Concept Art - Captured in Stone
Concept Art - Captured in Stone
Draw
—Georg
(with editing assistance by The Music Man and Bad Horse)
From the Desk of Princess Celestia and Princess Luna:
TO: Cold Chisel de Rosewood, presently residing at the estate of Jet Set
RE: Patronage
BE IT ENACTED by the most Excellent Highnesses, Princess Celestia and Princess Luna, Diarchs of Equestria, by and with the advice and consent of the Council of Advisers in this current Council assembled, and by the authority of the same, as follows:
A sculpture shall be created for placement in the Royal Canterlot Gardens commemorating the bearers of the Elements of Harmony and their services to Equestria. A careful and extensive search has been made of all sculptors in Equestria, and the Honorable Cold Chisel has been selected to craft this sculpture in honor of these six heroes. It is our wish...
Cold Chisel scanned down the commission, skipping the flowery language until he finally came to the most important part: The Price. He mused for a while, resting his hooves in front of the fireplace while sipping a decent Merlot, with only the slightest of regrets to the plebeian local parentage of the otherwise excellent vintage. The middle-aged unicorn picked a fleck of lint from his well-brushed coat and leaned back in the recliner with a scowl to think.
His welcome at the estates of Canterlot’s elite was drawing swiftly to a close. The privilege of having the famous sculptor lounge around their expensive mansions and eat their kitchens bare had been a great social coup at first, but the invitations had slowly dwindled as the rich and famous had gotten to know him. With no wealthy patron willing to expend the funds necessary to support him in the manner to which he had become accustomed, he had been forced to reduce his expenditures to the bare necessities; hooficures were now only a weekly occurrence, and he had even begun to using a domestic shampoo on his majestic golden mane. Not to mention having sunk to dwelling at the estate of a detestable social climber who had actually earned his money instead of inheriting it like proper rich ponies.
“I should have never come to this dreary city merely for the lowly task of restoring a broken statue. And it was not even one of my better works!”
He took another sip, seriously considering pitching the accursed flowery scroll into the flames to watch it burn, until he rustled up against the rest of his morning mail. Bills, bills, bills, an overdue notice, and a note from the bank refusing to advance any more funds from his relatively weak stream of income. He tucked the scroll away and stuffed the rest of the mail viciously into the fire with a frustrated snarl. “Materialists!”
At least repairing that accursed statue for Princess Celestia had staved off his creditors for a few weeks. He gave a wry smile at the memory of the idiotic inspectors attempting to find a single flaw on the repaired statue in order to reduce his fee. His masterful repairs upon what the barbarian natives insisted on calling “Celestia the Peacemaker” were as perfect and seamless as his original majestic carving, even though the statue’s torso and several limbs had been shattered into dozens of pieces by a gang of vandals who had somehow forced their way into the Grand Galloping Gala.
His smile turned to a scowl as he considered the full forty or more detestable, locally created statues bearing similar names scattered across Canterlot Castle like rabbit pellets. They were but the work of untalented hicks and boobs with hammers. His would be the work that would span the ages.
* * *
The train that Cold Chisel took to Ponyville felt like a nightmare of wheezing and gasping ancient parts, ready to expire at any moment. As it pulled into the station, he felt amazed that it had survived all the way down from the mountains of Canterlot to the depressing little rural town where the bearers of the Elements of Harmony lived. It seemed such a plain place for them all to have gathered, when it would have only taken them a few hours to travel to Canterlot and live like heroes.
He shrugged at the thought and put it out of his mind. It really did not matter to him where they lived, only that he would be able to make a quick sketch of each of them for his commission. Before he stepped out of the train, he checked the placement of his favorite easel in his loaded saddlebags, each embroidered with the handsome chisel over a curved line that adorned his flanks. His prepaid ticket was secure within the bags, and he had no need for a jacket to cover his handsome granite-red coat on this pleasant day. Before nightfall, he would be back on the train and wiping the dust of this place from his hooves.
The morning sun shone warmly on Cold Chisel’s shoulders as he looked about the shabby town and sneered. No art galleries, no decent sculpture of any type, just cheap trinkets resembling candy hearts scattered all around the crude pan de bois architecture that looked like a disgusting melange of Europonian peasant hovels. A curl came to his lip as he glanced across the flammable thatch that was draped over the vast majority of the huts; civilized ponies at least had tile roofs. This barbarian outpost was less a town than a collection of tinder in desperate need of a match.
The conditions of the commission he had accepted twisted in his gut like a badly digested meal mixing with poor wine. As in any normal commission, his first upcoming payment was to fund the creation of a scale model concept statue, which would be presented to Princess Celestia and Princess Luna. Only after their approval, would funding for the final work begin. The indignity of the contract was the final disposition of the first scale model. No museum or estate of nobility was to house his excellent preliminary work. Instead, it would suffer the degrading fate of being dumped back into this cultureless town, much as casting pearls before swine. They would probably even display it by — he shuddered — putting it on a fountain.
Still, there was a certain rough charm about the town’s inhabitants. Not even in Canterlot was there such a difference between the numbers of mares and stallions. After a moment, he blinked in realization. He was the only stallion out on the street.
Vive la différence! Oh well, business before pleasure.
He sniffed as he examined a rather crude map adorning the walls of the dirty train station. After a few moments of searching, he located the first subject referenced on the commission’s “work order,” a supposedly culturally advanced unicorn named Rarity. With a toss of his head to throw back his golden mane in the morning sunlight, he trotted over to an airy and quaint structure called the Carousel Boutique.
“Ah. Bonjour, Mademoiselle Rarity de Ponyville. Je suis Cold Chisel—”
As he began to speak, an alabaster white unicorn mare gave a shrill, piercing shriek of joy from the middle of what could only be called a sea of cloth scraps. She clutched her hooves to her face before bounding at him so rapidly that a trail of loose threads and colored scraps flew behind her in a wake. For one moment, he was frozen between fleeing and diving for cover. She was indeed a beautiful mare, but the thought crossed his mind that perhaps he had entered some sort of asylum or hospital by mistake. Fortunately she skidded to a halt before impact, but then began babbling about his sculpture project in horribly-accented Fancy at such a rapid pace and with such bad grammar that he could only catch about one word in ten. If this was an example of the cultural height of the town, it was probable the rest of the wretched inhabitants would speak in nothing but grunts and pantomime.
As he set his easel up to make a preliminary charcoal sketch of the young, chattering mare, he finally snapped, “Young lady, please! Your accent is simply too thick for me to make any sense out of what you think you are saying. I am only here for a short while to make a few creative sketches for the piece. If I could just get your cooperation. Just... stand over there.” He looked again, and his bottom lip curled with disdain. “And remove that hat.”
“This hat?” She had not been wearing a hat when he entered the shop, but somehow she had acquired one before taking her place to pose. Rarity touched the hat nervously. “Really, I couldn’t.”
Cold Chisel placed charcoal to his paper and began to draw. “Just throw it somewhere in with the rest of the trash.”
“Trash?” A distasteful look crossed her otherwise beautiful face in the middle of a stroke. He scowled, and moved his charcoal to draw her flank, trying to capture the essence of her twisted tail.
“I don’t think you’re getting the tail right. It has more loops than that and more... swishy.” Cold Chisel looked up to see Rarity looking over his shoulder with a frown of disappointment.
“Ma’am, just go back over there and let me draw! And lose the skirt.”
“Moi? Well, I suppose.”
Chisel sighed and returned to his work, tracing the elegant lines of the dress that... dress? He looked up to see the unicorn wearing a full ball gown complete with yet another accursed hat. “Madam, I do not wish to draw your outfits, I wish to draw you! Now take that off!”
“You mean naked?”
“Madame!” he thundered. “You were not wearing anything when I came in here!”
“Well, yes. But a proper lady does not have herself sketched alone être à poil. Except... there were those few times in college, but that was for art, and I really needed the money. Well, I suppose.” The unicorn mare slipped behind a dressing screen while Cold Chisel wadded up his ruined drawing and threw it away.
“Now! Hold still. Look up to your left a bit. A little more. Now hold it.” Cold Chisel began sketching again, the charcoal fairly flying across the page.
“Do I really look that fat to you?”
He looked up. There was no Rarity. He looked around. There was still no Rarity.
He looked behind himself, and the white unicorn in question was leaning over his shoulder, examining the unfinished sketch as if she were a critic. There was a special place in Tartarus for all critics everywhere, particularly ones who criticized his unfinished works.
“Really, darling. I don’t think you have the flanks right, and the proportion of my legs is all wrong, plus you have my cutie mark drawn in dark icky charcoal where it should be a soft blue, and—”
“SIT!” Cold Chisel fumed and pointed until his reluctant subject returned to the pose. Then he picked up his charcoal and began to draw again, across the flanks, up the lace trail of the hat to her... hat? He looked up.
“LOSE THE HAT!” he bellowed in frustration.
“But I don’t think the light flows correctly across my face without—”
“Arrrgh!” He stood up and threw his easel back into his saddlebags. “Never mind!” With a snort of disgust, the sculptor stormed out of the boutique.
“I wonder if a scarf would be too much?” Rarity shook her head and returned to her work. The handsome artist’s visit had put her far behind schedule. There was so much to get done before this evening, and her friends were counting on her.
* * *
Cold Chisel stalked into the Ponyville Library and looked around with pleasant surprise. From the outside, he had expected the old hollow oak tree covered with windows and doors to contain nothing but old farming magazines and dusty books, but the well-lit inside seemed larger than the outside as well as considerably better stocked than he had expected. He ran a hoof across one shelf, admiring the meticulous way the books were all stacked together and sorted by genre, language, and author. But once his attention left the shelves, his opinion plunged.
The table in the middle of the library was covered with some of the worst sort of trash imaginable: commercial picture art books. Trashy chunks of borderline garbage, with dozens of tiny photographs of what passed for art in this blighted land, all glued together and sold to foolish socialites to adorn their coffee tables. The mere sight of them made him want to be messily sick.
“Spike?” sounded a soft and velvety voice from the middle of the room behind the pile of trashy books. “Is there somepony at the door? Spike?”
A cute purple unicorn with a striped mane popped her head out from behind her book fort and looked at Cold Chisel with a sudden embarrassed smile. “Oh, you must be Cold Chisel. You’re early! Or I’m late. Oh, no! The letter from the Princess said you would be coming to Ponyville to do some sketches, but she didn’t say when. I would have met you at the train station if I had known. See, I left a spot for ‘Meet sculptor at train station’, right under ‘Study up on art’ and ‘Wake Spike from nap’ on my checklist!” A faint snore filtered down from upstairs and Cold Chisel wondered briefly what a ‘Spike’ was before turning to the task at hoof.
“My time here is limited, Mademoiselle Twilight Sparkle. All I wish is to take a few preliminary sketches of the Element Bearers and return to Canterlot so I may produce a scale model of the final statue. If it pleases my patron, she will then advance me the funds necessary—”
“You mean they.” Twilight Sparkle blinked and waved a hoof. “I know it can be difficult to remember that we now have two Princesses since Luna was freed from the moon, but—”
“He, she, or it! I do not care!” Cold Chisel pulled his easel out of his saddlebag and slammed it down in the middle of the floor. “I must have a sketch so I may get the proper proportions on the statue. It is the only way—”
“If you need our measurements, I’m certain Rarity would be able to give them to you. She measured all of us for our outfits at the Grand Galloping Gala. I just know she would be happy to make you a copy.”
He fumed. “Madame Rarity is exceedingly busy with—”
“Voulez-vous dire ‘Mademoiselle Rarity’? I mean she’s not married, so the proper form of address is Mademoiselle instead of Madame. Did I say that correctly? I mean I’ve studied a lot in books, but—”
“Just hold still and look like you are doing something heroic, so I may make my sketch and depart!” He levitated out a fresh chunk of charcoal and began to draw across his paper with sure and strong strokes. This mare was an easy one to draw: straight mane, straight back, even curve on the tail, big eyes, levitated book... He abruptly stopped and looked up while wadding up his drawing. “Lose the book.”
“But I wanted to look up the grammar while I was just standing here. Maybe if I—”
“No! The Elements of Harmony are strong warriors! With the power of the Elements, they defeated Discord and Nightmare Moon. A book does not fit! Hold that pose and look up at that window over there.” He bent over his charcoal again, straight back, curved tail, straight mane, straight horn, eyes looking up... and down. He wadded up his drawing again and glared daggers at the young mare who was still trying to read the book she had placed on the floor.
“Miss Sparkle! Do not move this time! Just ignore the book and look out the window so I can get this done!” He picked up his charcoal again: back, legs, mane, tail, forelegs, forelegs, smile, forelegs, balloons, fore—
Cold Chisel looked up with a ferocious scowl at where the purple unicorn was talking energetically with a fluffy, pink earth pony. “Miss SPARKLE! Who, or what is that?!”
“Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie! I heard you were going to come here and do drawings of all of us so you could make a big rock that shows everypony how we are the Elements of Harmony and I thought gee we already have a big rock that Rarity brought back because she thought it was a diamond but it was just a rock and we already have one of those so I thought instead of a rock we could have candy which would be so cool and everypony would love it because everypony loves candy just like everybody loved Discord’s chocolate milk rain clouds but I guess not everypony but I did because they were yummy but he’s gone so all we have is regular chocolate milk now—”
Twilight Sparkle plugged the pink pony’s mouth with one hoof. “Maybe you could draw my friend and I at the same time?”
“NO!” snapped the sculptor with a snarl. “You! Stand over there and shut up! I will draw you next. You! Stand there and look out the window! And try to look like an Element!”
Cold Chisel picked up his charcoal again. Back, legs, mane, tail, fluffy mane, grin, horn—
He looked up again at where Pinkie Pie was posing over the purple unicorn’s flank and grinning. With a growl of frustration, he flung his easel back into his bags and stalked out of the library, ignoring Twilight Sparkle’s worried voice.
“Um. Mister Chisel? Are you coming back? Hello? Oh no.”
* * *
The brisk walk in the country air made Cold Chisel feel a little better and allowed him to cool his temper. Certainly there must be something in the water that made all the mares in that small town crazy. Perhaps the Elements of Harmony affected their minds in weird and untold ways. At least out here he could hear the birds chirping, the fish splashing, and the creatures chittering in the trees, all of which made him feel like he was back in his native Northern Prance. He followed the map to a small cottage with more bird feeders and nests than he had ever seen and knocked firmly on the door.
“Mademoiselle Fluttershy? It is I, Cold Chisel, here to take your sketch for the Princesses’ new statue.” He knocked again and frowned. There were some small rustling noises inside, but nopony was answering the door. It would be most embarrassing if he were to knock on the wrong door. The Element of Kindness was supposed to be a yellow pegasus, but this house did not look very pegasus-like, having stone and earth construction and a green turf roof. It almost had to be an earth pony house, but according to his instructions the only earth ponies he had to draw were the annoying pink one who lived in the town, and a rural landowner of an apple estate. He looked around, but the only apple orchard he could see was some distance away.
He knocked again, a little quieter this time. “Hello? Is this the house of Mademoiselle Fluttershy?”
This time there was a tiny little squeak, and the door opened just a crack. The only thing he could see from the doorway was a sliver of yellow and pink, interrupted by a beautiful teal eye that sent his heart racing as if he were a colt again.
“Bonjour. My name is Cold Chisel, and I have been selected to create a work of art suitable for the Royal Gardens honoring the Elements of Harmony. I have little time, so if I could get you to come out in the sun for a few minutes and hold still—” His voice dropped to a rumble. “And not have any pink ponies pop up—” Forcing a normal expression back on his face with a polite smile, he continued, “I can get a sketch done. Would that be acceptable to you, Mademoiselle?”
“T-t-today? D-d-d-draw me?” Her voice gave a little squeak at the end. “C-c-could I have Rarity w-with me p-please? For support? I-I didn’tknowyouwerecomingtodayandI’mnotready.”
The thought of the overdressed unicorn tightened the corners of his mouth as it reminded him of his detestable contract. It was always best to deal with reluctant models firmly, to show them just who was in control of any modeling session.
“No,” he commanded coldly. “She is otherwise occupied. Now hurry out here, my time is limited.”
“I’m r-r-really sorry. I j-just can’t come out.” The door even gave a timid click when closed, and all of his knocking and pleading did nothing to open it.
* * *
Cold Chisel fumed as he trotted along the road among the apple trees, trying his best to get a look through the trees for at least one of the Element bearers who could just hold still—
“Hi there!” The accursed perky pink pony bounced along beside him, matching his speed. “What ‘cha doin’?”
Chisel passed by several responses, at least one of which would have gotten him arrested, before settling on a somewhat strained polite, “Mademoiselle Pinkie Pie, I am looking for a pony named Applejack. She is supposedly a landowner of some sort. I would imagine she is out managing her estate somewhere about here. I’ve been looking for some of the p—” He quickly edited out the word ‘peasants’ “—onies around here that work on the farm to give me directions to where she resides, but I have not seen any.”
Pinkie Pie giggled as she continued to bounce along beside him. “That’s silly. The Apple family works all the time. I bet she’s in the south field with her big brother. Come on! You can draw us both!”
True to the pink pony’s word, there were three ponies working the south field: Large, Medium, and small. The large stallion bore a rich coat the hue and shade of expensive Aswan granite, and was of such a size such that it would take a great amount of work to carve his likeness, even as a scale model. The medium mare could easily be carved from less expensive cryptocrystalline quartz, cheaply dyed to match her rather unique shade of orange. The small one he ignored as there was no possibility she could be one of the Elements of Harmony.
Cold Chisel approached the sweaty medium-sized pony, but before he could say a word, Pinkie Pie jumped in with all four hooves.
“Hey Applejack! The sculptor who the Princess sent the letter about is here and he wants to draw pictures of us to make some big rock thingie but not like Tom more like one of those big statues that Rainbow Dash broke at the Gala when—”
“Pinkie! Can ya hush up a sec and let the poor guy talk?” Applejack gave a solid buck at the tree, and the sky rained apples around Cold Chisel. “Twilight said you were coming up this way sometime, but this here’s darned poor timing. We gotta finish bucking this whole field and get ‘em in the barn before the rain tonight. It’s gonna be a soaker. If’n you had told us afore you came up, we could’a worked something out, but I can’t come into town for yer sketch thingie now, we’re way behind here.”
With a subdued growl of resentment and a fake smile, the sculptor began to pull items out of his saddlebag. “I shall not take up much of your time then. Allow me to set my easel up, and I shall draw you here.”
Cold Chisel carefully backed up out of apple falling range, picked up his charcoal, and considered his subject. The mare’s hat bothered him, but after a moment of thought he decided not to make an issue out of it. The sun was already quite a bit farther along than he had anticipated, and the hat seemed more a part of the sweaty blonde mare than a simple accessory. It would make that part of the statue easier to carve anyway. He scowled and moved his easel to an unharvested tree as the mare had completed harvesting and moved while he was thinking. In one smooth motion, he raised his charcoal and touched it to his paper.
“What ’cha doin’?” In defiance of all natural laws, somehow the pink pony had popped up directly under his easel. The resulting startled jump smeared a huge streak black streak across Chisel’s paper, as well as bringing his temper dangerously close to a boil. He carefully pulled off the smudged front sheet of paper and wadded it up in silent contemplation of physical violence.
Then he had to move the easel because Applejack had finished with the nearby tree and moved onto the next. A flurry of rapid drawing allowed him to almost get an entire apple-marked flank drawn before Pinkie Pie descended unnoticed from a branch into his view. With a fierce scowl, he wadded up and threw away the drawing of either an Apple Pie or a Pinkeyjack, depending on which end you started at.
After nearly thirty minutes of failed freakish drawings criss-crossing the orchard in a long trail of wadded-up papers, he flung down his charcoal with a muttered curse.
Applejack paused in her apple-bucking to call back over one shoulder as he stomped away. “Hey! Watch yer language, mister. There’s fillies present!”
Apple Bloom nodded from under her basket of apples. “Yeah. Or at least speak up. I didn’t get half of that one.”
* * *
The defeated sculptor stomped in a blind fury down the path back to town, trying to ignore the pink bouncing pony to his side.
“Draw me again! Oh! Oh! Draw me! I can make a face like this! Or this! Or this!”
“Pinkie Pie!” bellowed Cold Chisel. “I have used up all of my paper except one sheet trying to get you to stand still long enough to make a sketch that has four legs and only one head! I’ve only got one sheet left for this Rainbow pony, and I’m not going back to Canterlot without at least ONE GOOD SKETCH!”
There was a flutter of wings from the gathering clouds above, and a sweaty blue pegasus with rainbow mane dropped down to hover in front of them. “Hiya Pinkie. Who ya torturing?”
Pinkie Pie giggled, “Oh, silly Rainbow Dash. I don’t torture anypony. I’m just trying to get this stuffy McCrabby Pants to smile and enjoy this beautiful day. He’s the sculptor the Princess sent to make a statue of all of us but not really turn us into a statue like a cockatrice or basilisk but just carve a big rock up like Tom and make into a statue of all of us and I hope he finds a pretty pink rock for me but if that doesn’t work he could use bubblegum because there’s always a lot of bubblegum and if you leave it out it gets really hard. Do you have any gum?”
Rainbow Dash shook her head and grinned. “Well, mister sculptor. If you think you can capture my awesomeness on one piece of paper, you go right ahead. You should have caught me earlier today before we started gathering clouds for tonight’s downpour. We’ve got a schedule to keep here, and there’s not much time left until we get this storm started.”
Cold Chisel took a deep breath and grabbed for his easel and charcoal with the speed of a cowpony drawing a lasso. “Miss Dash, just hold still for just one minute so I can sketch—”
Rainbow Dash struck a series of heroic poses while talking, “Hey Pinkie, with the extra bits I got from overtime, I should be able to get back in the monthly game tonight. Make sure they wait up for me if I’m late.
“Whoops, gotta run. Ditzy’s stacking the clouds too deep and we don’t want hailstones tonight. See ya!”
There was a rainbow colored blue blur and the pegasus zipped off into the low-lying clouds, yelling something about overstacking and cumulonimbus. Chisel gave one look at his last remaining sheet of paper with a bold explosion of lines on it that bore only vague resemblance to a pony, or perhaps a chicken-spider, and wadded it up before screaming, “A monument to the Elements of Harmony should be a big collection of blurs and empty space.”
The last wadded-up paper flew away, closely followed by his remaining charcoal, the cardboard backing from the paper pad, and an innocent eraser. Grumbling, he stuffed the easel back into his saddlebags and stomped angrily away.
“So. Where ya goin’ now?”
“Back to Prance! This place is insane and needs to be erased from civilized society! It’s even worse than... Trottingham!”
* * *
How in the world could anypony get LOST in a tiny little piece of trash town like this?
The question rattled around in his head like an echo from a whistle as he rushed through the city streets in the growing dark. But when he galloped to the train station only to see the tail end of the train vanish in the pre-dark gloom, something finally snapped inside him.
“You! Stupid! Train!” Cold Chisel gave an anguished cry and kicked the empty train station, which prompted another anguished cry and a limp. “Stupide train, stupide ponies, stupide town!” A crash of lightning overhead preceded the beginning of a long slow soaking rain. “Stupide pleuvoir!” He collapsed to his haunches in the rain, listening to the train whistle fade away as the darkness closed in. “Stupide moi.”
Concept Art - Captured in Stone
Concept Art - Captured in Stone
Fold
—Georg
(with editing assistance by The Music Man and Bad Horse)
“Is he still out there?” asked a worried Rainbow Dash while getting out the chairs.
Spike pulled a chair up to the Carousel Boutique window so he could see out. “Yep. He’s just sitting there in the rain, glaring at Rarity’s boutique. Maybe he plans on using it in the sculpture. It’s really pretty. I’ve never spent much time looking at it during a storm; does it look different when wet?”
“Ah think them artist fellers are just plain weird, if’n they ain’t got ‘nuff sense to come in out of the rain,” said Applejack, pulling out a couple decks of cards and checking the cellophane seals. “Why doesn’t he just go up to the hotel?”
“Oh dear,” said Fluttershy, peeking out of a top window at the soggy sculptor. “I hope he is going to be okay out there. I mean, my frog friends like this weather, but he’s not a frog. Even if he is from Prance.”
The bell on the front door of Carousel Boutique rang as two dripping ponies hustled in and dried off. Pinkie bounded to the card table with an entire tray filled with snacks across her back and proceeded to hop around, depositing them one at a time around the table in violation of several laws of physics.
“Let’s get this party started! I brought snacks, and goodies, and cupcakes with little hearts and diamonds on them, and candies, and a whole loaf of zucchini bread, and Rainbow Dash said to wait on her but I see her over there so we don’t have to wait so we can start right away!”
Twilight Sparkle shucked out of her rain boots and levitated her umbrella over to the side to dry. “Sorry to be late everypony, but I got distracted by a book, and I had to go pick up Pinkie Pie and the snacks. What are you all looking at outside?”
Applejack broke the seal on a deck of cards and started shuffling. “Oh, that rude fancy pony that dropped by today is out there. Spike thinks he’s studying the architecture of this place for some reason.”
“Oh no! The letter from the Princess didn’t say anything about him sitting in the rain. Should we go out and ask him what’s wrong? Do you think it might break his concentration? I know he got awfully upset with me when he was in the library.”
“I don’t know, Twilight,” said Rainbow Dash as she peeked out the window again. “He still looks kind of mad. Angry too, since he missed his train. And you should have seen the way he left after trying to make a sketch of me. Threw his stuff all over the place.”
“Finally!” Rarity emerged from her dressing room, fully dressed in rain gear with a saddle umbrella. “This thing just takes forever to put on. If you all can setup the snacks and things, I’ll just nip out there in this dreadful rain and see what I can do for the poor stallion.”
* * *
“Pardon me. Excusez moi.” The rain stopped falling around Cold Chisel as an elegantly embroidered umbrella began to hover overhead, supported by a soft blue unicorn aura. “We noticed you sitting out here in the rain. Do you need any help?”
He looked up into the beautiful blue eyes of the first Element he had tried to capture on paper, his first failure in the chain that dogged his steps ever since he set hoof in this detestable town.
“No,” he said with resigned contempt.
“Really, I insist. You’ll catch your death of cold out here if we don’t get you inside right away.”
“No! I deserve this. Let me die of exposure in this filthy backwater little town without a bit to my name and see my artworks blossom in value upon my death. It will be glorious.” He waved a hoof in the direction of Canterlot and coughed.
“Absolutely not! Why, that would be horrid! You come with me right now, I insist.” A light-blue magical aura formed around him and he found himself being dragged forcibly back into the boutique. Once inside, he was shocked to see the subjects he had been attempting to draw all day, sitting around a table with cards and snacks in hoof.
“I... I know all of you. Except...” The most beautiful and delicate yellow pegasus sat demurely by the table, gently nibbling on a piece of cake. The light from the surrounding lanterns lit her with heart-stopping perfection. If he had a block of yellow marble and his tools he would have thrown himself into creating a statue that would capture her essence at this very moment, the way her pink mane gently cascaded from her perfect head and swept up in a delicate curve, the way her tail coiled into a perfect spiral by her hooves. His heart felt as if it were to burst out of his chest, and suddenly he doubled over with a mighty sneeze.
* * *
Somewhere between an hour later and an eternity of embarrassment, Cold Chisel found himself sitting to one side of the ongoing poker game. A bitter taste of irony filled his mouth, competing with a delicious jasmine tea and some of the most delightful pastries he had ever eaten, even in Prance. His dry flanks were wrapped in a soft and warm pink bathrobe (embroidered with a flowing R), a teapot was by one elbow, and a collection of the most tasty and delicious delicacies on his plate. He sighed in deep frustration. After spending all day trying to chase down the bearers of the Elements of Harmony to sketch their likeness, they were all finally stationary and in one place. Unfortunately, all he could think of was how his sketch would be duplicated on velvet and placed in the homes of tens of thousands of middle-class drones, immortalizing his name forever as the classic painter who captured Ponies playing Poker.
(Equestria Hold ‘em by Elenafreckle at Deviantart )
This poker game certainly did not compare to his own younger days of serious card playing among ponies who were most definitely not friends. These young mares chatted constantly as they played, about the weather teams, about the new books in the library, about how who was having financial problems in town, and all kinds of activities that would have normally bored him to tears but were living and breathing concerns to the group of friends. His old poker companions had been fully willing to break limbs if they could gain a temporary advantage from the act, while these young mares held themselves together with mutual affection and respect that made his heart warm.
Interspaced in their conversations were little phrases that struck him as considerably out of place. When a pony normally used the phrase, ‘The Princess says,’ it was only a rhetorical device used to indicate the awesome power of the Divine siding with that pony in an argument. At this table, it was used as casually as if Princess Celestia or Luna were going to walk right in the door and sit down for a few hoofs of cards. Or the phrase ‘something needs to be done,’ normally was a hoof-wringing argument about the inevitability of some needed action that was never actually going to get done, and instead was just going to be another tragic failure. But among these friends it actually turned into a ‘we can do this’ argument that eventually caused one or more of them to volunteer to... do it. It was a dizzying thought: solving a town’s problems by way of a monthly poker game.
* * *
“Mr. Chisel, is everything to your liking? Do you need some more tea?” The white unicorn raised one perfect eyebrow as she looked at him as if to say — exactly what it was she said. He had been living among the rich and powerful so long that an expression of generosity like this without some subtext was disconcerting. Rarity had been the perfect model of an unselfish host, giving up her own warm and fluffy bathroom robe and volunteering her spare bedroom for the night to a stallion she had never met before today. Even the richest estates of Canterlot had never treated him this well. He was quite positive that if he had turned up in exactly the same bedraggled penniless condition at any of his previous patrons’ expensive mansions, he would have been chased away or arrested.
“No, Mademoiselle. Everything is just perfect. Thank you.” He ran a hoof back through his drying golden mane and took another sip of tea, still pleasantly surprised at the warmth it brought to his chest.
“I’m sorry we run you off this afternoon, Mister Chisel,” said the pony-tailed blonde with a guilty look. “I didn’t realize this was so important to ya. I should’a stopped workin’ fer a bit and had Big Mac sit on Pinkie Pie so you could get that drawing you wanted so bad.”
Pinkie Pie giggled. “Oh, that’s always fun! Why didn’t you?”
“That’s fine, Miss Applejack. Perhaps tomorrow. I shall endeavor to work myself into your busy schedule.” That felt just — weird. For every other commission he had accepted, it was the client who came begging for a place on his busy schedule, or he was commanding a model to arrive at a specific place and time. Now, not only was he condescending to a simple farm laborer, he was looking forward to it.
“Well, I just hope we didn’t make any problems for you,” said Twilight Sparkle brightly. “Princess Celestia sounded like she was really looking forward to seeing what you came up with for a sculpture. Maybe the city can put it by the fountain? Or on it? Do you have any idea what it will look like yet?”
Twilight Sparkle was a most unusual young unicorn. While he was being dried and dressed, she had taken the time to compose a letter to both Princess Celestia and Princess Luna informing them of his unexpected stay, and sent the letters to Canterlot magically by way of her dragon’s fiery breath. An extremely brilliant young unicorn indeed with amazing political resources and magical power, although a little short in worldly knowledge if the ‘Card Rules for Eggheads’ book propped up beside her was any indication.
“No problem at all, Mademoiselle. You may assure the Princess— I mean both Princesses that I shall endeavor to complete their concept piece well within their schedule.” And that was another thing bothering him. Nearly every other commission he had accepted since he left Prance felt like a weight around his neck, a burden, a giant millstone that he chiseled away one chip at a time to turn into bits. Now as he sat here looking at the six beautiful young mares, he could feel his creativity flow like a long-dry streambed in a pouring rainstorm. While his horn itched for a block of pure alabaster stone and a chisel, all his eyes wanted to do was just sit here all evening, soaking in their beauty and charm.
“I hope you don’t think we were too forward dragging you in here,” whispered the soft, sweet voice of Fluttershy. “Are you feeling all cozy and dry now?”
Normally being given a straight line like that by a beautiful young thing would have encouraged him to reply with either a sarcastic retort designed to crush her ego, or a sensual invitation for later and more intimate moments. But the urge never came up while gazing into her exquisite turquoise eyes, and he contented himself with a quiet, “I’m fine.”
“Do you like the cupcakes, Mister Chisel? I baked ‘em myself although the sprinkles came from Bon-Bon, and the chocolate was mixed up by Mrs. Cake, but I baked ‘em up good and made sure they were extra scrumptiooous for all my friends, but I don’t mind sharing because a stranger is just a friend you haven’t met yet and I know everybody in town except you, but now I do know you because you came to our poker game, and oh I fold.” Some dark and secluded icy corner of his heart gave a little *ping* as another crystal of bitterness and cynicism he had built up over his career melted.
“They’re wonderful, Pinkie, but I don’t think I can eat another one. Well, after this one.” He took a nice solid bite of the divine pastry and washed it down with a bit more tea.
“Yeah, I’m sorry for letting you get soaked like that.” Rainbow Dash scowled and rearranged her cards in her holder. “Heck, if I had known you weren’t just doing some artist thing sitting there in front of the train station and getting all wet, I would have kicked a hole in the clouds over you. You could have yelled or something. I would have been right there.”
Rainbow Dash continued morosely rearranging her cards as if that would somehow make them change. She had taken a mighty blow to her starting pile of bits early in the game and had hoarded her dwindling supply with little luck. It was no wonder that she lost so quickly; she was marginally worse at concealing her emotions at the table than the blonde, and tended to lurch straight into a failed bluff with her wings fluffed up. Still, from what he could glean from the conversation, she was a regular at the monthly game despite her constant string of losses, if nothing else because of her loyalty to the group. Loyalty that he had never experienced himself. His clients were just that: Clients. They got exactly what they paid for and nothing more. Sometimes less. Most of the time, actually.
“Well, I’m out,” said Rainbow Dash, throwing in her cards. “I need to keep some bits back this month. I promised I’d loan Ditzy some money for Dinky’s school books.”
“Awww,” said Pinkie Pie with a gigantic frown. “We’ll be one short. Oh!” She sprang up into the air, cards flying. “I know! Mister Chisel can play, can’t you? Pleeeeeeeeeeseeeeeeeeeeeeeee?” The impact of her big, blue eyes was only muted slightly by distance, but multiplied by all six lovely young mares looking at him all at once, their gazes could have melted a stallion made of stone.
“Well,” he started apologetically. “I only have a few bits for pocket change. I can’t come up with fifty bits for the buy-in. So—”
“I’ll loan you fifty bits, if you want,” whispered Fluttershy in her gentle voice that made butterflies seem to tickle inside his heart. “You can pay me back whenever you get the bits. I can wait.”
“Well then, I suppose I could sit in for a hoof or two.” He sat down in the chair vacated by Rainbow Dash and tried not to rub his hooves together in glee. He had spent many years as a young colt learning the fine art of cards in the tiny towns and villages of Prance with a mare or two at his elbow. This was going to be easy, and with the bits in the pot he should be able to spend the rest of the rainy night in a proper hotel instead of in the spare bedroom of the lovely Rarity. Which still felt a bit odd to him. It had been many years since he had accepted an offer from a fine young thing to spend the night in her spare bedroom instead of sharing her own bed. Perhaps he was getting old. He levitated the deck of cards and ran through a few sample shuffles with his delicate magical touch. Well, not that old.
After the first few hoofs, the poker game settled into a much more serious vein. Applejack was the first to wipe out, throwing in her cards with such a disgusted shake of her head that her blonde ponytail nearly hit Rarity.
Next to go was Pinkie Pie, betting her remaining stack of bits on a pair of twos. “Because two twos is like twosome, and I just love that word!”
Rarity and Twilight were next to meet on the field of playing card combat, their hoof of cards evolved rapidly into an all-out bidding battle that left the white unicorn with three queens, against Twilight’s straight. After a few minutes of mutual leafing through the rulebook, Rarity finally surrendered with the aid of a fainting couch and tissues.
Cold Chisel sat out the discussion and watched the two other remaining players in the game. The young Twilight Sparkle had a studious face, but no sense of deceit at all. In a professional game, she would either wind up with all the bits, or find herself astutely calculating the odds of the play that wiped her out cold. Still, he got the feeling that she could calculate those odds extremely well and was not a player to underestimate.
Fluttershy was entirely different. At first he thought she would be as easy to read as a foal’s book, but it turned out that while playing, she not only got nervous over being dealt a bad hoof of cards, but also when dealt good cards, bluffing, raising, calling, or picking up a snack. Even trying to read her emotions like regular pegasi was a complete failure; her delicate feathered wings stayed constantly clutched tightly to her flanks with a force so great it would probably take a crowbar to pry them up.
On the next hoof of cards, Twilight went out in royal style with a flurry of raising that ended in her proudly producing a Tenance. This triggered a great deal of flipping frantically through ‘Card Rules for Eggheads,’ only to result in her crushing disappointment when she found out she had somehow wound up on the Whist page instead of the Poker page.
Leaving only Cold Chisel and Fluttershy in the game.
He gathered the cards together and pretended to be looking out the window at the darkness as he shuffled. “The hour is quite late. I think we should play just one more hoof and break for the night. Mademoiselle Fluttershy, do you have somepony to escort you home? It is quite dark now that the rain is concluding, yes?”
“Oh, I don’t mind.”
“But, is your house not next to the Everfree Forest? There could be all kinds of strange things out at night, no?”
“Oh yes, I love meeting new creatures. The nocturnal ones are always so... nice.”
He sighed and continued shuffling the cards, looking around the table at the tired, inattentive mares. Even the dragon had fallen asleep in a little cat-sized bed with a cute little heart-embroidered blanket.
“Very well then.” He dealt the cards with a series of magical flicks across the apparently well-shuffled deck and settled down to the game. Once this hoof was over, he would be able to take his winnings to the hotel, await the morning train, and be gone from this pestilent town. His experiences tonight with the six mares at the poker table could be easily turned into a few sketches from memory. And that could be used to turn out some blandly obsequious hunk of expensive rock with hidden meanings and mystery that would maintain him in the style to which he had become accustomed. For another few months. Until the money ran out. And he had to do it over again. And over. And over.
Suddenly the cards he had dealt himself felt like granite blocks in his magical field. He looked across the table at the beautiful yellow pegasus and tried to swallow the lump that filled his throat.
“I.... fold.” As he returned the cards to the deck, an orange hoof descended on them, pinning them to the table.
“Hold on there a minute mister. You fold, we gotta see your cards. Them’s the rules.”
“Applejack, darling. He’s a guest! This is most—”
“I don’t care. There’s been something fishy goin’ on here, and it ain’t Spike’s breath.”
Something shattered inside him at the accusation. In the taverns and cardhouses of Prance, it would have been the trigger for a rousing brawl, complete with broken furnishings and a shattered window for a rapid escape. His horn commanded a powerful magical field, both strong enough to levitate the stone of a heavy statue and delicate enough to peel cards off the bottom of a deck. Applejack fought with the rose-colored aura around the cards briefly until they flipped over on their own accord.
“Well I’ll be. Four tens. That’s a darned good hoof to be folding on there. Fluttershy, what do you have?”
With an almost inaudible sigh, she put her cards down, revealing three eights.
“You’ve been cheatin’!”
Fluttershy’s voice was a high squeak. “NoIhaven’t!”
“Not you! Fancy boy here.” The blonde placed one heavily muscled hoof on the table and leaned towards him. “Just what in tarnation do you have to say for yourself?”
Words could not squeeze themselves out of Cold Chisel’s throat. Instead, he gathered up the cards and shuffled several times, dealing a full hoof to each of the tense mares at the table.
“Full House,” said Applejack, flipping over her cards. “So, you was cheatin’ then.”
“Straight!” said Rainbow Dash as she flipped hers. “Very straight.”
“Straight flush,” said Rarity tensely. “All diamonds, Princess high. How pretty.”
“Royal Flush,” said Twilight Sparkle after a quick check in the book.
“Ooo, I hope mine are all marshmallows because I love marshmallows if we can get chocolate we can make smores and I know Rarity has chocolate in the refrigerator in the bag labeled ‘Brussel Sprouts’ so Sweetie Belle doesn’t get into it and hey! Why did you flip over my cards!”
“Two pair,” mumbled Cold Chisel.
“And a flush,” said Fluttershy. “All hearts.” She looked up at him with those deep blue eyes. “Why?”
“Because you made me realize money has become all I care about. I have been attaching myself to the rich and powerful like some sort of tick, sucking at their lifeblood and producing meaningless lumps of stone for their meaningless praise. I saw the money in the pot and… I just couldn’t help myself.”
“No, I didn’t mean that,” Fluttershy asked quietly. “I mean why did you fold?”
He slouched in his chair and stared at the cards. “I don’t know.” He carefully levitated them up and shuffled them all together before placing them in the middle of the table and staring at them morosely. “I was all set to betray your friendship. You extended your homes and hearts to me, and in return I was ready to take every bit you had and walk right out of here to the hotel.” He shoved the pile of bits in front of him to the center of the table and got up, gathered his saddlebags, and trudged slowly to the door.
“Wait!” The soft whisper from Fluttershy stopped him cold in his tracks. “You forgot your easel. And you never did a drawing of me.”
“Or me.”
“Or me! Oooo, we should have one with everypony! And we could have muummmph!”
“Mister Chisel, you did say you were going to make a sketch of all of us for your sculpture. And we’re all here.”
He turned around to look at the talented young unicorn with her hoof stuck in Pinkie Pie’s mouth. It seemed an awkward pose for the personal protégé of Princess Celestia, the most powerful ruler in the entire land, a ruler that could break him like a twig or reward him with a mountain of bits.
Walking out now would doom his career forever, but would it be easier to simply turn around and make a token effort? A few sketches. Another misshapen rock. Another lie. All of the accolades he had received from his previous works tasted like ashes in his mouth, but there was something else here. Somewhere deep in his heart. A tiny spark perhaps. Something — different.
“No. I — don’t feel in the mood. Keep the easel, I will never use it again.” The tiny spark flickered and faded as he trudged to the door, only to suddenly flare up like a torch as Rarity spoke.
“Oh, nonsense dear! A handsome stallion like you with six young mares willing to pose? And you were going to leave? I wouldn’t think of it.” Rarity hurried to his side and guided him back into the boutique. “You just stand right here, and I’ll bring you my own chalks and paints. This is my absolute favorite inspiration place. You’ll just love it! We can each stand over there one at a time, and I’ll put up a screen, so you are not distracted. And I‘ll give you all of the measurements from the Gala outfits, including mine. Well, I may have fudged just a tad on the waist measurements for mine—”
“Yeah, because of fudge!”
“Pinkie Pie! Well, perhaps a slice or two. And someponies can sit on Pinkie Pie when you are sketching anypony else, so she doesn’t get into the picture.”
It was probably only in Cold Chisel’s imagination that Rarity’s design room felt as if it were spinning below his hooves, even though the building was designed only to look like a carousel. On some other level he could see the six young mares, all battered and tired after fighting through a terrifying forest, trusting in each other as they fought to stop a deadly threat to the entire world. They had not faced their possible deaths attempting to be heroes, or for money, fame, or power. They had done it because it needed to be done. Perhaps that was what made real heroes.
Twilight Sparkle was not merely a student of Princess Celestia. She and her friends had been willing to risk their lives when they attempted to stop Nightmare Moon. And when the young mares had used the Elements to free Princess Luna from her imprisonment, Princess Celestia had immediately gone to her long-lost sister and opened her own heart in friendship. The Princesses and these six young mares had risked their lives for each other, and that experience of friendship had formed a bond between them far stronger than he had ever experienced. The spark in his heart seemed to catch fire at the thought, and burned with an unquenchable happy warmth.
“No. No, I cannot think of drawing you individually. You are friends! If I am to capture your true essence, your je ne sais quoi, then I must draw you as you are. Together.”
“Ooo!” squealed Pinkie. “We’re going to need more cupcakes!”
“I’ll start the coffee,” said Applejack as she headed for the kitchen.
“Let me just tidy up a bit,” said Rarity as the various crumbs and cupcake wrappers began to stuff themselves into the trash.
“This will be just like a sleepover!” exclaimed Twilight Sparkle. “I should go get my book!”
“No!” yelled everypony in response.
* * *
All six of them gathered to see Cold Chisel off on the morning train to Canterlot, including the slightly flatter looking Pinkie Pie. “I still say I should have been in more of the drawings.”
“Oh hush there Pinkie. He just about run Rarity out of paper anyway, and now she’s plum out of pink paint.”
Five weeks later
Cold Chisel mused silently to himself as the train wheezed and coughed into the Ponyville station. It was amazing how a change in perspective altered exactly the same things into totally different experiences. The colors seemed brighter, the fresh country air tingled sharply on the back of his nose, and it was all he could do to keep from skipping like a school colt off the train when it finally stopped. All the colors of the rainbow and then some were represented in the crowd waiting for the train under a “Welcome Cold Chisel” banner, but his experienced eye was able to identify the six mares in a single glance. After all, he had spent nearly all of the last five weeks with the creation of their small-scale stone counterparts.
As much as he wanted to wade out into the crowd and greet each one personally, he had both a responsibility and a present to deliver first, and that required a certain sense of decorum expected from sculptors who had just spent many bits of taxpayer money. So he carefully hid his grin inside while the tarp-covered object was removed from the baggage car and transported to Town Hall. A small portion of the grin was permitted to emerge at the loudly cheering crowd, and he even permitted himself a few waves, particularly to a beautiful yellow pegasus hiding near the back of the crowd.
It took great effort to tuck that grin back inside as the Mayor stepped up to the podium. Still, he only had to appear formal for a little while, and the surprise was going to be well worth it.
“May I have your attention please!” began the Mayor at her podium, looking out across the crowd in front of Town Hall. “Please! Quiet! Thank you everypony.
“It has been a little more than a month since our fair town...”
His mind filtered out the speech without effort. Every politician had a speech for every occasion, but it seemed as if the words “proud” and “honored” now actually meant something. He felt the grin creep back onto his face, and decided to allow it to share in the occasion, but only if it were to keep itself under control.
Originally, all six of the Elements of Harmony were supposed to be up on stage with him, but they had decided this day was to be all his. That was quite nice of them, but that was not going to happen today. It seemed to take forever, but after the Mayor had reached the end of her speech, she finally gave him the signal to whisk up the covering tarp.
Instead of a statue, a low circular object a few hooves thick and with a peculiar pattern on the surface was revealed. Through the murmuring of the crowd, a number of voices could be heard.
“It’s a sundial?”
“What does ‘L'Amitié est Magique’ mean anyway?”
“No, it’s a big wheel, I think.”
“No! IT’S CAKE! Mine!!!” A pink blur launched itself into the air on a trajectory that would have put it square into the center of the giant frosted wheel of cake if not for the purple aura grabbing her tail and stopping her just short of her goal.
“But it’s cake! A huuuuuuuuuggge scrumptious cake! And I want it!”
“That’s right!” said Cold Chisel with a happy grin. He produced a pair of cake slicers, presenting one to the mayor and keeping one for himself.
“The concept art piece that I have been working upon is still back in Canterlot for now. I could have had it brought today, but there was something more important that I want to share with all of you. Thanks to your six friends, I was able to see that my statue will only be a representation of friendship; true friendship exists to be shared and enjoyed with everypony. What better way to do that, than a party! And there’s plenty of cake for everypony, so dig in!”
Forks and paper plates were produced, and slices of cake were loaded onto them as fast as possible to be distributed to the happy crowd. Cold Chisel even put one of the first pieces of cake on a plate and levitated it up to where Twilight was still holding Pinkie Pie still suspended in mid-leap. “And a special thanks to you, Mademoiselle Pie, for your wisdom and insight.”
“Mmmm. This is good!”
* * *
The cake cutting was still going on as Cold Chisel took a brief break, sitting back on the stage and soaking up the happy sounds from the crowd when he heard Twilight Sparkle slipping up behind him.
“So—”
“Before you say another word, young lady,” interrupted Cold Chisel with a mischievous grin. “I want you to know that when completed, your statues in the Royal Gardens will be the most beautiful creations present. I say that only because you six beautiful creatures will be here, in your beautiful town, with all of your friends. As a sculptor, I can only reflect the beauty of this world, not create it as you and your friends do all the time.”
She blushed an adorable shade of pink and smiled. “Why thank you. But I was wondering, whatever happened to the statue you were supposed to make as a concept piece. You did make one, right?”
He beamed with joy and took another bite of cake. “Of course! What do you think paid for this delicious cake? I completed the scale model statues last week, but the combined work was not delivered at that time so I could make the matching cakes to go with it, a large one for here and a somewhat smaller one for the Royal Sisters.”
“Well, that’s nice to hear. Will you present the completed piece to Princess Celestia and Princess Luna when you get back to Canterlot?”
His smile grew even broader. “Oh, no! I thought it best to have it delivered so the Princesses could open it privately. Combined, I think they are the best work I have ever created so far.”
* * *
Princess Celestia could not help but keep looking at the statues while trying to read the attached note. Cold Chisel had outdone himself far beyond her expectations and any of his previous works, and this was just the concept statue. There was a strange sort of symmetry in the sculpture’s lines that drew her eye back every time she looked away. Each pony seemed to mesh perfectly with the pony next to them in one harmonious group of friends.
All six of the bearers of the Elements of Harmony crafted in colorful stone stood perfectly in reduced scale and exact color, each with their respective Element worn proudly. Applejack and Pinkie Pie in the back, each seemingly glowing with power. Rainbow Dash with her chest out and wings outstretched, Rarity with her beautiful eyes closed in concentration, Fluttershy as delicate as a newborn foal but as strong as steel. And in the center, her faithful student Twilight Sparkle, looking straight ahead with such intensity it seemed as if she would transform her entire body into energy at any moment. The sculptor had done such a good job that when the tarp was removed, Princess Celestia had taken a step back, thinking that her faithful student and her friends were actually standing there. Only smaller.
But what intrigued her now was the circular foundation the statue was sitting on. It was, in a word, different than she had expected, and her nose clued her into the identity of the construction faster than her eyes could read the note. Chocolate. Vanilla. Apples. Nuts. Bananas. Frosting.
Cake!
It took only a moment to use the attached cake cutter on the freshly unwrapped sculpture base, delicately extracting a thick slice that undoubtedly had more calories than a bakery. “Oh, look little sister. Pecans.”
Luna gasped, “And chocolate!”
“And I love what he did with the sprinkles”
“and chocolate!”
“Ooo, is that a seam of strawberry under the icing there?”
“and chocolate!”
“Luna?”
“Yes, Chocolate... I mean Celly?”
A double-sized slice of cake floated over to Luna’s plate, and there was no need for words for many, many pieces.
* * *
Dear Princess Celestia,
Tonight I learned that when ponies try too hard to be something that other ponies want them to be, they can forget who they really are inside. And when that happens, it really helps to have friends so they can help you see what you did wrong and how to make it better.
Your faithful student,
Twilight Sparkle
PS: I have some new card tricks to show you on my next visit.
