Unfettered

UNEARTHED

Chapter One

“No, no, no! That's all wrong!”

Sighing quietly, Cenote let the bow fall to the floor with a clatter. He glanced up at his teacher and ran a hoof through his shaggy black mane, knowing that if he interrupted he would only make his scolding worse.

“Your right hoof is pressing far too strongly onto your instrument! Your sound is stifled, muffled, wrong! You are too mechanical in your approach to playing! You need to feel your cello, know it, as if it were an extension of your own body!” The older mare punctuated every sentence with a stomp of her hoof.

“Yeah, but...” The grey-coated colt began, only to be cut off by his teacher once more.

“But nothing! The level of devotion you display is unacceptable, especially for somepony with as rich a musical heritage as yourself, Pure Tone! Now get out! Return for your next session in a week, and you'd better have been practicing!”

Heaving another sigh, Cenote lowered his cello into its case. He spared it a single venomous glare, before closing the case and slinging it across his back with a grunt. He hated it when she called him Pure Note.

“Stupid cello,” he grumbled. “Stupid music. Stupid teacher.”

“Botch another lesson, Tone?”

He spun around, heart leaping to his throat.

“Dang it, Sour, don't sneak up on me like that! And don't call me that! You know I hate that name. It's bad enough that that dusty old mare calls me that. I'm Cenote.”

“I'll stop calling you Pure Note when you stop calling me Sour.”

Sterling Song, or 'Sour Note' as Cenote called him, scowled.

“You're both acting sour,” came a soft voice to Cenote's left. From the alleyway came a white-coated pegasus, the third member of their little group.

“Hey Di! Tell him to knock it off with the Sour Note stuff!”

Di laughed and shook her head, causing her dull blue mane to fall in front of her eyes. Annoyance flashes across her face briefly as she fixes it.

“Maybe if you weren't so terrible at singing, you wouldn't have earned that nickname to begin with. Besides, at least your nickname has meaning. What kind of name is Cenote?” She grinned at the colt in question.

“It just sounds cool, alright? Get off my back!” Cenote huffed aloud, before trotting down the street, his friends trailing close behind him.

“I take it Sterling was right, then? Your lesson didn't go so well?”

Cenote threw his hooves into the air with a disgusted scoff.

“I don't see why I have to keep learning to play the stupid cello! I don't want to! The only reason my dad wants me to keep practicing is because my great grandma was really good at it or something.”

“Sounds like a pretty dumb reason,” Sterling mumbled.

“It is! It's just so... so boring! So dull! There's no excitement in a life like this. Wake up. Eat breakfast. Go to school. Attend lessons. Go home. Eat dinner. Go to bed. Lather, rinse, repeat. It's driving me crazy!”

“I can understand that. I'm just glad I don't have to put up with that old nag of a teacher anymore!” Di chuckled.

“Only because your attempts at singing are even worse than Sour Note's. What was it teach said?”

Sterling Song laughed and adopted a look of faux snobbery.

“'My dear Diomedea, it isn't that you can't sing. I just don't believe Equestria is quite prepared for your particular... talent,'” he intoned solemnly, mimicking the mare's cultured tone almost perfectly.

Cenote and Sterling both dissolved into helpless fits of giggles, while Di scowled and flapped her wings once.

“I get it, alright! So singing isn't my strong point. She didn't have to be so rude about it,” she grumbled.

“Ah, cheer up, Di. It's not all that bad. Like you said, least you don't have to deal with her anymore.”

“I know, I just...” The pegasus trailed off, her wings shifting to cover her flanks.

“I know, Di. I know,” Sterling Song grinned, running a hoof through his friend's mane.

“Just chill out, alright? No sense in trying to force it. It'll appear when it appears. Just like ours will, right?” Cenote nudged Sterling.

“Of course!”

Di gave a weak smile, before nodding.

“Thanks guys... I just... I dunno. I don't want to end up a blank flank for the rest of my life, you know?”

“So why don't you join that group, the what'chacallit...”

“The Cutie Mark Crusaders? That bunch of foals? Ugh, no way. The Manehatten branch is all goodie-goodie and focused on 'helping the community'.” The pegasus pretended to gag herself with a hoof. “I'd rather find my special talent on my own, thanks.”

“Hah! Amen to that.”

Sighing, Cenote slowed to a trudging pace, hanging his head.

“Ah well, anyway... I gotta get home,” he said quietly. “I gotta tell my dad how the lesson went... He gets angry if I don't come straight home afterward.”

Sterling and Di exchanged looks.

“Well... We'll meet you at the usual place, okay?” Di said softly, smiling, before she and Sterling split off in another direction.

“Yeah,” the tan-coated colt replied, his gaze following his two friends, before shifting to linger on the imposing form of the school building behind him. He bit his lip, fighting back the tears threatening to spill from his eyes. He knew his parents paid a lot of good bits for him to attend. It just... wasn't fair.

He didn't want to play music. He didn't care about how good his great grandma was, or his family's 'musical heritage'. He was his own pony. He didn't want the cultured life his parents led, or to spend all of his time cultivating a reputation with the 'elite'.

No, he wanted life! He wanted adventure! He wanted to explore Equestria, experience all that the world had to offer. He wished to visit all of the notable cities, like Canterlot, where the Princesses live, and Ponyville, home of the Elements of Harmony!

With another full, long-suffering sigh, Cenote ran a hoof through his mane.

Keep dreaming, stupid foal, he told himself. Eyes glancing skyward, he cursed under his breath and started galloping. He'd better hurry home. His father was going to be angry enough about his lesson without him adding being late to it.

“Do you think he'll be alright?” Sterling Song glanced over at Diomedea, as the two walked along the quiet streets.

“He'll be fine. It isn't as if this is the first lesson he's screwed up. He'll get chewed out again and he'll mope for a little while, then you'll say something cheesy and stupid but poignant and he'll perk right up. After calling you Sour Note again.”

Sterling scowled at the use of his 'nickname', but soon cracked a smile.

“I suppose you're right.  I shouldn't worry so much. Cenote's a tough colt.”

“Mhm.” Di's reply was quiet. Glancing over, Sterling noticed she was staring off into the sky, eyes unfocused.

“Hey, you okay, Di?” Sterling's hips bumped against his friend's, sending her stumbling off to the other side of the road.

“H-Hey!” The pegasus squawked, indignant. “Um... Yeah. I'm fine.”

“Horseapples. What's the matter?” He smirked.

“It's just... Cenote's not the only one that's gotta worry about getting chewed out tonight,” she mumbled in reply.

“Ah... I take it your remedial flight courses aren't going so well?”

As if his words pulled the cork stopping her frustration, Diomedea gave her wings a single flap, extending them to their full wingspan.

“I mean, just look at these things! They're enormous!” True enough, her wingspan was nearly thrice that of an ordinary pegasus. “With these big useless lumps of feathers, I just can't flap as fast as the instructor wants me to.”

Di sighed, folding her wings against her body.

“So now I get to explain to my dad that not only will I not be attending flight school this summer with my sisters, but my instructor says she can't really do anything for me. I'm just not built for speed!”

“Woah, woah, easy there,” Sterling said quietly, draping a hoof over his distraught friend's shoulders. “Just because you're not as fast as they are doesn't make you any less of a pegasus. It isn't your fault you were born like this.”

Di continued, not heeding Sterling's quiet comforting.

“All my life, my father's gone on and on about how his 'three little fillies were gonna be the first triplets to join the Wonderbolts'. Both of my sisters already have their Cutie Marks, and they're both flight related!” She wailed, stomping a hoof. “At this rate, they'll both be racing in the Best Young Flier's Competition by the time I manage to get into Flight Camp.”

“So what?”

That brought the pegasus up short. She stammered for a moment, eyes meeting Sterling's.

“S... So what? What do you mean, so what?!”

“I mean, so what? So what if they manage to compete? So what if they win, Diomedea? They're not you. You're not them. Despite what your father may want of you, no amount of training or effort will change your body. So... So what?”

Di furrowed her brow, eyeing her companion. Slowly, the corners of her lips lifted, until she was grinning alongside him.

“Hah! So what?”

Giggling, the two continued down the road towards their homes.

Sprinting down the busy streets, Cenote dipped and weaved through the crowds. Even with his usual shortcuts, he'd still be hard pressed to make it home before the clock hit six o'clock. He turned and ducked down an alley, leaping a fence with almost contemptuous ease, despite the weight of the musical instrument on his back.

C'mon, c'mon, c'mon! He chanted mentally, pushing his body. Though he wasn't quite as sturdily built as most of his earth pony brethren, he was still quite strong, and his smaller size lent for much greater agility. He dodged obstacles in the streets and back alleys fluidly, making what should have been a half-hour journey home into a simple ten minute run.

Skidding to a stop before the door to the apartment building that housed his family, the colt paused to catch his breath. Taking a moment to sit, he wiped the sweat from his brow.

“Alright,” he murmured. Standing, he steeled himself. “Let's get this over with.”

He pushed the door open and made his way up the flights of stairs, stopping on the fourth floor. He quietly approached the door to his apartment, gulping down the fear bubbling up from his chest. As gently and slowly as he could, he opened the door and tip-hoofed inside and set his cello on the floor of the living room.

Glancing back and forth, he sighed in relief... only for that sigh to catch in his throat as his father emerged from the restroom.

“There you are,” came his stern, unyielding voice. “Where have you been? You're five minutes late.”

“I'm sorry, father. I stopped to talk to Sterling Song and Diomedea,” Cenote responded automatically.

“I see. We'll talk about that later. How did your lesson go?”

“I, uh. Great! It went great. Yeah. Teach says I'm really picking things up.”

“Pure Tone...” Uh oh. He recognized that dangerous tone of voice.

“She... may have implied that I need to practice more. And that I'm not approaching my lessons with enough devotion. And that I'm a blight on our family's storied past in music. Maybe.”

Cenote knew immediately that he'd made a mistake, as his father's expression became more and more livid. By the end of his admission, the stallion's face was red with barely suppressed rage; Cenote swore if he listened he could have heard steam hissing from his father's ears.

“PURE TONE!” His father bellowed. “Why is it, time after time, teacher after teacher, you refuse to act in a manner appropriate to your heritage?”

He felt his ears flatten against his head; he'd heard this tirade a hundred times before, but each repetition never failed to sting.

“Playing in the orchestra has been a tradition of this family since the time of your great grandmother, who was so skilled with the cello that she was invited to play at THE Grand Galloping Gala! She played for Princess Celestia herself, colt!”

He backed away slowly, as his father's rant picked up steam.

“She was among the finest and most talented musicians of her time! Even now, the name Octavia Philharmonica is uttered with nothing but respect among both musicians and critics! For you to besmirch that name with your complete and total disregard for your lessons is unforgivable!”

The stallion slammed his hoof into the floor, near frothing at the mouth in his anger.

“If you don't show some respect and start applying yourself, colt, then you might as well start looking for an apartment of your own! No son of mine will be a shiftless layabout!”

Cenote had had enough. He couldn't take anymore.

“Maybe I will! Maybe I'll find someplace where I'm not railroaded into doing something I don't give a damn about!”

Eyes brimming, he shoved his way past his father and down the hallway, running to his room and slamming the door. With a sorrowful, deep breath, he collapsed on his bed and did his best to control his tears.

On the edge of his awareness, he heard his father stomp down the hallway and into his own bedroom, the door slamming with nearly as much force as Cenote's had.

He just doesn't get it. The colt lamented, sighing as he rolled onto his back. His eyes sought out the posters on his bedroom walls; Daring Do and Ahuizotl, the Elements of Harmony, Nightmare Moon, Discord. Epic, amazing adventures... like the ones he'd never have if he did as his family commanded and continued learning the cello.

He hated it. Day in and day out, the only thing that mattered to his father was the family name. The history. Their 'heritage'. Cenote scoffed and buried his face in his pillow. No doubt his father's own past played a role in how he perceived things now.

His father had been a failure in his own eyes. Despite lesson after lesson, he had never shown more than a small amount of skill in any musical field. Cenote could sympathize, but it didn't give his father the right to try and live vicariously through his son!

What made it worse was Cenote's lack of Cutie Mark. When Cenote had first started his lessons, his father had watched almost all of the time, as if he expected the Mark to appear the moment Cenote laid hoof on the cello. When it hadn't, his father hadn't said anything, but Cenote could feel the disappointment burning a hole in the back of his head as his father watched him practice.

It isn't as if he was the only one without his Mark! Neither Sterling Song or Diomedea had their Cutie Marks yet, despite their parents' every effort to coax it out of them.

Cenote rolled over and stared at his ceiling.

It wasn't fair. It's not like he had a choice in the matter, did he?

…

...did he?

Throwing himself off of his bed, Cenote took a deep breath and grinned. He did have a choice. His father had delivered it to him not ten minutes ago. If he didn't want to continue his lessons, he could leave.

Cenote paused, looking out his window at the cityscape below.

No more lessons. No more yelling. No expectations or demands.

He would be free.

Filled with excitement over this realization, Cenote grabbed his saddlebags and slung them over his back. Opening his top dresser drawer, he pulled out a pouch that clinked audibly with the sound of coin. Every bit he'd ever earned or been given, all in this one bulging bag. He slid it into a bag and quietly opened his bedroom door.

Stealthily making his way past his father's bedroom door, he entered the kitchen and started to pack some food. Raw vegetables, some fruits. Stuff that wouldn't spoil overnight.  He didn't know where he would go, but he knew it wouldn't be in Manehatten.

Feeling lighter than he had in weeks, the colt snuck out the front door and ran down to the street below. He had a stop to make first. The 'usual place', where Di and Sterling would be waiting for him. He had to tell them, to convince them to come along. The three of them, free from the confines of their families, off on their own... An adventure!

He was finally off, on an adventure!