Celestia curled her slim, creamy legss around the nape of the handsome stranger's neck; simultaneously drinking in the strong musky- salty scent--- a strange combination yet so intoxicating.
Sweet and bitter--- a perfect combination.
She smirked, continuing to stare into the sea of intense- yet enticing Caribbean blue eyes.
Parting her lips to moisten them with her tongue, a question formed in her hazy mind.
"What's your name?" The dazzling princess questioned curiously, cocking her head to the side, staring into the deep vortex-blue of his eyes as they swayed side to side to the mesmerizing beautiful orchestra that was being played; lost in oblivion to their own world. Even in her slightly intoxicated state, she could detect the emotion in the music. It was so heartfelt, almost heart breaking. It was played elegantly, the notes whispering dark secrets of love that had ended in tragedy. It was a story in another form of art.
The stranger's lips curled up into a smirk. It was then that her purple almost violet, yet innocent looking gaze slowly averted down to the luscious pink of his lips. Sculpted perfectly, their appearance identical to what writer's described, 'Like a Cupid's bow.'
"I'm afraid that's a secret I'll have to keep, darling" She gasped as his calloused hooves unexpectedly tightened slightly around her slim waist; she secretly liked the feel of his hooves around her waist. It's like they molded perfectly well together.
The deep, husky chuckle and sneaky endearment snapped her out of her daze and made her heart skip a beat--- almost like it wanted to jump out of her chest, indicating that he had caught her staring.
A bright crimson blush adorned her pale creamy cheeks. His lips formed into yet another smirk at her innocence.
"You're handsome, you know that?" The dashing stallion chuckled causing the pretty mare to blush even more, the color of her cheeks deepening into a tomato red. Her being drunk made her more daring to voice the thoughts in her mind.
"And you're drunk from champagne" He raised his eyebrows comically with a strange smile on his face. Scrunching her eyebrows in confusion, she pouted.
"These parties are always so boring with all the stupid snotty ponies," she whispered, sighing. If only she hadn't been dragged to the hotel by her only friend. She hated these events with a passion, but she always seemed to still end up here.
In her drunken stupor, she had seemed to forget the argument that had occurred with her over bearing mother; the main cause of her decision to live independently in the first place.
Looking back up, a strange look crossed over the face of the handsome stranger.
He didn't know what had made him want to dance with this mare. He normally went for blonde's--- and passionate nights.
Relationships are what he avoided.
But he couldn't help but be attracted towards her like the pull of a magnet.
Was it her slightly flushed appearance that made her look innocent that intrigued him?
Or was it something else? She seemed like a mystery, just like himself, his libido retorted.
He had to leave before they both made a bad decision.
He couldn't take advantage of her and this wasn't a good idea.
But he couldn't leave a drunken mare alone in this atmosphere. Ponies would snag any opportunity to take advantage of a young mare like herself.
It was too risky.
But he had to leave. Staying was not an option.
Taking his hooves off her slim waist, he stepped back. Ignoring the look of confusion on her face.
Taking her hoof gently into his own, he kissed her ankle gently. His stubble slightly rubbing on the creamy, soft, gentle fur of her feminine hoof; which tickled slightly.
Her hooves were that of a pianist, resembling an artist's hoof that could only make swift elegant movements on a plain canvas; that would be brought to life. As he turned around to walk off alarmed she spoke up.
"Where are you going?" She asked in a timid voice. His reply was only a three letter word that held hope yet executed the estimated possibility.
"See you around." And with those three letter words that he uttered, he disappeared into the crowd. Celestia stood there dazed once again as the crowd swallowed him up.
Yet another pony had left. Again.
The strong, intoxicating bitter smell of coffee wafted in the air, mixing with the expensive acrylics. Tubes of acrylics were scattered, unscrewed and resting on an antique looking, murky colored wooden box. There were obvious stains and a few minor dents. The sunlight streamed in through the translucent windows. A light, comforting breeze entered the room in slow intervals through the crack of the open window. Soft and soothing downbeat music played slowly in the background; it was like her very own bout of natural inspiration. It was like her very own paradise; a safe sanctuary where she could spend countless hours losing herself in her own little haven of a world, uninterrupted--- a utopia.
To her, it was perfect.
Grabbing the freshly made piping hot brew of coffee, Celestia slowly wrapped her magic cautiously around the classic black mug. Bringing the mug close to her lips, she tilted her head back as she took a small warm sip of the comforting bittersweet liquid; the heavenly aroma wafting through her nose just before the beverage slid down her throat, putting her troubled soul to ease.
It was like the perfect equilibrium moment. She averted her gaze to the giant canvas that rested upon a wooden stand. It was no longer a plain white anymore like it had been sold, it had been painted a smoky blue all over. She tilted her head to the side slightly as she inspected the completed painting, resting her hand on the side of her mouth as she focused her attention.
The stars that were visible in the navy blue smoky sky scattered around equally in tiny forms. So light and vibrant like a crystal gleaming, reflecting an enchanting sparkle that creates awe.
It had a hidden secret, a hidden secret that belonged to the owner of the painting.
But didn't all paintings have a hidden story or emotion that was being told by the key brush strokes?
Memories; good and memorable. However, some can be so painful that trigger old wounds to reopen and start bleeding again.
It can be painful, old memories are always painful.
The sky conjured up into different colors. Hues of blue, purple, orange, red and white all clustered together like a painting.
She sat on the balcony, under the night sky. The cold wind picked up, ruffling her mane. With a view of city lights, crowded streets, the dark sky blanketed in stars, she wondered in curiosity at ponies' late night adventures.
She slowly lifted up from the wooden seat, her destination being the edge of the intricate balcony. Clasping the railing with both of her hooves in an iron tight grip, she closed her eyes.
The wind whipped around her silky pastel locks, creating a tangle of knots. The fabric of the shawl covered around her shoulders, dances to the rhythm of waves in reply to the wind.
She closed her eyes, savoring the pleasure of the breeze and uplifting feeling she felt; it was entirely and utterly euphoric. Completely opposite to some aspects of her imperfect life.
It was the simple moments in life that she devoured. The feeling she felt was none other than pleasurable peace.
She always had a dream of travelling since a young age- she also had a passion for 'the arts'. She felt as though it defined her as a pony. It defined her personality and made her into the pony she was-in her point of view. Music. She enjoyed the rhythmic and emotional flourish of music. The way the beat and the tempo varied depending on the theme.
Writing. She loved the freedom writing gave, the way she could freely jot down her thoughts and feelings. It was a way of expressing herself; a way in which no one could know about.
Finally, painting. Painting held a different place in her heart. Each stroke she painted with elegance. Each stroke held a deep meaning that would only be understood by a close observer. Not a pony observing her, but observing the story of a painting.
Back to the present- she smiled wistfully at the view from her balcony. It was beautiful, the way ponies conversed and seemed to be free in the moment. She yearned for something, and now it was unattainable.