Introversion
I took a short breath of relief upon the sight of the empty docks. The meeting had been tremendously long, but that was to be expected and it wasn't the problem.
My hooves made little sound as they met the wood, something that had always surprised ponies even to this day. Thankfully there was no longer fear in my silent steps. My moon, which had been raised before I slipped away from the meeting's location, shone in the sky. Although it was a cool, clear night few ponies were out since it would be time for Tia to raise the sun in Canterlot not many hours from now. The last clock I had seen was the one within the mayor's office. It had read fifteen minutes after midnight and this was shown in the sky which was a deeper blue than my coat. Many ponies would look up and see only an extension of what they took to be a flat horizon before mumbling 'it's black' as their eyes returned to the ground. They could not fully understand the depth and richness of my night's light.
I love the sky as much as I love the ground, as always there is much to explore within these two places, the beautiful parallels that make up the realm Midgard. I cannot help but shudder when somepony acts like the sky is but a flat sheet on which pegasi arrange clouds. Both are vast and free and considerably less stuffy than the small offices the local mayors call their lair as their secretaries prowl about the reception areas, buzzing with repeated and unneeded questions.
If only Tia had been there. Even though the meeting went well she has a smile-and-wave way of handling these things that ponies love, and she has imprinted it thoroughly upon her Faithful Student, Twilight Sparkle. Tia smiles brightly at all of our subjects for hours and manages to talk just enough without merely making her words interrupted breath. I, on the other hoof, find myself simply sitting and listening to everything at these events. There, I choose only to speak when needed. There are no pointless pleasantries, just a quick and friendly greeting from myself.
All the chatter begins as I sit in a fierce sea of many wasted words. As a result, I am fishing like a bear in rapids for the few bits that matter as my presence forms an island of silence. Thankfully, I am no longer in what I can safely call the stuffiest office of the century. Here I stand, looking out on the ocean whose surface has captured some of my moon's silvery light. I watch as it is cradled on the water. There is so much to take peace in as I listen to the calm melody of the waves as my light shines like the few stars that hang out on the windy canvass of the richest indigo.
Out here, I can finally shake the feeling that comes from being around so many ponies for so long. This is perhaps the biggest reason why I wish Tia had come with me. She loves Baltimare, too! I'm not entirely sure why since the streets are a mess that could have been constructed by Discord himself if the city's founding date was not hundreds of years too late for such an occurrence. Celestia enjoys being around almost every sort of sapient being that walks this world. Meanwhile, I wish not to go through so much contact with ponies as Celestia enjoys, all without being given some form of personal space. Even now, so many ponies just talk and talk... but so few listen.
It is things like this that make me need room to breathe, something that only happens when I experience the peace brought by solitude. After all, solitude has no secretaries. Even if it did I'm quite sure that they would be sensibly silent like Raven instead of asking ten questions before I have time to even answer the first. Perhaps in that regard, Raven's stutter was a blessing.
Room to breathe. It's one of my favorite things, often because I find myself among the clouds to find this room. 'Tis a fine, if rare, thing. Wind whooshs through my ears and causes my mane to fly and caresses each feather. My hooves need no ground to walk on. I feel safe laughing so freely. Or maybe I will make no sound at all and travel nowhere without a word.
I look back up to the sky, if only there were more stars out tonight. Upon my arrival a few days ago, a little filly asked me if raise all the stars as well. She watched me with wide eyes as I told her that I didn't raise the stars, only the moon which ushered forth the darker curtain of sky that overtook Tia's day. Next, she asked me if I made the stars. I was about to tell her that stars are but suns that are very far away and that it would be impossible for me to raise each and every one, and that there was no way I would be able to make anything that would qualify as a sun. Her father told her to 'stop bothering the busy mare' followed by a quick 'I'm so sorry, Your Majesty'. That gave me no chance to explain to the little one that the planet she lived on was a geocentric one and that the theory of suns-as-stars was more plausible than whatever she was learning in school. As the only equine to have ever been among the heavens, I knew more than all the world's space-watchers and glossy textbooks.
If only the world were ready for such knowledge.
Could I make a star?
No, technically I cannot. A better question would be 'Can I make something like a star?'— and to that, the answer would be yes. Neither my sister nor I have the ability in the present to craft something so large and possibly unstable. Something close to it, something that can pull stardust and all the debris of space into place until it is drawn into a stellar nursery or even a proto-planet — given time! — was another matter entirely.
Aura makes its way onto my horn. Like a star I can do, a true star I cannot. The light gathers on my horn is growing and is no longer blue in color. I now have an orb the size of my hoof gathered there, blooming with all the life of true magic. Satisfied with my creation, I stop the spell and hold up a forehoof to keep the small light from drifting away before I can look it over. It isn't glowing very brightly right now, nor does it have a very intimidating size but it isn't supposed to, at least not yet.
Not for ages and ages to come — ages when I shall still be, too!
I do not see any flaws, and feeling quite pleased with my effort however small it may be. I nudge the light up into the sky where it might drift above this noisy city into a silent space where it will grow enough so that curious little fillies and colts might see it from the windows of their rooms and maybe pin a wish or two on it.
For that, I shall be glad.