Description:
The “reptile on a leash” is too prominent to ignore. Making your way toward it, you go past the pony that has the most colors you’ve seen so far. The ball bounces up and down, from her head to the air, and you notice the sound it makes falls in rhythm to the music. Because she’s concentrating on keeping the sphere from touching the ground, you go unnoticed. Plucks and strumming fills your ears as you approach the musician. Gold shimmers both from the magical aura and the lyre, as the strings move seemingly on their own. Lyra has her eyes closed, focusing on her instrument, with a soft look of relaxation across her minty face. The song ebbs and flows as time feels like it comes to a standstill. It’s like you can’t help but let it melt away your inner self. She must have been playing most of her life to get her tune so captivating.
The feeling clashes when you notice the pony in the stall has her eyebrows furrowed at you underneath her poofy bi-colored mane of cobalt and fuchsia. There are chocolates and other sweets on the counter top, but you press on toward the yellow pegasus. It doesn’t appear that the owner noticed your presence, and the gator has an unreadable expression as it stares off into the distance. You say something to grab attention. “Nice alligat-” That’s as far as you get before she turns around and sort of hunkers down and away with a quiet yelp. Green eyes look upward at you since she’s at such an awkward angle.
Waiting to see what’s going to happen, it’s evident that you’re going to have to make the first move. “That’s a nice alligator you have there, never really thought ponies would have one as a pet.” Slowly, a yellow hoof reaches around and scoops up the small animal close to her chest. A pair of wings unfurl and with a few flaps, she’s in the air, hovering in front of you at a safe distance. She seems too scared and on the edge, even having part of her mane cover half of her face doesn’t help. You’ve told yourself to try and be more social, perhaps you just need to try a little more. “…can I pet it?” With hesitation, the meek pony stops clenching the tiny green reptile so close. Taking that as a yes, you reach out.
It bites your hand.
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