Rarity's Warming Eve

by Silver Letter

Scene 3

When she was born, Rarity had been the first foal of her mother, Cookie Crumbles. Ever since then, she had seldom ever came in anything but second if not last save for anything having to do with rank that she earned. She narrowly avoided being passive if one sees it as having been first instead of second. And ironically, it was the day her generosity was birthed. It was as if fate had intervened so that Rarity would be first that one time when it truly mattered. The Rarity her friends know and loves adores being “fashionably late”, the one that is always strolling into parties last or coming so close to missing a fashion show deadline by mere minutes. They wouldn’t be able to picture her without her late night crumpled hair and strained eyes laser focused through her glasses, having had taken on a task barely achievable. Could she had lived that same life is she was passive? Passivity isn’t even a part of her vocabulary. What words would have replaced it if she had to look up to Sweetie Belle all those years? Rarity wouldn’t be able to fathom it; not because she thinks of herself as higher than her sister but because nopony can really grasp how their lives and personalities could be scrambled so completely and by the switching of a single order in life.

Rarity can see her future now and dream about it in the wee hours of the morning when she slept. The future was that play, and being alongside her good friend. She even daydreamed while she sewed. That morning, she had finished sewing two long pieces of cotton fabric together on her machine. It was for one of the main characters of the play, the unicorn princess’s assistant. It was ready to be fit into the designs she painstakingly drafted. Being nearly done with yet another costume refreshed her feeling of vigor. But then she reached for the pin cushion that was in the shape of a heart and bumped up against the hoof of Coco Pommel. They had been reaching for the same thing. As often as that happened, they never saw it coming. They were so absorbed in their own work. It took Rarity half a day just to finish the princess’s cape. The velvet and fur just refused to cooperate. Once she attached the collar to the princess’s assistant’s cloak, her second costume will be finished. She let Coco grab a few pins and as she returned to her work area, Rarity turned her head, keeping her in her line of sight. Her gaze switched to her mannequin, which was covered in one of the Pegasus armored uniforms. Rarity went to her hooves and moved closer to examine it a bit.

Coco had her muzzle practically pressed against the steel plates until Rarity was near. She then tilted her head up. The pins were in her mouth like a piece of straw. “Uh, yes?” she said through her teeth.

“Oh, nothing. I’m…just checking to see how things are going” Rarity replied. She wasn’t lying. But she also hated being seen as a busybody. She’s put her faith in Coco that she will help make the deadline with every last costume ready. There was a lot of resistance though, and it wasn’t making her job any easier. It took her twice as long to finish that silly cape just to make it gaudy enough to match what the real princess would have worn. No wonder that many past costume makers worked with whole teams. And even though Rarity knows she can accomplish this, it never feels like the two of them are on the same page. Coco was just an assistant when she met her but now, she claims to know so much. Design for the theatre and now she’s an expert. But that’s not how things are. She’s cutting corners that aren’t meant to be cut.

Rarity meandered over to another workbench where a Pegasus helmet rested. It had a row of hair bristling along the top like a porcupine’s spines. The stainless steel and silver reflected her image. She really knew how to make a fine craft but as good as the helmet was, she was able to spy a few slights that had to be corrected. She noticed as soon as she saw the helmet that it lacked a distinguishing emblem of the Pegasus tribe. It wasn’t even polished to her standards. She turned and looked at Coco. She was pinning a piece of embroidery to the front of the armor suit to be affixed later.

Rarity could feel an almost psychic energy in the room. It came to her the more she thought about Coco’s work. When they were apart, it hummed in the background; but now, it seemed to spark as if their very minds could clash like two rocks beaten together. She could easily admit to having had that experience before. Sweetie Belle and she often had the worst of fights whenever her parents had her come over to visit. It always had to do with work. Even when things were spelt out clearly, Rarity struggled to empathize. Her outbursts would come from nowhere and the fights themselves were over as quickly as they had begun. Arguments and heated words could be thrown to be burst in the air like fireworks. But the residue was often the long anxiety and regret that followed. That was the worst and it lasted the longest, following her even into her dreams.

She didn’t feel that a fight was on its way but Rarity still felt tense. She was feeling some kind of anxiety that didn’t even originate with her. She only began to notice it when they started working that morning. Rarity pondered all the things that might be dissatisfying Coco. She considered the weather or the fact that she was so far from home but none of it was getting her anywhere. Still, she pressed on and at the same time, Coco continued on the armor costume. As she was preparing to thread a long cord of leather into the metal rings to pull together the upper and lower plates of armor, she began to whistle a low tune. It was so low that it still lingered in the air after she stopped like a fly buzzing about her ears. Rarity couldn’t concentrate or even think. With the clacking of her sewing machine, being bothered with the sound is as silly as fussing over an ice cube being thrown into a hot bath. She stood, gritted her teeth and inched her way to Coco; she was totally unsure what to say but this is one annoyance too many. It had to end right now.

In the two days they have worked together, Coco must have felt the very pulse of the air between herself and Rarity. Fuzz, fabric residue and glitter were whipped into a frenzy. The air was almost stifling and the room seemed so small like it was never meant to hold more than two ponies working at the same time. Rarity had come over to mention something about her work so often that it became routine, almost something that fades into the background. But it was getting worse and a confrontation wasn’t far off. Rarity had tried to avoid it all this time or even try to pretend it wasn’t there and let it drown in the sea of sound. Worse yet, she barely had any idea as to what Coco was thinking. It wasn’t like the problems she had with her sister. After a fight, they would talk together and that was as easy as sitting and giving a smile, one that invited the foal to open herself up. The two were sisters. They knew each other. Coco was a different matter altogether. It could be so frustrating that they were so directly similar like sisters from different cities, being so close in age and having many of the same passions in life. Maybe that wasn’t enough.

“Coco, dear. Can you listen to me for a moment?” Rarity asked, interrupting her work. The mare ceased what she was doing and started to breathe deeply, taking the time to relax. “Thank you. I had been wondering whether you can stop making those sounds. You know, the whistling. I’m not saying they’re bad but it does interfere in my concentration to some degree”.

Coco put her things down. “But I always whistle or hum once in a while when I work. What’s wrong with it”? The mare always came across as so fragile but no matter how sympathetic Rarity might feel towards Coco’s voice, she could not bear to back down now. She had to stay firm on this one or she was going to go insane.

“I’m sorry but I can’t concentrate” Rarity reiterated. “I must demand that you stop…please”.

“Yes, it’s always a demand with you!” she snapped back. “Well, Suri…I mean, Rarity, maybe you would be better off if you loosened your grip on things”?!

Rarity almost tripped backwards, her mouth agape. Coco, seemingly realizing what she had done in a moment of anger, decided to shut up. Her face was flushed with red and she bit her lower lip. Did she dare to compare her to Suri Polomare, her former boss? What nerve! Rarity couldn’t believe what she was being told. No amount of difficult work could excuse that. She was nothing like Suri. She knew that mare was contemptible and she barely knew her.

Neither of them spoke and before Rarity could even consider being the one to end the silence, Sweetie Belle entered the room in a sense of triumph. She stood tall and grinned.

“Hey, I finished the peasants’ costumes! You two should come and see!” she yelled.

Rarity swallowed and tried not to cry but Coco received the news with a warm smile.

“I would love to” she replied. Rarity saw that her front teeth were stained with blood.

Rarity stayed silent as those two headed out to see the costumes for the extras. They weren’t on her mind since even Sweetie could come up with a convincing set of rags for them to wear. It might even lend some authenticity to it. She sighed and walked to the near completed suit of armor. On the other side, she spotted the design she made. It was partially crumpled. She assumed from handling it all day. When she picked it up, her eyes widened as she scanned all the markings in red upon it. It slashed across the paper and circled things she had written. They were corrections and they were all written in Coco’s script.