Post by chesdere on May 24, 2015 19:36:49 GMT
A soft wind blew through the leaves and branches of the proud flora of the forest, shaking and rustling them to the tune of their own song. They swayed to the beat and allowed a melody of the wood to pass through the ears of wanderers, soothing them and allowing the soul to be at rest. The trees thrived beneath the beating sun and strived to catch it's kindred warmth, their roots keeping them grounded but their branches reaching for whatever was out there. There, beneath the swaying greenery and the proud oak woods was a pony, her creamy hide dappled by the moving shades of the trees she sheltered beneath.
Strawberyl Short Cake was her name, a name commonly misconceived for her to be related to the Cake family, already bakers residing in Ponyville. Strawberyl was in no way their kind, but how could anyone else have known? With her also being a maker of pastries, and with one of their new children being a unicorn quite like her, it was no wonder others could mistake her to be one of their own. She was not, of course, one of their own. She was a unicorn from Canterlot expected to uphold strong magical powers as a mark of where she was born and what she was born as, only to be fitted for a job commonly rooted to Earth Ponies. Oh, they all jeered at her, her peers. It was saddening, but the baker was infinitely happy that she would no longer have shoes to fill in her new home.
As for her reason of wandering the Pheasant Woods... As a baker, she enjoyed baking. Yet, without materials like apples, herbs, and other edible objects to put into her bakings, who would ever enjoy anything she made? She had no friends, no shop in the marketplace, but she did enjoy eating her own things, and the last thing the unicorn would enjoy doing was putting flavorless slop into her stomach. A red glow illuminated her horn and a basket she held beside her, her crimson optics going back an forth in obvious panic. While the scenery that surrounded her was beautiful, Strawberyl couldn't help but find it as enemies, jeering and staring at her mockingly in her own turmoil end state of mind.
Helplessly lost, she was. In her woven white basket sat not only lemons, apples, pears, and oranges, but also the torn, ripped up fragments of a map, hopelessly torn to uninterpretable remnants. The scarlet eyes of the mare grew even more tea tier with each step she took into the woods, her mind racing with thoughts along the likes of 'will I ever get home?' Or 'what if I'm just making myself even more lost?' The vanilla and red splotched unicorn just wanted to go back into Ponyville and sink into the the of her warm abode and delve into cooking, but her tormented thoughts weren't helping her case.
Strawberyl Short Cake was her name, a name commonly misconceived for her to be related to the Cake family, already bakers residing in Ponyville. Strawberyl was in no way their kind, but how could anyone else have known? With her also being a maker of pastries, and with one of their new children being a unicorn quite like her, it was no wonder others could mistake her to be one of their own. She was not, of course, one of their own. She was a unicorn from Canterlot expected to uphold strong magical powers as a mark of where she was born and what she was born as, only to be fitted for a job commonly rooted to Earth Ponies. Oh, they all jeered at her, her peers. It was saddening, but the baker was infinitely happy that she would no longer have shoes to fill in her new home.
As for her reason of wandering the Pheasant Woods... As a baker, she enjoyed baking. Yet, without materials like apples, herbs, and other edible objects to put into her bakings, who would ever enjoy anything she made? She had no friends, no shop in the marketplace, but she did enjoy eating her own things, and the last thing the unicorn would enjoy doing was putting flavorless slop into her stomach. A red glow illuminated her horn and a basket she held beside her, her crimson optics going back an forth in obvious panic. While the scenery that surrounded her was beautiful, Strawberyl couldn't help but find it as enemies, jeering and staring at her mockingly in her own turmoil end state of mind.
Helplessly lost, she was. In her woven white basket sat not only lemons, apples, pears, and oranges, but also the torn, ripped up fragments of a map, hopelessly torn to uninterpretable remnants. The scarlet eyes of the mare grew even more tea tier with each step she took into the woods, her mind racing with thoughts along the likes of 'will I ever get home?' Or 'what if I'm just making myself even more lost?' The vanilla and red splotched unicorn just wanted to go back into Ponyville and sink into the the of her warm abode and delve into cooking, but her tormented thoughts weren't helping her case.