“You're on in thirty seconds, Fleur.”
She had heard that before. She had heard it many times before, in fact, from many different ponies, both from mare and stallion, from young and old, from voices tinged with the dialects of a hundred different cities. So too had she felt the chafing embrace of an ornate, overdesigned gown, like the one that currently clung to her shoulders, one that would undoubtedly be featured on the front page of at least a dozen fashion magazines before the week was out. She had heard the din of the crowd rising and falling as they were treated to the sight of a panoply of poised ponies, those sumptuous soldiers parading before them, yearning for their approval. She had heard the music, she had heard the barking of stage managers, and she had heard the nervous fidgeting of the mares waiting behind her, each of them busy swallowing the last of their fears in preparation for what came next.
Not her though.
She stood still, statuesque in more ways than one, the only movement of her shapely, alabaster form being the gentle, rhythmic swelling of her chest as she breathed. For her, there was nothing, not the fears, nor the noises, nor the feel of fabric, not even the sight of the curtain hanging mere inches before her face. She was an island of calm in a sea of sensation, the stormy waters washing over her, but leaving her unscathed, just as they always had. Just as she had always done, she allowed it all to pass her by. Just as she had always done, she closed her eyes, withdrawing into a world of her own where neither noise nor touch could reach her. There was nothing there in that silence, that still, perfect calm, nothing but her and that single moment, just as always.
She could see that moment; she could see it clearly before her sightless eyes, see it play out, just as it always had. She could see the curtain drawn back, and see the flood of light that poured through the crack. She could hear the muffled roar of the audience grow sharp and clear as the heavy fabric was removed, the noise swelling at the sight of the movement. She felt her toned muscles spring to life, stretching and contracting beneath her flawless skin, slowly propelling her forward. She felt the dress sway to and fro with every measured step, heard the dull clack of her polished shoes on the hard floor.
As she passed through the curtain, stepping out onto the runway on the other side, she felt the oppressive heat of the stage lights overhead, and heard the rising tide of vocalizations from the ponies before her. She couldn't see them, as usual. Beyond the edges of that brightly lit stage extended a sea of inky blackness of unknown breadth and depth. She knew, of course, that they were out there, waiting for her, watching her. Designers, photographers, corporate giants, maybe even a princess or two could be found within that expanse. Celebrities they were, stars that shone their brilliant light across Equestria for all to bask in.
Stars whose brilliance was swallowed up by that darkness.
Those were not the stars that compelled her forward; it was not their radiance that guided her step. Instead, she was blessed with the sight of lights a thousand times more dazzling than any of them. A whole night sky's worth of flashing stars permeated that darkness, the light of each one appearing, then disappearing again just as quickly. The cacophony of clicking that accompanied that sparkling blended together into one, continuous stream of sound that passed over her as harmlessly as everything else. For her, there was nothing but those flickering lights, each one of those stars brighter than any the heavens themselves could have boasted. In that moment, those stars were her world, the only thing to permeate her self-imposed sensory isolation.
With a quartet of elegant hoofsteps, she rushed forward to meet her stars. They were hers, after all. They shone for her, and for her alone. The sight of her might have belonged to the faceless, empty blackness that oohed and awwed in her direction, but the sight of those stars was hers, a sight that only she was in a position to appreciate the full majesty of. As she continued down the runway, they surrounded her, in front and rear, on left and right, above and below, enveloping her completely. By the time she had reached the end, every corner of her vision was filled with those dazzling lights that shone out to her though the darkness.
Her lovely body instinctively shifted into a pose, one carefully choreographed to accentuate the garment she wore. The thunder of applause that followed was muffled by her own concentration, her own unbreakable focus on her stars. Those lights flashed faster as she stood there, drinking in their presence. A hundred points of illumination shone their light onto her and onto the shimmering, glittering fabric wrapped around her body. That light reflected off of her, making the mare dazzle from neck to hoof. She could feel that light radiating off of her, feel that energy, feel that indescribable warmth filling her entire being.
She was one of them. She was one of those stars.
There was no other feeling in the world quite like it. There was nothing that compared to the high that came from standing amongst the stars themselves as an equal. How many other ponies could say that they had done that, stood amongst those lights without fear, without reservation? Who but her could say that they had truly lost themselves in their brilliant presence, forgetting all else in the world, just to revel in that one, perfect moment? She knew of no one. That didn't matter though; that star was never left wanting for company. She was never without the warm, familiar touch of her companions for very long.
“You're on in five, Fleur.”
She opened her eyes, staring at the curtain before her. A small smile appeared on her lips as the curtain was drawn back, and she rushed to take her place amongst the stars, just as she had done so many times before.
