Amore da capo

by Upatree502

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Sad
Length: 1352

You remember the very day that you met her. The day you met Octavia.

You remember the very day that you met her. Those unforgettable amethyst eyes. That perfect, adorable smile. Nothing would ever be the same after you met her. And you knew, instantly, that you loved her.

A short story about Octavia, in the perspective of someone– or rather something– very close to her.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2012-09-10 09:54:03 UTC

Chapter 1

“I expect a performance out of you.”

She says it with authority, her brows furrowed into a tight grimace as her profound amethyst eyes bear into your soul. God, you could stare into those enrapturing pools of violet your entire life; often you find yourself lost within them, swimming through the combers of her heart’s desire, letting each ripple of her secret pains wash over you, accepting them as your own. For she was a part of you, was she not? And you were a part of her.

Every sorrow ever torn through her heart, every pain and regret yet to be vanquished has thus been passed on to you from the very moments that the tips of her hooves touch your body. You surrender yourself completely to her. Every lasting moment of her presence with you numbs your mind; your breath comes out in shaky sighs as she touches you.

To say that she is beautiful is an understatement. Nothing in the world could describe the magnificence of this mare. She is your everything; you were nothing before you met her. Thinking about that day, the day you met her, makes your heart beat furiously, no matter the amount of times you’ve thought about it. There you had been, sitting up straight as you had been taught to, looking around with innocence at the ponies that passed you. Which one would it be? Would it be any of them? Oh God, what if no one even recognized you?

And then there she was, standing there, looking at you with her gorgeous, chaste eyes. She looked at you and you looked at her. Walking over to you, she examined you with childlike interest. She touched you for the first time, grazing you ever-so-lightly with her small hoof and tracing it down your side. A shiver ran down your entire frame and you trembled with anticipation. She picked up the bow beside you and in one slow yet precise movement, ran it across your strings.

And it was ecstasy.

Never before had you felt something so awe-inspiring; it was a breathtaking and terrifying experience all at once. Through the carelessness of your rapture, you let a moan escape through your lips and immediately flushed with embarrassment thereupon. But she seemed to enjoy the noise, for it brought a tiny smile to her lips. And she giggled. God, even remembering that giggle now makes your heart soar.

You were almost certain you were in love with her. You wanted to be with her for the rest of your life, to never let that adorable smile leave your sight and to gaze upon her every moment of your existence. But as soon as she had come, she was turning to leave. Joy turned to despair. You tried to cry out to her, wanting just once more to see those eyes. But you couldn’t make a sound. She turned the corner and she was gone.

You were certain your life was over. If you couldn’t spend it with her, then you didn’t want to live your life at all. But before you could wallow in your misery, there she was again. Joy soared through your heart and you could swear you almost jumped due to your elation. She had come back! And this time, she brought someone else.

He was a stallion who looked a lot like her— he had the same grey coat as her and even had nearly the same color mane, though his was shorter and looked to be a deep shade of brown rather than the coal color of her mane. He was laughing and stumbling along after the filly as she forcefully pulled him over to you.

“Here, Daddy! I want this one!” she squealed, her eyes lighting up with delight as she gazed at you.

The stallion came over and examined you. He lightly touched you with his hoof, and you felt nothing. No pony’s touch would ever compare to that of hers. The stallion hummed lowly, seeming to approve of you.

“A cello? Very interesting choice, Octavia,” he said.

Octavia. So that was her name. It was perfect. Simply, perfect. Nothing more could describe the name, for nothing more was needed to.

Her father picked you up and brought you over to the pony behind the counter. As he exchanged words and bits with the other pony, all you did was look at her. You couldn’t rip your eyes away from her and, for that matter, you never wanted to. It was only the darkness that suddenly surrounded you when you were put into a case that separated your eyes from Octavia.

The entire way home, you longed to see her again. You ached for her touch, to hear her laugh and see her smile once again. The wait was not too arduous for before you knew it light had poured into your vision once again and the case had opened completely.

The stallion lifted you out of your resting place and set you carefully on a stand. With an excited squeal, the filly you had come to love came running over and placed her hooves upon you. Bliss. She carefully brushed your sides and then, slowly, leaned in and rested her head upon you. You felt her heartbeat. You listened to her breathing and to that nearly inaudible tune she hummed unknowingly, as if music were a part of her very soul.

At that very moment, both of you knew that you were exactly where you needed to be. You became hers and she became yours. Over the years, the two of you became virtually one; you sang to the same tune, created symphonies only the two of you could hear. Everything was perfect.

Her hooves would strum upon your strings purposefully, her eyes closed in a state of harmony. And you would sing to her, to the chords she desired and the tune she envisioned. Sometimes she would frown in disappointment and you would feel ashamed, begging her to play more so that you could get it right the next time and she wouldn’t have to feel disheartened.

You loved her more than anything. And all it took was a look from her beautiful eyes and a soft smile to come across her lips to let you know that she felt the same way. But as you grew older, you felt as if it was becoming more and more difficult to please her.

You try to give it all that you have but it seems there is always some string that needs tuning, some kind of dissonance in your song. And it was beginning to get on Octavia’s nerves. Now, instead of looking at you with immeasurable love and serenity, she glares at you with pools of deep violet and her voice seems to repeat itself in your head.

“I expect a performance out of you.”

It bears rifts into your soul that never before you’d imagined you would feel; an agony tears through your heart that you thought would never be able to mend. So with a silent resolve and a pained physique, you do the only thing left you can do.

As she carries you out to the stage, you look not upon the thousands of silent aficionados, not upon the blinding lights that bear down on you, not upon the wooden stage that you so many times before had performed on, but on Octavia. On the mare you love so much and those amethyst eyes that look not at you but at the audience before her.

She sits down and holds you as she so many times had done before. Surges of agonized sorrow flood through you in its entirety. Octavia lifts the bow and rests it on your strings. And in that one moment, you let go of everything. Every past sorrow fades from your mind; every muffled noise in that amphitheater vanishes, replaced with nothing but silence. And with a tension you can hardly bear, Octavia finally guides the bow.

And you sing.

~ ~ ~

Inspired by CrombieTTW