To be Rustic

Fleur never thought her life would spiral so wildly. She couldn't help but lay in the bed simply thinking. Life was something she regret. Life wasn't great as she wanted it to be. No-perhaps she didn't regret living. That was a bit too far. She regretted the life she lived, however. She became what she dreaded after Prose died. She wanted something that she never received without her mother being so pushy. She was a model. Nothing felt better in any filly's eyes than to be one. It meant you had beauty that couldn't be challenged.

"Beauty.." She laughed at the idea. She didn't have the beauty that others dared to even praise her for! She was simply carved into a form, nothing new. In fact, she was generic as any other pony out there with similar bod as her. The only difference, she of course could tell, as the fake cute cutie mark. It was clear it was a fake, she printed over it somewhat daily. It wasn't what she was destined for. Her real mark was nothing that she could accomplish anyway. "Modeling is beauty, beauty is great.." She mused at the idea. It was a lie of course. She seen her fair share of eating disordered mares that would later get rejected based on moral alone. She knew what wet on after the shows, after the digs came and went. It was sickening.

She levitated a notepad and quill, her thoughts never leaving her at once. Her head leaned back as she groaned out from invisible pain. Her mind was being eaten by parasite beliefs that ate and ate at her insides they did. The more she thought, the harder it was to concentrate.

"Beauty is defined by body!"

"Modeling IS beauty, every filly's dream!"

"Spotlights shine on beauty, not writing!"

Fleur cried out as she tried scratching out the words. Images of the distressed from the career flashed through her mind. She saw the after picture. The drug seducing ponies that crowded around, promising grandeur and fame to market. Nicotine ads placed from those unlucky mares. Scandals were constantly roaming about-she herself been in a few due to the "glamour" of fame. It was nauseating. She threw out a piece of paper scrawled out like a mad mare, scratches and holes poking in each sentence made. The cycle repeated, going on and on. Her mother, Cassette being the focus.

"Cassette's eating disorder:LIVE"

"PITY THE STORY WRITER"

"HOLD HER HEAD UP HIGH"

"PUKE; AIM."

Her vision clouded as she swore she remembered holding her mother by the mane, making sure she'll stay perfectly fine. She remembered the agonizing pleas. Prose left-gone. She felt tears escape as she begged her mother to stop. But her mother didn't stop there. It kept replaying. The cycle repeated as she grew closer and closer, her heart drawing closer to a conclusion and her heart fluttering on from the memory. Then, on the final piece of paper and ink that she had was one, single word that meant the world to her at the moment.

"Rustic"

Fleur knew what the word meant, obviously, but she didn't understand it. She didn't know what rustic meant. Yet, she felt something so..invigorating . Something that made her feel free at the thought of the word. Rustic. She tried picturing it, but nothing came to mind. That is, except something that she didn't consider to be possible. She only had met her once prior, yet something in her mind made her click and piece it. The orange fur of hers would make her jealous-it was spotless, and even if it wasn't, to Fleur, it was perfect even if messy. The mane that was a lush of yellow bundles and the green orbs... Fleur blushed at the mare in question. She was rustic, she was the meaning of rustic in all the sense, and she couldn't help but sense something more than that. She felt envious of that.

"Friends...carefree..." The mare seemed relaxed, honest..caring. She seemed to be happy with her life, and life favored her. She was simply living life how she wants to live it, and Fleur can't fathom how. She was the prettiest of the ponies she met with such odd personalities. She tried ignoring this envy by thinking of the white unicorn that was friends with the orange mare. Her eyes instantly narrowed as she sat up, furious.

"Ponyville slob," She chided. "She won't ever realize the dangers.."She disliked the white one heavily. With the mere image conjuring up fury. Fathoming why the white one wanted something bigger than her homely, RUSTIC life was something she didn't get. It wasn't meant for her-generosity was never meant for big leagues. She only wished she had the chance to live life like a Ponyvillian. It seemed far simpler, far more fullfilling. Something that made her heart pump faster and faster at the aspect. To be near that rustic mare...to be in such a rustic place..to know what it actually felt like.. She instantly jumped off the bed and grabbed a few belongings with magic as she headed out. A smile forming finally. She didn't, however, leave without a pony questioning.

"Ma'am?" Her maid was swift and quick at the uptake. Her blue and yellow mane combed back as she wore a maid hat. Her dress covered almost every inch of her lovely purple coat. Her magenta eyes widening at the odd mess that she encountered. "W-What the hay? I-Is that-"

"Sorry Fast Sweep, can't talk," Fleur smiled as she faced the maid before heading out again, rushing away with a final word. "I have to visit a Miss. Applejack."