Rarity, Thespian Extraordinaire

by Tarot Card

Act I

It was a morning much like most in Ponvyille, only notable because it was a certain Rarity's twenty-second birthday (or her forty-fourth, if one were to include her other life, but she was never one for technicalities, especially ones which called her youth into question). For the most part this birthday was expected to play out with the usual props and scenery: Sugarcube Corner, with cake and streamers, courtesy of Pinkie Pie.

However, Rarity woke up on this particular birthday with the grim certainty that this would be her last day on this world (or was Equestria a continent? In all her years, she had never bothered to find out).

For you see, the first time Rarity had celebrated her twenty-second birthday, she had woken the next morning as a pony.

Perhaps this requires some explanation. Most ponies, when they wake up to Celestia's sun wake with the expectation that they will be ponies, as they were the day before and all the preceding days of their lives.

Humans (as Rarity once was) do not share this expectation. For this reason she was understandably bewildered when she awoke the day after her twenty-second birthday party (after a night of heavy drinking) as a young unicorn filly.

Rarity, as most humans are wont to do in nearly similar situations, sought assistance in finding her way out of her current predicament. The first pony she found, and calmly explained the situation to dismissed Rarity as certifiably insane, as did the next pony. It was at this point Rarity felt somewhat discouraged in regard to her current situation, as well as her prospects of returning to her previous life of just a few hours before.

For the next ponies with whom she conversed, Rarity decided to omit certain details of her predicament, and this time she was only greeted with incredulous looks, a significant improvement from cries for a strait-jacket.

From these interactions she parsed many things, namely she was in a world of Technicolor talking ponies, and she was one of them. Also she could declare with a degree of confidence that none of said ponies were able to restore her to her original form, and none of them were able to give her directions back to East Village.

“You mean Ponyville?” one of the stallions conjectured. “Follow that road until it forks off in four directions, and go down the path between the oak tree and the aspen tree.” Rarity had little experience in horticulture; consequently, the stallion's directions were of little use to her, seeing as all of his directions seemed largely dependent on identifying various species of trees.

At this point, most humans in Rarity's shoes (horseshoes, rather) would have given up, and checked themselves into the nearest halfway house. Rarity was worth her mettle. For you see, she came from a certain line of work that she felt gave her a leg up. She was a thespian. Well, not an actress per se, but a costumer for an off-Broadway theatre, and a master of stagecraft all the same. She may not have auditioned for the role of unicorn filly, or even wanted it, but it was the only role available, and damn it all, she was going to play the best unicorn filly this Ponyland had ever seen. Only later did she learn that it was Equestria, not Ponyland.

All the world's a stage, is it not?

Rarity stepped up her game. She went from door to door, no longer a character in search of an exit, but instead as a poor and lost orphaned little girl. Her first couple of attempts garnered verbal sympathy, lines read aloud with no accompanying gestures. She was not convincing enough to overcome suspicion. No matter. With each subsequent house visited, she further developed her character. She found the right inflections and gestures that won her the most “poor-thing”s and “oh-my-goodness”s, until her monologue was polished and pulling all of the heart strings it could. First she got a couple of coins, then directions to a youth shelter, then a meal. It started raining, much to Rarity's delight. The only thing more heartbreaking than an adorable orphaned girl is one that is soaked to the bone.

The last house she visited was occupied by a young unicorn couple who urged her dry off by their fireplace while they prepared her some hot cocoa. She gave her monologue learned in rote, but no less desperate or passionate. She left with a warm cloak and the invitation to come back any time she found herself in need or trouble.

She was very thankful for the cloak, not so much for the warmth, but for the simple reason of not walking about in the buff. These ponies had no nudity taboo, but she clung to the human reverence for cloth covering skin.

This was the same unicorn couple who eventually filled out the paper work to adopt Rarity. When the adoption agent asked for her age, she simply asked how old she looked. The agent guessed five, and Rarity nodded knowingly. She was recorded as being five years, seven months and three days of age. By her next birthday, she was fully part of the family. Within a year and a half, this family grew with the addition of Sweetie Belle.

And she made the most of an odd role, hadn't she? When she anticipated at the very most, a nasty hangover, she ended up with an abrupt curtain call and a summons to a theatre she had never seen the likes of. But she had built a character, and life for herself. At the very least she had excelled beyond that ham of a pony Trixie Lulamoon. She had family, a growing business, and friends. Oh dear. It was her friends. They had no idea what was to happen to her come tomorrow. Her last day on Earth was effortless. She had no idea what she would have to go through, and had never had a teary goodbye with her human friends. Troubled, she donned her slippers, and trotted down stairs to make herself some tea.

“Perhaps it was a one-time occurrence,” she said to no one in particular. “But then, what would have caused a change of worlds? Death? If that's so, then that means I must have died that night so many years ago!” She gasped at thought. She had never really considered the possibility.

“If I had died, then that would mean I'm in some sort of after-life. And there's no such thing as an after-after-life, so I must stay here.” It made sense, in a queer sort of way. She found this whole place to be a little too idyllic. She'd like to believe hers was a life cut tragically short just as it was truly beginning, her last whispered words heard by her friends. Yet still, Rarity had perfect recollection that she, along with Deidra, Marcus and Lynn walked safely back to her apartment, where she had made a point of pulling out a futon for them to share after the night's festivities. She had even brushed her teeth and drank a glass of water before going to bed. If she had died of alcohol poisoning she was certain she would have remembered.

She paused from her musings while she selected a tea to drink, ultimately settling on orange blossom that Fluttershy had brought her to sample not even two weeks prior. They were the only two who regularly drank the stuff, but Rarity had made it a personal quest to convert at least one more of her friends to connoisseur status, if only to have another join their Sunday tea times. Rarity had set her sights on Pinkie, and was well on the way to peaking the baker's interest, especially when she had explained the potential pairings of baked goods and tea.

She sighed. “I suppose I'll have to abandon any plans on getting Pinkie Pie to truly appreciate that jasmine oolong blend I gave her. A shame, really. But who will share tea and stories with Fluttershy if I am off heaven knows where for the rest of my life? Really, I have only a day more in this life.” She took a sip, allowing the fragrant steam to fill her nose.

As she was bringing the china over to the sink to wash, the sudden absurdity of cleaning china she would never use again. With a shrug, Rarity placed the pot and dishes into the sink. She was walking out of the kitchen to continue her brooding when she glanced back at the sink, and bit her lip. “My friends will be coming over this evening, what would they think of me if I simply left dishes sitting out?” After a brief internal debate, she found herself spending five minutes of her last day in Equestria scrubbing her tea set clean.

She forced herself to stop grumbling. “Well, it’s not a complete waste of time, Rarity,” she said to herself, rinsing the suds off of the saucer in her telekinetic grip. “This way, somepony else will be able to use the tea set when I'm gone.” Suddenly, she was struck by inspiration. She quickly toweled off the dishes, and placed them among the rest of her set behind the glass display case. She quickly drafted a note, explaining how it was her final wish that her dear friend Pinkie Pie receive her ceramic tea set, so that she might spend Sunday afternoons with Fluttershy learning the art of brewing. After affixing her signature, she inserted the note into a decorative envelope, and placed it on the counter. She was about to append a post script, telling Pinkie pie to take her collections of loose leaf teas, but thought better of it. Pinkie wasn't nearly experienced enough to understand the nuance and flavors of each of the teas. “Better to leave them to Fluttershy,” she said, and she drafted a second note, bequeath all teas bagged or otherwise to Fluttershy, upon her untimely disappearance.

Satisfied, she walked towards the door, intent on finding her friends, but was checked as she caught sight of her working station, a symphony of organized chaos. She picked up a scrap of golden silk. She had no orders to fill; she had seen to making sure she had no needlework. But what would become of all of the dresses, all of her designs that were never promised to any client of hers? What of her personal affects, her appliances? With a world weary groan, she uncapped a sharpie yet again, and made inventory of all that she owned.

It is a miserable thing to consign your worldly possessions on the eve of your final day, but Rarity was grateful for the opportunity to prepare parting gifts, a luxury she did not have the first time. At least, until she realized just how many possessions she had to give away. Two closets, a wardrobe, and three progressively less and less heartfelt letters later, she opted to write a single omnibus instructing that her adoptive parents and Sweetie Belle be given anything of significant or sentimental value, and Twilight divide any unclaimed items among her friends.

During this process, our dear thespian had unearthed a memento of her school days, a report card. It bore bright red A’s on every subject save social studies, where Mr. Loose Leaf had opted to scribble the words, “needs improvement”.

Rarity is a very bright girl, excelling academically but seems to stumble in understanding the workings of the world. She acts aloof and is uninterested in developing friendships with other students. I would like to have a meeting to discuss Rarity’s desire to be reclusive.

Rarity had loathed that meeting, though she thought Mr. Loose Leaf to be a respectable teacher. She wanted to desperately explain how hard it was to fit in as a struggling actress caught mid act without ever having seen the script, but she held her tongue, if only to maintain the illusion she was fighting so hard to preserve.

Of course, once Rarity joined the Ponvyille school system, was when the challenging part began. She had quite some difficulty fitting in at first. Her first years in Equestria act and actress were separate, and the actress was still bitter about the role she was forced to play. The sulky, sullen filly was quickly determined to be a certified “weirdo” by her peers, on count of her insistence on being clothed at all times, misspeaking and saying “hands” instead of “hooves”, or “everyone” instead of “everypony” (“Rarity-isms”, her parents used to affectionately call them).

On her very first day, she was asked to take notes. Not out of the element for a school-aged foal, and Rarity knew quite well the life and times of a student. But as she withdrew her notepad and pencil, she was at a loss of how to go about the business of writing. Without fingers, the task seemed insurmountable. She pinched the pencil between her hooves, and carefully, using her entire upper body, began to copy the first word on the board. She managed to get two shaky, over-sized letters onto the page when she realized the she was drawing looks from her classmates. Anyone who wasn’t staring at her or the board had a pencil between their teeth, scribbling away. The unicorns of the class held their pencils in a cloud of magic. She swallowed the knot in her throat, and tried to catch up with Mr. Loose Leaf, who was already on the third bullet point. The pencil had other plans; it escaped her grasp, and clattered onto the floor. This time Loose Leaf stopped writing to turn and look. The entire class followed his gaze. Rarity stared down at the floor where her pencil had fallen, if only to avoid their looks. A kick managed to nudge the pencil from under her seat. She scooped it up one-hoofed after a bit of flailing, much to the class’s amusement.

Red faced, Rarity gave another attempt of writing with her hooves, only for the pencil to fall from her fumbling grip. Chuckles rippled throughout the school house, causing the teacher to scowl. This time, she had the dignity to not even bothering to pick up the pencil, or even attempt to write. Somepony kindly hoofed her pencil back to her, but she only placed it back in her little bag of school supplies. She refused to take any notes for the rest of the day, even at the teacher’s urging.

The second day, come note time, she tried imitating the other foals by writing with the pencil clenched between her teeth. Her penmanship was for all intents and purposes illegible; the eraser was bumping against the roof of her mouth but she didn’t drop the pencil, and she was keeping pace with the notes on the chalkboard. She was almost proud of herself, at least until she saw Moon Dancer, the foal next to her, staring. Unlike Rarity, Moon Dancer’s horn was aglow with the same color as the aura wrapped around her lady bug patterned fountain pen. A nervous glance around the room confirmed that Rarity was the only unicorn not using telekinesis to write. Moon Dancer’s gaze alternated between Rarity’s and the pencil dangling from Rarity’s mouth.

Moon Dancer must have picked up on her new classmate’s consternation. During lunch break, Moon Dancer walked up to Rarity, asking if she was too stupid to know how to use her horn.

Dear Rarity was taken aback by Moon Dancer’s malice. Perhaps it was not malice that the question was born from, but the tactless candor that comes as second nature to the inquisitive and exceedingly youthful. But it was malice that Rarity felt, and malice directed at a newfound insecurity, so with malice Rarity responded. She looked coldly at her antagonist’s frizzy pink mane, and asked if Moon Dancer was too stupid to know how to use a hair brush.

It wasn’t Rarity’s best comeback, but to five year old ponies, it was a devastating tongue lashing. All three lunch tables went silent as Moon Dancer mumbled an excuse to her hooves, and that was the last anypony said on the matter.

Rarity won the battle of wits, but it made her no better. She was playing the role of unicorn filly, but was incapable of even holding a pencil like a unicorn.

That recess, Rarity ignored the other foals (as she had done for the first two days) and made a vow to the high heavens, that she, Rarity, thespian extraordinaire, come fire or flood would learn to hold a pencil in her telekinetic grasp. She was worth her mettle! She was an actress who was going become the star of this show! She wasn’t going to let herself be checked by something as measly as pencil holding.

During recess for the next two weeks, she hid in the wings of the schoolhouse to figure out this whole “telekinesis” nonsense. Eventually— and with considerable effort— she could make an indigo spark jump from her horn. This victory, however, came at a price to her social standing. In the eyes of her peers, she’d become the phantom of the school house. Thunder Lane and Cheerilee once or twice invited her to play hide and seek with the rest of the class. The first time, Rarity declined, wanting to keep her new lace saddle clean. The second time, they approached Rarity unawares, and saw her cross-eyed and shouting angrily at her forehead, “Dumb horn! Do magic!” They opted to back away quietly.

Rarity ignored the whispers, and continued her practice at home. Her father discovered her much in the same way as her classmates. Instead of balking, he ruffled her hair affectionately and asked if she wanted any pointers. Despite her initial protests of his tutelage —and her newly mussed up mane— his guidance was helpful, not only in instruction, but in soothing her frustration whenever she was stuck. “Just because its attached to your head doesn’t make it easy to use,” he reassured her. It was a long night, and her head was aching by the end of it, but she saw the pencil suspended in mid-air, supported by nothing but an aura of her own magic.

She squealed with delight, and hugged her father. “Dad, I did it!”

He planted a kiss on her cheek. She didn’t care his moustache felt bristly and itchy, and hugged him harder.

The next few days, she refined her technique, learning to hold the pencil, moving the pencil, twirling the pencil. The day after that, she put pencil to paper, and over the course of the week, she watched her indecipherable writing tighten into elegant flowing script. She was finally taking notes in class, with a huge, dopey grin on her face. Rarity knew she was good as any unicorn.

Mr. Loose Leaf’s report card said otherwise. All grades barring social studies were suitable. Though there was a red ink comment on the bottom of the form, noting “Rarity’s unwillingness to interact with others or participate in class.” Admittedly, it had shades of the truth. Her odd clothing habits, the incident with Moon Dancer, and her eschewal of social interaction in favor of verbally abusing her horn had gained her a reputation for being prickly and eccentric.

The resulting parent-teacher conference was so awkward, it inspired Rarity to revise her role among the other students. She made a half-hearted attempt at befriending some of her fellow classmates. But she was twenty-three years old at heart, and she always found children to be insufferable. Still she would humor them occasionally, and join in their recess games if only to keep up appearances. She would join in their games of tag on days where there was no risk of muddying her hooves. She was usually chosen as the seeker in hide and seek, because she adamantly refused to crawl underneath the bushes or play-scape.

She was less diligent in her study attempts; her class time was spent doodling dresses in her math notebook. One of her classmates caught her drawing a human figure. To avoid further suspicion, she started drawing dresses suited for an equine figure. Mr. Loose Leaf, on the other side of the room, mistook drawing for Rarity note taking, and was pleased to record that Rarity was excelling in class.

Within a month, it was as though Rarity had been among them from the first day of school; an eccentric, and occasionally disdainful classmate, but one that for the most part played and got along with the rest of them.

Of all the foals in the class, Rarity found Flitter to be the most tolerable. Yes, she was a child, and preoccupied by childish inclinations, but there was a certain wit she possessed that found its way into cheeky, off-hand comments said under her breath, only so loud that Rarity could hear. “Geez, it’s a water fountain, not your marefriend,” she would mutter, as the two of them stood in line, waiting for Thunder Lane to finish slurping away at the water fountain. The sudden bouts of irreverence were amusing to Rarity in their own right, but they reminded her of a former human friend she kept the company, by the name of Lynn. The difference was, Lynn’s wit only shone through when her eyes were bright with drink, so her commentary was thrice as bawdy as Flitter, and half as well enunciated. Flitter was an odd replacement, but a good friend in her own right.

In fact, it was Flitter who drew in Moon Dancer, and made their duo into a trio. Rarity was still bristling over her horn comment, but the bad blood between them was soothed by Moon Dancer’s pleasant nature, and weakness for gossip. They had been her faithful friends through their schooling, up to the present day. Even when their jobs took them away from one another, they always gathered Tuesdays and Saturdays for lunch. Well, usually anyways. The last time they all had shared a meal was… before the Summer Sun Celebration, two years ago. Had it been that long?

A pang of guilt struck Rarity. It’s not that she had forgotten about the two, it’s just that since she started keeping the company of Twilight and the rest of their friends, she’s hadn’t had much time for checking up on old friends. She was keeping a small business afloat, in addition to managing all the adventures and internal drama that came with a motley crew like Twilight and company.

Rarity tucked away the old report card. Donning a sun hat, she made her way across town to Sugarcube Corner, her entrance a full two hours later than expected. She expected impatient faces when she arrived, cake marred with dripping candle wax. “Terribly sorry ladies, I just got caught up in some last minute chores,” she offered apologetically the moment she walked through the door.

Instead, she walked onto the floor with all the scenery half-assembled. Blue streamer covered only half of one wall. Wrappers for all sorts of goods were strewn about the floor. Pinkie was in the kitchen, singing some song or recipe to herself as her stirring kicked a cloud of flour onto the counter. Twilight and Fluttershy were red face, inflating balloons with stylized with a triad of diamonds, after Rarity’s own cutie mark. But it was Rainbow Dash, who was pinning a banner up who first noticed her.

“Um, surprise?” Rainbow said with a weak grin. Pinkie gasped loudly, whisk dropping from her mouth.

Twilight looked up. “Rarity! Happy B—”

“HI RARITY HAPPY BIRTHDAY,” Pinkie shouted shrill and frantic. Halfway through her salutation she unleashed a cannon full of confetti that left everypony’s ears ringing.

“Sorry Rarity, sit tight for a minute. It’s taking us longer than expected to set up,” Rainbow Dash said, as soon as the worst of the tinnitus faded.

“We would have been ready sooner if somepony actually followed the agenda, we might have been a little timelier,” Twilight said, glaring at Rainbow.

“Hey, I found those streamers as fast as I could. That party store was ginormous!”

“You didn’t even find the right colors!”

“If you needed certain colors, why would you send the only color-blind pony you know?” Dash said, glowering.

“I gave you a written list! I even included the hex codes for the colors. You could have compared the names.”

This naturally evolved into bickering between the two, whilst Pinkie Pie alternated between egging them on and preparing the icing. Fluttershy quickly excused herself to go and find Applejack. The birthday mare could only groan.

Rarity trotted over to Pinkie, and cleaned up some of the cooking supplies while Pinkie finished frosting the cake. Pinkie was humming one of her silly songs to herself, as she always did when she was not singing or speaking. It suddenly occurred to Rarity that this was the last normal moment she would ever have with Pinkie Pie: the annoying but unbelievably peppy friend with whom she’d never get to have an honest-to-god tea time with. She bit her lip as she glanced at the clock. She would have to fetch her strainer and tea bags, but by the time she ran home and back, it would be well past four in the afternoon. Too late for a luncheon tea. “But would it be too early for an evening drink?” she wondered aloud.

“Filly, Please,” Pinkie said, wrapping a forearm around Rarity’s neck. “I’ve been at it since I’ve started baking!” She produced a hip flask with her balloon triad cutie mark etched onto the side. “Sounds like somepony could use a swig of party juice!”

“Erm, Party Juice?”

“Two parts pink lemonade vodka, two parts sangria, three parts grenadine. My own brew!” Pinkie said, grinning with friendship and mild intoxication. “I’ve got a whole ‘nother bottle of the stuff under the sink!”

Rarity was inclined to say no, just on principle of such an odd combination of spirits. But Pinkie was offering more than just a poorly concocted mixed drink. She was offering her caring and friendship in the most Pinkie Pie sort of way. A pang of sadness filled Rarity’s heart, and out of the love she bore for Pinkie, she accepted the saccharine swill and drank as deeply as her taste buds would allow.

Rarity watched Pinkie finish her work. Something inside her was stirred by the drink, something that made her start questioning her absurd fate, something that loosened her tongue slightly. So she found herself asking the pink mare, “Pinkie, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about extra dimensional travel, would you?”

“Can’t say I’m an expert, but I’ll answer anyways!”

Rarity breathed a sigh of relief. Any other pony might have raised an eyebrow at such an odd question. But Pinkie was Pinkie enough to not even bat an eyelid. “What might cause a person to inexplicably find themselves in an unfamiliar body, in an unfamiliar world?”

Pinkie rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s that pony did something bad. Ooh, or maybe they were cursed by an evil enchantress! Or maybe they stumbled into a stargate, or accidentally opened a dimensional portal while trying to bake cupcakes!”

That took Rarity aback. The memory flashed before her eyes. There she was, a human once again, on that fateful birthday night. She was leaning against the bar, laughing hysterically at one of Rob’s jokes, unable to support herself in her throes of laughter and inebriation. She knocked over her drink, spilling it over the vaguely gothic bartender. In a more sober state, Rarity might have apologized, but back in those days, she was known for her vitriol. She let loose a tirade of rather unladylike language against him. The bar tender glowered at her, and began chanting something. “A curse I put upon thee for you to fear,” he warned in a dark, gravelly voice, casting some salt from the rim of a martini glass. “To walk in the skin of another, every twenty-two years…” At this point, Rarity had completely stopped paying attention, and was now back to snickering with Rob.

“Fascinating theory, Pinkie,” Rarity said absent-mindedly. She took another sip of party juice. So was she here as penance for one night of bad behavior that one night twenty-two years ago? If it wasn’t for that one insult, she wouldn’t be in this very moment, watching Rainbow Dash and Twilight argue over who was responsible for what checklist items.

Yet, as ridiculous as her friends were, Rarity had developed a certain fondness for them. A shame, really. She was just starting to enjoy all of their little escapades, taming dragons, and fighting changelings, all the what-have-you of having an alicorn princess, (and Pinkie Pie) among your circle of friends. She’d like to be back with her human friends in New York chatting over a nice glass of wine, but saving the kingdom was just as amusing of a diversion.

She attempted to reassure herself that she might end back up on Earth, and could see her human friends again, regardless Try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to wish that she had never cussed out that bartender.

“Are you planning on going somewhere extra dimensional?” the baker asked with a giggle. She retrieved the bottle of party juice, and poured each of them a glass.

It wasn’t tea, but somehow it was what Rarity needed. “You’re a good friend,” Rarity said.

Pinkie grinned, her eyes shining bright.

Two-thirds of a bottle later, The cake was frosted and the kitchen cleaned, Rainbow Dash and Twilight made amends, Fluttershy and Applejack reappeared with a surprisingly large quantity of liquor bottles and cider barrels, each marked with three cartoonish X’s and a disclaimer absolving the Apple family from any responsibility for the user’s drunken actions. Once the decorations were set up, they ushered the birthday filly outside so that she could start her birthday the proper way (it was a surprise party, after all).

Fluttershy led her into the kitchen. Rarity’s feigned surprise was well enough that all the ponies felt proud of their efforts. Rarity felt a little tipsy and resigned, but she hid it well enough for one last night with her friends.

After all this cake and celebration and time with her friends, she would be gone, whisked away, just as she was twenty-two years ago. She blew out the candles, and hugged each of them. She washed down the cake with some more party juice.

Applejack rolled a barrel onto the counter, and jammed a spout into its side. She had a mischievous look that Rarity wasn’t used to seeing. “Hey, Pinks, what do ya say about getting this party started the Apple family way?”

Pinkie bounced forward with a stack of solo cups, most of which made it into AJ’s grasp. “Yeparooni! Way ahead of you, Applesnack!”

It suddenly occurred to Rarity that beside herself and Pinkie, everyone else had started this party sober.

Comments

[Beowwulf]

Great so far but a few holes in the plot. Number one-if she was five when she came to equestria then she's only been there 17 years and is thus 39 not 44. Number two- really, a magic bartender who curses every customer that cusses him out? He must do that to at least 100 people a year. I'm sorry but that backstory is hard to believe.

Don't take my criticism the wrong way because I am a big fan of your work and I really am loving this story.

[Geminii]

5443978 Meh, the bartender bit might have been that a supernatural creature, anthropomorphic personification, or magical possession was stuck bartending for one night. Or that it was a normal gothic bartender whose curse only ever worked once every ten years when the stars aligned, or something. Or someone brought a make-curses-actually-work MacGuffin to the bar that night by accident. Or Rarity herself was magical and susceptible to suggestion when drunk, and cursed herself.

[Walabio]

5443978

When Rarity wakes tomorrow as a mare, she will realize that she forgot to take into account those 5 years, thus has 5 years to go. If she would explain her problem to Princess Twilight Sparkle, Princess Twilight Sparkle might be able to send her home or stablize her so that she can stay in Equestria. Speaking about Equestria:

Mine understanding is that Equestria is a nation. The fanon name for the world is Equus —— ¡the nonequines probably have something to say about the name! Equestria is the hyperpower of Equus —— ¡the 2 Royal PonySister can either bake other nations under never-ending sun or freeze them under never-ending night!