Meraki

by Quill of Filth

Rating: everyone
Tags: DJ P0N-3, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Octavia
Length: 4401

Going about her day normally, a problem arose for Octavia. A deep one. She begins to postulate and even vocalize her problem to Vinyl. But it seems it's beyond her understanding.

Going about her day normally, a problem arose for Octavia. A deep one. She begins to postulate and even vocalize her problem to Vinyl. But it seems it's beyond her understanding.

Published 2022-07-21 08:40:00 UTC
Last updated 2022-07-21 08:40:00 UTC

Reverie

A pleasant sound gently came into being.

The bow and its string were gracefully pulled back along the cello strings, prolonging the sound. A goldish grey hoof holding the neck of the oak cello moved higher before pressing down, changing the tone. The mare's eyes were closed, honing all her focus onto the movements of her forelegs and the sound that travelled through the air. The note wasn't held for long as her hoof briskly lowered down the neck again. The bow had traveled its full length and was about to be pulled back, alluding to a transition to the next chords when it stopped, making the melody abruptly cease. Seconds passed, but the bow remained still…

Octavia gave a dejected sigh with her ears folded back before opening her violet eyes.

The summer light shone through the window onto the wooden floor as she stood in the center of the living room, or rather, her side of the living room, in silence.

The house was divided down its center, with her side being more old fashioned, with a brown hue, older furniture, a table, and even a black grand piano. But on the other side, it was more modern with a mauve hue, electronics, a bass, and a DJ set.

It wasn't originally like this, but ended up this way due to her wants not being met, particularly on overall ordliness. She made the executive decision to seperate the house to give her roommate freedom of her own.

Her musing was disrupted by the sound of the front door opening. A white unicorn mare with violet goggles, headphones draped around her neck, and a dark blue with neon blue highlights of an unkempt mane draping mostly to one side entered, carrying what appeared to be groceries in her saddlebags.

"Did you happen to get ice cream?" Octavia inquired. "It's been extremely hot today."

Vinyl used her hindleg to shut the door behind her, giving Octavia a lopsided smile and shaking her head.

Octavia gave another sigh, "I suppose I could take a cold shower if it gets too unbearable."

Across the living room, Vinyl entered the kitchen out of sight, but Octavia could faintly hear her putting things away. It wasn't long before Vinyl appeared again, drinking from a bottle of milk. She approached her dj set, standing before it, already wearing her headphones and tinkering with knobs and switches.

Octavia wondered how she did it. Not just how she made the music, but finding the seemingly endless well of inspiration and the passion to make it.

"You know, I envy your ability to immediately start making new music. I've been struggling lately with playing. Not that any of the pieces in front of me are difficult, because they're not, but I want to actually create something."

Vinyl appeared to be in her own little world still, but Octavia continued. "I want it to be authentic, awe inspiring. Most pieces I've played in recent memory are bland, or… sophisticated for the sake of being sophisticated. Almost… artificial or without soul. It's grown quite tiresome. I want to create something myself. But I can't seem to do it. It's like I've hit a wall. Or that I've lost my passion or creative spirit," she said, her head lowering before her eyes flicked to the mark on her flank.

She was lost in thought again, beginning to contemplate her next words. Was she just a puppet meant to play other pieces of art? To copy? To imitate?

But imitation is a core part of being; though some used it as a way to escape themselves or be someone they're not. But surely there's something underneath it all, something that can manifest art of her own. Rarity once said true art and beauty can point to the divine, and it can reveal or display a piece of your soul. But sometimes, it doesn't look pretty...

Perhaps it was fear. Fear of what others will see within the piece she creates. The imperfections, maybe even ugliness.

But she realized the problem was deeper than simple fear, as it called to question if there really was more to her; Her very being. Maybe she was all passion and no talent. And the passion is dying…

"I think I'm going to go get some ice cream," she said, finally.

She placed her cello back in its case, and put on her saddlebags before she sauntered to the door. Opening the door, she exited, leaving Vinyl standing at her DJ set examining at Octavia's side of the living room.

Octavia sauntered down the dirt path, the searing heat of the sun already having an effect on her. She could hear distant chirpings and the repetitive but unique melodies of the birds as she walked, but her passive listening transferred into her passing thoughts.

There had to be a reason she couldn't create anything. Was she too busy trying to force it? But from what she understood, creativity was a gift that could be utilized and harnessed. Though some would consider it a curse. And she could definitely see why. Unless maybe she just wasn't creative to begin with, and it was all a delusion, a mirage, or a lie... Some think that's what art is, which to her was preposterous. Music touches the soul and is almost like a universal language.

"Surely I'm not overthinking this," she mumbled.

She reasoned she wasn't, considering it was vitally important and she wanted to solve the problem. Playing music and creating pieces was what gave her purpose and joy. Now, she felt as though she was locked in a cage without the key, hollow, and for the first time in years lost. Was she all deadwood? A husk? Was she in reality soulless?

The thought was jarring, and in response she quickly decided to leave her mind.

She decided to observe her surroundings, and noticed she was in Ponyville, with various ponies going about their day. But her attention was captured when she noticed a few ponies standing in line at a cart. Specifically what appeared to be a dessert cart.

She approached the cart and stood just behind the little filly making a payment. She went to examine her options but she couldn't help but gaze past the shaded goods and to the pony behind them.

The pony was maroon with a rose mohawk mane and with teal eyes and appeared to have a scar over her right eye and cheek. She had weight to her, an aura of that of a disciplined warrior, capable of tremendous harm or wrath, but not desiring such.

"Is that all you'd like today?" The mare asked.

"Yes! Thank you so much!" The filly exclaimed, bouncing in place, holding a sugary sweet. She began to gallop away.

"Remember to have fun when you play alright!" The mare called.

"Okay!" The filly cried from afar.

The mare faced Octavia and smiled gently, "What can I get you today," she said with ease.

Octavia finally examined her options, noticing various pies, cinnamon rolls, and more. She also noticed on the side there were a dozen different types of cupcakes from chocolate, to strawberry, to a wide range of exotic and poppy colors. All of it begged to be eaten and to disregard the created cavities.

"Is there any way I could get one of those vanilla cupcakes?"

"Absolutely," the mare replied, already getting the order ready. "Not feeling adventurous?"

The question was simple enough but she felt like it meant more, and she was compelled to address it. "Not particularly. But today's been interesting to say the least. I suppose it's one of those days."

"Is it a friendship problem?"

"Actually, no," Octavia noted, also to herself. "But why do you ask?"

"I know princess Twilight personally. I'm also a guard for her," she replied, now holding the cupcake.

"Aren't you-" Octavia started, squinting as she attempted to find the name she vaguely remembered.

"Tempest," she answered with a calm smile, placing the cupcake in front of her.

"Hm. Well, it's nice finally meeting you then," Octavia said, extending a few bits forward.

Tempest took them. "Sometimes the thing you need most will be where you least expect or want to look. But I hope you have a better night."

The words were delicately absorbed, but the obligation presented in the form of a cupcake asked for immediate fulfillment, steering her away from thinking too deeply. She grabbed it, giving a thankful and departing smile as she turned away.

Sauntering back where she came, she instantly began mulling over the statement. She supposed the first part was true as it did occur every so often, but she was more interested in the second half. Is there a place she didn't want to look? Perhaps darker thoughts?

She knew some ponies who were gloomy and dreadfully depressed and it fed and fueled their creativity. She wasn't exactly like this herself. What inspired her usually were graceful things or things of beauty that shone bright. Though, interestingly, a lot of those other ponies hate what they create. She did like things of utmost quality and of high standard... Was the standard too high for herself?

But she could play practically anything! So what was holding her back!? Judgement? Fear? Lack of creative vision?

She sighed.

Perhaps she truly had nothing left to play or 'say'... after all, the pieces she liked most already conveyed things she felt deeply.

Examining the cupcake, she noticed it was indeed of quality, with the mountain of frosting spiraling up into a point. But it was to be expected if it was from Sugar Cube Corner.

Taking a bite, a pleasant floral and light caramel coated her taste buds giving a gentle tone that did little to quell the underlying festering turmoil.

On second thought, she was going to pass getting ice cream.

Ambling up the path, Octavia could hear loud thumps and basslines of muffled music emanating from the house.

The door to the house opened before Octavia entered, allowing the music to blast, blare, and assault her ears. She noticed Vinyl was still standing behind her DJ set, but she also noticed there was a mic set up in her living room. Vinyl stopped her nodding with the beat and flicked a switch, causing the music to stop, before she gave a wave as if to get her attention.

Closing the door, she raised a brow in response. "What's this?"

In response Vinyl used a hoof to point to her side of the room before patting her DJ set.

"You want to make a song with me?" Octavia inquired.

Vinyl nodded.

A potent strand of skepticism and even pessimism filled her. Aside from the rare piece every now and then, she wasn't exactly fond of Vinyl's music. The harsh sounds made her ears hurt, it was loud, obnoxious, had an element of crudeness, and sometimes was too chaotic. And to her, most of the music was plagued by being timely instead of timeless.

She believed there was objectivity to art, though once you got deep enough it was bathed or wreathed in subjectivity. And while she believed Vinyl's music did have its place, objectivity aside, she subjectively wasn't a fan of said music, so having Vinyl take a piece she hypothetically made and... inject her style into it to her spelled failure.

To be fair, they had done it before, and it actually sort of worked. But even so, it wasn't anything incredible. And she was pretty sure Vinyl was more reserved in her approach on that piece. She could already imagine the jarring juxtaposition occurring and it immediately becoming a mess with no blend between the two dimensions of sound.

Memories of what Octavia heard earlier entered her mind. She sighed. "I suppose it wouldn't hurt to try. Hopefully," she muttered.

Hanging up her saddlebags, she sauntered to her side of the room, taking her cello out of its case. Getting into proper position, she noticed Vinyl had taken a seat at her grand piano but was facing toward her watching her. She raised a brow. "Are you not going to be providing a beat or tempo?"

Vinyl shook her head. She pointed a hoof to her then the mic before pointing back to her DJ set.

"You want me to create my part first?"

Smiling, Vinyl nodded.

She moved her cello so that the mic was close enough to pick up her playing. "Alright then," she sighed, finally in the proper position.

She closed her eyes, and began to concentrate. Time ticked by, and her hooves remained motionless. She willed herself to play something, a single note so she could at least go somewhere, but she couldn't.

Opening her eyes, she saw Vinyl staring at her with a neutral frown. "I can't seem to play anything," she admitted.

Trying to help, Vinyl used her forelegs to make an explosive gesture above her head.

"My mind?"

Vinyl used her hoof to do a flimsy motion as if to say 'kinda' before repeating the previous motion.

The gears in Octavia's head turned as she attempted to decipher what she meant.

"Imagination?"

Vinyl nodded.

"Nothing has really been coming from there," Octavia noted, trying to think of the last time she used it. Or she supposed when it used her...

Vinyl pointed to her then her own chest, before placing hooves over it as if trying to hold her heart.

"Feelings?"

Vinyl nodded.

What was she feeling? Well, mostly lost. But at the same time, she felt like an apathetic shell. She supposed it made sense for emotion to be the key to the box of the imagination. But the emotion didn't inspire anything. She figured she could just play as if she was practicing.

She glanced at the cello before moving her left hoof along the neck to a common place where most pieces start. The bow slid back along the strings, creating the first note. She then moved her left hoof again, transitioning to a common progression. This continued for a bit until Octavia gave a sidelong glance at Vinyl who had a slanted frown on her muzzle.

The cello's melody abruptly ceased before Octavia sighed.

Vinyl lifted her forelegs up before lowering them down slowly over her.

Octavia immediately knew what she was trying to convey. She was saying for her to let it flow through her. She was just playing what she'd practiced, following generic chord progressions.

A lot of the best pieces ever written just 'happen' according to the artist's. Without much effort or thought they play what comes to them. But Octavia wasn't so lucky.

"I'm trying," she replied. "But it seems nothing is coming forth."

Her attention was drawn to the feeling of the mugginess and the heat from the sun. It was distracting and clouded her mind. "I'm actually going to go take a shower," she said, putting her cello back in its case in resignation.

With a blank visage, Vinyl watched her saunter away.

In the bathroom, Octavia turned a mirror coated handle, eliciting a hissing sound before a burst of white noise as the shower head began to spray water into the porcelain tub. She tossed a folded towel over the curtain rod before lifting a hind leg, then a foreleg, gingerly stepping inside before sliding the curtain across in a swift motion.

The warm water instantly sprayed over her haunches, obstructing its previous rhythmic tapping, traveling down her tail and over her treble clef Cutie Mark. She eased further back, allowing more of her body to get drenched. Accustomed to the water, she then pivoted toward it, the stream now directly hitting her blackish mane as the water traveled down her closed eyes, along her muzzle, and neck.

The water did wonders cleansing her body, washing away any sweat or grime in her coat or mane. But the tranquility of the sensations were quietly interrupted by her mind, making the spray of the water enter the background.

She wanted to continue to ponder her dilemma but she didn't know what path she had left to take. Every one she traveled down was a dead end. It seemed it was beyond her understanding. It actually frustrated her, and she could feel the seed of bitterness, and she wasn't even really an angry type of pony. She got frustrated or annoyed, yes, but never really 'angry'. But what filled her more was a growing sense of despair.

Maybe she was already there. Wilting, while at the pleasant plateau of life. With nothing left to play and at the end. Then why did she feel a growing emptiness?

Octavia continued to rack her brain, attempting to find something or anything as a spark to play, to revitalize her spirit.

With nothing coming forth, she closed her eyes.

A deep sense of helplessness coursed through her, like she was sinking into her demise. In a lake of ice.

Her perception faded into earthly sensations when she noticed the shower had grown cold. She turned the lever, causing the water to cease, before grabbing a towel and beginning to dry herself off.

She pulled the curtain back, stepping on the mat while still relatively damp, but once she had figured she was dry enough, and with a bit of combing, she left the bathroom and sauntered down the hallway toward the living room.

In the living room, she noticed Vinyl was nowhere to be seen, but the microphone stand was still set up. She sauntered to the couch taking a seat, letting her head fall back, and letting loose another sigh.

Her eyes scanned the room but they couldn't help but glance at the brown cello case over and over. An urge overcame her.

Sliding off the couch, she took a few steps before sitting in front of the case, staring at its molded shape that concealed but alluded to the valuable item. Her hooves gingerly reached out and undid each of the metal clips, the case opening and revealing the cherished item of integral meaning.

She took the oak cello out of its case, as if it were made of glass, memories entering her mind as she examined its strings, fine tuners, and pegs. Grasping the bow in her frog, she stared at it, savoring the beauty.

Standing, she brought the cello into position, touching the bow to its silver strings. She closed her eyes…

The bow was pulled back, a powerfully tragic and prolonged chord resounded. Her hoof grasping the neck slid up, making the next prolonged chord lower and more impactful, but emphasizing the previous chord and feeling of loss. She repeated the two simple chords for a while, then at the end of the second chord, she played a few rapid notes that descended even lower than the previous, almost as if displaying or echoing a dwindling fall, or eerie emptiness, before returning back to the first strong chords of loss.

It evoked the feeling of tragedy, like a lost child was calling out, looking for their mother while in the wilderness.

The measure repeated for a bit, before the piece shifted, the image of a frozen lake with a hole entering her mind. From her body, a silver line of light traveled forth and entered the darkened water, urging her to follow. But the dark water and ice surrounding it foreshadowed a potentially disastrous fate.

But the fear of the severance of the umbilical was greater.

Inhaling deeply, she dove in, the icy water eliciting a deathly chill down her spine that spread throughout her body. She begrudgingly looked into the abyss, the fear racking her body and mind, but she directed her attention to the line traveling down into it, and swam after it.

The further she descended, she realized the dark was groping her, and it felt like it was staining her and she was being plagued. Then, there was a feeling as if there was multiple presences swimming in its midst, lurking and circling like sharks attracted to blood.

She ceased playing, fully transfixed, enthralled by the imagery.

Delving deeper, she noticed a glow getting closer, but she felt the pressure laced with pain surrounding her body growing greater. She swam faster in an effort to retrieve the one thing she desired, the one thing she wanted most, the one thing to make her whole again, hoping it wasn't a trap or lie as the darkness threatened to consume her.

The glow grew brighter until she saw it, a ghostly form of a pony emanating silver brightly.

She resumed playing, a melody of tension-filled finality sounding as she reached down.

Her hoof touched the energy. The energy flowed through her hoof and into her body, causing her to radiate a bright glow, repelling the darkness as the residual dark energy on her body was absorbed with burns of pain.

The immediate surrounding darkness was tranformed into a light- an almost vibrant nebulous energy that dulled further away from the radius.

She shot up, forced through the heavy dark water toward the rapidly approaching surface and bright hole of light. She burst forth with a splash, followed by a deep inhale. She floated in the air as she shined, a feeling of vitality coursing through, slowly descending and melting the ice as the melody of triumph and holy union played.

Unbeknownst to her, Octavia's Cutie Mark shined as she played her cello in tandem with the spirit. Chords poured from her as she effortlessly strung together a beautiful solo that danced and climbed to heaven. Then a sounding conclusion as if the answer had been found; completing the solace within catharsis.

Opening her eyes, they began to water. She looked down to her Cutie Mark. She couldn't help but laugh.

Her eyes flicked toward movement in her peripherals. Vinyl stood with a big smile on her muzzle, with her horn alight, levitating the microphone stand beside her.

"Did you record that?" Octavia asked.

Vinyl gave a slow nod with a grin.

"Oh, dear."

The front door opening, Octavia glanced across the living room, seeing Vinyl still at her DJ set with her headphones on, and a seemingly focused expression with knitted brows slightly obscured by her violet shades.

Octavia entered her side of the living room, putting her cello case on the ground, "You've been here all morning again? Don't you have shows to do?" She asked with a raised brow.

Vinyl's attention seemed unwavered, but she waved Octavia over.

Interest piqued, Octavia obliged. Beside her, she examined the DJ set and Vinyl, seemingly waiting for whatever she wanted to show her.

Her horn now alight, Vinyl took off her headphones, a rare sight to behold, before she levitated them onto Octavia's head.

"Surely I don't have to wear these. I need my ears not destroyed, thank you. Though I suppose the speakers wouldn't be much better…"

Vinyl magically turned a nob, then hit a button.

Sound filled Octavia's ears and drowned out the surrounding world, as she entered a new one. The tragic chords of her cello played, conjuring previous feelings of being lost and searching. It progressed slightly with eerie descending chords at the end of the simple ones before it looped back, evoking a feeling of tension. But then, there was a rising sound and as it reached its crescendo, it stopped, echoing a descending bassline. There was a suspenseful pause.

What sounded like a low but faint beastly growl echoed. A drum kick bumped in her ears, and the growl returned sounding closer. Another drum kick and the growl was more apparent, but at the end were echoing metallic twinkles or jangles. A kick sounded before ordinal timing, giving off the sound of a heartbeat followed by another beastly growl.

Another pause. The song kicked off with monstrous sounds, like a beast lurking and surrounding her. With various but sparsely placed discordant and alien sounds filling ambiatic gaps. Though it was chaotic, there was an underlying pattern to it that evoked the feeling of intimidation and terror.

The song's intensity grew, her cello entering with the tension rising, and rising, and rising, until it reached its climax and her cello burst forth from the darkness, playing like a moment of awe. She heard herself play a plethora of beautiful chords. Then an underlying growl that complemented and emphasized her melody on key chords.

The song began to rise again very rapidly, before there was a reverse cymbal crash that transitioned into just her cello which began to play a triumphant melody of holy union. It majestically climbed to heaven, before there was a sounding conclusion, as if the answer had been found.

Octavia was overtaken by wonder. Her expectations had been completely subverted and smashed into smithereens. She expected to have a jarring transition, most likely into something upbeat or 'funky' but what she got was very atmospheric, haunting, and terrifying. The two dimensions of sound managed to coalesce into a piece that told a beautiful story.

A smile dawned on Octavia's muzzle. She locked eyes with Vinyl and communicated all she needed to even though she couldn't really see her eyes. But the smile said it all.

Author's Note

To address the elephant in the room, I'm aware that Vinyl is famous as a character for being reckless, tomboyish, and loud, and Nowacking's voice fit her amazingly, but I decided to go with the shows interpretation. Lame I know, but I wanted to try writing a mute character, and in a way, I sort of like it since it has an element of irony but also greater meaning. But I tried to still retain her core traits as a character and I hope I succeeded.

But this story in itself was difficult to write. Probably one of the hardest ones I've done. Tackling creativity and it's complexities from a different angle or perspective. I've been presonally wrestling with it myself- even though I'm not really creative. But I notice I do tend to be more motivated and attracted to darker things. The next story I plan on releasing is probably going to be the darkest... But I hope this wasn't too 'samey' and that you found some enjoyment out of it. Have a nice day or night.