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Vintage

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Everything posted by Vintage

  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.
  14. Aww. I'm flattered, gang. ;w; Thank you for the lovely compliments. And she's in an RP in Saddleveil Plains! x3 She's opened up her own shop there. She's also gonna be poking around the Gala, o'course.
  15. The thrifty mare, herself, had always been more humble than a piece of bread. Perhaps it was the way that her family hadn't been truly that wealthy, or the way that she just came off as her father's daughter in how she kept old things, not only for their charm, but for durability and practicality. "Use it up, wear it out - make it do, or do without," he'd tell her. Several pairs of pretty boots and saddles she'd stared longingly at from the other side of a shop's window had gone un-purchased in her filly days, instead finding the coziness of a pair of well-worn boots and a thick, striped scarf incomparable. Over the years, the style itself had grown on her, and her father's philosophy soon became her own. She glanced up at him again just in time to see him sticking his tongue out. She made a face of her own, an expression teetering between the voids of amusement and puzzlement. "It must be quite nice to be able to fly. Getting anywhere by hoof proves a challenge." With that, she went back to work, looking for a key to one of the several padlocks splayed out while he had busied himself with something in his satchel. She'd stuck an ornately crafted key into an equally ornate padlock when he'd revealed the beautiful vase. She must've looked quite the sight, sitting there dumbly with her thick glasses drooped down her nose, mouth slightly agape. "O-Oh my...how could somepony not like it? Stuffed in a closet...! Such nonsene!" She hadn't really expected him to offer her a vase right then and there, but the grin that replaced that silly hanging of her lower jaw proved that she was pleasantly surprised. A small click sounded from the lock in her hooves before she set it down. "I-...thank you! For the vase! And the welcome!" A light tinting of blush flourished across her cheeks and nose as she carefully took the vase. The handle, the decorative painting, the entire presentation. It was totally epic. Small chuckle was offered at the locksmith bit, "Heheh. Then I'll be sure to keep the locksmithing shop open for a while, in case somepony comes in with a real problem. Like their back hoof handcuffed to their front." Why anypony would be in that predicament was beyond her knowledge. "They can listen to Colttrane while I break out the bobby pins." A moment's pause and she'd chirp a small, "Oh!" Setting the vase carefully on the counter, she held up the lock again, "I think I've found a match. Will this one do?" It had been forged out of an iron that had long since tarnished, but its face had been crafted with a leaf pattern. The key itself matched with a similar leaf symbol carved out of the loop. She gave Clay a tilt of her head, "How about you take it in exchange for the silly mix-up and the vase? You're my first customer too, and I couldn't have asked for anypony more enjoyable to meet on such an occasion." He was certainly more entertaining than someone who would've probably come in, browsed for a moment, and then left.
  16. Vintage came across a clearing in the garden before long - although how clear it was could be determined differently from eye to eye. Indeed, there seemed to be quite a gathering. And- ...ooh, was that Princess Luna? Even by squinting, it was hard to tell, having left her glasses at home, but the dark pelt and the long mane as inky as the night sky. That alone was enough for her shyness to kick back in. Stop squinting, Vintage. Ponies are going think you're glaring at them. Swallowing the lump in her throat, the mare skirted around the outside of the garden, trying to be inconspicuous as she made her way to the pond. Upon arriving, she'd sit herself neatly down along the bank and let out a small sigh. She wasn't very much good at this socializing business, that was certain. Or at least not that good at starting the conversations. She glanced at the chattering ponies scattered around the garden (or what she could make out of them) and even from that far away, she could hear the music and gaiety from inside the castle. She dipped the brim of her cloche hat gently, just enough to cover the tops of her eyes. "Maybe I shouldn't have come," she muttered to herself. "Really, I don't much know anypony, and I'd think that the higher-class ponies would have a better time with one another than someone who...collects dusty old clothes and records." There was a calming feeling to the night, at least. Some sort of serenity to the cool breeze and the dark sky. It made it hard for her to truly be melancholy about her trivial predicaments when everyone around was making merry, no matter how much of a sore hoof she felt like.
  17. It was the stuff of pony tales. Ballroom attire and proper etiquette. A gigantic castle and royalty. A celebration of celebrations - the kinds in those old books that she loved so. She'd been so ecstatic with the architecture, the sculptures and decorations that she hadn't even noticed her hooves had meandered her right out into the courtyard. Only when the crisp evening air hit her did she seem to realize where she'd gotten herself to. No matter, though! The whole place had her in high spirits, and the atmosphere made the wrong turn into a happy accident. Hungry though she was starting to get, she knew that she could wait it out just a bit longer to admire the courtyard and gardens. She would've loved to have taken a few flowers home to press, but she dared not touch royal property. As it was, it was breathtakingly exquisite, anyway. The thought of how long those gardens had stood, how many years those flowers had bloomed, where the seeds had come from, and those seeds before them - the pony couldn't help but recite to herself. Running a gloved hoof delicately along the petals of a rose, soon to lean up and sniff. She loved autumn, but spring won out - if only for the sake of flowers. "You love the roses - so do I. I wish The sky would rain down roses, as they rain From off the shaken bush. Why will it not? Then all the valley would be pink and white And soft to tread on. They would fall as light As feathers, smelling sweet; and it would be Like sleeping and like waking, all at once!" A smile tugged at her mouth gently as she strode along the cobblestone path. In no hurry at all was she, and enjoying the scenery for what it was!
  18. Everyone's looking so fancy! x) I'm loving some of the creative outfits y'all are coming up with. Here's Vintage's. I couldn't decide on victorian, flapper or whatever...so I sort've made a combo of both. It looks summery to me. :3 And Feedback has somehow found the fancy of weaseling her way into the Gala, Celestia help us all. She seems to think this is what 'formal attire' consists of:
  19. For the time being, I'd say Pinkie is - only because we haven't actually seen a whole lot of Derpy in the season thus far.
  20. Vintage was, perhaps, not the best choice to become a shop owner, but it was something that she desperately wanted to do. She was too afraid of klutzing up and seeming awkward sometimes that it only lead her to klutz up even more. On the bright side, it was more of a first impression kind of thing, and once she started talking to someone she seemed to become more comfortable. Mister Nimbus Claypot was proving to be a good example of this. "I'm so glad, then! The accident of mixed-up shop signs ends up being a happy mistake." She sat and took one of the padlocks, figuring she'd make shorter work of it for him if she helped out. Several keys were passed through in an attempt to fit them into the lock, but to no such avail. "I'm more than certain the keys for these locks are in here, somewhere. Or at least a skeleton key of some sort, until you could get a new key fitted for it." The dusty-colored pony glanced up when he introduced himself further, nudging her glasses back up into place, "The Clay Hermit? I-...hrm. It sounds familiar, but...I suppose I don't know too many people here, yet. I've only visited a few times with my family, and I've only more recently moved here." When he turned to show off his cutie mark, the mare would smile, pausing in her work. "That's a lovely dream. I've seen some pottery made from clouds, but never any that could be universally used. It would certainly be something to see!" Then he revealed the small workings he'd had tucked away in his satchel. She let out a small "Oooh," and nodded to him, "Alright. That sounds like a fair trade to me." Carefully she picked out one of the small vases from the top, turning it delicately in her hooves, "This is so intricately designed! I can tell you must've worked hard for a long time to make something this pretty. The curve of the neck is so smooth." Vintage wished plenty of times that she could be good at any sort of craft. With knitting, the yarn always tangled and knotted. Drawing was futile, as all she could ever hope to draw were mediocre stick ponies. As for pottery, that was simply out of the question. No doubt she'd just end up with a horrendous looking lump that couldn't hold anything but someone's disgusted attention. It didn't really bother her, though. In her own way she was creative - having an eye for detail and being able to organize things in her shop took creativity all on its own. "Do you come here to town to sell commissions for others? Or other places in Equestria?" She kept the idea of perhaps commissioning him in the future in the back of her mind. A vase would look nice with some flowers in it, out on the sill of one of her apartment windows.
  21. I'm glad you like her! Added a bit to her summary on her personality, and fixed up a few nitpicky little grammatical errors I saw.
  22. [ Pony Related Character ] Name: Winter Solstice Sex: Female Age: Older filly. Species: Pegasus Pelt Color: Blue Mane/Tail Color & Style: Straight and long. Appears as if she hasn't had either trimmed for quite some time. Both are comprised of a combination of pastel blue and white. Eye Color: Blue Cutie Mark: A snowflake in the shape of a heart. Physique: A tad on the small side. Residence: Cloudsdale Occupation: Works during the winter as a weather pony, helping with snowfalls, ice and chilly temperatures. Motivation: Since she was a young filly, Solstice has adored frost and ice and the delicate, intricate patterns that it can cast over windows, or water, or trees. She longed to be able to help with the chilly weather during winter, especially learning how to create those lovely patterns in the ice. She received her cutie mark when she was able to successfully achieve her dream - casting the face of a pond on her own with pretty, elaborate swirls and patterns in ice. Likes: Starry nights, snow, ice on trees, comfy scarves and boots, and music - particularly softer melodies than loud, rowdy ones. Dislikes: Hot days, frostbite, off-key singers and bugs. Character Summary: To start, it's easy to say that Winter Solstice is a gentle type of individual. Rather passive and generally kind to those she meets, she's a fairly easy pony to get along with. Her greatest strength, however, has more than once ended up being her downfall. She's a pony who's eager to please, and hates to say no or disappoint anyone. Thus, she tends to push herself too far at times. Solstice had truly found what she wanted to do with her life, first and foremost, after her first visit to the world below Cloudsdale. Her mother (a weather pony herself at the time) took the little foal with her while working through her duties one day. Solstice was astounded by how delicate and beautiful the world could be in the winter. How fragile everything was. The stillness of the plains as they lay slumbering beneath a fresh blanket of white snow. Where so many longed for the burst of life spring had to offer, she was one of the ponies who anticipated winter every year, when things became fragile and pristine and white. Receiving her cutie mark was a momentous occasion, an occurrence that happened while training under her mother's wing. Twirling through the sky above a small pond, beating her wings to twist the chilled air beneath her, just enough to freeze the face of the pond in a carefully crafted mural of swirls and curves. The elation of it all! How glorious it felt to lend a hoof in the frosty season of winter. Not long after she'd gotten a bit older, the filly joined Cloudsdale's 'Winter Division' of weather ponies. She has been helping them happily ever since. When she isn't working on frost patterns or blanketing the ground in snow, Winter Solstice spends her time working on her singing voice, practicing various tunes and melodies, and even writing some of her own as a side-hobby.
  23. The mare's brows knit together as she heard the other pony apologize. Oh, good job, Vintage. You made him feel bad about you feeling bad. "Oh, no! No worries. This store is relatively new, anyway. I, ah...I just opened today, actually. Nopony but you has come in yet," she said, smiling, "so I guess that makes you my first customer." Even if it was somepony who wouldn't buy anything, he was still a customer. At his tangent, however, she'd take pause in her work and look over at him again. By the time he'd finished, her glasses had slid down her muzzle, mouth hanging agape. His embarrassment only made her beam brightly at him, "Those are very true words to live by! And it's exactly why I started this shop. I want to share that dream with others. It's lovely to be able to craft something that is truly one-of-a-kind, and had all of the artist's love and effort put into it." Vintage nodded at the box, "Even those have to have been made the same way. And feel free to take a look at them, see if you find any you might fancy. If not, I'm sure I could point you in the…general direction of the locksmith." She was pretty sure they were nearby. Or something. She'd have to consult her handy-dandy map for that. A brief pause, and she'd tilt her head to the side, "I don't want to be nosey, but with a workshop and a teacher who fancies pottery…are you in the trade, as well?" Silly question, but she thought she'd ask. She knew next to no one in Fillydelphia as of yet, really. "Gah - my manners, sorry - my name is Vintage. It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, sir."
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