An artist's lament

{ch2, part 1, by Ray10k}
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[i]A little under two weeks later…[/i]
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The sun rose again, like it did every morning. And, just like every morning before it for the last couple of years, Mossy went through his usual routine.

Try (and fail) to ignore the start of a new day, get over how comfortable the bed is, stumble over to the bathroom, get at least a little representable for the coming day, make coffee, grab the newspaper, skim the headlines.

“[size=20][b]Reign of Queen Tyranny over![/b][/size]”
 the headline read, followed by an article on how the entity Order had lost herself to her namesake, followed by a (barely believable) account on how the Elements of Harmony had saved the day yet again. The other headlines were all about the new stained glass window in Canterlot’s hall of fame, an interview with the mysterious Unicorn Justitia who had shown up after the incident, another interview with a certain stallion calling himself the Doctor, who claimed the barrier was not going to collapse anytime soon, and the ever dropping prices of cabbage (a subject Mossy followed with interest.)

With his body finally reaching a state most would at least call, “somewhat awake,” the artistically inclined Earth pony began making plans for the day. Ever since the incident got resolved, artists were in high demand (Mossy suspected that Tyranny enforcing a common “look” had something to do with that.) As such, his finances were looking up for a change as he actually had to decline clients on account of not having enough time for all the requests and commissions he was getting recently.

Grabbing the state-issued agenda (one of the few good things to arise from Tyranny’s short reign,) Mossy went through his plans for the day. A few meetings with some local clients, a single session to get some sketches going for a portrait, followed by at least an hour of free time before he’d have to get started on dinner. A busy yet rewarding day.

As he grabbed his saddlebags, he saw something shimmer in the light flowing through the windows. Bending down, he chuckled as he recognized the small gemstone set in the insignia, as his thoughts wandered to the other “good”  thing to come from those days of Tyranny.

{ch 2, part 2, by Kryxel}

☼ {how do you do that by the way so i dont have to copypaste?} {copy-paste.}
{perhaps add a line where he wonders what that "one other "good" thing" is? Right now, the change is rather abrupt.}
Mossy blinked{... his eyes closed: remove this?} as he tried to remember what had happened in the last week.

First, the murder/ {or} banishment of {Princess} Celestia and {Princess} Luna... no one has {Nopony had} found the bodies {or any evidence of their whereabouts} yet.

Then, the sudden appearance of Tyranny {Alicorn, a mix of blue and pink mane/tail.}

The revelation of Order's power through Tyranny... and what else{?}.

Mossy opened his eyes and glanced out the window. The houses all identical. The ponies as well.
Their coat and manes dyed to be exact replicas of Tyranny{'s}. Even their cutiemarks were re-branded. {branded to what?}

Mossy blinked. Something seemed... off.

Something out of the corner of his eye.

What was it.... THERE!

A flash of pink bounded around a house.
Mossy blinked again, pink was never seen. It was just not possible.

He set down his coffee and looked at the paper again, hoping to distract himself from the impossibility.

WAKE UP! read the headline in bright pink crayon.

And that's what Mossy did.

"AHHH!" Mossy bolted upright and breathed{panted? Gasped for breath?}. His mind flashed over the nightmare where everypony was the exact same.

He sat in his bed, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He glanced over at the clock, midnight exactly.
with a yawn he hopped out of bed to double check his reality.

The many different cottages of ponies {Ponyville?} spread out from his window, and even at this time of night he could see some ponies wandering around.

"by Luna's bushy black beard... what was that dream about?" he asked {muttered? Asked himself?} wondering why {Princess} Luna would grant him such a horrible vision.
{ch 2, part 3, by Ray10k}
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Noting once more how everypony was unquestionably distinct from anypony else (save for the occasional matching mane,) Mossy shook his head as the last remnants of the dream drifted from his mind. "Guess that hay wasn't as fresh as I though after all, better get some new hay tomorrow."

Turning his back on the window, Mossy trotted back to his bed and closed his eyes, trying to get back to sleep since dawn was still several hours away. However, try as he might, he found sleep eluding him only barely, images of an endless parade of sky-blue Earth ponies led by an Alicorn of the same hue breaking through his calm every time he started drifting off.

After what felt like many hours of tossing and turning, Mossy had had enough. "Fine! If I can't sleep, I might as well get up!" Jumping out of the bed and stealing a glance at the clock, he couldn't help but groan. One hour of fruitless tossing and turning, while he should have been sleeping. Sighing, he prepared himself for a long day that couldn't end soon enough.

Still, despite the early hour, routine remained important, so Mossy set off to do his usual morning chores. Washing up, he couldn't keep himself from chuckling a little. Finally woke up before the merchants did for a change.

After finishing the rest of his usual routine, Mossy came to a startling, upsetting discovery: the newspaper would not be delivered for several more hours. Mossy shrugged to himself. 'Might as well work on that one commission.'

Finishing the last drips of his cup of coffee, Mossy put the cup in the sink before making his way over to the storage-room-turned-atelier,  taking a close look at the large canvas currently occupying the easel. While the contract for the painting had only been signed the day before, Mossy had made good progress on the life-sized portrait of the Canterlot noble. Taking another look at the sketches he had made (thankfully, the noble had been willing to sit still unlike far too many of his past clients,) Mossy nodded to himself again, before grabbing a tube of light-blue paint... and stopping himself suddenly.

'No, hold on. His coat was purple, not blue! Gah, that dream messed me up more than I thought...'

Reaching for the right colour this time, Mossy prepared the slightly slanted side table he used as a palette for his work and got started. However, the dream of that night still refused to let go of him, and as time went on, he repeatedly found himself nearly painting the mane of the portrait pink instead of the lavender hue it should have been.
{ch 2, part 4, by Kryxel}
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{here you go. Let me see what you do with it ;-)}