Her Last Bow

Symphony in E Minor, Movement Two

***

If there was something that could stop me, it would be the newborn rain falling the sky, washing my worries away, gifting me the permission to enjoy tranquillity, may it be lasting for a mere moment.

And, fortunately, the rain came pouring down, making me stop dead in my tracks. I raised my head so that heavy raindrops would fall right on my weary eyelids and find their way down my face and straight into my fur. So they did.

I opened my mouth and immediately felt drops of cleanest water on my tongue. I swallowed the raindrops, feeling more and more relaxed with each passing second. My worries and troubles faded away, like a nightmare always fades into day.

In this time and space.

I stood in a small puddle, bathing in the rain, my mind clear as though after a sudden epiphany that everything was pointless. Well, everything was pointless. This time and space was awful to live in for most ponies. My sole existence had no objective  reason, though I now knew very well that it had a subjective one: my whole reason was her.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Now, after the sudden epiphany, I knew for sure that I would devote my life to Octa- Miss Philarmonica. I had a reason once more, and I felt... I felt something like optimism.

I turned around and walked back to the Conservatoire with a goofy, uneasy smile plastered upon my face. I still had a concert to attend.

I had a life to begin.

***

As I trotted in the direction of the square, I investigated the surroundings - something I'd never done before, so far as I can remember. I saw small stones beneath my hooves and knocked them with almost childish vigour, watching them fall at the curb. I smelled badly cooked hay fries with an incredible amount of oil; yet, I was happy even for this. I saw ponies trotting down and up the street, some of them rich and fashionable, some of them poor and upset. I admired the city and, as I felt it, the city admired me. After all, I'd bought almost all of it. Nothing more, nothing less.

When I reached the square, the queue to the entrance of the Royal Conservatoire had already occupied all the square and half of the road. I simply avoided it and came up to the back entrance, revealing my entrance pass from my saddlebag.

It seemed that the security pony needn't have taken a glance at the pass: he'd seen my face, and that was more than enough for me to come in.

So I did.

The corridor was narrow and dark. The flickering candles completed the impression of a medieval castle, even some sort of a dungeon. I chuckled at such a thought.

I chuckled.

That was one more thing I'd never done before and never thought I'd ever do.

I loved the feeling, though. I savoured it. I felt my throat getting used to the new sound and chuckled again, light-heartedly.

As I approached the large wooden door leading to the balcony, I opened my saddle bag and took out the most precious treasure in the world, in comparison to which all my money meant nothing - her bow.

I opened the door with firm resolve, only to see that the balcony had a single cushion lying on the floor, decorated with my gold initials. The staff knew I liked solitude. Had liked, before.

I placed myself upon the pillow and closed my eyes. The performance was yet to begin so I had some time to gather my thoughts and find enough courage to face Octav- Miss Philarmonica after the concert.

"Good day, sir," I hear a voice from behind.

I turned round to see a dark blue unicorn, with a light blue mane. He was wearing round glasses that suited him rather well. His cutie mark resembled a mask, the one that actors had used in ancient times.

"Unfortunately, I do not have the honour of knowing you, good sir," I replied politely, reminiscing good manners.

In reply, he silently handed me a business card, on which I could read:

Drunkard Stephen [CEO]

Royal Drama Theatre

"It's pronounced drun'kard, if that may interest you," he immediately said with a gentle smile, upon seeing my confusion.

"I see... How may I help you?" I offered, starting to feel slightly annoyed: I still wanted to remain with myself before the performance; however, my strangely merry mood outshone the irritation.

"I do not want to waste your precious time..." the blue unicorn began. "But, if I remember correctly, you had wanted to own the Royal Drama Theatre for quite a long time..." he cleared his throat. "As the new CEO, I'm willing to sell it."

My thoughts immediately directed themselves to such an offer. Indeed, I'd almost given up on the hope to buy the Drama Theatre, the only place of entertainment in Canterlot that I didn't own or had no shares whatsoever. The previous owner became my enemy, as he held tight at his establishment, not letting me "grab it in my filthy hooves", as he would say.

And now, I finally had an opportunity to make my dream real. Still, I had to solve one important question.

"May I enquire where the previous owner is right now?" I wondered with caution.

Drunkard lowered his head solemnly.

"Before the doors of Heaven, no less. Died of pneumonia a few weeks ago," he said in a grave voice, shaking his head.

However, I could fell something was amiss. It all looked too much like a theatrical performance, with this strange pony playing the leading role. Stealing my leading role.

"I do not think I am in the mood to discuss business affairs right now. I would like to enjoy the concert beforehand," I stated, coldly, but politely. "I will call on your office as soon as I have time."

The unicorn raised his brow.

"Oh, is that so? Aren't you afraid I will find a customer by that time? Somepony who pays more?" he wondered emotionlessly.

I chuckled, savouring the unfledged feeling.

"I don't think anypony could pay more that I can," I replied. "And even if they could... Money isn't the only way to solve problems in this country," I finished, looking straight into his eyes.

To his credit be it said that he held the gaze.

"That's... interesting, to say at least... Other ways..." he mumbled under his breath, still loud enough for me to hear. "Good evening to you, in this case," he said out loud and bowed his head.

I repeated the gesture. He left at once but I didn't see him leave: my attention was fixed on the stage.

The lights went out and the searchlight was directed to the central stage.

The performance was about to begin.

***

First, a black unicorn took the left part of the stage, placing himself on a stool next to the piano. He remained unseen, in the darkness.

Not that I cared.

Next, a grey unicorn mare passed the central stage, taking her place at the right part. She held a violin in her magical grip. She remained unseen, in the darkness.

And then came the light.

She walked out of the darkness into the light of the searchlight, taking the central stage. She held her cello, balancing against it. She waved to the audience that greeted her with an ovation.

I sighed in relief and felt a tear crawl down my cheek. She was real. I hadn't imagined her. The worst thing that could happen would be a sudden realization that she was a mere hallucination of my unstable mind.

Yet, she was real.

She closed her eyes and nodded to the two other musicians.

And then, the Music was born.

She began playing calmly, with unspoken ease. The composition demanded strict canons, yet she managed to put her soul into it.

After a while, the pianist took the leading role. However, to me, she was still the leading pony in the trio.

When the violinist began gently playing her strings, Miss Philarmonica shut her eyes completely, lost in the beautiful music.

All of a sudden, the musicians burst into a loud passage, taking me by surprise. I couldn't imagine such vigour in her - but still, it was present.

And, as if nothing had happened since the beginning, she started playing the first part again, calmly, even coldly, compared to her outburst.

She was channeling music through herself - I could see it.

I could feel it.

The music became louder. She was pulling the strings fervently, even violently - I expected the final crescendo.

But, commanding the music to her will, she silenced her instrument once more.

I felt like I was bathing in music, in a manner one would bathe in a sea. The waves of her charming melody covered me.

Quiet.            Quiet.          Piano.            Piano.

           Loud.            Loud.           Forte.             Forte.

I expected her to finish with an intense passage, so that the world would know her passion, her longing, her desire for music.

I was praying on her that exact moment. She became my only Lord, my only commander, my only love.

Yet, she finished the composition gently, taking her hoof off the cello, sighing like a vernal breeze after a long night.

The audience went wild with excitement. The ponied stomped their hooves, expressing their highest approvement.

I clapped my hooves as well, my gaze fixed firmly on her. My eyes were wet but I didn't have a care in the world.

I've just experienced my first communion after the epiphany.

She glanced at the balconies, throwing warm, genuine smiles at my neighbours. When she saw me, however, the smile faded. She rose her brow irritatingly and, trying not to show her anger, left the stage with a smile on her face, this time a fake one.

I immediately knew something was very, very wrong. There had been a terrible misunderstanding, that's all. Nothing more, nothing less.

For some reason she really hated me, in this time and space, and I had to find out why.

***

I approached the dressing room with a very heavy head on my shoulders. The pain had made its way inside and I couldn't do anything to stop it. The pain always came unexpectedly, and never in time.

The guard in front of the door regognised me and took a few steps to the left, letting me in.

However, I couldn't go inside straightaway. My headache had to be cured. I sighed and tossed a few bits toward the guard so he "wouldn't see" me lit up a cigarette. Smoking was forbidden in the Royal Conservatoire.

I think it should be forbidden everywhere, in this time and space.

I knew I was slowly killing myself with those cigarettes but they were the only things besides pills that could ease my pain.

In the beginning, I started smoking to overcome my pill addiction.

Now I'm addicted to both pills and cigarettes.

The irony!

I took one last puff and knocked at the door.

"Come in!" a voice sang from behind it. The sweetest voice in the world - her voice.

I entered the room. Miss Philarmonica was polishing her beloved instrument attentively. The was her hoof slid down its neck made me shiver. It was as if she were sliding down my neck...

"Not you again! Would you just stop stalking me?!" she hissed as she turned round to see the visitor, who, unfortunately, was I.

I bowed my head with respect nevertheless.

"I believe we've encountered a terrible misunderstanding, Miss Philarmonica. I am sure you must have mistaken me for somepony else since not only haven't I done any harm to you, I've recently met you for the first time and-" I began my on-the-spot speech, only to be interrupted by her regal, royal voice.

"You may have recently met me, yes!" she yelled, losing her composure. "But I'll never forgive you for what you've done to my family!" Tears were streaming from her eyes, which made me both sad and somewhat angry - because of the pain and constant misunderstandings.

"I don't even know your family!" I exclaimed, almost breaking into a yell myself.

"Oh, you never know those on whom you stomp as you walk upon your golden stairway to wealth and power! You just crush them and go on!" Octavia shouted, now crying out loud.

"Could you just tell me what I've done?!" I roared, my head almost exploding from intense torture.

"So you really don't remember, do you?" Octavia sighed and closed her eyes.

She faced me and looked straight into my eyes, as if she were trying to read me like a book.

She closed her eyes and, after a moment, opened them again.

"You killed my parents."