Translucence
By: The Grey Pegasus
Ramblings of a Pegasus
One solitary pegasus lay in the confines of her room in her Trottingham home. It was a humble abode. Not too small, but not large either. Just the perfect size. Looking out the window, Luna's stars and moon were up, illuminating the landscape. The night had risen up just an hour ago. The pegasus mare suddenly had an image of the glorious Canterlot mountain range.
'One day... one day, I'll paint a picture of that. A picture of the Canterlot Mountains at night. I'll go up there and experience it to the fullest.'
Sure, she could just paint mountains and call it that, but there was something special about actually being there. To enjoy Luna's night, up high above the denser cloud layers. She remembered reading about an observatory being on top of one of those mountain peaks.
'A job in which one looks at the night sky, and examines all the stars. It must be exhilarating. And yet Princess Luna thought no one admired her night. How... How could she forget those that admired it as art, as a time to get away from the rush of life, as their life dedication?'
Alas, the pegasus was not to stay in her room for long. She longed to create. Plans to paint such a picture were exciting, but it was just that–a plan. No details, no specifics. Nothing else.
'Perhaps I'll just lie my head down for a little bit. Then I'll get to work on something.'
The mare laid down on her bed, planning to just give her head a short break. However, her tired mind had other plans. Unknown to herself, she fell asleep.
<<+>>
Thunder boomed outside the home, rousing the pegasus from her slumber.
'Oh my! I fell asleep. Well, nothing I can do about that now. At least my head feels better now.'
She stood up off the bed. Still having lingering traces of sleep, the pegasus forced herself to walk towards the door.
'Perhaps I should take a walk around the house. Yes, that might help.'
The mare found a candle and lit it, before exiting the room. In all truth, the mare was in a state of disappointment. The urge to express her ideas was ever-present, but she could never manifest it physically. It pained her that her ideas would not take form. She would work on a project, then suddenly stop. It was like writer's block, except for an artist. Just halting progress dead in its tracks.
The mare passed by a nice large window that spanned an entire hallway wall, from floor to ceiling. Outside was the cityscape of Trottingham, her hometown. During her walk, she had heard all types of rain outside her house; from large heavy raindrops that pounded against the surface it hit, to a spray of drizzles when the wind roared. As she reached the window, she noticed that the storm had reduced to a slow patter outside. The pegasus looked towards Trottingham. She could see it, but the window had fogged from the cool air outside, and the lights emitted by the town were but a blur, and features were barely discernable from each other.
Yet in the darkness, the blurry city was not the only thing she saw. Putting the candle down, in the dark window, a white pegasus with ice blue eyes and pink mane looked back at her.
'Crystal Chroma. The pegasus mare that is constantly one thing and another.'
Crystal kept looking at her reflection, as if it had a solution to her mind that would not stop running.
'That mane. Loosely combed. Maybe half a minute, a minute's worth of work and no more in the mornings. An artist by trade, but does not care for polishing herself.'
Strange. Only then, during her closer self-inspection, did she realize that, out of her five years of working as an artist, her last self-portrait was three years ago.
'To make a representation of oneself. Maybe I should do a new one. Myself as the subject of a piece of art. I'll mull over it some more.'
And there, yet another idea she put on her plate of things to do. As she moved on to the staircase, she wondered if she should just take all those loose scraps of ideas and mash as many of them as she could into a single work. Of course, she'd have to pick which of them to use, so that the work would still be coherent.
As she walked around the first floor, her largest room there was taken up by her gallery. Contained in said room was all types of art– painted canvases, sculpted rock, carved wood, and many others. If one were to look around, there were a couple notable paintings, such as a picture of the pegasus Rainbow Dash performing a Sonic Rainboom. A room of achievements, containing some of her best.
'And the other ones of my best works are somewhere else, having paid for stands and mountings in this room. Canterlot never sells frames cheaply.'
Crystal lightly chuckled at that thought. This room reflected her work, one way or another. However, she wasn't overly-wealthy as those Canterlot ponies, and not even one of the richest in Trottingham. It was only a few select rooms that looked as furbished as the gallery; all others appeared standard and ordinary. Crystal turned back out of the room and headed towards the basement, where her entire work area was located.
Once downstairs, Crystal looked around and tried to find something to do. There were a couple incomplete pieces of art.
'That painting is supposed to be some otherworldly dream. It has some amusing elements to it, actually. If only I actually had that dream. It would be amazing.'
The picture in question was, in fact, inspired by the idea of a dream. She looked at the unfinished picture. Crystal wanted to finish it, but she was stuck on one portion. Of course, she could always skip over that and work on another area, but it felt like a bridge that needed to be crossed first. She shifted her views to another painting in the works.
'A jungle. A rainforest, maybe. But it sure has a lot of green, brown, and a lot of rain. I can almost feel the mud on my hooves and the humid weather in that scene.'
Crystal liked that particular scene. It was outdoors, and it felt adventurous. The pegasus liked the outdoors as much as the indoor atmosphere. It was nice to feel the fresh air of nature, and even more so as a pegasus. As an artist, many didn't think of her as an adventurous pony.
'One can't draw inspiration just by staying indoors after all... And I hate it went ponies think I seem fragile. I carry heavy art pieces for Celestia's sake! I'm stronger than some other ponies I know!'
With a huff only she would know about, she looked over to the last work of art with noticeable progress off in a corner. Unlike the others though, the media of choice for this was not paint.
'A sculpture made of ruby, topaz, and quartz. A portrayal of a reading pony. Perhaps 'Fires of Inspiration' would be a good name for it... I know I need something to kindle my flames of inspiration...'
What did these all have in common? They were incomplete, and her mind refused to continue. Her flow of thought was either blocked or heavily slowed down when she attempted to work on it. Admittedly, it was somewhat discouraging.
'Like a stream clogged by weeds and rocks. Only time will tell if it will be naturally cleared. Or I can try and do something about it. Should I try working on something? I know it will happen again if I try going back to them again. Maybe I should start something new... again.'
With an exasperated sigh, she walked over to a desk that was cluttered with organized mess. From it, she grabbed the three most important items to her–a pencil, her sketchbook, and a special hoof-claw that allowed the usage of a foreleg for manipulating objects, much like a dragon's claw.
'This claw... such a marvelous device. Were it not for the special magical conductive properties of thaumium, I'd never be able to compete with unicorns.'
This small special item, made of the rare metal thaumium, allowed any inherent magic to manipulate the claw with just a thought, as if it was a part of her body. With incredible dexterity granted to her by the claw, Crystal was able to create amazing masterpieces. She found herself reliant on the claw for her works; it was irritating to have to use her mouth or not-as-reliable wings to manipulate a pencil or paintbrush. Not that she could not work with those, but it was force of habit.
'Nothing left down here to do... and I'm sure not going to be making any progress with those other works tonight.'
Tools tucked under her wing, Crystal made her way back up to her bedroom. The bed was quite a comfortable spot to think on, despite the temptation to use it for the intended purpose of sleeping. Reaching her destination, she placed the items on the nightstand adjacent to the bed. As she did so, she noticed an eye-catching newspaper placed on it.
'The Crystal Kingdom. I've heard of it, but only to a very little extent. I wonder what's there.'
She considered the prospect some more, and at the same time, her thoughts drifted over to her work.
'I know what's there–inspiration. New things. Amazing new things I could work with... If only the borders were open... Dear Celestia is my mind scattered. Focused, incoherent, I don't know what I am. Rambling from one thing to another. Concentration. I have it, I lack it, and everywhere in between.'
Setting down on the mattress, she slipped the hoof-claw on and opened up the sketchbook. She lay down comfortably in a position to let ideas flow. Browsing through the pages, there were many quick sketches– ideas that came and might be used later.
'Hmm... more ideas on that historical place... an imaginary future world... Royal Guards... some random things about the Equestrian Postal Service... roadsigns?... a random scene with ponies talking... this oddity of a amalgamation of random surreal landscapes... Wow, I have so many ideas, yet I can't see any farther than a simple outline and basic description.'
Crystal continued laying down in her pool of frustration. Tapping the pointed ends of the claw against her head, she searched for ideas. Any idea. Anything to break the stalemate of her progress. She didn't care if it was an insignificant idea. Just something simple she could finish and feel accomplished.
'Cards... aces of spades? What? No... that what would I do with those? Statues using large crystals? Ha. If only it would end up in the Canterlot Gardens. For the Princesses to see every day. Yes.' "Of course. No, I want a feasible idea. Come on, give me something... Have a really started talking out loud? Ah, no matter. Eccentric, reserved, talking out loud is bound to happen. *Sigh* Anything to put down on paper..."
The pegasus allowed her mind to flow freely. In her mindscape, she was walking in a forest. Ideas ran, or, rather, flew rampant around the forest, represented by small, pesky imaginary birds and butterflies. Catch one, and see where it leads her. Then, it happened. Her mind caught an idea just as it was passing by.
Crystal knew not why, but she followed her instincts. There was a feeling about this one. It was simple, and easily able to be finished. It must be finished. Crystal poured her emotions into the mental picture, and started drawing it out. Her feelings of thoughtfullness. The frustration of not being able to create after making many others before. She found herself drawing a pegasus... a grey pegasus, still on a cloud, looking up and thinking in the dead of the night.
