In the Veiled Garden (Bohemian Club, Open)

[Blueblood]

Informally known as "The Low Society," the Bohemian Club has long had its headquarters in the Veiled Garden pub south of the University. Its membership and clientele largely consists of painters, writers, musicians, singers, journalists, and other impecunious scoundrels. Everypony seems to be deliberately defying convention with the same particularity that most in High Society try to adhere to it, particularly in matters of dress.

It is about as disreputable as social scenes get in this town without being actively criminal, but if you don't mind the company, you're almost always in for a good time.

The newest member of the club, a unicorn named Earth Writer, was just taking his seat by the window, in a position to hear and see most of what was going on in the performance room, as well as get a good view of the garden which had given the pub it's namesake.

Some time ago, a rather eccentric architect had devised a way of creating a rather beautiful green space in the city, in such a way as to be completely hidden from the street outside. The Veiled Garden had struck a chord with the artistic types in the city, and they quickly made the watering spot their home.

The new member was a journalist, permitted by custom to apply for membership since his profession gave publicity and credibility to the artists who rated publication. He certainly dressed to fit in, his tan frame was draped in a set of colorful clothes that were cut just a bit too loose and clashed just a bit too much to be really fashionable: a powder blue dinner jacket, orange tie, and brown trilby hat, with a press card stuck in the band as a signal of his profession.

He waited, now, eyes drinking in the, to him, novel sights of the place, awaiting the first strains of music that were to come to the stage. Would it be an undiscovered genius, or some poor deluded fool who thought they could play an instrument? Either was possible in the Veiled Garden...

[Zeig]

 

The Veiled Garden wasn't really his scene.

 

More often than not, Inkbrand preferred loud, wild, and near out of control masses of ponies. Going to the club on a late night in Manehatten, or throwing an impromptu party at his apartment, were more his slice of life. Pounding music, head banging tunes, spinning in circles with Wicked Rhythm simply because they were stupid and needed something stupid to do - all were Inkbrand's preferred choices of unwinding and letting loose.

 

Still, he had no qualms admitting that the Veiled Garden held its own charm.

 

There was a reason, after all, it had blossomed into a popular hotspot for a certain type of clientele, particularly the Bohemian Club. Anypony that considered themselves 'eccentric' usually liked to head into the area for its relaxed atmosphere, the surrounding ponies, and a chance to express whatever form of art they desired. He himself had been drawn to the collection of artists, toting his tattoos as their own brand of special art, and nopony had argued it. He supposed that the Veiled Garden could be called open-minded - really, he just thought they were all chill, and that was more than enough to bring a certain grey stallion sauntering through the doors.

 

No need to announce his arrival, but Inkbrand did pause for a quick hoof bump and a "Hey brother, what's going on," almost immediately upon entering as he passed a darkly colored stallion he could recognize by sight, but not by name. Other soft voices of recognition rose above the din, quick greetings from ponies that probably remembered his tattoos rather than anything about himself, but Inkbrand wasn't too surprised. He didn't often take time to visit the Veiled Garden, especially not as often as the regulars. Still, the grey Earth Pony didn't let the unfamiliar faces stop him as he continued weaving his way in between bodies, heading Celestia knows where.

 

Celestia knows where soon proved to be towards the window, and it took Inkbrand a moment to figure out exactly why. It wasn't uncommon for him not to recognize many of the ponies milling around, but Inkbrand was fairly certain that he'd never seen a reporter there. Or journalist? The stallion was wearing a hat with one of those cards sticking out of the top that made him imagine a fast-talking reporter looking for a scoop. His tail gave a little flick as Inkbrand stared at the other stallion, a contemplative gaze on his face. Nope, he couldn't remember ever seeing a journalist-type pony in here. Maybe the pub was trying to gain some publicity or credibility by opening up to the press? Luna knew that the Veiled Garden had a bit of a…reputation.

 

"I don't recognize your face," Inkbrand quipped as if he had a running tab on each and every single pony that frequented the pub, walking straight up to the pony to take a seat opposite of him. A hopefully guileless smile lit up his face, though Inkbrand would bet that it came out more predatory than innocent. If the pony really was part of some paper or journal, he'd have been crazy not to try and get some advertisement for his tattooing business. "What brings you to the Garden?"

 

[moonshineTheleocat]

The performance room remained quiet as a griffon slowly rolls his neck while he's on stage. Small crackles did fill the air, till he stopped to let a tallon carase his sore neck. “Mmmm, the most uncomfortable table I slept on yet,” the Leonard commented to himself as he looked down from the stage to the ponies who were setting up just behind him. Each one of them were trading off instruments, and swapping out sheet musics while he waited.

The griffon had been standing in the center of the stage quite lazily, and rather aloof to any eyes that were directed towards him. Having done plenty of stage performances in the past, he had grown quite accustomed to the hardened gazes of his audience. The Griffon wore what was close to a slightly modified zoot suit jacket, and a fedora of matching color. Both of their bases were a soft subtle cream color, where it was not bright enough to hurt the eyes, but enough to attract the occasional gaze. On the front portion of the fedora was an orange and brown argyle design, which was also repeated on the cuffs of the jacket's sleeves. He was reared back, and sitting on a chair. A saxophone was held in his left talon, and resting on top of his knee. His gaze remained aloof all the while he waited.

For those who frequented Manehatten enough, he was known as Leonard Wingstrong, or Mr. Saxbird when he was performing. The griffon was the assistant club manager of a highly popular night – jazz club in the center of the city. And probably the only known manager there. He was always looking for new talent to come up and play on his stage. Paid of course. And now here this griffon was, about to lay out some sultry notes in the air in the beauty of swing jazz.

His eyes had began to wonder, till a small hoof wave had caught his attention. His gaze shifted back down to the small bound, where he received a hoof's up to show that they were ready. His aloof look soon shifted to a devilish smile, and a nod was given back. “Right on,” he cooed to the crowd. His voice was a very smooth and brassy tone.

On his tail, small frills that had been strapped onto the appendage could be seen. Each tiny cymbal twinkled in the light. Once the tail began to sway, they clattered together, beginning a rather fast tempo for the band to follow.

The band first started off with a light bass strumming and piano that both danced through notes. The mood started soft, and mysterious. Like the night time sky deep in a forest. The Griffon slowly raised a talon up to direct them to play a little louder before the time came for the trumpet and drums to add in. Once the rest of the band was playing, the horn's reed was raised to the Saxbird's beak. He waited for all the instruments to drop into a lower note, and play softly to blow. Once he began, he started low and loud, and rose up in pitch. As he struck the higher notes, he allowed the tune to dance for a bit before exploding off into a jaunty jazz rhythm. The saxophone stayed mostly in the higher pitch notes, and occasionally dropped off into a low note as a method to break into another flow without destroying the rhythm. Each note was shot off in rapid succession, with only a select few high pitches actually being drawn out. Giving the song a new fiery atmosphere behind a night time scene. Possibly telling stories of ponies dancing the night away at a bonfire.

[Blueblood]

As a reporter, Earth Writer tended to play against type, in so far as fast-talking was concerned. He usually only did that when he had information to give, which was pretty much the opposite of what a reporter did for a living. Right now, he was taking in the atmosphere in silence, save for some scratchings of a pencil on a little pad of paper.

*The interior garden exhaled the incense of its flowers into the room, as if they wished to dance with the first low notes of the strumming bass on the stage. The piano took the stage, like the old primma donna who had lost nothing in her years. But it was not her night, and with reluctance, she passed back for the saxophone star to take the central stage...*

He leaned back to consider what he had inflicted upon the world. A trifle overblown, perhaps? Well, no matter; that could be cleaned up in revision, and if the editor didn't like it, he could blue pencil it out.

The unicorn was about to add a sentence or two on the subject of the griffon playing the sax, when his attention was arrested by another guest at his table. It seemed he was a regular at this establishment, or at least passed himself off as one. "I can't say I've seen you either. I'd have remembered if so." Indeed, the blue earth pony stallion was an unmistakeable figure. The body art in particular; Earth Writer hadn't seen tattoos so extensive outside the sea-docks.

Inkbrand's smile raised something like suspicion in the reporter, but he kept his voice calm and measured. "You here as a member? I was just inducted this morning. They like my kind around here; artists always like publicity." With a knowing smile, he extended his hoof. "My name's Earth Writer. What's yours?"

[RarityDash]

Lyra Heartstrings was a Canterlot mare by birth. Home had become Ponyville and more specifically wherever Bonnie was, but Canterlot was still where she was born and lived so much of her life. Now, of course, Lyra Heartstrings, blunt spoken and free spirited, was not the nostalgic sort of pony She didn't tend to linger on places or things. As far as she was concerned, Bon Bon aside, life was best lived wandering ahead in search of new adventures, and aside from Bon Bon she couldn't name very many things she cared at all to go back and revisit very many times. At the same time, she had strong memories of the Veiled Garden and the Bohemian Club. It was back during her failed stint as a Canterlot University student when she found the place and became a part of the club. it was a place with the right sort of character for her. Most ponies found her somewhat hard to understand and deal with, but at the Bohemian Club, the ponies weren't half bad. They appreciated her lyrical ballads at the least. It was at the Veiled Garden and a few other places in town that Lyra had figured it all out as she saw it. She had grown here.

Now she was back. She just happened to have wandered into Canterlot and decided on a whim to see her old haunt. it had been a while since her last visit, and there was no guarantee she'd even run into anypony she knew, but maybe it would be an opportunity to experience some good art. She even had her trusty lyre ready to bust out for a performance of her own at the first opportunity. She was seeing a good opportunity for a lot of fun.

Entering the Veiled Garden, Lyra marvelled for a moment at how it had remained relatively unchanged from her last visit well over a year ago. She nodded and bounced across the way, standing for a moment to appreciate the saxophonist griffon on stage with a full band. They were pretty good, she had to say. Lyra found herself moving to the music. She probably would have kept there watching the happening performance, until she happened to hear some stallion writing something off to the side talking to some other stallion with cool tattoos. She wouldn't have thought much of it, but she heard the former ask the latter if he was a member and say that he was inducted just that day. A new member, huh? Exciting! Lyra gave an enthusiastic bounce in their direction.

"Allow me to welcome you to the Bohemian Club!" Lyra started brightly, with a showy twirl before extending her hoof toward the first stallion. "I haven't stopped by in a while, but I've been a member for years now~!" she chirped excitedly.

"You can trust me when I say that in all of Canterlot there's no better scene than this," she added with a steady nod. She paused a second, gave an irreverent giggle and then continued, "Or at least there wasn't last time I checked for one."

​

[PedestrianWolf]

Ever since Fuchsia Blooms discovered the Veiled Garden, she would drop in as often as her schedule allowed. It was a hidden gem in the city, a venue that catered to artists, musicians, and other creative types. She was not a member of the Bohemian Club herself, but she did like to come listen to the live music and dance until her hooves hurt.

Tonight she was sitting by a window closest to the courtyard garden that gave the place its name. She had a glass of wine (rose, of course) and was listening to the jazz band led by a very talented sax playing griffon. Her tail swayed in tempo with the music, and she found herself wishing she had worn one of her spangly dresses, one with lots of sequins and beading. But no, she had come here directly from the shop, and as such was only wearing a lime green blouse and a few daisies woven into her mane.

She caught a snippet of conversation at one of the tables nearby. Fuchsia casually looked over and saw a tattooed stallion questioning another earth pony. She had seen the tattoo embellished pony here before, but never interacted with him. Honestly she didn't talk much with any of the club members, unless they started the conversation first. She was mainly here for the music and the pony-watching. And the occasional eavesdropping. As she sipped her drink a unicorn mare joined the two stallions. She recognized her at Lyra Heartstrings, who had played ballads on stage here at the club in the past. Fuchsia wondered if she was going to play tonight. She also idly wondered if there were any stallions here who knew how to swing. If the tempo of the music kept up, she wouldn't be able to resist the urge to jump out onto the dance floor much longer.

[Zeig]

 

Good and caught. Inkbrand didn't let it bother him however, waving off his incorrect guess of the pony's newcomer status with a vague wave of his hoof, though he had to wonder how the stallion didn't recognize him if he had only been inducted this morning. Perhaps he had visited the pub as a non-member often enough to recognize the regulars? Whatever the case, the stallion clearly wasn't too shy and out of his element to hold up a conversation, neither of which were anything other than pluses in his book.

 

"Inkbrand," he introduced, giving Earth Writer a firm hoofshake, "best bucking tattoo artist in Equestria." Soon, very soon. "You could say we do," the grey stallion said noncommittally, in response to Earth Writer's comment on 'liking his kind' around here. Artists surely tended to need all the advertisement they could get, but not every club like the attention of journalists. Especially the ones that looked for juicy and interesting scoops and blew stories out of proportion to make for a good read. Inkbrand didn't really have a problem with either type - it was just gossip, seriously - but he knew quite a few ponies on other scenes that would have raised up a fuss.

 

Anything he might have said further was momentarily stalled as the slow jazz on the stage suddenly took a more upbeat turn, smokey music turning to blue fire in a matter of seconds. Inkbrand stamped a hind hoof against the ground for a few moments as a soloist finished their refrain, but for the most part, the music was white noise to Inkbrand's ears. It might have been because of the jazzy quality of the music playing - more probably, it was because of the sudden appearance of a vaguely familiar mint green pony.

 

The name refused to come to him, but that didn't stop Inkbrand from abruptly swiveling around in his seat to sit on it backwards, resting one foreleg along the back of the chair to grin up at the unicorn. "What, no welcome for your old buddy Inkbrand?" he bemoaned in an exaggeratedly hurt voice, despite the fact that the two of them had never really interacted during their meetings at the Garden. Her cutie mark jolted a distorted memory of her performing on the stage a couple of times, but her name floated vaguely through the currents of his mind, annoyingly out of reach.

 

"They've changed the customary greeting since you've been gone," Inkbrand continued in a completely serious tone, belied by the mischievous leer splitting his lips as his eyes raked down her body, "now it's two kisses and a full-body hug between old members."

 

[Blueblood]

It wasn't just for publicity that reporters were admitted and identified as Bohemians; there was, in fact, an actual artistry to the journalist trade. After all, to make a pony forget that they had the right to remain silent, and that anything they said could and would be sent verbatim to the front porches of over 100,000 subscribers was a delicate task, to say the least.

But, as Earth Writer sized up Inkbrand as the stallion shook his hoof, he felt equal to the task. If the unicorn couldn't get the earth pony to talk about himself and his art for at least 20 minutes unguardedly, he might as well turn in his press card. "I'm afraid I don't know much about body art." He began ingenuously, with a frankly interested air, "I wouldn't think it allows for much creative scope, given that you're pretty much always working on commission." Earth Writer couldn't name an artist in existence who wasn't ready to educate a neophyte at length.

He made a little side-section on the pad of paper, keeping his interview notes separate from the rest. He might get two features tonight. Once he looked up, he saw that they had been joined by another, a mint green unicorn that looked vaguely familiar. Was she from Ponyville? Earth had been there on several occasions, mostly covering their holiday events. As it turned out, she was an old Bohemian. He'd probably seen her perform here in his student days. He gave a warm smile as he returned Lyra's handshake. "Pleased to meet you. Yes, I've climbed down into Low Society, alright. They've got the best music, without a doubt." It was true, and judging from the mare's cutie mark, also complimentary. He couldn't help but regard Inkbrand's flirting attempts with amusement; it might make for a paragraph of color in tonight's article.

The band continued to play onstage, beginning to move into a more swinging beat. If a dance was beginning, perhaps he would take a break. After all, if his interviewees were busy, it would be a waste to just sit out...

[moonshineTheleocat]

The song went on for several minutes. Approaching the near end of the song, the griffon's eyes closed. The drum line also changed. The stage's lightly The Griffon's wings quickly spread out as he stood up with enough force to send the stool he was sitting on flying back. With one harsh flap, he took to the air and stopped playing momentarily. Following suit, multiple other instruments stopped, leaving only the trumpets and pianist. Well, only one of the two trumpets as one of them had quickly set aside their current instrument to pick up a valved trombone. They slowly quieted themselves for a mere moment as the bass player changed out his instrument as well. He gently set the large instrument to the side to pick up a violin. And just as quickly as it was picked up, was it was played. The opening for what could have easily been opera was heard. The rythm was quick and the volume was rising. Once it reached a certain point, the other instruments strummed one note, forcing the violin back down a few octaves, and rose once more. Then again... and again. Then finally all the rest sparked back to life.

Their tempo and volume suddenly took a more vigorous note without a soft shift. The Piano's pace spead up quickly as the pony's hooves danced through the notes. The Trumpet and Trombone both played out quick and sharp notes, till the trumpet stoned to leave just the trombone to fly down it's slide under the same blow, with the valves alternating as required. It was a greater and more alarming fire behind them. After the trombone came to rest, so did the pianist. This left the griffon dancing through the air, picking up where they left off. The fire previously behind the sax, had dissipated into a softer, more curious tone. It was much slower, but multiple notes had been played successfully at once. The dancing through the air, with slow flips, drops, and swoops had also caused some form of distortion in the sound, yet it was all well planned, and quite precise. It lasted only for mere seconds, till he flew around the room, leaving the band to play their same part once more, only at a much faster pace. When the rest came, he played again, continuing where he left his solo off. The pattern continued once more, and finally, the song came to an end as the griffon swooped low from the ground and high into the air, ending the song with a single note dancing high and low in volume. With the story of those dancing ponies, soon bringing the party to a close as the sun rises up, signaling the time to return home. Once he stopped, his wings spread to stop his ascension, and allow him to bow to the audience. The band did the same.

“Hhmmmhmmhmmm,” he chuckled after landing next to the microphone. He slowly slung the sax back over his shoulder, and tucked it away behind his wing. “Thanks for listening. And... do give a round of applause to the crew accompanying me. Without them, this gig just won't work out.” He waited to allow for the crowd that was watching to finish their applause. “Now... to all the you musicians out there looking for a moment to shine. You may know this griffon,” he gestured to himself. His tone was smooth but brassy and softly spoken. The sort that belongs to a typical blues player, “as Mr. Saxbird, or Leo. But I also manage, and run a majority of the duties at the hottest club in Manehatten city. I'm always lookin for new talent to come play on my stage. If you'd like that opportunity, step on up here and play. Play that sweet sultry tune in your heart, and I'll see where I can take ya.”

With another polite bow, and tip of the hat, he stepped down from the stage to make his way outside of the performance hall to where all the other ponies and creatures were lounging. He had hoped that no one would be offended with him leaving the performance room, after all anyone playing or singing COULD be heard from outside in the garden.

[RarityDash]

"What, no welcome for your old buddy Inkbrand?"

Lyra stared at this strange pony for a moment, when he hit her with these words. She tilted her head aside, confused by what he was saying. She didn't know this guy at all. Sure, she might have seen them back in the days when she was a regular--with all his tattoos and stuff, he was a very distinctive, hard to forget stallion. She was pretty sure they had never really spoken though. Still, even if she didn't know him, who was she to spoil the fun? Sure, she wasn't even sure she really liked they guy or anything, but what was the harm in being friendly.

"I'm sorry, Somehow, I almost didn't recognize you!" she started awkwardly, giving a too wide grin. "How've you been Brand, my ol' pal!" she started somewhat obnoxiously, slapping the stallion on the back.

​

"They've changed the customary greeting since you've been gone, now it's two kisses and a full-body hug between old members."

At this Lyra gave a loud nod and a hard laugh. He was totally coming onto her wasn't he? Trying to take advantage of her absence to score a little closeness with the cute mare, huh? Well, Lyra wasn't going to let him have that so easy! She was in a committed relationship. Still, she smiled and continued nodding.

"You don't say!" she started loudly. "Well, I sure didn't hear about that," she said with a nod. Pausing, she then tilted her head to the side again and then giggled. "Well, why don't you demonstrate with him first, so I know how this new greeting is done!" she suggested, pointing her hoof toward the other stallion.

​

"Pleased to meet you. Yes, I've climbed down into Low Society, alright. They've got the best music, without a doubt."

"Isn't that the truth," Lyra said definitively, turning to the other stallion. "It's Lyra, by the way. Lyra Hearstrings. A pleasure to meet you indeed," she said with a smile.

She looked up toward the griffon and his band on stage as he stopped to speak to the crowd. She nodded and clapped her hooves for them. Saxbird of Manehattan, huh? Pretty cool. If she ever wandered down Manehattan way, she'd have to remember to check out that club of his.

"They're pretty good, aren't they?" she started, looking back toward the others. "So, do either of you guys do music?" she saw fit to ask.

​

[MetalBronyATL]

The night sky. What could you say about it? What could be said about the vast expanse of the sleeping heavens that shone down upon the resting world? What made Luna's domain so interesting? So unlike the rest of the natural world? Many see the night sky as a sign of day's end, a time to close their eyes and forget the worries of their hours spent awake. Then there are some who embrace the night, seeing the truest of beauty in it's comforting glow. There are those who do not see the night as a beacon of darkness, but as something to look at in awe and hold dear, finding a solace and beauty that no amount of light could possibly provide. To some, the night sky is a canvas for the most beautiful of art, and Moonshield was an artist of the night.

Not many who know of Moonshield would even begin to think of him as an artist, but rather for his profession. Moonshield was an astronomer, a disciple of the stars, working out of the Crystal Empire Observatory. His daily life involved telescopes and measurements, and very little of his time involved a creative thought. This didn't particularly bother him, however. He loved his job dearly, what else could he possibly see himself doing? Even before he earned his cutie mark he was mesmerized by the heavenly bodies, and was now living a dream job where he was paid to watch universe in motion. Still, there were times where tracking the orbit of a planet or the birth of a star left him wanting more. He sought a better way to express how much the world beyond the atmosphere of Equestria meant to him. Getting a chance to work at Canterlot's observatory was very much an ambition for him, but it wasn't exactly the perfect bliss of his passion he sought. This is where Moonshield the astronomer became Moonshield the artist.

It was unusual for crystal ponies to travel far beyond the borders of the Empire, an ancient kingdom and a long-thought extinct race rejoining society wasn't easy. This did little to stop Moonshield, however, as he had done much traveling in his career. It was enjoyable to him to see the beautiful night from new places in Equestria. He was granted some time away from the Observatory, and he jumped at the chance to see more of the world. Through his travels, he heard the whisperings of a place called the Veiled Garden, a gathering place for artisans such as himself. After a rather complicated search, the lime green crystal pony found the sacred ground of those who rejected High Society.

He immediately noticed how quaint the scene looked as soon as he walked inside. There were ponies all throughout the room engaged in some type of activity. He noticed musicians, poets, writers, and artists all partaking in their passion. "Whelp.....here goes nothing." he thought, as he unloaded his rather hefty saddlebags. From the bags he assembled two easels, each one of them receiving a previous work of art he had created. The first was rather simple, a navy colored sky dotted with a blanket of stars. The second was much more grabbing to the eye, depicting a swirling galaxy that he had been studying recently. The detail and sheer beauty of the image was breathtaking and was already causing some residents to turn their heads to catch a glimpse as they passed by. He sat in a nearby stool and grabbed a pencil and a new canvas, beginning to sketch a new portrait of the night sky.

[tacobob]

Zelda really needed to get out. The black griffon had been holed up in her workshop for so long, she not only had long forgotten what day it was, she also had managed to miss one of Equestria’s more ‘interesting events’. Apparently some crazy magical monster somehow managed to escape from Tartarus and cause all kinds of problems for the ponyfolk. She did not learn about this, until a rather exhausted R.E.A guard knocked on her door to see if she was alright.

It was also now spring.

Moments later, she tossed out a very brittle Hearth Warming Eve tree, and while she examined the crisp spring Canterlot weather, the young blacksmith decided she was going to have a bit of fun tonight. However, after giving herself a good sniff, it was decided she would need a bath. The griffon spent a half hour in the soapy hot water getting herself clean, while figuring out where she would go. She had considered heading over to the 'Ponyland', but she was starting to get a little tired of the old jazz club. She silently considered a few other places while she toweled herself off. As she went through her closet, a small card fell tumbled out from one of her dresses. Curious to see what it was, she picked it up and gave it a good look.

It was a membership card for a place called 'The Low Society'. It took her a moment, but the griffon remembered that she had been granted membership to the Bohemian Club after she made her transition from humble blacksmith to fancy smancy sculptor. For a brief moment in her lifetime, she was the talk of the town, and she was rewarded by it with a huge boost in business and the invitation to the club. Her first and only day at the club was cut short when a crazy magical monster escaped from imprisonment and wrecked a lot of havoc on the way to Ponyville. Maybe it was time for her second visit? While she was not sure it was even still open, Zelda decided to check the place out anyways. If it was closed, there was bound to be somewhere else of interest to go to. Also, what's the deal with all these crazy magical monsters?

After tossing on a few piles of chunky turquoise jewelry, and a snug, but flattering paisley dress, the griffon spent a moment checking herself out in the mirror, before she threw on an floral scarf and made her way outside. While the sun felt like tiny daggers being pushed into her eyes, it would be gone soon. Flipping the card over, she found the address, which was for a place called the 'Veiled Garden Pub' which wasn't that far from College Park. It was too bothersome of a walk, and she wasn't in the mood to fly, especially with that pesky sun in the sky, so the pub was just a short taxi ride away.

Once she arrived at the place, she knocked on the door, flashed her card and entered. The pub was already starting to fill up. There was a be-zoot-suited griffon on stage with his band. She spotted an unicorn stallion reporter-type who apparently was thrown up on by a J.C. Pony's. She also spotted a pretty mare with an light aquamarine coat and bright eyes, along with a few other ponies she took note of. One was covered with what appeared to be tattoos. She found herself staring at such a sight! Were they placed on his coat, like his cutie mark, or were they on his skin, which somehow could be seen through his fur?

After deciding on what she wanted to drink, the griffoness made her way to the bar, where she ordered a glass of 'Mare Brizard'. As she waited to be served, she watched as others entered the club and slowly pondered who she would chat with.

[Zeig]

 

Inkbrand's wide grin didn't falter, even when Lyra gave him a resoundingly strong slap on the back. At least she wasn't blushing and stammering and attempting to hide behind her own hair, like some mares felt the need to do. Even if she wasn't immediately responsive in a reciprocal way, the willingness to simply laugh and play along with it was more than enough. It didn't matter if he would end up hitting the hay with Lyra or not, what mattered was the game and the fun of it.

 

Seriously. Some ponies just took themselves and others too bucking seriously, didn't know how to take a joke or recognize a casual flirt. Like it offended their very core to be called "babe" or "doll". It reminded Inkbrand why he liked to spend time with the Club when he could - all the cool cats came down here to play, and they had nothing to do with the smooth jazz music.

 

"Pass," the grey Earth Pony said with a leer, in response to Lyra's invitation to try out the new "greeting" with Earth Writer, "it's a special greeting only for the hottest stallions and the prettiest mares." Which explained why he was initiating it, of course, the low music and chatty atmosphere quickly sending him into a playful mood. Chuckling a bit, Inkbrand gave Lyra a quick and flirtatious wink, before turning back around in his seat a bit to look towards Earth Writer, ears perking forward in some surprise.

 

"You bucking kidding me," Inkbrand blurt out, fully swinging back around to face the other stallion head on. He leaned forward with one elbow on the table as if he meant to share a great secret, even as his voice rose a bit in passion and volume. "Tattooing is the best kind of creative outlet," he explained, never mind that every artist tended to claim their own artistic medium to be the best. "It's body and soul, permanent and branding, and the canvas is the body itself. Even if I can't doodle random horsefeathers on a living body all the time, I can still get the ideas and pictures down onto paper." Inkbrand leant back a little in his chair, even as his bright golden eyes remained firmly fixed onto Earth Writer. Call him rude, call him perverted, call him a bucking hot mess of rotten apples - but Inkbrand would not be called apathetic about his work, and first true love.

 

Any other rant on the topic of tattoos, however, was forestalled when the sax playing griffon finished his solo, taking a bow and moving to speak into the microphone. Inkbrand stomped one of his hooves again in applause, though he did perk up a bit at the mention of the griffon owning a club in Manehatten - not only a club, but the hottest club, if Saxbird could be believed. Huh. Too bad he hadn't mentioned the name of the club, maybe it was one Inkbrand already frequented. Though, he probably would have been able to recognize the griffon if that was the case. Whatever it was, the grey stallion watched the griffon exit the stage for a moment, before turning his head around towards Lyra again.

 

"Hmm? In a sense," Inkbrand said slyly as he rested his head onto one upturned hoof. Somehow, he didn't think that Lyra would count being able to make a pony's body sing as, "doing music", but the point remained. "But I do my best work on bodies." True, true. About to say more, the tattoo-clad stallion trailed off for a moment, spying a sheer black griffon walking into the pub. It was rather hard to miss her - amidst the colorful and sometimes obnoxiously offensive clothing some of the regulars wore, the sheen of pure onyx black seemed to stand out like a beacon rather than blend away, a bright and bold shadowing weaving in between color and sound. Inkbrand's eyes followed her to the bar and took note of her sitting down, before he turned his attention back towards the other two at the table.

 

"Speaking of commissions," he continued, as if he hadn't dropped a sizable pause in the conversation, "it's obvious you're interested. I'm thinking something small, simple - a black coil around your foreleg, something to imitate quill writings. It'll match your cutie mark."

 

 

[Blueblood]

After joining in the well-deserved round of applause for the jazz performance onstage, Earth Writer returned to the rather entertaining conversation in front of him. He snorted with laughter at Lyra's redirection of the stallion's intended attentions, raising an amused eyebrow at Inkbrand's reason for refusal. "Ought I to feel insulted by that, Lyra? I don't, but that's probably because you're the only qualified 'greeter' present." The good humor and raillery that the Bohemian club had earned a reputation for cut both ways, and led sometimes to invigorating exchanges of quips, retorts, and rejoinders. Many playwrights came to the Veiled Garden to fill their manuscript up with overheard dialogue.

The unicorn shook his head in response to Lyra's question. "No, I don't have much talent in that way. My sister does, though; does voice lessons in Manehatten, last I heard."

There was little enough time for chit-chat, however. Inkbrand was talking now, and Earth was vigorously, if subtly, taking down his words. "Interesting... so the client actually selects from a catalog of pre-done designs, or do you walk through their concepts individually, until they're satisfied enough to have the design done?" He really didn't know much about how tattoo parlors worked, and he was willing to bet his readers didn't either. This was going to turn into quite an educational feature. When Inkbrand mentioned him actually getting one himself, the reporter humored him, magically rolling up his sleeve in an attempt to visualize the design. "Hm... no, I don't see it. The only thing I ever had in that line was a capital letter T in Gothic typeface on my right cheek, imprinted there when the printing press exploded." He turned his face, where a faint imprint could still be seen. "It rather turned my mind off the concept. But, if I have a change of heart, I'll let you know."

Some new faces were entering the bar parlor now; including what appeared to be a prospective member, showing off some paintings. Earth made a mental note to join in the evaluation once he concluded his interview; as a new club member, he now had a vote in such matters.

(I'm not going to be able to interact with everyone at once; so don't feel guilty if you want to set up a separate conversation table for now)

[PedestrianWolf]

Fuchsia stomped her hooves in appreciation for the band when they stopped playing, and the griffon announced that he was opening up the stage to anyone else who wanted to perform tonight. She looked around to see if anypony would take him up on his offer, but instead another newcomer caught her eye. A green crystal pony was setting up easels and canvases in one corner. Intrigued, the cream colored unicorn mare got up and wandered over to get a better look.

"These are gorgeous, if you don't mind my saying so." she said to the artist, after gazing at the paintings for awhile. "You must spend an awful lot of time staring at the night sky." Fuchsia was not an artist in the traditional sense, but she respected all creative talents. The paintings were giving her ideas for floral arrangements. Perhaps a base of dark blooms, like purple tulips and iris, with a scattering of baby's breath and white asters? "Do you mind if I watch you work for awhile?"

[starswirlthebearded]

Harmonic Dissonance was no stranger to the Bohemian Club in Canterlot. Though she didn't frequent it, her mentor had brought her there many times before and became a member quickly. The rambunctious group of artists, writers and musicians made for a perfect place to open up the creative flow. And Dissy still came to freeform. This is one of the few places that ponies got to see a show they'd not see any place else. She didn't always experiment, didn't go crazy with her normal playing style, half the time she found her way back to her roots at the beginning of her long musical journey and played regular improv jazz. Whether it was solo or with a group.

Much like her mentor did, she brought with her her niece. A young musician herself, though still without her cutie mark, and if any place could help a young musician find their passion it was this. Sure touring clubs is fine but there was something special about the meeting of other creative minds and souls. Still though she normally went with the flow, with Bebop with her she had to keep her wits about her to make sure the mute filly would be safe. She did promise her guardians after all to look after the filly on this excursion to Canterlot.

Dissy slid into the club, with Bebop trailing behind, as smooth as her playing. Apparently an act had just concluded... "I seem to have missed the gig. Was the band swinging or a flat tire?" The jazzmare came into where she saw a tattooed pony and few others conversing. "If it was a bore, let this jazz mare light this joint up." Dissy stopped a moment realizing she had not introduced herself. "Almost forgot to introduce. This little kitten here is my niece, Bebop Slide. Hoping to find her musical voice. And I am Harmonic Dissonance, jazz mare extrordinare. an old member of this club, having joined through my mentor when I was not much older than this one." Dissy finished her introductions. She wasn't sure what to make of the tattooed pony, but she knew all sorts of characters frequented here, but one thing was always for sure... this place had magic that brought out the best creative minds all across Equestria.

[MetalBronyATL]

That didn't take long.

He had only begun to finish the outlines of his next portrait, a distant planet in some far off galaxy, wrapped in the beautiful expanse of space, dotted in small flickering stars and watched over by a nearby moon. At least, that's what it would look like once finished.

The compliment he had just recieved from the unicorn mare had made it official. Moonshield the Astronomer was now also Moonshield the Artist. "Why, thank you." he replied, a warm feeling coming over him that somepony actually thought his work was beautiful. "And yes, I do spend a lot of time watching the stars. It is my job after all." He got up from the stool and set up a third easel, placing the new picture carefully onto it. "I'm an astronomer back in the Empire. Couldn't ask for a better line of work. I get paid to do what I have loved doing since I was a colt. But money is only a bonus compared to just the simple fact that I can admire the beautiful night sky. That's where the painting comes in." He prepared a small tray of different colors, and took a few brushes out. "Of course you can watch me. I appreciate that you think my paintings are worth watching." he added with a warm smile. "My name is Moonshield by the way. Pleasure to meet you."

[moonshineTheleocat]

Leo finally made it up to the group of ponies who were all sitting at the tables in time to see quite a humorous display. A tattooed pony apparently being a squirrel trying to get a nut, another pony who simply wouldn't be an easy catch for the tattooed one, and then a reporter who had been caught all in the mix of things. A smirk crossed his beak, and he chirped in.

“Aww... what's the matter smooth talker,” He chuckled in his calm laid back voice. He removed his hat as he sauntered up to the stallion, and slipped it onto his head if he was able to. He then strutted on past to take a seat near him. He could probably tell the real reason as to why Inkbrand just wouldn't demonstrate his little trick to the stallion. His voice dropped a bit lower as he craned his head forward, and rested it in both talons, “too good for the stallion? Or are ya just lust burnin for the filly.”

He slowly drew a talon into his jacket, and pulled out what looked like a flattened disk. He twirled it around his finger for just a moment, then pinched down on the rim. With the flick of the risk, the disk suddenly took shape into an identical hat. The hat was then slipped on his head as he noticed yet another group step inside. Two ponies, one who claimed herself as a jazz mare, and the other... well a little fillie who's yet to spread her wings.

“Hmmhmmhmm...” the griffon chuckled and waved the two on over closer to him. “Swingin I hope. A flat tire is no good, but it can still get somewhere. But ya call your self a jazz extrodinare, eh? What instrument are you blazing?”

[Pretzelparty]

This trip was gonna be so much fun! The little jazz loving filly could hardly contain herself, she wasn't even sure she'd be able to write as steady as usual. It was so great to be in Canterlot again, the sights, the sounds, the ponies with creative flare all these things drew the young blankflank jazz lover to the city like a moth to a flame. Being here with her favorite aunt was the super delicious,tasty icing on the cake! One of the first things that Bebop did when she saw her aunty dissy was hug her as tight as she could and then after a blush of embarrassment put on her best smooth/cool face and tried to wrote down on her notepad (which she currently had hanging from her neck by a string) and asked her, "How's it going?" in her most fancy of script.

-----The Veiled Garden-----

Bebop was determined to play this as cool as her aunt, the last thing she wanted to do was look like a square in front of Dissy's fellow artists. Speaking of artists, this place was almost packed and a really diverese scene; there were even griffins here! There was one stallion that caught her eye, this guy was almost covered in super cool tattoos! He must really take his artwork seriously if he was willing to emblazon it on his body! It looked like the Dissy and her little companion had mist the first act, a fact that made the blonde maned filly give a slight huff and purse her lips. She was really looking forward to hearing some music from Canterlot's finest! Oh well, the first act probably wasn't gonna be the last.

"I seem to have missed the gig. Was the band swinging or a flat tire?" The jazzmare came into where she saw a tattooed pony and few others conversing. "If it was a bore, let this jazz mare light this joint up." Dissy stopped a moment realizing she had not introduced herself. "Almost forgot to introduce. This little kitten here is my niece, Bebop Slide. Hoping to find her musical voice. And I am Harmonic Dissonance, jazz mare extrordinare. an old member of this club, having joined through my mentor when I was not much older than this one."

The little filly immediately took a pecnil in her mouth and held her notepad up to it with her hooves, soon her horn lit up and the pencil was covered by a bright orange aura. After a series of movemnts against the paper, Bebop turned to her aunt to let her see what she thought about her first statement. On the paper it said that next to Dissonant harmony she thought most bands were either flat tires or partially deflated ones.

Once the Jazzy mare introduced her to the group the filly's attempt a cool and composed demeanor almost melted entirely off her as she almost reflexively hid behind her aunt almost being the keyword. She'd managed to freeze up a bit before she could but took a deep breath and waved a hoof at the rest of the patrons. Reaching to the book on her neck she flipped the page to a blank one so she could say hello. Quickly she wrote down her greeting, "Nice to meet everyone! I'm really excited to be here!" she wrote in block letters along with a little smiley faces musical note on the side of the written words.

Bebop is physically unable to speak, she communicates through her notepad for the time being

[RarityDash]

"Pass, it's a special greeting only for the hottest stallions and the prettiest mares."

"Ought I to feel insulted by that, Lyra? I don't, but that's probably because you're the only qualified 'greeter' present."

Lyra smiled at the amusing exchange. It was clear the tattooed stallion was something of a lothario. She didn't really have to deal with those types very often, but figuring out how to play it was sure to be interesting. She could probably, of course, mostly shut the guy up instantly by just saying she was in a committed relationship, and with another mare, but where was the fun in that? There was a place for bluntness, and Lyra was usually quick to find it, but the Bohemian club was about having a little fun. She knew this smug stallion wasn't about to get anywhere with her, but he didn't have to know that quite yet. Instead, she'd play it more elusively. She laughed and smiled at the writer.

"I wouldn't be too hurt by it. I doubt meeting the standards set by our old pal Inkbrand here is the kind of honor many aspire to," she said slyly, giggling as she looked at the other stallion.

​

"Hmm? In a sense, But I do my best work on bodies."

"No, I don't have much talent in that way. My sister does, though; does voice lessons in Manehatten, last I heard."

Lyra nodded at the responses she got. Celestia, this tattoo guy never stopped. it was comical really. The other stallion was entirely reasonable and struck Lyra as rather intelligent on the other hoof. He seemed cool and like good material for the Bohemian Club.

"Well, we all do have our talents, I suppose," she said with a laugh, looking at the none too subtle earth pony stallion. Just then, the group was approached by some others, a mare and a young filly.

​

"I seem to have missed the gig. Was the band swinging or a flat tire? If it was a bore, let this jazz mare light this joint up. Almost forgot to introduce. This little kitten here is my niece, Bebop Slide. Hoping to find her musical voice. And I am Harmonic Dissonance, jazz mare extrordinare. an old member of this club, having joined through my mentor when I was not much older than this one."

"Nice to meet everyone! I'm really excited to be here!"

She liked how the mare talked. She seemed really hip and cool. She was the sort who belonged there at the club for sure. As for the filly, the way she talked was interesting too, as she didn't talk. Instead, she communicated by writing it. Was she unable to talk, or just really shy to speak? Either was, she was a little cutie and also vaguely familiar.

"I've seen you around before, haven't I, little one? You live in Ponyville, don't you?" she asked with a smile. Ponyville was a small town compared to someplace like Canterlot. Lyra far from knew everyone, of course, but faces stood out more there than in Canterlot or another really big city, especially since she made her way playing her music in the busy open market, usually a short distance from Bon Bon's chocolate stand, where she was one to see most of the town's faces pass by.

Turning to the mare, and then nodding at the griffon who had just been on stage and had approached them, she smiled. "I thought this guy and his band were pretty sweet, personally. Though by all means, I'm sure we'd all be eager to see how you light it up!"

​

[Zeig]

 

Ha! And ponies called him blunt!

 

Inkbrand shared a toothy grin with Saxbird - Leo, as he seemed to be called - as the griffon came over towards their table, all smooth swagger and deep voice. "Lust's got nothing to do with it, brother," he extrapolated, with a leer in Lyra's direction, "guys just don't do it for me." Not that they didn't try…but as awesome as it was to know that he was hot enough for even other stallions to hit on him, they were just missing the soft curves and lithe suppleness that most mares had.

 

Except Wicked Rhythm. She was stallion enough for all of Manehatten, and had the looks to back it up.

 

"Either," Inkbrand answered succinctly, in response to Earth Writer's various questions about his tattooing work. It was rather refreshing to see some genuine interest in his line of business, even if that interest seemed to stem only from lack of knowledge rather than the knowledge he was obtaining itself. Whatever worked for him - free advertisement was free advertisement, so long as the journalist didn't try to turn the impromptu interview into some inside exposé, or some bull rot like that.

 

"Some clients don't know what they want and choose from my designs," the grey stallion continued on, leaning back in his chair a bit, "some know exactly what they want and bring me their own sketches. Hay, I've even had clients that insisted on watching in the mirror as I went," Inkbrand elaborated, and buck, those customers had to be the most annoying of all. At least he got to charge double for those, since he essentially did twice the work with a temporary dye layer to ensure satisfaction, before going back over it with the more permanent tattoos.

 

When the stallion brushed off his offer for a tattoo, Inkbrand merely shrugged, though a sly smile stole across his lips. "Don't sweat it," he said vaguely, waving a hoof through the air, "not everypony can handle an Inking." The last was directed more towards Lyra, along with a wink - but before Inkbrand could elaborate on how he might make the experience easier on her, an unfamiliar face showed up at their table, diverting the grey pony's attention with a somewhat interested raise of his eyebrows.

 

He didn't recognize the mare that was speaking, even as he lazily nodded his head at her introduction as an old member of the Club. Inkbrand supposed that shouldn't have been so surprising, given that he didn't frequent the Veiled Garden all that often. Perhaps even more surprising, though, was that Harmoinc Dissonance had brought a filly with her - a niece, he thought she said? - to this place. Though a generally friendly environment overall, the Veiled Garden definitely had a…reputation, floating around it, and it wasn't exactly a place of choice for ponies to bring their young fillies along.

 

Though maybe not so young. Inkbrand watched, in a somewhat bemused fashion, as the dark brown filly introduced herself via written words and…smiling music notes. Was she mute? She certainly wasn't shy, given her lively eyes dancing behind dark lashes. Whatever the case, maybe it wasn't so strange for Dissonance to have brought her here. Inkbrand could vaguely remembering being at that age, raring and ready to make his mark on the world with his tattooing business. He'd been frequenting tattoo parlors around that age - why shouldn't a musical filly be frequenting artistic clubs?

 

And buck, their table was starting to get crowded. Maybe it was time to head over to the bar. For a drink, of course.

 

"Hope's got buck all to do with it," Inkbrand chuckled lowly under his breath, slowly sliding out of his seat to settle back onto all fours. "Make sure you stay excited when its your turn on the stage, Slide," he commented, as if confident she would be performing that day, holding out a foreleg to bump hooves against the filly's own. Inkbrand allowed his tail to flick lightly, a brief and monetary goodbye to the assembled cast of ponies, before sliding out of the area and making his way across the floor, his pace sedated and casual as if he were taking a stroll through the park. In no time at all, Inkbrand had reached the bar, and wasted no time setting out to get what he wanted.

 

"So I've got this problem," the tattoo-clad stallion stated conversationally, raising a hoof to flag down the bartender and not even turning to speak to the black griffon next to him, even though it was obvious he was addressing her. "I've got an itching for a drink and nopony to share it with. Care to help a stallion out?" Inkbrand asked, only then switching his gaze and flirtatious grin over to the griffon to make sure no mistake was made on who he was talking to.

 

[Blueblood]

It was not without some hidden relief that Earth Writer accepted Inkbrand's lack of an enthusiastic greeting. He himself was as taken as Lyra, and so could laugh at the whole exchange as just another thing at the Bohemian club. It was good not to have to worry about seeming respectable. Not a lot of ponies thought journalists respectable anyhow.

While Inkbrand probably didn't care about that aspect, the unicorn could tell that an immediately-published expose would probably burn bridges with the earth pony. Which was fine; he wanted to do more research for the article anyway. *History of body art, must research further; cultural differences in origins of tattoo designs. Contrast with clothes as physical method of personal expression.* That would do for a preliminary outline; he jotted it down next to his interview notes.

"Interesting; I should like to see you at work sometime. There's only so much an artist can convey without demonstration. If you've got a copy of your portfolio, I'd also like to take a look." He closed his notebook, no need to push things further at the moment. There were other interesting characters to meet, after all.

There were, for example, the congregation of musicians around his table. "I'd say you did your club proud, Mr. Saxbird. I'll be sure to drop by when I'm in Manehattan. My work brings me to a lot of far-flung places; I like to see what's best in each." He grinned at the griffon, tipping his hat to Dizzy and her niece. "He's a hard act to follow, but I don't imagine that will discourage you, eh?"

Earth got up from the table, preparing to amble over to the prospective member's display, but encountered Bebop and her notepad. Unlike his, this one was apparently a method of broadcasting rather than reception. He bent down to look at the message, before looking over her with a more intrigued expression. "So, what do we have here? A foal prodigy, an apprentice in the fine arts, or just a filly out for a good time?" There might be something interesting here; at least it would make for good color.

[tacobob]

Zelda slowly sipped from her glass of 'Mare Brizard' as she took in the pub's atmosphere. She was slightly disappointed that she was unfamiliar with the faces that were floating about. She had hopped to run into a few of her fellow sculptors from whom she would pick up useful and interesting tips, but it looked like she was going to have to make new friends. As she pondered her situation, she noticed that someone had actually brought a filly into the establishment! How odd. She went to turn her attention back to the other patrons when something caught he notice. She was an insufferably adorable filly, but there was something else. She appeared to be writing in a notebook and showing it off to an older mare, who was probably her mother. There was something familiar about the girl, but she could not put her claw to it.

She glanced away from the filly, only to lock eyes with the tattooed stallion she had noticed when she had first entered the pub. Did he catch her staring at his impressive ink-work? Oh she had hoped not! The griffon probably had the oddest look on her face as she had studied the markings, trying her best to see how they were done and how far they went. "Oh that's a pity.", she purred, "There's nothing as terrible in this world of ours as being sober and lonely, so I'll be more than happy to help you, my little pony.", she held up her glass, which was now empty, "You'll have to tell me all about yourself and those wonderful markings you have there. I'm Zelda. Sculptor, blacksmith, occasional adventurer.", she managed to keep a smile on her beak even after realizing what she had just said sounded much better in her head.

[PedestrianWolf]

"My name is Moonshield by the way. Pleasure to meet you." replied the crystal pony artist astronomer.

"Fuchsia Blooms. I'm a florist here in Canterlot. It's a pleasure to meet you as well." The unicorn mare pulled up a stool and sat down just off to the side, so she could converse with Moonshield and watch him work at the same time. "I understand how wonderful it is to do what you love and get paid for it. I've adored growing flowers since I was a filly, and now I get to share them with everypony who comes in to my shop."

She watched in fascination as he mixed the paints on his palette. She knew about color theory, of course, how certain colors looked paired with others. She used it all the time when making bouquets and floral arrangements. It was very interesting to watch somepony else use those same concepts in another medium.

"So, Moonshield, what brings you here from the Crystal Empire? Aside from this charming little establishment, that is."

[MetalBronyATL]

Moonshield took a brush in his mouth and dipped it in one of the colors on the palette. Beginning to carefully paint the planet a vibrant orange color, he concentrated on the detail and precision of the image we was attempting to bring to life. After a few moments, the rough sketch of the heavenly body was beginning to come to life. "I've seen some of the flowers in Canterlot, and I must say they are quite beautiful. Some of your work I'm assuming?" Moonshield asked, putting his brush into a small cup of water, gently stirring the liquid to remove the orange paint. The cup turned a shade of orange as the color left the brush.

"So, Moonshield, what brings you here from the Crystal Empire? Aside from this charming little establishment, that is." The unicorn mare asked.

"I tend to travel a lot when I have some down time. Somepony once told me that there is more to life outside of the Crystal Empire Observatory, and I took that advice." The crystal stallion replied, preparing to add a touch of red to his orange planet. "Canterlot is among the places I visit the most. I visit the Canterlot Observatory every time I'm here, it's where I wish to work someday. Only the most experienced and dedicated are allowed to watch the skies from within their walls." He picked the brush back up and added finely painted red swirls into the massive orange body. The planet was beginning to make it's presence known in the portrait among the stars that were yet to be given life. "This time is different though. I've really wanted to show my paintings to ponies. I've heard the rumors about this fine little place and figured it would be worth a shot, and judging by the few ponies who have stopped to have a quick look, and at least one pony who stopped to watch..." he said, nudging Fuchsia playfully with his hoof. "...I'd say so far, so good."