In the early morning hours of a quiet Ponyville summer, the soft wet strokes of a paint brush could be heard through one of the highest windows at Pink Apple Manor.
A touch of red here, a touch of blue there. Stop that run from trailing into the yellow. Lots of pink. Add a splash of green. A bit more there and… The flow of paint to canvas ceased. A soft drip of fuschia pigment onto blank paper continued for a few moments at the filly stopped to breathe, and admire her work. Finished, at last.
Decorating the wall of her room—which she’d long since forgotten the original color of—was an assortment of new colors and fresh paint, guided by the careful hoof of an excited pink filly. Her latest work depicted a pink filly not unlike herself, reaching out toward a similarly pink balloon which was floating away. Detained, however by the enormous cupcake pinning her to the ground, the poor filly could only let tears fall as her heart’s desire escaped her grasp.
Ink Blot wiped the tears from her own eyes, relaxing her shoulders and settling onto the ground. She breathed a sigh of satisfaction. Another masterpiece to her collection. And just as the sun was coming up on Saturday. The crimson glow shone in through the far window, lighting up her latest mural.
Ink Blot stared at her new painting for a few more minutes, allowing the thoughts and emotions which had gone into it to leave her, and paste themselves onto the wall with the paint. Then she went about the task of putting away her painting supplies. Dunking the brushes into a collective pail of water, she carried them over to the washroom and dumped out the dirty water, adding more ugly gray to the already stained washtub. She turned the water on and left the brushes to wash on their own, returning to the paints she’d left out.
And froze. Perched on a bucket of light blue paint, was Spike’s pet phoenix, Peewee. Neither of them moved for a whole minute. He just sat there, staring back at her with his glowing yellow eyes. Then he let out a loud, screeching cry, flapped his wings hard, and took off, tipping the bucket and spilling its contents all over the paint tarps she’d had laid out. Thank goodness for those.
Ink Blot quickly ran to fold up the edges of the tarp and stop the paint from spreading to the floor. It wasn’t an ugly color, but on a stained and polished hardwood floor, it wouldn’t look right. Darn that bird. It was a brand new bucket, too. She’d just opened it the other day. Oh he was so going to get it for this. Either that or Spike would get an earful.
Thankfully, the tarps kept liquids from seeping through, and she could roll it up and throw it in the wash, after rinsing it off outside. What a way to start the day. Ink Blot carefully replaced the lids on the rest of the buckets of paint, and returned them to her paint cabinet, making sure to lock it.
Next, she rolled up the tarp, folding it first so as to not let any paint spill out, and dragged it toward the window—hopefully nopony was up yet. She tossed it out onto the ground below and headed over to the stairs. She heard no startled yelp of despair accompanying the thump of the tarp as it hit the ground. Good. Ink Blot dismissed a silent dissatisfaction that Peewee had not been there as it landed, and headed down the stairs.
“Hi, Inkie Pie!”
“U-AGH” Ink Blot jumped almost clear to the ceiling as her mother appeared out of nowhere. “MO-OM! Would you stop doing that?” she cried, stamping her hoof on the tiled floor.
Ink Blot’s mother, the renowned party planner for Ponyville and lover of all things bright and fun, was about as energetic as one might expect from somepony of her occupation. She also had this nasty habit of appearing right next to you and screaming in your ear for no reason. It was probably enough to give an older pony a heart attack.
The blood slowly returned to Ink Blot’s face as she glowered at the sugary, sticky mess smiling at her from across the kitchen.
“Whatcha doin?” her mother asked, setting down the bowl she’d been mixing and staring intently at Ink Blot, who simply rolled her eyes.
“I’m going to wash off my painting tarp. Peewee spilled all of my light blue all over it.” She continued walking—a bit more stiffly—down the hall to the main door.
“Aww, that doesn’t sound anything like him. Are you sure—”
“Yes. I watched him do it. Can I please just try to enjoy my Saturday, mom?” Ink Blot stopped and turned at the door, glaring back at her mother. She looked hurt by the comment, but seemed to shrug it off.
“I… okay. Go have fun.” Her smile faded and she turned back to her mixing bowl, picking up the spoon and stirring slowly. Ink Blot turned and was about to leave when her mother called back.
“Oh, but stay out of the forest. You know daddy gets worried about you when you’re out there.”
“Mom! I’m just washing my paint tarp off in the stream, it’s not like anything bad can happen around here. Just get off my back, geez!”
“Oh, or the old abandoned barn near the forest. You definitely don’t wanna—”
“MOM!”
“Sorry.”
Ink Blot slammed the door and shook the heat of the argument from her head, then stomped over to the corner of the house where her tarp had landed. Her mother could be so unreasonable at times. Ink Blot gave the area a quick glance to be sure no paint had splattered onto the house, and grabbed the tarp with her teeth.
It was bad enough she had to scare everypony out of their skin whenever she said ‘hello’, but she had to be so overprotective all the time. There was nothing out here that could hurt her—not that anything in the Everfree could either; The worst she’d seen in there was a manticore, and she could easily outrun him. Ink Blot dumped the tarp in the stream and jumped in, stomping out the paint and making sure the whole tarp got wet.
“OW!” Something jabbed Ink Blot in the flank. She leapt out of the water and rubbed her backside, looking around for her attacker. It didn’t take her long to notice the flame colored bird flying right over her head.
“You again? What’s with you? Crazy bird.” She kicked at him, but he just flew higher and screeched loudly, before flying off. Ink Blot growled audibly and trudged back into the water to fetch her tarp before it got washed too far downstream. She’d have to hang it up to dry, but she’d still have a good portion of her day left.
A nice trip to the library would be nice. Twilight was always so kind to young readers, and if her assistant was in, it would give Ink Blot a good chance to tell him off about his crummy nuisance of a pet. She ran inside to grab her saddle bags, ignoring the sounds coming from the kitchen, and took off at a run down the path toward town.
~ ~ ~
The sky was still clear over Ponyville, giving the morning sky a blue to indigo hue stretching from the rising sun to the horizon behind her. Ink Blot felt a pang of dismay at that, but before long a brilliant red streak of cloud began etching its way across the sky.
Ink Blot smiled. The old head weather pony, Rainbow Dash, would never have been caught dead working the sky this early. But thankfully her chosen replacement was an early riser, and took particular attention to the morning sky, when the sun’s rays could create brilliant works of art.
The ride into town took far less time than it should have with a sky painting to watch as she got closer, and by the time Ink Blot had reached town, there were brilliant hues of red and gold dancing across the sunlight horizon. Ink Blot passed by the meadow on the far side of the lake on her way to the library.
This was where the weather pony kept her cloud home, and her eye for detail did not stop with just the weather. Her house was painted with rich hues of red and orange, as well as blues and greens as trim in other places. Rainbow Dash’s house had been themed for rainbows. This house was a rainbow, but looked more like a painting of a sunset.
“Wo-oah!” Ink Blot was so caught up in admiring the sky that she’d completely forgotten about where her hooves were going. With a loud splash, Ink Blot found herself half submerged in the little stream that ran adjacent to the meadow.
“Haha, going for a swim, Ink?” somepony laughed nearby. Ink Blot looked up to find an orange pegasus mare with a red and blue mane hovering over her. She must have just finished with the clouds. Ink Blot stood up and shook herself dry, then trotted up out of the stream, dumping her saddlebags on the ground beside her.
“Eh, I was planning on getting wet anyway,” she said with a smile, looking up at her friend. “Hi, Rainstream.”
Rainstream dropped onto the ground and gave her wings a flick, spraying little droplets of water everywhere. “Well you came to the right place,” Rainstream said with a smile, as a light drizzle moved over them.
This was probably the only part of town where it would always rain. Rainstream was very fond of rain, and while she couldn’t have it rain all the time on Ponyville—the towns ponies would grow irritable when they were stuck inside all day—the flowers here were glad of the drink if it was kept gentle. The rain cloud also moved around so as to water the whole meadow, and not drown just one spot.
“What brings you out here?” Rainstream asked, heading toward the center of the rainfall, where it was thickest. Ink Blot followed silently, leaving her saddlebags on the bank. The rain wasn’t heavy, but there was enough of it that their coats and manes were soaked before long.
“I was heading into town and noticed the clouds,” Ink Blot replied. “I thought I’d stop and say hi.”
Rainstream smiled wide, letting out a tiny snort of amusement. “Thanks,” she said, looking up at the sky. “Not many ponies really notice the sky unless it’s raining or too sunny . It means a lot to know somepony appreciates my artwork.” She stopped directly under her cloud home, the source of the rain, and spread her wings wide. Arching her back, Rainstream tilted her head back and stared straight up, smiling into the rain through closed eyes, letting the drops roll off her sleek coat.
Ink Blot nearly gasped aloud. She enjoyed the sunrise surprises that her pegasus friend often made possible, but this was a different side of Rainstream’s art entirely, which had been lost on Ink Blot before. It was like she’d been completely blind to her friend’s art until this moment, which gave her an idea.
“Say, Rain?” Ink Blot started, rubbing one hoof over the other.
“Mm?” Rain looked up—well, down, actually—and blinked away the drop in her eyes.
“Well, I um… I was wondering if you wouldn’t mind posing for a painting. I’ve been looking for some new inspiration lately and with the way you love the rain so much, I just thought… maybe...”
Rainstream inhaled deeply, smiling wide “Oh, a painting,” she cooed. “My very own painting. I would love that, Ink, you have no idea. I can only create so much with the clouds, limited to the light patterns provided by the sun, and a few rainbows, but you... With your brushes, you can create incredible displays of color, and so life-like too.”
Ink Blot could swear there was steam visibly rising from the Rainstream’s face as she stared off into space with wide, glistening eyes. Way to flatter a girl.
“Great,” she replied, beaming. Let me just get my—Hey!”
She turned back toward the bank where she’d left her saddlebags, only to find Peewee perched on them. He plucked one brush from their depths, and held it up to the light. Ink Blot groaned. Of all the brushes he could have nabbed, it had to be that one.
It was a one of a kind, Princess Luna themed brush that miss Rarity had bought for her last year on her birthday—and worth a fortune. It was also one of her most treasured possessions, as it was said to have special properties. She hadn’t figured out what they were yet, but she always kept it with her. And that pesky bird was stealing it.
“Oh, no you don’t!” Peewee instantly took to the air after Ink Blot’s shout, who charged after him.
“You come back here with that! That’s mine!”