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// Prologue: 1 
// Story: Rearity's Fashion (Alt Nick) 
// by Ponyess 
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	I had been sent an invitation, to take the entrance test for Rearity herself.  This was in large part; since I had been applying for the spot, to be under her wing, as it were.  I desire to learn fashion from Rearity herself, sounded simple enough a dream?

If my dream was valid, or a mere folly; is now up for the toss.  If I can pass her test, I am supposedly in.  I had been told; I was to have at the very least a year under her wing, unless I was crumbling under the pressure she was to put on me.  Aside from pressure, from any other source that may be present, at any and all given time.  Of course, I guess that's a fear; faced, fazing many a young apprentice, not just under Rearity.  The same goes for all masters, who stand on the top; if they bolted up there, on their own; I guess this may be even more severe, which is how Rearity claimed her prize.

I stand alone.  Rearity's critical eyes a heavy burden, as the full force of the light from the sun burning my light pink skin.  I am not to crumble; that I had promised myself.

What were I to do?  She had given me precious little to go on.  Or the word coming to mind was nothing.

I had seen bolts of cloth, along with other materials, threads and what other materials may possibly be used?

Aside from cloth, I could clearly see leather.  Buttons, sippers, threads, along with numerous things I'm not entirely sure, just what they are.

I had imagined, I was to be judged; solely on what I made, but now.  I fear there is more to the point, the stake, as high as this.  What was she possibly going on?  Was I alone with her?  There had to be a reason, possibly other than not really trusting anyone to know, what to look for?  Or how to detect, what she was looking for.

I had come; wearing but the top and skirt, a tightly fitting suit, crafted out of shiny silk.  I had chosen them, partially for the close fit, but also; because I figured they were to be classy enough, not for her to dump me on the streets, outright.  Or to have me stand on a podium, as the laughing stock of the year?

I had chosen a deep purple, in part because I deemed it to go well with my skin.  However good the suit looks on its own, if the colours clash; I'm out the window, I knew as much.

For a moment, I had been gaping at the precious fabrics.  Not just mere silks.  Just as the threads, even if I had seen silk; amongst them, there was both gold, and silver.

Then it struck me, as I had a final moment of uninterrupted time; the fabrics are not just mere fabrics, these are of a quality beyond hopes.

Now, were I to just craft the suit out of the materials; outright on free hands, or was I to dare a look into some book of patterns?  Then I saw the dummies, standing in line, awaiting to serve.  Not mere dummies, just as I should have expected, it had been way below her.

That's when I felt it, even if I had not realized; just what she was doing, her fingers pressing my skirt down from behind.  Was she just testing, what I was wearing; or making a point, as to fit or style?  For a moment, I feared she had seen a flaw; ready to have me out the window?  Only, nothing happened.

The next moment, I feel something; it was clearly pressing firmly to the small of my back, the edge of my spine, to be more exact?  Whatever it was; she had a reason, even if it escaped me?

I just stay quiet, not making a scene or even rising an eyebrow.  Just focusing on what I had at hand, fabrics.   Then I simply made my first move; as my hands reach out, grabbing hold of a fabric, black as night, shiny, or glistering, more to the point.  Only to my surprise; I could feel no threads in the material, and I knew it is no leather, or skin.

There was an odd, off beat sense to the material; not just the colour and how it looks, but the sensation under my ever watchful fingers.  I was to fail, or pass; but now was not the time for fear, or to falter, no time for hesitation; once I was making my move.

“Interesting choice!” she giggled.

I did not show any emotion.

“Now, if you know how to handle that, and what to make out of it?” she then suggested.

Question is, what am I going  to bind the edges together with; since the material wasn't going well with the threads of common use.  I blinked, then looked around; as I moved to a table with a dummy looking at me.  Maybe it was an easy choice?

She had not asked if I knew what it was, or what I thought I was going to do with it.  Just as she had not asked if I knew how to use it, or anything along these lines; she had stood quietly in silence.  Was she intending to freak me out, testing if I could take the pressure?

There was a hyped giggle from just over my shoulder, just after the instant I had felt an odd draft; just not able to pick up, on what it had been, or what it came from.  It had been from out of the blue, as it were.

If I am to work fashion, I couldn't just make a skirt and regular top?  How was I to make this special enough for her to even spare an instant of her time; just looking at it, or excite her, nonetheless?