Different

The instant you shut the door behind you, you head directly down the main, sparsely decorated hallway to what you elegantly refer to as, ‘The Box Room’. It’s quite aptly named, considering it’s full of boxes chalked full of random belongings and such. Without even a glance as to your surroundings, you enter the room, sitting down, and staring at the boxes with all the intensity you can muster.

Yes, from the outside, it looks rather...odd. But you always find yourself in the room, whether to think or to get away from your, frankly, rather snarky roommate. It was the only room that she hardly went into.

"Hey, you're back really early. What's up?"

Unfortunately for you, today was the occasion when she followed you. Briefly, you entertained the notion of lying to her to get her to just get away, but better judgement told you that it would just get worse that way. Instead, you sigh, before almost mumbling back. "Things went bad."

Unexpectedly, you hear the door shut, and the pegasus soon takes a seat next to you, in a strangely warm gesture-you almost put a hoof to her forehead to check for a fever. "It can't be that bad, right?"

You sigh, shaking your head. "Don't think so. Would you call, 'losing your only link to a bigger music career' not so bad?"

Sunny tsk's to herself. "So you lost the ability to play music with just one pony? Psh, you got me." You half consider slapping her, and she seems to notice this. “What? Just making sense.” It's silent for a few seconds, which seems to be pure bliss, until you realize that she seems to actually be listening to you. Not one to waste an opportunity, you decide to let it out instead of internalizing it.

"See, I put a lot into my music...but almost nopony hears it. I play two ways: emotionally and structured, and I have to improve the second if I want to have any kind of hope. But there comes a time where things like this happen, and...I don't even know. My only hope to pick my head back up is the sight of a rainbow...which...funny thing, actually."

You never considered yourself to ramble, but once you started, you apparently couldn't stop. "I met this pony today-she crashed to the ground, rather-"

"Ouch. You sure she didn’t die? If so, why did you meet a dead pony?"

Raising an eyebrow at Sunny's insistent, short, and rather sarcastic, responses, most including the word 'ouch', you continue. "Anyways...the oddest part was...her mane and her tail were both rainbow, and...it gave me a weird type of hope. That if I knew her, somehow, things would go right."

It's mostly silent as the yellow pegasus nods, occasionally 'mhm'ing to herself. Eventually, she changes track. "Sounds just like a normal bad day, except for the fact that you met a rainbow’s incarnate. So why are you all...”

You shrug-you have no idea, either.

She continues regardless. “Anyways, even though you were gone for only like...half an hour, I did get something done. I guess it kind of helps you with the second part of what you’re somehow struggling with.” She shakes her head to herself again, mumbling in a half-singsong tone. “Over-reac~tiooon...”

You blink as a piece of paper slides itself in front of you, which interrupts your masterfully prepared witty retort until you take in the writing at the top:

‘Heart of Nature

Clarinet                                                                                             Composed by Sunny Wings’

You’re puzzled for another few seconds, until you glance down, and realize that it’s a piece of music-Sunny happened to be another musician, which is perhaps one of the two reasons you hadn’t ripped her head off at one point in time. She seemed to be so much better in that field, in fact, explaining why she was both a flautist and, in a way, a composer. You’d yet to see anything she wrote even played yet, though...

“It’s part of a duet,” she explains. “I’ve been wondering why I never really wrote anything like this, so...” she shrugs. “I did.”

You blank out for a brief moment, remembering what you were first taught in music class: S.T.A.R.S.. Or, in simpler terms, Sharps(and flats), Tempo, Accidentals, Rhythms, Signature. It seems to be fairly simple; you have 3 flats in the key, it’s a nice tempo of 80 beats per minute, there’s only 2 accidentals, nothing past eighth notes, and it’s in 3/4 meter.

Shrugging, you open your case again, beginning to fit your instrument together much to her delight. “Oh, you want to try it now?” You can hear a note of excitement in her voice, which quickly vanishes in the next time she speaks. You briefly ponder why she’s so excited to not be excited. “Well, I guess we could give it a shot. I didn’t memorize my part for nothing, y’know.”

You finish assembling your instrument-noting that it definitely needs a bit of polish-before playing a note to test the reed’s position, and...why does it sound just like a flute?

You internally facehoof, before turning to find that Sunny has, apparently, a spare flute in a box that’s right next to her. “What? It’s nice to have one ready at all times.”

You sigh, shaking your head. “Whatever. Can we just play...?”

She nods, and you turn back to your music, taking a deep breath. The rest of the day has been horrible, but hopefully, you can at least find a little solace in music, as you always have...

The instant the first note comes out, you jump, so much that you end up producing what many clarinetists deem a ‘squeak’, before turning to your roommate with an incredulous look on your face. “What in Celestia’s name was that supposed to sound like?”

She raises an eyebrow. “Music? Maybe you played the wrong note.”

“Well, it sounds like Discord himself decided to play music.” Deciding not to get into an insult pitching argument, you decide to attempt to apply to some sort of logic to the situation. “What’s your first note, then?”

“C.”

You frown. “...and why, exactly, then, did you give me an E flat?”

“Because the spacing is a minor third?”

You sigh, shaking your head. No wonder it sounded so horrible. “Actually, no. You know how my instrument is called a ‘B Flat Clarinet’?”

“Because that’s its best note?”

Sometimes, you question the pegasus’ intelligence. And as of now, it seemed a bit annoying that you even had to correct your superior musician on this. “No...ugh, let me explain. Transposition. If I play a C, it sounds like a B flat. If I play an E flat, it sounds like a D Flat, or a C sharp.”

You can see it slowly dawn on her face. “...oh...so everything is down a step, and...”

You decide to finish it for her. “...and a natural and a sharp together sound demonic, yes. Out of curiosity, which instruments have you written for?”

“Flute, bass guitar, trombone, tuba, a little bit of piano, and percussion...” she paused, frowning. “...though I never quite got that one.”

You finally understand: while she did compose, and knew probably a lot more than you, your (rather frustrating) experiences with a clarinet, had taught you transposition: Prench (...why they weren’t in Prance puzzled you) horns were in ‘F’, Clarinets were, obviously, in ‘B Flat’, as were trumpets, Saxophones (except for tenor) were in ‘E flat’. Her fatal mistake had been that she’d never written for any of those instruments. “Well, there’s your problem,” you start, rolling your eyes. “You never wrote for any ‘transposing instruments’. Just practice a bit, ask a few other musical ponies. They’ll probably be able to teach you.”

She nods. “Alright.” Only a second passes before she smiles, turning to you. “Hey Clarence, how do you write for a transposing instrument?”

You groan, rolling your eyes. “Seriously?”

“Nope.”

You push yourself up, quickly turning for the door. “Right. Well, I’m glad I could do ‘business’ with you.”

“You call that business? I’ve done better business with those door-to-door sales ponies, and all I do is slam the door in their face.”

You pause, already halfway out the door. You turn, and the smile on her face is just so cocky, so confident...you can’t help but to fire just one retort back before walking out, in what can be pretty much the second time in your life you’ve actually strutted: “That would be implying that anypony would risk seeing your face just to sell anything to you.”

The silence that follows is so much sweeter than it was before.