Inkwell

[colour=#e32636]Rose turned and smiled at Martini as Staccato gave his drink a curious glance. "Well, I think I'd like a white wine spritzer, myself. Nothing too heavy on the liquor. I want to be able to walk and talk when I get out of here." She smirked and looked at her companions. Experience had taught her that while it was fun to get soused up once in a while, it could be far more entertaining to see other ponies drunk with a sober eye. Granted, it could turn into an annoying disaster, but she had to admit, she was curious to see what would happen if Staccato had one too many glasses of his precious absinthe.[/colour] [colour=#954535]"Mmm, sensational!" Staccato said, setting his drink down with a missing tablespoon of liquor. "I wasn't expecting alcohol of this caliber from this particular establishment at all! Tell me, have you ever served at a formal, high society event before?"[/colour] [colour=#e32636]Rose's face lit up. "Yeah, she has! We saw each other at the Grand Galloping Gala that one time, didn't we?" Her memories of the event weren't clear, but she definitely saw Martini tending bar at the event. Truly this was a small world. Before Staccato could ask Martini any more questions about that job, Cadence piped up with a dreadful question. Rose hadn't realized how much she was dreading it until it came up. The princess had gotten him started and he wouldn't stop without Rose's help. "Here we go..."[/colour] [colour=#954535]"Ah, your highness, of course I have inspirations!" Staccato said, looking livelier than ever now that the conversation had turned in his favour. "Creativity does not merely spring fully formed from the brow, after all. It comes from intimate knowledge of the media form you choose to work in, and the artists that came before. Even if you mean to innovate and differentiate yourself from prior artists, it helps to have intimate knowledge of the rules you intend to break." His eye turned to the stony expression on Rose's face, causing him to give Cadence a nervous chuckle. "Now, I could go on about my inspirations, but I think perhaps some summarizing is in order. "Now, classical music was the very first genre I was introduced to. I was enjoying classical compositions since before my very first memory, thanks to my family's preferred method of raising young foals. I admit that I've lost touch with the genre somewhat on account of discovering every other genre in my adolescence, but I do come back to it from time to time. I am a violinist, after all. But my favorite classical composer of all is the great Maestro."[/colour] [colour=#e32636]"Is that family bias speaking?" Rose asked.[/colour] [colour=#954535]Staccato coughed. "Rose is referring to the fact that our family, a long and illustrious line of artists and artisans, sprung from Maestro's loins centuries ago. I admit, it is impossible to separate my fondness for his musical compositions from my gratitude to him for the dynasty he founded, but the fact remains that his compositions remain ubiquitous to this day. They are works of beauty, and he was only an adolescent himself when he created them! He sadly passed away before he reached my current age, barely managing to marry and produce children before his untimely death. "But moving on to more contemporary musicians, the main inspiration I draw upon for lyrical dexterity is Robert Featherstone. Now, Aquellian and Equestrian musical cultures are distinct entities, but there's a reason that Featherstone was at the forefront of the first 'griffon invasion.' Not only were his lyrics case studies in careful word choice and economy, they had a galvanizing quality that made him a favorite figurehead of counterculture movements of the time." He abruptly shifted into a loud, sonorous singing voice. "Come gather 'round, people, wherever you roam, and admit that the waters around you have grown~"[/colour] [colour=#e32636]Rose put her hoof to Staccato's shoulder. "Yeah yeah yeah, we all know the song, Stacky."[/colour] [colour=#954535]He folded his ears back and smiled. "My apologies, Rose."[/colour] [colour=#e32636]"I never really liked Featherstone's voice," Rose said with a shrug. "It's really too raspy, but I kinda feel bad saying it. It can't be too easy, singing with a beak."[/colour] [colour=#954535]"Admittedly, his voice is an acquired taste. Luckily, he is perhaps the most covered musician in all of history, so you have plenty of alternative singing voices to choose from. As I was saying, though his most influential and best work is fifty years old, he still continues to make the occasional, excellent LP today. I highly recommend his ouvre. "But Featherstone's down-to-earth, socially conscious music is only one flavour of song. As the current mainstream market suggests, there is a huge amount of appreciation for spectacle and exuberance. I'm sure you've at least heard of the lavishly ludicrous performances of Neon Pop; though I think she indulges in pretension a touch too often, she is a talented musician who occasionally nails the visual accompaniments to her music perfectly. But I digress, and I recommend Stardust Soul as the gold standard for this particular variety of music"[/colour] [colour=#e32636]Rose smiled. "He's one of the only musicians I can talk about with Stacky and have it not feel like a one-sided conversation."[/colour] [colour=#954535]Staccato nodded, using a foreleg to pull Rose into a comfortable, side-to-side embrace. It made her stare at him, but soon her smile returned, slightly shakier. "Stardust Soul has used science fiction motifs in his music to great effect, which is what drew Rose to his music in the first place. I admire him for his theatricality, for the frequency and ease with which he reinvents his musical and stage persona. He embodies a versatility that I hope to someday achieve in my own career."[/colour] [colour=#e32636]"You just wanna play dress-up, don't you?" Rose said in the most facetious tone of voice she could manage.[/colour] [colour=#954535]Staccato had chosen that time to take another sip of absinthe, and her remark made him choke on his drink, spurting drops up his nose. He swallowed and took a few seconds to clear his throat. He gave Rose a level glare, then broke out into a grin. "That isn't the whole of it, Rose, but yes, I surely wouldn't mind performing in costume."[/colour] [colour=#e32636]"Are you finished?"[/colour] [colour=#954535]"Not quite. I have one more I must mention. In the last decade, no artist has impressed me more than Peppermint Whorl, of The Peppermints. The Peppermints are naturally the most famous band Whorl's been attached to, being at the forefront of an impressive blues-rock revival that sadly never entered the public consciousness outside the music world. But his other bands, The Troubadours and The Cloudkillers, are also amazing and underrated, and of course he may well have topped himself with his first solo album last year." Staccato paused, then matched his cousin's stare. "Now I'm finished."[/colour] (The musicians Staccato named are ponified versions of Mozart, Bob Dylan, Lady Gaga (in a reference to another character on the boards, natch), David Bowie, Jack White, The White Stripes, The Raconteurs, and The Dead Weather respectively.)

Just out of curiosity, would you say the same thing if, say, Applejack had an accident with her tractor and became character background for a story about Apple Bloom dealing with the trauma of losing her beloved older sister? That's probably a little harsh, and it's pretty ridiculous that I'm so protective of my favorite pony, but it's just how I feel. And please reread my post on this subject again. I clearly said that there are many wonderful, beautiful, quality stories that hinged on death, grief and coping out there which don't rely on a beloved character getting killed by the Outer Limits fairy. I also seem to remember the fans getting pissed off when Hasbro tried to brush over Optimus's death with whoever was supposed to replace him. I would be mad too if the inevitable passing of the torch from Twilight to whoever's next had happened with her dying thanks to miscalculating a spell. She could have given her life to save her friends, the princesses, and all of Equestria, but no. The greatest magical talent Equestria's seen in years forgets to carry the two and blows herself up, and her friends might be guilty of mareslaughter too. Joyous day.

I do not partake of My Little Pony products to get a miserable, morbid ending. There's quite a lot of other stories out there that deliver that sort of thing much more marvelously. But I won't stand for it here, and especially not with Twilight's death. So unless this is a prelude to her friends venturing into the underworld to bring her back to the land of the living, I'm going to have to pass on this one. Actually, that's not a bad idea. I want to write a story about that.

Oh, I definitely like this one. The art was off, though. In some cases I could see the hind legs of ponies bending the wrong way, the way you'd expect someone who'd never looked at a horse's hind legs to draw them. But the story was nice enough that I could overlook that. It's nice to see that Twilight loves reading fiction as much as she does nonficion. While I was reading the discussion on Equestria Daily, there were a few people who were very disappointed that Twilight was so dismissive of Jade Singer's taste in music. They said it was out of character for her. I'm not really seeing it. Musical taste is a tricky thing to predict. For instance, I would have preferred it if Twilight was singing Somebody That I Used to Know, but them's the breaks.

That was beautiful, dude.

[colour=#e32636]Rose sighed and started tucking her copy of History's Greatest Horror Stories into her saddlebags. From what she'd seen of the tome's contents, the title was a bit of an exaggeration, but she didn't expect anything less from an anthology. Despite that, it was worth the price, and she'd have to get back to it once this meeting was over.[/colour] [colour=#954535]"Of course, of course, your highness!" Staccato replied, smiling at the princess with perfect, white teeth. Deep down in his chest he felt a deep sense of excitement. This was turning out to be a much better day than he could ever have dreamed! He had never met a member of the royal family in his life, and oh, what doors this could open for his new enterprise! Word from Cadence's mouth would propel him to the heights of stardom just as soon as he had a musical to promote. Yes, that was the rub, wasn't it? "Who doesn't know your name? I am Staccato di Maestro, of Trottingham." He bowed his head, making the gesture as opulent as he could without falling off of his stool. His eyes passed from Cadence to the red unicorn in black. The smile on his face relaxed, moving from the constraint of excitement at meeting a social superior to the warmth of familiarity and closeness. There was only one pony she could be. "Rose, darling, you look stunning," he told her.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]Her ears folded back. She felt her heart floating in her chest. Did Staccato realize that he was talking to her in words best reserved for a flirtatious young couple? Oh, what a disaster this could turn out to be. She decided to defuse it immediately, giving Staccato a smile in return. "Heheheh, you might want to turn down the charm just a little, Stacky. Ponies could get the wrong idea."[/colour] [colour=#954535]The implications of what Rose said struck Staccato like a kick to the face. "Oh! I beg your pardon, Rose, you're completely right!" So embarrassed was he that he barely even noticed the tacky little nickname Rose gave him. "Though I refuse to take the compliment back entirely. Your dress is lovely, and I must learn where you got it one of these days." But that could wait until later. The princess had invited him over to their table, and even offered wine to drink. "Well, your highness, it's not my preferred drink of choice, but I trust you to pick out a delectable vintage regardless of my own tastes. And I'd gladly accept your offer, though I was looking forward to making conversation with a Canterlot barten-" Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed an absence. With a turn of his head, Staccato discovered that the bartender had left his position since he struck up a conversation. "-der. Well, this seems highly irregular."[/colour] [colour=#e32636]"Yeah, now's about time for the end of her shift," Rose explained. "But don't worry, the new bartender should be coming around right about... now." She looked around the bar, her brow furrowing as it became clear that she wasn't finding who she was looking for. "Okay, now that's irregular. She ought to be here by oh wait there she is." Rose turned to face the back door, which opened to reveal the new bartender for the night.[/colour]

[colour=#e32636]Even before she realized that it was Princess Cadence sitting down next to her, Rose flinched, her heart leaping up to her throat. Seconds passed before she realized that there was nothing to be afraid of. Her open book got a brief glare from her for tensing her up that badly. Stupid scary stories and their atmospheres of dread, putting her off-balance and making her jumpy.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]"Hey, Cadence," she said, smiling a bit. "I... yeah, tonight's a wine night for me. There's a time and place for liquor but I thought I'd be better off with a clearer head tonight." She reached for the bottle to take a swig, before she remembered that she technically hadn't even ordered any wine yet. "Just a little something to take the edge off."[/colour] [colour=#e32636]Looking into Cadence's eyes some more, she couldn't decide on whether or not her presence was a good thing. She had originally planned on meeting Staccato one on one, no friends or acquaintances getting in the way of their conversation. But now her carefully concealed nerves were starting to show, and Rose decided that she could use some support, somepony to help share in the attention, and who better to do that than a famous princess? Staccato would doubtlessly have just as many questions for her as he did Rose.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]"Okay, try and keep this on the down low, but I'm really nervous. You know my cousin, the one I said was working on an opera and a musical at the fudge shop?" It was perfectly possible that Cadence had not heard her say that since she was talking to Duke Polaris, but that didn't matter. "Well, he wants my help writing it and he's coming here to meet me. I've never actually met him in person! We've just exchanged letters, and this is gonna sound silly, but I'm worried about what he'll be like. He seems... intense." No pony who wrote lengthy dissertations on the origins of modern jazz should use so many exclamation points in his letters.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]Just then, the door opened, and Rose looked up, the process of checking a pony coming in having become a reflex at this point. The stallion who walked in was a far cry from all the others. He was, in a word, gorgeous. Pretty, immaculate, and handsome, in a few more. He wore a perfectly-tailored suit in an earthy shade somewhere between green and brown, had his striped hair brushed and layered, and what little specks of dirt there were on his coat lay on his hooves, which he was brushing off with his magic. This was a stallion of class, completely overdressed for the Ponyland bar or anywhere that wasn't the Grand Galloping Gala. He was so pretty she was surprised the mares in the bar weren't flocking to him like pigeons. Somehow all that was enough to tell her that her cousin had arrived, and that was before she saw the violin case at his side.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]"It's him!" she whispered to Cadence, looking over in his direction. "Would you mind staying with me and helping me talk to him?"[/colour] [colour=#954535]Staccato di Maestro had not noticed his cousin as she did for him, instead looking around and taking in the atmosphere. In stark contrast to how a society pony would typically act, he seemed to enjoy it, and he made a beeline for the bartender. "Please excuse me, madame," he said in a pleasant, cheerful voice. "I'm afraid I'm new to this establishment, and as such I'm unfamiliar with your inventory. Might you have any absinthe available?" He looked around at all the other ponies in the bar. "And do you perhaps know where miss Rose Madder is sitt...ing..." His eyes fell on Cadence, recognizing the famous princess almost immediately. "Well now, this is a pleasant surprise!"[/colour]

[colour=#e32636]Of course, since Ingrid Marie knew what Rose looked like in the flesh, she immediately caught on that she was the distorted mare on the cover of Dispatches. Rose cleared her throat. "Well, funny story there. My brother was the one who drew that. See, he kind of got a deal where he's making illustrations for books, inside and covers, at the same publishing house I've got a contract with. So I thought I'd do him a favour and let him draw the covers for my books. I basically gave him free reign to draw whatever he wanted, since he knows his stuff and I can't draw for beans." She laughed.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]"Anyway, by the time I figured out that it was me he was drawing on the cover and that it would risk ponies knowing what I looked like, the whole thing was finished. It just looked so awesome that I didn't have the heart to ask him to do it over or redraw the mare as somepony else." This wasn't technically true. The two of them had gotten in a minor argument about that very issue, and it made Rose reconsider just how far she was willing to let this secret identity thing extend. Would she go so far as to dye her mane and coat to appear at conventions, magically modify her voice, disguise herself completely, all because she didn't trust her fans? Inkwell convinced her that since she basically introduced herself as Black Orchid to every pony she met in person, there wasn't much point in hiding it. In the end, her ego won out. "So that's the painting that went through and onto the cover of the book."[/colour] [colour=#e32636]Marie was also curious about the way she signed her autograph. Rose inhaled again, ready to go off on another tangent. "Oh, that? Well, I was actually inspired by Canterlot's underground comic scene. This city has a lot of neat underground comic artists who do interesting experimental work. Most ponies only know comics as vehicles for pulp entertainment stories like Daring Do or Supermare, but there's a lot of potential in combining words and images. Granted, some of it is messy and confusing, dare I say even embarrassing, but I always get the sense that the artists are trying to pull off something new, something that means something to them, and honestly I'd rather get that out of something than knowing that the creator was just going through the motions, wishing he was making just about anything else instead. Contractual obligations and all."[/colour] [colour=#e32636]She gave the autograph another glance. "Some of my favorite artists in the medium took to literally combining words and pictures, usually in their signatures, and so I decided to practice my own. I'd love to try writing a comic book like that except, like I said, I can't draw. I'll have to see if I can convince my brother to help me out there, but he's mostly experienced with single images, not sequential ones."[/colour] [colour=#e32636]With a shrug, she closed the cover of the book for Marie. The ink seemed dry enough. "Anyway, now that we've got the fun part over with, we should probably talk about when and where my first lesson's gonna be. Do you make house calls?"[/colour]

[colour=#e32636]Ingrid Marie bumped her hoof, and Rose had to suppress a giggle, creating an ache in her muscles that could only come from resisting the temptation to give into hilarity. She hadn't seen a hoofbump this awkward and stilted since she tried it out with her own mother years and years ago. Now that Rose thought about it, Marie was easily old enough to be her mother, and yet had outed herself as a gleeful fan of her work. That fact was so surreal that Rose had to chuckle at it. Hopefully Marie wouldn't take that as an insult.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]But she herself was chuckling soon after that, as she built up the suggestion that Rose give her a signed copy of Dispatches from Beyond the Veil. "Well, since you asked so nicely, how could I refuse?" she asked with barely restrained mirth. "I'll go get one!" She tried her best not to prance while going to the front of the store, since she was sure that if she jumped too high in this mood she'd float off into the sky and stay up there all day. An autograph! Somepony had asked her for her autograph! It was a day she'd anticipated for years (along with the day she got on the bestseller's list, the day she landed a publishing deal, the day she won her first award, and so on), and now it was finally here![/colour] [colour=#e32636]She bounded up to the front of the store to the Black Orchid display, with both of her books on display. For both of them, she'd taken care to select an amazing cover that would catch the eyes of ponies and serve as a good work of art in and of itself. Her novel, A Single Note, featured a black and white drawing of the protagonist desperately reaching out for a mare who sat slumped and despondent in the corner. He fought valiantly against ink tendrils of darkness that sprouted from the dark borders of the image and held him back, but it was clearly a losing battle. The entire image was drawn in stark detail, with no shades of gray and linework that evoked an oppressive, uncomfortable feeling.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]The cover of Dispatches brought back the colour its predecessor lacked and then some. Most of it was dominated by Rose's own face, though thanks to the anonymity of her author persona the casual viewer wouldn't know it was her. It could have been any mare, really. Said face stared directly into the viewer's soul, eyes wide open and distorted so that they'd look bigger, like Rose was staring through a distorted fish-eye lens that was way too close to her. The rest of her face looked relaxed, and judging by her slack jaws, it looked like she had completely zoned out, the thoughts in her head drowning out any outside stimulus.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]If the viewer needed further evidence of it, they could look to the eyes, which had no pupil or iris, instead displaying a wide panorama of images from the stories contained in the book. Rose's personal favorite was the mare staring, horrified, at her own hoof, which had somehow turned into a gnarled, wicked-looking set of claws. Runners up included a stallion wrapped head to toe in something black, tight, and shiny, a couple kissing so hard that their mouths appeared to be physically merging, and a second stallion, with plush cloth skin and button eyes, idly toying with the zipper on his stomach.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]Rose was proud of the metaphor that she conveyed with that commission, though her smile dampened when she remembered one or two critics pointing out how obvious and on the nose it was. She thought it was just fine, thank you, though they were entirely correct in pointing out that she had given away her face to the public she was trying to screen herself from. Rats. At least it was a fun commission to order (she still kept the original paintings of both covers at her place), and the actual contents of the book had no problems whatsoever.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]The inside front cover of the book was blank, providing the perfect space for her to provide her autograph. Rose took out her inkwell and calligraphy pen and applied the first steps to drawing the intricate signature of Black Orchid, a process well engraved into her magic memory. In preparation of this day she'd practiced autographing, making changes to the design with each iteration, until she got it down right. The resulting sigil looked slick and exact enough to have come from a printing device, and looked like a series of shadows that bled together and didn't look like letters at first until you looked at them the right way. Perfect.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]Rose's bright red aura surrounded the book and passed it over to Marie, before she heard an annoyed cough. Turning her head, she saw the face of the clerk at the front of the store, who had seen her deface a book without paying for it first. "Oh, right, heheh. Whoops." She took it back to the front desk and fished out the bits to pay for it. "Alright, there, now it's yours," she told Marie, passing the book back. "Give it a minute to dry, okay?"[/colour]

[colour=#e32636]Ponyland was a quite a unique location for Rose to have picked out for the meeting she had planned with her cousin. It wasn't the normal kind of bar Rose frequented, the kind that were normally populated by "cool" ponies her age, ponies who were too hip for any other kind of room. Not this one. The most frequent visitors to the bar were members of the Equestrian military. They showed up every weekend like clockwork, like they could only pick up a refill of life-saving medicine here. She didn't really mind them, since she used to date a pony who she heard had made Sergeant last she heard, but there wasn't a whole lot of common ground she could find with them. Conversations turned awkward when she revealed her ignorance of military drills and tactical maneuvers, or when they steered the conversation to sports and away from her precious books. Still, this bar had a pretty unique atmosphere to it, and that was precisely why Rose had invited her cousin to this bar in particular. Even after they'd been exchanging letters for several months, maybe even a year, Rose still didn't know how to feel about Staccato. She knew how to feel about her extended family in general: a light touch of contempt and bitterness. They were all snobs who turned aside her mother and cut her off because she dared to have a non-artistic special talent and marry a common roofer. She didn't need any of them, and she could feel the insincerity dripping from every last one of the letters they sent, telling her what to do and giving her unwanted career advice. But Staccato was an exception. Though he still wrote in the painfully formal, stilted way that all the other Trottingham Maestros did, he gave her his unconditional support and loved talking to her about his interests. Whenever she asked him a question about his particular line of work, composing music, he would explain the answer in the most extensive, detailed way possible. It weirded her out a little. Then he actually made her an offer: help work with him on the musical he's going to make. And in order for them to do that effectively, he said, he was going to go on vacation in Canterlot. For the first time in their entire lives, they would be able to meet each other in the flesh. They would learn what the other looked like. So naturally, Rose wore her best black dress (she had no dresses in any other colour scheme), her fancy shoes, and the headband with lace. That outfit was just about as frilly as she was willing to get, but it also looked pretty sleek and cool too. It fit her well, she thought, and it was just about the best way she could imagine to make a good first impression on him. Arriving early was another way she could think of to make a good impression, but sadly she ended up arriving too early, over an hour thanks to her misunderstanding the scheduled time. How did Staccato manage to make a six look like a five in his penmanship? Thankfully she brought a huge book of short stories with her to read. Her eyes occasionally moved up from that book to look at the front door whenever it opened, to check and see if someone matching her mental image of Staccato would walk in.[/colour]

[colour=#e32636]By the time Rose received a reply from Luna, she had completely forgotten she'd sent the princess a letter in the first place. That didn't last long; the memories flooded back into her mind the instant she saw the postmark. She felt as if her heart was in her mouth when she opened that letter and read it word by word. The first thing that occurred to her was an embarrassment at comparing her lapse in paying attention to underground music to Luna being separated from the whole world for centuries. Being reborn, as her majesty put it, was really the only way to handle her situation, now that Rose thought about it. After all, Rose's entire career and way of life - publishing houses, book deals, perhaps even the idea of universal literacy itself - were inconceivable in the days when Nightmare Moon was first banished. Luna's letter, and her failure to answer Rose's questions about comebacks, left the unicorn at a bit of a standstill. She'd gotten it in her head to get some kind of inspiration or material from Princess Luna ever since she sent that letter, but the princess wasn't making it easy for her. So she couldn't revive one of her majesty's favorite forms of stories for a new age, given the relative incompatibility of oral storytelling to novels... or could she? Soon Rose was pacing from one side of her living room to another, ideas filling her head again. There was always something to be said for stories within stories, an examination of the pros and cons of oral storytelling in relation to novels. Maybe somepony could tell variations on the same story that got mutated with each telling. She'd have to dig up the few ancient epics that survived this era, but it could be done, it could be done very easily if Rose kept working at it. As she walked, she could feel the ideas slipping out of her mind, and immediately started to take notes. She had riddled both sides of a page with ink when another idea struck her regarding the princess. She could tell the story of how it felt to be radically shunted in time, though the idea of embellishing the princess's real life didn't sit well with her. No problem! That called for an alternate world entirely. And what if there was more than one such displaced individual? What if they went into the past as well as the future? She kept writing down her ideas for hours, until she started yawning and feeling lightheaded. Before she knew it, it was already bedtime. More concrete writing would come tomorrow. And besides, Rose thought as she tucked herself into bed, perhaps she could see Luna in her dreams again? Hopefully this time they'd be less... revealing.[/colour]

[colour=#e32636]Rose thought she knew how this conversation was going to go. Even though she knew that ponies never really stopped learning until the day they died, the bulk of learning too place in childhood, and Rose hadn't been a child for a long time. The rat race of her daily life, though it was so much better than any other job she could think of, was always a drain on her time, and what time it didn't strictly require it politely asked for, and who was Rose to deny it what it wanted? But much to her surprise, Ingrid Marie was not letting Rose down gently, or at all. Downplaying the amount of magic she wanted to learn and selling Ingrid on her already existing abilities had paid off. Not only was Ingrid willing to offer Rose her guidance, but her usual fee was being waived in favour of a sneak peek at all her stories! It was the very essence of a win-win situation, and the only thing that Rose could think of to ruin it was if her stories suddenly stopped being good. But what were the odds of that happening. "You've got a deal!" Rose said, extending her hoof for Ingrid to bump. She remembered when she was a filly that she used to bump hooves all the time when she made bets or deals with foals her age. Usually the deal would be sealed with a glob of saliva from each party, but even if Rose hadn't outgrown that part of the ritual, she doubted Ingrid would be keen on it, dressed the way she was. "How 'bout I go buy you a copy of Dispatches to start you off?"[/colour]

[colour=#d2b48c]It briefly occurred to Inkwell to look confused. When he mentioned photographs, he was only speaking hypothetically. He wasn't aware that some ponies had actually brought cameras, but really, he wasn't that surprised by the fact, either. Word spread through the grapevine fast in small towns. Inkwell did his part not to spread any unfortunate rumors about Applejack by turning in those sketches, but there was nothing he could do about actual photos. That was out of his hooves. Applejack rewarded him with just about the most passionate kiss she could give with her mouth closed. It took Inkwell by surprise, making his pupils shrink to pinpricks and nearly knocking off his glasses again. The kiss ended almost as soon as it began, and it left Inkwell with a warm, red face and a twisted tongue. "Uh, heheheh, wow, um, th-thanks, Applejack. You're pretty... pretty awesome!" She pushed those apple bushels his way, and he stood aside and fiddled with them, trying to figure out how best to affix them to his sides and take them home. As he struggled with his surprisingly heavy new burden, thoughts about Applejack swam through his head. Does she really like me? he asked himself. Maybe we have a future together? Only as a friend, Inkwell, only as a friend. It won't last long, trust me. But I... that felt really good... It's not like I need her specifically to get that feeling. Wait for someone more compatible to come along and I can kiss to my heart's content, trust myself. His legs wobbled from having to support the weight of two bushels of apples. It might take him a while to get back home with this much weight to carry, but it was probably for the best that he get going. At least he wasn't blocking the line anymore. He gave one more goofy smile to Applejack and turned homeward.[/colour]

[colour=#d2b48c]Before Applejack could really talk to Inkwell, Pinkie Pie ambushed him with one of the strongest bear hugs he'd ever been a part of. He could feel the air rushing out of his lungs and his head feeling light and fuzzy. When Applejack said that Pinkie Pie would be a while in apologizing, confirmed by Pinkie repeating one word over and over, Inkwell thought he could feel a tear or two coming to his eye. "G...great. I'm glad... you like it!" he whispered, smiling and blinking the tears away. "N-nothing but the best for you!" Inkwell realized that Applejack was going to see that drawing of her kissing Princess Luna half a second before she actually did, slamming the book shut and doing her best to save face. "Um, sure! W-what better way to commemorate the day then to keep the pictures? Aside from, you know, photographs." He laughed nervously, though with Pinkie's hug that laugh sounded more like a wheeze. Trying to remember a certain spell, he reopened the book and found the page in question. Thankfully, both sides of it only contained the entirety of the sketches he made of the kissing booth and all the ponies he saw in line. His horn glowed tan, and the page neatly detached from the book. "There we go, all yours, no charge!" Applejack then explained that he had, in fact, gotten the name of his favorite apple wrong, and recommended a good variety of baking apple, too. "Ngh, alright, ten bits it is." As he used his magic to reach for the bits in his saddlebag, Pinkie finally let him go and said something besides "so." "No problem, Pinkie. Easy mistake to make." He counted out the coins, dropping them one by one onto Applejack's counter. "I wouldn't mind the cupcake and giving you some aesthetic advice." He blew a lock of frizzly, chaotic hair out of his face. "After I get my hair washed and combed, of course." Wasn't he forgetting something? Oh, right, the main draw of Applejack's booth in the first place. Inkwell became very conscious of his heartbeat as he looked into Applejack's eyes. She was pretty, in a sort of country way. Strong face, cute little freckles, vivid green eyes that reminded him of a field of grass. He could feel the opportunity to keep himself dignified slipping away, so he just closed his eyes and puckered his lips, hoping that AJ would figure out what to do with him from there.[/colour]

Margaret Atwood is a science fiction writer whose work tends to carry heavy feminist subtext. The Handmaid's Tale is probably her most famous work, telling of a dystopian society where women basically have absolutely no rights. I've heard some people call it heavy-handed, but I'll wait to judge it until I actually read it. I also remember she wrote Oryx and Crake, but I can't remember what that book is actually about. I read quite a few of Chuck Palahniuk's books in high school and college, including Fight Club, though my personal favorite is Survivor (because the chapter and page numbers count down instead of up, fitting the feeling of inevitable doom that the story's framing device inspires). His work tends to be blunt, harsh, and viscerally ugly. I still have a copy of his short story collection, Haunted, which I dare not read again. One of the earlier stories in that book, Guts, has made people faint upon reading it. I made the mistake of reading it in class and it felt kind of sick. So in conclusion, definitely not for everyone, though I kind of like him. I wouldn't be too proud of the Dan Brown association, either. He's the author of Angels and Demons and The Da Vinci Code, popular potboilers that aren't as clever as they might think they are and largely don't hold up to scrutiny. He's not as badly regarded as Stephenie Meyer by bibliophiles, but he's down there. James Joyce, on the other hand, is a capital-L Literature writer whose works (especially Ulysses and Finnegan's Wake) are guaranteed to alienate casual readers and anyone who isn't into deep literary analysis like me. Many people who skim him over find him downright incomprehensible. I haven't actually read that much about his books, but they're deeper than the Marianas Trench and if you're looking for a challenging read, I suppose you'll get one. I didn't know who Margaret Mitchell was when I read your post, but a quick check on Wikipedia tells me she wrote Gone With the Wind. I haven't read that book or seen that movie, so I'm not sure how to feel about this. As for myself, I fed the site the first (and thus far only) two pages of my nascent Fallout Equestria fic and got H. P. Lovecraft. I was kind of aiming for Charles Dickens, since the protagonist and narrator of this first chapter speaks pretentiously with lots of fancy and antiquated words, but I suppose Lovecraft is close enough for an amateur like me.

Yep, I'm writing these blogs. It's been a while since I kept to a schedule like this, but I'm gonna do my best to write and satisfy people etc!

[colour=#e32636]Rose had to stop herself from raising an eyebrow. She knew defensiveness when she saw it, and this griffon was putting way too much effort into explaining what that book was doing in his possession. But that wasn't any of her business. If he couldn't own up to liking the genre, she could understand why. "Well now, your mum has a very thoughtful son! She'll be happy with your gift, I'm sure." She gave him her most sincere smile.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]She had a phase way back in her adolescence when she bought into that claptrap unironically, a phase which ended at her first breakup. Now she was only interested in the trappings of the genre so she could twist them into grotesque, unique and fascinating shapes. A Simple Note was her first major success in that regard, and some ponies took issue with the glee she took in tearing apart a genre they didn't hate the way they thought she did. But she was grateful for ponies like Ingrid Marie who got what she was going for and loved it the result. As long as ponies like her existed, Rose would be happy to keep the fire burning. Speaking of Ingrid Marie, the counselor had asked her another question about her magical ambitions. Hmm, how to answer this one... "Well, if you're asking me why I prefer illusion magic in particular, I thought it would be kind of obvious, right? Most unicorns really only get talent in a way that relates to their real talent in life, unless they're willing to sink a lot of time and effort into expanding their repertoire. My talent lies in the writing of fiction, which is kind of like illusion, you know? Thorn Tender never really existed and I'm pretty sure the underworld he went through doesn't either, but I did my best to make them seem real anyway." She smiled, hoping that Ingrid would understand her analogy. "As for actual illusion magic, I mostly end up using it to help me visualize scenes in my book, how characters and monsters look so I can describe them consistently, and other things like that, supplementary things to help me write. Oh, and I use little touches sometimes when I dress in costumes on Nightmare Night, but at least eighty percent of the costume is practical effects. I just use a light touch of illusion to cover up the seams... wait, what was the question?" But before Ingrid could reply, Rose raised a hoof up to her face and smiled. "Oh right, why I want to get better. Well, I happened to catch Phantasmagoria's show the other day. You know him? He's amazing!" She widened her eyes and stared off past Ingrid, still remembering how he conjured up a lifelike mountainside out of the ether, spreading out in all directions, and even a flock of dragons. "I didn't know one unicorn could do all that, so I thought I'd look into improving my own illusions. They're pretty basic and I don't think I ever made them move that much, or make them in three dimensions. Just the bare minimum for what I needed at the moment."[/colour]

[colour=#d2b48c]While nopony in line had heeded Inkwell's words and froze, they at least had the courtesy to stay out of the general area where his glasses had been dropped. It wasn't the first time Inkwell had dropped his glasses on the floor, and after the first few times it happened during his foalhood he had gotten pretty good at searching for and finding them again. It helped that they had thick black frames that stood out against the earth tones of the ground, and even with his horrible astigmatism he could at least discern colours. Once he put them on his face and got his vision back, finding his sketchbook was a cinch. It had fallen on top of a couple of apples, thankfully minimizing the dirt that would rub into the paper. By the time he finished lifting it back up, Applejack was calling out to him. It took him a few minutes for him to realize that she was talking to him. "Huh? Oh, me! Okay!" He walked up to Applejack, still keeping one eye on his sketchbook to check for damages to his illustrations. Everything looked pretty intact, and as a bonus, there was a nice sketch of Applejack and her family on one of the open pages. Inkwell had drawn her, Big Macintosh, and Apple Bloom standing together and smiling at each other. For some reason he'd drawn Apple Bloom with Applejack's iconic hat on her head, and it was big enough to completely cover her eyes. Her illustrated siblings seemed very amused by this. He got the sensation that he'd been standing there and admiring his handiwork for a bit too long, and looked back at the real Applejack. "Oh, sorry, I was just, um, double-checking it." He turned the page around so that Applejack could see it and all the other sketches he'd made of the ponies he'd seen in line. "Did I get your likeness right?" One of the other sketches on the page, one that he'd forgotten about at the moment, was one of Applejack kissing Princess Luna. Thankfully the poses he'd put them in came across as awkward and funny, as opposed to lascivious and exploitative. "Oh, um, and I'd like a bushel of... do you have fijis? One of fijis, if you've got them, and another of whatever you recommend for baking. I... don't know much about the different kind of apples yet."[/colour] [colour=#d2b48c]He scratched his head and folded his ears, then shook his head and groaned. His now-frizzy hair was starting to get in the way of his eyes, and it felt weird, like he was wearing a pile of cotton on his head. "Ugh, how does Pinkie deal with this?" he asked himself.[/colour]

Roleplay Type: World of Equestria Name: Staccato di Maestro Gender: Male Age: Young stallion Species: Unicorn Eye colour: Teal Coat: Wood Brown. Staccato is almost always seen wearing a coat, usually a tweed jacket coloured in earth tones with an ascot. Mane/Tail: Dark gray with thin white stripes. Staccato keeps his mane just short of shoulder length and carefully brushes his mane and tail to be wavy, light, and full of body. Physique: Staccato has a slight, slender physique exemplifying a life of comfort and decadence, as well as an abundance of pretty boy good looks. Residence: Trottingham Occupation: Composer and musician Cutie Mark: A glowing golden treble clef with a yellow sunburst pattern behind it. Cutie Mark Story: Staccato received it as a result of performing his first violin recital when he was young. Prior to that, he had always loved playing and writing music, but he’d never actually shown the fruits of his labor to anypony outside his immediate family. He approached the event with trepidation, the typical stage fright settling in over him. But once he started playing, he felt himself flowing along with the music and drank up the attention of the crowd. By the time he was done, he knew he was a born performer, and stage fright never troubled him again. He interprets his cutie mark to represent his musical talent shining across Equestria. History: Staccato was born in Trottingham to the illustrious Maestro family, one of the most prominent old money families in the city. The Maestros claim descent from a long line of talented artists in many fields, stretching back to the original Maestro, a prodigal composer whose tunes are well-remembered to this day. His parents and grandparents were overjoyed to have him, taking him through the normal family path of exposing him to all the art they could until they discovered that young Staccato gravitated towards music in general and playing the violin specifically. For much of his youth, Staccato rested safely in the realm of the family’s philosophy of superiority and pretension. Then, when he started growing up and becoming a stallion, he started noticing that his family’s view of the world wasn’t exactly in line with reality. Though members of the Maestro family had taken popular culture and the critical world by storm in the past, the living members of the family were content to rest on their laurels, becoming mere socialites as opposed to artists. As such, the family name was much less relevant than they thought it was. On top of that, Staccato was starting to be influenced by populist opinion from outside the family, as well as the newer, more radical forms of art and music that the Maestro family had ignored, to their detriment. Staccato started studying modern commercial and underground music as well as the classical music he was already versed in, and started getting ideas. However, his family didn’t approve of those new decisions, and so he kept working on them in secret, hoping to create a project that would only reach their ears after it got popular with the rest of the country. He still lives one of the most comfortable lives a pony can live, hobnobbing with the upper crust of Equestria, but he’s also networking with a purpose, finding new and upcoming artists he can learn from, bounce ideas off of, and collaborate with. Two of these artists are Inkwell and Rose Madder, cousins of his who lived outside Ponyville with no connection to the family. Their mother, Meadowsweet, was cut off from the family fortune because her special talent ended up being in herbalism, not any form of artistic media, and because she married a roofer instead of a high society stallion. As it turned out though, Inkwell and Rose Madder turned out to be a talented illustrator and writer, respectively, and Staccato has taken it upon himself to write letters and get acquainted with them. Character Summary: First and foremost, Staccato is a pony of class. He keeps himself immaculately groomed and wears clothes constantly, getting immensely shy whenever another pony sees him nude. Though his clothes aren’t particularly flashy, they are respectable and they don’t look cheap, either. He carries himself with a gentlecoltly air and speaks with utmost formality and politeness. His words are also lofty, fancy, and occasionally complex. Staccato rarely bothers to use one word when he feels he can get away with using five, and he often slips into talking like a character from an old-fashioned romantic play. “Romantic” would also be a good word to describe his personality at the height of his most passionate moments, though this passion relates to conversations in music and not to actual, literal romance. And yet, despite the way he speaks, he seldom comes across as a snob or an elitist. He’ll patiently converse with just about anyone, no matter how common or without class they seem to him. Ponies who talk to him will find him pleasant and encouraging, with an enthusiastic lust for life, though he’ll also seem effete and foppish, with an above-average concern for staying clean. The only time he really ever seems hostile is when a pony persists in downplaying or otherwise insisting that music is unimportant and trivial, at which point he’ll load up a grandiose speech to disprove the boorish pony he’s talking to. As far as he could remember, Staccato’s life revolved around music. He spent most of his life studying music, became proficient (though not exactly excellent) at every instrument his wealthy family could provide him with, and developed a good singing voice. Thanks to this habit of universal proficiency, he’s grown entitled to expect himself to succeed at any musical task he puts himself up to, and thus gets into dark moods whenever he has to struggle for musical success, or when he come to the rare genre that completely eludes him. In addition, the changes he went to with his personality during his teenage years, including his distinct attitude to music and being introduced to the more forbidden parts of the medium, have left him with a distinct fear that he hasn’t entirely found his own identity. Someday he hopes to bring glory and fame to the Maestro family name, as well as become the talk of the musical world, a full-blown superstar whose talent and works will be talked about, referenced, and imitated for decades. He seldom loses confidence in his ability to do so, exemplifying the Maestro family pride that characterizes most members of the family, even rebels like him and Rose Madder. But sometimes, particularly when he hits a stumbling block, he gets into a funk, worrying that his genius will never be recognized by the public. So strong is love for music and art that he rarely ever indulges in any hobbies beyond them. Much of his time is spent experimenting with melody and writing or polishing songs, this being what he considers “work time.” His free time is spent simply listening to music as a regular consumer, reading, attending musicals and opera, or even watching the occasional movie. However, he will change these habits when he makes an effort to bond with a friend, going along with whatever activity said friend enjoys while asking countless questions about how it works and why they enjoy it so much.

[colour=#d2b48c]Neither of the two academic ponies behind Inkwell in line seemed to notice the comment he made about Pinkie Pie. He sighed and went back to his work, continuing to fill his sketchbook with images of all the various ponies in the line. Thankfully his attention to the subject matter at hand meant that he knew how far along in line he was. Soon he'd have his apples, but that meant he would probably have to leave to take them home. The thought made him sigh a bit, but he told himself that he didn't need an excuse to hang out with the Apple family if he really wanted to. He stepped up behind Mr. Cake in line and listened to him chatting it up with Applejack. From behind the lanky baker he peeked to see Applejack showing little Pumpkin Cake some love. It was so adorable that Inkwell thought he'd have to reserve an entire page to draw pictures of the two. But just as he started sketching outlines, he noticed Pumpkin's horn glowing. "Uh, Applejack?" he said, before he started to feel the foal's magic work on his hair. His mane and tail began to float in the air, swaying almost like they belonged to Celestia or Luna. The effect was intriguing, and Inkwell had to admit it felt pretty good, but at the same time it made him a bit nervous about moving around. It was pretty good fodder for a drawing, too. What did he look like with floating hair? Like he had smoke clouds flowing from him? Interesting... Inkwell heard the loud sound of an apple barrel clocking Big Macintosh on the head, breaking him out of his flight of fancy. He pulled away from the magical effect to rush to Mac's aid. Unbeknownst to him, rushing forward so quickly disrupted the spell on his hair and caused it to frizz like crazy. By the time he reached Mac, the spell had made it look eerily like Pinkie Pie's normal poofy style. "Hey, you okay, Ma-" he asked, before the wheel fell off the cart and spilled apples all over the ground around Big Macintosh. The larger stallion slipped and fell, knocking into the cart and sending a bunch of apples flying in Inkwell's direction. He reared back and trying to shield himself, failing to prevent the occasional apple from pelting him in the face. "Ow, ow, OW!" he shouted, wincing with each impact. The last apple struck him in the forehead, knocking him onto his back and making him grunt. Inkwell rose to his hooves shortly after Mac did, rubbing his head with a hoof. "Aaagh, that smarts. Yikes." Then he felt the absence of a familiar weight on his nose and realized that the world had gotten much blurrier since he fell down. "Nopony move!" he shouted. "I dropped my glasses!" He whipped his head around to look for them, causing his newly puffed-out mane to bounce around. "And my sketchbook!" Panic started to overtake him, and he forced himself to take a deep breath and calm down.[/colour]

Rose had to read the flyer three times before she believed what she was seeing. Her first thought when she saw the flyer was that it was some sort of prank or publicity stunt. Well, obviously it was for publicity, but for some reason she refused to believe it was being honest with her. All three of the princesses were too busy carrying the country on their backs to answer the no doubt hundreds of letters that this flyer would draw their way. Nopony could cram that much into their schedule. But slowly, as she walked home, she started transitioning her thoughts from disbelief to curiosity. This could be a golden opportunity to ask questions and get to know the princesses more personally. If she ever wanted to write fictional royalty, it would help to learn more about the real deal, wouldn't it? But who to ask, and what questions? It got so bad that she couldn't concentrate on the course of her normal writing. Half a page had gone by before she realized that she had accidentally replaced her protagonist with Princess Cadence. She crumpled up the compromised page and tossed it over her shoulder. "Ugh, what to write?" she wondered. The answer came to her after a brief catnap.

[colour=#e32636]Rose Madder showed as many teeth as she could when Ingrid Marie praised her debut novel. Her first impression of the mare had been pretty much swept under the rug at this point, since anypony who loved weird stories, especially her weird stories, couldn't be all bad. Rose could practically feel her ego swelling from the personal compliment, and she was about to answer the hoofful of questions Ingrid asked when a griffon knocked her over and into a shelf, dumping several books on her head.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]"Owwww!" she whined, rubbing her head as she got up. She looked at the griffon, giving him a glare, until she spotted the book he was carrying. It made her curious enough to forget the irritation she felt at this other shopper barging into her (Not even she was gauche enough to do that!). "Oh cool, haven't seen that book in a while," she said, peering at it to get a closer look. "Good choice. That one's a genre milestone. Honestly, it might be too much of a milestone. So many fantasy romances in the last few decades took a leaf out of Three Kingdoms's book that I'm surprised you're not just holding a detached spine and cover there."[/colour] [colour=#e32636]As she levitated the books back into an approximation of where she remembered them being, she went back to Ingrid. "Well, I was told by another author that putting up a pseudonym and not putting my photo in the book would help me access fans on my own terms. I know most fans are reasonable but I've seen some pretty questionable behavior firsthoof." Her mind flashed to a pegasus she'd encountered once who not only dressed as Daring Do, but based her entire lifestyle around those books. That was scary, and not in the way Rose was comfortable with. "And at the time I was kind of sick of being the dozenth gal named Rose in Trottingham, so I took my cutie mark and made a name out of it." Sure enough, her flanks featured an image including a literal black orchid.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]Rose had gotten the softball stuff out of the way, and now came the hard question. She pursed her lips, thinking of how she'd best respond. Honesty, even blunt honesty, was probably the best policy at this point. "It's not going to be my number one priority," she admitted. "I spend hours a day writing stuff that might not even end up being good enough for publishing, but that still leaves me with plenty of time to myself, you know? I don't want to give you the impression that this is just going to be a new hobby for me or anything. It's not like I want to master everything. It's not like I was completely inept with magic as a child! I was actually kind of good at illusion, and honestly I'd be satisfied with just more of that."[/colour] [colour=#e32636]She bit her lip, realizing she was coming across as defensive at the moment. Why did she have to do that? Now her mystique was completely ruined for this fan of hers, and the gossip would probably spread about how Black Orchid was really just a flaky, insecure young punk. Oh well, she'd burn that bridge when she came to it.[/colour]

[colour=#e32636]Wow, Rose didn't think she'd be able to get this fuddy-duddy mare to open up to her so easily. But as she told her brother the other day, a great part of socializing was indeed all about listening to ponies and figuring out what they wanted to talk about. Rose extended a hoof to meet Ingrid Marie's and gave it a firm shake. "I'm Rose Madder," she said with a smile. "I've written a couple of books under the Black Orchid name. You can find them in this shop, assuming you aren't above the fiction section." It would have been hard to miss her second book, a collection of short stories entitled Dispatches Beyond the Veil, since there was a display of it front and center in the bookstore.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]"And no, I never got into that school," she said with a shrug. "I tried, but it wasn't hard enough, and then I got these before the entrance exam came about." She turned her head and glanced at one of her cutie marks. "Let's just say I didn't get that studying, so I figured, why bother? It only took fifteen years for me to start thinking of what-ifs and should-haves. Go me."[/colour] [colour=#e32636]She chuckled and crossed her forelegs, trying to play it cool. "So now I'm wondering if it's too late for me to try and learn more magic stuff. Maybe my mind's not as pliable and stuff anymore, or maybe I'm just being greedy, wanting to be good at magic and writing? I guess it's a good thing I ran into you. Would you mind setting me straight, if you're not too busy?" Rose's face wasn't particularly animated, and her smile looked faint and effortless, almost like she wasn't getting her hopes up for an optimistic answer.[/colour]

[colour=#e32636]Rose snapped her book shut and backed away into the space between bookshelves. "Oh shoot, yeah, of course," she muttered. [/colour] [colour=#e32636]Only after she'd gotten out of the way did she look at the pony who requested it of her. To put it blankly, this mare looked boring, officious, and entirely too serious. She had a straight, uniform cut to her mane and tail with not a single hair allowed to be out of place. To top off the look, she looked to be wearing a brown vest and black tie. A tie! Who would wear one of those outside of work? By contrast, Rose sported an unkempt, almost punk, manecut and wore nothing save for her usual saddlebags.[/colour] [colour=#e32636]This was not the kind of pony Rose normally chose to talk to at all. But for some reason, she remembered this mare's tone of voice and some faint words that Rose had heard her say while Rose was reading. "Guess you're having a rough day," she said to the mare. "Honestly, this part of the store kinda frustrates me, too. It's hard for me to trust most of these." She gave Illusions for Dummies a bemused look and levitated it back onto the shelf it came from. "Textbooks are sounding like a better deal already, but I don't exactly know where to find one, not being a student and all."[/colour]