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// Touch-Mare Telecare 
// Story: Book 1 - The Behemoth came to Canterlot 
// by Equimorto 
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The physical scars were mostly gone, barely visible traces she only noticed because she knew where to look and easily covered by a touch of make-up. The mental ones would take a while longer to heal, but a smile was enough to hide them all. She had lots of practise in that, and she'd dealt with worse.
Celestia admired herself in the mirror. No. Celestia looked at herself in the mirror. Admiring wasn't really what was going on. Much as she wished to say it also wasn't something she did with herself, she knew that much wasn't true. She had done so, at various times in her life, moments she did not look back on fondly. More often, it was something others did with her, and there was a sizeable chance the same would happen as soon as she walked out of the room. But, for the moment, it was just her, and she was just looking at herself.
Her short mane had ended up looking every bit as nice as she'd known it would be made to. She could not call herself displeased with that fact, it would be nonsensical, but she still wished she'd gotten to work on it herself instead. It reached maybe a third of the way down her neck, wavy and vibrant, almost like a flower upside-down and cut in half. She couldn't remember for sure the last time she'd had a mane that short. Her tail was far less impressive, there was only so much that could be done there, but it was still more than passable and at least it still covered the entirety of her actual bone-having tail.
She looked down at the splotch on her breast. It had changed shape again. It vaguely resembled a crescent, at least on the inside, though on the outside it was more bubbly and stain-like. Somewhat like the mark on Luna's behind, actually. It was like a drop of ink over her white coat, like someone had used her body as a canvas for a fancy, shifting art piece. As much she she didn't like the things it specifically reminded her of at that moment, she felt she actually kind of liked it. Both for what it represented, and in general the way it looked. She'd been told she looked weird without her regalia on, and that happened to fill in that space nicely.
She sighed, and stepped away from the mirror. She walked towards the small table by the window, hooves stepping softly over the rug on the crystal floor, and looked at the flowers there in their pot. It was a simple pot. Either eggshell white, or faded to the point whatever else had been on it was no longer visible. The edge of the top was trimmed with gold though. It looked nice, and so did the flowers. Celestia wondered how long they would last, and if there were any enchantments put on them or the water to make them last longer.