Velvet Quill & Sunny Skies

by Sledge115

I ~ The Writer

I
The Writer

It is true, I never leave my house.

But it is true as well that its doors, whose numbers are endless, are open to every creature, and to every animal. Anyone may enter, at any time, whether the Sun or Moon is the one to stand above the doorway. They will find here no joy nor laughter, but they will find quiet and solitude.

And they will also find a house like no other on the face of this world – some claim there is such a house in Equestria, but they are lying.

Even those who are not my friends, and no-one is my friend, admit there is not one single piece of furniture in the house. Another lie is that I, Asterion, am a prisoner. Need I repeat there are no locked doors? Besides, one afternoon I did step into the street. If I returned before night fell, I did so because of the fear in the faces of common folk, faces as colourless and flat as the palm of my hand.

They are the ones who were afraid of me, I’m sure. I cannot have been afraid.

– From The Great Hall of Asterion

* * * * *

Eloquent. That was the sole word that came to Twilight Velvet’s mind, as she read the neatly-bound book twice, maybe even thrice over.

Perhaps it was simply that her editor’s eye had been left disused, in the time leading up to her return from maternal leave. Yet this had been a good month ago, shortly after New Year, and she’d finished her backlog in the last week, and no proofreader in the publishing house had needed to more than occasionally point her towards a misspelt word or misapplied term which may have escaped her gaze.

Upon her third reading, Velvet came to a conclusion; this latest in a long line of hopeful writers had a love of fancy writing, for better or for worse. Closer examination of the stack of submissions affirmed that what she’d seen was no trick of the eye. The fanciful little book had been placed in the children’s queue.

It wasn't pretentious, no – as a matter of fact, Velvet found it an interesting glimpse into Minotaur culture, from the meaning behind a Minotaur’s nose-ring to the story itself, a retelling of the great Asterion's quest to build a hall so large it would encompass the stars.

In all likelihood, ‘Sunny Skies’ had simply got lucky that Sealed Scroll was Head Publisher now. Some part of Velvet wondered how he’d have reacted to this, a thought which struck her as faintly amusing. He could be so very particular with word choices, especially for newer authors. Perhaps that was why the rest of the Editorial Board had sent her this after some discussion, with a note to go along with it that left the final decision to her.

She sighed, leaning back into her chair. It had felt good to spend six months away from everything, with all her attention drawn towards her daughter. Still, there was some comfort in returning to the old routine, and she thanked her lucky stars that dear Night Light’s lighter workload – relatively speaking – meant he’d be able to spend longer hours at home.

Velvet shot a glance at the newest framed family photo set upon her desk – the one of her cradling little Twilight Sparkle in her living room, flanked by a beaming Night Light, and Shining Armor who looked as if he’d rather be anywhere else.

‘Shining can take care of himself… Stars, I hope I’ve left enough in the fridge for Twily.’

Being Editor-in-Chief had its perks, however, and it brought some relief to Velvet when she noted that her own office was properly supplied, at least, with a mini-fridge for emergencies. Both for her and for Twilight, if need be. Such practicality commingled with decoration, in the form of the obligatory large, lush tropical plant sporting fan-like leaves by the door – because if she was honest with herself, Velvet never could remember its name. A more genuine source of periodic relaxation presented itself in the smell of fresh books stacked along the shelves.

Every so often, Velvet gave the rotary phone a shifty look. Perhaps she ought to call home, around this time. Shining had been a fussy colt, and who knew what sort of trouble he went through now as a schoolboy. Back in the day, she could rely on the office to give her a heads-up, which had drawn some awkward stares. These days, now that she effectively was the office, she hoped Twilight would remain a quiet filly, far likelier to be buried in those books that she outgrew so quickly.

But not all children were like Twilight. And speaking of books, Velvet’s attention was drawn back to the one before her. For duty called, once more, and answer it she would. She was no writer, yet her quill stood at the ready.

‘To Ms. Sunny Skies,’ she began. ‘We thank you for your submission, and for choosing Hoovesbury Publishing. Although we find your story to be an engaging one, it is with regret that we must inform you that, for now, we have decided not to…‘

The rest of the letter went by without conscious effort. She’d done this so often that it felt like tradition, for only one-in-ten proved acceptable enough for Equestria’s finest publisher of children’s literature. However, right before the rejection letter was to disappear from her view, going down the chute, Twilight Velvet made sure to stamp the folder containing the manuscript with the word, written in green ink, ‘Promising’.

But after that, she moved on to the next draft, and thought nothing of it for the rest of the day.

* * * * *

Three days after she’d sent the letter, there was a knock at Velvet’s office door.

Now, this was nothing out of the ordinary. Her work may have had her spend endless hours in front of typewriters under candlelight, yet it did not preclude her from visits. Often, it was an intern asking her where they’d stored most of their ink, publicists asking her to look over their latest press statements, or literary agents asking her what the delay was in getting their clients’ books on the shelves.

Or a writer coming without an appointment.

“Come in,” Velvet replied, without looking up from her letter. The door swung open, and in came her visitor.

“Hello!” the visitor spoke, feminine voice melodious and cheery. “Are you Miss Velvet?”

Velvet glanced up, pausing her writing. The pegasus mare that stood before her couldn’t have been older than twenty-five. Pale alabaster coat and feathers, with a bright pink mane and tail long enough to nearly touch the wooden floor. She carried on her a pair of heavy-looking saddlebags, yet this did not seem to weigh her down.

“Yes?” replied Velvet. “I am. And you are…?”

She’d hoped her tone didn’t betray her weariness, though the mare didn’t seem to notice.

“Sunny Skies,” the mare smiled. “I submitted my draft the other day. Did you get to read it?”

So bold, so eager. The name rang a bell, and here Velvet remembered the archaic words she’d held between her hooves those three days ago.

‘Fresh out of university, are you now?’ Velvet let out a sigh before she could help it.

Linguistics seemed likely, going by Sunny Skies’ antiquated choice of words in writing, though the mare gave little impression of that. If anything, her appearance made Velvet think of an overly excitable arts major. The mare’s mark of a sun sporting sunglasses supported the theory.

“We have, yes,” answered Velvet. “However, I meant to ask. Did you mean to submit it in the children’s literature queue?”

“Of course!” said Sunny. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Velvet’s words died in her throat. “Oh,” was all she could say. “I, um… Right.”

“Is this a bad time?” said Sunny, and here Velvet realised she’d been staring for too long. “I’m sorry, I could come by some other day. I wanted to talk about the letter you sent.”

Velvet waved her off hastily. “No, no, it’s alright, just take a seat. You’ve come this far.”

“My home is pretty close by, actually, but… Anyway, thank you,” said Sunny. She walked over to the chair opposite Velvet’s, snugly seating herself. “Nice office, by the way. I like your chair.”

Her build was no more than average, Velvet could tell, yet she seemed an odd fit, from the way she tucked her wings tightly against her body.

“Ah, thank you,” said Velvet. “My apologies, we usually get replies in the mail, so this is a little unexpected, even with our open-doors policy.”

And even with an open-doors policy, as well, Sunny Skies would still have needed to get past the building’s receptionist and Velvet’s personal secretary. As easy and unannounced an access as this suggested she must have charmed the socks off them.

Velvet held back a small smile, but on the inside, she couldn’t help a slight lamentation at how Equestria’s easy-going culture made the job just that bit harder for bureaucrats such as herself, who were a perennial target of gentle ribbing. To her, they felt no more properly appreciated than anywhere else in the world for the unexciting yet vital work they did.

Sometimes, the Royal Apartments of Canterlot Palace seemed like the only place in Equestria requiring proper appointment to enter, and still it was downright casual by global standards.

“I understand. It’s just that direct contact, I thought, would be nicer.”

Velvet nodded along, still feeling a touch unsure. “I see. Right, I… well, best to get right at it. Miss Skies, let me preface this by saying that you’ve written a lovely adaptation of a Minotaur mythological epic–”

“Actually,” interrupted Sunny, clearing her throat, “it’s more of a legend. It’s widely believed that Asterion was a historical figure from the Tauren Isles. Oleandrite travellers often hear about their legends in passing, you see.”

Oh, Celestia. She was a history major, for sure.

“Right, legend,” Velvet amended herself, dearly hoping she wasn’t sounding sarcastic at all. “Anyway, my point is, it’s richly written, beautifully illustrated, and deeply rooted in linguistic traditions, which is no small feat, and that is commendable by itself.”

“Thank you,” Sunny said brightly. Then her smile faded into a frown. “But… what seems to be the issue?” Somehow, she looked paler still, holding a hoof up to her mouth. “Oh, dear, how boring was it?”

“No, actually,” said Velvet. “As I’ve said, the quality is unquestionably good, at minimum. But…”

“But…?”

“It’s… quite above the reading level of your target audience,” said Velvet, carefully. It was probably Sunny’s eyes that made it hard to say this out loud to her – those wide, pleading magenta eyes. “Miss Skies,” she added, with all the sincerity that she could muster. “My son is nine years old and I’m fairly certain he cannot spell ‘indefatigable’, let alone pronounce it.”

Sunny’s ears drooped. “Oh, I see,” she said, voice a little shaky.

“Furthermore,” said Velvet, feeling her heart sink further, “Very few children have the attention span to go into all the intricacies of the world presented. It might be a better fit for, well, our young adult line–”

Almost as soon as she’d said it, Velvet regretted it. Why had she said it, she wondered, when it was plain as day for whom Sunny had intended her little manuscript, from the lush colours to the gentle way she had written her cursive.

“Miss Skies?”

“Maybe this was a mistake,” Sunny said quietly. “I’ll… think of something else to present.” She stood up. “Again, thank you for your time. I’ll be on my way.”

‘Stars above, why does this have to be so hard…’

It always seemed easier over letters, writing words with little emotion behind them. Clean, professional, and ever-so-slightly cold. That was the case for plenty of letters she’d sent before.

“Wait,” Velvet said, standing up from her own seat.

Sunny paused at the door, hoof stretched out to open it. She turned around, looking puzzled.

“I didn’t say you shouldn’t write about it, though,” Velvet added. “Very few children have the attention span, true. But it is, frankly, well within my job to help you with that.”

“Really?”

Velvet nodded firmly. “Of course.” She opened her drawer, bringing out Sunny’s book. “This is your first manuscript, correct?”

“Mhm,” Sunny replied. “Well, I mean, I’ve written stories before. A lot. But yes, this is the first one I’ve submitted in years.”

“Alright,” said Velvet. “I understand that this may be new to you. But rest assured, this is not a full rejection. I have to ask, do you still want to write for children?”

“Absolutely,” said Sunny, growing as bright as when she’d first stepped in. “And don’t worry, Miss Velvet. I appreciate your honesty. It’s what I was looking for in an editor.”

“Then I’ll give your draft here a look-over, suggest a few changes, and I’ll send it back to you first, how does that sound?”

“Oh, sure thing! And is it alright if I come back?” asked Sunny. “I mean if it isn’t okay then, that’s fine too. But I feel it’d be better if we just talked about it, face to face? For clarity’s sake, um.”

Velvet thought about this for a moment. “Sure?” she said. “Do you not have an agent?”

“Huh? Do I need one?”

“It’s what most authors do,” said Velvet. She shook her head. “But it’s no real hassle. At any rate, I’m usually at the office, unless I’ve stated otherwise.”

“Great! Thanks, Miss Velvet, I’ll see you next time.”

“Likewise, Miss Skies.”

* * * * *

For Twilight Velvet, the rest of the day went by rather uneventfully, to put it lightly, from the moment Miss Skies had departed her office. There came another round of reading, office gossip here and there before the new and modern water dispenser, keeping an eye out for the interns to make sure they were gaining legitimate work experience, all the usual activity. Nothing out of the ordinary was at the forefront of her mind as she unlatched the gate that led to her quaint residence, walking right to the front door in the balm of an early Spring evening.

Little existed to set her home apart from the other houses on Lunar Row. It boasted the standard two storeys, two windows on each floor, and a well-kept garden as their front yard. A visit to the neighbours’ places, once every so often, had told her that the same staircase and wooden floor would greet her in every other house of this little neighbourhood.

But it was still her family’s, which meant the world to Velvet.

“I’m home,” she announced simply, and a touch wearily, brushing her hooves upon the recently-cleaned doormat.

Having done so, now that she was home and no longer had to concern herself so much about looking her very best, Velvet delicately removed the pearl necklace that Night Light had offered her so many years ago, and idly slipped it into a waiting coat pocket. She would come back later to put it in its proper place, within the embroidered box on her vanity.

Upon the rack by the front door, there still hung the family’s coats in their different sizes, which no-one had yet had the heart to take down since the Winter Wrap-Up.

Gladdening to Velvet’s heart, as always for these past few years, was the answer that came when her husband poked his head out from their living room.

“Hey,” said Night Light. He emerged in full, not a hair out of place, with what passed for a cool little smile. “How was work, Velv?”

“Same old, same old,” answered Velvet, giving him a quick peck. “I guess that’s better than… I don’t know, I’m tired.”

Night Light gave her a soft nuzzle. “The kids miss you too, you know.”

“Hope they weren’t too much of a hoof-ful,” said Velvet. “Are you sure you can keep up?”

“Nah, nah, I’ve got this,” answered Night Light. “Just like I got it all handled with the Academy. These days, all it takes is a little enchantment, and you’d swear books just archive themselves. You just focus on what you gotta do, I got the kids. And hey– don’t fret about the milk, it didn’t run out this time, let me tell you right now. Twilight’s been quiet as a mouse.”

“Thanks a bunch, Booky. You’re a lifesaver,” said Velvet.

Side by side, they entered the living room together. By the fireplace, Shining was off reading one of his comics, seemingly that month’s edition of Power Ponies. So was his sister, engrossed in material of a rather different calibre. Twilight Sparkle, seven months and counting, was busily diving into their open phonebook, disproportionately large against their coffee table.

“Hey kids, Mom’s home!” Night Light exclaimed, with an exaggerated, sweeping gesture. Yet neither looked up from their books.

“Hi Mom,” said Shining, barely looking up from his comic.

Twilight, for her part, simply managed a tiny ‘harrumph’, so deep was she in reading rows of names and numbers.

“Miss me, huh, Booky?” Velvet said, glancing at Night Light.

“You know kids these days.”

Then Shining laughed. “Hehe, Booky… Can I call you Booky, Dad?”

“No, Shining,” Velvet said sternly. “That’s Mom’s word.”

“Awww…” said Shining, displaying as much exaggerated dismay as only a colt could. He went back to reading, with a growing pout.

“He’ll get over it,” said Night Light, shrugging. “Thanks for the save, though.”

“You owe me,” Velvet teased him.

“Audacious,” he replied, shaking his head. “I’ll get you something warm in a sec.”

Another kiss, and off he went to the kitchen. Sighing, Velvet sauntered off to her comfort chair.

“Hey, Twily,” said Velvet, after a moment. Her daughter looked up at her, tilting her head. Then she patted the phone book she was reading.

“Book!” she exclaimed. Velvet let out a laugh, giving the filly’s head a ruffle.

“Yes, book, Twilight,” answered Velvet. From her bag, she withdrew Sunny’s draft. “Here you go, Twily, have another.”

“Ooooh,” said Twilight. “Book!”

With both hooves, she accepted it, and off she went to read her newest treasure.

“I see someone’s outsourcing their job?” said Night Light from all the way at the kitchen counter, his aura wrapped around two teaspoons stirring two cups of coffee.

“Oh, knock it off,” Velvet replied, rolling her eyes. “Now I’ve got to figure out what to trim.”

“Aha, a toughie.”

“Yeah, pretty much,” said Velvet, massaging her temples. “Not every day a book needs a dictionary by the side. I’ll say again, she’s lucky I got to her first. Scroll’s way more keen on the in-depth approach and he’d have a field day dissecting it, and that’s not guaranteeing he’ll even accept it.”

Levitating a tray, Night Light came to sit himself across from her, giving her a tender gaze.

“That bad, huh?” he said.

“Probably. I don’t know. I’ll have to read it again when I’m not running on coffee,” said Velvet, taking a long sip out of her cup. “You’re not helping, by the way, because this, this is the good shhh– stuff. Good stuff.”

“Only the best, honey,” Night Light replied, making no show of checking whether Shining Armor had noticed his mother’s almost-slip. “Guess you’ll be breaking someone’s heart later.”

“Don’t say it like that,” Velvet bemoaned. “Look, she’s tried so hard, I can tell. Fresh out of university. It was pretty obvious. I wish I could tell her she didn’t need to try so gosh-darn hard on her first go.”

“But that’s exactly why she’s done it,” Night Light surmised. “I don’t suppose it was bad either.”

“It wasn’t, that’s the thing. I actually did enjoy reading it, but… kids, you know. They can be quite particular… ” Velvet set her cup down, leaning back with crossed forehooves. “I come back after six months and–”

Her words were interrupted by the poke of tiny hooves.

“Mama, mama!” said Twilight, punctuating her words with determined prodding.

“Yes, Twilight, what is it?” said Velvet at last, ignoring Night Light’s muffled laugh.

The filly pointed at Sunny’s draft. She’d reached halfway through, the visage of mighty Asterion painted on one page opposite the text. “Want more.”

Velvet blinked. “...You want more of this?” she repeated. Her daughter nodded with glee, flipping the current page back and forth.

“I– want– more!” she cried, giggling. Her gaze had returned to the book, eyes wide as she panned over the richly-drawn water-colours. “Book!”

Night Light looked at Twilight, then her book, then back at Velvet. “Well, looks like there’s hope yet for your client, don’t you think, Velv?”

“Alright,” said Velvet, giving Twilight’s mane a ruffle. “Let’s get you more.”

* * * * *

To Ms. Sunny Skies,

Your story, ‘The Great Hall of Asterion’, was brought to the Editorial Board’s attention at our most recent meeting. With the opinion of the Board accounted for, and after further consideration, we are delighted to inform you that it has been shortlisted for publishing.

The story of Asterion is a treasured yet unfortunately little-known tale in Equestria, and your impeccable adaptation is sure to draw many young readers into learning a foreign culture through its engaging prose and captivating art.

We would like to further discuss the terms and conditions, as well as your final approval, at your next available time.

Thank you for choosing Hoovesbury Publishing.

~ Twilight Velvet, Editor-in-Chief

Comments

[Sir Mediocre]

Oooh. This is a neat diversion from the usual shenanigans that occur when Sunny Skies passes through town.

[MatTheBook]

That was a nice start.

And we know who Sunny skies truly is

[Lurks-no-More]

Starting with a Jorge Luis Borges quotation (Equestri-fied or not)... well!

This is a very nice first chapter.

[GeorgeRipley]

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