Necessary Love

by Zurock

Chapter 35: Sour

Through homely tale after homely tale Applejack and Till had stuck together. Sitting at the bar; loitering in the lobby; lagging their way down the hall; standing before Applejack's guest room door. The farm pony had been midway through yet another family story and so Till didn't interrupt her to let her know that they had arrived. He wanted to smell more of the fragrant apple orchards and walk upon the creaky floorboards of the old farm house which she had been talking about for so long that it already felt like home.

Only when the latest story finished did Till open the door. The squeak of the hinges jarred Applejack back to the present, like the sudden opening of a portal to a less colorful world.

"Thanks for all the family history. I enjoyed every bit of it. But," Till sighed, "here's your room. I'd be glad to get you anything you need before you retire, though."

The disappointment also brought a sigh out of Applejack. A good night, ended too soon.

"I reckon I can handle myself from here," she said.

"I don't doubt it. I mean, bucking a whole orchard by yourself? Sheesh."

"Heh. Maybe next time I'll let you get a word in edgewise so I can hear a lick about the Old Commonwealth, 'stead of me hoggin' the conversation like a spoiled puppy with a new chew toy."

The stallion smiled, "Whatever makes you happy."

"There you go again. You're a real dollop of cream, Brown Sugar."

She gave him a very formal, very official country genuflection, hat doffed and all. She even kept the hat off, holding it against her chest.

"We'll see if I can convince my dad of that when I write my letter of apology tomorrow," Till said, wary and reluctant but otherwise committed.

"You'll do swell, I'm sure."

"Thanks."

There was a pause as the stallion, lips half-open, considered whether or not to mention Rainbow Dash and the farm pony's own personal trouble. In the end he decided against it.

"I'll come around with a wake-up call again tomorrow morning," he said.

Applejack inched closer, bearing an eager smile.

"What time? Crack of dawn?" she hinted.

"Uh, no...?" Till didn't catch her clue. "The same time as today."

The farm pony only brightened and hinted more strongly, "Ain't nopony on this island who gets up at first light?"

"Well, the orchard workers do of course but not-"

Her subtle request penetrated the stallion at last.

"Are you suggesting," he laughed even as he leered in realization, "that you want me to... get you up to work in the orchard?"

"Boy howdy, Brown Sugar! You don't need to give me that two-headed pony look!" Applejack let out her own deep laugh. "I'm just angling for some honest work."

Till couldn't shake off his radiant surprise.

"You really want me to ask you to help out around the orchard tomorrow, on your vacation?"

"See now, this is what happens if ya spend a dog's age letting other ponies have all the fun. You forget things. Brown Sugar: when you work on a farm, every day is a vacation! I can't think of nothing more relaxing than being at home, and nothing would make me feel more at home than getting my hooves dirty."

To say that Till was impressed wouldn't have been inaccurate, but neither would it have been quite right. Something lifted inside his chest. He felt an invigorated push come from behind his heart.

"Alright. A wake-up call at sunup it is," he promised.

"Thank you kindly for the opportunity," Applejack bowed again. This time she returned her hat to her head. It was a shame that daybreak was on the far side of so many long, slow hours of sleep.

"... Good night, Applejack," Till said.

"Good night, Brown Sugar."

They didn't break. The traditional evening farewells just weren't enough to split them. They stood, and they grinned, and sometimes they peeked at the open doorway as if something was supposed to happen. For all the unnecessary and uninterrupted delay, there wasn't a moment of it that was awkward.

Finally Applejack gave a grateful nod and hauled herself into her room. Till gently dragged the door closed thereafter.

His hoof eased down onto the floor without a sound, and then he merely stood idle; going nowhere, looking nowhere, and saying nothing. The work day was now officially over and he had nothing more to do except jump into his own bed, but he felt no rush to get to it. Even carrying a long day's worth of exhaustion, he wasn't tired in the least.

Eventually he started down the hall, but oh so slowly. Each of his hooves stepped to a dance of their own. He hummed; not a practiced tune, but something pulled from the air. His neck swung about here and there and everywhere, but not to the music. It was as if his smile had a mind of its own and was roaming like a newly walking toddler, leading his face on a lazy chase down the hall.

But gradually he came to a quiet stop when he happened to glance at one particular painting on the wall:

There was a corcandeo tree sitting atop a parabolic lump of green hill. One of the branches was curled from immense strain, weighed down by a comically enormous berry of corcandeo, fatter than the tree trunk itself. Just below the giant fruit waited a stallion, and he was inviting to the hilltop a mare who was racing up it.

Silently Till absorbed the painting. Individual strokes poured into him, but the whole of it – the sum total of every color, line, thought, and idea – washed right past him.

He didn't bob. He didn't dance. He didn't sing. He didn't hum.

Gallowayo, bless him, was only an amateur painter and could hardly be faulted for the painting's crudeness. But nevertheless some of the coarse details spoke to Till in a unified voice of unhappiness.

Particularly the two ponies' faces.

Did they even care about where they were or what they were doing? Why go to the tree at all if they didn't? They hardly looked like they would have cared if the stem of the oversized fruit had snapped and they had been crushed under its fat meat.

When he looked away, Till immediately felt his happy music start up again. He walked on down the hall bobbing and humming, ignoring the painting on the wall, and also all the rest of them.

---

Outside the Passion's Embrace Summer Wind drifted around one listless flap at a time. She was terribly drained, and not in the sweaty way she liked. If only there had been more fatigue in her muscles and less in her sorrow.

She circled the building, mired in her dismal thoughts, never quite feeling the urge to carry on her sulking in the comfort of her bed. Evening had long ago gone deep and most everything across the entire island had darkened, but there were occasional glows coming from the building itself. Every few balconies had curtains which pulsed warmly with the lamplight coming from behind them.

Floating around, the pegasus passed one glowing room from which she heard a two-pony parade of giggles; the comical symphony included a squeaky balloon choir and the soft drum slaps of a pillow fight, and even sometimes the happy bang of a party cannon; a few a strips of adventurous confetti slipped out from under the curtain to explore the night wind. Another lit room offered no noises except for the rapid shuffling of paper and the vigorous racing of a wet quill. One of the end rooms overlooking the ocean had only a very dim glow which barely escaped through the balcony curtain; perhaps some quiet pony who was in bed but not yet ready to shut their eyes and dream.

When Summer Wind floated by Spike's room she noted that there was no glow. She hadn't escorted him back like she probably should have – she hadn't returned to the party at all after she had left – so she had no idea if he was actually there and asleep or if he had gone elsewhere.

She then realized that she was about to pass by Sweet Nothing's room and she immediately darted up higher. She made every effort not to even peek to see if his lamps were on, and she tried extra hard to suppress her guilt and shame that she had spent the prior night there. Again she vowed to herself that she would never share the island's magic with him going forward, but from somewhere inside her there was a desperate, lonely, uncomfortably hot pushback.

Once beyond the hated balcony she almost immediately regretted that she had not checked it. In midair she froze, sinking steadily as her weakly flapping wings absorbed some of her terribly worried thoughts. She couldn't bring herself to turn around though, so instead she quickly but quietly rushed forward around the Passion's Embrace. Up to the level of the top floor she zoomed, and she swung around to the topmost balcony on the ocean side; to Rarity's room.

There was no glow.

Summer Wind dipped closer to the balcony; as close as she could get without landing her hooves or swaying the curtain from gentle wing beats. She turned her ears and strained to listen, stretching hard enough that the cramp it placed in her neck doubled in pain for every further moment of silence. She heard not even so much as the whispers of a light sleeper, but couldn't tell if that was because the room was empty or she simply wasn't close enough.

It agonized her, being stuck between a curtain and her grim concerns. She could flutter closer, but that carried more risk of fumbling into an embarrassing situation which she was certain she'd never be able to explain her way out of. Ignorance, however, cursed her with a distressing fear.

The indecision paralyzed her long enough that she nearly thumped onto the balcony. She swiftly flapped higher to avoid an awkward, noisy landing, and she cringed at even the low gusts which her controlled retreat made.

Still no lamp came on behind the curtain. There wasn't any sign of a pony inside stirring, if anypony was even there.

Summer Wind groaned and shuddered, casting off some of her cold sweat. This suspicious skulking about felt both silly and reprehensible. She had another, more sensible way of achieving the same end.

Gradually she lifted herself away from Rarity's balcony until she felt safe enough to soar over the Passion's Embrace. She touched down on the highest terrace garden, quickly folded her wings, and trotted inside.

The hallway happened to be rather dark (no singular pony was assigned to keeping the inside lamps lit, so at nighttime the brightness indoors was a mixed bag), but Summer Wind knew her way around blindfolded. The very first room was Venus and Vesuvius' suite. She slowed to a pause as she neared it, hooves locking mid-lift.

Knocking on the large set of double doors would have been a gamble. Everypony who worked under the island masters knew what those shut doors meant, especially at night. Then again, she didn't hear any boisterous creaking from the other side. It might have been safe.

Eventually she decided it wasn't worth the risk until she had at least checked elsewhere.

She moved on, heading briskly towards an archway streaming with light. Along the way she breezed by a small number of shut doors – other guest rooms – and one of the two main stairwells. She didn't hesitate to pass through the archway, and she blinked as her eyes adjusted to the lights of the modest common area.

Fortunately that was the end of her search: there was Venus, sitting almost curled upon a short plush stool, admiring one of the larger paintings in the whole building.

The island lady wore a completely different lava-lava from before; different than the one she had been wearing when she and Vesuvius had, after the bell moth ceremony, raced inside so blazingly fast with a trail of fire behind them. The first lava-lava was probably in a laundry basket; Venus looked like she had recently freshened up. A wetness lingered in her mane, enough to make it shine, and her manestyle had been greatly simplified (brushed straight, flowing down one side). Her coat likewise had a dewy sheen to it, making her as silky as her skirt. The shower had washed away all of her sweat and the only sign left of what she had been through was the energetically rosy color which filled her cheeks, like a runner still catching their breath an hour after a marathon.

"Excuse me, Ms. Venus?" Summer Wind opened, meanwhile glancing about to see that the room was otherwise empty.

"Hm? Ah, Summer Wind, a wonderful evening to you!"

The island lady turned on her stool, keeping her relaxed seating. About her was an aura. It offered little to the eyes, but it bombarded every other one of Summer Wind's senses. There was a mesmerizing discomfort to it, like discovering the aftermath of a pony drowned, but not from water. The large pegasus wasn't surprised to sense it. The most telltale sign was Venus's eyes which were still bright blue but had in an uncertain way lost their luster, though not with any sign of drowsiness.

"Are you here... alone?" asked Summer Wind.

Venus chuckled and said, "My dear Suvi has tired out and is sleeping now, of course." She further added, still amused, "I know he can get grouchy sometimes but you don't have to be so afraid of him."

"Yes ma'am. I just think this would be easier to discuss with only you."

"Oh?"

Even that vague opening was enough to tip Venus off. Several fair guesses immediately came to her mind.

"What can I help you with?" Venus remained friendly, but she didn't disguise the expectation that she might have to push back with soft authority.

"It's about Sweet Nothing."

Venus nodded; one of her top three guesses.

The large pegasus continued slowly, testing words almost one at a time as she watched the island lady's reactions.

"I'm not so sure it's a good idea for Sweet Nothing to be attached to Rarity. I don't think he has our mission at heart."

Venus took a stoic moment to politely smile before she closed her eyes and sighed.

"I sincerely hope," she said, "that this isn't actually about your own difficulties."

"Ms. Venus, please...," Summer Wind was hurt.

The island lady was annoyed, but only in the same motherly way as one who has to lecture a dear child about their repeated errors. She advised, "Summer Wind, you're a very wonderful and tenderhearted mare; you'll find somepony who can match your passion. I am sorry that the dragon is much, much younger than any of us anticipated. But you'll only hurt your progress, and ours, if you let your disappointment and frustration get the better of you."

"Ms. Venus, it's-... it's not that..." Yet even thinking about her unlucky lack of success caused all her knots to tighten. She persevered, "I really believe that leaving Sweet Nothing paired with Rarity will only turn out for the worst."

"Dear, I know Sweet Nothing often has to be endured more than anything, but he is on board with our cause as much as anypony. He has always succeeded in bringing pony's around to our way, and he does so swifter than anypony else!"

The large pegasus sprinkled grumbles onto the floor, "He hardly means to. The real reason you keep him around is for his family's money."

"Summer Wind."

Again like a fussy child and their parent, Summer Wind took her scolding with a lowered head and hooves shamefully scrubbing the floor.

"This has nothing to do with profit," Venus admonished. Every word which came out was unnecessarily adamant, almost defending pride more than purpose. "Money is an unfortunate necessity if we are going to spread our passion, and we thank Sweet Nothing's family for their contributions. What I need you to always remember – to accept; to believe – is that this is love, Summer Wind. Love, of the most far-reaching and profound nature, beyond any understanding ponykind has ever had before except perhaps for our blessed ancestors from this very island! We're uncovering something sacred which the universe has meant for us to discover. If Sweet Nothing's behavior were to ever jeopardize that, then of course it wouldn't matter how much his family offered. We would find another way."

Summer Wind nodded through the whole speech, still a foal regretful of their outburst.

Venus asked of her meaningfully, "Do you understand why you can't let petty feelings be more important to you than the mission we are fulfilling here?"

"Yes, Ms. Venus. I'm sorry."

The island lady slid off her stool and hugged the pegasus, tightly embracing the larger pony. She rubbed as much of her warm body against Summer Wind as she could.

"I know you are, dear," she said. Then, opening herself to the possibility, she asked, "Now... is there really a problem with Sweet Nothing?"

The hug was uncomfortable for Summer Wind. It wasn't the friendliness of it, rather something about its physicality which felt unnatural. She could hear the thumps of the island lady's heart, and sense its pulses even in the the very tips of Venus's hooves. What's more, even though the sweat and smell of passion had been washed away there was some ungraspable essence of it which lingered behind and attacked Summer Wind's mind.

It was like a bud of unhappiness planted in the center of her head which bloomed every time it felt that warm sunlight.

She didn't want to share her honest reason for stopping Sweet Nothing.

She would rather that Venus thought of her as petty and selfish than for the truth to come out.

"I think," Summer Wind very reluctantly admitted, "that there is a romance between Rarity and Spike."

Venus gently let go of the large pegasus and took a step back.

"Between... Rarity and the dragon?" she asked, and already her immediate skepticism skewered Summer Wind.

"Yes," the pegasus answered painfully.

Again a stoic delay, during which Summer Wind felt more scrutinized than considered. Then closed eyes. A restrained smile. A weary sigh.

"And you're not just saying this to deny Sweet Nothing the chance?"

Summer Wind nearly teared up. It was almost like Sweet Nothing was right there in the room with them, viciously gloating over his betrayed promise to apologize to Humble Herd.

"Ms. Venus... please..."

"I won't make any guesses or judgments about whom a pony chooses to love," Venus said seriously, "but I don't think there can be any true passion with such a young creature, if the magic even works the same way on a non-pony. We can't rely on the dragon to bring out Rarity's true passion."

"But-, but... Rarity doesn't need to experience it, right? The princess's pupil is the only one we need!" Summer Wind argued desperately. "If it might be love between Spike and Rarity, then-... then we can't risk letting Sweet Nothing harm the passion they might one day share, can we?"

The realization hit the island lady hard, and she was quite displeased by the facts. Uncharacteristically, she snorted.

"I suppose so," she relented. Nevertheless she had to justify out loud for herself, "Though every pony we leave out is a risk to our cause because they won't understand without experiencing the feeling themselves. But our cause is love. Hm."

Her gaze again studied Summer Wind's intentions.

"You're pushing awfully hard for this, Summer Wind."

"Spike has been incredibly kind to me," the large pegasus said after a thought. "He's been the kind of pony I wish I could share my passion with. I-... I just want to do right by him."

She wasn't even sure anymore if she was just saying things to seal the deal.

Venus mulled, and pondered, and turned back to gaze at the painting on the wall. At last she sighed again, this time with true fatigue.

"Let me give some thought to how we might handle it," she said. "There's still some time until we're going to open our guests' passions."

"But Sweet Nothing-!"

Summer Wind clenched her teeth hard, stopping herself. Any reveal of the dark stallion's theft of corcandeo would have also admitted to her own Pyrrhic complicity in it last night. If that had been her goal, why not have just dropped some distrust onto a silver platter and handed it to the island lady? She would never be believed if Venus had even the smallest reason to think that her motive was revenge.

"... Thank you for listening, Ms. Venus."

"Of course, dear," Venus said. She gave another hug, much faster and more tired than the last. More than anything she simply wanted to relax on her stool, and she hurried back up onto it. "Now go get some sleep, hm? It's been a long day, and we still need your hard work to help our mission succeed, even if this time unfortunately you won't have your passion opened."

A sigh of agreement wiggled its way out of Summer Wind, but then immediately a second sigh came out; a distraught and pitiable one.

"Ms. Venus," she knew she was now pushing her requests a little far, "about Humble Herd..."

No surprise there; he had also been one of the island lady's guesses.

The large pegasus continued, "... I know he's already requested that somepony else be assigned to Fluttershy, but I really believe he can do it if we just help him along."

"Summer Wind," Venus lectured more than she sympathized, "I want him to share the joy of passion just as much as you. I can't explain why he's been unable to embrace it, and I agree that he needs help and time. Everypony must share in this! But-"

"Ms. Venus-"

"But! We're at a critical juncture. We must succeed in bringing the princess's pupil over to our side, and every friend of hers that joins us only encourages her. This opportunity is too important for us to spend time experimenting for Humble Herd's sake."

"He deserves a-"

Venus cut short the argument, "He's already given up, and I'm not going to waste the time or energy convincing him otherwise. Somepony else has already been assigned, and that's that. I'm sorry, Summer Wind."

Summer Wind felt tugged on from both sides, leaving her at a place which could only be described as heartbroken anger. A quaking rage took her hooves and a fierce grinding took her teeth, enough to prevent any harsh words from escaping, but she also suffered from misty eyes and drooping wings.

The display rather reminded Venus of her dear Vesuvius and his flare-ups, only with less fire and more smoke.

"Since you both will not have partners this time," the island lady thought she was being helpful, "you'll be free to try again with Humble Herd, if you like."

The burning dissatisfaction inside the pegasus was smothered as her damp sorrow quickly grew. She said nothing.

Venus felt tired in her very compassion. She was truly remorseful over some of her ponies' inability to find passion like she had so perfectly and easily found, but it had become quite grating how little faith they sometimes had that all truth and magic would be revealed in time. By definition, destiny could not be avoided.

"Go to bed, Summer Wind," she advised maternally.

Slowly, steadily, and exhausted like she had taken on a thousand bruises of fatigue, Summer Wind turned and began to creep away, too withered to even use her wings to float off.

"Good night," Venus said.

The large pegasus moved her head like she had an equal valediction to return, but nothing came out of her. She wandered out of the common area, heading down the dark hall she had first come in from.

Venus hummed a long moan before she went back to losing herself in Gallowayo's large painting. For the time being, still high on passion, she didn't want to trouble herself over Sweet Nothing, Summer Wind, and Humble Herd. She wanted to wrap the painting around her mind so hard that it would leave an impression, and then she could curl up next to her beloved Suvi and have it all appear in her dreams.

"... Ms. Venus?"

The new voice came from the opposite hall Summer Wind had left through. Venus looked to see Prism cowering in the archway.

The pony was shuddering in agitation. Some low distress inside her had been softly boiling for some time, and only now was she seeking somepony to help her manage it.

Right away the island lady slipped off of her stool. She didn't need to be pulled, dragged, or cajoled off in the slightest way.

"Prism, dear, what is it? Come here."

Though she quivered, Prism didn't hesitate to enter. She approached Venus immediately—intimately—though without making any eye contact.

"Well, what is it?" the island lady tenderly tried to draw the concerns out of the upset mare. She hadn't ever truly seen Prism so riled, and bothered, and displeased. Prism was one of her flock who had so swiftly and completely embraced beautiful passion.

The shaken pony tried to speak up, but every time it was like her fears and her furies were at war, holding each other back from rising out of her throat. She still couldn't lift her face.

At last she managed to say, "I overheard them speaking..."

"The human?" Venus guessed.

"Yes... And the princess's pupil. They-..."

Prism just didn't have the faculties to process the emotions. She couldn't make the hots burn and the colds freeze in the way which she wanted them to. The way that, in an altered state, she knew they could.

"... they were... talking about it."

"What do you mean?" the island lady questioned suspiciously.

"They were-... they were talking about... passion," she said, as if their language lacked more accurate words for it. "They were talking... candidly about it."

Venus became profoundly troubled.

She demanded to know, "Did they already have some of the corcandeo? Who gave it to them?"

"N-No. I don't-... I don't think so," Prism shook her head.

She didn't share the island lady's worry at all. In fact she was surprised by it, and scarcely understood it. Her mind clutched a much worse fear. She buried her eyes in the floor and nuzzled herself closer to Venus.

"Do you think...," she whispered, "... that-... that... James and her... that they've already..."—again her vocabulary just didn't have the power to speak the concept plainly, and so she skipped over the words—"... with each other?"

In the depths of her mind, where there should have been the imagination of a biological act, there was only a void. Her time on the island meant that she knew what belonged there, but without assistance she couldn't picture it. Yet regardless a fearful cold radiated from that patch of nothingness. She shivered and shivered, right up until the void began to take on a new shape; a real shape; one she could see; a recent memory:

Twilight's face, lit red and with her eyes shyly diverted away from Prism's assigned man.

The cold shivers became a hot bristling, her frown closed as she gnawed indignantly on the inside of her mouth, and her burning hoof raked the floor. Her jewelry jingled hard.

Venus, however, suddenly had an altogether more calming thought enter her mind. A hopeful thought.

Indeed! What if the princess's great pupil already had one hoof in the water?

---

One would think that for all the packed bags she had made Spike carry, Rarity would have had absolutely everything she needed. But no. Or so it felt like it anyway.

After the party she had returned to her room to clean up and then go to bed, but in practice she had only removed the gorgeous blue dress and then had spent most of her time trapped in a vicious cycle bouncing back and forth between her chamber's bathroom and her opened luggage. In the bathroom she would stare blindly at the mirror until she realized that she needed this-or-that beauty tool, and would go to retrieve it. At the luggage she would stare at all of her things, having forgotten completely what she had wanted.

It was her fuming that had her so scatterbrained. For the final stretch of the party she had kept her temperature down – an unladylike eruption simply would not have been acceptable – but once she had been left alone in her room then all the steam had come sizzling out. Her circuit between bathroom and luggage had really been secondary to her constant stream of low grumbling.

That man...!! This has been a long time coming...!!

Rising above the dressmaker's grousing came a soft knock came upon her door.

It was a surprise given the late hour, but not a surprise sharp or frightening. Rarity presumed it was for something important – one of her friends in need probably – since otherwise such a late disturbance would have been terribly rude.

Thankfully her seething delays meant that she was still rather presentable. The immaculate dress was off, but underneath that she was still Rarity. Rather than ask the door who was there, she simply wandered over and opened it with her magic.

Sweet Nothing bowed all the way to the floor.

"I hope you can forgive a poor fool," he said while prostrated, "who is not strong enough to pry themselves away from your beauty. I had to see you again."

The dark stallion's visit was, for Rarity, more unexpected than it should have been. But far beyond that, it wasn't remotely unwelcome at all.

"Mr. Sweet Nothing!" she greeted. She fanned herself, though of course she was suffering no case of the vapors; it was just hard work being that good looking. She led on in obviously feigned ignorance, "Oh my! Have I done something to summon such a gentlecolt caller so late in the evening, hm?"

Sweet Nothing wanted to test her first.

"It was worth any risk," he said, and he turned his gaze into an intrepid explorer, losing it in her majestic face. Then suddenly he withdrew his attention, instead nervously checking the dark hallway behind himself. He chattered skittishly, "I don't care what that tall creature threatens to do to me."

Immediately Rarity scowled, and for certain it was not directed at her visitor.

Sweet Nothing was viciously delighted, though of course he betrayed not a single blink of it.

Rarity harrumphed, "You don't mind one word of what that crass man says, Mr. Sweet Nothing. You've been naught but an exceptional concierge with a stupendously well-practiced personal touch that would make any lady feel like she was the princess of the palace! If that bothers my atrociously reticent human friend, well then, perhaps he should take some time to develop his big colt voice and simply take his concerns to me instead of arrogantly assuming that he knows best!"

"Dear lady," Sweet Nothing acted shocked at her thunder, "I'm sure your friend respects you greatly."

"One would think, but a word of advice from one professional to another, Mr. Sweet Nothing: tact is about when to bite one's tongue; respect is about when to loose it."

And then, really for no other reason than to spite the absent man and his unwanted orders, Rarity stood aside and invited, "Please, come on in."

"Oh ho, gorgeous and divine Rarity! I couldn't!" Sweet Nothing melted on command like an ice cube marine. "It'd be much too scandalous for me to be in a lady's room at such a late hour! I only came because I needed to bask in your radiance for a few moments if I wanted to survive the night."

He started to slip away since he had successfully thieved one succulent drop of her perfection, though as he went he kept himself attracted to her, fighting her magnetism. Each step further eroded his resolve until very soon he couldn't continue on with his escape. He turned back to Rarity, weak from defeat.

"But maybe...," he said bashfully, "... if instead... you could come with me?"

"To where?" Rarity asked. She was intrigued, though at his unexpected invitation she actually felt a tug of uncertainty.

Like a magician luring their audience into the magic, Sweet Nothing whispered, "I have something to show you...." Then, smoothly but completely contradicting his nervousness of before, he began to back away into the hallway shadows.

The dressmaker took two chasing steps after him but cautiously held herself back from crossing the threshold of her door.

"Oh, but Mr. Sweet Nothing! S-So late at night! Are you certain it can't wait until morning?"

He blended right into the darkness which was swallowing him, still withdrawing. Time was running out. Once more he called to her, and he twisted his voice in just the right way, like pulling a trigger.

"I don't want him to catch us."

Rarity stiffened up and snorted again. Defiantly she tossed her mane, and in one pass her magic rolled over it, weaving back into place any hairs that her evening winddown had sent astray.

"Very well, Mr. Sweet Nothing. Lead on!"

She stepped out of her room and followed him boldly.

When she was close enough, the shadows about him pulled back. He was again fully charming, dashing, and eager.

Sweet Nothing guided her down the hall, moving quickly but stepping softly. They turned into the first stairwell they could, just before the common area. It wasn't that long ago that Sweet Nothing had seen the common area lit, and furthermore he wasn't going to take the chance of having to pass by Venus's and Vesuvius' suite. The two sneaking ponies descended only one flight down to the fourth floor, and then Sweet Nothing led Rarity the rest of the way through the hall until they emerged at the terraced garden for that floor.

The hallways and stairs had been so dim that Rarity had to have closely followed the silvery swish of Sweet Nothing's tail. It had been a bit like a fishhook in the murky depths of a lake, transfixing a fish with its shimmering dance.

But in contrast to the inside, the rooftop garden was oddly a much brighter place. Moonlight and starlight sprinkled down together to make a blue night. Earlier at the party the rest of the world had only seemed so black because of the blaring torchlight and the overpowering stage lights. But those plainly lit tables and that light-blasted boardwalk from before couldn't compare to the silken shades of the flowers and the subtle performances of shadow across the long stone planters. What would have been a rainbow menagerie of petals in daylight had instead been turned into an astonishing palette of blues from the softest periwinkle to the most swimmable navy, laid together on a canvas which breathed with the gentle touch of the ocean wind.

The space wasn't terribly large for a public garden; certainly not even close to a tenth as gigantic as the Pleasure Gardens, and not really any bigger than the backyard of a comely little home in the suburbs. The flowers were mostly arranged around the outside of the terrace, though still with plenty of room to approach the balustrade, and there was one hefty pot right in the center which had a very young tree ringed by a carpet of flowers. The stairway down to the next terrace was at the far end while the stairway up passed just over the archway the ponies had come through.

Such a beautiful blue gradient reminded Rarity of the lovely dress she had worn earlier that night. This was now two stunning nighttimes her concierge had gifted her.

"I must say, Mr. Sweet Nothing, being out in this breathtaking beauty does create a wonderful feeling inside me."

He seemed to smile at her remark, though it was hard to tell between her angle and the way the blue night deepened his darkness. It could have been some kind of smirk, if she had said something funny.

Without a word he gestured over to the side of the garden which overlooked the beach and ocean.

Floating there next to the balustrade, in the space between two planters, was a tiny point of light flickering orange.

For a moment Rarity was transported back to the sublime wonder of the glowing glade, and she silently gasped. But right away it became clear that the glittering light was no magical bell moth. It wasn't anything more than an ordinary candle lonely atop a very small portable table.

Sweet Nothing approached and stood next to it, and he invited the dressmaker over with his hoof by giving the air between them a few slow, possessive tugs.

Rarity noticed upon the table a serving plate with a cloche over it, and at last she caught on.

"Mr. Nothing," she said, trembling with a detectable amount of reserve, "a candlelit rooftop dinner? I appreciate the trouble you've gone to, and also the elegant simplicity of your presentation, and certainly the ambiance, but..."

The last thing she wanted to be was impolite, especially after she had worked up all that anger for James over this very sort of thing.

"... isn't this a little... too romantic?"

"Romance?" Sweet Nothing chuckled lightheartedly, though with the strangest harsh texture underneath and likewise only after a bizarre delay. "Why, this gesture is of course no more than a small showing of the personal paradise we try very hard to offer each guest on our island. And, perhaps, just a tiny apology for anything unappreciated I might have done."

This time his reasoning didn't quite sell to Rarity. But she was ever the lady.

"Oh my no, Mr. Sweet Nothing, you've done nothing which would require you to apologize, and this is quite the surprise and delight. But... well... you see... that is... er... I'm... not terribly hungry! Yes! Not hungry in the least! Aheh, certainly not after that splendid buffet! I couldn't possibly have another dinner."

"Ah, well," intoned Sweet Nothing devilishly, "this is no dinner." He gripped the handle on the cloche with his teeth. "Just a special treat which I guarantee you're going to love."

The cover lifted and revealed a mostly empty plate with only a few tidbits of fruit in the center: two oddly-shaped berries slightly smaller than apples, each diced in half to be served.

Rarity recognized them as passionfruit; the diced halves were like little bowls filled with fruity seeds. Yet normally the pulp around the seeds of passionfruit was very yellow. The dressmaker had never seen one where the pulp was so many faint colors. Underneath the yellow it looks like there were faded rainbows moving about, desperately trying to break free.

Surely just a trick on her eyes because of the blueness of the night.

"I suppose there's no harm in a teeny midnight snack," Rarity felt relaxed again, and she sat next to the table.

"None at all!" Sweet Nothing agreed. "This is no more than a beautiful treat, on a beautiful night, for a beautiful mare. Then we can take you back to your room."

He had, after all, already confirmed that he could get her to invite him inside.

"My, you certainly know how to sell the experience!" the dressmaker said. She gave a few taps to her warm cheeks, happy to be indulging in the princess experience again.

"Of course," said Sweet Nothing. He scooped up one of the berry slices. "I want show you the very best of what we do here."

He offered her the fruit.

Rarity's magic took hold of it, brought it to her mouth, and she opened wide so that she could rake in the sweet flavor.

Her tail twanged in shock. The hairs on the back of her neck distastefully stood on end. The squishiest lumps formed in her throat.

Disgusting!

She set aside the completely untouched fruit, dropping it back onto the tray without having taken so much as a nibble.

How could anypony eat in the presence of such grotesque and uncouth sounds?

Something was coming up the stairs from the terrace below, and by the gnarled noises it made it must have been some kind of bloated gasbag with legs. Instead of hoof clops, every step was a foul stomach burp. Each one of them felt like an oozy little worm trying to wriggle into Rarity's ears. Her offended spine wanted to slither right out of her back and flee.

Both ponies looked to see a distinctly non-pony shape rise from below.

One palm against his forehead, the other rubbing his stomach, James dragged himself over the top step. Before he was able to go any further, he suddenly turned colors and swooped to the nearest planter, throwing himself down in worship of it. His shaking fingers clutched the stone lip while he held himself just above the dirt and flowers, fighting the heaves which pounded on him from the inside.

Rarity's disgruntled anger couldn't think of any act which would have better epitomized the man than vomiting upon some beautiful flowers.

"Ahem!" the dressmaker cleared her throat like the strike of a furious ruler upon a desk.

The man hadn't been expecting to see anypony on his late night, stomaching-settling stroll. He tried to leap to attention at Rarity's call and he mostly landed on his feet, but he had to swallow a nasty gallon of recycled air. It took a host of willpower to keep the bubble down, especially since the burn of half-processed alcohol still clung to it.

"Oh shit," he said casually as he noticed the ponies.

"Oh shit," he murmured when he saw that one of them was a particularly displeased Rarity.

"Ohhh, shit," he muttered grimly when he noticed Sweet Nothing and the candlelight dinner setup.

Rarity, hostile but nevertheless composed, said, "Out for some fresh night air, are we?"

"Uh, well-..."

"Or," she hardened with accusation, "is this some... clandestine espial of my affairs?"

James patted himself down as if Rarity's offense had been drawn by some distasteful item which was mistakenly on his person. He floundered trying to form an answer; this level of rage was something he hadn't ever seen from the generous dressmaker before.

Meanwhile Sweet Nothing had a difficult time containing his own bitter anger.

Of all the interlopers: the man! The stallion was confident that he could have deflected any other troublemaker, even Rarity's precious little manure-stain of a dragon. But no, the intruder had to have been the very individual he had used as a lever.

More outrageous than that though, this plan hadn't even required a trip out to the garden terraces; the stallion had simply thought it was a masterful touch. He could have avoided all the trouble if he had just delivered the fruit straight to Rarity's room! For Celestia's sake, she had invited him in! He almost kicked the table over in frustration.

But, restraining himself and clenching his jaw, he tried to salvage his chances for passion.

"Madam Rarity," he wore his servile face, "perhaps we can just go inside and-"

"Now now, have no fear, Mr. Sweet Nothing," the dressmaker didn't even look at him. Her blazing eyes didn't leave the man. "You're not going to get in any trouble with my tall friend here, no. I'll make sure of it."

"B-But my beautiful Rarity-"

"The night is spoiled, Mr. Sweet Nothing, but it's not your fault. Thank you for your lovely gesture. You may go."

"But-!"

Oohhhh, he could have slapped her.

A clean buck to the man's stomach would have been satisfying too.

But he didn't want to ruin his future chances for passion over some hotheaded but well-deserved justice. He went inside, hardly restraining his stomps and departing so immediately that he left the fruit and dinner setup behind.

James humbled himself to try and soothe his friend. He all but groveled, "Rarity, I-"

"Oh don't you ‘Rarity’ me like that!" The dressmaker pointed back to the archway Sweet Nothing had left through. "He acts that way because it's his job. A little more forthrightness is required of you."

"I-, I-, I-...," the man still struggled, having no defense against somepony he revered, "... I don't understand."

Rarity bowled on, "What, did you think I might not be able to handle the fawning performance of a hired actor? That I needed somepony to protect me from the chartered charms of the resort staff? Is it a crime to you that I enjoy myself a little on our paradise vacation?"

"N-No!"

"Yet you thought you needed to go around me and curate the experience yourself."

James at last made the connection for why she was so angry.

He regretted so spontaneously defending himself, "That guy, he was really being... a little, you know-"

"Yes, he does try overly hard. But at least it can be said that he tries. You, on the other hoof..."

The knife went deep.

Rarity stormed right up to him, bold beyond fear. The fact that her first memory of the man was him killing another of his kind didn't even register anymore. She had learned who he truly was, and she was furiously disappointed.

Very intentionally she said, "The nights here are quite blistering, aren't they? I couldn't help but notice that you're still not wearing your summer outfit?"

The knife twisted.

"I-... I'm-..."

Not inside, not outside, not anywhere could he find the right thing to say.

Rarity waited impatiently for his answer.

"I'm-..."

Some manner of response trembled on his lips.

But by the way he shrunk, he admitted to the whole world that it was such a poor, pitiable, pathetic answer.

"... I'm comfortable," he surrendered.

"Hmph," the dressmaker snorted. "What I find most insulting is that you'll insert yourself unwanted elsewhere, but whenever I ask for your opinion you outright refuse it and lie about refusing it!"

The man stood there like the failure at friendship he was.

"Go ahead," Rarity invited disdainfully. "Tell me that the summer clothes I made for you are ugly. Hideous. Abominable."

He couldn't pick himself up an inch, let alone look her in the eye.

"... They're not ugly...," he said. The worthless words weren't even sloppily disguised as truth.

It was another insult to Rarity. She rolled her eyes. She clicked a hoof against the stone floor.

"So now you believe that I've never handled criticism before either?"

No firmer than a naughty, guilty child, the man teetered in place before he admitted sadly, "... I didn't want to get in your way."

The squeak of honesty was worthy of a small reward, so the dressmaker did ease back on her overwhelming pressure. She was still miffed though.

"I asked repeatedly for your input. Why did you never simply tell me you were unhappy with my work?"

"You've... already made me two great outfits, free of charge. And then you were going to make me another one? I-... I already owe you so much. I couldn't dare be unhappy with you, no matter what I thought."

"(Ignoring for one minute that an important piece of professional pride is in making clients completely happy,) you could have at least told me even that much, or said something about your true feelings. Do you understand what it says to me when I'm not worthy of your honesty?"

James cringed.

"I didn't mean for-"

"I feel diminished and ignored."

"... I'm sorry."

Again Rarity showed him some relief from her attack though she was still quite riled.

"Thank you for that, at least. But let's take it one step further: can you tell me, right now, what exactly is the problem such that you can't be equitable with me?"

The man felt the inadequacy seizing his chest, crushing his lungs every time he tried to begin a sentence. Had she been an official authority higher on the chain chewing him out sternly like he was familiar and comfortable with, then he could have stood at attention and barked proper replies without breaking a sweat. As it was, he had her up in a place of such high moral superiority that her enormous dissatisfaction kept him squashed.

"We're not equal," he weakly muttered. "I just... wanted to show you the right kind of thanks and respect for all you've done..."

"Well you've done a poor job of it, haven't you?"

That time even Rarity felt she had given the knife an unnecessary tug across.

But she wasn't in any mood. The only thing that was going to adequately cool her fires was some long overdue beauty sleep.

"Ugh," she sighed heavily, "of all the times and places, this had to come up on vacation. I suppose I should also share some of the blame, for having been too generous with my patience and not forcing it sooner but... hindsight and all. It's far too late tonight. Can we agree to sort this out another time?"

James' hands came up. To apologize more? To plead for more time right then?

He shrugged and they dropped.

"Alright...," he said.

"Then good night," Rarity gave a swift, shallow nod and turned aside.

But she stopped, facing half-away from the man. The thoughts waited to be spoken, and meanwhile her horn shined with just a dab of diamond light. It snuffed the candle out.

"You know," she said to James, much more softly than everything she had snarled prior but not holding back on any of her seriousness, "as long as we're here on this quiet, faraway island, I recommend you spend some personal time reflecting and getting your act together. I'm hardly abreast of everypony's private affairs, but I know that I'm not the only pony who has been hurt by your ill-considered disregard. Others are not as dumb, ignorant, and unobservant as you might like to believe. And... certainly you're a better fellow than treating others that way."

She finished turning away and then went, heading inside. But again she stopped, this time under the archway.

"I apologize for my curtness," she said quickly.

And then she became no more than shrinking clops in the dark hallway.

The man was left standing there, but not for long.

He threw himself down, gripped the nearest planter, and vomited onto the flower bed inside. A second, smaller bout of acid rose up after the first, but after that he felt finished. He gave a few strong, harsh coughs to clear away as much of the vile flavor as he could.

Disgusting—and not in reference to the half-digested mush which had come from inside him.

James turned over and rested himself against the large planter, letting the sweat of nausea run down his neck and back, and taking deep controlled breaths. He needed a silver lining after everything that had just happened, and finally feeling stable enough in his belly to actually eat was going to have to be it. He was hungry.

He picked himself up, stretched his clothes to shake off some of the sweat caught inside, hobbled over to the table, and grabbed one of the forgotten berry slices. The pulpy seeds went into his mouth, the empty skin went over the terrace edge, and the man went inside.

Comments

[paladinwolf]

Well... This can only end well :) 🙈🙉🙊

[grouchopony]

Rarity noticed upon the table a serving plate with a cloche over it, and at last she caught on.

Clothe?

[Zurock]

8288981
Cloche. It's a bell-shaped covering for plates and platters. I guarantee you know what they look like.

Google Images:
https://www.google.com/search?q=cloche&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwiyyrur0__UAhXGej4KHY27Dk8Q_AUICygC&biw=1600&bih=760

[grouchopony]

8289007
Guess I was wrong.
But Zurok, there you go, using words the rest of us have never heard of.
I'm the only one who's supposed to do that. 'wink'

[Zurock]

8289066
Heh. Some folks are done in by too much cholesterol. My goal is vocabulary.

In this case I used the word because I was recently reminded that it exists, having heard it again somewhere else, and once it was in my ears it just begged to be used. It is a rare word though, so it might be possible that anybody whose extended interests overlap with mine could pick out the source I heard it from.

[Hallucination]

Hmm, this is bound to be interesting. The fruit seems to make ponies want to bump uglies, but Humans always feel that as a kind of background noise. Wonder what's gonna happen.

[Truthseeker]

O_o ... well shite.

[DerpTape]

He ate the fruit!?!?!?!

. . .

The poor hotel room furniture . . .

[KvAT]

Oh God, Adam ate the forbidden fruit. Who will be his Eve, I wonder