Post by samcats on Dec 30, 2016 21:02:55 GMT
The Cloudsdale Colosseum was a behemoth. It towered over the cloud streets and all of the pegasi's cloud houses. The giant cloud building was used most every day, whether it be for meetings, Wonderbolt Training Performances, or the rare Flying Competitions. There were three main competitions held there: The Best Flier Competition, which catered to pegasi of all ages; The Best Young Flier Competition, which was specifically for young mares and stallions; and The Best Junior Flier Competition, which was for pegasi from school age to new adulthood. Today, the Best Junior Flier Competition was being held.
Glittering Veil shifted nervously from hoof to hoof as she waited in the wings for her name to be called. The midnight blue pegasus took a deep breath and forced herself to stop fiddling, instead opting to sit down and preen her wings. She spread one wing and began to straighten her feathers, pausing to glance down at the number sheet taped to her flank. Number 8. Number 6 had just gone out, which meant that there was only one more pony before Glit. The blue mare took another deep breath and moved on to her other wing, tugging out a single broken feather with a wince.
The pink and black maned pegasus glanced up as the sound of hooves touching down on clouds reached her ears. It was a sound too soft for most other ponies to hear, but a pegasus was accustomed to the sounds of other pegasi; just as only a unicorn could hear another unicorn use magic, only a pegasus could hear another pegasus using the clouds around them. Glit watched as the new pony trotted into the room and joined the other entrants. After giving them a thorough look over, Glit buried her muzzle in her wing once again and began to tug at any dishevelled feathers.
Glittering Veil shifted nervously from hoof to hoof as she waited in the wings for her name to be called. The midnight blue pegasus took a deep breath and forced herself to stop fiddling, instead opting to sit down and preen her wings. She spread one wing and began to straighten her feathers, pausing to glance down at the number sheet taped to her flank. Number 8. Number 6 had just gone out, which meant that there was only one more pony before Glit. The blue mare took another deep breath and moved on to her other wing, tugging out a single broken feather with a wince.
The pink and black maned pegasus glanced up as the sound of hooves touching down on clouds reached her ears. It was a sound too soft for most other ponies to hear, but a pegasus was accustomed to the sounds of other pegasi; just as only a unicorn could hear another unicorn use magic, only a pegasus could hear another pegasus using the clouds around them. Glit watched as the new pony trotted into the room and joined the other entrants. After giving them a thorough look over, Glit buried her muzzle in her wing once again and began to tug at any dishevelled feathers.