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- >you are Hope
- >you've been watching your mom play instruments for years now
- >your earliest memories are of you plucking at harp strings and listening to the odd vibrations they made
- >you remember mom walking in on you and smiling, cooing happy words and playing a song for you
- >by the time you were 5, every night was full of music
- >mom had sat down and taught you everything you ever wanted to know about music history and culture
- >at age 7, you were starting to strum the strings on mom's lyre when she was away
- >when she'd come home, she'd offer advice and tips about your work
- >you could feel yourself getting better by the day
- >then, mom left
- >things were oddly black and white from there
- >without the music every night, you had trouble sleeping
- >although dad always apologized about what happened, you couldn't help feeling depressed
- >even bird watching seemed lacking
- >at the age of 10, your love for music was rekindled
- >a pony named Fiddlesticks had put on a show in Ponyville, and watching her go to town on that fiddle brought you back to your childhood
- >that night, you couldn't stop crying
- >dad came in and tried to help, but ultimately was sent away
- >nearly a week later, on your eleventh birthday, dad came into the room toting fig pancakes
- >"Hey sweetie. How are you feeling?"
- >you shrug, putting your bird log off to the side
- "Nothing to report."
- >he places the plate down and folds his hands in his lap
- >"Hope, we're going out as soon as you're done eating. No need to rush, but I'll be waiting for you."
- >you smile softly and pick up the plate
- "Yeah, those crosswords can't finish themselves."
- >he messes up your hair before leaving, shooting his finger guns at you
- >you can't help but scarf down the delicious breakfast
- >I mean, fuck man. Fuckin figs
- >satisfied, you splay out on your bed, sighing
- >you didn't really want to put clothes on, but dad had outside rules too
- >running downstairs, now wearing summer shorts and a tank top, you bump your dad with your shoulder
- "Come on, dude. Let's go."
- >he gets you in a headlock and swings around a bit
- >he always roughhoused with you, so you didn't mind
- >exiting the house, dad began a string of uncomfortable conversation
- >"Do you think about mom a lot?"
- >you slow to a stop, eyeing him
- "I think about her every night."
- >you see him trying to think of his next move
- >"Do you remember when you used to play stuff together?"
- "Of course. Best years of my life behind me."
- >he recoils, but stands strong
- >"Well, I was thinking maybe you should try again."
- "Huh?"
- >he points at the shop you stand in front of
- >Instruments and Scrolls
- "What are we doing here?"
- >"Hope, for your birthday I'm going to buy you whatever instrument you'd like."
- >unconsciously, you begin to bounce on your hooves
- >could this really be happening?
- >trying to get your voice back, dad only nods
- >"Yes, really."
- >with that, you can't hold yourself back from charging into the shop like a bull
- >swiftly making your way to stringed instruments, you nearly knock over another satyr in the store
- >she angrily shouts at you, purple stuff leaking from her eyes, before going back to testing the flutes in front of her
- >you don't even care
- >they have everything here from sitars to sanxians
- >calming yourself, you pick up each one at a time, feeling the weight in your hands and the positioning of your fingers
- >you weren't interested in most, although giving each a few plucks satisfies you
- >you lift up an odd looking one with a lot of weird buttons
- >it also has strings and a bow
- >this one might be hard to learn
- >you want this one the most
- >you glance at the name
- >Nyckelharpa
- >what a silly name
- >as you bring your purchase up front, dad seems genuinely shocked
- >"That was faster than expected. What is that thing?"
- "It's what I want."
- >he smiles and takes it from you, heading towards the counter
- >the pony smiles at your dad as she checks him out
- >in more than one way
- >surprisingly, it wasn't the most expensive instrument in the shop
- >now with songbook in stand, you attempted to hold the darn thing
- >after a lot of confusion you put it down
- "I can teach myself tomorrow."
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