There are ponies who either hate staying up or can’t do it without crashing. The ones who, once it’s their “bedtime,” flop onto their beds and couches and fall to sleep just like that. Despite how loud their spouse is or how obnoxious their children are, they will sleep for hours on end if they wanted to. The ponies who’ve never experienced the excitement of a nightclub or the peacefulness of an evening stroll through town.
Then there are the night owls. The ones who go to all the clubs, who like to have fun under the moon instead, and enjoy a good drink every now and again. The ones that keep everypony else up with their laughter. Usually, there are more crashers than late nighters, but in a city like Canterlot, it’s much more busy under Luna’s masterpiece.
For example, the jazz and swing club that had recently opened up was bursting with life and music. Sound drifted from the walls, along with the scents of champagne and perfume. On the front was a sign that read “La Voix Intérieure” in shining cursive lettering, while the entrance was a dark green canopy. The rest of the perfect square building was bone-white.
Inside it was just as white, but had chandeliers and ponies of all sizes and colors. The music and conversation was just as colorful, and it was quite the change from the silence and calmness outside the venue.
There were many a table around the wide space, but the table on the far left of the second row was occupied by none other than Octavia, wearing a simple black dress. The cellist was gazing intently at the stage, her violet eyes sparkling with happiness as she listened. In her hoof was a glass of yellowish-ochre champagne, and at her side was a plate of something that hopefully tasted better than it appeared. She hadn’t even tried it yet; she was too much in love with the swing playing up on stage.
In the midst of the chatter and music, Octavia suddenly heard her name called by a familiar, elegant voice. “Octavia, dear!” Ears perked, the gray mare turned her head and saw a tall, ivory unicorn with rosy hair falling at her sides walking over to her table.
“Good evening, Fleur,” Octavia greeted softly to where she could still hear the song. “Where’s Fancy Pants?”
Fleur de Lis sat down across from her, then put her fire-red dress over her crossed legs to be safe. “He’s over at the bar on the other side of the room. I wanted to stay with him, but I saw you and figured this would be much better,” she replied as simply as possible and flashed a quick smile.
Octavia chuckled, then switched her attention back to the stage when the clapping of hooves stormed over the quiet atmosphere. The group Octavia had been entranced with was finished playing, apparently, and the owner of the club stepped on stage to the microphone.
“Those were the Blue Notes, fillies and gentlecolts,” he began after clearing his throat. A short spurt of clopping again, then he continued. “Now, for the next event of the evening, we have a swing quintet, I believe.” He smiled and got off stage to let the other instruments be carried on.
Octavia clapped a bit, then frowned a little as she inspected the few members. Instead of there being five ponies, there were only four, all being colts. They all seemed frustrated, but were trying to put on content faces for the crowd. Octavia wasn’t buying it; she knew anger when she saw it.
She could see five instruments on stage. A saxophone, a clarinet, a trumpet, a set of drums, and a beautiful oak cello with golden accents, sparkling white strings, and a slender neck that reminded her of Celestia’s own neck. It’s amazing, Octavia thought lovingly.
Oh, and so are the other instruments. Yes.
The youngest and strangely handsome colt walked up to the microphone, and Octavia had to force her attention back to him. He had on a black tie that matched the other’s, but his fur was of course different from theirs. He was butter yellow with short brown hair and blue eyes that glinted in the stage lights.
“Um...” he stammered into the mic with a sheepish smile. “Since our cellist cannot make it tonight for some... odd reason, we aren’t able to play tonight.”
Octavia sent a glance to Fleur, who was just as shocked and confused as she was. Ponies around them gasped, while a few grew frustrated as well.
The stallion looked to the club owner, sweat forming on his forehead. “Do you think that the next act could perform at our time instead? So you don’t have to sit in silence for the next fifteen minutes?” The rest of the club was too worked up to laugh at his attempted joke, but Octavia found it somewhat amusing.
La Voix Intérieure’s owner shook his head. “They don’t come here for another half hour! You’re going to have to work something out, because the ponies here are getting angsty.”
Octavia glanced around and, sure enough, ponies were standing up to leave. They wanted something to listen and dance to, and it was hard to sway to the beat of silence. She frowned at them. It wasn’t fair for the band on stage to be blown off like that. I wish I could do something to help, she mused in her head and thought deeply, taking another sip of her liquor.
“Wait! Before you leave!” The swarm of leaving ponies turned and looked at the ringleader of the swing group. “Please, sit back down. I have a plan.” Hesitantly, they all took their seats again and stared at him like deer in headlights.
“Is there a cellist here in the audience?”
Octavia scanned the room of ponies, hoping at least one of them would raise their hoof. She said she would do something to help, but not play swing. Swing, or jazz, was something she never intended to play in her lifetime. She was a classical pony, and that was what she would stick promptly to.
But, to her disappointment, nopony seemed to know how to play the cello. Oh, dear...
Even more disappointing was the fact that Fleur raised her hoof and said politely, “My friend, Ms. Octavia, is an extremely talented cellist. In fact, it’s her special talent. Isn’t that right, darling?” She looked at Octavia, fluttering her false eyelashes like there was nothing wrong with what she did.
Her reaction to this was a stream of champagne spewing out of her lips and onto the untouched h’orderves at her side. “Pardon me!” Octavia quickly said as she turned pink, wiping her mouth and the table with the cloth napkin. “Um, what were we saying?”
“Would you like to play the cello for us, Ms. Octavia?” the colt asked, but it was obviously a plea for help. He gave her his best ladies-man grin.
Octavia would have rejected the offer, but saw the faces of the other ponies in the room. Some were prepared to leave then and there and ruin the quintet’s reputation for a very long time. Others were staring expectantly at her now. She could even see Fancy Pants himself giving her one of his unreadable looks. It was frightening. Not wanting to disappoint either side of the feud, Octavia finally smiled and said, “I guess I’ll give it a try.”
Besides, she really, really wanted to play that beauty of a cello sitting behind everypony else.
She walked slowly across the carpeted flooring, unsure of where her hooves were anymore until she got on stage. The lights were bright and made her sweat even more. She just about tripped on her own dress. But she heard the claps of the other ponies, and that was what mattered at the moment.
The colt gave her three or four pieces of sheet music and put them on her stand as she set up the cello. “You ever played swing music before?” he whispered.
Octavia shook her head, holding the bow in her hoof nervously. Why did Fleur have to be so volunteering that night out of any other night of the week?
“You look like you haven’t,” he responded. “It’s like classical, but with a little more... well, swing to it. Just follow our lead.” He walked over to grab his saxophone without another word to her.
While she waited for them to start, Octavia skimmed over her music. Instead of the drawn-out, quivering, and gentle tones she was used to, there were a ton more notes that bounced about the page and a mixture of both staccatos and slurs sloshed around the page, like a painting. Octavia already felt she wouldn’t like it at all.
The drums started, and Octavia had to jump in last minute when she realized just how fast this song was. Despite it being unnatural for her, though, she concentrated and drew the bow across the strings in tempo perfectly with them.
The song was beginning to sound great, and Octavia was even tapping her hoof along to the beat, but it got even better when the lead colt stopped playing the sax and started singing into the mic.
Apparently, the song was about dancing. Just dancing. Most songs Octavia played or listened to had sad lyrics about heartbreak or death. But this was a cheery little number about doing swing dancing with his girlfriend.
Not only that, but the ponies below we're grabbing their partners and dancing happily with each other. It was like the twisted atmosphere from before had left entirely and a new one had drifted in, one that filled everypony's hearts with joy and laughter.
Octavia loved every minute of it.
When the band was finished, including thr other two songs, Octavia's playing hoof was slightly sore from all the movements, but she didn't seem to care. There was cheering as they left the stage, and the next group prepared to play.
The colt smiled at Octavia, shaking her hoof excitedly. "That was amazing, Octavia!" he chirped. "I see why the cello is your special talent."
"Thank you for letting me play," was all that she could reply with. There were so many emotions that Octavia couldn't seem to pick one. But the most powerful one was the pure happiness she felt.
"We're playing next Monday," he said. "If our cellist decides to be late again, can I count on you to play for us?"
Octavia nodded.
"The name's Charleston, but you can call me Charles. Bye!" Leaving with such an abrupt farewell was strange for Octavia, but she didn't worry much about it as she trotted back to her seat with Fleur.
The unicorn's smile was sultry as always. "That was wonderful, Tavi," she purred with a glass of whiskey levitating at her side.
Octavia smiled back and sat at her chair, then lifted a bite of h'orderves to her mouth and humbly said, "It wasn't that amazing…"
"Oh, really?" Fleur said with a raised brow. "You're so gifted at playing swing and jazz!"
The h'oderve made its way down the wrong pipe, and Octavia coughed a few times to get it out of her system. The sudden shock made her speechless.
I have a... gift in swing and jazz? She couldn't help the thought as it swarmed the entirety of her brain. What have I done?
