(Canterlot) The Night Shift (Open)

[SteelEagle]

The cello had been silenced for some time, perhaps a half hour or so, as Octavia finally made her way out of the restaurant's dressing room. There wasn't much to undress in all honesty but there was a process to undergo and it allowed her time to unwind from another uneventful performance at this eatery. They called themselves the Gallaway Restaurant but it was little more than a cafe with ambition and some resources, the food unspectacular and without that flair that would mark them as a place worthy of notice in Canterlot's bustling eatery scene. But a musician for hire didn't question the legitimacy of a gig when the schedule was open. She had been hired to replace the previous musician who had skipped out when the tip jar had been empty- very few ponies had come in. That didn't matter to Octavia as the base contract was better than the zero bits she was going to make on those days otherwise, and her morale would have been unaffected by poor attendance.

The music she produced would be both her offering to those that came around as well as a shield of contentment that she could easily hide behind. She was lost in a musical paradise, in notes and the plucking of strings. The first two nights had come and gone simply enough, a few bits in the tip jar and a nice sandwich to see her off for the night. This night had gone just as easily, with a few bits in the tip jar and the hectic atmosphere and discordant humming of the cafe being soothed for the rest of the shift. That was its own reward, Octavia figured, not any paltry sum of money. Thinking that perhaps she had effected some actual change to an establishment such as this, even if only for a short while, was a victory all its own. That and free drinks! Juice was a favorite, but post performance she needed something a bit more.

"One applejack and a romaine sandwich, Miss Octavia," The full-time bartender and part-time waiter offered her the same as the previous night and Octavia smiled warmly at the fellow. Eager to please, excited and a bit jangled, a little bit pure of intent if unsure of himself, this was a stallion for whom Octavia believed her music held little hope of calming down. At least he was polite.

[colour=#330066]"Thank you, Bumbles,"[/colour] She replied simply, taking her seat at a table and looking down at her sandwich and drink. Ah, a good time to be sure.

[RarityDash]

Information could pass quickly, even in a city the size of Canterlot. Damask Luster had been to Gallaway Restaurant once before, and had at the time seen no reason to ever return. Just today he had heard certain murmurs about the place that brought it back to his attention. Evidently they had brought on a new musician, an inspiring virtuoso who was well worth enduring the less than spectacular venue and choking down some thoroughly mediocre food. An inspiring musician himself, Damask found himself most intrigued by the news. Checking it out was really a no-brainer.

Gallaway itself was as dull and listless a place as he had remembered, but he found a table in the far corner of the room and sat for a while and waited for the set to start. Eventually, she appeared. Damask had heard the musician was good, but the rumors hadn't mentioned her beauty. As she began her set, she had Damask's full attention. Her music as it turned out was every bit as lovely as her face. She was truly a master of the strings, summoning from them music of such strength and emotion that Damask found himself amazed, captivated, and perhaps even a little jealous.

In the end, the colt found himself staying for the whole set, wanting to take in as much as he could. Eventually it got quite late and the mare finally concluded her wonderful little show. She disappeared for a while into the back, but Damask opted to wait, hoping to get a word in with her. She soon emerged and took a seat at the bar, where she was served a sandwich and a drink. Quietly, Damask trotted up the bar and took a seat next to the mare.

[colour=#ff3366]"A glass of sweet apple cider, please,"[/colour] Damask told the barkeep, nodding. If he was going to sit here, ordering something seemed like the expected thing to do, even if he was a little too young for their harder drinks.

As he waited for his drink, after a pause, he turned to the talented gray mare.[colour=#ff0033] [/colour][colour=#ff3366]"I wanted to let you know that I found your music inspiring,"[/colour] he said, smiling.[colour=#ff3366] "A rare and winsome thing of beauty. In the gentle subtleties of your allaying melodies, there was such a rich depth of emotion. I found it truly captivating."[/colour]

[SteelEagle]

The worst part about a cafe like this was that while their food was serviceable, it went down slow and hardy. She had learned that the hard way the night previous when a supposedly friendly cup of coffee had revolted inside her the whole morning. Looking at the food now presented her, she had the sense that tonight was going to follow the same script. It almost made her not want to eat at all. The sounds the body made while ill were already horrifying enough for everypony to mock them. If you were as aurally attuned as she was, then it went from horrifying to soul scarring. Well, soul scarring bodily noises was a superior outcome to starvation she figured, and she looked down at the romaine sandwich with a mixture of resignation and fear.

That didn't stop her from hearing the clip clop clap of hooves behind her. It didn't take a scientist to scrape together who was responsible. Light on the hooves, fast and lengthy, a younger pony for sure. The gait told her that the stride was not that of a filly, as they tended to take smaller steps. It was a colt. her senses were not incorrect as a colt sat next to her and ordered sweet apple cider, obviously striving to be an older pony. A foalish proposition; little ponies should prize their youth, for it was truly one of the few things that when it went away was unable to recapture despite what some desperate fable may whisper. What followed next was pleasant if not shocking. He complimented her on her set in all the ways she would have preferred. Octavia could barely contain a smile.

[colour=#330066]"You are a very well spoken young colt, are you not?"[/colour] She asked with a pleasant smile. An intelligent, polite, well spoken colt like himself was perhaps rarer than t should have been. A shame, though it may have conflicted with her earlier proclamation that he should hold true his youth. She decided she liked the well-spoken kind more.

[colour=#330066]"Thank you very much for your compliments, dear. It is not often I see such a cute little colt such as yourself with such an appreciation for your music. What is your name...and why are you out so late without your parents?"[/colour] She asked with only a minor trace of concern. She could tell that he was no stranger to these parts and likely to independence of spirit. She could hear the beating of a different drum.

[RarityDash]

[colour=#330066]"You are a very well spoken young colt, are you not?"[/colour]

The voice of the mare suited her well, as did her smile. Damask found himself grinning back pleasantly. This mare was really cool. There was just a lot to admire in her, and nothing less than her awesome skill at the strings.

[colour=#330066]"Thank you very much for your compliments, dear. It is not often I see such a cute little colt such as yourself with such an appreciation for your music. What is your name...and why are you out so late without your parents?"[/colour]

Okay, well she was kind of patronizing. He was practically a stallion already; was asking about his parents really necessary? Damask wasn't the sort to get worked up over that kind of thing though. He was a very relaxed, easy going sort of pony. He was also kind of used to it. Being treated that way by a pretty mare still was a bit of a blow, however. He was sure he'd recover.

[colour=#ff3366]"The name is Damask Luster. I'm an aspiring musician of sorts myself. I had heard this place had recently received a badly needed transfusion of life in the form of a certain maestro at the strings so I thought to check it out for myself,"[/colour] the colt said with a grin.

[colour=#ff3366]"As for my parents,"[/colour] he said chuckling. [colour=#ff3366]"My mother still thinks I'm a susceptible foal and my father thinks I'm a disappointment."[/colour] Damask smirked and gave a small nod of his head. [colour=#ff3366]"For those reasons, when I go out, I generally prefer to do so without them tagging along."[/colour]

[SteelEagle]

It didn't take long for Octavia to firmly stick her hoof in her mouth, an awe-inspiring tactic of hers that she proudly used all the time. She could feel bhis mood change, if only slightly and for a short time, his eyes slamming around her like a drum solo she had once attributed to mere coltish independence. No, it wasn't just the foalish thoughts of a growing pony. The way he spoke, the timber of his voice, that spoke of experience. Of an adult. Of a stallion, if not in age, at least in spirit. One she had insulted. The switch was flipped and already she resolved to make it up to him.

A musician? No wonder he had stayed for the full set despite the ambiance of the run down cafe. She was perhaps arrogant in believing her music to be all that special but how could she believe otherwise when her fans would spend their time in a place such as this to hear her? The fact she could act as inspiration for somepony who in turn was seeking to give the world the gift of music was reason enough for her to buy into her own silly propaganda.

[colour=#330066]"Well, you'll beg my pardon if I call your parents complete foals, Damask. Pursuing a career in music is perhaps one of the most noble things a pony could do. Oh well. I suppose those without the drive or the mind for it can see only the financial dangers of the lifestyle,"[/colour] She sighed, her annoyance with such frustrating mindsets clear.

[colour=#330066]"So, Luster, what inspired you to create music?"[/colour] Her tone edged downwards and she took a bog, dangerous, partially sloppy bite out of her entirely sloppy sandwich.

[RarityDash]

[colour=#330066]"Well, you'll beg my pardon if I call your parents complete foals, Damask. Pursuing a career in music is perhaps one of the most noble things a pony could do. Oh well. I suppose those without the drive or the mind for it can see only the financial dangers of the lifestyle,"[/colour]

Damask just nodded at the remarks and smiled slightly. He couldn't agree more. [colour=#ff3366]"Well, with my father I doubt anything short of enistment in the REA is considered acceptable... and even then I'm not sure there's really much of a good side to get on..." [/colour]he said with a shrug, thinking of his siblings who had gone the traditional Steel family route of service. Certain ponies just couldn't be pleased for anything, and Major Rufous Steeledge was an exemplar to that fact; even his sister, Radiant, who had practically followed directly right in his hoofsteps didn't have much to show for it. Damask had learned not to try before even trying with him, which though it lead to distance was at least better than the active antagonization his older brother Dagger had with their father, he supposed. Either way he didn't stress over it all obsessively like Radiant did. It was easy for him to just got with the flow and live his life as he wanted to, not worrying about anything else.

[colour=#330066]"So, Luster, what inspired you to create music?"[/colour]

Damask smirked as he considered the question, taking a sip of his cider as he did. After a small pause, he spoke, "[colour=#ff3366]Well, I suppose I was inspired by romance. Not exactly a particular love, but instead by the idea of it all--it compelled me to write songs. Mostly what I do is lyrical stuff, you see; writing songs, singing them. I decided to learn as much as I could about the music and how to play it to lend power to my words, I guess." [/colour]

The young pegasus paused to sip more of his cider. After a moment's pause, he then smiled.[colour=#ff3366] "I keep finding now that the music itself can have just as much power--or more--on its own. You could say I'm still learning it all, but so far it's been an enjoyable ride."[/colour]

[SteelEagle]

Emotions were perhaps the single most powerful promoter of the arts throughout time. They existed eternally and as pure and strong as ever from the first pony to the ones today who bore the weight of untold generations, the one unifying factor that they all felt. Fear, love, embarassment, pride, just the tip of the veritable iceberg that hung beneath the calm seas, ready to bring low the unwary traveler or the pony who disregarded them. She herself had been driven to music by emotion, even if at the time she didn't know. Fear of the powerful chords that seemed to surround her and rip apart the calm serenity of her existence and the sheer joy when she discovered herself entombed in a sea of notes when she first found herself lost in the zone. It came as no surprise that Luster was also inspired by emotion. Romance, love, was one of the most attractive and soul-forming of the emotions. Someone so touched by it were truly blessed. Whether Luster was blessed already or just on his way was unknown. Either way it was still wonderful.

[colour=#330066]"Romance? I see. It is very powerful. It can take and hold your heart and mind rather fervently. However, if you've never felt it's true power, how can you be so inspired by it?"[/colour] Octavia asked pointedly, sipping her cider as she eyed her delightful guest.

[colour=#330066]"I do not mean to insult, I am just rather curious. In order to be the best possible musician, you must have an...intrinsic understanding of the passion that fuels you. Otherwise, you may hit a wall in your development and find yourself only a fraction of who you were meant to be,"[/colour] A bite out of the romaine sandwich followed, a head nod,[colour=#330066] "And you are very right. Music does have power on its own. However, Luster, remember this: Music exists at all times, in all places, in every sense. Open your heart and mind to the understanding that even the bare running creek or the sweet silent night are aural delights and you will soon find life fully textured. Which brings me back to my question: What is it about romance that has inspired you so, of all things and manners of inspiration, despite your inexperience?"[/colour]

A smile and a sip, allowing Luster time to reconvene his mind.

[colour=#330066]"A stern father from the REA? Cannot say I'm shocked. You would be stunned to find out how many musicians claim a similar background. Something about the unyielding constraints of such authority breeds a certain artistic madness, perhaps."[/colour]

[RarityDash]

[colour=#330066]"Romance? I see. It is very powerful. It can take and hold your heart and mind rather fervently. However, if you've never felt it's true power, how can you be so inspired by it?"[/colour]

Damask was impressed. Truly, everything about this mare was impressive. She was in a word inspiring. She missed nothing. She was a virtuoso, an artist, somepony in touch with the rare truth that even the most perceptive might miss. Damask sipped his cider and smiled, just letting the mare continue to give her wisdom.

[colour=#330066]"I do not mean to insult, I am just rather curious. In order to be the best possible musician, you must have an...intrinsic understanding of the passion that fuels you. Otherwise, you may hit a wall in your development and find yourself only a fraction of who you were meant to be. [/colour][colour=#330066]And you are very right. Music does have power on its own. However, Luster, remember this: Music exists at all times, in all places, in every sense. Open your heart and mind to the understanding that even the bare running creek or the sweet silent night are aural delights and you will soon find life fully textured. Which brings me back to my question: What is it about romance that has inspired you so, of all things and manners of inspiration, despite your inexperience?"[/colour]

The colt put his cider down and nodded to the mare, feeling enriched by her words. [colour=#ff3366]"Well, there was a spark of sorts. It did start somewhere serious." [/colour]Damask immediately gave a small laugh. [colour=#ff3366]"Well, perspective is a fluid thing--in retrospect it was a simple schoolyard crush and I was a foal in every sense of the word. However, back then it felt like the most important thing in the world to me and that feeling... that sense... that desire... it stuck with me long after anything real had fizzled and faded, leaving me to write my ballads to an idea from which I have since, unfortunately, kept some distance."[/colour]

[colour=#ff3366]"Though to better answer your question, I'm not really sure why it's kept me so transfixed above all else," [/colour]the young pony said with a slight shrug. [colour=#ff3366]"It's been a while since I was that foal in love and since then there have hardly been many muses for songs of romance I could name. I don't know; perhaps I'm just rebelling, singing of love as my father stands guard, ready for war. Perhaps instead it's just a dream that burns deep in me, a fantasy I hope to someday realize. It's hard for me to say, and before tonight, I had never really stopped to question it."[/colour]

[colour=#330066]"A stern father from the REA? Cannot say I'm shocked. You would be stunned to find out how many musicians claim a similar background. Something about the unyielding constraints of such authority breeds a certain artistic madness, perhaps."[/colour]

Damask nodded at these further comments. He replied readily, [colour=#ff3366]"It can breed a number of things, many of which could rightly be labeled 'madness', if my family is any indicator. I see in my siblings animosity, aggression, anxiety... if what it instead inspired in me was 'artistic madness' I'd sedom hesitate in calling myself fortunate."[/colour]

[SteelEagle]

That explained it well enough. He had the sweet taste of puppy love as a little colt, the purity of such feeling was truly something remarkable. Unlike the love that came up later in life that was littered with all manner of impurity, puppy love was so basically innocent and pure that the feelings they engendered would doubtlessly follow you. If this was the catalyst, then it must have been powerful enough to enrapture a young pony's heart so. Octavia smiled warmly.

[colour=#330066]"That is very sweet. Puppy love can be so rewarding to those who experienced it! So pure, emotional without the chaos that comes with it later in life. Very lucky to have found that. I had my own brushes with it but I can never say I felt the same drive as you. Then again, that is what makes every artist unique, the event or passion that drives them forward," [/colour]Octavia lectured kindly as she finished her drink. The bartender was quick to replace it, much to her joy. She listened to her compatriot continue and nodded. She disagreed on some key points but feeling alienated from family could do just that.

[colour=#330066]"What's that phrase- different strokes for different folks? For some, the rigid confines of such a formal upbringing are attractive. And don't be so quick to cast such pointed remarks at them. From our position they may appear forceful. From their view, we are a step removed from vagrants who do little to help the world. The truth,"[/colour] Octavia said slyly, finishing her sandwich, [colour=#330066]"is somewhere in the middle.

But mind indulging me for a second? Tell me about that puppy love of yours. I'm interested in seeing how the arts blossom."[/colour]

[RarityDash]

[colour=#330066]"That is very sweet. Puppy love can be so rewarding to those who experienced it! So pure, emotional without the chaos that comes with it later in life. Very lucky to have found that. I had my own brushes with it but I can never say I felt the same drive as you. Then again, that is what makes every artist unique, the event or passion that drives them forward."[/colour]

Damask blushed slightly at the mare's words. This was kind of an embarrassing thing to discuss like this. Still, the mare's words remained so eloquent that Damask found her a delight to listen to. She really was the sort he could learn a lot from. Damask just smiled and let her continue.

[colour=#330066]"What's that phrase- different strokes for different folks? For some, the rigid confines of such a formal upbringing are attractive. And don't be so quick to cast such pointed remarks at them. From our position they may appear forceful. From their view, we are a step removed from vagrants who do little to help the world. The truth [/colour][colour=#330066]is somewhere in the middle. But mind indulging me for a second? Tell me about that puppy love of yours. I'm interested in seeing how the arts blossom."[/colour]

The colt gave a nod. He was somewhat hesitant to talk about something his little foalhood crush, but he wasn't going to refuse this mare. He gave a small laugh and spoke, his voice just slightly shaky at first. [colour=#ff3366]"W-well... As I said I was a rather young foal at the time, my flank was still bare. Her name was Amaranth Blossom and she was one of many fillies in my class. I was quite shy back then, and didn't make friends very easily, but she always extended kindness my way. In time I noticed, and in time I decided I liked it. I was far too awkward to know what to do, however. My brother, shrewd as he is, noticed my anxieties, pinpointed that a filly was to blame and teased me mercilessly about it. Now even then, as a colt, he had a reputation as the charming, suave and handsome sort fillies went for, so I swallowed my pride and begged him to tell me how to get Amaranth to fall for me,"[/colour] Damask smirked as he came to a pause. [colour=#ff3366]"He more or less blew me off, telling me that all it took was a few pretty words and nothing more."[/colour]

Damask gave a small sigh, and shook his head.[colour=#ff3366] "My brother's words stuck with me though, and soon I began trying to think up the prettiest words I could. It took the form of poetry. I wrote a number of them seeking what my young mind might consider perfection, but it eluded me. Weeks passed as I obsessed over it, until finally I had something I was convinced would amaze Amaranth. I was however left at a loss as to how to say them. Just reading them seemed to hardly do them justice. Eventually it dawned on me to sing; I had always loved singing songs, but at the time I had never given thought to writing songs. Looking at what I wrote, however, I noticed it wasn't so different from lyrics to a song. I started to practice singing, until eventually I felt I was pretty good at it. Everything had come together, and in that moment of satisfaction with what I had produced, I received the rose on my flank."[/colour]

The colt looked down and laughed. [colour=#ff3366]"I was going to sing to Amaranth the next day, but I was devastated to observe that somewhere along the way, while I had been perfecting my song, another colt had asked to be her coltfriend. I never worked up the courage to try my song on her, and then, around the time I became a colt, her and her family moved away to Manehattan. I never saw her again, but though I had never used it, I was proud of the song I had written. I continued to write and eventually convinced my mother to go behind my father's back and buy for me a guitar so I could learn to play music as well,"[/colour] Damask said, ending on a sigh. [colour=#ff3366]"And that's about the full story. From there it's just been a lot of learning and practice and not a lot of romance."[/colour]

[SteelEagle]

What an adorable story. The best thing about love at that stage is that it went through the highs and lows of later loves without the nasty, often cancerous side effects that poisoned your emotions later. She reckoned back to her filly days and found the reservoir of emotions from those days had run dry some time ago, replaced earnestly by the dancing notes of endless musical processions. She could remember the music of the Germaneic composers swaying in the moonlight and expertly subduing her restlessness. It escorted her along the loud cacophony that made up her schooldays with the epic raging drums of her classmates hollowed out by the mere memory of the soft tones of her first love.

Maybe even her only love and if that was the truth, then what a love it was. She didn't think back to her lack of some true puppy love as some sort of missed opportunity as she had felt the love of her life pull and tug and scream at her from the time she could differentiate between the soft pull of the violin strumming sweetly and serenely next to the cello. The french horn and the trumpet played tricks on one another and she wallowed in their pettiness all day, all night, and iin her heart she knew peace. Was that love, this sort of inner peace mixed pleasurably with contained chaos? She hoped it was. If it was, then they were on even ground. If not, then sweet little Damask had an advantage over her.

[colour=#330066]"Very sweet, Damask. You should consider yourself lucky that you life's ambition is so cleanly attributed and wonderfully remembered. Most colts can't remember that as well as you, so it is something you should continue to treasure. It'll serve you well," [/colour]She offered with a smile, finishing her food and taking a deep breath.

[colour=#330066]"Say what you will-"[/colour] and she said no ill as the bartender came back around, taking her plate and cup away, [colour=#330066]"but this place fills you up. I'm full. What are your plans for the night, Damask?"[/colour]

[RarityDash]

[colour=#330066]"Very sweet, Damask. You should consider yourself lucky that you life's ambition is so cleanly attributed and wonderfully remembered. Most colts can't remember that as well as you, so it is something you should continue to treasure. It'll serve you well."[/colour]

Damask blushed at little. Getting complimented by this mare, with her beauty, talent and intelligence was kind of abashing. He gave an awkward laugh and then nodded. [colour=#ff3366]"I'm not so sure it's so remarkable. The events surrounding one's cutie mark are something I'm sure everypony remembers vividly," [/colour]he said, modest.

[colour=#ff3366]"Some things one always remembers..."[/colour] he added with a sigh.

​

[colour=#330066]"Say what you will- [/colour][colour=#330066]but this place fills you up. I'm full. What are your plans for the night, Damask?"[/colour]

Damask downed the rest of his cider and nodded.[colour=#ff3366] "Well, in truth, I'm not much of a planner. If one gets too wrapped up in a plan one start to miss things, I find. I prefer to let things unfold as they will, and just enjoy the ride."[/colour]

[colour=#ff3366]"As such, tonight took me here, but I can't say I have the next destination entirely set,"[/colour] he said, steady. [colour=#ff3366]"What of your plans? Where might you be headed, Miss..."[/colour]

Damask paused and gave a small laugh as he came to a realization. [colour=#ff3366]"Heh... I never did ask your name..."[/colour] he started, smiling.

​

[SteelEagle]

It had been silly of her not to tell him her name, but rather arrogantly Octavia had believed that Damask must have known who she was to have gone ahead and taken the time to visit this dive. Well, that meant that word had traveled that there was something special happening and she had attracted at least one pony of reputable taste. Would more show up? That would make the client happy. That would make Octavia happy. And hopefully, that would make her fans happy. Everypony won in that scenario; let's strive for that.

[colour=#330066]"Octavia Trebleclef, my dear,"[/colour] Octavia said, extending her hoof.

He was right that a pony would remember one's cutie mark story, though she was a bit saddened by the realization that he had attributed his fond remembrance to that and that alone. The cutie mark story was a story anypony would remember, but everypony would also have one. Few ponies had such wondrous puppy love. Oh well; whatever he attributed it too, he was lucky to have ever felt it. Almost as lucky as her stomach was after feeling as full as it was now.

[colour=#330066]"I have no real plan for the evening. I was thinking about going home and heading to bed, actually. Canterlot can be such a bore at night!" [/colour]Octavia laughed heartily, as the capitol never lacked for something to do.

[Blueblood]

(Would you mind if I came in now?)

Damask had not been the only pony that rumors of musical virtuosity had brought to Galloway. Sitting rather nearer to the performer during the set had been another older colt, around Damask's age if not a little younger, dressed in immaculate evening clothes. The music had been the main attraction of the place, the food he regarded as merely an excuse for his occupying a table. He'd ordered, as a minimum, bread, jam, and tea, and was currently feeling curiously rather like a jam jar himself, full of a kind of wobbly stickiness. These sensations he'd been able to suppress, thanks to the support of Octavia's playing, but now that the set hand ended, they came over him again.

His alternative means of obtaining relief, a good talk, had been precluded by the unfortunate fact that he'd omitted to provide himself with a good conversational partner. Wordsworth Psmith, for it was he, sighed at the remains of his late-night repast. He did not feel equal to the task of mopping up, and elected to leave it to the waiters.

Having left the required bits on the table, he departed for the bar to see if there might yet be something else to say for this place, when he once again found the musician from earlier, talking to another colt. Psmith looked around, there seemed to be nopony else around, and if an opportunity opened up, he should very much like a word with Octavia himself. Several, actually. As many as politeness would stand, preferably. Keeping silent the whole evening had begun to oppress him.

A break seemed to come, and he proceeded inward, without the slightest hint of embarrassment. "[colour=#996699]I should not wish to appear rude, coming in at this juncture[/colour]," He started in, "[colour=#996699]But I did want to offer my own congratulations, and gratitude, before you left. You brighten the place, miss Octavia, you give it that touch of class which you carry about with you. It was certainly a privilege to be in the audience tonight, to hear you play upon the strings of- well, I don't know of what they're made, actually. I had heard that got the parts from dissecting cats, but I can't see it, myself. I don't class good musicians as capable of animal cruelty.[/colour]"

We might excuse his somewhat off-putting debut from the fact that he had bottled up speech all evening, and had let himself go at a rush, but the fact was that, for him, this was reticence. One point in his favour though, he had a rather pleasant voice, a smooth and civilized set of tones, that could continue for hours without grating on all but the most sensitive of nerves; his speech as well was light and easy, as one who had much practice at it.

[RarityDash]

[colour=#330066]"Octavia Trebleclef, my dear,"[/colour]

How fitting a name. Damask nodded. It was as elegant and classy as the mare it denominated, well also being suitably musical. [colour=#ff3366]"It's been just wonderful talking with you, Octavia,"[/colour] the colt said as he took the hoof offered and shook it gently.

​

[colour=#330066]"I have no real plan for the evening. I was thinking about going home and heading to bed, actually. Canterlot can be such a bore at night!"[/colour]

[colour=#ff3366]"I see. I do tend to agree. It's not really the town for nightlife,"[/colour] Damask replied with another nod to the mare's words.

In truth, he didn't have anything to do either but return home and face the scolding he'd get from his parents for staying out so late. He couldn't say he was particularly eager for that, but the night had been worth it he felt. To listen to this mare's music and then her words, it had left him inspired. There weren't a lot in the way of other options regardless.

[colour=#ff3366]"I'll probably return home myself,"[/colour] he said with a sigh, looking about ready to leave.

​

[colour=#996699]"I should not wish to appear rude, coming in at this juncture,[/colour] [colour=#996699]but I did want to offer my own congratulations, and gratitude, before you left. You brighten the place, miss Octavia, you give it that touch of class which you carry about with you. It was certainly a privilege to be in the audience tonight, to hear you play upon the strings of- well, I don't know of what they're made, actually. I had heard that got the parts from dissecting cats, but I can't see it, myself. I don't class good musicians as capable of animal cruelty.[/colour]"

The entrance of another colt into the conversation caused Damask to give pause. He studied the elegantly spoken colt closely. He looked to be a little younger than Damask was and had a very "academic" look about him. From his words and his appearance, the pegasus figured him for the stuffy intellectual type. Damask didn't really have a problem with that sort, even if he was a more loose and relaxed sort of pony himself. No, as somepony who enjoyed aimless philosophizing on occasion, this sort of academic was invaluable.

If nothing else, Damask found himself intrigued by this other colt and his precise speech. He was interested to see how Octavia might respond and where the conversation would go from there. At the least, it seemed worth sticking around just a while longer, if for no greater reason than simple curiosity.

​

[SteelEagle]

There were certain levels of praise that Octavia was prepared to accept and moreover was pleased to respond to. That connection she felt with her fans told her that above all else her music had the power, the force, that she felt it had internally. She was happy to connect. However, some levels of praise made her feel extremely uncomfortable and through no fault of his own, Wordsmith had made Octavia uncomfortable. What he spoke was truth. What he spoke was kind. What he spoke, plainly, made her feel uncomfortable through no fault of his own. Still, he was paying her a compliment and seemed a nice enough stallion, so she resolved to respond in kind.

[colour=#330066]"Thank you, Wordsmith, for your kind words. I do try my best to give a certain air of class to where I go, though the truest reward is in the success I have reached getting other ponies to feel the same power and majesty of music that I do," [/colour]She bowed to the fan as happy to see him as he was her in this regard. She then turned her attention to Damask.

[colour=#330066]"I was being sarcastic, silly. Canterlot has many wonderful things to do. Come, we can all go out and find something entertaining."[/colour]

[Blueblood]

The lavender colt gave a courtly bow, acknowledging the reception of his compliment. He could manage a kind of natural stateliness unusual in a school-aged pony. "[colour=#996699]That you have certainly done, miss Octavia. Some credit, of course, must be given to the impresario of this little nook for sponsoring your public performance. He has missed his true calling, he ought to be running a concert hall. It is a piteous situation, dear comrades, my heart bleeds for him.[/colour]"

He seemed to fall into reverie for a little while, before coming back to himself. "[colour=#996699]Ah, but I have neglected politeness. Allow me to introduce myself, my name is Wordsworth Psmith, though I prefer Psmith, spelled P-S-M-I-T-H. The 'P' is silent, like the tomb. Miss Octavia I know by reputation, and you are...?[/colour]" Psmith looked in Damask's direction, leaving open an opportunity of introducing himself.

The colt held himself ready to depart with the other two, including himself in Octaiva's 'we.' He slid off his seat, flicking an invisible speck of dust from the sleeve of his dinner jacket.