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// Scene 1: #SelfCare 
// Story: Post-Processing 
// by Bookish Delight 
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Vignette Valencia savored the blending scents of espresso and tea leaves, while sitting at her usual booth in her usual Starcolts—of which there were twelve in this part of town alone, and which she made sure to rotate between with every visit. 

Why wouldn't she? Starcolts coffeeshops were practically on every street corner these days—or at least, if they weren't now, they threatened to be quite soon. They'd already taken over every inch of nearby Manehattan, not to mention what she saw on her most recent trips to Applewood and Seaddle... oh, forget about it. It was only a matter of time before Canterlot City was swept under completely. 

Or, as Vignette always put it: #CantStopTheUnstoppable.

Not that it was a bad thing as far as she was concerned. It was nice to know that she could always have the same, reliable, consistent drinking experience without having a crazy fan being able to deduce her regular hangouts and thus stalk her. One could never be too careful—online, or offline, for that matter. Her booth was in the back corner, as far away as possible from all of the schlubby, wrinkled-shirt-and-blouse-wearing unsuccessful freelancers with their overpriced laptops that they were surely still making payments on. 

Vignette knew better. All she'd ever needed was her smartphone.

She stared out the window, musing over the rainy weather as she sipped her grande chai latte with vanilla, cinnamon and the slightest hint of extra foam but not too much foam if there was even a chance of overflow she made sure to always file a complaint with that specific barista by name. In Vignette's experience, it was the only way they ever learned.

Perfect poise, legs crossed, pinky outstretched, two cup sleeves to make sure her skin was protected from the elements as she drank her ambrosia. She took an extra-long sugary sip, closed her eyes, and loosed a high-pitched sigh, charitably allowing all present the privilege of basking in the mere language of her unique brand of Valencian ecstasy. 

Life. Truly. Was. Bliss. Once. More.

Which was more than she could say for the week she'd just been through.



Against her better judgment, Vignette unlocked her phone, looking over Canterlot City's local entertainment news and social media feeds, searching for a particular hashtag. Too soon for her tastes, she found it: #EquestriaLand.

Which had been a success... technically? The rides had worked out fine, the fashions and costumes she'd picked out—yes, the designers once under her temporary employ counted, as they'd all been her delegates, so didn't that mean she was ultimately responsible for the fruit of their efforts?—had also worked out fine. 

The park had all worked out fine. 

The opening festivities that she'd headlined herself, only partly of her own volition... less so. 

Which was just as well, seeing as she was no longer affiliated with Equestria Land, as public relations manager or otherwise. It was a mutual decision she and her corporate superiors had come to, after recorded footage of the parade had been analyzed, on-stage dialogue included, and she'd been questioned about it. It turned out that they didn't like her constant shrugs over what happened, even if they were all she'd had to give. 

Every time she tried to remember what she'd done and said back then, the memories were only of someone she... didn't quite like. Yet she could never come up with a reason as to actually why she'd acted the way she had, or how her phone had suddenly turned into seriously a sci-fi teleportation device what

Wait, not sci-fi

Something about magic

Seriously

That was what they were going with sure okay

Vignette sighed, resting her cheek on her palm. 'Magic' was indeed what Rarity and those other girls said had infected Vignette's device, requiring her to buy a new one because of course warranty wasn't going to cover it. Thank heavens for cloud saving so far as her contacts list was concerned. 

That said, she hadn't tried contacting those girls back yet. She'd still been too angry at the time. Angry enough to maybe throw a glass of water in one of her questioning superior's faces a day later. 

Yes. Mutual decision. Still very much their loss.

Still, she'd come out... not badly, all things considered. She'd have to find new work, which wouldn't be too hard given her contact and follower count. The latter had taken a hit, but not by all that much. 

Also, something something extending the hand of true #IRLFriendship being worth more than a thousand followers a pop whatevs— 

Vignette shook her head to shake out the cynicism. That was unfair of her. Rarity and 'Applejack' (only now did the name click for her; the latter certainly had some halfway decent fruit fashion theming going on) had been genuine in their sentiments, from what she could tell. They had to have been, to do what they'd done, to forgive her even in the wake of how Vignette had treated them while she was still Rarity's boss.

But Rarity... that was one. One in a literal million. One to watch. And watch she would. Eventually. Once she got herself back in order.

Vignette Valencia's life was one where millions of people watched her every move—or at least, every move she deemed shareable. She'd bounced back from worse. Now, as then, all she needed to do was rebuild. 

And to do that, she first needed to get home dry. 

As if hearing her thoughts, she heard—then watched—the rain fall harder. Vignette groaned, first grousing at the lousy weather... 

...then brightening with an idea.