//------------------------------// // Octavia Chapter 6: Expert Advice // Story: Never Miss A Beat // by TaleweaverTheUnicorn //------------------------------// “Aaaaall aboard for the Express to Ponyville! Aaaaaall aboard!” The conductor was far too close to Octavia for the volume at which he shouted. She adjusted her bowtie as a subtle sign of her irritation. This was her first day off in more than a week, and this was hardly how she wanted to spend it, particularly after the quantity of wine she had consumed the previous evening. But her sister was getting married, and Octavia just couldn’t bring herself not to attend, despite the fact a wedding was the very last thing she wished to see. She bid Parish farewell, he was remaining to perform with Frederick and the quartet, a fact for which he had apologized profusely yesterday, and again this morning. Octavia did not mind, save perhaps for what it represented. She was honestly unsure what she was going to do when he finally moved out, which seemed a closer prospect by the day. Some part of her had thought -or assumed- that Vinyl would fill that space. No chance of that now.  Octavia’s calls had all gone to voicemail, the same cheery voice saying “Don’t bother with a message, I never check this junk!” She knew it was ancient because it still used the name Ivory. Her texts received similar treatments, unremarked. She cursed herself every day for her pride, her anger, her stubbornness. Her jealousy. She could have run after Vinyl right then, explained herself, and spent these past eight days in joy.  Maybe it wouldn’t have mattered. She thought, gloomily. Vinyl evidently has her pick of mares, and I am no great beauty. Perhaps the result would have been the same. But then she and I might have remained friends, at the least. Octavia let her head drop against the window as the train began to pull away. Her eyes gazed sightlessly at the raindrops on the glass. She didn’t cry. She was not a pony who cried easily, or indeed, almost ever. But the buildup of foul emotions over this week made her wish she could. Any outlet for these feelings would have been welcome.  But there was none. She sat in miserable silence, watching the rainy gray landscape pass by. She barely moved. She hated how she felt. And she hated that she had become the very type of pony she could not stand. She had never been able to stomach ponies who were so melodramatic about their relationships, for good or ill. And now here she sat. Several hours, or perhaps several weeks, passed. The train screeched as it pulled to a stop at the Ponyville station. Octavia stood by rote, hefting her instrument, strapping it onto her saddle. She departed, walking out into the gray haze.  The scent of nature and earth filled her nostrils. She breathed deep, relishing it. Ponyville was larger now, than when she had been a filly, but it evidently retained the rural charm. “There she is! Octyyyy!” Octavia was struck by an avalanche of slate-colored fur and the spikes of a short cropped mane. Octavia, to her surprise, wobbled, and slowly toppled, landing in a pile of barely contained luggage, with the filly atop her, nuzzling. “It’s been for-ev-er!” Rockroot beamed up at her older sister. “Y’all been slacking off, haven’t you? I didn’t expect ya to fall right over!” “I have had few occasions to actively increase my strength, it is true” Octavia smiled the faintest of smiles. “But dare you forget, you were but a rowdy youth when I left. And behold, what is before me but a marvelous full grown mare?” “Listen to her, she even talks fancy now.” A softer voice, from above the pair. Octavia jumped to her hooves, looking straight at the pony. A scruffy, off-black coat over lean old bones, face well wrinkled around a smile. “Mother.” Octavia said, wrapping her in a fierce hug, which was returned with every bit of power she remembered. Age had done nothing to Winter Root’s strength, which had always been more than enough to split frozen dirt and rock with the ease of cracking a walnut between her teeth. “I-”  “Shh. Y'all're tryin’ to apologize, I can tell.” Mother murmured, a hoof stroking Octavia’s mane. “An’ I don’t want to hear none of it. We’ve been followin’ you in the papers, even on the tv. You make your old mum proud, Octy.” “I have missed you.” Octavia whispered. Tears threatened, but retreated once again, to her dismay. She settled for a deep sniffle. “All of you.” “Blossom is still workin’ on getting everything ready, or she’d be here too.” Rocky said with a chuckle. “Y’know how she is, everything's got to be just so. She sends her love an’ I know she’s excited as all get out.” “She had best be, considering this is her wedding.” Octavia let out a genuine belt of laughter. “If our darling sister was not eager, I would question the wisdom of the festivities!”  “C’mon now, let's get you down to the farm, settled in.” Winter hupped Octavia’s cello onto her back with practiced ease. “Your old room’s right where ya left it, dusted it out this morn’.” “Oh you need not have-” “No daughter o’ mine is stayin’ in some overpriced tourist trap thats suckering poor pilgrims come to visit Princess Twilight.” Winter alternated shaking a grumpy hoof and performing a quick Sun-Moon mantra motion. It wasn’t the correct salute for the Terrestrial Princess, and Princess worship itself was rather outdated, but the familiar gesture made Octavia smile all the same. “Oh, did you hear? Octy did you hear?!” Rocky bounced along next to her, Octavia’s saddlebags somehow having made their way onto her withers. “The princess! The Crystal Princess! I guess she’s our new sister-in-law’s cousin’s best friend’s sister! She’s gonna run the whole shindig!” She sighed dreamily.  “She. . . what?” Octavia blinked at that flood of information. Rocky repeated it, perfectly verbatim. Their new sister in law would be Cinnamon Cider. Cinnamon’s cousin. . . the Apple girl? The Apple girl’s best friend’s sister was a princess? “. . .That’s auspicious. This Cinnamon must really love Blossom then.” “Didn’t need a Princess to tell us that.” Winter Root chuckled, “Was obvious jus’ watching her.  She’s head over tail, real sweet too. Was a real help with the work this winter. You’d like her, Octy.” “I have no doubt.” Octavia’s head swiveled as they trotted through town. Everything seemed bigger and better than it had been. “It seems as though there has been a large amount of construction.” “Ayup, lot of that. Ponyville’s the center of Equestria right now.” Rocky said cheerfully and incorrectly, though Octavia could understand the feeling. “I was thinking,” Octavia said this quickly. “And only thinking, mind you. . . That I might move back into town.” “What???” They said in unison. Rocky was excited. Mother was, more insightfully, worried. You could never pull one over on Winter Root. “Parish is likely to move in with his coltfriend in the near future.” Octavia said, pausing for a moment to admire the new City Hall. “That will leave me to pay for my current apartment in full. . . and in truth, Canterlot has lost much of it’s glamor in my eyes. I am not certain it is worth the increased spend.” “If’n you’re mentioning it, it means you thought it through better than I have.” Mother said, after a long moment. “Always the overthinker, you are. Long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” “I will be pursuing the same dreams I always have.” Octavia reassured, even if in truth, music itself had soured for her somewhat. “Naught else will change. . . I will likely be traveling a large amount, but I think this will be comforting to me.” “Whoopie!!!” Rocky cheered, bouncing higher and higher. “We’re gonna be throwing a second party then, right after the wedding! I’ll get Pinkie on the horn!”  “Please do not.” Octavia said, already tired by the mere thought. “It will not be official for some time yet, in any event.” “Ayup, bit early for that, can’t blame the girl for bein’ excited though.” Winter gently chastised them both.  Octavia opened her mouth to respond, and allowed it to silently fall open instead as they crested the last hill separating the Root family farm from the Town. Not only was it far more expansive than it had been, it was lavishly decorated, in colors of the two bride’s coats. Blossom’s dark maroon, and what must be cinnamon’s warm orange. It gave the celebration an autumnal hue, which was worked into the theming, all about the harvests and fruits of love. Roll upon roll of fabric had been draped from trees and fences and phone lines, snow had been swept up into neat piles or pressed into ice and carved. Cornucopia of delicious-looking, magically frozen fruit sat every three seats along great long tables, around which the families would sit, one per side. Old Earth pony tradition. Why sit around an empty room for a ceremony when you could have it around a full table? “It is beautiful.” Octavia said simply.  “Rocky, go get your sister's things up to her room.” Winter carefully slid Octavia’s cello case off her shoulders and onto Rocky’s. Winter waited until she had bounced off down the path to the farmhouse before turning to Octavia. “Now what’s the matter, string bean?” She said, quietly. “You got a face like you’ve been suckin’ lemons or choppin’ onions.” The ancient nickname brought the ghost of a grin to her face, rapidly banished by the specter of actually answering the question. “My apologies.” She said, stiffly, unshed tears taunting her again. “This is a happy day. I do not mean to-” She choked off, looking away. Her mother wrapped a hoof around her withers, tugging her into a hug. “The- The friend I mentioned? She won’t be coming, after all.” “I know what ya need.” She said, tugging Octavia towards the house as inexorably as the earth tugged her towards its center. She plowed right on through the half open door, passing through the foyer, nearly unchanged since Octavia’s youth, only new photographs on the rickety old shelves and peeling walls showing the passage of time. On into the living room, tucked away in the back. This too was quite similar, the ancient couches had been covered over with new blankets, and there were new wheat-print curtains on the sunroom windows that overlooked the Ponyville tributary. There was a new TV, as well, clearly Rocky’s purchase. Seated primly on the couch across from it with a large paperback book was a dazzling pink alicorn, who could, in a completely literal sense, only be one pony. She was, for lack of a better term, absolutely stunning. Octavia found her eyes tracing the slender legs, the well shaped wings and- For goodness sake, Octavia! Just because you have ‘figured yourself out’ does not mean you should be ogling every mare you see! “Princess, we got us a problem here!” Winter said amicably, nudging Octavia forward, which thankfully shocked her from her staring. At least momentarily. “One gloomy sister of the bride with what seems like a broken heart ta me.” “Oh dear, sounds serious!” Her Sidereal Highness did not stand, instead she set aside her book and patted the couch next to her, flashing a charming smile, with eyes that invited and penetrated. Octavia’s eyes widened another fraction past what she thought was their maximum, to say nothing of the furnaces in her cheeks.  “Um” She said, eloquently. “Octavia Melody, yes? I watched your performance some months ago with Princess Luna. You were breathtaking.” Princess Cadance patted the couch more insistently. “I did not know you were related to the bride! Though I do see the resemblance now, of course. You have your mothers muzzle, and very nice eyes. Please, sit down?” Octavia sat.  “Before you feel too guilty, know it is part of my magic.” Cadance said, kindly, turning demurely behind her mane under Octavia’s unrestrained gaze. If it was intended to diminish her attraction, it failed spectacularly. “Ponies who are in love -with anypony- naturally feel some of that towards me, in the same way Princess Celestia heats a room and nurtures growth, or Princess Luna soothes a nightmare and a worried mind. So please don’t feel guilty, okay?” Octavia nodded, precisely at the lowest point of her confidence in her ability to speak. “Now, if I may?” Waiting for Octavia’s second nod, the Princess ignited her horn, and immediately burst into tears. Octavia’s confusion redoubled, and panic edged in. What had she done now? She was afraid to lay a hoof upon the perfect creature, and afraid to do nothing. She settled for frantically waving her hooves in Cadance's general direction, as if fanning her, or just encasing her in an invisible sphere.  “Wh- Pri- I am so sorry!” Octavia spluttered. “Did I do something wrong?” “No!” Cadance sobbed, seizing Octavia in a hug, which effectively paralyzed her, sending her spiraling into a haze of soft fur and appealing scent and oh sweet Celestia. “I cry only because you will not, Octavia! Oh, the hurt within you could crush another pony. You are so strong. . . and you have been so, so alone!”  It took Cadance several minutes of hugging and sobbing before she regained control of herself. She carefully wiped her eyes, which had not smudged one whit, blew her nose, and took several deep breaths, with an accompaniment of hoof movements, in and out. Octavia watched this patiently. She could not explain it, but she did feel marginally better. Perhaps the Princess truly could cry-by-proxy. “You are a pony of great passions, Octavia.” Cadance said, softly. “It is inspiring, how you put your whole heart into every little thing. Your music, your family. . . How cruel that you had to choose between them!” “It was my choice, and I could have done more to balance both. . .” Octavia trailed off. Could she have? “Perhaps, but it tears at your heart.” Cadance rested a hoof on one of hers. “And on top of that, your best friend Parish, whom you love so dearly, despite the fact he is unable to return your affection!” “I do not wish for his affection in that manner!” “And yet, he is still leaving you.” Cadance murmured. “You do not begrudge your friend his happiness, but you will miss him fiercely, will you not? Love for a lifelong friend is no less powerful than a romance.” “I-” Octavia could not come up with an objection. She was going to miss Parish. More than she had ever admitted to herself. Small wonder she had been so short with him of late. She made a mental vow to make it up to him. “Not to mention. . .” Cadance continued, her eyes shimmering with new tears as they gazed into Octavia’s. “Your latest passion. Just an ember, right now. With equal potential to blaze fully to life or be snuffed to ashes. And what a tragedy it would be to see it snuffed!” “It is already snuffed,” Octavia said, bitterly. “I let jealousy get the best of me, and now I pay the price.” “It is no more snuffed than a hooded lantern.” Cadance seized Octavia’s hoof. “Hiding something behind steel does not cause it to stop existing. You are careful, so careful, never to show your passions, though they burn as bright as the sun. What frightens you so?” Octavia thought for a long moment. She considered her life, in its entirety. She had been so excited when she had been accepted into the conservatory in Canterlot. She had wanted to work with others who were as passionate as her, those who were talented and driven. And for a while, it was wonderful. Alas, the world catches up to everypony, and passion alone does not build a career. “I am unsure if afraid is the right word.” Octavia said, finally. She kneaded a bit of knitted blanket between her hooves. “I merely put it into my work, rather than expressing it myself. I found that ponies found much to say against my background or attitude, but they could say little against my music.” “And for your non-musical passions. . .?” “They inspired songs.” Octavia shrugged. “Each of my family members has several. Parish has three. And Vinyl-” Her breath caught in her throat. Vinyl. Cadance gave her another hug, and an encouraging smile. “Vinyl has one. It is not finished.” Octavia continued, her voice small. “Maybe two, if you count the one we were working on together. It was- It was wonderful. We connected. But my words could not reach her, and my passions ruined it. Now I cannot even bring myself to weep.” Octavia felt the tears again, and willed herself to cry, to let it out. She could not. She had crafted her mask too well, and now it would not leave her face. Cadance gave her a knowing glance. “Perhaps. . .” She said, slowly. “Tears are a way of shedding one's emotions. Pardon the metaphor, but it’s like throwing up for the soul. If your emotions will not come out that way, maybe you need to express them your way.” “With music?” “Exactly!” Cadance smiled, benign and loving. “And I do not mean just your sadness. There are as many languages of love as there are ponies in Equestria. For many, it is words. Some it is touch, or visual mediums. For you, and I suspect Vinyl as well, there is another. Finish that song. I think you might have better luck.” Octavia felt a weight lifting from her. A slight bloom of hope cracked the hardened surface of her emotional lava. Lava which, as every Earth pony knows, makes the most fertile soil. She would finish the song. Whether it reached Vinyl or not, it would give her closure on the matter. And one way or another she would continue, head held high. “Thank you, Princess.” She said, her voice was strong once again. Clear and crisp. She looked up into Cadance's eyes and nodded. “You are very wise.” “Oh, just lessons learned from experience.” She chuckled, hooking her forehooves around each of Octavia’s. “You may not believe it, but I had a rather tumultuous courtship of my own! But there is no doubt it was worth every bump and scrape along the way.” “You are correct. I do not believe it.” Octavia laughed in return, allowing the Princess to tug her to her hooves. She almost stumbled, overwhelmed by a bone-deep tiredness long buried under her sorrow. Cadance caught her, causing another round of furious embarrassment to rush through her. “Whoa! Close one.” She winked, Octavia wobbled further. “Come on, let us go greet the brides to be. And then get you back in here for a nap. Emotional burdens can be almost as exhausting as physical ones.”  Octavia made her way back out of the house. She hugged her mother once more, and was hugged in return. She was almost dazzled again by the decorations, everything seemed that much brighter now. She stepped around a small gaggle of giggling fillies, perhaps some cousins here to be flower girls. Cutting through the open-air kitchen, which was ready and waiting to cook up the feast for tomorrow. There, in the midst of the chaos, was her sister, Winter Blossom. The festivities bloomed out from her like her namesake petals. Flanking her on each side was a powerful mare. One was tall, speckled red over brown, with a foaming mug as a cutie mark. The other was a familiar bright orange, trio of apples on the rump. The two flanking mares hopped at each point of Blossoms hoof, moving or removing things. Ponies of all sorts parted around them as Blossom added a personal touch to each and every aspect. A frazzled looking pegasus was practicing styling her mane as she moved, hovering over Blossom like a raincloud. Blossom glanced at Octavia and Cadance as they approached, and did a furious double take, to the pegasus’ dismay. “Octavia.” She said, warmly. “I’m so glad ya’ll could make it. Means a lot to me. To us.” She threw a hoof over the shoulders of the mare next to her, who doffed a five gallon hat. Applejack did likewise, minus the grin. “Blossom. Of course I came.” Octavia stepped forward into an embrace, surprised, but not displeased, when Cinnamon joined it as well. She truly had been away from home for a long time if she was unused to hugs. “Nothing could keep me away. You look. . . radiant.” “She’ll be lookin’ more radiant in her dress tomorrow, m’sure. Wish I knew how much.” Cinnamon said with a grin.  “You know it’ll be bad luck to see the bride before the weddin’.” Blossom said, teasingly. “Well shucks, nopony told me.” Cinnamon sniffed in mock frustration. “Woulda kept my outfit secret too.” The five ponies laughed. Octavia included. Half an hour ago, this would have hurt her. Now it merely complimented the glow in her own heart. She gave them both another squeeze.  “I been lookin’ forward to meeting you. AJ here-” ‘AJ’ made a hoof motion across her neck quickly, which Cinnamon ignored. “AJ told me about you. Guess her new marefriend thinks the world of ya.”  “Oh, Octy, you know Rare?” Blossom beamed. “I reckon that makes sense, since ya’ll are both fancy types.She’s making my dress, you know.”  “So you and Miss Rarity have made it work, then?” Octavia marveled a little at that. “The last time I saw them together Miss Rarity had. . . well, she had coerced me into espionage upon her future marefriend here.” “What?!” All three of the others rounded on her. Eyes wide, ears perked up at the promise of gossip. Cadance’s face in particular, both eager and somewhat ashamed of it, make Octavia burst into giggles. Cinnamon was practically bouncing, Applejack just silently tugged her hat down over her face. “I admit, it was partially my fault.” Octavia allowed a shameless grin to live rent free on her muzzle. “Miss Rarity was teasing me about my own crush, and I wanted to get her back, which perhaps worked too well, since we ended up in the bushes outside of Applejacks motel room. . .” “Say what now?” Cinnamon leaned on Blossom as she wheezed. Cadance was trying and failing to hide a furious chuckle behind a hoof. Applejack was now staring up at the sky, as if beseeching Celestia for aid. “I speak only truths. But I cannot say I regret it, since had I not been in those bushes, I likely would not have fallen in love myself.” Octavia pressed a hoof to her thumping heart. Saying it out loud was like releasing a long captive bird from its cage. “Surely you remember her, Applejack, the drunken filly you took back to your room?” “What?!”  Blossom demanded, her ears, mane, and tail defying gravity to stand straight up. There was an audible groan from her hairdresser. “T’weren’t like that, so you can all stuff your eyes back in yer heads.” Applejack had a rosy blush on her freckled cheeks. “Filly just needed a kind ear and someplace to bunk after gettin’ chewed out by a certain somepony.” “I was rather angry with her that evening.” Octavia admitted. “I take partial culpability for her state. But again, had I not. . . perhaps we would not have had the heart to heart discussion the next morning which was the seed of our friendship.” “I reckon Rare and I weren’t much different at first. Always fightin’ like a viper and a mongoose.” Applejack smiled, eyes wistful. “You had best be careful though, she’s a flighty one. Too used to people cagin’ her. Try and tell ‘er how to be and she’ll run for the hills faster than you can blink.” “I- What?” Octavia blinked. “She told me a bit about her mum and all.” Applejack scanned Octavia’s face. “Which I’m guessin’ you didn’t know. Vinyl’s ma was real controlling, tellin’ her who she could see, what she could do, all that ‘nob-less o-bilge’ stuff. Don’t reckon her old marefriend was much different. She’s used to folks dear to her tryin’ to put a collar on her. Don’ make that mistake.” “That. . . explains a great deal.” Octavia slapped a hoof to her face. It struck with enough force to make a small thunderclap, which felt entirely appropriate to the magnitude of her mistake. “I will not ask how you discovered this, but would that you had told me a week ago, before I allowed my emotions to run away with me and do exactly that.” “Well then you are up a creek.” Applejack said. The frankness of the statement forced a wheezing laugh out of Octavia.  “You are not wrong.” She took a breath, an easy smile lingering on her muzzle. “But we’re not here to talk about me. Come now, Blossom, what can I do?” “Ya’ll being here is plenty.” Blossom smiled back, incandescent happiness plain on her face. “Matter’a’fact, the only thing I want for you is to find what I found with Cin.” Cinnamon wrapped Blossom in a hug again. They almost glowed together, a sparkling aura worthy of an alicorn. “If that is the case, then I must beg my leave for now.” Octavia hugged them both. “I need- Well, foremost, I require a nap. Then, I must compose!”