Symphony Sessions

by starcoder

Rating: teen
Tags: Applejack, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Death, Drama, Coloratura, Octavia
Length: 1458

It's all on Octavia to accept the offer of a lifetime: to play alongside Countess Coloratura. And she would, but she hasn't touched her cello in years.

Countess Coloratura was going on tour. And Octavia was personally offered the chance to play alongside her. Really, it's a dream come true; Octavia used to love her music. The only problem is that she hasn't picked up that cello in years.

And she wasn't planning to.

Written for Discombobulated Soul for Jinglemas 2024

'Death' tag for mentions of death and themes of life/death

Title and cover from Cody Fry's Symphony Sessions

Published 2024-12-27 20:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2024-12-27 20:50:01 UTC

No. 1227

"How can you live life just knowing that one day, it could be your last day alive?"

"Excuse me?"

Octavia blinked and stared across the cafe table, towards the freckled mare who wore a concerned, almost skeptical look. And rightfully so, she supposed. Had she really spoken that aloud? "My apologies. I didn't realize..."

"S'alright," Applejack said with a comforting smile, easing her eyebrow back down. "But, uh, you okay?"

Octavia felt the heat rush to her face. "Of course." She was fine, really. She hadn't meant to say that aloud—that loud, stupid, intrusive thought that had been looping around her mind ever since she'd recieved the letter.

Speaking of which...

Her gaze dropped to the crisp envelope clutched tightly in her hooves. Not wanting to make Applejack wait any longer, she shakily removed the letter from its case and slowly pushed it back towards the mare, whose expression remained unfazed as she watched Octavia and waited for her to make a move.

"I'm truly sorry," Octavia said, pushing herself away from the table, "but I can't."

Applejack, to her credit, didn't widen her eyes or gasp or anything dramatic. She just nodded, although very obviously hesitantly. "Would you mind explainin' why?"

"I just... don't think I'd be good?"

"Are you askin' me?"

"No."

"Sure sounds that way."

"No."

"Yeah?"

"No."

"Hey, I honestly think you're really good."

"Thank you, but— you've heard me play before?"

Applejack put on a sly grin, the one that meant she was a step ahead. Which was already obvious enough. "Yeah. The gig for Rarity's boutique, remember?"

How could she not?

"Oh, yes, of course. Right. Ah."

A frown spread out over both their faces, Applejack's forming after seeing the way she reacted. "Why?" she asked. "Is everythin' alright?"

No, because... "That was my last. My last gig."

"You ever play just for fun?"

"No. My last time with the cello."

"Ah."

A silence engulfed the two, and Octavia used that as a chance to take a sip of her tea, which had been sitting for too long to be warm anymore. Applejack was very clearly curious, and was getting more impatient by the second.

Octavia liked it that way.

The moment her teacup touched the table, the farmpony asked, "You sure you don't want to pick up the cello again?"

"Yes. I'm sure. I'm not ready to play again."

Though she was obviously upset, Applejack tried to hide it behind her manners. "Alright, if you really don't wanna, I can't force you. But, y'know, sometimes it ain't about bein' ready to do somethin'. It's about bein' ready to admit that you're simply holdin' yourself back."

And then she got up and left Octavia alone with her thoughts again.

The studio was nothing like Applejack had said it would be, other than the pretty and wooden part. There was no comfort in this place, especially considering the whole cello thing...

"Oh my gosh, are you Octavia?"

She turned around to find who had been calling her name, though it couldn't be anyone else in this situation. Looking eagerly at her was a beautiful light-skinned mare with perfect purple locks and streaks flowing smoothly through them. Her face was innocent and pure and makeup-less, which Octavia honestly preferred over her concert look. Her voice and expression were so inviting, and her presence alone shined.

Almost as brightly as her cutie mark on the stage.

"It's an honor to meet you," Countess Coloratura said.

Octavia, despite her reluctance about this whole thing, smiled uncontrollably. "No. It's an honor to meet you."

Coloratura smiled back even bigger. But she was quicker than Octavia, and simply cut to the chase. "Let's get to the point, alright? Applejack's already told me the basics, but I'd like to hear it from you personally."

And although she didn't specify, Octavia knew exactly what she meant. She wasn't stupid, just stupidly afraid. "Coloratura, I-"

"Rara," the singer corrected.

"Right. Rara, I'm so grateful. For the opportunity. For everything. But I can't. I've moved on from the cello. From music in general."

"I see."

The silence was loud.

Luckily, Rara was great at reading the room and fixing things. "Follow me," she told Octavia, leading them out of the room and into... another dark and wooden room. It was probably a storage room, judging by the considerable amount of whatever it was covered by tarps and spider webs. It looked like one of those generic dusty rooms in horror movies that bore the obvious rule that only an idiot could ignore: don't come in.

Well, Octavia was an idiot.

She followed Rara blindly, further into the room until they reached a tall, looming object. Also covered in a tarp.

The drama isn't needed. Even Octavia, in all her stupidity, could tell what it was.

Rara pulled the tarp off.

A cello! Wow! Despite how obvious this all was, Octavia still wasn't a fan of facing the music. Just seeing the thing made her blood boil with an unspoken anger—mostly at herself, because why was she even angry in the first place? The cello, obviously, was a beautiful thing. Admittedly better than her original instrument, not just in quality, but because this one wasn't it. It didn't carry the painful memories her old one did.

It was a fresh start.

But she wasn't really ready for that, was she?

"Awestruck, are you?" Rara asked, breaking her out of her trance. And here she thought Rara was much better at reading emotions than her.

"I suppose you could say that," Octavia responded. How else were you supposed to respond to that? No, I'm actually angry. I quit, even though I haven't started.

She wasn't that stupid.

"But I don't want to do this."

"Hmm?" Rara's look of pure innocence was practically guilt tripping her into agreeing. "Stage fright, maybe?"

"No."

"Okay. If you don't want to, it's alright. But couldn't you just play? Once? Here? For me?"

Like she thought. Guilt tripping.

"No. Phyiscally impossible."

"Why?"

And that was the hardest part—maybe harder than actually picking the darn thing up. She didn't want to relive the moment. Even worse, she didn't want to let anyone else know how tightly she was holding on, because she'd made that mistake before.

It's not that deep.

And even though she was sure Rara was a kind soul, there was no way she was going to find a kinder soul than her best friend. Speaking of her best friend...

"Okay. I'll play."

She went for the dusty old thing and pulled it closer. She grabbed the bow that lay by its side and ultimately let the cello rest against her body, the position practically like an awkward hug like carrying a limp body—

Moving on.

With the bow, she played the low C string. Tuned it a bit, and let it ring. Did the same for the G.

And then she reached D. And then once it was perfectly tuned. She stopped.

D was the second string on the cello. Number two. It took two ponies to form a perfect friendship. Ironically, D also stood for Death. Funny how the world works, huh?

D was the string Octavia was tuning when it all went down. When there really was a limp body in her arms, instead of the cello she was supposed to play with in a duet. At the gig, with her best friend in the world.

The cello she was playing with, until the heart attack brought her friend down and she had to set her priorities straight.

"Are you okay?"

And there was no good answer for that, was there? Was she okay yet? Would she ever be? So she gave Rara the context and let her decide for herself: "My best friend died. She died in my arms right before a gig. But the show must go on, right? And it did. It went on as a solo act."

And Rara's next words were actually really thoughtful. "I... I'm here for you. It doesn't have to be a solo this time."

"Okay. Okay." Octavia was okay. Really. She was.

"I'm ready."

Huh. It was practically like Applejack said that day—subtle foreshadowing, right? She might've been ready, but she never would've been if she hadn't let herself admit it first.

Octavia let herself play the D string again. She let it really ring out this time.

D stands for a lot of things. Like Death, yes. But also Done.

Done, like mission accomplished.

She could finally move on.

Author's Note

i hope i can (at least partially) be the reason for Discombobulated Soul's happy holidays.
or sad holidays, because this was meant to be a sad story :)