“Hello!” shouted Pinkie Pie, startling Rarity as she was coming out from the chimney, completely ignoring the smoke and the heat.
“Pinkie Pie? What are you doing into my chimney?” the unicorn asked, as curious as she was concerned about her friend safety.
“What are you doing?” Pinkie asked. “Are you going to hang that painting over the chimney? It must be a very valuable one!”
The apparition of the pink earth pony had made Rarity simmer down, and it seemed silly now to burn the painting, as if it was going to change anything whatsoever. The whole thing seemed silly at this point and in regard to Pinkie Pie’s genuine smile.
“Oh, that’s you!” Pinkie stated, looking at the painting.
“Yes, it’s me.” Confirmed Rarity.
“You look old and fat!” joyfully added Pinkie Pie.
Rarity clenched her teeth, swallowed her pride and just said, while looking away not to show how upsetting it was to her.
“Yes, I know…” she just said.
“Who are the little children?” Pinkie asked. “I like the little children. Are they yours?”
Sometimes, Pinkie Pie just didn’t know when to stop. This was the line for Rarity. She didn’t want to think about the picture, she knew how she looked on it, and she would have hoped Pinkie would have taken the hint. As she wasn’t ready to hold back for an entire discussion, she just said, very straight:
“No, they are not mine! Of course they are not mine! I don’t have any filly or foal of my own and I don’t intend to for a lot of years. I’ve got a life to live while I’m still young! Maybe I’m going to have children way later, when I’ll be older and…”
She stopped there and Pinkie Pie smiled. The two mares looked at each other and Pinkie’s eyes seemed to say: “It was obvious, right?” or “I like sugary things, do you want to finish all that ice-cream by yourself?”. Rarity was unable to say if her friend was a genius or just very naïve.
“Thank you Pinkie, thank you so much!” Rarity said.
Then, she took her most beautiful hat and went out, ignoring Pinkie’s reply that was involving some unfinished ice-cream…
Rarity found back the hill where she had encountered Nimble Brush and, to her relief, he was still there, painting. But this time, he seemed to have seen her coming and stopped as she approached.
“Hello miss Rarity. How are you doing?” he said, while blushing a little.
“You, sire, are coming with me.” She answered.
“What? Now?”
“I have certainly no intention to wait. Do you?”
He had no idea. But it was too tempting to refuse.
“Where are we going?” he asked, while gathering all his painting stuff.
“To have dinner of course. After all, I still know nothing about you.”
“Dinner?” asked Nimble Brush, still confused, but very pleased with the way this was going.
“Yes.” Rarity gently replied, while displaying a very kind smile. “I might let you embellish my world.”
She giggled.
“Who knows.” She added, “I might even embellish yours.”
THE END