful.” I respond dryly. “Seriously Tia, it’s all work all the time, I want to do something fun.”
“Then go do something, you’re a big girl.”
“Tiaaaa.”
“No, Luna.”
“Tiaaaaa.”
“No.”
“Tiaaaaaa.”
She glares at me. I stick out my tongue and waggle my ears, chuckling. Her horn flashes, and suddenly half of my vision is obscured with white. I blink and lick my lips, trying to determine what I have just been assailed by.
“Whipped cream. How very mature of you, sister dearest.”
Celestia blows a raspberry and goes back to her newspaper, then squeals loudly.
“Look, Luna!” She thrusts it in my face. “Canterlot Symphony Orchestra is playing tonight!” She flips it back around and scans the article. “They’re playing Beethooven and Przewalski! Remember when you used to spend hours upon hours with them, your students of the arts?”
“I remember perfectly well, Tia.” I allow a slight grin to creep across my face. “Perhaps I will attend. It is always nice to hear from old friends again.” My smirk grows. “But first, eldest sisters must face sugary retribution.”
Celestia is out of her chair and nearly to the door by the time I finish my sentence.
“You’ll have to catch me first!” She singsongs and sticks her tongue out before dashing away.
“Tia, get your flank back here and accept your fate!” I loft a pan of whipped cream in my magic and give chase.
I stand above the crowds, looking down on the orchestra. The state box floats high above the seats, a banner with my cutie mark draped over the sides. Running my hoof over the banister, I allow myself to slip into memory. Where the orchestra sits patiently waiting for their conductor, a hundred phantoms move in unison, answering to the unspoken cues of their maestro. In my mind’s eye, Przewalski stands before them, hooves moving wildly, commandeering them like puppets on strings.
The ghosts end their performance with a flourish, and the spectral audience applauds politely, before fading away. As they disappear, so to do the murmurings of the living, calling me back to the present.
The orchestra looks up at me, with several of the audience twisting to turn their eyes to me. Even after a thousand years, they still wait for their Matron’s approval. With a smile and a nod, they begin to play.
I settle into my seat as the music begins to resonate through the room, the deep hum of the bass melding with the higher violins, ebbing and flowing like the tides. Fitting, I mused to myself. Przewalksi always did like the ocean, despite that one trip we had. A light bulb goes off in my head. Of course you would write a song about it, you goof.
The trip in question was a rather disastrous adventure Przewalksi and I shared, the two of us in a small schooner as we attempted to cross the Northern Celestial Sea to return to his native Stalliongrad. It started easily enough, casting off from a small port town in the early morning, but come afternoon the seas were roiling and the heavens dashed rain upon us, only dark gray thunderclouds as far as the eye could see.
The bow strokes grow in frequency, frantically signaling the impending storm, and the basses begin to play a low ominous note, fading in before dropping down again.
A crescendo now, and the waves build, before crashing to the ground to the sound of a gong. The massive wave that split our bow and destroyed our ship embodied by a crash and then silence.
Just when the orchestra has silenced enough to let the audience believe the piece is over, a lone cello note cries out, mournful and slow. A calm, empty sea. No boat, no ponies, just the ocean and the dull gray sky. I blink at the soloist, vaguely familiar despite the distance between us. Charcoal coat with a pink bowtie. I rack my mind for clues, but only come up with one.
Cadenza.
I frown. The last time Cadance and I had interacted had to have been at her wedding, but why would this mare have been there? From my recollections, Candeza’s wedding was more modern than the ones I typically attend, and definitely no orchestra was present. I think there was a set of turntables?
The basses have joined in now, a sombre tone of despair. Over the lower instruments, the violins begin to pipe up, joyous staccato notes that herald the violas and the escape of the crew from the jaws of the sea. The gong strikes true, no longer a symbol of despair but of hope, of an alicorn bursting forth from the seas and wiping away the remnants of the storm. She draws the crew from the water with her magic, then with a final flourish from the orchestra, she carries her ponies home.
“Bravo, you crazy stallion.” I whisper as I applaud. “Truly, it was an honor to call you my friend.”
The orchestra sets into their next song, but I am far away, reliving the days of the past.
I shift anxiously and glance over the banister at the hundreds of ponies flooding out the doors into the lobby. Even two years after my return, I still fear that they may hate me, or worse, adore me. I really don’t want to give out autographs tonight.
Taking a breath, I steel myself and begin the trek down to the atrium. Each stair feels like a hundred, and I can feel my heart racing faster and faster with each step. I take a gulp of air and step through the curtains into the lobby.
Those in my immediate vicinity bow deeply before scurrying away. I sigh in relief. Fewer creatures for me to interact with. I glance around nervously, before movement in the corner of my eyes catches my attention.
The same charcoal mare sits next to a white unicorn with a ruffled electric blue mane, who is gesturing frantically, a grin on her face. I squint at them, trying to recall where I had seen the unicorn before. Cadenza’s name appears again, and I frown again.
The cellist laughs and looks away from the unicorn and meets my eyes. She pales slightly and nudges her partner before they stand up in unison and approach me. I quickly school my frown into a neutral smile as they draw close.
“Princess.” The gray one bows. “I hope the performance was to your liking.”
“I greatly enjoyed it. ‘Tis always nice to hear the works of my old friends once again.”
“I loved it.” The unicorn says as she throws an arm around the earth pony.
“Vinyl, get off of me, we’ve talked about this.” She pushes the unicorn away. “I apologize for her, Princess. She has absolutely no social awareness.”
I chuckle. “Her and I both.” I pause. “Have we met before?”
Vinyl answers. “I deejayed for Lovebutt’s wedding.”
“Vinyl!” The gray mare hisses and digs a hoof into Vinyl’s side. “If you keep this up you’re sleeping on the couch tonight.”
“Alright, alright!” She laughs and waggles her ears. “I get it, I get it.” She mimes zipping her lips with a hoof. “Shutting up now.”
The gray mare sighs and turns back to me. “Vinyl here was the deejay for Princess Cadance and Shining Armor’s wedding and dragged me along.”
I muse for a moment. “Miss Scratch, was it?” I address Vinyl, who has found a programme somewhere and is folding it into a paper airship.
“Hmm? Yeah, that’s me.” She answers without looking up.
“And you are…?” I look quizzically at the cellist.
“Octavia Melody.” Octavia bows again.
I open my mouth to speak, but hesitate again. “Forgive me if this is too forward, but would you like to see the royal gardens?”
Vinyl and Octavia flank me as we stroll through the gardens, salt and pepper ghosts in the night.
“Przewalksi was one of my best friends. You know not the joy you brought me tonight, playing his Tempest. It has been a thousand years since I have last heard it performed live.”
“See, I told you that the Princesses would like it.” Vinyl says.
“Shush, you.” Octavia grumbles. “I-”
Whatever she is about to say is cut off as we stop beside a large tree overlooking the city. The stars burn bright, glittering peacefully in the sky.
“This was his favorite spot.” I say softly. “He would often come here when he wanted to be alone, or when he wanted to compose something.” I turn to my shadows. “He said it helped him think. I have to agree with him.” I sit and gaze skyward, watching the stars flicker.
Octavia sits beside me, and Vinyl flops down next to her, curling up against the cellist’s side. I prick my ears and listen to the sounds of Canterlot. Lilting laughter from a pair of pegasi off in the distance, the wind rustling through the trees, and the breathing of my two companions fill my ears.
Music.
“Tell me, Miss Melody,” I say in a low voice. “On our way here, you mentioned that you wished to create music of your own. You clearly have the skills, so why have you not committed yet?”
“Vinyl does more of the composing,” She casts a fond glance at the sleeping unicorn. “Unfortunately, the symphony’s high standards leave me little time for creating.”
I wave a hoof across the scene before us. “There is ample opportunity here.” I close my eyes and take a deep breath. Pine needles, the heavy scent of rain on the horizon, the blend of aromas from the garden’s extensive flower beds.
Inspiration.
Octavia sits in silence, savoring the moment. As she opens her mouth to speak, a light blinks before us.
“Fireflies!” she breathes softly. It blinks again, seemingly in response to her. Another blink, slightly closer to us, then once more. I suppress a giggle as it lights once more on Octavia’s nose and she goes cross-eyed to look at it. Around us, more lights begin to flicker, a thousand miniature stars hiding in the grass.
Octavia smiles. “Przewalksi was right, it seems.” She hums a short burst of notes.
“Oh?”
She turns to me, eyes sparkling. “There’s so much life here!” She digs her hoof into the grass. “I can feel it all. The fireflies, the flowers, it’s all singing to me.” She blushes faintly. “It sounds cheesy, but the world seems clearer.”
I smile. “‘Tis not cheesy, as you put it. I too feel it. This grove is a rarity in today’s world, but know that you are welcome back at any time you so wish.”
“Thank you, Princess.” The firefly on Octavia’s nose pulses again, then performs a series of rapid blinks followed by a sustained glow. “This one speaks to me.” She gasps. “That’s it!”
“The Dance of the Fireflies.”
