Isn't She Lovely?

by TheAmazingMe

A Lovely Party...from a certain point of view

“Do I get to say it?” Measured asked as Lovely entered his office.

“I’m really not in the mood.” She replied dejectedly, paper levitated by her side. Lovely slumped into the chair in front of his desk and sighed.

He looked at her, eyes full of sympathy. “If it’s any consolation, I’m not happy about it either.”

She sniffed. “You read the critique. Even the gay community says it was hackneyed and forced.”

Measured snorted. “I don’t think anypony…”

Lovely picked up the entertainment section in her magic. Flipping it around to face Measured, she recited it from memory. “When an author takes up her pen to write, she must consider whether she has the experience to successfully navigate the rough waters of perspective. As far as L.P. Rose is concerned, experience and perspective are clearly lacking. The stilted way the author constructed and executed her protagonist and his world is unbelievable to the point of fantasy.”

Measured’s brows slowly returned to their normal state. “Well, they still didn’t say hackneyed and forced…”

“That was the Canterlot Courier Times, Mez.” She said.

Measured waved a hoof. “The reviewer at CCT is always harsh on Barleyquin novels.”

Lovely looked down at the next paper, apparently holding a bundle of newspapers. “Then there’s also—“

Measured stood and walked around his desk. “Lovely! You’re a straight mare writing about a gay pony with explicit sex scenes! Did you not consider the possibility of some negative feedback?”

“Some, yes! Practically everypony? No!” Lovely replied.

Without looking, Measured levitated a sheet from his desk and flew it over to Lovely. “Well, take a look at the sales.”

Lovely’s magical glow took the page slowly. “Are you trying to cheer me up or make sure I never write again?”

Measured snorted. “Trust me, Lovely.”

“Fine, let me see…” Running a hoof down the page, she found her book and went over to the sales column. “Mez?”

Measured shrugged. “Still here, Love.”

Her eyes were fierce as she turned her gaze on him. “These numbers…you didn’t do anything funny just to make me feel better?”

“Lovely, I wouldn’t lie to you about stuff like this. This is business.” Measured started back around to his chair.

Lovely spluttered. “But these…I couldn’t have…”

“Written the fifth best selling Barleyquin novel of the quarter? Yes. Yes, you did.” He said as he sat again. Steepling his fore hooves on his desk, he turned a grin towards his sister.

“But, the reviews…”

Measured shook his head. “You’ll find that some of those ponies who loudly proclaim their disgust tend to keep a…let’s say healthy amount of smutty novels under the bed.”

“Mez, I love you.” She launched herself across the desk to hug him round the neck.

Surprised by the sudden outburst, he patted her on the back. “Expand your social circle. It’ll help with the experience and perspective. Then go write me the best selling Barleyquin novel. Okay?”

Leaning back, she caught his gaze. “How do you suggest I go about expanding my social circle?”

“The younger notables and nobles tend to prefer different activities than their parents. Ones without guest lists.” He lifted an eyebrow.

Lovely smiled. “Where’s the party and when do I crash it?”

Measured threw a flier at her.

“Oh, and Lovely.” She turned around, eyebrows raised. “I told you so.”

“Way to ruin the moment, Mez.”

“It’s what I do.”

The garden party was…different than the ones Lovely usually attended. For one, the liquor flowed much more freely. Then there was the music, the rhythmic groove a welcome change from the classical arrangements. Finally, the attendees ranged in age only by a few years in either direction from Lovely’s age.

Celestia's sunsets were alarmingly beautiful when one paid enough attention to notice. It wasn’t just the gold and crimson that burned bright. Subtle purples, the interplay with the cloud coverage, and the fine attention to timing made this sunset one of the most amazing Lovely ever witnessed. Amongst the hustle and bustle of the party, Lovely took a break on a bench to admire the waning illumination.

“I’m sorry to disturb you, miss, but is this seat taken?” The low tenor at her ear was almost too soft. Lovely turned her head to take in her would-be benchmate. Standing close at hoof, the stallion cut an imposing figure at first. His black coat and tail practically drew the light in around him. A shock of white hair in his dark mane didn’t seem to be from age, but neither was it unnaturally whitened. Had it not been for his kindly, yet intense, eyes Lovely would’ve been frightened into silence.

With a blink, she realized she’d been staring for too long. The stallion actually started to turn away when she got control of herself and called out. “Oh, wait! No, this seat’s not taken. Would you please join me?”

As he turned back, she caught a hint of a fading smile on his face. When he’d taken the empty seat she turned back toward the sunset, her face strangely warm in spite of the night’s slight chill. She thanked good breeding that her coat was red; she had to be blushing like a filly.

The stallion cleared his throat. His voice seemed somewhat strained as he spoke. “Um, forgive me again. My name is Second. Oh, um, Second Story that is. I’m an architectural student at the college here in Canterlot. Might I have the pleasure of your name?”

She smiled at his charmingly antiquated formality. “You may. I’m Lovely.”

Her throat caught as she made to continue. Lovely blamed the pollen; she’d definitely been out here too long. She grimaced, expecting the usual ‘I’ll say' response that she got at some of these horrid parties. When he didn’t take the obvious opening, she glanced at him. The intense look had returned, but faded away again as soon as he realized she looked at him.

Turning away again, Lovely decided to flirt. “I think I love the sunsets in Canterlot the most.”

“Have you been to many other places then?” He asked, his voice pleasant.

“I’ve seen Vanhoover, Baltimare, and Manehatten. Too much space, too old a space, and not enough space, respectively. Here in Canterlot the sunset seems so…intimate. It’s as if the city and the sun are lovers. At the end of the day, the sun casts its rays as if it were taking the city into its arms.” She glanced back to Second, his head tilted to one side and his eyes unreadable.

She regarded him fully. When it became clear he would continue staring, she looked down at her hooves. “I suppose that seems odd to most ponies. It’s a work hazard, I’m afraid. I’m a romance novelist.” She looked back up with the admission and caught his gaze again. If she had to describe it, she’d say it was almost like Second was looking for something.

“Are you always this chatty?” She asked when she found her breath again.

The stallion shook himself. “My apologies. I-I should go. I’m here with a friend and if I’m not watching him, he’ll probably—“ He was caught off by a loud whooping and the sound of a large splash in one of the garden pools. “—get into trouble. Excuse me one moment.” He actually waited for her nod before rising and walking up the path.

From up the path, she heard his voice. “Deadline! I’m not bailing you out this time!”

Even farther away, she heard the reply. It was definitely not the sort of thing one usually heard at a garden party. Nor in polite society. Second walked back stiffly, his muzzle a mixture of emotions.

“That was your friend, I take it?” She asked with a smile.

He nodded curtly. “Yes. For a pony named Deadline, he has a habit of cutting loose.” In the distance, they heard the sound of glass shattering. “Too loose.”

Lovely laughed, earning a small smile from the stallion. “Makes life interesting, I suppose.” She gestured invitingly back to his seat. He nodded and took it.

A beat of silence fell between them. Lovely’s blush thankfully didn’t make a comeback, so she took the opportunity to do some staring of her own. With the sun nearly set, Lovely saw him in a new light. His coat tended towards shaggy, his tail a bit too long and his mane wasn’t the kind of messy that took hours to achieve; it was just messy. Glass marks indented his muzzle; idly Lovely wondered why he wasn’t wearing them. In spite of his company, he seemed ill-at-ease. Second’s posture just this side of slouching and his brow furrowed.

“May I venture a few guesses, Mr. Story?” He looked at her, brow slightly less furrowed. When he nodded, she continued, shifting slightly closer. “If my guess is correct, you were dragged here by your aforementioned friend, Deadline was it?”

Another nod. She slipped in closer, as if conspiring. “Right. He practically had to pull you out by your tail after removing your glasses. By my guess, you only have a slight visual impairment, but without your glasses ponies tend to think of you as rather…severe. Am I close so far?”

A nod. “Remarkably.” She could practically feel his breath as he spoke the word and yet she came closer.

Lovely beamed. Second seemed to notice their proximity at last. “You spent this entire party regretting your every association with Mr. Deadline until you saw a certain mare gazing at the sunset. Failure would be embarrassing, but you screwed your courage to the sticking place and succeeded. So you came to talk to her and now you’re Second…guessing.”

As her shoulder bumped his, he let out a shaky laugh. “Nice pun. I can hardly be blamed for my interest. A mare who references MacBridle is well worth the effort.”

She looked deeply into his eyes and leaned in. He closed his eyes, expecting a kiss that didn’t come. When he opened them again, she was back on her side of the bench. “Well, your turn.” She smiled challengingly.

Spurred on by courage he hadn’t known he possessed, Second nodded. “By your own admission, you’re a romance novelist.” She nodded and suppressed a laugh as he scooted over an inch towards her. “You’ve been many places, but call Canterlot home. You must have published a book soon…” She winced, turning away.

“…but it didn’t do as well as you wanted. With you, Lovely, it seems the question is why are you here? Ah-ah!” He interrupted her with a hoof to her lips as she turned back towards him. Only then did she realize he’d come closer when she’d turned away. “This is still my turn.”

“I’ve been dragged to every party this season and unless I was hallucinating or horribly ill-fated, I’ve never seen you before. So you’re not usually one for the…young society crowd, shall we say? So to answer the question posited by your presence, one must return to your line of work. Authors watch ponies, don’t they? They watch how ponies interact; how a lone pony acts when he thinks no one’s watching.”

It was Lovely’s turn to nod, her eyes wide as his drew ever closer. “You're here for the experience, Lovely. I hope this measures up to your expectations.”

As if in slow-motion, his lips crossed down to hers. In as many seconds, she realized she’d never actually kissed anypony. All she had was the words of others about how it all felt. Just then, she knew how inadequate those words were. Like a dam bursting, she flowed into the kiss. In the moment, she gave herself no time to worry if he would care about her skill. Instead, she gave herself free rein. For his part, Second seemed happy and responsive.

Only when her lungs threatened to burst did she separate her lips from his. He panted just as plainly as she; his breath wonderfully ticklish on her neck. Lovely nearly laughed in the giddy rush of hormones and air-deprivation.

“My name is Lovely Prose. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

“I should hope so!”

Comments

[The Forgotten Comrade]

Well that was quick.

[TheAmazingMe]

6694104 ain't it tho?

[The Forgotten Comrade]

6694278
Indeed. Damn good though.

[TheAmazingMe]

6694285 My heartfelt thanks! Comments are great motivators.

[The Forgotten Comrade]

6694301
Well I wouldn't want you to stop so I'm gonna keep commenting.

[Skarsnik]

Dawwn. I really love Lovely, she is a lovely loving mare.