//------------------------------// // Dessins // Story: Filetages Fatidique et Fleurs de Soie // by Indulgence //------------------------------// ‘… so yeah we ended up at mine, you fell into bed and were pretty much asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.’ Coco concluded her retelling of the previous night’s events, minus a couple of points such as awkward conversations with a severely inebriated unicorn attempting to tempt her into bed and then requiring the use of a sick bucket or her own sleep spent sprawled in her workroom’s chair, trying and failing to argue with herself that she really was not interested in the offer, returning to sipping from her teacup. It seemed that her and her host’s concept of brunch varied greatly for this was the first of such meals she had enjoyed which had something akin to courses. Things had begun simply enough with a toast basket and plethora of jams from which they had both picked, moving onto plates piled high with pancakes doused in syrup, washed down with vats of coffee, and now they were concluding with a pot of tea and pastries. Although it was collectively rather carb heavy to say the least, owing to half the party being desperate to cure her hangover, it was all utterly delicious, she in part shocking herself with the scale of her own appetite and how much of it they were able to wolf down. Decadent yet delicate would be how she would describe the feast, along with being well beyond her price range for what it was if her brief glance of the menu was anything to go by. This general description fitted the whole place pretty well actually. Even though its sign simply called it a café the establishment clearly had ideas far above its station. Within the single open dining space was décor very obviously playing at the idea of simplicity: light wooden tables covered in white frilled cloth, matched by homely curtains draping the windows and purposely exposed patches of red brick through the cream plastering of the walls all tried to produce the façade of a rustic house. The kitchen and wait staff had however obviously not been made aware of the attempted ruse, with dishes arriving in a highly decorated manner, itself impressive bearing in mind this was just glorified late breakfast, set down by servers who swanned about as if they were above everpony else in the room. Most of their fellow patrons were no better, with noses inclined skyward, whilst making extravagant gesticulations to embellish their conversations. It’s all kind of out of your league. It was not so oppressive as to be unpleasant, but nonetheless she could not shake the feeling of being out of place which her mind had so nicely summed up. More than ever her trademark collar and tie felt totally inadequate and sat tight about her neck. This overall sense of self was not helped by the beauty she was sat across from, Fleur being in the midst of pouring herself a second cup from the teapot. The unicorn had reverted back to the unmasked form Coco had first met her in, only a day ago in spite of it feeling far longer, visage cleaned of all stains of makeup, striped mane hanging loose and tousled, fallen low across her shoulders. She was simply beautiful, bearing with her an unpretentious elegance and purity in the soft contours of her form. Totally out of your league. --- Oh well done! Way t’ make yourself look like some stuck up posh pony! Fleur had begun to regret her choice of café from the minute they had entered and her fateful decision was now gnawing at her. Thinking back to the last time she was here she certainly did not remember it feeling quite so pressured. But then again her last and only visit had been in the company of some old Canterlot friends who were right at home in such a place, as opposed to a mare with whom (if she was being honest with herself) she was rather desperate to create a good impression, or at the very least something a bit better than “drunken mess”. Atop of these concerns the last time she had felt decidedly more put together than she did now; having emerged from the mare in question’s shower and found herself entirely without either disguising makeup or accoutrement. It was a strange combination to feel simultaneously underdressed and at the same time overdoing it, as if she herself were responsible for the, in lieu of a far less polite term, “fancy” nature of the staff and clientele which surrounded them. Her mind however was well up to the task, revelling in its attempts to dampen her already modest hopes for this simple meal. Of course none of this was helped by the retelling of her chemically lost past she was receiving from her guest, having pushed her into recounting it, its teller somehow making the content more embarrassing as she sat across from her in perfect prettiness, the total antithesis to both herself and the rest of the room. ‘So erm… you been in Manehattan long?’ Coco asked. ‘A few weeks’ Fleur replied, ‘I’m guessing the Canterlot accent gives me away right?’ ‘Kinda.’ ‘Well yeah, a few weeks doing…’ she paused. ‘Well, truth be told, exactly squat’ she admitted after a moment’s hesitation. ‘I dunno whether I really came here with a plan, but if I did I reckon it’s gone astray.’ What are you doing? Fleur could not answer beyond an internal shrug, in part as surprised as her inner voice about her honest confession, whilst being equally unaware of what prompted it. Throwing yourself at the hooves of a beautiful stranger are we? How cliché. ‘You must’ve come here for something’ Coco encouraged, raising her cup to her lips in the process. ‘I dunno really’ Fleur considered, almost thinking aloud, ‘just something. I sort of felt trapped you know and needed to escape to somewhere, with here being where I ended up.’ ‘What were you doing in Canterlot before?’ ‘I was a model back home, still am really since I haven’t found anything better to do. To say I pretty much ran away from it is not to say I didn’t enjoy it though. The shows, meeting designers, lots of it was fun but there was just something…’ Fleur stopped again, unable to put her hoof on the right words, before continuing: ‘At the same time my parents were always in the background, which I know makes me sound like a little filly but it’s embarassingly true. Half the time they’d act all proud of their star daughter and the other half they’d attack me for “dishonouring” or “cheapening” the family, depending entirely on who I was associating with at the time. For instance they were over the moon when they thought I was seeing this utter tool called Fancy Pants just because he was old money like they are. That’s code by the way for stuck up and bloody boring, much like quite a few of the ponies in here’ she sniggered, enjoying the smile it brought to her audience’s face. ‘I suppose my coming here was just some kind of rubbish rebellion against them and everything else like them. Anyway, sorry for unloading on you like that. Yourself? You’re no local either.’ ‘True enough. I’m from Fillydelphia originally and I’ve been here for a couple of months’ Coco began. ‘As for what I’m doing, I dunno really what to call myself. I’d love to say that I’m a designer, but I haven’t really made it that far yet so I’m less unimpressively just a seamstress. I mean, when I came here I was working as an assistant to Suri Polomare during fashion week, but I ended up… quitting that job, then Rarity threw me a sort of break making costumes for the theatre.’ ‘Oh yeah, I know Rarity’ Fleur interrupted, having taken some of her outfits down the catwalk, although the statement was redundant as anypony with even the vaguest interest in fashion had heard of Ponyville’s ever-rising star. ‘So yeah I’ve just finished my third show’s worth of costumes, which is sort of a compliment I suppose but I dunno’ Coco sighed with a shrug. ‘I couldn’t help but check out some of your stuff back at your place’ Fleur considered, mind’s eye cast back to the absorbing designs which dotted across the apartments walls. ‘They were all really impressive.’ ‘Thanks, that means a lot.’ Coco gave a small appreciative smile. ‘They’re just sketches though so it’s not like they’re going anywhere. Plus most of them aren’t even finished, stuck being… well, grey.’ Fleur thought over the brief snapshot of the images she had snatched, whilst all things considered not being in the best of sorts, having been touched by the intense artistry of each one, their styles fluid and their then unseen creator’s hooves gloriously unfettered in their experiments. Collectively they were raw and impassioned, already in bloom, with the potential of growing far further if nurtured. ‘Don’t talk like that’ Fleur found herself saying in a forceful tone, the designer’s disparagement of her own work having struck a chord. ‘Scratch “impressive”, they were bucking brilliant and anypony with any ounce of sense would leap at seeing them brought to life. Grey… is just another word for possibility, unrestricted at neither extreme.’ --- Coco felt a pink flush cross her cheeks, but internally she was aglow. This new light would not be put out, even as the pair of them received a long cold stare from a waiter in response to Fleur’s blurted vulgarity, she merely giggled along with her unicorn host, foregoing her usual routine which would have been embarrassed or apologetic. ‘Thank you so much’ she repeated, the praise given, although in the great scheme of things being but slight, at this time and from this mare being extremely touching. ‘No no’ Fleur brushed her words away with a wave of her hoof, still grinning in mirth as the joyless server stormed elsewhere, ‘I really mean that.’ In the succeeding split seconds they sat in silence, though it did not fall heavy between them, caught up in each other’s smiling looks and their own thoughts, until after strangely protracted mere moments Fleur continued. ‘This is probably gonna sound really sudden, but why don’t we just do it?’ ‘Do what?’ Coco just about managed suppressing a variety of meanings for ‘just do it’ conjured by her mind. ‘Sorry, some explanation might help. Well, like you said you’re kinda between jobs right now and I’m between… anything, plus from the sounds of things you pretty much rescued me from a night in a cell, which believe you me I have no desire to do again, so I definitely owe you big time. So why don’t we put on something like a small show? I mean you could put a bunch of your outfits together and we could get your name out there.’ Coco’s heart was briefly sent soaring, leaping joyously into flight at the idea, before the realities of the suggestion cut in bringing her careening back to earth. ‘But what about models or a venue, not to mention who the hay would show up?’ For a second time Fleur waved her hoof dismissively, as if the objections were the simplest things in the world to swat from the air. ‘Not an issue. You can obviously count me in, there are plenty of ponies I know who’d either love to be involved or owe me a fair few favours and other than that I’ll see who I can get in contact with.’ ‘You seriously shouldn’t feel you have to do anything you know. Last night really was nothing.’ ‘Not true, but I want to anyway. It being a further thank you is more of an afterthought.’ ‘But…’ ‘No worries and no guilt, ‘cause there’s no reason for it’ Fleur continued, reading Coco’s hesitation perfectly. ‘So how about it?’