A Pony a Day

by OfTheIronwilled

Blow (8/9/2022)

Sweat rolled down Rarity’s mane, sopped into her coat cold and clammy. The metal rod in her mouth pinched at the edges of her lips, enough that the taste of rust seeped over her tongue. Still, she didn’t stop; she only threw her mane back as the sound of wood scraping against blazing fire filled her ears. Her magic manipulated the wooden block, her mouth and tongue deftly twisted the metal rod back and forth, and in another bolt of levitation there was a cane of gooey, viscous blue liquid trickling over her creation.

It had been hours, and still she didn’t stop to rest. As soon as this piece was done, breaking off the rod with a twitch of her neck and the delicate tink of a job well done, she simply floated it to stow away in the magic annealer and continued on.

This time, for this piece of the project… She hummed as she gazed out over bags of colored sand, dowels of hardened color in neat stacks. After a moment she whinnied in triumph, and picked out a simply darling shade of aqua. Now she just had to–

Rarity’s heart leapt into her throat as her hoof caught on a stray wood block on the floor. She stumbled, and as her magic fizzled and died, her instruments and ingredients tumbled out of the air all around her. With a squeal, she threw her hooves out in a desperate attempt to catch them before they hit the concrete–

They were all grabbed in a massive, meaty purple claw.

Spike, poking his gargantuan head and arms into the workshop, tutted at her, his finger extended to offer her tools back. Smoke rolled from his nostrils, layering on the heat thick and solid in the air.

“Careful, Rarity, you don’t have much of that color left. Are you sure you don’t want to take a break?”

Rarity primly grasped the offered elements in her magical grasp, snorting at him and gently stomping a hoof. Take a break? She shook the sweat from her mane in a shower of droplets, then trotted back to her work area. She was far too close to perfection for that.

And they all said that glass-blowing would be too “hooves-on” for the likes of her, especially at her - ahem - 'advanced age'. Ha! She would show the art world of Equestria and beyond what Mistress Rarity could really do when she set her mind to it.

“Nonsense, Spike,” she tittered, before mopping at her brow delicately with a handkerchief. “Now, be a dear and use your fire breath to reheat the kiln, would you?”