Crimson's Cutie Mark

Crimson sat on the bench in front of Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns, rose eyes staring at the pavement in front of her. Her off-white coat stood out against the dark bench, though not as much as her bright pink mane and tail. Crimson’s mother, White Heart, had gone overboard on the hair ties, her mane sporting both a ponytail in back and pigtails to either side.

Her father, Gorat Lockheart, added another tie to hold her tail upward. Most ponies wouldn’t sport such a look until they were old enough that flaunting their under-tail goods was acceptable. He liked his blank-flank flaunting it, but if anypony asked, it was Crimson’s idea.

For now, what he’d do next filled her mind. Her backpack sat beside her, open with the crumpled paper that contained her test results at the top. Gorat wouldn’t like those results.

“Well, aren’t you a cute one,” a kind voice spoke. “What’s wrong, little filly?”

Crimson looked up to see a stallion unicorn with a boring brown coat and a blond mane. He sported a bowtie and had a saddlebag full of books and loose paper. Crimson assumed he was a professor.

“I failed,” Crimson monotoned. “I failed so hard that I got out early, so I’m waiting for my parents.”

“Aw, that’s too bad,” the stallion said. “Don’t let it get to you. Advanced magic isn’t for everypony and isn’t as glamorous a subject as many think. You’ll find something you love even more.”

“My parents were sure I’d make it,” Crimson said.

“Hm,” the stallion pondered. “What do your parents do, if I might ask?”

“Dad is a prostitute at The Fetish House brothel,” said Crimson. “Mom is a romance author.”

“Both fine lines of work, but I wouldn’t expect them to birth a mage,” Hayscartes said. “Any wizards in your family?”

Crimson shook her head.

“Mind if I see your test results?” asked Hayscartes.

Crimson pulled the results out of her backpack with her telekinesis. Telekinesis was all she rated well for her age. She failed every other test.

The stallion’s eyes widened when he saw the results, and Crimson sighed. She could tell he wasn’t used to seeing scores that low. When parents wanted their foal to take the entrance exam, there was an expectation they had shown enough promise to not fail to that extent.

“If you don’t mind,” the stallion asked, placing the paper back. “Why did your parents make you take the test? Maybe I could talk to them when they get here if they’re pushing you into something you aren’t suited for. As I said, everypony has a talent for something.”

“Because of this,” Crimson pulled a book from her bookbag. “It’s a story I wrote.”

The filly opened the book, but she didn’t read the story. Instead, her horn glowed, a surge of magic covering the book as she concentrated. The page rippled, and words shifted on the page. A few seconds later, a small quill emerged from the page. Crooked and charred, the quill disintegrated soon after creation.

“Indeed. That isn’t something they test for,” the stallion gasped. “Did you…”

“I wrote a story that had a quill in it,” Crimson explained. “I pulled the quill from the story, but it’s all mangled.”

“No wonder they had you take the test,” the stallion said. “Little filly, what is your name?”

“Crimson Heart,” said Crimson.

“Crimson,” said the stallion. “My name is Hayscartes, a professor at this school. Regardless of your test scores, I’d like to take you as my personal pupil.”

“What?” Crimson stared.

“What you did is like a technique I’ve been working on, and not an easy one,” explained Hayscartes. “I’m sure you are excellent at writing, but it would be a waste for you to be only an author. If you wish, I will sit here with you until your parents arrive and speak to them.”

“Are you sure that’s what you want?” Crimson asked. “You’re not just trying to get me alone with you in your house?”

“Pardon?” Hayscartes looked confused. “What do you mean?”

“Never mind,” Crimson backtracked. “I spout nonsense sometimes; it’s a gift. Let’s wait for them.”

“I’m surprised you haven’t already gotten your cutie mark for doing that,” Hayscartes said. “That’s encouraging; maybe it means your actual talent is even more amazing.”

Crimson did not understand why he was so nice. Getting her alone so he could get at her underage flank was the only reason Crimson could imagine for him to give that much positive reinforcement to a stranger. Whatever he wanted, at least it would mitigate the punishment she’d get for her test scores.