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// The pony that could embellish the world 
// Story: To embellish the world 
// by TwiwnB 
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The world is a beautiful place.

Let me rephrase that: the world is a very beautiful place.

...

Now, of course, there are mosquitos, the heat of the summer might be a little difficult to endure and the wind can give you a headache or you can just feel forced to enjoy the nature while you don’t really get it to begin with.
That was Rarity’s case. 

She was wandering through the fields and hills around Ponyville, like she would every Sunday, as she was convinced it was her duty as a true lady. After a while, she had told herself it was necessary for her creativity, even if it actually wasn’t. To be honest, it was only giving her a discussion subject with other high class unicorns that, just like her, would go each and every Sunday for a weekly stroll through a nature they had no real affinity with.

It wasn’t really hypocritical. Just very silly, as things are when you try to create something more than what really is.

At least it was almost over. She knew it because she could see the apple orchards of Sweet Apple Acres from the top of the hill where she was. It was about time too, as she was about to begin to sweat.
She decided to make a little pause to recover composure. Doing so, she instinctively let her look wander around. She could see the fields of high grass that she had heard would be transformed into hay somehow. It was green. She didn’t really care about those fields, they were kind of boring.
There were the orchards in the distance, with their green and red apples as so many tiny dots on the trees. It was sort of chaotic in a bad way. The trees weren’t aligned, or arranged in a good and original pattern. There were just trees, only there to bear fruits and then be forgotten.
Trees were boring too.

Rarity sighed. At least she would have something to complain about at the next meeting. The idea of the cup of very tasteful tea and the very delicate napkins were making her heart feel a little lighter.

Everything around her was just boring. Even the stallion painting on her right.

Because there was a stallion painting on her right.

Rarity emerged from her contemplative mindset. At first she thought about making sure she was looking the best she could as she usually would when there was somepony around. Then, curiosity took over and she came a little closer to see what it was all about.

“Excuse me, dear sir, my name is Rarity.” she began by presenting herself as one should always do.

But her words ceased there. Her eyes had lay down on the paintings and couldn’t go off them. The sun shut off, all lights went out, and then the world seemed to reboot around Rarity, with more colors, more intoxicating scents, more joy and life everywhere, from the birds in the sky to under the smallest of rock.

“Oh, please excuse me, I hadn’t notice you were there. My name is Nimble Brush. How do you do?”

The sounds around Rarity’s ears were like a giant and melodic symphony, mixing the chants of the animals and the wind through the branches, the flow of the river and the words of a pony. The unicorn felt like she was about to faint out of pleasure, but her eyes still fixed on the paintings suddenly felt attracted by the pictures and she began to feel both afraid and excited by the impression she was being sucked into them.

“Miss, are you feeling okay?” asked the stallion, having received no answer, and seeing the weird expression of pleasure on Rarity’s face.

Finally the unicorn came out of the paintings and awkwardly looked at the stallion, unable to really know how to react.

“Oh, yes, of course.” She began, hesitating. “I’m quite alright in fact, it’s just… those pictures of yours. They are truly amazing.”

Nimble Brush blushed.

“Thank you miss. It is very kind of you to say that.”

“Kindness has nothing to do with it.” Replied Rarity, almost shocked at the idea the stallion would misunderstand her there. “Those paintings are really wonderful in every possible way. I must say I haven’t seen anything that beautiful for a very long time, if at all. The way you captured the fields and the orchards is incredible.”

And she believed every single word she was saying. Now, after having seen those paintings, she could watch the fields and the orchards in a totally new light. The grass was suddenly showing a new complete palette of green from dark spring green to Paris green, with touches of fern green, forest green and a bit of avocado green, all seemingly flying freely under the soft caress of the wind in a harmonious dance.
The orchards in the distance were like an explosion of red dots, like a firework full of energy and life. All those red dots in the middle of that big amount of green felt like the bright stars in the middle of the big giant sky.

“Miss?” asked Brush, as Rarity had once again let herself slip into the dreaming.

“How do you do that?” she asked him in return, amazed at such talent.

“Do what?” asked the stallion.

“Embellish the world.” Explained Rarity. “How do you achieve to make the world look so much more beautiful?”

“I’m not sure… I don’t know.” Replied Nimble Brush, as he hadn’t really thought about that.

But already, Rarity’s mind was racing through the inevitable conclusion.
At first, she thought she had found the perfect subject of discussion for her future tea meeting. But she quickly realized she had found more than that.
Then, she thought she had found the inspiration for her dresses and she thought of rushing towards her shop and go back to work immediately. Still, it was feeling like there was more than she was imagining there.
At a point, she thought she wanted to buy one of the pictures, and in fact, she wanted to, but it had to be the perfect picture.

And it finally struck her.

“Could you paint something if I were to ask you? Could you embellish it like you did for the rest?” She asked the stallion.

He hesitated.

“I only paint what I see.” He replied.

“That’s even better.” Said Rarity, who was now obsessed with her idea. “So would you accept to paint for me?” she asked with her most charming smile, the one she would always use when trying to get something from a stallion.

Once again, Nimble Brush blushed, even harder than before, and quickly replied:

“Yes, of course I can miss. What is it I should paint?”

“I want you to paint me!” she almost ordered.

This was her plan. Even more, this was her destiny. She ignored the awkward reaction of the painter as he was realizing the situation and began to find out what the best pose would be for her to be painted in.
This was going to be so perfect. Rarity had always tried to look the best she could and had had, in her opinion, quite some success in that field. But now, she had met somepony who could make her even more beautiful than she already was. She would go away with a painting of her as the true goddess looking pony she wanted to be.
Vanity maybe, but it was feeling like an accomplishment.

“You want me to paint you’” asked Nimble Brush again, trying to figure out what he was going to do.

“I would like that very much, yes.” Rarity replied, coming close to him, knowing that she had the power to persuade stallions into doing her bidding. “Please do that for me.” She added with a gentler and nicer voice.

Now Nimble Brush literally looked like a big apple, completely red from the blood pressure, sweating and it was his turn to be about to faint after an outburst of emotions. Still, he hold on to what he knew, which was painting, and decided to do it the best way he could.

“Don’t worry about the result.” Rarity said, trying to comfort the painter as she didn’t want him to fail due to stress. “Just do what you usually do.”

He still seemed a little uneasy, so she added, remembering his own words:

“Just paint what you see.”

She had taken a very suggestive pose saying that, instinctively trying to look marvelous at that moment. Still, those words seemed to inspire Nimble Brush and he began to paint as if he had been struck by a lightning, with a lot of passion and excitement.

Rarity smiled internally as externally. This was her victory. It was going to take some time, a lot of smiling on her part, but once again, she had gained what she wanted. She would become more beautiful.

She began to wait for the miracle to happen.

But after a long while, Rarity began to wonder if Nimble Brush still remembered he was supposed to paint her. He had maybe been looking at her a dozen times in a whole hour and she had changed poses so many times without him even reacting to it. She had almost fallen asleep at some point and still it didn’t seem to matter.
She would have probably getting upset if he hadn’t suddenly almost shouted:

“It’s finished!”

He looked very satisfied of his work and that satisfaction assured Rarity it was a big success. She rushed to his side to look at the masterpiece and time froze to never run again.

“What? Who…?” began to ask Rarity, not knowing if she should be disappointed, furious, sad, happy, confused, or against whom her anger should be headed.

“Don’t you like it?” Nimble Brush asked, suddenly worried by Rarity’s reaction.

No, she didn’t like it. That was something she was certain of. It was her on that painting, she could recognize herself, in fact she had great eyes in that picture, but tired eyes, old eyes, circled with wrinkles. Her whole face was showing the damages of time. She was smiling for some reason on the picture, but Rarity couldn’t find out why. Her mane was pretty well brushed, but not as well as it usually would be. The color of her mane was lighter, under the pressure of grey hairs. Rarity almost suffocated when she realized she was fatter on the picture than in reality. Nimble Brush had even added a foal and a filly around her that were showing, by contrast, how old and tired she was looking.
She definitely didn’t like it, but she didn’t understand either. 

Brush had painted the fields and embellished them. He had painted the apple orchards and embellished them. He had done such a great job. She couldn’t comprehend why he hadn’t embellished her too. Why he had decided to make her look old and tired instead.

She was too confused to tell Brush head on that this wasn’t what she wanted at all. This wasn’t making much sense. In fact, she was beginning to think that he was pranking her, that it was all just a joke, a very insulting joke, and she didn’t want to give him the pleasure to admit she was feeling hurt.

“Oh I do like it.” She said, clearly lying. “It’s… original.”

She thought of adding that she liked the depiction of the mane, but she didn’t find the strength to make that lie too.

“Here, take it, it’s yours.” Nimble Brush said.

“What?” Rarity responded in surprise.

“I’m offering it to you. My vision of you.”

He looked so genuine saying those words that it almost frightened Rarity. If he was making fun of her, then he was a master in manipulation. If he was genuine, then he was the most stupid pony there could be to think she would be pleased by such an insulting painting.
With no way of knowing, she took the picture, thanked him to keep on her polite disguise, then fled as fast as she could back to her home.