//------------------------------// // Chapter 10: Crucible on the Eighth Floor. // Story: The Last Impressionist // by CrackedInkWell //------------------------------// Everypony has fears, even grownup stallions like me have a few. I confess that one of those said fears happen to involve heights without any railing or anything to prevent me from falling. The reason I’m bringing this us is that by the time we got on the floor where Acrylic was, the Canterlot Police Department has said that they already tried to have him talk to a negotiator only to come up with nothing. So, after a discussion of what to do, it was concluded that if there’s anypony in Equestria that the Artist might talk to, it would be me. Fleur de Lis had already tied a rope around my waist in the event that I might slip at least I would be pulled back. At the moment, I’m climbing out of a window onto a stone ledge where Mr. Brush is sitting. Luckily there’s enough space to walk on, but I had my entire body pressed up against the wall of the hotel, try to look at my hooves and not at the… long… steep… rail-less edge of the street. “Fancy?” I stopped, looking up at him. He was wiping tears away from his eyes furiously. “What are you doing here?” “Funny enough, I was going to ask you th-” “Stop!” Acrylic cried. “Just, leave me alone! You’ve already done enough as it is.” “Well,” I looked down at my shaking hooves, “Could I at least sit down right here?” He looked back at the vertigo street below, waving a hoof. Gradually, I shifted my legs around until I sat on my hunches but kept my hooves away from the open air. “Acrylic, why are you up here for?” “What does it look like,” he said grimly, “I’m gonna jump.” “But that I don’t understand. Why would you do that for?” He looked up at me, giving an offended laugh, “Really? You haven’t figured it out by now?” “Not really,” I confessed. “Mr. Pants, just… just go away.” I saw his ears flatten against his head, “I know you will.” “I don’t think that would be possible for me at the moment.” He raised an eyebrow, “Why not?” “Mr. Brush, did I ever tell you that I have a phobia of being at a really, really, really high place where nothing to prevent me from falling as it is?” “You mean you’re scared of heights?” I nodded my head. “Sweet Luna you’re weird.” “Now, Acrylic, let’s try to stay on topic, what drove you to come up here to… end yourself?” He didn’t answer, “If I dare ask, are you infatuated with me?” His eyes widened, “H-How did-” “From the last painting you’ve left behind, I think it looks like I’ve offended you without realizing it.” He shook his head, “No… No Mr. Pants, you didn’t do anything. It has nothing to do with you, sir… It’s me. Yes, it’s true that I… like you in a way. But I know you have your eye on somepony else.” “Whatever are you talking about?” “When we were in Ponyville, and how that mare… what’s her name?” I blinked, “You mean Rarity?” “Yeah, when she described on how you two have met and how the both of you had such a wonderful time in Canterlot… What would be the point?” “I do believe you’re mistaken, Rarity isn’t my marefriend at all. She’s my business partner in which I’m also assisting her to open a shop here. I’m the one helping with the advertisement on her clothing.” “It didn’t look like it to me,” he leans forward a bit, putting his forehooves on both sides of his head. “Besides, even if I let you know earlier, how would I know if you would ever, well, return what I feel? I mean, why would you? You’re the stallion that has everything: Wealth; respectability; a fine home; a father that encourages and guides you; lived in a society where you can be whatever you want, be with whom you want; and you have ponies from all over wanting to see you. Fancy… I have none of that. No talent… no wealth… or respectability… or a family that will understand… no friends… no past… no present… no future,” I then saw tears come running down his face. “After I jump off, I will enter into a true death. One in which in five years, nopony would know my last name, another five, nopony would know my first, and another five… nopony would know that I existed at all. I’ll be forgotten, while you will be remembered. I can never give you any of the things you have now nor hope to. I’m just a stupid, talentless, stallion-stuffing hoofcolt that’s better off as a splattered thing on the sidewalk then one that works in your home. I can’t have happiness… I don’t deserve any of it.” I decided to scooch closer, “How do you know?” “Are you blind!” he snapped at me, “You pretty much lied to me each time I made those crappy paintings! ‘Oh it’s not that bad,’ ‘I think it’s really good,’ ‘Ingenious use of that orange,’ why not you just tell me that they’re bad? I know they’re bad, I know I can’t paint, and yet, you have me do one each day, and for what! So you could have your spoiled friends come by and laugh at them?” “Because I’m telling the truth you don’t want to hear,” I replied. “The truth is you are a fantastic artist, one of the best living painters out there that I know. Acrylic, if you jump now, you’d be robbing from the art community that world of yours that hasn’t been seen since the days of van Gogh and Moneigh. I promise you that there are ponies out there that would love to have even one of your pieces hanging in their homes.” “Stop it! Just stop!” he boxed his ears, “Stop telling me lies! My parents know that I can’t paint; my so-called friends know I can’t even draw! And those ponies back in that restaurant were right; the best I could expect out of life is to be a disposable hoofcolt, faceless, voiceless, and nameless as far as anypony is concerned.” “Well, before you do anything rash,” I scooched a little closer, “I want to apologize for something that I want you to hear. First of all, I’m sorry that I didn’t see this earlier. I ought to have known that this depression of yours is serious; I should have taken better care of you. I’m sorry that you have been unfairly been ignored for the talents you possess.” His ears perked up so I scooched closer, “I’m sorry that I haven’t taken any serious consideration of how you feel about not just life, but for me also. Acrylic Brush, everypony deserves to be happy, including you with or without that so-called curse of yours. And above all, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you that I saw the beauty underneath, and didn’t express that to you clearly.” He sniffed, “Really?” “It’s the honest truth,” I scooched closer. “Even if you never had any interest to paint, I do admire you. You’re a hard worker, passionate in your art, honest to me and to those who I cannot afford, to be honest with. You have a wisdom that you take for granted. Humor that is down-to-earth, and you’re the only stallion that I’ve met that isn’t interested in me for my money or status.” “Fancy, what are you trying to say?” I scooched closer, I’m about a foreleg’s stretch away, “Well, if you wish that the day after tomorrow, perhaps we could have a nice, quiet lunch by the Sunlight Falls?” He only stared at me, “Are you… are you asking what I think you’re asking?” “A date,” I shrugged, “I’ve got nothing better to do on that day.” Mr. Brush looked at me for a moment before saying, “You must be crazy! Either you’ve completely lost your mind or you’re crazy! No, I take that back, you must be crazy!” “But I’m really am giving you that chance to express what you feel about me.” “Oh stop talking nonsense,” he put his hooves in the sides of his head. “I’m just a poor hoofcolt.” I nodded, “Yes that is quite true. But as I’ve said, even a poor hoofcolt and a brilliant artist are entitled to some happiness.” I smiled, “Besides, as the younger generation might put it, what better way to troll all those uptight ponies then to go out with you?” He sat there looking between me and the street, “But you don’t really feel the same way back… do you?” “I didn’t ask if you would be my coltfriend, rather I’m asking you out to see if you might become my coltfriend. Now, I know you can’t be everything I wanted and vice-versa, but we don’t need to be. If all does go well, just needing what we really are would be enough. If not, I hope we can be drawn closer as friends, and I promise that if we don’t work out, I’ll be willing to find a charming stallion that is better than me.” “Are we seriously having this conversation right when I’m about to jump?” I chuckled, “At least it took your mind off it, didn’t I?” For a moment he didn’t reply, “Still won’t excuse about my horrible art.” “Here,” I leaned back against the wall, reaching into my breast coat pocket. “I meant to show you these tomorrow morning. But I think you’d need to see them.” I pulled out the tickets, “Remember when you said that you needed an invitation to become successful? Well, Mr. Brush here’s that invitation.” I levitated a ticket over to him in which he snatched it into his hoof, “‘The Last Impressionist?’ How is this supposed to help cheer me up?” “Every so often, I would organize an exhibition to premiere new works of art to the public. But more importantly, the Canterlot elite is coming tomorrow. These include celebrities, the movers and shakers, as well as some of the Royal Family tends to drop in every now and again. That ticket there is the very key to your future of having a career as more than a hoofcolt. You will get the chance to rub shoulders against those who are collecting artwork themselves. So if you painted right there on the spot, I guarantee that you’ll get the attention that you rightfully deserve. All you have to do is go.” He studied the white ticket for a full minute, “But… what if nopony likes what I paint?” “Please trust me on this, they will. This gallery I’m hosting is about Modern Impressionism, and ponies that buy these tickets only go to see the art that will be there. You’ll fit right in perfectly. Not to mention that they’ll be interested in a masterpiece in progress.” “What did I ever do to deserve your kindness Mr. Pants?” I smiled, “Because you needed it. Now come on,” I offered my hoof out to him, “Let’s get off this ledge before one of us falls off.” Acrylic looked at my hoof, “But you’re not serious about that… date bit, aren’t ya?” “I never make promises that I know I can’t keep, but this one I’d be glad to uphold. Now please, take my hoof.” For the longest minute, the red stallion didn’t move, glancing at me, as if internally interrogate me to find some kind of falsehood in my gesture. “If I do,” he said, “can you promise me to not abandon me when I need your help?” “You have my word.” To my relief, he took my hoof. “Oh good, now let’s get ourselves out of here.” We started getting up, slowly making our way to the window I came out in. “I say, Mr. Brush, how you got all the way up here, to begin with?” “When you’re the invisible stallion, you’ll be amazed by all the places you could go without getting noticed.” “Are you saying that you’ve just walked right through the lobby and up the elevator without raising any suspicion?” “Even when I sat down over there, nopony bothered to look up for a good five minutes.” “Are you pulling my tail?” “Do I even sound like I’m joking?” “No no, but I’m rather shocked at it.” We made it to the window in which I hopped in and Acrylic was pulled right in. “Sir, are you alright?” my butler asked once we were in the hallway. “Yes, a little shaken, but alright.” I turned to my bodyguard, “Fleur, Gustav, would you kindly escort Mr. Brush back home and give him the day off?” “Very good sir,” Gustav said before I leaned over into his ear and whispered. “Be sure to have somepony keep an eye on him. I’ve gotten him off the edge, but just have someone check on him.” He nodded, “Will that be all?” This time I turned to the Artist, “Acrylic, how would you like if you dine with me for dinner this time?”