Octavia’s left hoof worked a mellow vibrato from her cello’s strings as the other drew the bow smoothly across. The sustained note tapered perfectly into silence, but Octavia left no room for a pause after the reverie, launching immediately into the caprice. As the bow flashed back and forth ever faster, the hoof on the cello’s neck applied delicate pressure, angling perfectly so that Octavia could double stop in harmony.

Let those arrogant unicorns try that without magic.

Her piece reaching its fervent climax, she executed a broad glissando, ending in a soaring high note bowed behind her instrument’s bridge. Taking a minute to let her panting abate, she slid her bow over a block of rosin and wiped the sweat from her brow. She’d looked over to give the D-string’s peg a slight turn when her eye caught a bit of movement. Out the open window, Derpy had settled onto a bench and wore her goofy smile as she waited for Octavia to resume.

Must be a nice little distraction from her life. Oh, well. An audience is an audience.

Octavia flipped through her sheet music and selected an elegy. From the first stroke, a sonorous melody of longing sorrow poured from the second-story room. This piece was by no means new. Octavia could play it in her sleep. Working from memory, she peered out to watch Derpy’s reaction.

Derpy closed her eyes and knit her brow, rocking with the slow tempo. A wing unfurled and drooped. Just as the music ended, she sniffled and folded her wing back before the feathered tip could drag through the dust. Within moments, the usual empty stare had returned.

Next, Octavia moved into a polka, weaving a playful tune initially, then switching to a light pizzicato, plucking with the edge of a hoof.

Derpy’s grin broadened, and her head bobbed as she stuck her tongue out the side of her mouth. Her forelock flapped a bit behind the beat and continued for a few measures after the piece was over. Giggling, Derpy sat up straighter and let her left eye wander up toward the sky.

Finally, Octavia started into a passacaglia. The opening strains established a simple pentatonic melody, but she soon became embroiled in increasingly complex ornamentations.

A rather demanding composition. Don’t know it from memory well enough. Gotta read the sheet music on this one.

She’d played through a dozen interpretations on the theme when she chanced a look and saw an empty bench.

Hm. Must not be to her taste...

Octavia propped her cello and leaned onto the windowsill, looking both ways down the street. Nothing.

She was scratching a hoof at her chin when she heard a knock from downstairs. Answering it, she was met with Derpy’s walleyed face.

“I hope I’m not intruding, but that was wonderful! I heard Wynton Maresalis play that last year with the Canterlot Brass Ensemble. It’s a Sam-Mule Scheidt composition, right?” Derpy gushed, scratching a hoof at her mane.

“Yes...” What?

“Do you mind if I come in?” Derpy asked, stepping in once Octavia had nodded. “It’s interesting hearing it transcribed for cello. You know the part where it modulates into a minuet? If you slow it down a bit, it’ll sound more stately. And on the pavane—you’re already over on the G at the beginning of each phrase. If you double stop with the C-string, it’d really make that note sing!”

Octavia stood open-mouthed for a moment before smiling and gesturing toward the couch. This was going to be interesting. Fun and interesting.