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Organised by
RogerDodger
Word limit
400–750
Tea and Pastry
The bell rang, melodious, heralding both guest and gust of crisp autumn air, currents swirling throughout the cozy warmth of The Sheltered Nook. Vanilla Bean’s ear pricked and her eyes soon followed, well-practiced words of greeting dying upon her lips as she beheld her newest customer. It was impossible not to recognize her, not when her image so often adorned posters, textbooks, and everything else under the sun.
The Princess smiled at her. Vanilla Bean’s traitorous legs remained frozen, her veins ice, till sudden thaw as well-practiced routine took over. “Welcome,” she greeted, sinking into the comfortable blanket of habit. “Will you be dining alone?” A graceful nod from her customer, and Vanilla Bean led her across well-worn floorboards, each creak another greeting. Small, cozy, and homey, to warm both body and soul.
Vanilla Bean placed the menu, exchanged a few small words, and left to fetch water while the Princess levitated the laminated paper and began to read. Vanilla stared, though she knew she shouldn’t. The Princess was everything she was not. She did not end each day with sore, aching hooves from hours spent bustling table to table. She needn’t worry about making ends meet, about dealing with puffed-up nobles and too-busy businessponies for whom Vanilla Bean was just an accessory, barely a pony, mere wispy vapor swirling around their hurricane of self-importance. Vanilla returned with a pitcher, water, and began to pour, the clink of cubes in glass joining the wisps of conversation that refused to remain confined to one table at a time.
How glamorous would it be to live in the palace! To be waited on hoof and wing, to - Cold water on her hoof shattered her daydream, and she realized the glass had begun to overflow. “Oh, I am so sorry!” she stammered, and though the Princess assured her it was fine, Vanilla still insisted upon wiping the table dry.
The Princess requested a minute more to think, and so Vanilla left her, briefly confirming her other patrons were content, refilling glasses, taking one order for fresh coffee. Soon, the rich aroma of roasted beans was calming her frayed nerves. By the time she returned, the Princess was ready. She requested a simple pastry and tea, and Vanilla smiled, stepped away. Her steps were light, for now, the earlier pall of boredom gone. Debts, cares, worries, all lost in a pleasant daydream as she imagined taking tea in the palace gardens, or how a mere word could move mountains.
How wondrous would it be to travel from nation to nation, unconstrained, wielding the reins of power that kept Equestria peaceful and prosperous?
But no. A rattle of cup on saucer as she set the tea in place, pastry upon its own thin plate. She would remain in her small cafe and smaller apartment, and continue to dream of a more glamorous life. Perhaps sometime soon, she would find a new job, move onwards. Ponyville, or some other quiet hamlet, although she would regret leaving her friends.
For now, she felt grateful. This one morning was precious, a break in her ordinary life, the day she mingled with royalty. As she wiped crumbs and stains off empty tables, Vanilla Bean watched the Princess eat, and daydreamed of a different life.
Too soon, Celestia found herself bidding one last thank you to the waitress. A young mare, barely out of fillyhood, her whole life still open before her. The gentle clinking of bits upon the table, a sizable tip, one choice she could make with no fear of nagging voices, and perhaps out of apology, as well. There would be gossip. There always was. Why this cafe, and not another? Why not dine someplace more upscale? Every decision under the magnifying lens. Her kitchen staff with their doleful gaze, silently asking her why they weren’t good enough, when they slaved over each and every meal selected for her.
She scoffed. That was the problem. Selected. Primped. Prodded. This morning, she had stolen away from the gilded cage for a precious hour, but if she did not return soon, somepony would be along to fetch her. Best to choose to return while that luxury was still hers.
As Celestia fanned her wings and took to the sky, she thought one last time of the waitress. Young, unfettered, free to leave whenever she wished. Celestia flew home, and in the last few minutes she could call her own, she daydreamed of a simpler life.
The Princess smiled at her. Vanilla Bean’s traitorous legs remained frozen, her veins ice, till sudden thaw as well-practiced routine took over. “Welcome,” she greeted, sinking into the comfortable blanket of habit. “Will you be dining alone?” A graceful nod from her customer, and Vanilla Bean led her across well-worn floorboards, each creak another greeting. Small, cozy, and homey, to warm both body and soul.
Vanilla Bean placed the menu, exchanged a few small words, and left to fetch water while the Princess levitated the laminated paper and began to read. Vanilla stared, though she knew she shouldn’t. The Princess was everything she was not. She did not end each day with sore, aching hooves from hours spent bustling table to table. She needn’t worry about making ends meet, about dealing with puffed-up nobles and too-busy businessponies for whom Vanilla Bean was just an accessory, barely a pony, mere wispy vapor swirling around their hurricane of self-importance. Vanilla returned with a pitcher, water, and began to pour, the clink of cubes in glass joining the wisps of conversation that refused to remain confined to one table at a time.
How glamorous would it be to live in the palace! To be waited on hoof and wing, to - Cold water on her hoof shattered her daydream, and she realized the glass had begun to overflow. “Oh, I am so sorry!” she stammered, and though the Princess assured her it was fine, Vanilla still insisted upon wiping the table dry.
The Princess requested a minute more to think, and so Vanilla left her, briefly confirming her other patrons were content, refilling glasses, taking one order for fresh coffee. Soon, the rich aroma of roasted beans was calming her frayed nerves. By the time she returned, the Princess was ready. She requested a simple pastry and tea, and Vanilla smiled, stepped away. Her steps were light, for now, the earlier pall of boredom gone. Debts, cares, worries, all lost in a pleasant daydream as she imagined taking tea in the palace gardens, or how a mere word could move mountains.
How wondrous would it be to travel from nation to nation, unconstrained, wielding the reins of power that kept Equestria peaceful and prosperous?
But no. A rattle of cup on saucer as she set the tea in place, pastry upon its own thin plate. She would remain in her small cafe and smaller apartment, and continue to dream of a more glamorous life. Perhaps sometime soon, she would find a new job, move onwards. Ponyville, or some other quiet hamlet, although she would regret leaving her friends.
For now, she felt grateful. This one morning was precious, a break in her ordinary life, the day she mingled with royalty. As she wiped crumbs and stains off empty tables, Vanilla Bean watched the Princess eat, and daydreamed of a different life.
Too soon, Celestia found herself bidding one last thank you to the waitress. A young mare, barely out of fillyhood, her whole life still open before her. The gentle clinking of bits upon the table, a sizable tip, one choice she could make with no fear of nagging voices, and perhaps out of apology, as well. There would be gossip. There always was. Why this cafe, and not another? Why not dine someplace more upscale? Every decision under the magnifying lens. Her kitchen staff with their doleful gaze, silently asking her why they weren’t good enough, when they slaved over each and every meal selected for her.
She scoffed. That was the problem. Selected. Primped. Prodded. This morning, she had stolen away from the gilded cage for a precious hour, but if she did not return soon, somepony would be along to fetch her. Best to choose to return while that luxury was still hers.
As Celestia fanned her wings and took to the sky, she thought one last time of the waitress. Young, unfettered, free to leave whenever she wished. Celestia flew home, and in the last few minutes she could call her own, she daydreamed of a simpler life.