The Great Silver Screen Escape (invite only)

[OilWells]

The hills were alive with the sound of music and Talkie Buckman was just exiting a theatre, having enjoyed a slew of films. There was a skip in his step and a smile on his face as he was bursting with unbridled joy. There was nothing that Talkie loved more than going to the theatre. They provided a perfect kind of escape after a hard day, it was one of the few things that still held a sense of wonder to him. No matter how much he learned, no matter how many films he made, watching a movie in a theatre still filled him with a childlike innocence and presented its own kind of magic that just couldn't be matched.

Why did he love movies so much? He couldn't tell you. Well, he could, but it would probably spawn into so many tangents that you would, most likely, never get an answer. There was just something spellbinding about how the images went from being recorded on a set and translated into a beautiful story on screen where the characters became real and so much bigger than life. Frames were cut and spliced together too make a series of images that ponies could fall in love with.

He looked around; the sun was shining bright, the streets were full of life, anything was possible and he had his whole life in front of him. This was the kind of euphoria Talkie always felt after leaving theatre. Yes, he was sad that the movie had to end, but he always thought "how can I be sad when I live in a world where movies exist."

[Rainbolt]

Rosehoof gently placed the last rose in the vase by the door. A sweet aroma filling the air of his flower shop. He fixed the fedora on his head, black hair falling around his eyes. He was humming a small tune as he worked. Rosehoof worked at the Manehatten Florist Shop. It was a nice job, one he worked alone.

Rosehoof was a unicorn, with a redish/pink pelt, feathers around his hooves, a black choppy mane and tail, and a rosé for a cutiemark. The shop he worked at was made with great care. The lights were dim and Greek columns stretched around the room. Vines swirled up the columns. Varieties of flowers lined in baskets marked the room. Though one flower dominated everything, the rose. The symbol of love and healing to Rosehoof.

He flipped the sign with a hoof to "Be Back Soon" and headed outside. The light blinded him for a second, and he blinked emerald green eyes. He headed down the street, his hair flopping around, fedora drooping to the side. He seemed a bit rough with the way he walked. Not one to be a flourist. Though he was, it was his break now. He wasn't working and decided to have a walk around, maybe see a movie, or pick up more soil or flower seeds.

[OilWells]

Talkie had a funny little habit, one he has had since he was a young colt; he tend to view the world as if he were a camera. He would study his surroundings while trying to find angles and movements that he found pleasing to the eye (i.e. dutch shots, dolly shots, etc etc etc). This often meant he was turning his head in awkward and silly ways to do so. It also often meant he often lost focus on where he was walking, which usually ended in some sort of collision (i.e. light polls, stop signs, mail boxes, etc etc etc). Though despite the many mishaps, Talkie has been unable to break this habit, not that he has really tried, and even now he is walking down the sidewalk looking up at the buildings to show their massive presence (Low-angle shot? Check!).

Though, despite how it may seem, Talkie was more than just a movie-fanatic/maker; he loved to analyze things, to pick apart ideas, thoughts, and other such things to try and find reasons and origins. To him, the city was filled with things to be analyzed and pulled apart. Every city had a story to tell, every pony had a part to play in it, and no matter how small the role, they were all important. Talkie loved being filled with a sense of discovery and if he had a question, he was probably going to ask it. Write now his curiosity was dead-set on the origins of Manehattan; why here? Why did this, of all cities, become the metropolis it is today?

He began to turn the corner, his focus still on the buildings and not on where he was going.

[Rainbolt]

Rosehoof wasn't paying attention much himself. He was back to humming as he trotted along, swinging his head back and forth in the rays of glittering sunlight. He trotted over to a small vender selling vegetables and lemonade, a pony's favorite treat. He bought some carrots and a glass with some loose change. He pulled the stuff over to a table, and readily ate he snack. A thought crossed his mind as he drank down the lemonade. A bag would make life a lot easier, a nice saddle bag maybe.

When he was done he continued down the busy streets, going to look for a bag shop. However, his break was interrupted by someone bumping right into him. "Eh-excuse me sir." Rosehoof said shaking his head and then looking around for who had knocked into him, and looked down to see the pony who had.

[OilWells]

And it happened again, before he even realized it, he fell back on his plot after colliding with another pony. Seemed to becoming a familiar feeling at this point. He quickly began looking for the pony he hit and saw a gentlecolt standing before him. Talkie quickly stood back up on his hooves and smiles, "Oh no, excuse me. I probably should have been looking where I was going. My apologies," Talkie quickly started up, "In fact, allow me to introduce myself, Talkie Buckman"