Twimsy

She hated to be so dramatic when life didn't call for it. And now, all weepy-eyed, she felt terribly foolish. Even though she knew that if there was one pony in the world who she could probably cry in front of, it was him. She lifted her head up once more, and it was as if time stopped, his muzzle having closed the space between hers. And then those words... For most of her life, Persnickety had felt alone. She had friends, certainly, and her parents, but she'd very rarely ever connected with somepony who understood, sympathized and genuinely cared. It was as if they were souls that had been divided for an age, brought together across space and time. A friendship, forged by fate. And at that very moment, she realized just how much the stallion in front of her could mean to her, if given the chance. Head tilting the opposite direction, she leaned forth to reciprocate the kiss, not only out of her own affection, but out of the warm feeling of not being just another face in the crowd. The feeling of mattering, of being something in somepony else's life - if only by the tiniest margin.

It's because I actually really dislike drawing ponies, for some reason. xD;; So I only do it on rare occasions when I have the brief itch to. Maybe someday I'll grow out of that. I do take commissions for other stuff every once in a while - usually I'll post up a journal on my dA about it - but for now I'm closed with that, too. I'm just the debbiest of downers today, huh. !

This isn't really art, but I found a base on deviantART and slapped some colors/a mane on it just to see what Persnickety would look like in a show-accurate style. Conclusion: diabetes.

I haven't drawn much ponies lately. But here's a sketchy Persnickety profile.

"I had an...alright time. It was not the worst party that I've been to..." She trailed off when he paused in his gait, stopping beside him. "...Somethin' wrong...?" The feathery warmth that unfurled and moved about her own wings made her glance up from the cobblestones, blinking hard to focus on his eyes. They held such a sympathetic conviction, and his words... She could feel her brow knit at the mere sound of them. Even if nopony else believes in you, I can assure you ... one pony always will. How vulnerable it made her feel. But, was that really such a bad thing? "...Thank you, Newsworthy. That-...it means f-..far more than you may know...and it makes me not feel so alone..." He knew just what to say when she felt like giving up all hope. How did he do it? Next to nopony else had ever been able to do such a thing for her. It made her feel like she really could succeed in her hopes and dreams for the future. That alone was something worth dusting off and trying again, for. She hadn't even realized until her eyes began to sting that they'd welled up with tears.

"Take care, Cleff! The ars--arTIStic field is something vicious! But we shall prevail!" the tipsy pegasus chirped, grinning to herself as they departed. Once outside, Persnickety was thankful for the fresh air - even if it was far chillier than one not accustomed to Stalliongrad would anticipate. At least the commotion from within the afterparty could scarcely be heard from out there. The mare walked along in relative silence next to her date, wobbling once in a while or meandering off to the side, but for the most part she kept herself rather composed. "...I'm sorry," she said, finally. "That was rather foolish of me. I shouldn've drank so much..." Putting on a smile, she glanced up at him, "But, I hope that you had a good time...?"

"That just goes to show she's an acre-- actress who can work well under pressure," she replied with a sniff. "Not every pony would have that kind of mettle. They all did their best, and it was a very good play, and they should be proud." Folding up the napkin and tucking that, too, into her scarf, she blinked up at him. "Umh...y-yes. Yes, perhaps we should go...much as I'd like to stay and see more tension brew between the elite and seasoned ponies of the acting, um...field." She slipped from her stool, teetering only slightly before gaining her balance and giving him a smile. "Considerate, as usual. I would like that very much, Newsworthy..."

"Mm?" She glanced up, blinking hard - oh. Maybe she was a little more tipsy than she'd thought. "...H-Heh. That's good to hear." She leaned against the bar as she turned, tucking the quill back into her scarf. "Mhmhm...I got to writing, too. Writing some ideas down, I mean. Which is rather silly, but I suppose it's best to get it down when inspiration hits...!"

She grinned, "I'll try." She watched him head over to the table, soon turning back to drain the rest of her cider, staring into the empty mug afterwards. She had a little bit of money...and Newsworthy had said that he'd pick up the tab if anything else. She could afford another... ...and perhaps another after that. At least she'd still be in the same place when he'd returned, though her head was now resting on a hoof, elbow on the bartop. The occasional hiccup slipped from her throat, and for the most part, she looked like she'd just been trying to avoid contact for the rest of the night, casually scrawling half-hearted notes on a napkin.

Persnickety smiled, though her brows were knit. It was a conflicting expression. She was happy to be of help, but at the same time...part of her just wanted to leave. She couldn't stand the thought of being so rude, though. Not after how excited she'd been the other night to go to the play and after party with him. "That's very kind of you, but I think I might just sit it out here, if you wouldn't mind..." She massaged the side of her head with a hoof, "I feel a bit of a headache coming on...but, do go and talk to them. I'm sure you're right - and they deserve the editorial spotlight. They do work so very hard." In any other occasion, she probably would've jumped at the chance to talk to the actors with him. Though in any other occasion, she probably wouldn't have been feeling her faith in her chosen career path slipping as much as it was, now.

Welcome to Canterlot! And correct me if I'm wrong, but is that a Johnpony I see in your icon? ewe

The brown pegasus lifted the mug of cider and unceremoniously downed a third of it without so much as blinking. Her date's words gave her a start, however, and a bit of it ended up in her nose. Good gracious, she was rarely this skittish. Though perhaps the evening's conversations were primarily the culprit. Persnickety cleared her throat, shaking her head at the stallion with a light smile. "She seems like a kind mare, some ponies are just cynical about their work. It's not uncommon, unfortunately..." Some were forced into certain jobs, others had no choice. And then there were the ones who thought to follow their dreams, and that...well. That was a slippery slope to traverse, perhaps even more than the others. "I'll be fine. Besides," she said, "you have to make up notes for a report on the night's events. It wouldn't do to keep you from your work." She glanced over her shoulder towards the heated debate between infamous Mister Pocket and whatever adversary he'd locked figurative horns with, "Goodness knows there are enough big-headed buffoons out, tonight..."

I come bearing pony art. Woah. Have a wee animated gif of my ponysona Tchotchke. She, uh...well. The title of the file is "discorded.gif." I'll leave it up to interpretation. And then a second one I'll leave behind a cut - same as the first, but ah...a teensy bit more "discorded," if you will.

Persnickety couldn't help but laugh at the thought of becoming a hairdresser. "Tempting as it might be, I can barely style my own mane." She sighed. "But, you are right about one thing. Mundane work would probably pay better than the unforgiving and fast-paced field of the arts." Her ears drooped a tad. This night...goodness. It was becoming more and more discouraging by the minute. At least Newsworthy and Clef made an effort to cease it before any more damage could be done, and the mare quickly scooted a pace or two back, crinkling her nose and reaching for her own drink. Which was empty, already. Eugh. But perhaps they're all right. Well, no. They are all right. It is a vicious field, and a thankless job for most everypony who goes into it. But, that is just the nature of it. I could go home a failure and work at the factory like my mother, or stay here and continue living in minimal conditions and work on plays and acting. The former sounds so temping at times. Goodness knows I've thought about it more than once... The crash across the room startled the pegasus from her thoughts, and she peered over at...oh. Oh. It was just Pocket Change giving someone else a hard time. She almost had the right mind to go over there and break them up, herself, but she was neither their keeper nor their babysitter, and she certainly didn't seem keen on starting, now. Instead, Persnickety gave a roll of her eyes and nodded to the tender. "Another, if you please? I think I am going to need it..."

((Riiiise, I say! RIIIIIIIISE!! *Resurrects thread.*)) Persnickety had no idea this night would quickly become so mentally draining. She should have known, though. At least there were a couple of ponies about to make it enjoyable, and she'd like the play. That accounted for at least a little bit. Maybe this evening she could settle in with a cup of tea and a good book... Once again snapped from her thoughts at the newcomer, she made sure to at least put on a smile. Sounded like a mare from Prance, if she spotted the accent properly. "A pleasure to meet you as well, madam," she replied, nodding respectfully. At least Miss Polish sounded far nicer - carried herself more like a decent mare, too. Not someone with their nose stuck five-miles up into Cloudsdale.

HAY. HAYYY. PERSNICKETY. PSST. YOU DIDN'T TELL ME YOU AND NEWSWORTHY KNEW HOW TO TANGO. Wh-...h-how did you get your grubby sausage-hands on that picture!? A friend of mine. UwU Did you have fun, at least...? ...*Coughs.* Perhaps... ((This is one of Neil's works but he suggested I put it up here and I just had to because oh my gosh guys look at this FLAWLESS PICTURE.))

Guys? Guys. I'm excite and scared, guys. Someone hold me.

"I suppose the only thing we can do is be optimistic about it all. Surely there is some power in positive thinking. That is a lovely dream, though, and at least it has the chance of coming true just as much as anypony else's dream." Oh, sure. She could give some words of encouragement to others, but when it came to encouraging herself, it was something she was rather miserable at. And though Newsworthy's words were unintentionally discouraging, they certainly did a good job at making her shrink away into that introverted little shell of hers. "I know," she said quietly, taking a small sip of her new mug of cider. "It's something I'm not terribly good at, either. And goodness knows I don't know very many someponies..." And I call myself an aspiring actress. The only time I'm outgoing is when I'm playing the role for something, for bucks sake. When I actually make an attempt to be outgoing, where does it get me in the theater business? Five miles up the creek without a paddle... "If she would even want to talk to me," the pegasus muttered, pausing and clearing her throat. "Sorry, that was rude of me. If she's an acquaintance of yours, then she's more than likely at least a little more civilized than the majority of the ritzy crowd, here. I'd be happy to meet her."

It's the magical, fluctuating pony style! An answer for her shiny new ask blog~ :U

Aaaaa, your art is awesome! You really do the show style justice.

"The joys of being an artist," Persnickety said with a hint of sarcasm, grinning. "Though if we were paid all the time, I doubt we would put such intense effort into what we do. It's all blood, sweat and tears." She raised a brow, "You must be a very good composer, though. I can't write music to save my life, though I do try. I've a musical or two that are sitting and decomposing by the wayside..." She nodded as he spoke again. It was always enjoyable and sometimes inspiring to hear tales from other ponies' lives. She finished off her cider and let out a small sigh, attention back to Newsworthy, "It's a real pity that - with operas, I mean. It attracts the more wealthy crowds as some sort of stereotypical, mainstream thing more than it does the ponies who actually enjoy them. Some of them are so powerful and moving..." But if she talked any more about it, no doubt she'd ramble on for most of the evening about Ponccini's melodic genius and how Madame Butterfly and La Boheme were true works of art in their own right. She listened quite contentedly to the blue stallion's aspirations for his newspaper busines, folding her hooves atop the bar as he talked. When he finished, she shook her head, that amused grin tugging the corner of her mouth, "It's fine. I only wish my dreams were so well thought-out. I suppose that I'd just like to write a play that I could be truly satisfied with...or actually get hired on as an actress full-time for a theater, somewhere." She shrugged. "Whichever comes first. If either come at all."

((Ew. That sounds pretty miserable, tacobob, I hope you get that fixed up soon! D:)) Persnickety merely nodded, though keeping hold of that pleasant exterior was more a chore than she'd hoped. "Do take care, the both of you! Thank you for the pleasant conversation!" She waited until both unicorns had left, before turning and stepping back over to the bar, her expression one of utter disgust. It was as if a big, ugly weight had been lifted from her shoulders. "Miserable bucking egoist, that one. I should have known she'd be so shallow. Nary an eye for talent," she grumbled, calming that fiery pegasus attitude by downing half of her cider in one go, crinkling her nose at Clef's two cents on the matter, "Mister Change is the type who will do anything for a pretty pl...a pretty face, if he thinks it'll benefit him. And you're not the only one. I only wish I could have told her off, the ill-nurtured popinjay." She shook her head, glancing over to Newsworthy, "Are all after-parties you go to like this? Rather, do you meet a great lot of ponies like...her?" At least the question as to how she'd met the blue newspony was enough to simmer that irritation for the time being, "I actually met him a couple of days ago at a cafe here in Stalliongrad, the Cider Cellar. A meeting of his at one of the nearby acting schools had been postponed." She left it at that for the time being, not entirely sure if he was privy to the incident that the group present that day had been involved in. "And what of you, dear sir? Is it safe to assume you are in the theater business somehow, or...?"