She wanted to take it all back, she really did. Take back everything she ever felt that she could. Her cutie mark, her looks, her abilities...everything. Then maybe she wouldn't regret so much. She sighed as she entered the room, a paper clenched in her teeth. It was odd that she regretted anything written, it was her passion to love something written-her cutie mark showed that. She loved the way written words looked on pages, liked the ability to see then drawn. Yet...this was different. Very different. A gray mist removed the paper from her mouth, inevitably of course. Nothing wasn't too surprising anymore. Of course she knew
Cassette would be elated. No-more than elated. She even watched as Cassette smiled to herself as her excitement grew. Her pale pink eyes landing on the pony that gave her these emotions. The pony in question being a school aged filly with a coat white as snow with a delicately combed light pink mane.
“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?” Cassette cried out, her voice booming as pride swelled in her chest. She knew that would come, but it was a hard question to answer. She could lie, she reasoned but...she wouldn't get far that way, would she? The filly paused, her voice barely audible as she answered.
“Well..er…” The filly responded. “I didn’t really..” Cassette shook her head, her long, black and gray mane curling up as it had like film rolls. It surprised the filly that her mom had a mane that could do that, but she wasn't interested in that in the least.
“Nonsense!” Cassette roared out. “Surely you jest!” Cassette’s elation decreased as the filly peered down, her mane covering her face. Even then, you can spot the faintest of despair tracing her features. She knew that reaction would come, too. She was even afraid she show her cutie mark, which she thinly covered. Her mom, thankfully, didn't notice the coverings. Cassette scoffed at the notion that she simply thought of. No, you simply could not be? Where had she gone wrong in raising her dear filly?
She hadn't gone wrong. She breathed out, trying to figure out the words to describe this situation. The grey coated mare refused to allow such...trivial endeavors. She paced around a tad bit, hoping to come to a solution that would benefit all. Or-she’d assume all.
“Mommy?” The filly winced, knowing the disappointment. “M-Mommy?” The unicorn filly backed off as Cassette’s wandering became more apparent. The filly’s chest knotted-her breath escaping at any given chance. Tears slipped from her eyes as she tried ignoring the surroundings. She really bucked up. She knew her mommy really wanted her to love this. She really wanted her to love what she truly loved. Yet, she couldn’t. She just...couldn’t. Maybe there was something wrong with her?
“Surely, you must be lying. You can’t just turn such an offer down!” The filly didn’t answer to her. She slunk to the ground, wishing the ground could absorb her and whisk her away from there. Anywhere but there. “A filly gets but one shot, one chance and you are willing to rid of it for pathetic stories?”
“M-Mommy, they aren’t pathetic!” The unicorn filly shot back, offended by her choice words. “I love writing and drawing for foals. They are really good...great stories...why can’t you see that?” Cassette, however, simply looked down at her daughter. The filly regretted such choice words herself.
“They are pathetic if they aren’t going to aid you in any way,” Cassette retorted, stomping her hoof. “No daughter shall create stories when there can be better, bigger things that can be done. Its a pathetic waste of life.”
“Its what I’m good at, Mom!” She cried out, her tiny body aching as the gray coated mare came closer to her.
“Cassette?” Cassette turned to face the voice, she was even going to respond bitterly. Yet, she stopped right in her tracks. The voice was that of a stallion’s, her husband and father of the unicorn. He looked similar to the filly in appearance, white coat and pink mane. The only difference being his eyes as they were a beautiful violet instead of pinks. He had such a deep voice, something remarkable considering his appearance. If there was any pony that the filly loved more, it was him. She truly felt connected with him.“I feel you are taking this a tad bit more...personal than I like to admit.”
“I don’t think you realize the gravity of the situation, dear,” Cassette said through grit teeth. Her head lowered as she scratched at the floor, pawing almost as she backed off. “Fleur can’t possibly like something so...uncouth as...that! She must get into modeling, she can’t be anything less!” The stallion shook his head at the remarks.
“Is that what you wish, or what she wishes?” He questioned, his face taking on a knowing look. Cassette stumbled over her words. How dare he assume such dastardly things as that! How she ever found love in such a simple stallion was beyond her.
“You-I-WHAT?!” She cried out. “You can’t be serious! Surely, you see that she has greater potential than..than…” The stallion lifted his hoof, wanting her to end her rants. He knew the answer already, it was plain as day.
“Cassette, children stories aren’t uncouth. Its quite fulfilling,” He retorted. Certainly, she must know of his profession! She glared daggers at him instead, not caring in the least.
“Prose, you and I both know its unbecoming of a lady to write such pathetic drabble,” Cassette shot back. Prose stepped between them both, taking a peek to his side at his daughter, Fleur.
“Her works are phenomenal! Have you read a single one?” Prose ignored his wife’s pleas as he brought forth a few works. Fleur couldn’t see them all, but she knew they had to be the ones she presented her father earlier that day. She beamed at the compliment. He loved it, he truly loved it! Cassette, however, gasped at the notion of her daughter being...that way. With a hue of gray mist, the works were gone. Destroyed right in front of her eyes. She never felt so many emotions flood her at once before. She scrunched her nose as tears brimmed her eyes, a look of utter hatred plastering against her features. Cassette blinked in response, confused for a moment before everything hit her.
F-Fleur! I-I didn’t-” Fleur trembled as she ran off, not allowing herself to get close to her. Prose frowned at the antics, but not at Fleur’s. Instead, it was directed toward’s Cassette’s. Cassette frowned, staring blankly at the floor.
“I just...I just..”
“If she wants to “drabble” in written affairs, then so be it,” He defended, his frown increasing. “Tis isn’t bad to love the written works.” Cassette, however, huffed at the notion despite feeling weak.
“I don’t care whether she enjoys it or not, she is the light at the end of the tunnel for us, Prose. Surely you can’t deny that?” Prose didn’t answer, instead he let his appearances answer for him. She cringed as she glanced his way, but she still hadn’t backed away.
“She should choose what she wants,” Prose insisted. “Let her choose, her time will come eventually, but it won’t matter, will it? You already chosen for her.”
Fleur yawned softly. Where had time gone? She stretched out without warning before checking her surroundings. It was the same old same old. She gave a weak smile, only barely tugging at the edges.
Life was good
Life was great
Fleur’s pink eyes watered, tickling her a bit. She peered down at her covers. Fancy Pants was no where to be seen. She sighed. That was typical, he had a job to do after all. She wiped away her tears.
Life was good.
Life was great.
Yet…..she closed her eyes as she fell on her back. Another sigh escaping forth as memories fill her very being. Her faux cutie mark reminded her of something. Something that made her day worsen, despite it just starting.
Why did she regret her life?
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."
