The Rush vs The Flow:
The gowns here look simply magnificent, taking their rightful place upon the display racks as they should, thus I marvel at my creations with the upmost pride. I'm a little picky as to which dress is my favourite though, no thanks to my judgemental little sister who always likes to pressure me when I don't need it.
"Rarity, oh miss Rari-ty! You've done another outstanding job if I do say so myself," I get a pat on the back, crude but gracious.
"There's no need for flattery, Miss shores; honestly. These aren't really my best pieces," Gliding my fingers down the sleeve of the dress, I turn to Sapphire who's giving a glance at another piece of work.
She purses her lips together, manoeuvres around me still keeping her hand on my back as if she was about to show me something. "Well, I must admit that these pieces are a little unique, at least in contrast to your other works."
"The theme for this show was a little in the area I'm least experienced in," There's a sense of irony in that statement. "The streets-"
"The streets? Darling you mean the Red Light District," she waltz' around me, "The theme is Taboo and you hit the right spots."
(Only a whore knows how to design a whores' clothing.)
I almost blush, a flush of heat runs through me. "Well I'm-"
"Flattered?" Sapphires tone dulls down, the hype disappears and what's left is darkness; gravity. "Don't be, a compliment is a compliment so be happy with it, not flattered. Flattery means that you disagree, hold feelings against it."
(You're a silly little girl with no sense of fashion, and those thin threads men call sexy are nothing but red strips of latex and a maids outfit. How pathetic!)
I'm almost fuming, feeling the blood within me boil I hold tight my lips and clench my fists.
"Easy to aggravate, that's new."
(That's right, get pissed off and see what happens.)
"Thank you for the chat, Sapphire." Emphasis, the key intonation of hatred. "It was wonderful spe-"
Sapphire groans, pulls me away from the display. "Don't lie, it wasn't wonderful at all!"
(You're falling for it, Rarity.)
"I just want to go," Pulling away, I make my leave but a hand holds me back. "Get off me!" I spin around and lift my arm up, threatening to strike her.
She almost looks genuinely surprised as she staggers back. "Whoa now girl, you get a hold of yourself!"
She's trying to make me the bad guy here?! "How dare you! You come here, insult me, berate me and you think that you can make me the bad guy?!" I must have the entire backstage focussed on me now.
Her composure returns, she acts cool saying: "I did no such thing, I simply complimented you..."
"I'm going now, farewell Miss Shores." I wave, exiting the room and out the back. There was no response, at least from what I could hear; just the sound of hurried assistants and the clambering of other things.
And finally I close the door behind me, refuse to step within that facility again but I do regret some of the things I said back there. Oh well, it's too late now. I'll just have to accept what's happened and hope things change. At least I have my money. Reaching for my pockets, I scavenge around till I find an envelope, a little scrunched but still viable. The lip of the envelope peels off as I slide my nail beneath, the glue audibly tears and with a satisfied feeling I pull the contents from the pocket.
^10,000.00 (EQB)
It's quite a unique check, a symbol of our nations currency is printed in green at the right corner, two upright mares wielding a pair of banners, one in each mouth. "Luna est dominae - Sola est Dominae. Equestria est Dominae" printed beneath them, written in their shadows. It's quite a fancy check indeed, but what really matters is the digits written and hand signed for legitimacy. Photo Finish, what a stupid bitch... Reasons, what reasons? She's stupid and she's a bitch!
I fold the cheque in two, slide it into my pocket. I look at my apparel, less than adequate. Tanned ugg boots and a pair of plain old blue jeans. The bottoms look scuffed and the leggings are a little worn through but I'm comfortable with that I guess. At the very least I know that the upper-class society I used to cherish would scorn me for wearing such... such... Clothes. There's no real point in trying to figure out what fancy word to use, in the end; they're all just clothes.
The back alley is pretty trashy, smells the same too and it's rather wonderful; beats having to smell pretty all day to be honest. I wonder, do I belong here with this trash? It feels comforting enough, welcoming and homely just like the rest of the filth I called society. This is what it feels like to shower in diamonds, completely and utterly painful. The rush of society, people, adapting and evolving to things that barely exist for more than a minute; it's disgraceful. I'm disgraceful.
"Hey, Rarity!"
I want to clasp my hinds to my ears, hold them there and ignore the rest of the world but my morals get the better of me. Turning, I suddenly regret my feelings noticing my little sister in the distance. She runs towards me with a worried look on her face, asks:
"What's wrong?"
I give her a feigned smile, reply: "Nothing dear, everything went swimmingly and I have my pay, so we can move on out if you want to."
She grabs my hand, happily pulls me along with her as she leaps into a hyper stride. "You'll never guess who I say today!"
She exclaims in a peppy voice and I can't help but feel different, a little lighter.
"Who?" I ask, leaning in I poke her in the arm.
"Pinkie Pie!" She squeals, the name echoes through the alley and catches the attention of a few bystanders who were casually chatting away.
"Really? That's astounding, how is she?" I at least try to act like I'm interested, but-
"She looks like she's doing okay," There's a short pause, then: "But I think she's lonely." We stop just outside the exit of the alleyway and into the semi crowded streets. "I think you should go talk to her before, be friends again?"
The suggestion was nice, really it was but I just didn't feel up for it. There's something that holds me back, maybe a pent up desire of some sort, a thought that sits in the back of my mind that silently rejects her presence.
I look at my sister with caring eyes, gently shake my head. "Honey, that's probably not the best idea right now."
"Please stop with the pet names, it's really disturbing."
"Alright then, Sweetie Bell. Let's get to the train station and go back home-" Sweetie interjects with a long hard sigh, "But before that we should get something to eat, I'm absolutely famished!" (And ten grand richer!) but then she jumps up in utter glee.
"We should go to this place, it's really nice I saw it on the way here; c'mon!"
I stop solid in my tracks, grip Sweetie's hand and though she pulls, she doesn't offer much against me. "What does Pinkie Pie do, as a job that is?"
"Uhh, bakery like in Ponyville. Why? I thought you weren't interested in her."
"Well I'd just like to know is all, also, where are we going?"
"To Pink-"
"No." A foreboding tone overwhelms me, breaks my composure. "Why would you do that to me? Why would you take me to the one person I don't want to talk to!"
"You wanted food, I wanted to see Pinkie Pie!"
"Sweetie, I've already explained to you-!"
"No," she throws her arms back, starts her tantrum. It's always like this, no matter how hard I try for her, she just wants to argue. "No, you just can't get over what happened in the past! Things happened and people left, get over it! At least there was one person who cared and that was Pinkie!"
I lose myself, she pushes me to my breaking point and the next thing I know there's a look of terror in her eyes; her lips quiver and she starts to cower while raising her arm up, but it doesn't help her as I give my little sister one solid slap across the face, forcing her to the ground. Shock and terror are the only things present in those eyes of hers, no tears, just: shock and terror.
"It hurts when you do this, Sweetie! You always take it too far and you think that you're the only one who's hurt whenever things like this happen, but have you ever considered your sisters feelings, my feelings?!"
"No!" She screams, kicking at me. "You don't have any feelings, you always work and you don't have any friends!"
"I don't have any friends because they left me!" My voice becomes hoarse, I struggle to keep up but I continue fighting, I argue till I'm right and I argue till I'm in tears; until she's in tears, because that's how it has always been. "Why can't you understand that? I gave up on them because they gave up on me!" There's a shudder in my voice, the words quake as the pour from my lips, roll off the tongue.
We've gathered quite the audience today, haven't we? Oh well, at least it isn't anyone I really know. People, no matter where, no matter when, they'll never step in; always too afraid to get into matters that they don't think they can control. I hate that about people.
"No they didn't! No one left you, they left to pursue their dreams! Which didn't mean you had to crawl into a hole and forget about the world!"
"We're going home, right now! Nothing more needs to be said, if you want to eat; get something on the train with your own money."
"But I don't have any money!"
"Then you'll starve!" I pull her by the gruff a few meters and I don't relent as she scuffles her feet trying to get a good foothold before shaking free. "I don't want to fight anymore, just please listen to me," I beg, holding my hands together in the hope for mercy.
She holds her cheek: "Hot," winces, lowering her hand a look of anger and pain burns me, froths from her eyes an engulfing flame. A small trickle of blood runs down like a little red tear, her cheek almost on the verge of swelling. "Unforgivable." It's a whimper, a shuddering and deathly whimper and as she walks away I reach out to her, manage to grab her shoulder.
"Please stop."
Whether or not my words were heeded, I don't know, but at least she submits. My little sister has a fiery temper and though she tries to hide it, she's an open book for me to read, just with a few missing pages.
Prying my hand away she continues her silent strides, her dress waves with every step, her hair mirrors those movements. I wait for a few seconds, creating a safe and comfortable distance between us before following. I think about Sweetie Belle, when I slapped her the only words going through me head were: Please stop. Please stop. Please! But I wanted to keep hitting her, I wanted to see her in tears, in blood... There lies regret within me, the action replays itself over and over again in my head that I start drowning myself in them.
"Sweetie Belle, I'm sorry..." There's no way she would've heard that, not at that volume, from this distance. "Is there ever going to be a time when we stop this arguing?"
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