Sweet Goodbye

The shorter hand slowly approached the number eight. It had left seven long ago.

It was a rare occasion, when nothing else overwhelmed its simple beat. The mare was entertained by nothing more than the lonely ticking of the clock.

She was perfectly alone in her room, just as she wanted it. No artist likes having their tiresome, sweaty labor interrupted, or even peeked on by curious eyes, before it reaches perfection. And she was working on something truly beautiful.

She sunk her shapely white backside into a pillow, the purple and gold color of the three lilies that adorned her fur harmonizing with the crimson plush. She stared with her lovely violet eyes into an oval mirror, which had been set up on the dark wooden table before her. Mild mauve toned, glorious wavy mane poured down from her high held head, over her neck, and onto her shoulders. Most of the locks ended in a complete curl, but some only had a slight curve, reaching beyond the others, making her hairdo an exquisite, designed chaos.

Faint, sensual pink dye covered her eyelids, while their edges were painted black. Only on the left side, though. She was currently gazing at the other one’s closed reflection, its borders still unstained.

She leaned closer, her horn lighting up and wrapping a long pencil of eyeliner in a sparkling rose colored aura of magic. She tended to her eye with small, delicate motions, tracing the same line multiple times, only moving inwards once it was visible enough. After she reached the inner end, she moved back to the outer corner, and further thickened the contour, until it briefly covered the brim of the lower lid too.

She finally opened her eye, finishing another part of her masterpiece. Once assured from another point of view that her eyeliner was indeed flawlessly applied, she flashed a slight, cheerful smile, then popped the cap back on her instrument of vanity and placed it back on her table.

However, a bit of highlighting alone would not create the perfect illusion of lush eyelashes. For that she had to refine the lashes themselves. Next, she wrapped a scissors-like, brass coloured device in her magic.

She placed her lashes between the pair of slightly arched metal jaws on its end, then shut them close, pressed them down for a moment, and finally let go. This trended her eyelashes with success, and as she pulled the curler away, she further perfected their curve. She then proceeded to repeat the process on the other side.

After she put the tool down on the table, she lifted another small sealed tube in its place. It split in two with a click, revealing complete darkness in one half and a small rod with a brushlike ending on the other. After rubbing off some excess dye in the brink of the empty part, she lifted the brush to the fibers bordering her eye.

She touched it to their stems lightly, then started moving to their ends, barely jolting it back and forth in an effort to avoid lumps and sticking that would ruin her day. She did an ideal job, covering them so that they were thick and rich. She progressed from left to right, making sure to only paint each part once, and to only coat the upper lashes.

Highlighting her stare from the below too would have been too much of a hassle, and also needlessly dramatic. It wasn’t like she was preparing for a grand, formal event; this little meetup was only important for her and her partner.

Nor did she have to take drastic measures to make herself attractive—nature had spared her from a lot of drudge in that department.

With a final move, her eyes were at long last finished. The eyeshadow, liner and mascara all came together to create a desirable, enthralling gaze.

She had left the windows of her soul for last—the rest of her face had already been painted with makeup. Her cheeks bore a slight blush, and the thin fur covering her head had also received some care. Even the smallest fault could get between the cogs of the machine and ruin the whole picture. She had made sure to avert that.

Her apparel achieved its prime, improving her already fetching and alluring beauty, as even the diamond looks more amazing when chiseled—and she was more than willing to flaunt such a gem before the chosen of her heart.

It had been several months now, since they truly learned about each other, confessed their feelings, and thanks to the many similarities they found, started dating. Ever since then, flames had been dancing in their hearts, surely warming their chests, yet fluttering wildly and passionately. She was sure she would never forget the stallion.

One final touch: she grabbed a round bottle, and removed its cap, revealing a sprayer. She held it to her neck and pressed it, sprinkling a gentle strawberry scent on herself, then peppered some from the other side too, and finished on her breast.

Almost ready to part for the date, her soul shivered in anticipation. However, she couldn’t rush things. She still had some preparations left, and had to collect some equipment, so she wouldn’t get any unpleasant surprises.

She lifted her slender backside from the pillows, and finally stretched her legs, making her hooves knock lightly on the floor. Her horn lit up again, and some recently used bottles rose from the table in pink mist. They followed her through the air as she walked to another part of the hectic-red room.

Her deep purple saddlebag was laying on the top of a shoulder-high cabinet. She opened its lily-shaped metal clasp and placed her collection next to her wallet. She had to be ready for correction, should an unfortunate event ruin the fruit of her labor—after all, spoiled makeup would be even worse than no makeup at all.

She lifted the whole container and strapped it on herself. It was as large as the bags she used for shopping, or longer trips, so her minor belongings and toiletries had plenty of space.

She walked up to the door. Tissues, keys, bus tickets, and any other instruments required for dating lay in the other parts of her home, arranged in an anarchic manner.

After the door shut loudly the ticking of the clock was left alone. It no longer had any competition, although it had lost its audience too. There was no one left to please, only itself. It soloed on in solitude, long into the night…