Previous Chapters Next
Close
Chapter I1,234 words
Chapter II1,105 words
Chapter III872 words
Chapter IV1,481 words
Chapter V1,674 words
Chapter VI710 words
Chapter VII923 words
Chapter VIII1,500 words
Chapter IX1,220 words
Chapter X1,019 words
Epilogue98 words

Chapter V

Applebloom mentally replayed her visit with Fluttershy many times, alternately stricken with anger and sorrow for her family friend. When repeated retrospect failed to yield any comforting insights about Fluttershy's secluded lifestyle, she distracted herself with the minutae of the conversation. Few words had passed between them, but one detail held fast to her flailing thoughts, until she realized it was an idea:

She could visit Rarity.

The fashonista had always been bound for a life of wealth and class, thought Applebloom. And she was far too strong-willed to submit to the whims of some dilletante thoroughbred. Rarity even lived in Canterlot these days, owing to her drive to join the beating heart of the fashion world.

To Applebloom's surprise, however, no one had heard of her. She wandered through all the mercantile streets of Canterlot, it seemed, searching for boutiques bearing a familiar name. What proprietors she asked assured her that they had never heard the name Rarity as they pushed this street urchin out of their stores.

With each visit, she was swept further and further toward the southern districts of Canterlot, a downward gradient in both elevation and socioeconomics. Here, on the periphery of the capital, crowded the homes of Canterlot's working class, the bedroom of the laborers and serviceponies of the city.

As dusk blanketed the city, Applebloom began searching for an untrafficked corner for the night. Many were already claimed by ponies far more threatening than she, and others by more than their share of feral rats. A mangy grey feline startled Applebloom as it leapt out of the darkness, snatching up an unfortunate rodent.

Applebloom would have ignored the cat, if not for one perplexing detail: it was wearing a pink satin dress. Strange for any cat, but stranger for one as unhealthy as this one. Though Applebloom had no great fondness for the spectacle of a cat feeding on its catch, she couldn't help but stare at the disjointed appearance of this street animal. What was it, a homeless hunter or a vicious, underfed pet?

While she pondered this, another mystery arose—which is to say, another well-dressed cat. A black cat wearing cuffs about its paws and a folded collar, swooped in and snatched up the bulk of the remaining cadaver. The grey cat, unwilling to surrender its prize, leaped after the thief, and a chase began: two feuding cats, burning a trail through the Canterlot slums, and Applebloom, galloping bewilderedly behind them.

The pursuit concluded with the two belligerents darting into a cat door of a beaten-up apartment on a dull corner. Applebloom slid to a halt at the sight of the place, not for its architecture but for its population: a veritable city of clothed cats. Scarves, hats, blouses, vests, and boots bolted this way and that across the path, up a tree, or under the front stair, all buttoned, tied, or clipped onto cats of varying complacency.

Applebloom noticed the name on the mailbox and gasped.

RARITY

She couldn't immediately figure if this was divine or hideous luck on her part, but Applebloom followed the only path she could (specifically, the one in front of her) and rang the doorbell. As the two-tone call echoed inside the house, several felines darted in no clear or common direction, and a familiar, cultivated accent called out from within. "Coming, darling!"

Applebloom took a moment to inspect herself, suddenly concerned that she may look too rough to entertain. On the other hand, she thought, a polished appearance wouldn't exactly suit her purpose. It occurred to her that she may very well have been holding an internal debate on proper etiquette for begging a cat lady for alms.

The door swung wide open, revealing an explosion of purple and white. The unicorn standing in the doorway couldn't be called young by any conventional standards, yet every aspect of her appearance lied shamelessly to the contrary. Her figure, happily introduced itself as thin and well-managed, but on inspection revealed itself to be in fact bony and underweight. Her face advertised youthful exuberance but hid crows feet and age lines under a mask of concealer and eyeliner. Her thick purple mane weaved a beautiful fiction of color and volume, a bold-faced deceit built on hair dye and mousse.

"Why, hello, stranger," she began, a thoughtful look on her face. "What can Rarity do for you today? Have you come to commission my work? Perhaps to browse my previous creations? Don't they just look adorable on my little kitty friends?"

"Rarity," said Applebloom, uneasily. "It's me, Applebloom."

The unicorn paused for a beat, waning pensive as she scanned some internal catalogue. Slowly, a look of recognition materialized. "Applebloom! Why, I haven't seen you in years! Please, come in; let me give you an exclusive discount. I'll design something to show off that splendid figure of yours and maybe to hide that unfortunate blemish."

"That's my cutie mark," said Applebloom, flatly.

"Oh." Rarity retreated a few steps, holding the door for her guest. "Well, do come in, anyway; we simply must catch up!"

If the front walk was a city of cats, the interior was an absolute metropolis. There were appareled cats running on the uneven wooden stairs, sleeping by the cast iron radiator, batting at the shredded pink tablecloth, and howling at the unprepared foreign pony that had just entered their midst. Underneath a thick layer of shed fur, a kitchen, nook, and studio cried out for death.

Rarity bat not one of her extended eyelashes at the mess, but trotted swiftly over to a sewing machine in the far corner, occupied by more feline livery and a single, elderly cat, which Rarity began coddling. "Opalescence, you naughty thing, you know you're not supposed to be up here! You'll ruin all of Mommy's hard work. You wouldn't want that, now would you?"

Applebloom's concern deepened with every passing whisker.

"Now, tell me, Applebloom, how is your older sister doing these days?" inquired Rarity, in exaggerated tones.

Applebloom explained her purpose quickly, as if speaking quickly might bring her closer to the end of her visit.

"Oh, dear," said Rarity, her mood descending. "I had no idea things had become so . . . distasteful."

"We'd all hoped for more," said Applebloom. “Actually, I came to Canterlot to ask for help from some of my sis’s friends.”

"Well, I have good news for you: Rarity is going to help you. I don't have the money on hand—a momentary inconvenience, you can be sure—but I'm sure any day now I'll have the capitol to move my shop back onto main street. I just need a few modernly minded patrons is all; word of mouth will do the rest. Rarity's Canterlot Carousel Boutique is just waiting to take off! And what could be better for business than a charitable cause? From now on, twenty percent of every purchase goes toward ponies in need!"

Applebloom nodded weakly. "That's very kind of you, Rarity. I'm sure Applejack will be mighty grateful when the money comes in. In the meantime . . . is Sweetie Belle around?" Applebloom begged inwardly that her old friend had not fallen victim to her elder sister's madness.

Rarity postured wistfully. "She was for a while. It's my fault, really, what happened to her. I tried to look after her, like a big sister ought, but I let her slip away. When my downtown shop began to struggle one dreadful season, we had something of a falling out. She said she couldn't stand living in such a decaying place anymore. She got a job at a nightclub, singing her heart out every other night, met a boy, and moved in with him. I told her she'd have been better off doing something cultured—opera, maybe—but she wouldn't have it; she fell head over hoof into a world of jazz and alcohol.

"And wouldn't you know it? She made it big. Became a real sensation, got the one thing she desperately didn't need at that age: fame. I tried to be happy for her, but it was hard to watch her swept up by Canterlot nightlife. I wouldn't see her for months at a time, until, one fateful evening, I got a visit from the police. Sweetie Belle had been arrested for possession at a private party, and, as next of kin, I was the only one to pay bail. It cost me the last of the funds for the downtown shop, but I brought her home.

"I thought she'd appreciate it more than she did, that I'd have a chance to set her back on the straight and narrow, but she was absolutely incensed at having to stay with her dear old sis. She tolerated living here until her court date, when she was ordered to attend rehab. As soon as that was over, she went right back to the clubs. She found her own places to stay, and she vanished all over again. The police visited me again, not too long after, but this time I didn't have the money to bring her home. It's just as well; at trial, they sentenced her to a year in Canterlot prison. Oh, it just kills me to think of my beautiful sister, rotting away behind bars!"

Rarity dove into a clamor of histrionic sobs, her mascara smearing as she wiped away her tears. Applebloom, crestfallen herself at the story of her foalhood friend, moved to console her host.

"Oh, no, don't worry about me," said Rarity, striving to regain her composure. "I'll be fine. After all, I still have Opal and her friends to keep me company. Oh, look at me; you've come to me for help, and here I am, a total wreck."

"It's all right," offered Applebloom. "I still have other friends of the family to find here in Canterlot. Didn't Pinkie Pie open a shop here, too?"

Rarity's tears ceased abruptly, and her face went a shade whiter than the makeup that covered it. "Oh, you poor dear. You haven't heard."

3,704 views

242

Previous Chapters Next