Designs of Love

“This is stupid.” Amore grunted as she arched her back.

“What have I told you about that word?” I sighed as a watched her head tilt backwards until she looked at me upside down.

“Doesn’t change how stupid it is.” Her wings reached toward me.

I resisted the urge to smack her flank. “I’m the only one watching you. And if you don’t lift that wing any higher then you might as well go to sleep for all the good you’re doing for yourself.”

“Don’t tempt me.” She said, taking a deep breath.

From my perch on the bench five feet away, I shook my head. “Just humor me. Ponyoga, along with your physical therapy, will make all the difference.”

“So you believe.” I picked up a water bottle and popped the top.

“Belief is 75% of the battle, cara mia.” I took a long drink to occupy my mouth before I really gave her a tongue-lashing.

“Don’t call me that.” She pouted. Her left wing drooped.

“I wouldn’t say a word if you would just lift that wing higher.” I replied. Amore gave a half-hearted attempt and then flapped the wing in irritation.

“That’s not even the wing that I’m worried about!” She snapped.

“It takes both wings to fly.” I said coolly.

Her infamous glare returned. “I have noticed that.”

I shrugged. “So you need to work with both wings. Concentrate, signora.”

“I could concentrate if somepony would leave me be.” She huffed, frowning.

I’d had enough. I hopped off the bench and took her good wing in both forehooves.

“What are you doing? Let me go!” She commanded.

I ignored her. “If you would do this right the first time…”

“Signora, please!” Her tone caught me off guard. She sounded near tears. I released her wing and she rolled away from me, wings folded and head down.

“Are you okay? Did you hurt your other wing?” I asked, reining myself in from rushing to her side.

She shook her head and turned away, lifting a hoof to wipe at her eyes. “No, I’m fine.”

“Clearly you’re not fine. Please tell me.” She merely shook her head again. I couldn’t determine why. Going over what just happened, I hazarded a guess.

“You don’t like it when anypony touches you?” I’d actually forgotten about her aversion to touch. I’d thought that had just been flight-day nerves.

“Not just anypony.” She admitted before covering her mouth with both hooves.

I frowned. “Is this about me being into mares?”

“You’re what?” She exclaimed.

“It’s why some aerialist teams rejected me. I’m openly into mares.” She stared, dumbfounded. Had she not known. I went on. “Like, I like mares. Like some mares love stallions and some mares like mares.”

“I had no idea.” She seemed honest enough.

“I know I told diVolo. I guess he decided not to tell you. Or maybe he figured I’d do it myself.” Maestro hadn't even reacted to the disclosure at the time.

“It’s not about that.” She insisted.

“You just don’t like it when I touch you.” I said in surprise. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know. The last thing I want is for you to be uncomfortable around me. If touching you is no good, I can respect that.”

“I’m…it’s…” She scrambled for words and I waited patiently. Finally she sighed. “It’s too good.”

“What?” I had to have misheard her.

“Nothing. Look, I don’t have a problem if you give me some warning, okay?”

“Easy enough. May I help you with that pose?” I asked.

“Do you have to touch my wing? It’s…very ticklish.” I’m not sure how I resisted the urge to laugh, but I’m proud that I didn’t. Of course she’s ticklish. I thought. No wonder she hates being touched.

“Only if I feel like you’re holding back. But I’ll warn you, okay?” I cocked my head.

She nodded.

“Okay, let’s get you into position.”

*

It should have been an honor. Del Cielo's time was precious after all. So why was a lunch with the biggest name in team aerial acrobatics the single most irritating conversation outside of talking to Amore? This was a business meeting.

“You’re dedicated, but you’re also insane.” Maestro del Cielo said finally. I was unsure how to respond to that. Luckily, he continued. “I place a guaranteed five year contract in front of you. A contract for a significant sum each year with bonus options, no less. And you’re negotiating me down to one year at a time for less pay to accommodate the addition of a former aerialist as your assistant?”

“That’s my counter-offer.” I said evenly.

“Every other team would laugh in your face and show you the door for such a ridiculous counter-offer.” He remarked at last. I shrugged.

“Your team has is lauded for achievement in the air. However, to put it candidly, I’m concerned about your high turnover rate on head designers.” Turning this around would be difficult. He wasn’t going to like this.

He stiffened, his expression hardening almost imperceptibly. “I was not aware we had a reputation like that.”

“Only the barest of whispers, I assure you. I hunted down your last three head designers.” He squirmed, clearly uncomfortable as I shuffled papers around. “High work loads, unreasonable athletes, low front office support, and a warning from each to not take the first offer.”

“One can only take the word of disgruntled employees so far.” He hedged.

I let the papers fall to the desk between us. “Which is why I’m negotiating instead of turning your offer down flat.”

He resisted. “You were recommended to us. Your last team was headed back to regionals before your Pegasus imploded. Your options are limited.”

I gathered my papers into the folder. “Perhaps you didn’t know. I’m Progetta della Forma. If you know nothing about fashion in Bitaly, then rest assured that the name della Forma carries weight on its own. So far, I’ve designed for aerialists because it’s more of a challenge than outfits for the everyday pony. But my family’s company is safely in the upper echelons of Bitalian design. To put it bluntly, you need me more than I need you.”

Silence fell between us. He glared at me across the table, eyes keen for any sign of weakness. I returned his glare with one of equal weight.

“Why take any offer from me?” He asked crossly.

“Many reasons. The travel. I like working with aerialists. Amore needs to get a new perspective on the business. You have quite a roster. If I can work with you, I can establish a reputation of my own. If Amore comes with me she’ll find what she’s been missing to stay in the Nationals.”

“Why sacrifice so much for a mare like diVolare?” He asked.

“I see something in her.” I said simply.

He contained his snort of laughter with one hoof over his mouth. “Her own coach was about to bust her down to the regionals.”

“Her attitude held her back.” I countered.

“If rumors are true, she will not fly again.” He reminded me.

“If rumors are true, I shouldn’t even be talking to you. Believe half of what you see and a quarter of what you hear.” He seemed to take slight offence to that, but he didn’t argue.

“I'll have my lawyers draw up a new contract for you to sign.” He said finally.

“No, your lawyers will meet with mine to draft a contract to our mutual benefit.” I said.

“Are you going to argue on every decision?” He sighed.

“I’m not a yes-pony. If you want somepony to kiss your plot and play games, then I'll leave.” I stood up.

He shook his head and muttered. “Why do I need you?”

I guess it was time to fill him in. “In the last decade of stunt-flying, flight-suits have become variations on a theme. Designers listen too often to either impractical designs that inhibit the wearer or designs so cookie cutter I can practically smell the pattern they were all cut from.”

“Your solution?” He asked, eyebrow quirked.

“A happy medium. Balance between function and form achieved so perfectly that it enhances the visuals. Pattern, fabric, cut all laid out in harmony. Letting the cutie mark show or incorporating it into the design. Effects with just a touch of magic and class. Your merchandise ranks among the highest in Bitaly. Follow my designs and you will be among the top of the world.”

“You can deliver all of that?” He asked skeptically.

I shrugged. “Your fliers and coaches will have to do some work to achieve that goal. Your team rank will play a factor in world sales. But on a design level, everyone will be talking about del Cielo fliers.”

“You have one year. Make it count or go back to designing for the masses.” He stood and inclined his head toward me respectfully. “I’ll look forward to seeing more of you, della Forma.”

Now came the hard part. I had to convince Amore.

*

The argument was spirited, to put it mildly.

“You did WHAT?” She shouted, eyes wide and nostrils flared.

“You can’t live off disability alone. Work with me.” I said.

“I don’t know anything about design!” Amore said, flinging a hoof up.

I pressed on. “You know other fliers. You know how they think.”

She snorted disdainfully. “I know I’ll never hear the end of it if I’m hemming flight-suits and polishing hoof-guards!”

“Damn your pride, Amore!” She spoke as if it were beneath her, and I was not going to put up with that attitude anymore.

“Damn you!” She cursed. “Why are you doing this?”

“That’s a fair question.” I said, gathering my thoughts. She waited as I drew a breath and sighed. “I’m worried about you, Amore. I need to design and right now del Cielo has the best offer. I want you with me because I believe it will be good for you.”

“Physical therapy is good for me. How will I get that with del Cielo’s offer?” Her questions were losing steam.

“I negotiated for you to use their state-of-the-art training center. With a personal coach.” I answered, pushing my advantage.

It had been a victory too soon. “I'd rather drag my wings through mud than be seen at my worst in the best gym in Bitaly!”

“Private sessions in a personal room.” I clarified.

“How do you even know about that?” She asked incredulously.

“I know the architect who built it.” One of the few benefits of being born into the della Forma family. We had all kinds of designers. “He’s my brother.”

“Oh.” She said eloquently. “Who's the coach?”

“You’re not going to like it.” I sighed.

*

“I hate you so much right now.” She muttered to me as we approached Maestro diVolo.

“Signora diVolare.” He said hopefully.

“Maestro diVolo.” She said evenly.

“I think we need to talk.” He began.

Amore tilted her head up and away. “The time to talk has long since passed. I have nothing constructive to say to you.”

“That’s hardly fair.” He retorted.

She was in no mood to hear him. “I pushed myself to breaking because of you! And you couldn’t even visit me in the hospital!”

“I sent flowers.” Even I winced at that poor explanation.

“The cheap vase looked better in pieces on the ground.” She spat.

“I thought you said she'd be different.” diVolo said to me with a tinge of humor.

“She must have smashed that vase before I got to her.” I offered.

“Progetta, this is ridiculous.” Amore whined.

“Enough, both of you.” I gestured to diVolo with one hoof. “You need to make it up to her for not being there when she needed somepony.”

I turned the same hoof on Amore. “You need a personal trainer who has worked with aerialists. diVolo did that for a decade before becoming a coach.”

I regarded both ponies. They had to start working together harmoniously for my plans to work. “This is a chance for both of you to redeem yourselves. You owe it to her for busting her to regionals without explanation.”

Amore cut in angrily. “I swear on my good wing, Progetta, if you tell me I owe this stallion anything…”

I cut her threat short. “You owe it to yourself, Amore. You tried finding what was missing on your own and broke your wing. He can help you return, not only sooner but better.”

“Fine.” She stalked away angrily, going off to a corner to vent and stretch.

“Why are you doing this, della Forma?” I was getting very tired of ponies asking me this.

“You could be thanking me for the job.” I said pleasantly.

“I think you’re avoiding my question.” He laughed. “What do you see in diVolare?”

I regarded him strangely. “The same thing you did when you first met her.”

“She didn’t have that attitude when I first met her.” That did explain things, I thought.

I shrugged. “All the more reason to believe there is something more than what you’ve seen from her.”

“What if she never flies?” Another tiresome question.

“For her sake, never even think that question unless it becomes certain.” I whispered forcefully.

He shrugged. “So you’re doing all this for her?”

I turned my full expression on him. “Do you think she has anyone else?”

He stood silently. “I never realized how much of herself she threw into this. Any friends she had were all fellow fliers. She never spoke about doing anything outside of training and flying.”

“Now you understand why she risked everything to keep moving forward.” I said.

“I do, not that her risk paid off.” He reminded me.

“It's my turn to take a risk. Are you going to sit by and watch things go wrong again?” I challenged him.

“No.” He responded. “I have a debt to pay, after all. Let me ask you. What do you expect to gain?”

I drew a deep breath. “If I’m being completely honest, I don’t expect anything. I do have hopes, though.”

“Hopes?” He asked incredulously.

“We'll see.” I stated simply.

“Are you two finished chatting like washermares around the tub?” Amore asked in the gruff manner I'd come to expect from her.

“Si, signora. I trust you have stretched well?” diVolo asked.

“As well as you ever taught me.” She said snarkily.

He smiled in good humor. “Good. Now here are the stretches I want you to do in addition.”