//------------------------------// // Chapter 8 // Story: Finding Inspiration // by bahatumay //------------------------------// Green Hooves reared up on her hind legs and leaned on the poster, holding it against the wall. She looked over her shoulder at Happy Trails. She shook her head. “Not quite even. The left side needs to come up a bit more.” Greenie adjusted the poster accordingly. Happy Trails pursed her lips, then nodded, satisfied; and Greenie pushed in the tacks. Wind Shear’s smiling face looked back down at them. In contrast, Wind Shear’s irritated face wandered up behind them. “Ugh,” he grumbled, casting a narrow glare at it. “So tacky. I hate pictures of me. Last time, the promo material was just my cutie mark.” “I think it's nice,” Happy Trails said positively. “It shows that they think you're hot stuff, a good investment; that book seven is going to fly off the shelves and they've got high hopes for the future. And it was good, wasn't it?” Green Hooves, who had received one of the advance copies, nodded eagerly. Apparently, she'd stayed up all night reading it, and had not stopped until she'd finished it. Unfortunately, she kept falling asleep at work the next morning, culminating in her passing out face-first in the blueberry pancake batter and not waking up until Happy rushed in freaking out because she smelled something burning. Wind Shear huffed. He leaned in to Green Hooves and whispered his main complaint. “That's great and all; but look at my smile. From far away I look fine, but up close I look like I'm constipated.” She cracked up laughing, silent as she usually was even as she had to cover her face. “I still can't believe you wanted to hold a release party here,” Happy Trails said, changing the subject as she adjusted a smaller poster on an easel. “I mean, I'm sure they have bigger ones planned in like Canterlot, or Cloudsdale-” she gestured vaguely at his wings, “-or even Ponyville. I hear they have this giant castle there that would be a great location for a release party.” “Yeah, probably; but this is my home now,” he said with a smile. “Honestly, this one probably won't be that big.” “Don't tell the mayor that,” Happy Trails whispered. “She put in a big order of sugar cookies shaped like Creme Brûlée’s cutie mark, and she's planning on giving them away at the party. The dough is chilling as we speak.” Wind Shear laughed. “Hope she won't be too disappointed.” “Hopefully not! But everypony else is pretty excited, too, hoping for a little business boost. Old Yellow has been setting out the other books in the series in his bookstore, Quick Service was chopping up potatoes like it was going out of style this morning, and Buttered bought the last of Jenny’s daisies. Beat me to it. Sad we won't be getting any more, though.” She jerked her head towards the menu, where the daisy sandwiches were still prominently featured. “I've got enough left for about five sandwiches—four, if you want one—but I'm not looking forward to eighty-sixing it.” Wind Shear squinted. The flower-selling hinny had been here forever. She was possibly the only one here older than the town itself. “Is she ok?” “Oh, yeah, she's fine. She’s retiring, that's all. Sold all her stock, not getting any more. I heard she's going to go live by the seashore.” “And I bet you're hoping to sell out of rooms, huh?” She grinned. “I can neither confirm nor deny that,” she said. “Well, good luck.” He rolled his neck out. “Should be fun!” Wind Shear closed the door behind him and slumped down against it. He exhaled slowly. Wow. Just… wow. That had been some party. Probably the biggest party this town had ever seen. The hotel had been stuffed full of ponies, his wrist ached from all the signing he'd done, he'd eaten more sugar cookies than could possibly be healthy, and he was pretty sure the mayor had proposed to him. And he was pretty sure he'd be sleeping through the entire next day to make up for it. But sleep quickly fled from his eyes as he realized his house was not empty. “Sounds like there was a pretty big party in town,” Morning Glory said airily, leaning back in her chair. She brushed a snake under its chin, as if this conversation were second in her mind. “You have anything to do with that?” “Kinda,” he said, pushing himself up. “Wrote a book, a couple ponies liked it. Released it today. Sold all three hundred copies they shipped here. Probably more than that in other places. Canterlot got two thousand copies.” “Huh.” She dropped her chair to the ground. “Some ponies will buy anything.” She picked up the copy from on the table. “This it?” “Yeah! Yeah, that's, uh, your copy, actually.” She looked at it. “Huh,” she said again. “How generous.” He smiled. He'd been waiting for this. “It's really yours. It's got your name on it and everything. Look inside the front cover.” She hadn't expected that. Her brow furrowed curiously, she opened the page. Even the snakes seemed interested. Dedicated to Morning Glory, who helped me find the passion I'd lost. She stared blankly at the page, shocked. Maybe it was just being tired from the long day. Maybe it was something else. But Wind Shear came up behind her and gave her a gentle nuzzle against her cheek. And he may have brushed his lips against her cheek, as well. She took a step back, startled, stepping off of the chair. Her snakes swarmed around her head, as if falling all over themselves in confusion. Wind Shear hesitated. Perhaps that had been too forward? Then she stepped forward. “That all you want?” she asked, her voice slightly breathy. “Let me… return the favor.” She drew closer, breathing a bit harder, lips puckering ever so slightly… And then with a burst of speed, she leaned forward and bit him on the neck, not hard enough to injure but hard enough to draw blood. She stepped back, a twisted smile on her face, eagerly awaiting his reaction. Wind Shear gently rubbed at where she'd bitten him. That… was not unpleasant. It had stung, yes; but not in a bad way. He almost wanted her to do it again. It was always awkward, learning these things about oneself. He met her eyes and smiled a nervous half-smile. She blinked. Her snakes came near her face, tongues flicking rapidly as they tried to make sense of whatever was confusing her so badly. She had clearly been expecting a different reaction, and she shuffled uncomfortably. “Ok. So I'll just… go, then,” she said. “And, uh, take this with me.” She picked up the book, tucked it under her cloak, and awkwardly sidled out of his house. “Good night,” Wind Shear called after her. “Yeah, whatever,” she called back. It may have just been a trick of the light, but… Was she shaking her hips at him? He shook his head and shut the door. It had been a long night.