Octavia took a deep breath as she looked up at her final curtain. It was her final performance. It had been a while coming. She was more or less ready. She would have liked a few more years. But everyone had to retire when they couldn't perform anymore. She didn't have time for those thoughts on this moment, it was about to begin.
She nodded as she heard the call to silence the audience. She paused as Dr. Red Heart was announced. The performance was also a commemoration of her retirement as well. She had one last patient, a close friend she was tending to, so not technically retired, but she would be soon. And with that the curtain rose, and the bright lights shone on her.
She started to play, looking out at the audience. Her heart beating fast as she gave it her all once more. But this final performance was hers, and hers alone. She had given the order, no conductor, no accompaniment. Only her and her life's work, in one final performance for all time.
Octavia moved with a grace honed by decades of practice, each note she played a testament to a lifetime dedicated to her craft. The music swelled, filling the auditorium. Poignant melody floating from her strings. It hovered in the air, that strange feeling, the indescribable bridge between celebration and lament.
As she played, memories flickered across her mind. And she smiled as they came and went, each one flickering for only a moment, but she remembered each in full, glorious memory. Able to enjoy every moment again.
There were moments of triumph, her first standing ovation, the times she’d mastered particularly challenging pieces, and the joy of sharing her love for music with eager students. Her first love, her second, her third, her fourth, her fifth, and final. Each moment of joy exploding in her mind.
There were also moments of doubt and struggle, the obstacles she’d overcome. Her first breakup, second, third, fourth, a sad farewell at a bedside. But the pain, unlike the joy, was not unpleasant. It was a counterpoint to the joy now. A counterpoint to balance the joy, like two different chords forming a harmony.
But there was more than just memory in her final performance. For while all artists were shaped by their experiences they were not just that. They were the spark of creation, something wholly them. It didn't come from the outside, but the inside. The deepest part of their being that whispered of some great song, that they could grasp just a single strand of. Just a tiny piece of that transcendent experience that was true music.
Octavia took one, final deep breath as it came to a crescendo. For some, the crescendo came with fury, and hectic movement. For some with frantic sound, and discord. For Octavia it was simply one, long note, one which now whispered to her of a final rest.
The last notes lingered in the air, a fragile thread of sound that seemed unwilling to break. A long, high note held for a little longer than necessary until it cut off with the abrupt pull of the bow from strings. After a long moment, the entire audience clapped, as one. She smiled, hearing the thunderous applause from her memories. The hundreds, the thousands of ponies she performed for. But now, with her final bow, she played for only one.
Her eyes rose as she did from the bow, locking on her only listener, at her last performance. She smiled, as she picked up her cello, and slung it over her back, stretching. Letting out little sounds of pleasure as her back popped in ways it hasn't in years, as it bore the weight of the cello easily. She walked down the stage to meet her observer.
Octavia paused for a moment, her raised eyebrow answered by a motion up the aisle. Octavia nodded, though she had to say the silence unnerved her a little, she was used to music, song, and she had been hoping for it, looking forward to it, expecting it unless... She sighed a little, she supposed if she had been this unsure about retiring she shouldn't have decided to let her career end. She could have fought for a few more performances. And, she grinned, maybe Red Heart wouldn't have retired so soon either.
But that was it, it was over. Her career had come to its natural end, a few extra years bought by medicine and magic, but her time to move on had come. She paused, and hesitated one last moment at the doors to the lobby. She had been promised that she'd have a party, old friends waited for her after her last hurrah. But the door was shut, she couldn't see through it, there was always the possibility that...
Then, Octavia's ear twitched. She heard it. It was faint and muffled, but she heard it. A song, a music that she'd never heard before, but that her own music, in its finest, most inspired moments echoed a sliver of the music she heard now. She grinned up at her companion as she shoved the door open. And she heard it in full.
The sights were truly the most beautiful she had ever seen. But that wasn't where her heart went. It led to the music. That distant echo at the heart of the purest music was now hers to hear in full. And not only hear, as she grabbed her cello. She joined in that glorious chorus without missing a note. Weaving her own song into the great orchestra of eternity. The perfect song, that had no missing part, became, somehow, more complete now.
Octavia's guest reached out, and after a moment of enjoying the sights and sounds, closed the doors after Octavia. Before turning around, and going to the coat check of all places. And, with his own, odd sense of humor, picked up his cloak and scythe.
