Designs of Love

by averageamazingme

Rating: teen
Tags: Sad, Romance, Slice of Life
Length: 4259

When unthinkable tragedy strikes, can the bond between a flyer and her designer bring about a miracle?

Can love really perform a miracle? Progetta della Forma is a Bitalian designer specializing in the costumes aerialist ponies wear. When tragedy befalls her first Nationally ranked flyer, she is torn between a once in a lifetime job opportunity and helping the very pony who made her life miserable.

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2015-07-20 17:30:58 UTC

Beginning Design

“Forma!” Ah the dulcet tones of the goddess herself. I thought unkindly. Not that I had much occasion to bring myself to be kind to Amore diVolare. The mare was notoriously difficult to work with, a fact in which  Amore seemed to take great delight.

“Coming, signora.” I replied, trying to keep the irritation out of my voice.

“Hurry!” She called back.

“Heaven forbid Amore goes out without her beloved sash.” I muttered to myself. I pulled out the last few pins as I trotted over to the diva of the sky. It was not hard to imagine the horror previous designers went through trying to fit the garish sash into about every outfit she performed in. Luckily, I was the kind of mare with imagination. Well, imagination and a strong sense of humor.

“M’scusi, signora. I have it completed.” I patted myself on the back for not throwing it at her.

“Finally.” She huffed as she tugged it away. As her designer, I should have put it on her myself. Touching the diva, however, would only have further incurred her wrath. I watched her, though, to make sure she placed it appropriately.

She peeked around the curtain as she threw the sash over her head haphazardly. Before she could walk out, I stepped on her tail.

“Oof!” She called out as she stopped suddenly. Whipping around, I could practically feel her trying to kill me with her eyes. The hatred those blue orbs contained would certainly have felled lesser ponies. Instead, I stood taller.

“Pin that sash down or it’ll end up in the grandstands. And you won’t be far behind it.”

“Do you have any idea how important this competition is?” She exclaimed.

“Do you have any idea how to wear a sash while flying? If you don’t buckle it down here and here…” I popped the button flaps at shoulder and under her wing. “…you’ll wind up wearing that sash around your head and wing.”

Flustered and angry, she snapped the sash into place. “I swear, della Forma, if you…”

I’d heard this pile of garbage before and wasn’t having any of it. “If I wasn’t the last designer who would work with you, you’d be going out there bareback.”

“If you were a better designer…” She started, but couldn’t work out how to finish it.

“I’ll get noticed sooner or later. My problem is not my attitude.” I said in challenge.

“I was in a perfectly equitable mood until somepony…” The coordinator popped her head in.

“diVolare! You’re up!”

“Coming, signora!” She called as she trotted away. I sighed in relief. I threw my sewing supplies back in the bag and headed to the viewing area. As much trouble as she was, Amore was a great flyer to watch.

Her program tonight was to be fairly simple. One circuit around to get to speed and another to perform her feats. Amore’s coach, Maestro diVolo, sidled up next to me.

“Our little diva looks good tonight.” He remarked.

I smiled. “She insisted on the sash.”

“Athletes are superstitious. You are kind to accommodate her…eccentricities. She performs before royalty today.” He indicated the premier box. Princess Celestia sat in attendance.

“The princess looks well.” It was said she loved to watch young fliers.

diVolo turned to face me. “I’ve put a good word in for you with Maestro del Cielo.”

My eyes opened wide. “You didn’t!”

He smiled. “I did.”

“What of Am—Signora diVolare?” I asked.

“She will be sent back to the regional flyers. She lacks a certain…something as far as the nationals are concerned.” He explained. I looked down at my hooves.

“What is this? I tell you you have an in with the biggest national team in all of Bitaly and you are more concerned with the headstrong filly who makes your life miserable?” I turned my gaze onto the course. She was just finishing her first lap.

“Does she know?” I asked.

“Si. I told her this morning.” He replied, turning his gaze on the mare in question.

“You told her this on the morning of her last national exhibition?” Was Amore flying faster than usual? I felt a sickening dread begin in my stomach.

“Si,” he answered, puzzled by the change of topic.

She was definitely going too fast. I trotted up to the rail and set both forehooves on the top. Maestro diVolo followed me, his expression a mirror of the horror on mine.

“Has she ever…?”

“No.”

“Can she do this?”

“I don’t know. I hope…for her sake.”

The tension built as she performed her first set of loops. She gained altitude without losing much of her speed at all and spiraled down headfirst. She pulled out and veered off, once again turning her momentum into altitude. Amore placed herself between the crowd and the sun, he position perfect to eclipse the yellow disc with a sweep of her wings.

“No. Nonono. Nonononono!” Maestro diVolo cried as she began her descent.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, alarmed.

“She has too much altitude, her velocity will be too great if she waits too long to open her wings.”

I silently prayed that her wings would open. Please. Please. Please.

“Open your wings!” diVolo screamed, his roar drowned out by the crowd’s excitement.

Finally, with a flick of her wings, Amore opened up to slow her descent. She’d aimed herself perfectly to land on the end cloud. But I could see it on her face, she was going too fast. Then, the worst happened.

A loud crack echoed over the arena. Amore’s right wing had buckled backwards and hung uselessly. Her approach landing dive became a spin that she was powerless to stop.

Thankfully, somepony could. Celestia rose from her box and shot forth a globe of glowing light, catching the injured pegasus and slowing her down safely. Amore floated down to the landing cloud and the spell dissipated.

As emergency personnel rushed to the field, my eyes were locked onto Amore. The shock on her face gave way to a grimace of pain as she tried to assess her wing. When she looked at the ruin of her wing, she erupted into tears, the agony heartbreaking. Putting my hooves to my cheeks in horror, I felt tears of my own. I lost sight of her in the huddle of medical ponies.

I felt a push on my shoulder. Maestro diVolo shook me to get my attention. “Go gather your things. There is nothing more either of us can do for her.”

*

To my shame, I let a week pass before visiting Amore. I brought an edible arrangement of fruit and flowers. My body practically shook the entire way to the front desk.

The mare at the desk didn’t even look up. “Delivery for whom?”

“Um, Amore diVolare.” I answered.

The nurse snorted. “I’d make it quick if I were you. She might have a broken wing, but she’ll likely hurl that bouquet back in your face. Room 210.”

The room was darkened, so I stepped in quietly. After a pause to let my eyes adjust, I managed to make out a form huddled under the blanket. I was irritated at the nurse. She could have told me Amore was asleep. I looked around, hoping to see an empty space nearby. The closest place, just my luck, was across the room.

Tiphoofing around, I gently placed the bouquet on the open space. “Who’s there?”

I nearly jumped out of my hooves. That hadn’t sounded like Amore. “Sorry, I must have the wrong room.”

I heard the shuffle of a blanket as the pony on the bed turned to face me. I headed to the door, completely forgetting the bouquet. “Della Forma?”

The surprise in her voice gave me pause. She didn’t sound like herself still, bug she didn’t sound mad either. “Amore?”

“Signora della Forma. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

“I know, I should have come earlier…”

“Why? I wasn’t ever anything but horrible to you.” She said plainly.

I hesitated. “I…I wanted to.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You wanted to what?”

“No, that’s it. I wanted to come see you. I was just, concerned that I would be a distraction from you getting the care you need.”

“There’s not much left to care for.” That was new. I’d never heard her sound so defeated.

“Your wing…”

“I’ll never fly again, they say.” It was the worst. The very fear that kept me away for a week. My heart dropped into my stomach.

“I’m sorry; I hadn’t heard.”

Shaking her head, she changed the subject. “How is Signor del Cielo?”

I was shocked. “How did you know?”

She waved a hoof. “Maestro spoke with me about it. It is a good opportunity for you, you should take it.”

“How can you say that? You want me to take on with another team?” Why was I arguing with her? I wondered.

She snorted. “There is no point in staying around. No one else has.”

“What about your friends?” Surely diVolare had some of those. My heart sank as she shook her head.

“Looks like all I had were rivals who hid behind kind words and empty gestures.” She looked up at me with contempt. Her expression was belied by her eyes, wet with tears to shed. “Why are you here?”

“I…don’t know.” I replied honestly.

“You can leave. Del Cielo has a good team. You’ll be a fine addition.” She turned away from me, readying herself for my goodbye. The resignation in her voice was foreign to my ears.

I’d had enough. “I’m sorry. I thought this was Amore diVolare’s room. I must have been mistaken.”

She turned back around in curiosity. “Have you gone pazzo? What madness is this? It’s me, della Forma.”

“Like Tartarus it is!” I challenged. “The Amore diVolare I know would never allow anyone to tell her when she could fly!”

“My wing…”She began.

“Neither did she make excuses. Amore proves everypony wrong.” I asserted. “Where is that irritating pride, signora? Where has all your passion gone?”

I leveled a hoof at her face. “I’ll tell you one thing, diva. If you allow yourself to wallow in pity you will become a fat former ghost of yourself.”

She bristled. “Do you have any idea how many ponies told me I won’t fly. Every doctor and nurse.” Her eyes glistened. “Even maestro himself.”

“That might be true for some ponies. It could be true for you. But are you going to take their word for it, or are you going to make the effort to prove them wrong?” I walked to her bedside as I spoke. We locked eyes.

“I believe in you, Amore.” I said quietly.

She reached out to me. I hugged her to my chest. Her voice was a bit muffled, but I heard her. “Will you stay with me?” The fear in her voice was strong enough to taste.

Without a second thought, I replied. “Of course, Amore.”

Intricately Laid Designs

“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.”