//------------------------------//
// Ponies Dreaming 
// Story: Sundew's Blank Flank 
// by TheSundewOrder 
//------------------------------//

	I gulped.
“My secret?”
Twilight was grinning now. I watched as her horn illuminated the the large door into my room closed behind her. She trotted casually up to the large bed, settled herself and proceeded to eye me thoughtfully. I was frozen in place, staring at her, becoming uncomfortably aware of the lack of a mark on my flank. 
Not that she could somehow see through my suit, of course. No way. She was probably talking about something else. Unless she was taunting me. She wouldn’t taunt me. Unless she would.
“My.. my secret, Princess?” I said in a small voice. She raised her eyebrow and I hastily corrected myself, aware of my suddenly inelegant demeanour, “I mean, Twilight.”
“Of course!” she said enthusiastically. She then shook her head, sprang off my bed and approached me, beaming. “How could I not remember?”
Remember?
“Sundew! Sundew Order!” she exclaimed. “We were both in Princess Celestia’s special class!”
“Huh?”
In the face of my disorientation, Twilight bounded around the room as though the floor was on fire. In an unbelievable pace, she began to explain, “That’s right! I knew as soon as I saw those wings in the hall! I have never seen anypony who wasn’t in that class perform that kind of high level magic before! I thought I recognised your name, your colours when we first met —even Celestia hinted at your specialness in her letters… but I didn’t realise until then, when I caught a glimpse of your wings…”
I stared at her, unable to speak. It wasn’t that I was I was shocked, it was just that I was shocked. I hadn’t been expecting… that.
“Granted you were much more experienced than me —I was only a filly when I joined —but I remember you very clearly now…”
At this point she slipped into a pointed silence, staring at me so wide-eyed and with what seemed like awe shining in her dark eyes. She was close as well, the enthusiasm having rendered her breathless, and she looked as though she was about to fall forward. I hastily shuffled back, unsure of how to bring myself back into the situation, and turned away, embarrassed.
And I knew that that was the part where I was supposed to exclaim, “I remember you too!”
But I couldn’t. I mean, I didn’t. Remember her, that is.


=======


The worst thing about moving between several schools, and in such a short period of time, was that I never made or remembered any true friends. I mean, I had friends… in my first, second, maybe even third school. However, I soon gave up. While my friends were graduating from their fields — Literature, Magic, Music —I was still starting over, probably for the third time in two years, unable to celebrate the freedom found in knowing exactly what your future held. 
And by the time that had happened, I had given up on getting to know the ponies I attended classes with. There were two mares and a stallion, I think, in the Arts College. But that was it. I lost touch with the mares, and the stallion… well. That didn’t last too long either. He was nice and all, but I still had a lot to catch up on.


======


“You don’t remember me, do you?”
You’d think I’d remember having studied alongside Celestia’s most loyal student and future Princess of Equestria, but I didn’t. I vaguely remembered a tiny, enthusiastic purple unicorn joining us in my final year at Magic School, but by then I’d become so fed up with my lack of direction that I’d stopped paying attention. 
I stared at Twilight’s slowly fading smile and tried, hard, to remember her. But my memory of the princess seemed to go back only a couple of years, since she exploded onto the map with the return of Luna. Even that was vague, as I hadn’t actually ‘met’ her until this very trip. Only words, rumours, the gossip columns in Canterlot and Manehattan. 
I shook my head, looking down.
When I looked back up, there was a painful disappointment colouring her friendly face. She tried to hide it, shaking her head vigorously and trying to smile again, all the previous excitement having slipped out of her.
“Of course you wouldn’t”, she said quickly. “I was so young and inexperienced, a talented unicorn like yourself wouldn’t have noticed me.”
“Princess…”
“I’m keeping you up”, she said, smiling tensely at me. “I should probably let you rest as, I imagine, you have a long day tomorrow.”
“Actually…”
“I just remembered! Spike and I haven’t finished working on your itinerary. I’ll hand that to you at breakfast, along with the maps and plans of the castle.”
“Twilight.”
“Alright, good night, Sundew! Sleep tight!”
She basically galloped out of my room, magically shutting the huge doors behind her. It echoed around my large, empty room, sending a soft breeze into the fine drapery. The yellow lighting danced, the curtains creating gorgeous shadows along the walls and high ceiling.
Usually, these tiny observations would have enthralled me, prompting me to pull out a paintbrush and sketchbook. That night, however, I found myself having lost all the desire I had had to observed and fall in love with my surroundings. The decline in interest had come so quickly, having started high that morning and dropped dramatically. 
How had this happened?
Head hung low, I trotted to my bed and began magically removing my suit. First the coat, then the pants. As soon as they were folded neatly into my suitcase, I noticed a mirror at the other end of the room. It was a tall mirror, to be used in inspecting one’s self after dressing. I trotted slowly towards this mirror, stopped a couple of feet before it, and stared at my image. Observed my image, carefully, and sighed.
I haven’t actually told you what I look like, have I? Well, let me paint you a picture of my ridiculously unremarkable self.
My flank is orange in colour. A dark orange, almost russet in edges and deep brown in corners. Pale amber colours my hoofs and horn, and a very deep brown shines in my large eyes. In youth, my eyes were smiley —large, enthusiastic, dancing like those of Twilight and Pinkie Pie —but now they were tired, squinted despite the lack of bright lighting in the room. Actually, in that pale lighting, my eyes shone, revealing a surprising hint of crimson.
My mane used to be a bright yellow mop, grown long during my teenage years and falling in front of my eyes. However, once’s I’d settled in Art College and attempted to settle on an identity, I had picked a mane-style that seemed to fit with the general ‘artsy’ vibe of the college. In an unusual fit of spontaneity, I had a mare-friend dread my mane and tail. Then, quite soon afterwords, I had died corresponding locks black. Upon graduating, I cut the then long mane short and made it a bit more presentable, ready to prove my place in Equestria. 
But I kept the dreadlocks. Probably because I still hadn’t —haven’t —grasped a strong sense of identity yet.
Sundew. Sunset had been my mother’s initial pick, and my father had wanted to call me Dawn. Both, I guess, were reaching along the same lines. I have no idea how they had landed on Sundew, but I’m glad that’s my name. I’ve always felt unique with it. Connected, yet not too obviously, to the morning. It’s my favourite time of the day.

I turned away from the mirror, catching a glimpse of my bare plot. I could say that I’d gotten over the sight of my bare flank by then, but that was no excuse for my hesitating. I stared at it, not quite registering the emotion that was slowly boiling at the pit of my stomach.
Anger? Embarrassment? The disorientation that had bubbled up in me during my filly years? The jealousy that had followed me from schools to colleges to academies?
There was no expression on my face. Just as blank as my bright orange flank.
Several minutes later, I turned and trotted towards the large bed that had been provided for me. I slipped between the warm colours and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep almost immediately.


======


Some ponies get their cutie marks for things that seem completely unrelated to talent, profession or anything legible at all. For example, a friend of mine during my filly years —I think his name was 
Bumblebee or something —got a cloud for a cutie mark. I mean, this would have been completely understandable if he’d been a pegasus, since weather was their default profession. Bumble, however, was a conventional earth pony with no dreams that seemed to involved clouds. I’m not too sure what he went on to do, but all I know is that that pony gave me so much hope that it fuelled me for the next five years.
I developed this idea that, perhaps, my cutie mark wouldn’t be connected to any physical talent that I so yearned to acquire. Instead, it might come to reflect a personality trait, an overbearing feature, an item that means something to me, a puzzle to be solved in the future… etc. 
I even drew up symbols and forms that my cutie mark might take. The majority of them involved the sun, and some trinkets of my filly-hood. From treasured toys to my favourite foods to obscure natural elements that I worshiped. I think that was my first ever sketchbook.
Five years passed. Nothing came. My sketchbook somehow disappeared in the mess of rebellion and shame that came afterwards, and it was soon time to change schools.