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// What happens when you have nothing to do for a day...also unexpected clients 
// Story: Snow Feather, the lesser known Art Restorer of Canterlot 
// by dracone 
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This always happens when I try to be original, I fail hard. Let me explain, I got my commissions done for the Canterlot elite that are aware of my business, some of which I will never mention again. My mom dropped by, she's always a sweet mare, and I gave her my list of things I can't purchase through mail order, where to go to get the best priced high-quality versions of those materials, and a bag of bits I measured out to have twenty-three percent more than the calculated total cost of it all, I knew she wouldn't spend it frivolously. Mom did what mom's do best, make you feel loved and awkward at the same time, and told me about a new shop called Sunridge Sweets, a new bakery in town, and brought me a small bag's worth of fabrics and threads, she told me it was for me to practice my sewing.

On the bakery front, mom's passed by the place a few times, but she's never actually been in. She says quite a few of the Canterlot's high society members are praising it as an excellent establishment, not to mention she's seen more than a few members of the Royal Guard popping in to visit it. I asked her to drop by the place sometime and ask if they do deliveries, and for their address. Alright, fine, if you really want to know, it's been ages since I had a decent sweet snack and I really want to see how they stack up.

As for the sewing, it's a disaster. I've literally tangled my talons up in the thread dozens of times, and everything I've been attempting to make comes out looking like a sleepy foal with one good eye tried to make everything, it's a total mess. It's only been a few days since I started trying it out; hopefully, I'll be better at it in the future. I guess I'm lucky I haven't pricked myself with the needle yet. Why must original art be so hard for me, I'm able to duplicate the styles of hundreds upon thousands of artists with almost no effort, but a piece that entirely from my own mind is a total flop? The goldfish pillow I tried making yesterday had its stitching all erratic and when I went to sew on the eyes they came out looking like it might have some sort of genetic deformity, if I tried to sell it somepony probably buy it out of pity.

I haven't had any work in days, my heating crystals are almost exhausted and I'm quite low on spares, metallic inks and paints need the right heating or they have the wrong the consistency when being applied (not something a whole lot of ponies know). I suppose I could do better if I were more well-known, but that could also compromise my security. I need a little project to work on, even if it's personal. Nopony that's dropped in has tried to purchase anything in the storefront in months, a few have made comments on a few pieces, but when it comes down to a time to potentially buy one they give a laundry list excuses. It's gotten so bad with the excuses that I keep a running count on the two-hundred most common.


Bored, bored, bored, wings tied up in yarn, bored, tail and hind legs tied up in yarn (seriously, how did that happen?), and more boredom. I literally have nothing to do, and all my attempts at sewing have resulted in the thread being far from salvageable. I know how to mix ingredients to perfectly replicate pigments that are not longer used, or extremely rare when bought fully mixed for a fraction of the price, can perform an overly showy technique that my dad showed me almost flawlessly, can paint with such ease and care in the most minute parts of a painting I'm restoring, know how to fix a book that's threatening to completely come apart, repair an exceedingly priceless statue and not leave any traces that it was damaged, but for some reason, I don't have the coordination to do simple stitch work... I have a feeling somepony will bring a really rare doll for fixing, so I'll keep at it once I get some more thread, and maybe some more needles.

Please, I need something to do. I rea

“Hello, anypony here? I don't remember a shop being here before,” came a very excitable female voice, “I kind of got turned around, again, but it's okay because Canterlot is just so much fun, and I can feel the love in this place, the attention to detail on what's out here, if you only had some seats so ponies could spend more time admiring everything. Ooh, notecards, I haven't seen anypony use these for business before, not sure why since they seem to be really useful in a work environment. Let's see here.” I could hear moving around, and tapping on the glass next to the cards.

Princesses, please deliver me from foolish mares, I have to deal with the demands of more than enough of those. Wait, did she just write a message on the glass with a pink marker? I'm going to be cleaning the glass early this month, oh joy (that was sarcasm if you didn't catch on). I really don't want to have to deal with annoying little...she dropped a notecard in, might as well see what it says.

And it says, How did a pink card get here? I don't use or stock up on pink cards. 'Hi, I'm Lovey Dovey, but you can call me Lovey, Dovey, or anything you like really.' Pink menace seems appropriate right now, 'I was headed to meet somepony in Canterlot, but I got a little lost and ended up here.' Oh, goody, 'What's your name? What's this...nevermind I read the sign, it's a cute name for the shop, what do you do here?'

I dropped reply on a blue note card, then prayed to the princesses this pony would leave. I had no such luck, I could hear her shuffling around the room. She dropped another pink note card (did she bring those with her?) through the chute asking if I had anything other than paintings. I sent another blue note card back saying I did have a few books in back and they were kept in back to as a measure against theft. She then dropped anther pink note card asking if there were any romance pieces.

I headed to the shelf where I kept the restored books I had worked on and carefully went through them all. Turns out nothing that matches modern concepts of romance were among the lot, the closest to that was a seventy-year-old academic tome on the ways love effects behaviors and performances in ponies. I dropped another blue card giving the results back to her. After she read it I heard a disappointed 'oh' from the glass and another pink note card asking to see the report on love, I sent a note back that she would have to buy it first, and asked if she had anywhere she needed to be, I heard rushed gasp before the sound of the door opening and closing along with the sound of a speeding pegasus was heard, I don't think I'll ever get used to the chipper ones.

At least she didn't try to set me up with anyone, that would have very awkward if whoever she brought with her made it to my side of the wall. Now I'm sure that the fish pillow I made is giving me a weird look, maybe I just need sleep, guess it's one of those close early days. I'm not sure what I'm gonna do anymore, this is my talent and it feels like it's being wasted. I hope Princess Luna doesn't get into my dreams, I don't know what I would do if the little secret of mine got out to her or Princess Celestia. I'm sure the princesses are wonderful ponies, it's just there are some of their social circles I'm concerned about. Just once I'd like to able to...it doesn't matter, I've given up that sort of thing a long time now.

Okay, glass is finally cleaned, notes on what I need to get are done and n

“Hello,” came a timid sounding mare's voice before the door to the shop opened, the distinctive sound of a unicorn mare, and earth pony mare trotting in could be heard. “You saw the sign out front, right?”

“Yes, deary,” came a more elegant sounding mare's voice, “judging by the displays here the shop either specializes in nearly flawless replications,” as if I would be so crass or mean-spirited, “or they specialize in restoring art.” That is indeed what my talent, that and restoring physical copies of literary works.

The sound of the mares looking around could be heard, for some reason, I never heard them name each other. “Oh, look,” came the came the timid voice, “they have note cards, color-coordinated in relation to a client's sense of urgency, what a marvelous idea. It's a way of telling the ponies who work here what should be the highest priority, without coming off as overbearing.”
“Genius,” said the elegant voice, I suppose we use them to communicate with the staff as well.” I heard the sound of a card being written on before a blue card came in the chute. This one asked about the total staff number, quality, and names of said staff.

I decided to be polite, especially since they were being quite polite. I told them it was only me, my name, and also informed them that I could tell them if the piece they brought in was genuine or counterfeit, I also told them just because an art authenicater was highly recommended that it was still likely they could botch on the authentication, especially if a client gave them a reasonable incentive to say the authentication was to go a certain way, just because they are highly recommended doesn't mean they are the best pony for the job, the more authentication experts the better, and it is best not to just use the highly recommended ones.

The response I got back was about a painting involving a unicorn on a hill surrounded by a sea of multi-colored grasses. One of the lesser known artists, Gosh-Hoof I believe had done that particular piece. I told her it was twelve hundred bits, I heard the sound of the ponies falling to the floor in my lobby, possibly even going unconscious. I received a note back saying I didn't know how to properly price the works out front, which honestly speaking is probably an accurate assessment. I got paid double, right the spot with a note saying they were glad someone knew professional conduct at least. The note left their names, Heirloom Frame and Jeweled Curio, who both happened to be well-known art appraiser and authentication experts that had a reputation for informing on clients who tried to buy their assessment to the royal guard. Looks like I'm putting a new piece on the wall when I close tonight, still bored out my skull though.