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Clear as Crystal (Roam; Closed for now-Inkbrand, Crystal Clear)


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Crystal Clear stowed the polishing cloth away beneath her little counter and turned to let her gaze search through the store, lingering joyfully on each scintillating facet and ray of light that poured through the wide front windows to diffuse through the many little glass trinkets and statuettes set out through the room. Aside from seeing the looks on ponies' faces when their hearts settled on one to take home, this had to be possibly the best thing Clear loved about her job--that minute of soaking in the shifting, radiant iridescence of soft whites, golds, blues, greens, pinks and purples made her feel more reverent and at peace than anything else she knew, as if the little store really had turned into a space straight out of the realm of dreams. Even during business hours she loved it for helping to emphasize the care and imagination each one of her works contained, and if it helped another pony to connect with that holy, inspired feeling she so dearly strove to evoke in their souls, then she would feel doubly fulfilled for having passed that inner beauty on.

Of course, running shop where she was meant that the majority of her customers--tourists or couples, mostly--didn't need much persuasion in taking home a pretty little memento of their visit. She certainly appreciated the business--and sometimes hearing of the relationships her craft helped to enrichen--but sometimes wished that, once in a while, somepony could come in and buy something not explicitly as a souvenir or love gift, but just purely out of admiration for fantastical beauty.

Ah, well, maybe someday. Someday, maybe when she packed up for Canterlot, she would start seeing more clientele like that. In the meantime, her unofficial souvenirs at least brought in a healthy income. Clear was not about to complain over that.

Satisfied that everything was pristine and orderly, the glassblower unicorn mare trotted over to the storefront, an aquamarine glow enveloping both her horn and the small sign hanging off the door before the latter magically flipped over, displaying an elegantly engraved Open to the world. Clear then returned to wait in patience behind her counter, ready to take on the day's first visitor to the Wishing Star Emporium.

((Temporarily closed to new members due to plotstuff happening, but once that is concluded the shop will once again be open to all accepted WoE characters! Feel free to have a character pop in then to browse, or even just to socialize, if you'd like! ^^ All ornaments displayed in the shop are available for purchase--at a price!))

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Inkbrand wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here.

 

That pretty much held true whenever he went out of town, exploring new cities and setting up potential business contacts. His reasons for visiting a place were usually crystal clear - what did he look like, a pony that had bits to throw around for travel? - but it was during these off days, waiting around for business and taking in the sights, that Inkbrand had to often stop and question his reasons for being wherever he was.

 

Which, at the moment, was in the middle of a plaza on one of Roam's many islands. Which also, subsequently, meant he was standing in the middle of several couples all intent on proving they were the most loving couple of them all.

 

That was all well and good, Inkbrand supposed - even if he couldn't stop the light rolling of his eyes as he passed by a particular couple, staring so deeply into each other's eyes it was a wonder their pupils didn't meld together in the fiery heat of their passionate love. There had been a time - and buck, did it suddenly feel like ages ago - where he'd toyed with the idea of bringing Radiant Star here for a miniature vacation. Both for a chance to "get away", and to score some major points, considering how nearly every mare he knew swooned for the city of love. Now, he was slightly grateful he'd never gotten that chance, what with the apparently very high chance of catching something ridiculously sappy.

 

None of that really mattered at the moment, however. All he cared about was killing some spare time, and that he happened to be in the city of love meant that time could be spent perusing wares that were undoubtedly catered towards the many coupled tourists. One shop in particular caught his eyes, causing the grey stallion's sharp golden gaze to travel consideringly over delicate trinkets and items centered in the show windows, before he mentally shrugged and stepped forward, barreling into the shop like it was his right.

 

Which it was, of course, being the customer and all.

 

And, possibly stepping straight into a story book. Inkbrand had to slow down almost immediately however, mouth falling open slightly at the sudden light show he received. It was a…glass?…shop, or at least, it appeared so. The myriad of different colors reflecting the sunlight from the windows cast an almost fluorescent glow around the shop, gentle and near ethereal. Behind the counter, a blue colored mare was standing watch, presumably the owner, and Inkbrand slowly entered a few more paces, casting his gaze from side to side as he quietly got over the shock and took in the wares.

 

Looks like he might be able to hit two birds with one stone, after all.

 

"Mornin'," the grey stallion called out cheerfully after a moment, a hopefully guileless and innocent expression on his face as he made his way towards the counter, careful to keep away from the undoubtedly delicate pieces of wares. "Can't say I've ever seen this shop before," Inkbrand continued, as if he were a native of Roam and knew each and every shop on each and every isle, "though I haven't been to this particular island for a while. Everything's pure glass?" he questioned, genuine curiosity coating his voice. It certainly seemed that way, but he wasn't exactly an expert on…whatever this way. Decoration making? Maybe the craftsman used some crystals and gems in his or her work.

 

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The tinkle of the bell above the door alerted Clear to the newcomer's arrival, and, turning her attention to the front, the mare got a good bit of warm satisfaction as the visitor had to practically stop and double-take--in a good way, it looked like--at what was around him. Any time a pony reacted like that to seeing her wares may very well have been a direct compliment to her craft, so far as she was concerned. On the other hoof, judging by the gray stallion's constrastingly tough and bold appearance, she did have a fleeting moment of concern over the safety of her ornaments--which found itself quickly abolished as the stallion began moving again with evident caution and care. That was alright, then.

"Mornin'," the stallion greeted, looking remarkably amicable for all his markings and pendants. "Can't say I've ever seen this shop before, though I haven't been to this particular island for a while. Everything's pure glass?"

"For the most part, yes." Clear smiled warmly, crossing her forehooves at the wrists atop the counter. "You'll find that many of them do have smaller gems worked into the design, but at heart each and every one is pure, hoof-blown glass." Perhaps, she reflected, the stallion was revisiting Roam following another trip some time ago? That could certainly explain the shop being new to him, if said trip had been before she'd opened up a couple years prior. "The shop is fairly new, so it's likely no surprise you don't remember it being here. In any case, do feel free to browse, and welcome," she added.

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"Hm?" Inkbrand murmured nonchalantly as his head continued to slowly swivel from side to side, not really paying strict attention to the mare's words as most customers were want to do, more focused on the sights his eyes roamed over. What pony entered a store to chat, after all, aside from the polite pleasantries society dictated take place near the beginning of a meeting?

 

"No wonder, then. Fairly sure I would have remember such a pretty shop, run by an equally pretty mare." The last was said almost through sheer force of habit alone in the store keeper's direction, lilting smile edging towards lecherous grin, but circumvented by a sparkle that suddenly caught his eye as the grey stallion veered off towards a corner of the shop.

 

It was - unsurprisingly - a glass piece that had caught his attention, and it took Inkbrand a moment to figure out why the small fixture had caught his attention in the first place.

 

It was unremarkable, comparatively speaking, on its own, in the midst of more vibrant and complicated pieces. It probably hadn't taken too much technical work on the part of the glass blower himself, but the delicate touches screamed the same finesse and care every other pieces did to Inkbrand's untrained eye. The tattoo-clad stallion trot forward still, critically eyeing the small decoration. If he wasn't mistaken, it was a mane piece, designed to attach somewhere around the skull area - maybe even hook around the ear to cradle the face. The asymmetrical design made it, more than likely, unsuitable for versatile use, but perhaps it was the off balance that really drew his eyes.

 

The spiraling shape of the entire piece, looking almost like swirls of magic or light, was rather eye catching. Reminded him of her.

 

After another moment of heavy consideration, Inkbrand pulled his head back around to catch the shop keeper's attention. He tilt his head to the side in a, "come over here" gesture, before turning to look back towards the display case until the mare came over to him.

 

"Whaddya think," he demanded once she was by his side, jabbing his head towards the item in question, "for a simple kind of gal? She's not real big into that, frilly dresses and designer stuff." Inkbrand waved a hoof vaguely through the air, as if that might explain exactly what "frilly dresses and designer stuff" was to the shop keeper, and thus help her determine if the piece was too feminine for the mare he had in mind.

 

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Clear barely paused at hearing the "pretty" quip tacked on at the end there. She was sure plenty of ponies would be shocked to learn it, considering where she hailed from, but despite having been a through-and-through Roam pony all her life and selling commonly to couples, she just frankly didn't put much stock in the idea of actually being in a relationship, nevermind all the extra lacey kerfuffle such things usually entailed. She supposed for other ponies it was considered important, but...she had just personally never seen much reason to get ruffled up over things like stallions calling her pretty. It was flattering when it happened, for sure--just not enough to really convince her to go encouraging said stallions to stick around for a while.

She did show a reaction, though, as the browser turned suddenly and made a beeline for one of the corner displays, and after a short time poke back into view to beckon her over. Curious, Clear made her way over to said corner of the store, taking in the stallion's question before looking thoughtfully at the manepiece in question. This admittedly wouldn't be the first time she'd crafted something similiar to this--although the store's image did lean heavily on the more spectacular of her wares, she did also like to balance that out some with some simpler and more mundane things as well--accessories, vases, small jewelry boxes and the like--for the customers who also looked for functionality in their purchases. It never hurt to cover more consumer interests, after all.

"I should imagine it wouldn't be considered too...'frilly'," she responded, giving a short little headbob in affirmation. "If it helps, I've sold a few of these before to ponies who weren't all that interested in more flamboyant pieces."

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Inkbrand nodded vaguely along with the shop keeper's explanation, though he wasn't really too keen on listening in. A salespony would say anything to make a sale, after all. Still, she sure as hay had a better idea of what would and wouldn't work on a girl than he did. His knowledge of female fashion pretty much extended as far as which mane styles were the sexiest, and not much farther than that.

 

"I dunno," the tattoo-clad stallion mused, more to himself than the shop keeper as he held the mane piece up towards a window, watching the crystalized pattern bounce back small rays of light, "still seems pretty girly to me. Not that she's really against this kind of stuff, but..." Inkbrand trailed off his train of thought, now seriously attempting to consider whether the piece was worth buying or not. She wasn't that colorful, so a clashing palette wasn't worrisome - but she was fairly stark. The mane piece was white with pale blue highlights, nothing outrageous or entirely colorful, but he still wondered if the faint hints of color would be enough to detract to much from her. There was a fine line between 'accentuated' and 'gaudy', after all.

 

A line he never crossed no matter how many times Wicked Rhythm insisted otherwise, thank you very much.

 

Realizing that all his thinking was starting to bore him, Inkbrand slowly set the piece back down in its place, eyes giving it one last glance over before trailing onto the mare next to him, lilting smile on his face. "Thanks for the help, doll," he said, taking a single step forward so he could look down on the mare better, "but I'mma shop around some more first." And by shop around, he meant heading out of those doors and never coming back again. Which is exactly what Inkbrand set out to do as he gave the mare one last toothy smile, until a series of very misfortunate events suddenly occurred.

 

Well, only one event really. But it may as well have been.

 

Inkbrand barely felt the bump against his hind quarters, to busy leering at the girl in front of him - but he heart the soft tinkling and trembling of delicate, and moreover costly, showpieces slowly dropping through the air. Acting on pure instinct, the grey stallion whipped around to grab at the display table, forelegs catching onto the edge. Hero that he was, he managed to save quite a few of them, but that didn't stop the ones on the opposite side from continuing on their path, arching in what felt like a slow-motion trajectory towards the floor.

 

'Well buck,' the tattoo-clad stallion thought, strangely calm and rational way as the first piece collided to unyielding floor and splintered off into a gajillion billion fragments. 'There goes my salt money for the rest of the year.'

 

Oddly enough, it was only after the figurative dust had settled that Inkbrand started to panic. Surely those had been all fairly cheap? They were all bunched up on the same table, not spread out to showcase each individual one. That meant that they had been cheap, easily replaceable glass-blown items, right? Right? The grey Earth Pony stared down at the mess for a while longer as he slowly removed his hooves from the table, as if that might prove he hadn't been involved in any way, shape, or form, and turned to look towards the shop keeper.

 

'Oh, buck me.'

 

"…On second thought," he said slowly, carefully edging back towards the mane piece he had first been contemplating, "I think I'll just…take this one here."

 

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Oh...Crystal Clear had seen that look before, that look when a pony decided not to make a purchase after all. Ah, well, this sort of thing was all ultimately up to the customer's tastes, and while she could try and make a good pitch to speak for her product, there wasn't much she could do to force somepony to buy without stepping into unsavory territory. Besides, she could still look forward to plenty more sales after this visit, so this one case wasn't job-ruining or anything. And so, when the earth pony stallion announced his decision, the unicorn merely smiled professionally and gave a graceful head bob in affirmation (though she had to crane her neck a bit to avoid poking anything with her horn and owing to how close overhead the stallion had brought his face). "Very well," she said, keeping her tone light to convey no ill feeling. "I hope you find what you're looking for, and have a good day."

Clear took a step back to put enough space back between them that she could turn around and head back to the front counter, ready to let the visitor go about his busin--

Bump.

...what. The unicorn halted, a visible, hair-raising shift cracking through her formerly pleasant demeanor in uneasy foreboding.

Tinkle.

...oh...no. Oh. No. Oh NO. OH NO OH NO OH NO there was that one ominous noise she had prayed never to hear, dear Celestia please NO!

Though from an outside perspective the speed with which she whirled around was probably admirable, the glassblower herself felt as though time and space themselves came together right in that horrible moment to weigh her down in invisible molasses and leave her incapable to act fast enough for anything but to watch the last few of the dislocated trinkets and figurines shatter on an unforgiving hardwood floor.

Time seemed to jolt sickeningly from a slow crawl to an outright freezing stop. All movement drained straight from Crystal Clear's limbs and into the floor, and for a while, the only thing she was really aware of was the wreckage of glass shards and dust glistening miserably in a suddenly feeble-feeling light.

Broken...hours of work, sweat, heat and detail-headaches...all those failed drafts it had taken to finally get each one just right...they had been so beautiful...and now--and now, oh Celestia, the floor, it was sure to be scuffed now, it would take forever just to get all the glass dust swept up, never mind treating the scratches on the wood floor--forget the floor, what about the glass?! The wares just lost--no! That was her art down there on the floor, art she had labored over and cherished and polished to the most pristine shine, and now it was all broken! BROKEN!

"...On second thought..."

Wait. There was another pony here...?

"...I think I'll just..."

Yes...yes, that was right. The stallion. The bump. The stallion had bumped the table. The stallion was why her lovely art was smashed, RUINED, across the floor right now.

"...take this one here."

The STALLION had done this.

The stallion had ruined her work!

As time began to creep back into action, so, too, did Crystal Clear's numb shock slide away, taking with it any clinging remains of anything resembling professional inhibition and sense and leaving only searing, red-hot fury. The glassblower's head whipped back around to fix a scalding glower on the gray pony.

"And what? And then you'll just trot on out of here? Is that it?!" Clear no longer recognized nor cared the size difference between them, that he could very likely get past a pony of her stature anyways, or that she was making a scene probably waaaayyy past what the actual facts of the damages actually merited. All she cared for was that this--this horrible thoughtless brute with his--his tattoos and chains and raggedy mane had come in here and practically shoved her wares onto the floor, and actually thought he could just--just LEAVE as though his hooves were clean of the matter! (Of course, that he had said he would buy one of her other pieces, for what it was worth now, had also failed to register at this point.)

"Look at that!" Clear seemed almost to have teleported for how she was suddenly up in the gray stallion's face, and for a blue-coated mare it was remarkable the shade of scarlet her face was turning as she jabbed a hoof viciously in the direction of the wreckage. "Look at what you've done! That is all profit AND effort that YOU WASTED IN MY SHOP! If you had any clue the time and effort that goes into even a single one of these--!"

The unicorn's horn suddenly glared a blinding aquamarine. At the front of the store, the sign hanging on the door flung itself violently over, clacking noisily against the glass before settling to brandish Closed at the world. Simultaneously, the stallion would have felt the invisible, magical equivalent of a fierce shove against his chest, herding him towards a door set at the back corner of the room as Clear moved to put herself between him and the most direct route of escape to the front entrance.

"You, are not going anywhere, not until you've set things right and helped me to fill that table again!" All Clear cared for now was that this pony make amends for his carelessness and contribute to fixing the (in her eyes) catastrophic mess caused. It didn't occur to her that by taking this path of action she was both cutting off business for any number of hours, AND essentially chain-ganging a visitor into forced labor who was all too likely to spread word of the ordeal amongst her consumer base afterwards--she just wanted JUSTICE! "So help me Celestia, if I have to keep you at the furnace the whole time until we've replaced every last one of these things then so be it!"

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Bucking buck buck. Was it too much to ask for a lack of drama in his life, just for one day?

 

"Look, I'm - " Inkbrand said, or tried to, completely drowned out by the upset and clearly irrational mare turning a rather fascinating shade of red, one that wasn't caused by his swaggering good looks and roguish grin. The shop keeper - shop, owner, crystal glass maker blower mare? Buck - didn't seem too eager to let up on her ranting, screaming into his face like she had just thrown her puppy over the side of a boat, and the grey stallion actually fell back a pace, voice rising in pitch with hers as he attempted to get one, bucking, word in, anyways! "I didn't mean - I'll pay the - if you'd chill out for one bucking minute! - "

 

No go. The mare was clearly in hysterics, lamenting a few cheap glass pieces like her life was ending. Which didn't explain why Inkbrand fell back another pace, ears nearly glued to his head, and leaned his body as far back away from the forked-tongued fire-breathing pony, with only the thought of the mare in front of him spouting another head keeping him aware of any other stupid display cases he might knock over - er, accidentally give a gentle tap to. Clearly the structural integrity of the display tables were not so thought out in this store.

And then he felt it. The telltale tug of his body moving against his own will.

 

Bucking unicorn magic.

 

"Alright alright, cool your flank!" the tattoo-clad stallion howled as he unceremoniously toppled through the door the magic was pushing him towards, landing flat on his face against the floor. Inkbrand hadn't even noticed it when he'd walked into the place, but the sudden intrusion against his personal will didn't distract him from the rather ominous knocking sound from the front of the store, presumably the lock sliding closed to outsiders. The grey stallion groaned as he got to his feet, shaking his mane out a bit, before abruptly whipping towards the mare with a curled lip and snarl. Was he really being foalnapped here? Personal property damage or not, she couldn't really expect to hold him captive here until he performed some manual labor for her!

 

…He could take her in a fight, magic or not.

 

A tense moment passed as the grey stallion considered how fast he might be able to get around the mare and out the door, before he suddenly let out a loud whoosh! of breath, stance visible slacking. "Look ba - miss," Inkbrand hazarded, rubbing the back of his head with one hoof, "I'm real sorry for the mess. It was just an accident." And he meant it, grudging but genuine repentance coating his voice. He was a small business owner himself, after all. Celestia knew if some punk stallion had bumbled his way into his tattoo parlor and messed up his work, there would have been hay in a hand basket to pay. "I'll…I'll pay for the damages. All of them." The words nearly set a grimace over his features, but Inkbrand managed to keep a steady face as his eyes darted back towards the door.

 

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Clear's magic had already snatched up a heavy, brown apron off a line of hooks next to the door, but the mare stopped just short of shoving that towards the glass murderer, something in his first uninterrupted attempt at apology seeming to cut through the screaming, mindless hysterics. Or at the very least, it reduced her to standing hunched inside the doorway, shaking and red-faced and heaving for breath, rather than outright roaring and stomping like she had been.

With the mare silent for a moment, there was perhaps better opportunity to take in the details of the room, if one cared--the furnace on the far wall, closed but already radiating heat, as if having been started some hours ago and left to fire up over the course of the day, paired with a stone trough filled with what looked like a pale mixture of sand and other various powdery substances. The long, ring-ended iron pipes secured vertically in a rack alongside a second, smaller furnace, another stone block with part of the top and edge cut away into a hollow space, the water barrel, and open bags of more colorful powders. And, farther away from the furnaces, a long table laid out with various colored rods, shears, tweezers, small gems and fixtures, and a small but hardy torch-lamp, evidently set up as a work station for smaller pieces or for adorning large ones with finer details. Compared to the scintillating, garnished elegance of the shop, the studio felt notably plain and hardy by comparison, with only a couple of broad windows to let in the sunlight and keep the room from looking plain drab and dim.

Remarkably, the words of apology actually did seem to sink into Clear's brain, at least enough for her to comprehend the meaning. But, although, she appeared to have deflated enough for actual, two-sided dialogue to take place, the mare was still obviously dominated by her blown-up emotions for the time being, as her expression still seethed with injured pride and fury.

"Oh, really? Really. You can really afford to pay anywhere from fourteen to twenty-two bits, each, for every single one of those broken pieces laying scattered out there right now?" she bit out with a tight throat. "Assuming, of course, that we're going by standard sell price and leaving out the materials and equipment usage costs?" Of course, she wasn't ready to just believe that this one stallion could happen to be carrying that kind of money on him right now, but in her injusticed eyes, it couldn't hurt to shoot out that rhetorical question, not after having poured the efforts of her very heart and soul into those things--and if it helped to further carry across the gravity of what had just happened and give him a well-deserved scare, then so much the better, as far as she was concerned.

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The buck? Equipment and materials usage were always covered in the standard sell price, weren't they? Otherwise what was the point in selling something for less than what it cost to make it?!

 

"Well I don't mean right this second!" Inkbrand scowled, flaring up again as he took a menacing step forward. That's it, he just needed to physical intimidate her a bit. He was a hot as piece of stallion, yeah, but no mare in her right mind liked being locked up in a secluded area with an unknown stallion, no matter the reasons they ended up there - that was just downright stupid. Almost like getting yourself salted up than staggering through through the dark alleyways of Manehatten, like outright asking somepony to mug you and steal all your bits.

 

Only it didn't seem to be working, buck it all - the mare was still stubbornly standing between him and his exit and not melting into a puddle of goo like she was suppose to be doing. Any other time, under any other circumstances, Inkbrand would have been pleased as punch to meet a mare that didn't burst into blushes and shy giggles and ducked heads at the slightest show of male interest…but this wasn't exactly the best of times to be appreciating her backbone. "I'll have to get it from my bank account and…and mail it to you, or something." More than likely, spend the bits to travel all the way back out here and deliver the money hoofs-on, because no way he would entrust a hunk of bits to some mail pony that would probably "lose" them along the delivery route. "Shouldn't take more than a week or so," Inkbrand added confidently, striding forward and past the mare - only to be hit square in the face by an ugly, oversized, heavy brown apron.

 

"Bucking hay in a underwater basket weaving son of a Tautarus spawned - !" The expletives flowed from his mouth as Inkbrand was unceremoniously pushed and prodded over to what looked like a work station, all without the mare lifting so much as a hoof to do so. Buck, he hated unicorn magic. Inkbrand barely managed to wrestle the apron from his head and slammed it down onto the workbench with one hoof, golden eyes blazing as he glared at the mare. "Fine," he spat, swiping up a blunt tool and holding it in a vaguely threatening manner. "Fine, we'll do this your way. Don't blame me if my masterpieces backfire in your face."

 

And he was only half joking. What did she seriously expect his help with? The fires were already going, and didn't seem to need a constant source to continue flaming. He'd never melded or melted anything either, and no way in Tautarus could she honestly be expecting him to take care of the delicate and minuscule touches that many of the pieces showcased. Exactly what sort of work was he suppose to be paying off when he didn't know the first bucking thing about glass blowing?

 

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"Good." The same magic promptly retrieved one of the ring-ended pipes from its rack, clanging it down into another rack facing the furnace, one designed to hold it horizontally while also allowing one to easily turn it by hoof. "There's a blowpipe, there's the furnace. You can start by gathering some of the molten glass in the ring--" Clear jabbed her horn in the direction of the furnace, the door swinging open to reveal a pool of red-hot melted sand contained inside. "--then returning the blowpipe to the stand and keeping it turning so the gather holds an even shape and doesn't droop." Well, at least the mare was saddling him with fairly straightforward, plain labor, rather than just plopping him down at the finer detailing station and ordering him to turn out a masterpiece. "I will be back with further instructions as soon as I've cleaned up that mess outside."

And that was that, apparently. The mare turned crisply on a hoof, a dustbin and broom floating up from next to the door to follow her out in time for said door to close and latch between the shop and the stallion. Confronted again with the miserable sight of glass shards strewn about the table's end, Clear actually felt a good chunk of her temper leak away to be replaced with a moment's defeated melancholy. They were just small things, yes, and no doubt other ponies would think it wasn't worth much in the long run--and hay, even the price of the things themselves was relatively trivial just by themselves--but...it was still work. HER work. Work she'd given up sleep over, had revised and refined and even sung to while cleaning it all. And now...there it all was, more suited to be recycled as furnace fodder than as anything truly worthy of being called art.

Not yet, though. It would be melted back down eventually, but--not now. She couldn't bear just yet to think of consigning these precious remains to the furnace. It would have to be after they'd been replaced and she could feel a little less guilt over getting rid of these broken things.

...assuming the stallion back there did work, of course. Was this really the best course of action to take after--? No. No. It was only fair, she told herself firmly to cut off any early niggling doubts. She'd already started this whole thing off, after all--there was no sense in not seeing it through. Clear gave a low sigh and began glumly sweeping up the pieces, resolving to search more carefully later for any loose glass dust between the floorboards. Same with any scuffs or scratches--she'd worry about that after this whole mess was over.

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  • 3 weeks later...
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The door swung closed after the mare, leaving a profound silence that was broken only by the soft bubble of molten hot sand. Inkbrand continued to stare at the door for another full minute, as if it might provide all the answers he was searching for, before slowly turning back to the bench, scowl permanently set into his face.

 

What the buck. It was like she had been speaking a different language!

 

The grey stallion glowered at the ringed metal piece like it was personally responsible for the entire situation that had him trapped in the back room of a glass blowing shop, before grabbing it with one hoof. Bucking unicorn magic. If she hadn't been a unicorn, Inkbrand could have easily tossed his head back, laughed in her face, and walked on out of there. At least he could have settled the bill with his hard earned bits. But no, he just had to get on a unicorn's bad side - an emotionally strung unicorn, to boot.

 

Inkbrand let out an aggrieved sigh as he bumped the metal ring against the tabletop for a moment, much like a young colt would a pencil in class. Options were severely limited to him right now - the fastest way to get out of this mess, aside from knocking the mare out and hoping her magic automatically unlocked the door due to unconsciousness, was getting all the manual labor out of the way. He could sacrifice an hour or so of his time in return for not having to pay for the damages.

 

…Buck. What had she said? Grab some sand.

 

With a resigned sigh, the grey stallion turned towards the furnace, scowl deepening as a blast of heat hit his face. Carefully, he inserted the metal ring into the furnace, slowly pressing it down into the sand before pulling it up and back out to reveal his prize - a thin circle of molten sand clinging to the ring. "Done," Inkbrand declared as he held the ring over the workbench, before knocking at his mind to come up with the second set of instructions. Set the blowpipe back on its stand…easy. And then…keep turning it so that it…what. Expanded evenly?

 

With a mental shrug, Inkbrand did just that, frowning at the glass as it began to take shape. Was it suppose to come out like an oval? Or…more like a lopsided, over-inflated 'L'? The end furthest away from him was drooping off, causing the tattoo-clad stallion to pick up his rotating speed. Which, seemed to have absolutely no effect, either way. But it still looked decent, Inkbrand decided as he set the blowpipe down, not entirely sure what to do with it.

 

Well hay, that was easy. Emboldened, Inkbrand picked up a new blowpipe and set about making another blob of glass, feeling rather pleased with himself. He'd always been a fast hoofs-on learner, anyhow.

 

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  • 5 weeks later...

Eventually Clear had to admit that she wasn't likely to sweep up all of the glass dust up anytime soon--not if she wanted to get back into the studio and make sure things were going as they should be. Making a note to quickly finish up the finer details of clean-up before opening shop again, the unicorn levitated the dust bin and its fragile contents gingerly alongside herself, trudged her way back to the workroom...

And promptly made a stricken little noise and bolted straight over to where the first blowpipe lay, the broken figurines momentarily forgotten and dumped into a nearby box.

"Oh no, oh no oh no oh no oh no--" Inkbrand would find his presence momentarily disregarded as a frantic Clear hastily stuck the pipe back into the furnace, shoving it notably further into the molten sand pool before coming back out with a glob straining to slip out from inside the ring at the end. The unicorn then returned the pole to its turning rack, foregoing magic in favor of rapidly rotating it with her own hooves.

"I think I should have clarified," she let out once she was assured the previous gather was still fluidly malleable alongside the new, her tone less harsh in the afternote of this recovery, "the gather needs to be inside the ring, or it won't properly form into a workable shape. You can leave that one for now--" She bobbed her head at the other blowpipe. "--just come and turn this one now, as I'm doing. I'll need you to keep doing that until I tell you to pause so I can shape it as needed. I'll take care of the gemstones and other additions later--let's just get the main form of these done, and then we can consider this ample restitution and go our separate ways."

Clear then carefully released her hold on the blowpipe, nodding for the stallion to take over, and moved aside to belatedly don her own apron from the doorhook. With that, and a few select tools such as thick iron shears or a pair of pincers floating their way into her apron pockets, the mare returned to her former station at the furnace, pausing to level her horn pointing at the molten blob and magically balloon it out into a hollow almost-sphere shape.

"Flower vases are basic enough for a start. We'll start with replacing the two that you knocked onto the floor--keep turning."

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  • 2 weeks later...
Frdnlm6.png
 

…Well, he thought he'd been doing swimmingly.

 

Inkbrand found himself unceremoniously jostled to the side to avoid getting touched by an undoubtedly still smoldering hot piece of iron, one shoulder raised in a parody of protection as the mare hastily stuck the blowpipe he had just finished making straight back into the furnace. The grey stallion idly wondered if he might burn off her backside with his glare as she seemed to repeat the exact process he had just gone through, but before he could finish contemplating that thought, she was suddenly pulling the blob back and turning it on what looked like a spit.

 

The grey stallion silently watched as the mare continued turning and talking, eyes narrowing as the blob took shape very, very delicately, like a piece of blown-up bubble gum that looked about to pop at any second. Seriously, he felt like he could just poke a hoof into the sphere and send it flying. Inkbrand resisted the urge to do just that however, golden eyes trailing from the now spherical glass sculpture up towards the mare's face, slightly illuminated and framed by the harsh glow of the furnace. So intent was he studying the action, Inkbrand was almost startled when the mare suddenly turned back to him, instructing him to continue turning the glass sphere on its spit.

 

"Fine, fine," the grey stallion muttered, though more to simply grumble about something as he moved to replace the mare at her station. Inkbrand immediately began twisting the rod to speed up the process, but with a quick and sudden glance back at the mare, slowed down his pace to better mimic the one she had set. Eyebrows furrowed low over his forehead, Inkbrand watched intently as the sphere continued to expand in the same general form of a sphere.

 

Like he'd said! Easy.

 

"A couple vases and I'm all good, huh?" the tattoo-clad stallion called out over his shoulder, though he kept his gaze on the molten sphere he was continuing to turn and shape. That was a rather pleasant surprise - Inkbrand had been certain he'd had to work a leg and a hoof off to repay the damages. But simply turning molten glass over and over for a hoofful of shapes didn't sound too bad…even if the motion was starting to quickly become very boring. Inkbrand grimaced slightly, his gaze starting to wander over onto the unicorn again as she slipped an apron over his body, seemingly getting ready for that detail work. "Don't suppose you've got a magazine or something I can read while I'm doing this."

 

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  • 8 months later...

Frdnlm6.png

 


No response.

Well fine then. Sticking his tongue out at a mare's backside while she was safely turned the other direction wasn't exactly one of his finer moments, but Inkbrand could honestly not bring himself to care as he turned back to the oven, carefully rolling and rotating the glass. If she wanted to work in silence, fine.

But that didn't mean he had to.

"I can't fight this feeling, baby, of wanting you so badly, BABY!"

In a relatively short amount of time, a few passable vases had been constructed, causing Inkbrand to stand back and admire them for a while. "Buck, this isn't so hard," he crowed, leaning forward to take a closer look at the pale blue one he'd just finished making. Of the four vases, it was the prettiest and most even, not one air bubble to mar the look. "Bet I could do this in my sleep now," he added with a chuckle, one that was quickly transformed into a cough as he glanced towards the shop owner still working away on the finer details.

Seeing how she seemed disinclined to continue her hostage excursion however, the tattoo-clad stallion slowly pulled the apron over his head, eyeing the mare warily. "Right, so," he began slowly, taking small steps towards the door and freedom, "I'mma just…I'll send you the bits for the damage. 'Spect maybe a week or two."

…Good?

Apparently, she wasn't making any move to stop them. Inkbrand watched her for a moment more, certain he was about to feel the hated tug of Unicorn magic, before turning and walking out the door at a clipped pace.

Luckily for him, the door to the shop was no longer locked either, and Inkbrand took a moment to take a deep breath and feel the cool breeze against his coat, only just now noticing how stifling the forge area had been. A languid grin crossed his face as he began walking past the shops again, eager to salvage the day that had been ruined - but stopped, despite himself, glancing back towards the glass shop, brows furrowing slightly.

Maybe if…

…Nah.

"Bucking crazy, bud," Inkbrand muttered to himself, giving his head a quick shake as if to dislodge all inane thoughts from it, and continued on his way, steps just a little less jubilant than they had been only a few hours ago.

 

 

 

[[ Exit ]]
kafyBGS.jpg

 

 

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