A soothing breeze ruffled Rough Sketch's mane as he swayed back and forth on the wooden porch swing, a blank sketch book laying unattended on his lap. It'd been two days since his failed suicide attempt and subsequent rescue by the mysterious Sasamare, aka Sassie, who swore to keep a close eye on him and to try to change his melancholic viewpoint. So far, she'd adhered to that first part, watching every move he made no matter how mundane. He was beginning to regret their arrangement but a deal was a deal and his parents raised him to always keep his word. Plus, the kelpie still terrified him somewhat. Seriously, does that mare even sleep?
The windchimes hanging above his head cling-tinged as the wind made another pass. Everything was so peaceful, a startling departure from the noise and clamor of Baltimare. He could see why ponies visited locations such as these to get away from it all, which was funny considering how he came here to do just that on a more permanent basis. Something slowly broke the surface of the lake's surface like a submarine's periscope and it didn't take binoculars to see that it was Sassie. The kelpie rolled onto her back and began to lazily paddle around, never taking her eyes off of him.
Shifting in his seat, Rough Sketch stared ahead at the lake and the semiaquatic figure, his mind churning and pumping with inspiration. His pencil flew to his sketch book, first creating the basic outline for its subject before moving onto shading. Slowly but surely, the picture began to form and a surge of adrenaline coursed through his veins. Sweat gathered on his brow, his hoof flying across the page. He hadn't experienced a tsunami of inspiration like this in months. He felt so alive!
"Whit ur ye drawin’?"
Flinging his sketchbook aside, Rough Sketch rolled off of the bench, tumbled down the steps and landed on the ground. Shaking his head, he smacked some dirt off of his muzzle and stared up at the intruder. It'd seemed that he was so engrossed in his task that he hadn't noticed Sassie swimming to shore or trotting up beside him.
"Sorry abit ‘at, Sketchy. Ur ye alrecht? Yer as white as snaw!" The nickname was one that he'd grown up with but hearing it come out of Sassie's mouth made it seem as though he was hearing it for the first time. Maybe it was the accent, which while seemingly rough and unrefined, was actually quite pleasant to the ear and even cute at times.
"I'm okay. I just didn't hear you coming, that's all." Rough Sketch brushed off his notebook and held it up for Sassie's inspection. He was used to criticism but was bizarrely terrified of her opinion. It could be because she saved his life and he felt as though he had to do something to show his appreciation. That or the residual unease that reared its ugly head still had a slight hold over him. Sassie told him that while the stories of drownings were exaggerated, she had actually killed a few ponies here and there in the past century and this alone made his skin crawl whenever she was near.
"Is ‘at me? Och waw, ‘at is terrific!" Sassie's face lit up like a Hearth's Warming tree and Rough Sketch took a moment to study her. Ever since he was a colt, he'd made a habit of scrutinizing other ponies' faces and his training as an artist only made it sharper. She possessed long eyelashes with high-set cheekbones and he could see barely perceivable freckles that dotted her cheeks and muzzle. Amazingly, her features were perfectly symmetrical, which was a rarity for anypony.
For whatever reason, Rough Sketch found himself blushing. "Thank you and I'm glad you like it."
"Loch it? Ah loove it! " Sassie hummed a bit as she cocked her head and Rough Sketch couldn't help but notice how nice a smile she had. "Ah can see wa ye dae thes fur a livin’."
Rough Sketch took a seat back on the porch swing. "Well, I've honestly been in a creative slump ever since Rowan's death. Before I couldn't even draw a stick figure but here I am." An idea popped into his head. "Have you ever sat for an artist before?"
Sassie's brow crumpled up in thought. "Nae…I dornt hink sae. Nae."
"Then would you mind doing it for me?"
"Eh’d be honored an’ delighted tae dae sae," she nodded and made for the door, swinging it open and disappearing inside. "Weel? Arenae ye comin’ ur nae?"
Shaking his head, Rough Sketch smirked before following the kelpie inside.
"Hoo much longer is thes gonnae tak’?"
Sassie wasn't used to staying still for so long. Her continued survival predicated on constant motion, keeping out of sight from curious vacationers and nature lovers. And yet, she found herself oddly soothed by the pegasus' presence, a reminder of her isolated lifestyle and humdrum existence. The light scratching of pencil on paper broke the monotony and a light blush peppered her cheeks as Rough Sketch's eyes roamed over her body, though she had to remind herself that this was solely as a means to express his creativity. Still, it was nice to be paid attention to again.
Again? When was anypony payin' attention tae me affair?
One of the worst parts of being the resident guardian of the lake was her inability to remember anything about her previous life, if she'd even had one at all. Every now and then, Sassie experienced a moment of déjà vu, a random sensation of familiarity but it frustratingly brought with it no actual memories. So there she was, left frustrated beyond belief and filled with an indescribable anger and sorrow for what she'd lost and would never find. She was Sasamare the Kelpie and that was all she knew and would know.
"Just about. And we're...done!" Flicking his wrist to ease the soreness, Rough Sketch turned the easel around. "So...what do you think?"
Sassie could feel her breath being caught in her chest. Every line, every strand of mane was painstakingly captured on paper, even down to the shimmer of her eyes. "Yoo’ve captured mah face saw perfectly ‘at it’s loch lookin’ intae a mirrur!" She'd seen her reflection in the lake's surface and in the glass of windows but this was like looking at a stranger. "Ah didne know ‘at Ah was sae...pretty."
"I'd say beautiful."
Her head snapped up to meet his gaze but he was already putting his art supplies away. Was Sassie going mad? She could've sworn that she'd heard that but she chalked it up to wishful thinking. Besides, who'd think that she was attractive anyway? Hopping off of the stool, she stretched her hindlegs and sighed in relief as the muscles cracked and popped.
Sliding his pencil box into his bag, Rough Sketch stopped to give Sassie a cursory glance as she stretched and flexed her limbs. There was so much that he didn't know about the mysterious water horse. He knew that she was Trottish and at least one hundred years old but that was the extent of his knowledge. "Hey Sassie?" The mare paused and looked at him curiously. "Where did you come from? If you don't mind my asking."
He watched her turn away almost shamefully. "Ah cannae remember. Ah doobt Ah ever knew." Before he could ask anymore questions, she gave him a quick goodbye and left.