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33w, 2dTalk about a long time! 5 comments · 73 views
69w, 2hHeadcanon Updates 2 comments · 117 views
81w, 1dTaking Lots of Time 3 comments · 51 views
105w, 4dBreak Time is Over! 0 comments · 73 views
107w, 1dReaching the Mid-Way Point 1 comments · 55 views
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112w, 1dChapter 4 and History of Equestria 0 comments · 50 views
112w, 1dOn the FINAL subject of Chapter 3 0 comments · 48 views
"Sweetie Belle? Are you listening?"
The young filly shook her head and blinked a few times, feeling as if weights were attached to her eyes. Her sleepy gaze looked up to her big sister, her room shrouded in darkness save for a set of two candles on each side of her bed, each set in a decorative candle stand, likely something the fashionista pony had commissioned after designing it herself....it certainly had that 'Rarity' flair to it.
Sweetie Belle was tucked under the covers with her sister, the white-furred Unicorns curled up with each other to stay warm during such a cold Winter night, Rarity's larger form half-encircling Sweetie Belle's smaller body, with Sweetie's head resting against Rarity's side. She yawned and nestled in closer against Rarity's form, her eyes half-open while she cracked a smile. "Yeah....m'listenin', sis...." she muttered quietly, laying her head down on the bed once more.
Rarity sighed inwardly, knowing she was on the verge of passing out, not to mention the story was basically done. She didn't want to rouse her little sister by not finishing it though, so she almost silently cleared her throat and continued. A small book was floating in front of her, the light aura of her magic surrounding the edges of it, the last page of it open. "Alright....hm, where was I....? Oh, yes! Though the little filly loved her grandmare very much, she knew that her grandmother had died happy, and proud of her as she had told her....so, crying with renewed joy, the now grown-up mare drew the most magnificent picture of her grandmare she possibly could in memory of her, and it became known as her greatest work....the end."
Sweetie Belle's eyes were closed once more, but she was still awake, barely. A warm smile adorned her features, her able to hear Rarity putting the book away. "Oh, what ever shall I do with you, Sweetie Belle....? My next order's going to be late because of you...." she said in a surprisingly warm way, only using her magic to put the book away, her hoof gently caressing over the top and back of her head. Sweetie only murred and pressed her cheek more firmly into her sister's side. "Hmmn, sorry sis....jus' wanted to spend time with you...." she mumbled quietly.
Rarity hmm'ed with a pleasant tone, yawning and nestling more comfortably into the bed, her neck curling somewhat and her foreleg resting over Sweetie Belle's back, pulling her in closer, eliciting a gentle murr from the little filly. "....Nnnloveyou, sister...." the young one mumbled, a quiet snore rising up from her in time. Rarity easily listed it as one of the most adorable things she could possibly do. Soon the fashionista joined her sister in Slumberland, mentally preparing herself for another day of work, once this night was over. 'At least I got to spend time with Sweetie Belle.'
"Sweetie Belle....? Sweetie Belle, you need to wake up now~!"
The little Unicorn groaned quietly, not wanting to open her eyes. "Whuh....? But you just read me a story...." she mumbled, but she felt a more insistent nudging trying to force her away from the comfort she felt so nestled into. "Come on! You're on in five minutes, miss Belle!"
Moments passed as the white-furred Unicorn roused from her slumber, her mind slowly becoming aware of its surroundings while her eyes blinked open. Wincing and rubbing her head with one of her forehooves, her vision slowly sharpened and shook off its blurriness, only to show her a reflected image of herself, make-up smudged around her eyes, fresh tears staining her cheeks and coloring her white fur a black color. "I'm sorry ma'am, it sounded like a good dream...."
She turned her head quickly and saw her new assistant, a young mare like herself, standing next to her. The sounds of the crew were all around her now, the hustle and bustle of hushed preparation while the speaker currently on-stage went over the evening's highlights. She was to be the first on-stage, the opening act, she remembered now. "Oh, no. Where's my make-up crew?!" she said almost frantically. "M-my face, I need my make-up re-done!" she said to her assistant, not even knowing the mare's name yet. Sweetie Belle sat up more properly, rubbing her cheek to get the blood collected there to go away. Her make-up crew joined her soon after, her closing her eyes and feeling little padded styluses tracing along the edges of her eyelids and over the bags under her eyes, eliminating all signs of fatigue from her visage, along with the fact that she just woke up from an impromptu nap.
She didn't even remember falling asleep! One moment she was thinking about Rarity while examining herself in her vanity mirror, then....well, then she....she faded to black. The tears hadn't skipped over her notice, she was just used to them now. She felt as if she were in an eternal grieving. It had been twelve years, but still, that night stood out as one of her most prominent dreams. Looking to the clock, then to her assistant, the young mare nodded to her, Sweetie Belle getting up and walking towards the side entrance to the stage. "What's your name, by the way....?" she asked with no small amount of curiosity, her voice hushed like everypony else's.
Her assistant smiled and held out a hoof to her once they were standing there, prepared and ready to get out there and tear up the audience with another of Sweetie Belle's performances. "I'm Scribble, miss Belle! Pleased to be your assistant," she said, touching hooves with Sweetie Belle and shaking a few times. Sweetie nodded, giving her a quick once-over. The young mare had a Cutie Mark akin to a canvas, with a writing quill making an inkblot over said canvas. Her cream-colored mane and almost pitch-black coat of fur made her a very distinct pony, compared to most others.
The moment they said her name, she was ushered onto the stage, but was only motioned forward by the pony standing on the side, with the headset on. She stepped with a quiet clop of her shoe-adorned hooves along the stage, the crowd watching her with an almost expectant glare. She didn't pay them any mind though, and instead dwelled on the lyrics of her most recent composition, playing them over and over in her head. Finally, when the lights dimmed and the Unicorns in charge of the lighting and visual effects went into action, she closed her eyes and went into her own little world. Her world of memories and thoughts and feelings, a deep breath leaving her before she approached the microphone.
Her body was covered in one of Rarity's most prestigious dresses, one of the oldest designs, old enough to be new once more. A beautiful golden dress that sparkled like a cloth diamond in the spotlight. Her Cutie Mark was emblazoned upon its side, the dress developed specifically for her among many others by her sister, a slight alteration to the normal design of the garment, an alteration that was clearly done with intense focus and care. Her Cutie Mark showed a single stylish microphone with her fur and mane color decorating it, and a miniature theatre stage behind it, with a small spotlight in the center just behind the mic.
As her mouth opened, the audience sat in awe, watching and listening as words flowed from her lips like honey dripping from her tongue. Every sound bubbled forth with exquisite grace and fluidity, the song striking everypony in the crowd and on the working crew to the core, eliciting deep and uncontrollable feelings of love first, then sadness, and then a light joy once more, a determined kind of joy that made anypony listening feel uplifted and capable. For such a slow and deep, introspective song, that's saying quite a bit. Then again, Sweetie Belle's musical genius has almost always been at the forefront of her talents.
As she went silent, the crowd sat in awe, watching and waiting to see if there was more. When she curled one foreleg and bowed to all of them, a mass of clopping filled the entire theatre, more than a few ponies crying as they did so. All were so enthralled with her that many were disappointed when she left the stage, but she was starting to cry, and she refused to do an encore. Trying her best to hide her face, she rushed to her dressing room and quickly began to change out of her outfit, folding it as neatly as she could with the tears starting to overtake her vision, her assistant knocking on her dressing room door. "Miss Belle, are you alright? It's not like you to deny an encore."
She looked away from her pristinely-folded dress, gazing in the direction of the door just before she started to wipe away her tears, only to quickly grab a tissue instead and dab them away, trying her best not to smudge her freshly-applied make-up once more. "I-I'm just fine, Scribble! You may come in if you wish!" she said, trying to retain her lady-like upbringing around her big sister as much as possible. Scribble opened the door and stepped inside quickly, hearing the paparazzi making their way down the hall. Grabbing a chair, she barred the door, bracing her hooves against it to put her body weight towards keeping it closed as well.
Her instincts were correct, she both heard and felt at least three of them push hard against the door while turning the knob, likely to get the most indignant looks out of Sweetie Belle that they could in a single instant, just so that they could apply the most ridiculous spins to their news about her that they could, complete with matching 'how dare you!' photo. Once they had gone, she was satisfied with the fact that they would have to deal with using stock footage of her walking down the street, like the glorified stalkers she knew they were.
She let out a sigh and turned to Sweetie Belle, who had already changed into her casual clothes for Cantlerlot, which was a far less meaningful dress than the one that she wore on-stage, this one a single purple color and nothing more, definitely not one of Rarity's designs. "Miss Belle, are yo-" she began to say, but Sweetie Belle cut her off. "Just call me Sweetie Belle, okay? You're the replacement, right?" she asked, and Scribble nodded. "Yes, I am. Your previous assistant quit, yes?" she asked, eliciting a nod from Sweetie. Scribble, a Unicorn as well, since their kind were common in Canterlot, picked up Sweetie's things and opted to carry them for her. "As I was saying....are you ready to leave, ma'am? You seem to be in a rush tonight."
Sweetie Belle nodded to her, taking the time to remove the chair from the door, two guards waiting outside her door and blocking off the paparazzi that stayed nearby for when she came out of hiding. She didn't change her expression, just staying deadpan as she walked down the hall opposite the camera-menacing ponies, heading out the back of the theatre and towards a waiting magical carriage. She and her assistant stepped in quickly, seeing more paparazzi coming their way. Scribble knocked on the section of the carriage behind the drivers. "Back to the hotel, gentleponies!" she called out to them, the carriage soon rushing through the streets of Canterlot.
Sweetie Belle was near-silent the entire way back to the hotel. She had no showings coming up for at least a week, and just one interview the day after tomorrow. Plenty of time to herself for once. Plenty of time to sit home and relax. Plenty of time to think. As the carriage came to a halt, Scribble opened the side door and let Sweetie Belle out, Scribble's horn lighting up once more and lifting her employer's things up and walking into the hotel alongside her, an expression of concern painted on Scribble's face. "Miss B-....Sweetie Belle, I can tell something is bothering you. Would I be overstepping my boundaries by asking what's wrong?"
She wanted to snap at the new hire. She wanted to tell Scribble 'it's none of your BUCKING business!', but she didn't have it in herself to be that way. Not tonight. Tonight was an anniversary of the worst kind, and she normally didn't do shows on this day, but she needed the money. "Yes, Scribble, something's bothering me a lot. Do you know who my sister is?" she asked, looking to the black-coated Unicorn with glassy eyes, her head slightly lower to the ground than it normallly would be. Her steps were labored and lazy, as if she couldn't be bothered to will her legs to lift any higher while she walked.
Scribble thought for only a moment, then nodded to her as they stepped into the hotel lobby, which was thankfully devoid of any annoying camera-wielding ponies for once. Apparently her attempts to hide where she was staying for the night, changing the location at the very, VERY last second, finally kept them off of her back for at least one night of peace. "Yes, miss Rarity, right? The Pony to Know, the Mare of Fashion? The single most successful fashionista in the past fifty years?" she said with some slight amount of fanmare-ism. It was in that moment that Sweetie Belle noticed the hat sitting on Scribble's head, likely put on in the carriage. It was one of Rarity's newest designs.
"Yeah....she died six years ago. Today," Sweetie Belle said, causing Scribble to freeze up and go wide-eyed, her mouth slack-jawed for a moment. She quickly rushed down the corridor when she noticed Sweetie Belle walking further and further away. "I-I am so sorry ma'am, I had no-I-I mean I....I am very sorry," Scribble quickly said, trying to regain her composure. "I am so sorry I gushed like that, I shouldn't have done that. If you need anypony to talk to, I'll be in my room down the hall all night, I promise-" she continued, but once again, Sweetie Belle cut her off. "It's alright, Scribble....just put my things in my room, and get some sleep, we're heading back to Ponyville tomorrow. I'll see you in the morning."
Scribble, with a certain fear for her job now, nodded and swallowed the lump in her throat, carrying her employer's things inside and setting them down and out of the way. She eyed the sewing machine sitting on the table next to where the television was, but said nothing about it, though she did note how old it seemed to be. As Sweetie Belle entered, Scribble stepped out and bade her good night, and closed the door.