The Color of Something Wonderful
The Color of Something Wonderful
"She's crimson!" The mare cried in a fit, "just like my mother!"
"No, she's not!" The stallion replied, pointing to himself with a hoof. "She's maroon, she takes after me."
Pastel Shades had heard this debate a thousand times... today. Just like every other day, it was up to her, the resident color-expert, to solve it. As she sat in her office, examining the little foal carefully and comparing it's fur to the dozens of color swatches within the red spectrum, she silently grew annoyed at the two parents arguing just on the other side of her desk. She kept her calm resolve, however: you'd be surprised how many bits argumentative parents were willing to pay for her service.
At last she found a match, and she spoke up.
"Congratulations, she is neither", Pastel said in a tone of utter disinterest. "she is actually cardinal." Pastel herself only knew how to identify colors, she never cared to understand how a newborn pony's colors were determined; she left that to the scientists and doctors. She did know however that it had to do with genetics, and sometimes they'd take after a certain pony in the family, and other times they'd combine colors, and... in general, it was the whole mess of the rainbow.
The two parents appeared shocked, almost angry. As though their entire lifeline depended on being right. "What? That's preposterous!"
"On that, we can agree," the stallion replied. This isn't the first time Pastel had seen such a strong reaction from parents. Ponies took their colors very seriously... for one reason or another. Even she did - her cutie mark proves that. She had her own reasons for that, though.
"I am never wrong," Pastel replied bluntly. On that, she was indeed right. She was an expert of colors; able to tell the difference between hundreds of shades of colors, and she even scored highly on color-vision tests.
She held up the swatch with the matching color, for them both to see. They both stared intently at it for a while, looking between their offspring and the swatch with great intensity. After a moment, the mare picked up her foal and stormed out. The stallion grumbled, tossing several bits onto the desk, disappointed as he turned to leave.
On his way out, Pastel added, "and by the way, you're actually burgundy." With a snide glance, she continued with, "that one's free." The stallion didn't achnowledge her as he exited, the door closing behind him. With the both of them gone, she got up from her desk, collected the swatches, and placed them back into their respective drawer - one of many lining the walls, all full of swatches and organized by basic color.
With the two of them gone, she was able to finally relax.
So, she slumped back into her chair, resting her head on her hooves, on her desk. This job, believe it or not, was actually quite draining. Most of the time, she'd leave ponies upset as they left. It's not her fault, she knows that, but it's draining nonetheless. Other times, when she proved one pony or another right, they'd leave happy. Sometimes they'd be astonished, but otherwise in good moods. Most often, though, they were upset.
Before she was able to truly relax, a knock was heard at the door. With a groan, she beckoned them. "Come in." As they did so, she raised her head back up and put on a pleasant... well, a stoic, expression.
In came a stallion unicorn, a foal suspended in his magic beside him. "Hi, uh... this is Silver Coin, I'd like to know what color he is, please." Silver Coin? Ugh, another case of a name that goes completely against the color of the child. It always was a pet-peeve of Pastel's. What, are these ponies color-blind?
Still, Pastel was tired. And most of all, she hated abrupt walk-ins. She always preferred the appointments. That way, she could get the swatches ready and organized.
"He's blue."
"Are you sure? I always thought he was, like,silver..."
Yep, color-blind. "He's absolutely blue and you're color-blind, aren't you?" Blunt, but honest.
"Well, yes, but-"
"He's blue." She didn't really care to get more specific than that, and so she quickly ushered him and the foal out without payment, placing an 'out to lunch' sign on the door, even though lunch had passed hours ago. Returning to her desk, she took out some paper, a quill, and a variety of colored inks. The inks weren't quite as... diverse as her swatches, but they were diverse enough.
Pastel Shades readied her quill and started to draw. She drew for an hour or two, filling in the colors where necessary. She wasn't an artist by any means, but she enjoyed it. It was a way to relax and let off steam from work. Her finished drawings were never that pretty, but they were colorful and that's all she really needed. She had always considered getting a job as an artist, but in the end she felt she wanted to keep it as a hobby. More relaxing that way. Still, days like today made her wish she had changed her mind...
That is, until she heard a light, remarkably light knock at the door. She put down the quill. "Sorry, I'm closed! Come back tomorrow!" There was another couple of knocks. "I said I'm closed!" More knocks.
Keep it together, Pastel. With a sigh, she rose from her chair and approached the door, opening it quickly. "What do you-" There was no one there.
At least, there wasn't until she looked down.
Below her stood a foal. A colt. Older than the ones she normally saw - they were typically newborn - yet still small. She knew right-away his fur was a shade of orange. He looked up at her with sad eyes. "I-I'm sorry to bother you..."
Darn it. She couldn't keep up her stoic, cold demeanor around a foal like this. "No no, it's... it's okay. Shouldn't you be in school?"
"It let out an hour ago..." He seemed relieved at that, but... not the normal relief a foal would have. A much heavier, much more meaningful relief. It plucked at Pastel Shades' heart in ways she typically didn't let happen. She couldn't, in her line of work. She couldn't understand why.
"Well, um... come in-" She stood aside and let the little foal in, closing the door behind him. As softly as she could manage - which, unfortunately, wasn't too soft - she asked. "What's your name...?"
The foal walked in and climbed up onto one of the seats opposite her desk, and sat down on it. Pastel chose to take the chair beside him, feeling that the coldness of the desk between them would remind her too much of her job. It was too impersonal. The foal looked up at her with big eyes. "I'm Bright Pasture", he replied shyly.
"Well, Bright Pasture..." She gathered as much gentleness as she could manage, and continued: "What do you... want?" She could tell he walked in with something in mind. This wasn't just normal, foal-ish curiosity.
"C-can you make me a different color?" His expression became clearer; it was an expression of sadness, a heavy kind of sadness that hurt to look at.
"Make.... make you a different color?" Pastel Shades was floored. Why would he want that? She could understand if he was bright and happy, wanting to be the color of his favorite storybook character or idol or something, but she could tell it wasn't like that. It was something much more meaningful.
"Yeah..." It looked like he struggled to talk for a moment, but to Pastel's surprise, he began to explain. "E-everyone at school keeps making fun of me. They keep... they keep saying... that I'm the color of lava!" He seemed upset at this. Not crying, but definitely upset. Pastel was, needless to say, surprised. That... doesn't really sound that bad. Lava's cool, and she's always liked shades of orange. She kept that to herself, though, as she could tell Bright Pasture felt very, very differently.
And that's what matters right now.
"Well, um... Bright? I... I can't make you a different color." He looked up at her with sadness in his eyes, a sadness that penetrated the soul. "B-but... all those other kids... are you sure they're making fun of you? A lot of ponies think that... lava is cool." Bright seemed frustrated at this.
"Yeah, well I don't! I don't wanna be the color of lava, it's dangerous and... and scary!" Pastel was never that good with foals, but she had never heard of a colt who didn't like lava.
"...What do you want to be the color of?" She had to explore this. Curiosity, and all that.
"Something nice, and... pretty. Something that makes everypony happy." Okay, that was the cutest thing Pastel had ever heard. She couldn't help but feel for the colt. Most definitely. She sat in silence for a moment, inspecting the sad little colt, before she had an idea. She gently smiled at him.
"You are the color of something pretty." Before he could reply, Pastel diligently got up from her chair and approached her desk. Opening one of the drawers, she pulled out a variety of papers, each one an assortment of doodles and drawings with many colors presented. Of those, she sorted the ones with various shades of orange.
"You're the color of monarch butterflies", she explained as softly as possible with a smile as she held up the drawing of a crudely-drawn, but expertly colored, butterfly. She could already see Bright watched with interest as the beginnings of a smile began to grow on his face. She held up another drawing; this time, depicting a rabbit eating a carrot. "And carrots. You like carrots, right?" Bright Pasture nodded shyly, that hint of a smile ever growing, his sadness seemingly washing away.
"And you know what else?" Pastel smiled a bit wider herself as she said this. "It's the color of sunsets..." Sure, it was... obvious, but sometimes a bit of sadness can blind us to the obvious... Sometimes, it's up to use to remind each-other of that. "Ponies love sunsets."
"I love sunsets", Pastel declared to the colt, who was definitely smiling now.
"I... I guess you're right..." Bright Pasture smiled up at her, a bit more widely, before standing up in his chair, examining the other drawings on her desk with interest. "Did you draw these?"
"Colored them too," Pastel added with a hint of pride in her voice.
"Can... can I have this one...?" He pointed a hoof - as tiny as it was - at the drawing of the butterfly. At first, Pastel was a little bit disappointed - she was... admittedly, proud of that one... but that's why she wanted him to have it.
"Sure, you can have it." She reached down and gently rubbed his white, messy mane with her hoof, before kneeling down a bit to look at him. "Don't let anypony tell you that you aren't the color of something wonderful, okay? ... Feeling better?" She asked this with a smile, hoping that she had, indeed, lifted his spirits.
He smiled up at her slightly, holding the drawing of the butterfly to his chest. "Yeah... um... t-thank you..." He shyly looked away, before looking down at the drawing again and smiling. Alas, all good things must end, so she begins to walk over to the door.
"You're welcome back any time, Bright, but you should probably get going. I'm sure your parents are wondering where you are." Bright looked at her with a smile as he hopped down from the chair, still holding that drawing securely. "Yeah, you're probably right."
As he began to walk through the door, he stopped and looked up at her. "Thank you, again... um..."
"Pastel Shades", she replied with a small, genuine smile.
He continued to smile. "That's a pretty name." With that, he trotted off to find his parents, leaving Pastel to close the door for the last time today. As she went and sat back down at her desk, she looked at the drawings, then at the drawers of swatches along the wall. She smiled.
It can be an unpleasant job, but it's a necessary job, and it's those small moments that make it worth it. Those small moments are the color of something wonderful.
Author's Note
I really, really hope you enjoyed this. I just sat down with the intention of writing this silly little comedy story, and it kinda grew from there after I realized - it's a silly situation, but I'm not actually good at writing comedy.
I hope what I ended with is far more wholesome and interesting.
