Worth A Thousand Words

Friday

“That's good Fleur.” Feather said as he held his camera horizontally. “Just hold that spot, and...good.”

Friday arrived, and with it, their next photo shoot. The week had seemed to drag on to reach the weekend, and with it, Feather had tried and tried to plan out more of his and Fleur's shoots. The first shoot had been great as a starter, keeping things basic for her and to show off her product. But he couldn't just keep using a white backdrop and little bits of furniture. That was repetitive, and boring. The consumer world was fickle in its tastes, never satisfied with just one format, one way. He would need to variate things some. But the question was how?

It had led him to changing the scenery from the studio to another locale, this one using the landscape of Canterlot for the background. He’d surprised himself in his decision to go with a rooftop setting for this one, making use of the studio's wide roof for this session. They'd also been blessed with good weather from the pegasus teams, with clear skies and a light wind that kept them cool under the bright sun shining on their heads. For this session, it was less materialistic and more of a focus on Fleur entirely. Since last time had been an effort to showcase Fleur's businesses, this time would serve to bring attention to Fleur herself.

Fleur relaxed from her pose, having been standing with her hand at the side of her head and her torso in profile to the side, facing away from Feather. His intention was to try and capture her when the wind would blow by. He had passed on using fans at the start, thinking they wouldn’t need them. However, the little bursts of wind that had come by so far did little to help them, leaving Feather feeling frustrated. He lowered his camera and ran a hand through his mane. “Let's take five, Fleur.” He called to her, getting a nod from the model as she stepped down from her small makeshift wooden stage and came to where he stood. He didn't look up from his camera, cycling through the pictures he'd taken so far.

“How are things looking?” She asked as she came up to his side, peeking at the viewer from over his shoulder.

Feather sighed and shook his head. “You look great, but I feel like it’s missing something. Maybe this idea wasn't a smart one.” He remarked. “It's like what I'm trying to reach for is there but I'm not seeing it.”

“Are you perhaps distracted?” Fleur questioned. “I have had days like that myself. Have you been sleeping well?”

“Well enough.” He wasn't going to tell her that he'd tossed and turned for two nights on deliberating on the shoot. He had to keep a solid face up in front of her. Flare's words echoed in the back of his mind.

‘Rookies don’t see their mistakes at first. That’s why they’re rookies. It takes some time to learn how this business works, what the public wants.’

He stopped scrolling through the pictures, turning the camera off to look at her. She looked wondrous in the midday light, even in light casual clothes consisting of a pair of black pants and a white sleeveless top. Her mane was down and free, hanging past her shoulders and adding a bit of color to her apparel. She looked all the part of the model she wanted to be.

“You don't sound very convinced, Feather. Come, sit.” She invited him to follow her to a pair of chairs they'd brought up with them from the studio. He followed after her, settling into a chair in the same fashion as the mare next to him. The view out beyond the rooftop was one to see, ; much of Canterlot lay sprawled out before him, pegasi flying here and there up above and ponies walking down below, their bodies small from his vantage. “You seem troubled. You have barely made eye contact with moi today, in fact. Am I bothering you, Feather?”

The pegasus shook his head and looked up at her, giving her his full attention. “No, Fleur, not at all. It's not you, it's me that I'm bothered by.”

“What could be causing that?”

“I...” Did it even matter? Would she even care if he told her? He was just a photographer, a rookie at that. He was only here on the whim of their boss, a chance and a gamble being taken that could just as well spell trouble for them all as much as it might succeed.

“I'm not very experienced, Fleur. I'm making my first steps into this profession here. I've done plenty on my own free time, but I'm not exactly premiering in my own little art studio for ponies to see and pay for my pictures. I'm still figuring things out.”

Fleur nodded, waiting until he was finished speaking before she responded. “And this inexperience; it is making you nervous? Unsettled, perhaps?”

“...yeah. If I'm gonna put all the cards out there, I'm nervous about screwing up. .” He answered her, turning his gaze back out to the city beyond them. “A lot's riding on this project, for me. It's a lot to take on for my first time, and I didn't really start feeling it until a couple days ago.” He hadn't told her about running into Flare Shot after their first session; it didn't seem necessary or helpful to make her think he might quit.

“Cannot anypony say they are nervous like that when they are taking their first steps?” Fleur asked, making him look back to her. Seeing she had his attention, the mare smiled and continued. “Does a master craftsman expect perfection on his first chisel on marble? Or a painter on his first stroke?”

Featherweight listened and shook his head no, watching as the model stood up and walked back to her wooden stage he'd had her stand on before. It wasn't really a stage, even; it was a few spare wooden boxes that came up to his middle, put together to give her a little more height and to keep perspective of the city beyond her. He had asked one of the stage teams to help set it up this morning. She continued, looking over at him as she spoke.

“I was by no means perfect on my first try either. When I first learned the ropes of the catwalk, I was very much intimidated. I was putting myself out for the world to see, to let myself be judged entirely by peers and viewers of all kinds.” As she spoke, Fleur walked, her steps light on the wood, slow and methodical. “I was afraid: what if I made a mistake? What if I fell? So many what if's, Feather, can leave a pony to keep a pony petrified with worry, because we are made to think we must be perfect all the time.” She came to a stop at the edge of the stage and turned about, putting one foot forward while posing before him.

“That is not a style of life I subscribe to.” She assured before coming down to stand in front of him. He was enraptured by her words and her voice. It was the balm to the burning irritation he'd been struggling with since the beginning of the week. “I believe in experiencing life outside of perfection. Though some might argue that I myself am perfect in some ways, I know in many ways I am not.” She reached out to him, and he tensed before watching as she held up his camera. “Take your camera, for instance; for all the knowledge and experience I have as a model, I know nothing of how to take such photos myself. I could not begin to tell you what equipment to use, what settings to select, filters to apply. But does that make me lesser?”

“No.” He answered immediately. “Not in the slightest.”

“Precisely. I am moi, and I love moi. I love what I do. And that is good enough for me.” Fleur let his camera return to its resting spot and smiled up at him. Her eyes captivated him in their warmth as she stared into his own. “Don't let fear stall you or trip you on your path to success. Do what you do best. Be you. If you can be yourself, then nopony can argue that you're not doing your best or being the best, because only you can be the best at that. Do you understand?”

Feather nodded. He was distracted by the pounding of his heart in his chest, echoing in his ears. She was so close to him, he could count the eyelashes on her eyes as he continued to stare into her bright pools of violet.

“Yeah. I think I do.” He murmured back to her before a thought struck him. He mentally compared his shots of her on the stage versus where she sat now, the backdrop of the wide sky above her while arching skyscrapers rose on either side of them. In the far distance, the royal castle itself sat in its gleaming glory, distant but recognizable nonetheless. “Fleur. Don't move from there.” He said, making her pause but adhere to his wish as he took three steps back, enough to keep the city around Fleur visible but herself as the centerpiece. He snapped the photo, then a second one, before lowering the camera. “Thank you. I think that was part of the problem. I was...aiming too big.”

Fleur beamed at him, making his own smile grow in response. His heart was still pounding in his chest, albeit more controlled now. It was inspired by a new feeling of Fleur's assurances, and the knowledge that she was backing him despite the risks involved. “Let's keep it up from there; I want to keep you in the center. You always do look better in the spotlight.” Fleur giggled but nodded, staying put on spot as Featherweight moved to catch other perspectives of her with his camera, carrying on for some time until the sun had shifted position in the sky.

Same Day, Canterlot Square

“I’ve been walking for ten minutes now, Powder Touch. I’m still not seeing it. You sure you’re not just waiting to pop out and surprise me?” Flare said into his phone as he ambled down the sidewalk. At just half past noon, the foot traffic in Canterlot’s main street was excessive as always. Flare was grateful for his height, as it let him carry on with little hassle. His insider to Graceful Magicks, Powder Touch, had called him a half hour ago about seeing something on display in the main square.

“Come on, it’s like, so big you can’t miss it!” Powder’s nasal voice answered back. “I only just saw it a little while ago on the way here.”

“Alright, alright. Let’s hope this isn’t another waste of time like that ‘magic dragon’ you claimed you saw last week, you screwball.” Flare remarked, shouldering past a lost-looking couple and giving a hand wave when they asked for help. “I’m on Unicorn Boulevard now. You said above the opera house, right?”

“Yeah, that’s the one!” she exclaimed. “Just stay there, look up! There should be that alternating billboard up!”

Flare shook his head but indulged the mare as he stood in place and watched the advertisements flash upon the billboard. A clever piece of magic at work, the billboard was designed to display a new image or ad every few minutes. The red-maned stallion kept his eyes trained on the billboard, waiting for Graceful Magicks to have its turn. Photo Finish always had a reserved spot on the billboard, a constant source of advertisement for her studio to promote herself and her models.

He didn’t need to wait long, as the magical transition effect washed out the image of the Wonderbolts’ next air show and shifted to its next advertisement. An image of Fleur de Lis stared back out at Flare from her higher vantage, frozen in time as the picture displayed her lying on her side in a delightful black dress, looking every part the beauty she was reputed to be. A small black bottle of “Magnifique Mare” was placed beside her, giving a nod to Fleur’s own fragrance line as well as showcasing the mare for Graceful Magicks.

Flare’s grip on his phone tightened as Powder squeaked in his ear. “So~? Isn’t it cool! You got on the billboard again!”

“That. Isn’t. Mine.” He growled out as his fist clenched at his side.

“Huh? Weren’t you just working with Fleur a few days ago? I thought you did that one?” Powder asked.

“No. I didn’t do this shoot.” Flare replied, mind racing as he recognized the pose and where he’d seen it before. He remembered seeing the picture in his very hand, in Photo Finish’s office. Flare’s pride dropped into his stomach as he remembered the scrawny novice who’d taken the photo. That damned brat had upstaged him, and now that rookie’s work was on display on Unicorn Boulevard! “I need to go. I’ll talk later.”

“But Flare-” Click! Flare Shot hung up his phone and pocketed the device, turning away from the billboard to make his way down the sidewalk. The kid was just a rookie compared to him, but Photo Finish was using Featherweight’s material over his own? What was she thinking?! He shoved his way past passerby ponies mulling on the street as he aimed for his apartment. That brat was going to be a thorn in his side if this was allowed to continue. There was room for just one pony on top, and he wasn’t going to let some newbie take that place over himself.

Monday

“Ok, Miss Finish. Thank you for the advice!” Feather called over his shoulder as the door to Photo Finish's office closed.

“You are welcome!” She called back before the door closed. Feather sighed to himself and adjusted his jacket before aiming for the elevator. He had presented Photo Finish with the latest batch of photos from the rooftop shoot three days later on Monday, thankful for no interruptions this time from Flare Shot. The mare had eyed each photo with a critical look before requesting he give her time to sort through them on her own. Her appraisal of his use of scenery gave him a boost to his self-esteem, making him walk with a bit of pep in his step as he reached the elevator.

When the machine dinged and the doors parted, however, that pep deflated as he took in who was standing in the elevator. “Feather!” Flare Shot exclaimed as he recognized the younger stallion. “Hey, kid! Just who I was hoping to bump into.”

“Hey, Flare.” Feather returned the greeting, albeit with much less enthusiasm. He hadn't forgotten the veteran photographer’s remarks on him, or Photo's own critique of the man. It put him in an awkward setting to be stuck with him on the elevator. “I was just heading out, but I...forgot something. I'll just take the stairs.”

“No, no! This is perfect; you're just who I was looking for.” Flare reached out and threw his broad arm around Feather's shoulders, tugging him into the elevator. Before he could protest, Flare had already hit the close door button and had Feather riding with him. The youth could feel the machine shifting as it rose. The moment Flare’s grip slackened, he stepped out of his grasp while the older pony spoke. “I was hoping to talk to you.” Flare said as he looked to Featherweight. “How's the project going?”

“It's...going well. We're doing fine.” He answered. He kept away from Flare's reach, a fact that the stallion seemed to recognize as he only smirked and shook his head. The elevator came to a stop as it reached its destination. “Just gave Photo Finish the latest batch of pictures.”

“Good to hear. Just come with me for a minute, I wanted to throw something by you.” Flare urged him as he exited the elevator. Featherweight recognized the floor as the same level where they kept a couple spare rooms for photo sessions when no other locale could be found. The red-maned pony looked behind him at the youth and waved a hand. “Come on!”

“Flare, I need to go home. I'm kinda beat from today. Can't this wait till tomorrow?” Feather asked.

“It'll take just a second! I promise!” Flare insisted. Feather's instincts tugged at the back of his mind, but he followed the stallion into an open room. There was no actual set inside this room, leaving much of it bare save for a few spare wooden chairs and a couple lightstands. It was more of a storage spare room than anything else. Feather had actually used this room to get seats for a session on his first day.

“Look, I gotta hand it to you, kid. You're pretty darn smart to take on this project. I mean, your first foray into professional photography, and you're getting to work with the Fleur de Lis?” Flare said, walking up to a window to look outside. “You couldn't ask for a better setup to break into the big time. Not to mention getting to work with such a beauty. She's a real looker, ain't she?”

Featherweight just nodded to his remarks. “Fleur's the model's model, I guess.” He replied. He wasn't sure what to make of Flare's presence here. The older stallion turned away from the window and saw that Featherweight was watching him, and raised his hands in a placating gesture.

“Hey, nothing bad about appreciating the goods you get to see, right?” He remarked before facing Featherweight. “Just think how many stallions would be clamoring for your time with her.”

“Maybe. What is it you were wanting, Flare?”

The red-maned stallion sighed and rolled his shoulders before regarding Featherweight again. To the younger pony's eyes, it was almost like he was sizing him up. It made Feather uncomfortable, but he stayed put. Flare just snorted and shook his head.

“Look, kid. I wanted to...apologize. I know I probably came off as being rude before, and that's not right. I'm really just looking out for you, you know.” Flare said. “See, this business is a really demanding one. I had to work from the ground up to get where I'm at now, and to be frank, I'm happy you're getting such a big push to get your own ball rolling. But you gotta watch out for pitfalls and problems on the way. And I don't want you to take a hard hit.”

Feather tilted his head in confusion. “What are you talking about?” he questioned.

“Simple. Let me help you out some. The next shoot you do, call me up and let me tag along. I can help you make such better shots than what you're doing now. I've got a whole crew at my fingertipsI can just call on, and we'd have our own personal set ready to go. Fleur could be positioned for anything, whatever the theme is. All you'd have to do is keep taking photos and doing what you do, and I'll help guide you on how to make it better.” Flare held out a hand towards the younger stallion, as if to further invite him. “We can work together.”

Featherweight eyed his hand before looking up at the older stallion. “...aren't you busy with your own projects?” he questioned.

“That stuff? It's small time! Fleur is the best of the best, grade A stuff, kid! If you're gonna aim to be the best, you gotta get the best.” Flare took a step closer, and Feather's instincts tugged at his mind again. His wings at his back gave a flutter as he kept an eye on the taller stallion. “Look, let's face it; you're new to this. I've got years of experience under my belt. I've worked with a lot of models, and you've worked with, what, nature? A few happenstance neighbors who thought it'd be nice to let you indulge in your little hobby?”

“It's not a hobby. It's my profession.” Feather countered, but Flare talked over it as if he couldn't hear him.

“Let me help you, kid. Is it really so demanding that I'm just trying to help you out? Stop being so stubborn and just let the pros handle things.” Flare insisted. “I'll even cut you some credit on the final printing. Just work with me on this. Come on.”

Feather stood there, thoughts racing on Flare's words and his own beliefs. It was true that he was new to such alevel of work, and that Flare had tons more experience. The older stallion had undoubtedly worked with several other models and had a good understanding of what makes a good photo versus a bad one.

“He is arrogant in his ways. Too firm, too unyielding. I hired him with the hopes zhat he would be great, and he has become great. But it is tempered with his brash behavior, and ruins zhe hopes I had for him. I worry he has forgotten zhe true magicks of zhis industry.” Photo Finish's words came back to mind in that instant, the description ringing more true to Featherweight than this show of good will that Flare was clinging to.

Shaking his head, Feather took a step back from the stallion. “I appreciate the offer. It's nice of you. But I'm alright.”

Flare Shot stared in disbelief and tilted his head. “Come again?”

“I said...no. I'm fine to keep on doing what I'm doing.” Featherweight repeated. “I was told to do this my way, to do it the way I felt best. And if I give up on doing this, I'd be saying that my style isn't good enough. I don't know if it is or not for sure; that's not for me to decide in the end. That's up to Miss Finish. I'm not doing this to make myself look great or like you said, to be the best.” He took a breath and carried on, noting the look in Flare's eyes begin to change from disbelief to frustration.

“If anything, its Fleur and the other models who get to look great. I'm not expecting fame for doing this; I don't think I want it either. It's more important that I enjoy what I'm doing, and I am. Even if I might make a mistake, I’m happy with what I’m making here. So thanks, but no thanks.”

Flare exhaled through his flared nostrils, and balled a fist at his side. “Think about what you're doing, kid. You're throwing away a chance to be a real pro. A real photographer, not just some brat posting scribbles on the fridge door. I can help you, if you'd just let me come on and work with Fleur. And you.”

Featherweight shook his head. “The answer's no. I'll see you around, Flare.” Featherweight turned to leave, eager to get away from the older stallion and get home. Before he took two steps, however, he felt Flare's hand grab for his shoulder, and swing him around. Featherweight's smaller frame was easily moved by the taller stallion's actions, leaving him to grasp for the edge of a spare desk he fell against while Flare stood overtop him. Gone was the friendly face and charming smile; instead, he looked cold, distant as he stared down at the pegasus with grit teeth and his eyes brimming with anger.

“You don't dismiss me like that, brat. I'm your senior. I'm five times the pony you could be, and ten times the photographer. You think just because Photo Finish picked you that you're some kind of special pony? Sure, and I'm in line for the royal crown.” He mocked. “Now wisen up and start listening to me, or else you'll regret it.”

“Get your filthy hands off of him.”

The voice came from Feather's left, making Flare look up in the same direction he did. The older stallion paused his actions at the sight of the intruder. “F-Fleur!”

The look on the model's face was one he couldn't recall ever seeing before. The beauty's face was hardened, her jaw clenched as she marched toward them, heels clacking on the floor with each step she took. Flare's grip on Feather lessened, and moved out of his reach.

“When I came by to see if Feather had delivered the photos, I thought I might run into him here. Imagine my surprise when the secretary tells me she saw you taking him into the elevator.” She spoke in a controlled, calm fashion while her eyes stayed trained on Flare. “You always do favor these quiet rooms when you need to be forceful, don't you, Flare?”

“Look, we were just...talking business! That's all. I was offering help to the kid. Tell her, Feather.” He insisted.

“Yes, of course you were.” Fleur replied. “Offering help by trying to intimidate this young man? I heard everything from outside. Five times the pony? Ha!” She scoffed at him. “Zhis is why I never signed a contract with you. You are always trying to make your own mark for your greedy gain. Using models like playthings and not real ponies. You are lucky that Photo Finish renewed your contract, or else it would be you on the streets.”

“How dare you! You can't just talk to me like I'm-”

“A fraud? A bully? A pathetic excuse of a man?” Fleur listed off. “Get out of here, Flare. Don't let me see you haunting either my or Featherweight's presence again. Or else there will be consequences.”

Flare Shot eyed them both before silently exiting, slamming the door behind him when he was gone. With him out of the room, Featherweight went slack, leaning against the desk again with a hand to prop him up. Everything suddenly caught up to him in a rush: the fear, the tension, the relief brought by Fleur's intervention.

“Thank you, Fleur.” He said as he looked up at her, standing upright when he'd caught his breath and calmed down. “That guy's just...not right. Photo Finish was right about him.”

“She told you about him?” she questioned. Looking up at her eyes, her gaze had softened; she was the Fleur he remembered now, warmer and more open.

“Yes. He barged in last week, after our first shoot. He...made some remarks.” Feather explained. “Photo warned me about him a little.”

“I see.” Fleur brought a hand up to his cheek, making him hold still as she looked over his muzzle and face. “Did he hurt you?”

“N-no, I'm fine.” Her fingers were soft against his cheek as she held him and smiled down at him. Her next words made him confused, however.

“Thank you, Feather.”

“For what?”

Fleur smiled at him, and his heart jumped as she spoke. “Your commitment to our project. Some ponies would have succumbed to Flare's tactics and simply allowed him to take over. But you persisted. If I was to be put under contract with him, I would be most afraid for my well-being.” She explained, looking to the door he departed through. “I have spoken to the models he has worked with in the past. The stories they told me...he is different from who he once was. Too arrogant. Too forceful. His spark is faded now.”

Featherweight nodded. “I wouldn't do that to you. I'd hate myself if I made you uncomfortable. I'd never want that.” He insisted. “I only want to do right by you.”

Fleur glanced over at him, her smile bright as she listened. “You are truly dedicated, aren't you?”

Featherweight rubbed the back of his head and looked aside at the floor, too bashful to meet her gaze again. “W-well, this whole thing isn't just about me. It's about you too. I can't just ignore you or pretend you don't matter. You do matter, a lot. To me.” He realized he was fumbling, and straightened up. “Anyway, we should probably go now. No need to hang around here, right?”

Fleur gave a small giggle that made him look to her. “Nervous to be in a room alone with a mare, Feather?” Her tease made his cheeks burn, and he looked away as he sought the right words to try and be witty back to her. She gave him no chance, instead leaning in and pecking his cheek with a light kiss that shut down his thought process to focus on the brief contact instead.

“Come along, Feather. You and I have much more work to do together.” Fleur said, opening the door and waiting for him to follow. Her bright violet eyes seemed to shine with something unfamiliar to Feather. Something different, but something promising only good things to him. He settled for a nod, and followed the mare out of the room and into the hall. They walked side by side, the stallion more comfortable in her presence than when he'd been dragged up here by Flare. She continued speaking to him, their chatter filling the quiet of the hall and elevator as they went. For Featherweight, they could've walked for miles if they needed to, so long as he could do it at her side. It was where he wanted to be, now more than ever.