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Vintage

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  1. Music playing was something that always set the punk pony at a relative ease. She'd already forgotten about the soreness of her hooves. Laziness made it hard for her to come up with any further lyrics at the moment, but the melody from those strings kept filling the afternoon air. Feedback leaned back and closed her eyes. Seemed like a simple, small town, but for her, that only made is more peaceful. She hadn't expected a voice to pipe up after she'd finished her song, however. Glancing up, the unicorn gave a passerby who'd seemed to be interested in her music a small, crooked grin. "You like it? Awesome. Was just somethin' I came up with on the spot." She scooted over a bit, gesturing with a flick of her head to the spot under the tree next to her. "Knock yourself out. Name's Feedback. I'm a wanderin' minstrel." Not a lie, really, but she made it sound more fancy than it was for her. "So, you live here in Ponyville?" she'd ask, making some small-talk between picking herself out a new song to strum.
  2. She couldn't believe it. Feedback just could not believe it. She thought she was trippin' bails! An invitation to the Gala that had laid, wrinkled and unattended, on the side of the road. She'd checked it for a string attached, but no string. No joke. She'd held it up in her hooves, staring at the metallic parchment in the sunlight. "…No. Way." It was only natural that she'd attend. Whatever forgetful pony had left it there on the road was obviously not coming back for it! Feedback was never one for classy affairs, but hey. A party was a party! She kept that precious bit of swankiness with her even as she stepped up the extravagant staircase the following evening, towards the main hall of the palace. Lucky for her, her stage outfit was snappy enough to double as formal attire (or so she thought.) Sharp, dark jeans with a studded belt and bright yellow boots polished to perfection garbed on back half. Front half donned a white shirt with nary a stain on it, kept mostly hidden by a leather jacket. Its collar was high and the jacket itself practically dripped with zippers and studs. She'd even somehow worked her mussy mane into a proper mohawk and put on a little extra eye-liner. "Wonder if they'll even let me in," she muttered to herself with a bemused grin, growing ever wider. "Maybe if I tell 'em I'm a totally famous rock star." But oh. Wait! She had a ticket. Ha-ha-ha. With it, she managed to trot in without much of a problem, although the awkward glances at her "formal attire" weren't spared in the least. The place was crowded, as was to be expected, the lot either conversing or lining up to head in and be greeted by the Princess. Feedback figured she couldn't pass up the chance to meet royalty - she might've been a little rebel, but Her Majesty always deserved respect. With that in mind, the mare began meandering her way along, half shuffling and half admiring the decor for the time being. Her neck was craned down a bit, more out of habit than anything else, and the slouch did nothing to make her less conspicuous.
  3. "Bingo-bango." The town of Ponyville was finally in her sights. As far as Feedback was concerned, it was a welcome sight at that. She'd been hoofin' it for the passed day or two, only occasionally hitch-hiking a ride on somepony's cart. Still, there it was, and she was thankful for it. Running a hoof back through her mane - and doing nothing for making it any bit organized - the mare adjusted her satchel and guitar, and strode over the main bridge. The day was lovely and bright, and the town itself looked to be packed to the teeth with hustling and bustling. "I'll bet this place is full'a ponies who are down for some sick riffs." Or at least somepony who could appreciate music enough to pass a bit of coinage her way. Silly Feedback. If there was one thing she was the worst at, it was monetary issues; she'd spent most of her money on food and guitar strings, already. Her belly wasn't satisfied with the clover sandwich she'd fed it yesterday, however, and was nagging at her again. Such was the life of a starving artist. Her hair and piercings definitely seemed to give her a few odd glances as she made her way through town. She was used to it, though. Her silent reply was always a coy smile or a conspiratorial wink. Finally finding a tree for some shade and a place to rest her legs, the mare plopped down and gently shrugged off her satchel, guitar case swung around in front of her and propped open. The guitar therein was taken out - the body styled in an edgy upside-down V shape, and as bright a yellow as the sun in summertime. Leaning back against the tree behind her, Feedback would strum lazily until she found herself a comfortable rhythm and melody, ad-libbing lyrics as she went. Shake it up, sleepy town, Get up on your hooves tonight, Laugh away that sorry frown - Cuz we gonna rock tonight! Shake your tail and party right, Don't let nothing get you down! Her voice had certainly been a practiced one. Feminine for sure, but with a hearty sound to it, singing from her chest and not her nose. She'd occasionally shoot glances at passerbys, knowing that she was singing for them first and foremost, even before she was singing for her supper. Still, she kept the guitar case open in the event somepony did feel generous.
  4. Salutations, fellow brony and weeaboo! Welcome to the forums.
  5. "I wouldn't be surprised," Vintage said, "If it did become an antique one day. All things that are passed along from hoof to hoof are, eventually." She smiled at him, "Perhaps someday when we're all old, some little filly or colt will find it in their grandmare's windowsill and be so taken by it, they'll want to start collecting antiques or make pottery." When he accepted the padlock, she nodded, "I'm glad that it's finding a home, where it'll be used and appreciated again." In a way, it was a bit like sending a foal off on their first day of school. Or maybe he knew the same feeling whenever he sold one of his fantastic pieces of pottery. At his philosophical statement, and his further statement of making a new friend, a humble smile would tug at the corner of her mouth. "The one thing that truly defines an antique - at least, I like to think - is the sentimental value that it holds. All of the memories that it was a part of. I'm sure I'll never know all of the memories that ponies had about all of the items in the store, but in a way, that's what has given the items their character. They're forever a part of history." She waggled her hoof gently, "And off I go, rambling again. My apologies." With a shake of her head, a bit more dust poofing out from her mane. "I'm glad to have made a friend, as well. You seem like such a nice pony that I think it'd be hard for anyone not to make friends with you!" The rosey-maned mare tilted her head when he pulled out a bit purse, "Oh...you don't have to pay-" She paused at his reasoning behind her first bit for the shop. "I-...well, yes. I suppose so. It's good luck, I think, to frame your first one." She glanced towards the storage room, trotting over, "Actually, I think I have a little frame back here, somewhere...!" A bit of rummaging, a small squeak and boxes toppling sounded before the little mare came out once more, again covered in dust, but triumphantly holding a small, simple frame in her mouth. It had been delicately carved with the pattern of roses, and the glass was slightly clouded with dust. She carefully took it out and reached under the counter for a rag to clean it off with.
  6. Vintage tilted her head to the side, attempting to pop a crick out of her neck. Trying to 'puff out her feathers,' so to speak, and boasting a prim and proper posture wasn't something she was entirely used to. Though, she nearly shot back up into that proper posture at the sound of a voice all-too close to her. As that handsome-sounding voice continued, though, her expression would change to one of puzzlement, and then spread a big grin from ear to ear. "Mister Clayton!" She looked up at him, squinting briefly. "My goodness, I didn't expect to see you here- er...I mean to say, I truly didn't expect to be invited, myself. Perhaps the Gala decided on expanding invitational arms this year." A slight hint of blush at her cheeks and a humbled smile would come when she realized that he'd previously complimented her dress. She wasn't used to it. C'mon girl, get it together! "And might I say that is a fine outfit you're wearing, as well. I wouldn't recognize you right away if you hadn't come out with it. You look a new stallion without all of the clay dust," she teased lightly at him. At least she felt a little bit more at ease, knowing someone she was acquainted with was attending the Gala. "So, how has your night been so far? This place is absolutely spectacular, isn't it? The garden alone was ravishing. And the sculptures and other trinkets that decorate the halls inside the castle...!" She got corralled elsewhere once or twice for stepping too close to some of the items to get a better look, but she'd leave that part out.
  7. ...Mawwiage. :I (I loved that movie. I still watch it sometimes.)
  8. FINISH HER!! ...NEIGHTALITY. In all seriousness though, it looks like it could at least be entertaining. I'm curious as to what sort of special attacks they all might have.
  9. Drew my Feedback and a friend's pony, Double-Click, as a request from him. Click! Probably a terrible idea. Feedy is a frightening sort, breaking into the personal space of just about anypony.
  10. I'm in love with MLP cosplays. ;3; I don't think I've yet to see any that are terrible, really. They all make me want to try my hand at Pinkie.
  11. All the Ghibli movies are amazing, really. Totoro was just my first one. <3
  12. Robin Hood: Men in Tights. No, seriously. :I My parents let me watch awful dirty movies like that. Or when I was actually, you know, watching something appropriate, it was usually My Neighbor Totoro. <3
  13. [ Pony Related Character ] Name: Feedback Sex: Female Age: Young mare. Species: Unicorn Pelt Color: Vivid teal. Mane/Tail Color & Style: It tends to vary quite a bit, but her preferred style is spiky and wild. Bright orange contrasts neon green in both her cropped tail and frenzied mane. Eye Color: Orange Cutie Mark: A black music note with a lime green "burst" behind it. Physique: A bit on the thin side, and somewhat tall and gangly. Residence: Formerly Fillydelphia, and she still considers it her hometown, but she's since started doing more traveling than staying in one place for long. Occupation: "Traveling musician," to put it in more cough terms than she ever would. Motivation: Feedback is eager to spread the wonderful sense of vigor and life she feels whenever she's playing guitar or singing a killer melody. She tends to be a bad influence more often than not, however, and is never hesitant to "lead wayward ponies down the path that rawks." Likes: Loud music, wild parties, thunder storms, trying new hairstyles, crazy stage clothes and "bad-boy" stallions. Dislikes: Boredom, fancy affairs, high heels, and drab colors. Character Summary: "Reach for those stars, Feedback. You never know what you'll be able to pull down." The filly came from a musically-inclined family, to start with, in the outskirts of Fillydelphia. Humble beginnings where her father had started teaching her how to play a guitar, almost as soon as she was able to gallop. There was something magical to it - being able to create and play songs, to transfer them from one's mind to the instrument before them. Her cutie mark came the same night of one of her school's annual talent shows. Having practiced for months and months, the filly was both eager and nervous about performing a song she'd written especially for the show. Once she was up on stage, however, she felt like there was no better a place for her to be. She performed her song with all of her heart, her voice raised in song in the evening air. It was the night that she knew what she wanted to do for herself - and others - for the rest of her life. By the time she'd reached her later school years, she was an old hat at playing guitar. Writing her own songs was a hobby that she nurtured fervently, keeping everything and anything she wrote in horseshoe boxes beneath her bed at home. A year or so after she'd graduated from her academic life, the pony joined a band with three others - drummer, bassist and keyboard player. It was the first time that Feedback would work with other ponies to lay down rad tunes. "The Crooked Gaits," as the band had dubbed themselves, grew to a small bit of popularity over the summer that they were together. As much as the other band members' style of music influenced Feedback, so too did they influence her image, and soon she had turned into a sharp little mare with a brash attitude and a taste for the wilder side of life. Dyed the tips of her mane and tail, pierced up her face and generally became a little rough around the edges. Unfortunately, opinions didn't always see eye-to-eye, and The Crooked Gaits had a falling out. For a while, this deeply bothered Feedback. The mare returned back to her home in Fillydelphia, becoming reserved, and rarely picking up her guitar. It was only by the encouragement of her father and his ever steadily-guiding hoof that she decided to get back out into the world and give the music scene another shot. She had too much of a love for music itself to refuse. With that fire back in her belly and that determined gleam in her eye, Feedback is ready to give the music scene another shot, with or without other ponies to help her. Oh, she's back, alright. "Back with a vengeance." Gallery: Feedback's Stagewear (and...Gala...attire?) Her ususal practice of getting all up in someone's bizz-nasty.
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