Violet had woken up, thinking that she was dreaming. Though this was a common occurrence, this particular time seemed more than reasonable. She woke up without pain. It seemed like eternity, that she was laying there, feverish and weak. Now, she sat up in bed, her headache and sore joints gone, and the rotting licorice taste non-existent. Even her vision seemed clearer, as she could clearly see the frost covered window and bright white light streaming through the blue curtains. It was dawn.
"Oh!"
Violet stopped staring at the window to see Mr. Parch and Mrs. Sugar looking at her. Expressions of shock, worry, and relief were plain as day on their faces. Mrs. Sugar's mane was disheveled, and carelessly thrown into a bun on the top of her head. Mr. Parch wore a grey robe, and a really worn pair of slippers. Violet felt a small smile as she saw the edge of his hoof poking through the stuffing.
Mrs. Sugar walked slowly into the bedroom. She gently reached for Violet with her hoof, as though she wasn't sure what she was seeing was real. Violet responded by reaching with both hooves, and the two ponies quickly held each other in a tight embrace.
"Oh, Violet! I'm so happy you're alright!" The mare said. She then gasped and looked at Violet again, with a disturbing amount of thoroughness. "You are alright, right?" She looked at Violet's hooves, and peered behind Violet's ears. "No aches, no pains? Are you hungry? Here, let me help you get that filthy dress off!"
"Now, now, honey... Let her get her bearings first." Mr. Parch interrupted. "Do you remember anything, Violet?"
"I...um..." She cringed at her voice, which cracked. "I... remember spending the night with Cloudy... and falling in your back yard..."
Mrs. Sugar nodded, grasping the information without hesitation. "I'll go get you something to munch on." She said quickly. "Clearly you must be hungry." She briskly walked out of the room.
The room went silent. Violet felt a small wave of confusion at Mrs. Sugar's sudden, and rather abrupt departure.
Mr. Parch saw the look oh her face, and chuckled. "Sorry... being such a good cook... It's how she shows her love. Do you remember anything else? Like, what could've caused this? We had the doctor come in short notice, but I would like to be sure..."
"I... I don't remember, sorry." She said with a furrowed brow. Something in the back of her mind told her that she was supposed to know. It was as though... she already knew... but didn't know at the same time. As she tried to remember last night, and what could've caused her sudden wave of illness, a few of her later memories were unlocked from her mind.
"Hmmm... I see. Well, I'll leave you to get some more rest-"
"I remember... my mother. I heard her voice. She... sold me... to Fancy Pants." Violet stared at the bed sheets that were bunched around her hooves. She watched as the bright sunlight rippled and distorted the shine in the fabric. Today was the garden party, the second part of the ball.
The room went silent again. This time, with shock and awkward tension.
"Well... um... I'm sure you must have been..." Mr. Parch paused and sighed, knowing that wasn't the way to handle the situation. "Yes, Violet. Your mother made a deal with Fancy Pants. She... agreed... to have you work for him."
"But that's not real. What he said wasn't true." Violet felt a stir of emotions. Annoyance, anger, sadness, betrayal, and even happiness. Every thing that happened was very sudden, almost to the point where she didn't believe it actually happened. But here she was, still in Cloudy's bed, and her mother no where to be seen.
"That... is also correct." Mr. Parch made is way to the side of the bed and sat down. "Did you hear everything?"
A fluttering sensation appeared in Violet's chest. She couldn't place the feeling. Fear? Sorrow? Happiness? The only feeling that she could name without hesitation was numb. She was bizarrely self aware. It was as though she was floating on the outskirts of her own body, watching her dazed and blank face stare into nothing. She didn't feel cold, but she also didn't feel happy and warm. She felt nothing.
It was then that a realization occurred in Violet's mind. Reality... doesn't want you to win, but it doesn't want you to lose either. It doesn't care. It was willing to leave you alone, to fend for yourself. When you needed help, and deserved it, the world was more than willing to help you. If you tried, pursued, and were determined to be happy, you were happy. But if you didn't try, and you didn't work for happiness, or help, or anything of the sort, then the world- reality, would stare blankly at you without giving you an answer or guidance. It would continue to stare at you as you fell through the cracks.
Violet figured that the realization would hit her like a brick to the face. But instead, it felt soft and somber, as though it didn't actually wanted to admit it's existence and meekly walked into the room. It waved, and flashed Violet a sorrow, but sincere smile.
'Welcome to the real world...', it seemed to say.
Violet, not wanting to give up her naïve mind, rejected it's existence at first. But her thoughts kept getting in the way, and she couldn't quite leave the room that the realization resided in. Her mother, with her way of doing things and the ways she's chosen to live was the prime example of ammo. She willed for attention, success, and status, and that's what she got. That was all that she had. She didn't have her own mind, her own...self. She was nothing but a robot, seeing the world as some sort of trial that she had to get through. Violet thought back to her mother's actions. Her nose turned up to almost a calculated angle, her refusal to even touch a sale rack at a store, the tone she used with talking to ponies she thought were lesser.
She didn't pursue happiness, or friendship, or love. And she didn't get those things. Not even from the person that she committed herself to for life. Violet's father had always been distant, and now she finally new the reason why. Platinum Watch would see her mother, his wife, become a disgrace. He watch her get drunk, make a fool of herself, and gossiped about as though he were an outsider. It was as though marriage was nothing more than a document, a qualification for going up a level.
It was all a game. Her mother and her father viewed the world as nothing more than a game.
And... she almost was the same way. What made her different? It wasn't true to say that it was her personality. Ponies had personality. Shimmering, Rosie, her mother, her father, Mr. Parch and Mrs. Sugar; they all had personalities, and saying otherwise would be wrong and misguided. If anything, Violet's personality would have sped up the process of turning into her mother, what with her scripted childhood and anti-social behavior.
"Violet?" Mr. Parch asked, getting worried about the long silence that lingered. Violet started, shocked by the sudden noise interrupting her thoughts.
"Huh, oh... what?" She asked. She blushed, feeling slightly embarrassed.
"What all did you hear that night?" He asked. Violet couldn't remember if this was the actual question or not. "Or, more specifically, did you hear the end of our little conversation?"
Violet cleared her head of her thoughts, not quite capable of shaking of the numb feeling. She dug through her brain, trying to unearth last night's conversation.
"Fancy Pants left... I have no where to stay." She answered. She looked at Mr. Parch, his expression carefully neutral and unforgiving. It didn't provide her with an answer, but she had a feeling she knew it anyway. Suddenly, the numb feeling was gone. It was replaced with a new wave of feelings, a wave so huge it almost caused Violet to fall out of the bed. First came fear. A fear that she would be a burden. She was afraid of Mr. Parch and Mrs. Sugar thinking of her as a liability, as though the thought of raising her had to be done, or else they would be shamed as cruel and unjust ponies. Then came confusion. Last night was... a lot to take in. It almost seemed as though it wasn't real.
Then came a strange happiness, that wasn't really happy. Instead, the feeling was something between nervousness and excitement. It reminded her of her first sleepover with Cloudy. She didn't know what to do, or what was precisely going to happen, but she was excited and looking forward to seeing how things take their course.
Mr. Parch looked at her expression and sighed, letting his face fall into an easy smile. He wrapped his leg gently around Violet's shoulders. "Me and Crystal are thinking of painting this room. We both know your not fondest of blue. Though I'm sure you don't hate it, nopony would blame you if you got sick of it in a few days of living here."
"I like blue." She answered dumbly, letting his words sink in. "But I think grey would suit me better."
"Grey?" He asked, giving Violet a peculiar look. "It's going to be interesting, having an artist, such as yourself, getting accommodated in our little home. How about white? It would brighten up the room." He started gazing around the bedroom, as though rearranging the furniture in his mind. "I'm sure I have an old bed in the attic... In fact, since this is now your home, you now have the right to go digging around in there as you wish. Would you like that?"
Violet nodded. She had many times wondered about that tiny part of the cottage, locked away behind a lever she was never able to reach. Those few moments when she had seen Mr. Parch walk down the worn wooden steps, she would be greeted with sunlight streaming through the opening and the wonderful smell of age. Dust particles would gently float down, reflecting the bright golden light. It always seemed magical.
"Let's see, what else?" Mr. Parch rubbed his jaw with his hoof. "Crystal already keeps all of your favorite food in the fridge... and we're going to go to the market soon, anyway. We can buy shampoo, bed sheets, a new toothbrush, manebrush... I'm assuming your the type of pony who doesn't like to share those things, right? I never know. Crystal and Cloudy don't care about using the same manebrush, but then again, they practically have the same mane, so I guess with you it would be different."
Violet continued to listen, smoothing out the sheets on the bed. She realized with a groan that she was still wearing her dress from the night before. She honestly wanted to burn the thing. Though now, she wished she never noticed. With the realization that it was on her body, came the uncomfortable feeling of... well... sleeping in a ball gown. She really couldn't compare that feeling to anything else. One could suppose that it was similar to the feeling of sleeping with a load of laundry on your blanket, but there was also the itchiness of the tulle and the constricting feeling of the bodice.
"Hmmm..." Mr. Parch said, contemplating his words. "I suppose we could buy you a new typewriter... actually there might be one in the attic. I'll look later. Your camera is in your bag and we can always buy you new developing materials." He looked towards Violet. "Is there anything else? We could drop by your house for a few moments, maybe pick up some things of more importance?"
Before Violet could speak, the door opened, revealing a partially-flour-covered Mrs. Sugar holding a large plate. On the plate were crispy apple slices, scrambled eggs with zucchini, and buttered toast. Violet's stomach rumbled at the sight. It was moments like this when she was glad to be in the care of such kind ponies. Too many mornings of her life were spent fetching her mother's beauty products and smoothies, and being forced to try and taste all of them.
"Sounds like somepony is hungry." Mrs. Sugar said with a beaming smile. She walked to Violet's side of the bed. Violet then realized that Mrs. Sugar walked out of the room rather conveniently. It was as though she didn't want to face situation of Violet realizing her mother's actions.... interesting.
"Oh!" She said, almost dropping the hot plate. She placed it on the bed before the breakfast food could be permanently tangled in Cloudy's carpet.
"Um... Has Cloudy not come out of the shower yet?" Mrs. Sugar asked. Violet looked down the other side of the bed. It was true. Cloudy's pile of pillows was empty, though there was a clear indentation in the cushions from where she slept.
"No, Pastry Puff, she hasn't." Mr. Parch answered, still thinking of the new flooring arrangements for the room. "She's going to need a desk..."
"Hm. She's been in there a long time... I hope she's doing alright." She said. Violet looked at her curiously. "She slept in her gown too, she got in the shower a few minutes before you woke up."
"Does she know I'm awake?" Violet asked, carefully levitating a spoon of buttery zucchini into her mouth.
The two ponies in front of her exchanged looks of realization. No, she didn't know that Violet was awake. How were they going to tell her? Violet couldn't just wander into the bathroom, the poor little filly unaware of her awakening. She had manners, and didn't want to scare the daylight out of her friends coat.
"I figured you would have told her... while you were cooking." Mr. Parch whispered. His expression showed that he didn't figure that at all, and was just simply suggesting that his wife be the one to tell their daughter. Violet could understand. She was a lot like Mr. Parch in many ways, and with the stress he's been dealing with over the past night, it seemed more than reasonable that he didn't want to deal with his daughter's exuberant attitude. At least not this early in the morning.
"Alright, alright." Mrs. Sugar said. She stole a strip of apple from Violet's plate. "I'll go tell her. You need to take a shower too, Violet." She pointed the partially eaten apple slice at her. "You've been sleeping in that gown all night, with a fever! For all we know, this thing could have been caused by a bug. You need to get out of that dress, and into a warm bathtub immediately."
Violet nodded. She eagerly inhaled her meal and followed Mrs. Sugar to the bathroom.
"Hm. That's strange." Mrs. Sugar said with her ears facing the door. "She's not answering. I figured we'd hear nothing but chaos from the other side when we told her... but there's not even a peep as far as I can tell." She nocked again with her hoof. "Cloudy, honey, are you alright? Did you hear me?" She pressed her ear to the door, only to face Violet a few seconds later and shrug.
"Maybe I could try?" Violet asked.
"Why not?" Mrs. Sugar said, pressing her ear to the door once more.
"Cloudy... um... it's me." Violet said to the closed door. "I'm alright. I'm awake. Are you okay? You need to open the door, I need to take a bath too."
"Oh, um... Violet can come in!" There was a click. The door unlocked. The two ponies on the other side shrugged. She must have not heard over the water running or something.
"Well, that's great, Sweetie." Mrs. Sugar said. "I'll just get some more towels-"
"NO!" Cloudy's voice echoed through the hallway. "Um... I mean, we have plenty of towels. Please... I'm not decent... don't come in."
"Oh, uh... alright." Mrs. Sugar looked more confused than hurt. She rolled her eyes and whispered to Violet playfully. "Fillies." She started walking down the hallway, probably to discuss the more official matters of having Violet in her care. "Call me if you need anything!" She shouted.
"Are you-?" Violet was forcefully grabbed and pulled into the bathroom. Her vision turned into a blur of creams and lilacs. Mr. Parch took responsibility of decorating the bathroom, unlike the rest of the house. He took pride in his ways and replaced the previously installed, modern looking, square tub and shower with an old Celestian style tub, complete with dragon claws for feet. It was huge. The two fillies could probably swim in the thing if they tried. Everything in the room looked as though it was pulled straight out of the historical fiction novel of Violet's dreams. Complete with lilac towels and flowers, it was easily one of Violet's favorite rooms in the entire house.
"Violet!" Cloudy whined. She was hopping from hoof to hoof, and a strained expression was stretching her face to disturbing limits. Her entire body was wrapped in a towel.
"Ummm..." Violet said, suddenly unsure of her friends mental state. "If you had to go... you could've gone... you know... right there." She pointed her hoof at the toilet. "I can leave and give you a few minutes, if you want."
"How could you talk about those kinds of things right now?" She asked. "I have news!" Her hopping grew more sporadic.
"News?" Violet repeated.
"Yessssss..." Cloudy whispered. Violet was starting to get more and more disturbed by her friend's behavior. "I... saw something."
"You... saw... something." Violet repeated her best friend once more.
"Yes. For the love of Celestia, Violet! How you managed to get such high grades, I'll never know. All you do is repeat everything." Cloudy rolled her eyes in an exaggerated manner.
Violet glared. "Okay... what did you see?"
Cloudy then jumped, and nearly banged her head on the white ceiling above her. She swelled her cheeks with her words as they were ready to burst out of her mouth and rampage onto the world. Violet flinched, waiting for the loud and abundant waterfall of noise, only to be sadly let down.
Instead, she saw Cloudy gazing at the skirt of her gown. She kept staring as though Violet had sprouted a fifth leg.
"What?" Violet asked. "What is it?" She started staring too. She couldn't see anything, other than a stained and horribly wrinkled gown.
"I saw it." Cloudy answered. "You have it too, I saw it."
"Cloudy, your being more troublesome than a pheonix with a head cold. What did you see?" Violet asked again, this time getting less annoyed and more frightened. She started groping the edges of her gown.
"Don't lift that skirt!" Cloudy shouted with a tone that one could only describe as demonic. Violet quickly dropped whatever bunches of fabric she had been holding. She was then tackled to the ground.
"Do you not understand how important this is?" Cloudy asked, towering above her. "And you were just about to look, as though you were simply gazing at a ladybug on the ground! What is wrong with you? This is the most important moment of your life!"
"Cloudy!" Violet shouted. "What did you see!" Her ears were pressed against her head in agitation. Her nerves were down to their frays, and she was starting to get tired of her best friends attitude.
Cloudy was quiet. Only after an eerie silence, did she speak.
"A black smudge." She said. Her eyes implied that it was the most important black smudge in the history of black smudges. "On your flank."
Those last words caused Violet's ears to perk up... as well as they could while being pressed against the floor.
"My... flank...?" She asked, suddenly understanding Cloudy's behavior. "Are you implying...?"
"And I saw a white smudge on mine!" Cloudy added. She placed her hoof on her forehead dramatically. "What are we going to do?"
"I don't understand." Violet said, feeling confused once more. "Isn't this a good thing, if it is a thing at all?" She glanced warily at her cloth covered flank. "I mean, those vents were quite dirty..."
"Don't be ridiculous, Violet!" Cloudy snapped. "This is important! This mark will make me reevaluate my entire life, and I don't even know what it is! Is that normal? I don't think so!"
"Don't you think you're over-"
"This is dreadful! My entire life depends on this mark! As soon as I saw the smudge, I wrapped myself in a towel. I could let myself look at it until I knew what it was!" She raised her hoof in the air, giving herself a determined pose. "I will find out what it means!" She faced Violet again, her face deadpan. "What does your's represent?"
"Mine?" Violet asked, startled by her sudden question. "Who's to say I even have mine at all?"
Cloudy's eyes narrowed. "You have a cutie mark, Violet. Face the facts!"
"Um... I... I don't know." She stuttered. The ground was starting to get very uncomfortable. "But I'm sure the mark doesn't matter... not that much!" She said, trying desperately to console her friend. "I mean, your mother is a cook... she doesn't work in a restaurant, right? Plus, you probably do know your special talent, but it's subconscious..." Violet felt as though that last remark was a bit of a stretch, but she was starting to lose blood circulation to the tips of her hooves.
Cloudy pondered Violet's words. After a few moments of silence, she crept off of her friend and stared into the wall in thought. Violet rubbed her now sore legs.
"I... guess..." She said.
"And," Violet added. "Since you've technically figured out your special talent, it can't really be anything bad. You didn't do any bad things, did you?"
"No." Cloudy answered with her lips lightly puckered in thought. She looked down at Violet still sitting on the floor. She gave her a hoof to help her up.
"Thanks." Violet said, glad to be off the ground.
"Sorry." She said. "I'm just... a little freaked out. I've been obsessed with getting my cutie mark for the longest time... you wouldn't understand."
Violet wrinkled her nose guiltily. Cloudy was right, she wouldn't understand, and she didn't. To be honest, she never really cared about her cutie mark, at least, about obtaining it. Sure, she wondered about what it would be and how it would effect her life, but she never worried about how it would appear or whether or not it would be good or bad. She didn't feel like she needed to. She always considered cutie marks to be... set in stone, for a lack of words. She knew you couldn't force one to appear, but you also had to put in effort to expand your talents and work hard on them. And she did that. With an abundant amount of motivation that naturally came from doing something she loved, she wrote and scribbled and broke many quills expanding her talent to it's fullest potential. She tired herself out, working with other materials and using other mediums. She was sure her talent was writing, or probably another form of art. The only thing she had to do, was wait. She had to wait for a sudden realization, or an epiphany of sorts, that told her what she specifically was meant to bring to the world.
If only she remembered what it was.
She struggled to remember her last writing session. She realized that her flank was blank after, so it probably wasn't then. She thought about everything she did the day before. The party, the vent, Shimmering's attitude, Pheonix Heart's dance with Iron Wing, running into Fancy Pants numerous times, running back to Cloudy's cottage... Hmm. Nothing. She remembered quite a bit of pointless details, so she wondered why she couldn't remember the most important one.
"You haven't been obsessed." Violet said after pondering for another moment. She figured once she saw her cutie mark, if it was even there, her memory would come surging back to her. "You haven't spoken about cutie marks in weeks. And those few times that you did, it was because Shimmering and her friends were mocking you."
"Well... Yeah, I guess you're right." Cloudy said. She gripped the towel and pulled it tighter around herself. "But, I've been thinking about it a lot."
Violet hummed in understanding. She had to think of a way to move things along. She and Cloudy couldn't sit on the bathroom floor for the rest of their lives. At the end of the day, the dress had to come off and the towel had to drop. They had to look.
"Um... I could look for you, if you want?" Violet said once the idea popped into her mind. "You can look to see if I have one too. That way, one could prepare the other for what they're about to see."
Cloudy raised her hoof up to her chin in thought. "That sounds like a good idea. But what if-"
"No excuses!" Violet said loudly, standing up and magically unzipping the dress. "It's either slow and painful, or quick and painless. Let's go."
"Um... I..." Violet strained her magic to gently lift Cloudy's towel off of her. The filly, eager to keep her flank covered, quickly stood up. "Okay, okay... I'm ready when you are." She readjusted her towel.
"One..." Violet began counting down.
"Two..." Cloudy said, closing her eyes.
"Three!" They chorused.
There was a deafening silence of cloth falling to the floor. For a brief second, a feeling that can only be described as a nervous bomb going off materialized in Violet's stomach. She quickly swallowed it down and opened her eyes to stare at Cloudy.
Both of the girls were silent. Both of the girls were staring. Both of the girl's eyes were locked in place at each other's flanks.
"Cloudy..." Violet said.
"Yes?" Cloudy's voice was tight.
"You were right. That's not just a smudge."
Cloudy did indeed have her cutie mark. Violet recognized it as those masks that you saw in the theater. The old ones. One of them with a smile, and the other with a sorrowful frown. She wracked her brain, and remembered them to be the comedy and tragedy masks. In the center, between the two masks, was a bright blue daisy. The petals seem to be gradient however, and became white at their edges. Smaller, all white flowers were scattered seemingly at random at the bottom.
Violet couldn’t breathe. All she could do was stare at Cloudy’s cutie mark. Even though she was simply standing there, not even aged a day, Cloudy seemed older and more at peace than usual. That was the power of cutie mark. At least, as far as image goes. It made a pony seem more in control of their lives, wiser, and more experienced… even if that wasn’t the case in reality.
Cloudy was in the same position as Violet. She didn’t move, and her eyes didn’t dart from place to place. She simply stood there, with her muscles locked, frozen solid.
“Well?” Violet asked. “Is there anything there?”
“Um… yes. Yes, there is definitely something there.” Cloudy answered in monotone. Violet could tell her best friend was frightened, as was she. As soon as the words exited Cloudy’s mouth, a new wave of raw terror clawed relentlessly at Violet’s stomach. Its talons raked against her tummy’s lining, causing it to burn and sting. The fear found its way up her throat, and caused small tears to prick the corners of her eyes. She felt like a hypocrite, what with feeling as though Cloudy was being ridiculous in the beginning. Now she understood the fear. She understood how intense the feeling was as her friend gazed emotionlessly at her supposedly new cutie mark.
She would have done anything not to look. But, at the same time, she would have done everything to know what it was.
“So…” Cloudy said, her voice still lacking emotion. “When do we look at our own?’’
` “Should we look?” Violet asked without thinking. Cloudy nodded her head.
“I… I don’t know what yours is… I’m sorry.” Cloudy said quietly.
That caused Violet’s heart to stop for a brief moment. If Cloudy couldn’t describe it… then it clearly had to be something different than the quill or typewriter that she was hoping she would get.
“I can describe yours, if you want.” Violet suggested. Cloudy nodded again.
“Okay, um… you know those masks, which they have to represent theaters and plays? The ones with the frowns and smiles?” Violet felt nervous. It didn’t feel right to introduce Cloudy to her cutie mark this way.
“The comedy and tragedy masks?” Cloudy asked. Violet felt a wave of surprise block out her intense wave of fear. She didn’t think Cloudy would know what those were.
“Yes…” She answered. “And they have-“
“Stop.” Cloudy whispered. Violet felt her ears lower. “I’m going to look." Her eyes squeezed shut and she bit her lip. "W- we can look together, right?"
Violet nodded.
"Okay..." Both girls took a deep breath. "Two..." Violet felt the cold feeling of dread and excitement seep into her bones. "Three!"
The two fillies spun around. Violet saw the bathroom as a blur, the lilac flowers becoming streaks in her vision. She stared at her flank with an unflinching glare. At first, she didn't actually see her mark. Her brain was blocking out the sight due to fear. After a while, she truly looked at it, and many things started to happen.
It was black, just as Cloudy theorized. It was a black heart, with a grey crescent moon adorning it's side. On the other side of the heart, was a simple white silhouette of a feather. It was simple, while also being strangely complicated. Her body jumped, and she saw the smallest shimmer of a metallic lace design on the black color of the heart, that was almost invisible unless the light hit it correctly.
Something in her brain clicked. A memory seemed to be uncovered, as though somepony were to throw off the cloth that once hid it from the world. Voices. She had heard voices yesterday. Strange, familiar voices that she instantly recognized as the voices of her characters. The voices that she imagined herself. In the vent, as well as at the spa, her characters spoke to her... and she became them.
That is silly. She thought to herself. There was no way a simple unicorn such as herself could have such a unique ability. It should be something like writing, or storytelling, maybe she was looking at it wrong. That's it. She was. She was looking at her cutie mark incorrectly...
But she wasn't. She knew she wasn't. The voices... she couldn't deny their existence, or their connection. She couldn't deny the fact that her abilities, and her personality were effected by her talent. It all made sense. Her skill for writing, and her passion for creating these characters, everything was explained. Her sudden speed in the vent, that was White Rose. Her rash, jealous personality that caused the outburst of anger in Nightingale's and the brief moment of jealousy towards Cloudy at the spa, that was Sea Strike.
Ah, but she couldn't be an overpowered protagonist, could she? All of her abilities, being heightened to such degrees does not come without consequences. Her body couldn't take it, and that's what caused her illness and exhaustion. Her body, logically, could not deal with the physical capabilities of her characters, and it simply overpowered herself. Her mind was overworked, as well as her body due to doing things that not even the average mare could do, much less the average filly.
At least, that's what she thinks.
Her special talent was something along the lines of gaining the abilities of the characters she writes. Of that, she was positive. She's physically and mentally influenced by them for a brief period of time. Her body would give out, due to exhaustion or some magical entity thinking that she had too much fun, and she would be... well... more than sick. She could die, simply speaking, if she pushed her body to the limits of her character's bodies. It was the only logical explanation for the entire scenario of her being bedridden and ill. There needed to be a level of balance.
But, the thing was, parts of her cutie mark went unexplained. She understood the feather, being her "quill" and her writing abilities. Her heart was both a symbol for her love of her characters, as well as her ability to gain life from them, for lack of better words. But the other part of the mark, the moon, she could not explain for whatever reason there may be. Maybe she was looking at it incorrectly. Maybe it wasn't a moon at all. Life would be pretty boring if she knew everything about the cutie mark.
"Wow... it just... sets in. Doesn't it?" Cloudy said. Violet jumped, forgetting that she was still in the room with her.
"Yeah." She said in a whisper. "It really does."
"Now what?" Cloudy asked, turning around.
Violet breathed a heavy sigh. "Well..." She levitated a washcloth from the counter and got it wet in the sink. She moved it towards Cloudy, who grabbed it with a curious look on her face. "Your mother wanted us to clean up. I would rather wait a while, wash up, and show them then, than to show them now and ruin the fun by having to take a bath." She grabbed another washcloth and started washing her rather disgusting coat. It wasn't a bath, not by far, but it would satisfy both the girls, and Cloudy's mother for the time being.
"Yeah, I guess your right." Cloudy started washing herself as well. "What does your's mean?" She asked.
Violet paused. "Um... how about you explain your's first. Mine's a bit... complicated."
Cloudy snorted. "Well, that's not surprising, Miss 'Doom and Gloom'!" She saw Violet roll her eyes and laughed. "Mine is acting. I said I was practicing with sneaking out of the house and all... and I guess I'm better at it than I thought. Wiggling us out of that situation, with Fancy Pants and Hoity Toity must be my talent in its purest form."
"Hm." Violet grunted. She had to admit, when Cloudy talked her way out of that bind, it almost seemed magical. Now it all makes sense. Cloudy had a naturally innocent personality and appearance, so who better to have the responsibility of having the talent of acting innocent? Cloudy would never do anything wrong, not without good intentions or it being accidental. Anypony else would take advantage of that talent and use it with malicious intent.
"Sooooo...?" Cloudy said, nudging her elbow against Violet's side expectantly.
"'Sooooo', what?" Violet asked. She wrung out the dirty wash cloth in the sink.
"What does your's mean?" Cloudy asked again. Her eyes were huge, and bluer than ever.
Violet laughed nervously. "How much time do we have?"