Una Nota Dolce, Chapter 13 - Fiamma Eterna

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y4OLQB7ON9w
>You are Octavia.
>Just keep running.
>That’s all you can do.
>That’s all you can will yourself to do.
>Why…why can’t things just go back to the way they used to be?
>Your hoofsteps echo down the empty street as you run through the orange glow of the night in the big city.
>Even surrounded by all these p0nies, the hustle and bustle of the modern metropolis, it feels empty.
>Or is it just you?
>You fight tears back as you bolt across the street, sending up a litany of honks and yells in protest.
>”Octavia…I love you.”
>That’s what Anon said.
>Even after everything he said before, after the time spent apart…why…
>Why would he come all this way and say that?
>What does he want?
>The noise of the city falls away as you enter the spacious park, empty as many p0nies are sleeping in preparation of the rising of the solstice sun.
>Your legs can carry you no farther.
>You lean against a tree, catching your breath.
>”Why don’t you pack your crap, get on that goddamn train and go back to the city WHERE YOU FUCKING BELONG?!”
>You sink to the ground, gritting your teeth as you look skyward.
>You lose track of how long you stare.
>Even in this enclave of nature, the sky holds no stars.
>”You belong in P0nyville…with me…”
“What do you want from me…”
>You say your words through choked tears, silently wishing for the answer to fall from the sky.
>”Shouldn’t the question be what do you want for yourself?”
>…wait, what?
>You look in the direction the voice came from.
>A large white alicorn leans against the other side of the tree, eyes closed and smile wide as her pastel mane flutters in the nonexistent breeze.
“P…Princess Celestia!”
>You bolt up and bow before the princess, who just waives her hoof nonchalantly.
>”Please, Octavia, no need to stand on formality with me.”
>You shift nervously as you stand up.
>”Come, sit next to me Octavia. It’s a lovely night.”
>When a princess asks you to sit next to her, you bloody well sit next to her.
>You’re too exhausted to argue with your brain, you sit next to Celestia in the grass, feeling the moisture sink into your dress.
“How do you know my name, your high…Celestia?”
>Celestia smiles, appreciating your powers of observation.
>”Your friend Anon is a rather charming young man.”
>Your face visibly droops as she mentions his name, looking down at the earth.
>Celestia just keeps smiling.
>”That song you two played was beautiful.”
“Yes…I suppose it was…”
>”But this doesn’t make you happy?”
>You don’t respond.
>It was a bit like old times…wasn’t it?
>You grit your teeth and pound the ground with your hoof.
>Your anger quickly subsides.
>You missed the old times. A life of virtual vagrancy, going from concert hall to concert hall, practicing your craft.
>Honing your art.
>Yet all it took was a flight of fancy, chasing an enigma who swept into your cozy little life.
>It took just one note to catch your attention and string you in like a fish.
>One look from him was all it took to think you could settle down.
>One kiss…
>You let a tear escape to the grass as Celestia puts a wing around your shoulders.
“I thought going back to the way it used to be would solve everything…that I could stop hurting…”
>Celestia sighs and smiles warmly.
>”Octavia…you know what I love best about summer?”
>You sniffle and shake your head.
>”Summer is the season of love.”
“Come again?”
>Celestia smiles and looks skyward. Your vision is drawn to see what she is looking at.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-3GIuIcCNiE
>”Summer is the hottest season…the days are blazing and the nights are just as hot.”
>You listen intently, your jimmies rustling at her tone.
>It reminds you of being a filly, listening to your mom tell stories.
>”Young passions burn as brightly as the summer sun…sometimes, like all bright candles, they wither and die quickly…”
>You remain speechless.
>”And sometimes…that quick spark sets off a slow burn, that is not so easily extinguished. You may try to put it out and smother it, but like the stars themselves, such feeling will burn through.”
>You lower your gaze.
“But there are no stars out tonight.”
>Celestia giggles as her horn glows.
>”Octavia…one thing you need to remember, is that when you push aside the superfluous and unimportant, all the clutter and confusion…”
>Her horn flashes as every light in the city goes out.
>”…the stars are always there, and always burning. Even when you cannot see them.”
>You return your gaze to the sky.
>With the light of the city blotted out, the stars above shine in all their glory.
>Just like back there, on the shores of the reservoir.
>”Actually, the main reason I came here was to give you this.”
>With a dash of magic, Celestia levitates up your cello, secure in its case, and sets it in front of you.
>Attached to it is a violin case, but…
“That…that’s not my violin.”
>Celestia rolls a mischievous eye upwards. “Oh? That was the only one, so I figured it must be yours. Anon left with the broken one.”
>Why would he…
>”I guess there was a mixup. I’m sure you can trade him when you see him again.”
“When I see him again…”
>”All you need to do is figure out, what…or who, does your star burn for?”
>Before you can say anything, Celestia disappears, like a scent on the wind.
>Who does my star burn for…
>The lights of Manehattan come back up for a city full of very…confused p0nies.
>You stand and shoulder your cello, Anon’s violin bouncing lightly against the fabric.
>You look up.
>You cannot see any stars.
>But they’re still there…burning brightly.
>You sigh and turn, making your way to the train station.
>A few bits secures yourself a ticket to Trottingham.
>Perhaps the princess is right.
>Get away from everything. The old life your mind yearned for.
>The new life your heart burned for.
>It’s time to clear your head to see with eyes unclouded.

--------------

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oULJkKih0fc
>You are still Octavia.
>Two months.
>Two months is a long time to ponder.
>Just one last thing…then you’ll have your answer.
>You look out the window. Fall is in full effect, the trees abloom in hues of red and yellow, accented by the golden evening sun.
>The conductor calls through the car.
>”Next stop…P0nyville.”
>As the train comes to a stop, you stand, shouldering your cello.
>Anon’s violin still in place.
>Neither instrument has left their case since you left Manehattan.
>With a deep breath, you step out of the car and onto the platform of the P0nyville train station.
>You see the town. It’s hardly changed at all as dead leaves swirl on the ground, p0nies going about their business.
>You see with eyes unclouded.
>It’s been so long since you’ve walked these paths, but it feels like you travelled them just yesterday.
>The path to Anon’s door.
>You cock your head at the “For Sale” sign tacked on the door.
>Did he leave?
>Could he not come back to this place after…
>”Hey, Octavia!”
>You spin at the voice, finding that mailmare standing behind you.
>What was her name? Ditzy? Dinky? Derp…
>Where the bloody hell is her eye going?
“Ah…Derpy, hello. Do…do you know where Anon went?”
>Derpy beams.
>”Oh, him? He opened a shop across town, near Carousel Boutique! Come on, I’ll show you!”
>Derpy leads you across town, regardless of the fact that you know where Carousel Boutique is.
>The small talk is pleasant, but forgettable.
>Apparently, Pinkie Pie moved out of town suddenly.
>After Anon returned from Manehattan, he promptly sold his house and bought land, building a small shop, living in a loft apartment above the storefront floor.
>Derpy doesn’t see him much any more, but he seems changed than how he was before.
>This causes a frown to cross your face.
>How will he react when he sees you?
>”Well, here we are!”
>It’s a modest little two-story, sparse decoration on the outside.
>A large wooden sign hangs over the door.
>On one side is the image of a treble clef, like your cutie mark.
>From that reads three words.
>One sweet note.
“Una Nota Dolce…”
>You take a deep breath and walk in.
>Various instruments line the walls of the small, empty storefront.
>Violins, cellos, clarinets, trumpets…there’s even a double bass in the corner.
“Hello? Is anyone here?”
>No answer.
>You see a door leading into the back. Maybe he can’t hear you.
>With trepidation, you push the door open with your hoof.
>The back room is empty too.
>It looks like a small workshop. A single light illuminates a workbench as tools and scraps of wood litter the space, a flight of stairs next to you leading upwards.
>You set your instruments down against the wall as you inspect the workbench more closely.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CrGqC6tKeN8
>No way…
>There’s no mistaking it.
>It isn’t completed, but there’s no other thing it could be.
>It’s Sonnet’s violin.
>Your violin…
>”He’s been putting it back together, piece by piece.”
>You turn to find Sweetie Belle standing at the top of the stairs.
>”Sorry, Anon asked me to watch the store while he was out, and I really had to go…”
“No…no…it’s quite alright…but…why would…”
>Sweetie Belle walks up to you.
>”Fix it? I don’t know. He says it’ll probably never sound right again, but…he wants to fix it anyway. It’s important to him.”
“Just…him?”
>A coy smile crosses Sweetie Belle’s lips.
>You get the feeling this filly is more conniving than she lets on.
>”Him…and a ‘very special somep0ny.’”
>You close your eyes, that knot forming in your gut.
>It doesn’t hurt though.
>A small smile crosses your face.
>You have your answer as you head out the door.
>You bet you know where he is.
>Your cello leans against the wall, Anon’s violin resting comfortably on top of it.

--------------

>You are Anon.
>Your lungs strain as you dive down towards the bottom of the Highland Reservoir.
>The water is starting to get that special stinging cold.
>Guess this is the last swim of the season.
>You reach your limit as you surface, following the bubbles to open skies above.
>You break the surface of the water, floating on your back as you look at the cloudless sky above.
>The stars are starting to come out as the full moon rises to its place in the sky.
“Moon looks beautiful tonight.”
>”Yes, it does.”
>You catch your breath in your chest as you flounder in the water, sinking below the surface.
>As your head pops back above water, you turn to face the source of the voice.
“Octavia?!”
>The raven-haired mare stands on the shore of the reservoir, her face as stoic as a statue.
>You rub your eyes. You must be hallucinating.
>Nope, she’s still there.
>Thanks, brain.
“…What are you doing here?”
>”I came to return your violin.”
>You hope you only look as crestfallen as you feel.
“Oh…thank you…”
>There’s an uncomfortable silence as the two of you look at each other, only broken by the gentle sound of lapping waves.
>”I just have one question, Anon.”
>You don’t answer.
>”…Who does your star burn for?”
>Ok, Anon, this is a trick question. We got to make sur-
“…I don’t have to say it.”
>”Why not?”
“Because you already know the answer.”
>…
>…Anon, you dun go-
>A smile crosses Octavia’s lips as she tugs off her bow tie.
>With a running start, she jumps into the water.
>What the actual fu….
>Swimming a short distance under the water, Octavia surfaces directly in front of you.
>In one fluid motion, her forehooves snake around your neck.
>And she brings her lips to yours.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gUcbczpe9QY
>Every voice in your head explodes, washed away with your fear and mistrust.
>As your arms find their way around the gray mare’s torso, her own grip tightens in response as she breaks away, her half-lidded eyes accented by the curls of her smile around flushed red cheeks.
>”Good answer.”
>You cannot help but smile as you press your forehead against hers.
“…so when did you learn to swim?”
>”Well…thinking leaves you with a lot of free time…”
>You chuckle as her melodious giggle fills your ears.
>Her violet eyes open and stare into yours, shining in the moonlight reflected off the surface of the water.
>Those eyes.
>You close them as you bring your lips to hers once again.

-------------

>You open your eyes as you and Octavia part lips.
>And the crowd goes wild.
>Confetti flutters down through the sky with the wilting leaves.
>Octavia looks absolutely stunning in that white wedding dress.
>Rarity sure does know her craft.
>Octavia closes her eyes and nuzzles your chest.
>”We did it…”
“Yeah…we did…”
>This elicits a collection of dawws from the gathered crowd.
“From here on out…”
>Octavia smiles, drawing close to your face.
>”We sing our song.”
>Damn this wonderful mare.
>The crowd cheers as you pull each other close again, lips locking together.
>Just one sweet note out of many more to come.
~Fin