The Multi-Dimensional OC Bar

"A cure to everything in existence, that's what I need. I'll tell you this right now though, you find a good mane color for me and I'll try it out while we're here." She said, sucking in a quarter of the alcoholic goodness before her.

Jon smiled.  "Dangerous words.  Never doubt the backpack of convenience."  As he spoke, his eyes began to shift, the bands of silver weaving together as Jon's magic activated.  He knew noone could see his hoof, hidden in the pack as it was, and so he used it to reach into wherever his unseen objects were kept, opening a hole exactly where he wanted it: right next to a few small bottles of dye.  He pulled them through, making it seem as though it was simply in the backpack to begin with.  Setting them on the table, he produced red, green, gold, blue, and an empty bottle labeled 'neon brown'.  He then reached for something else; he picked out a large, opaque bottle from the space, with the label scratched off.  Pulling it into view, he took a few long drinks, and set it down.  He smiled at Angel.  "I keep a makeup kit nearby at all times.  Right out of panacea, though.  Now, what color do you want?"

Angel Glow's eyes widened almost as quickly as they shrunk, as she watched Jon produce items from the so called 'Backpack of Convienience', "I... You... That... You choose." She said said as she continued to fail at forming a complete sentence.

Jon shook his head.  "This is your decision.  I can only make recommendations."  He started pointing at bottles, listing them off.  "Red lets you catch ponies' or non-ponies' eyes, draws attention to you."  He gestured to his own mane.  "Green makes you seem either energetic or look like a plant.  Maybe not that one.  Gold adds a bit of accent to your whites, makes it look regal.  Works for Celestia, eh?"  A grin, and then he kept going down the line.  "Blue can be bold or relaxed, depending on how much you use.  And neon gives you a quirky, lighthearted air.  Out of that, I'm afraid."  He smiled at the mare across from him.  "So, Angel, what'll it be?"

Leaning down Angel grasped the glass in both hooves and downed the entire thing, "Do you have a softer shade of dye?" She asked.

The door of the Bar creaks open softly. A yellow stallion, clothed from the neck down in a plain white cloak, steps in and takes a tentative look around. He smiles, ever so gently, at the two other ponies in the back booth, but makes no move to approach them. Instead, he trots up to Martini and asks, softly, "Could I have a glass of water?"

Martini smiles a knowing smile. "Are you related to Ician?"

"Ician?" The stallion shakes his head. "I don't know him, I'm afraid."

Martini nods and moves off to fetch the glass of water.

Jon nodded.  "We can pick how much dye we put in.  It's easier since you're a natural white."  He took another long drink from the unlabeled bottle.  "Now, which color would you like?"

The bar door opens and a grey thestral with a puffy red tail and a mess of a mane enters. The armor of the Lunar Guard which he once wore proudly is stuffed into a saddle bag over his back. Plodding to the bar, he sits heavily on a stool, dropping the bag at his hooves with a thump. Martini approaches the solemn new face.

"Can I getcha' anything?" she asks sweetly.

"A hard cider," mumbles the new comer, dumping a handful of bits onto the counter, "and keep 'em comin'." the bartender collects the coins and fetches his pint.

"Red?" She said a little indecisive as to if that was the correct choice to make. Her hooves shuffled a bit beneath her, drawing out statistics for next months weather schedule to balance out what had been planned for this one since it would be near harvesting season soon.

The cloaked stallion accepts his glass of water and notices the thestral newcomer. He opens his mouth, as if going to say something, but then quietly shuts it and begins to move to a table at the far end of the room.

Jon took a slow drink from the bottle, thinking.  He suddenly sat upright, a grin on his face.  "Ooh!  I might have some extensions in the backpack of convenience.  We could dye those, and see how the color works!"  He smiled at Angel, unaware of just how loudly he had stated his idea.  Quite loudly.

The cloaked stallion's ears perk up as he hears Jon's exclamation. A small smile spreads across his lips. He stands up and moves quietly over to the two of them.

"Excuse me." He says, softly. "I couldn't help but overhear that you wanted to test some dye? Perhaps I could assist with a simulation."

Jon turns to the new stallion, quickly sizing him up.  He smiled.  Time for a bit of fun, the drink told him, you can really confuse this one.  The androgynous stallion agreed with the drink, confusion was always amusing, and amused was the furthest you could get from bored.  They both agreed that they hated boredom.  So he changed the stressing on his voice and body language, falling into his female character.  "Oh, sure you can help!"  She extended a hoof in way of greeting.  "I'm June, this is Angel.  We're trying to decide what color Angel's hair should be."  She smiled at angel, in a way that said 'play along'.  She hoped the voice change wasn't too obvious, and thanked the figment blessings that her normal voice was as neutral as could be.

The stallion raises an eyebrow; he could have sworn that the voice he'd heard earlier was decidedly less feminine. Nonetheless, he plays along, giving a small bow. "Good morning, June, Angel. My name is Vision. I am a master-class illusionist." He smiles. "Well, perhaps 'master-class' is exaggerating slightly... but I am adept at illusions." He waves a hoof at Angel. "If you'd like, I could create a simulation of what she would look like with her chosen hair colour."

June oohed.  "That's a lot better than my plan."  She turned back to Angel.  "Why not?"

Vision smiles. "You might find, however, that my illusions are quite... immersive."

His horn flashes brightly. All at once, the dark booth of the Bar falls away, replaced by a grassy meadow. Sunlight shines brightly down upon the three of them, and delicate pink flowers sway in a breeze. The sweet smell of spring wafts up into the air.

He chuckles. "Very immersive, rather."

"Hello V- vision, it's nice t- to m- meet y- you." She managed to squel out before trying to shrink into a farther distance, instead traveling into the corner of the booth as far as she could from the large unicorn before her. Her eyes seemed to be traveling his cloaked form as if she were absorbing his exact size and weight even from her stare, body trembling ever so slightly.
   "Y- you s- said you w- wanted to h- help us w- with m- magic? T- this isn't w- what I had i- in m- mind, June?" She asked, saying June in a manor that could be translated to 'Your call'.

Vision blinks. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to intimidate you." His horn flashes again, and the darkened booth replaces the meadow. "My apologies."

June shuddered.  "Ohh, that was weird.  And awesome!"  She grinned at Vision.  "But all we really need is to be able to try the dyes."  She took a brief drink, and turned to Angel.  "How do you want the dye, anyway?  Streaks, tips, or full?"

Vision bows briefly. "Thank you. I do pride myself on my illusions, after all." He then falls silent, waiting for Angel's reply so he can conjure an appropriate illusion.

The thestral pops a rather sizable pill into his mouth and swallows it with a swig from his pint, blatantly ignoring the warning on the bottle. Rubbing at his aching head with a hoof, the stallion is thankful for the relative emptiness of the bar, even though the few patrons it has are rather noisy. Tagging another drink he attempts to ignore them and not draw attention to himself.

"Tips was all, a very faint reddish-pink would be nice." She said calming down. Folding into the seat and looking to the unicorn stallion waiting for him to work his magic in a literal sense.

"Tips was all, a very faint reddish-pink would be nice." She said calming down. Folding into the seat and looking to the unicorn stallion waiting for him to work his magic in a literal sense.

A small slap against the wall can be heard as the newest patron of the bar walks in. He is rather unassuming, wearing a grey hoodie over his sandy tan coat. A pair of square frame glasses adorn his face, drawing attention to his calculating emerald eyes. Perched on his shoulder, a mechanized owl scans the room. Tinker Tock walks up to the bar, saying nothing. All he needed was a drink, any drink, to stave off the wave of depression washing over him.

Vision's horn glows. Bit by bit, a ghostly image of Angel with the necessary adjustments manifested itself in the air. He closed his eyes, concentrating, and the image solidified and sank to the floor.

"There." He says with quiet pride. "How does it look?"