Nova Sketches had artist's block.
And it wasn't helping him sleep.
He tossed and turned, unable to shut off his thought process. The deadline for the painting was only a week away, yet he had no inspiration. Nova had walked around in the plaza of Canterlot earlier that afternoon, hoping something would spark his interest. But nothing did. Just the snobby ponies sitting at their fancy little tables in their expensive gowns and tuxedos, but that wasn't his cup of tea. He liked vibrant. Abstract. Fantasy. Anything but real life.
Art was his getaway from the busy Canterlot hustle. Every time he tried to get into society, his anxieties would shoot through the roof. He had his own little cluster of friends, and outside of that, Nova just didn't feel right. That's why he took to the arts, where he could be in a secluded little corner, expressing his feelings without having to talk.
But right now, he couldn't even feel secure. An artist with no ideas- he couldn't imagine living the rest of his life like that. It wasn't natural. Or even possible, for that matter.
"Celestia help me," he mumbled, tugging at his multi-hued purple mane. "I want to be able to sleep at night without pulling my mane out!" Nova sighed and took deep breaths, still trying to relax himself. The moon shone on his pastel blue coat. At least the sky is calm, full of its serene twinkling lights and deep blues, he thought. He found himself staring more intently at it, for the first time taking in the beauty of the night. He'd never noticed it before. It was... calming.
He began to drift off, eyes closing slowly. As he fell asleep, he noticed something strange. A disturbance in his mind.
It felt as if someone were literally walking into his conscious.