Light Lunchtime Conversation from a Fillydelphia-Bound Train at Exactly Two-Fifteen in the Afternoon
“CA-CHUNK, CA-CHUNK.”
Rarity grimaced as the train car bounced over a poorly joined track, the ledge of the junction jumping under hoof, metal fittings across the harness she currently wore under an overcoat clinking in sympathy. After a pause to ensure the next join was a little smoother, she took the step, sliding open the door and entering the dining car. She scanned the room from under the brim of her sun-hat; a mint-green unicorn stallion staffed the bar, a couple sat in the farthest booth, which, judging by the fact that neither one’s face was visible were clearly very interested in each other, a shock of prismatic hair flowed from –
Bingo. “Ah. There you are.” Rarity trotted towards the booth, quietly pleased that she had located her quarry. The two had distinctly not boarded together; as befitted a professional mare, Rarity had arrived at the station at exactly the listed time for the train’s arrival. In contrast, Rainbow Dash, she suspected, had snuck on late via the air. “And here I had thought you had merely gotten lost in the lavatory.”
Rainbow Dash turned her head around in the booth, eyeing the approaching unicorn with bemused confusion. “Uh, duh, where else would I be? It’s lunchtime.”
Rarity slid into the opposite booth, her seat rendered slightly uncomfortable by the unfamiliar presence of a chaste tail bun. The iconic curl required a careful magical touch to pull off, and, as going totally au naturel was obviously out of the question, a loose wrap would suffice for the moment. She squirmed from side to side.
Rainbow Dash chuckled, eyes not looking up from scanning a short menu. “What, you sit on a rock or something?”
“When one has spent her whole life sitting on naught but a flat tail, anything poses some level of discomfort,” Rarity explained, eyeing the clock above the bar. “And do spare me your incredulous remarks. It’s not lunchtime.”
“What?” Rainbow Dash put down the menu. “Of course it’s lunchtime. What do you mean?”
“Lunchtime is between eleven in the morning and one-thirty in the afternoon.” Rarity pointed gently with a hoof towards the wall above the bar. “It’s two-fifteen.”
“Lunch stops being lunch at two-fifteen?” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes. “Last time I checked, lunch was lunch regardless of when you eat it. It just has to happen between breakfast and dinner.”
“Obviously not,” Rarity scoffed. “Lunch is not defined by such vague terms as that, at least in polite society. There are rules for these kind of things, you know.”
“Polite society?” Rainbow Dash gestured with wide hooves towards the contents of the train car. “Rarity, we’re on a train, not in the palace.” She pointed towards the couple, who had almost entirely migrated onto the table between them. “The only other ponies in here are the bartender and, like, the winners of the Equestrian face-mashing contest.”
“Any company I am in is intrinsically polite company, Rainbow, even if others present do not realize it” Rarity affirmed. “Thus, it is not lunchtime.”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Rainbow Dash picked the menu back up. “Do you want something or not?”
Rarity sighed. “Rainbow, I just explained to you why this inherently cannot be lunchtime.”
“Not the question. And considering that you’ve been on this train for exactly as long as I have, Rares, and haven’t eaten yet, I’m betting that you’re just as hungry as I am.” She beckoned the attendant over with a hoof. “So I ask again; do you want anything?”
Rarity raised a hoof in protest. “Once again, I–” she lowered her hoof, stomach audibly growling. Social conventions were a strong motivator, but biological ones were an even stronger one. “Actually, on second thought, yes, ah, do go ahead and order for me as well,” she contradicted herself with a slightly embarrassed grin.
“That’s what I thought,” Rainbow Dash said with a smirk.
The attendant arrived by the table side, a notebook and quill held in his field. “What will the–” a slight lip quiver “–lovely ladies be having?”
Rarity gave him an appreciative eyebrow raise. The flattery was obvious, but she was taking what she could get at this point. Rainbow Dash glowered at the stallion, not quite so accepting; she continued nonetheless. “We’ll just have, uhhhhhhh…" She ran a hoof down the page. "One of, uh, each of these.”
“One of each?” The stallion raised an eyebrow.
“That’s what I said.” Rainbow Dash passed him the menu. “And a water.” She turned to Rarity. “You want anything?”
“Considering I haven’t seen the menu – thank you, by the way, very helpful – I suppose I’m limited to drink service.” She turned to the stallion. “I presume you are knowledgeable enough to know your standard cocktails, yes?”
The stallion nodded. “So long as your preferred libations do not require magical components, ma’am, I can fulfill any request.”
“Swell.” Rarity leaned back into her booth, fetching a pack of cigarettes from one of her saddlebags. “A White Lady with your driest gin, with the egg, a Prench soixante-quinze, long pour on the cognac, and, ah, two ashtrays, please.”
“Of course.” The stallion frowned. “I am afraid I cannot supply you with any ashtrays, however.”
“Oh?” Rarity froze, box halfway inverted above a waiting hoof.
“Unfortunately, ma’am, smoking is prohibited in the dining car.” He shrugged apologetically. “Sorry.”
Rarity took a deep breath, blinking a few times. “Well!” She put the pack back into her saddlebags. “I suppose I can manage for a few more hours, then. Do double the drinks, though, if you would, for both our sakes, hmm?”
“Of course.” The attendant nodded. “Expect your lunch in about twenty minutes. Would your prefer your drinks beforehand, or with the meal?”
“I suppose with four of them it doesn’t really matter. Two and two?” Rarity asked.
With another curt nod, the bartender stepped off soundlessly, returning to his post behind the bar and grabbing a few bottles from the wall with his field.
“Four drinks?” Rainbow Dash eyed Rarity skeptically. “It’s two-fifteen and we have, like, a full day ahead of us.”
“Don’t worry about that, darling.” Rarity chuckled. “Being in high society is only really five percent taste and elegance. Ninety-five percent of it is social drinking, and I am something of a pro at – oh!” Rarity theatrically face-hooved. “I forgot to specify the, ah–” she turned to face the bartender, waving a hoof “–yoo-hoo, bartender? Do pick something sweeter for the champagne, yes? Thank you.”
The bartender nodded in affirmation, replacing his selected bottle with a different one grabbed from the wall.
“It matters?” Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow. “Isn’t champagne just champagne?”
“Heavens, no!” Rarity recoiled in hurt. “Obviously not. There are dozens of styles, and one would hate to look like a rube in polite company by mixing up varieties.”
“Well, duh, obviously your frou-frou stuff matters to your frou-frou friends. I’m asking if it matters now.”
“Naturally.” Rarity relaxed into the booth, unbuttoning her overcoat. “I prefer my sidecars outrageously dry, so one must prepare something suitably sweet to properly cleanse the palate to ensure a full tasting experience.”
“Uh-huh.” Rainbow dash looked skeptical. “Cleansing your palate from the booze. With more booze.”
“They’re vastly different cocktails, dear.”
“It’s booze. It’s not that different.” Rainbow Dash shrugged. “You drink it, it’s pretty much the same.”
“Oh sure. And the Wonderbolt’s routine does not, in fact, feature a meticulously choreographed double Immlemare into a side slip followed by a lag roll but, in actuality, is a succession of the same little moves through the air which are, as you say, pretty much the same.”
Fortunately, the booth’s table kept Rainbow Dash’s jaw from hitting the floor.
“Do close your mouth, dear. It’s unbecoming.” Rarity chuckled. “And don’t be too impressed, I’ve heard that little orange urchin you adore so much chattering to my sister enough to have the whole routine memorized, even if I don’t know what any of it means.”
Considerably less impressed, Rainbow Dash did as she was told, shutting her mouth and sitting back into her chair.
“Now, what did you end up ordering us, hmm? Hopefully nothing too gauche.”
“It’s a surprise.” Rainbow Dash answered, intentionally not answering the question both because it would spoil the surprise and because she didn’t know what the word gauche meant. “But you’ll like it. It’s, like, trendy and fashionable.”
“Trendy?” Rarity raised an eyebrow. “And here I thought you had merely ordered twelve servings of hay fries as usual. Color me impressed.” She frowned. “Although I am still a little peeved you deemed me incapable of ordering my own food.”
“Not incapable.” Rainbow Dash waved a hoof around in dismissal. “Just, like, sometimes really dumb about it, so I took the option to not let you screw it up.”
“So only occasionally incapable, then?” Rarity asked, unamused. “What a stellar vote of confidence. Do elaborate, if you would.”
“Well, we’re going to be running around the city trying to get from the station to the ship, right?” Rainbow Dash explained.
“Unfortunately.” Rarity sighed. “It’s something of a trek, if I recall from my last time in Fillydelphia.” Rarity thought for a moment. “Of course, I was a rather small foal at the time, so my steps were, er, multiplied by a short stature.”
“Yeah, well anyway, I knew you’d probably order something tiny and girly like a dry side salad, because you’re uncomfortable about how fat your ass has gotten–”
Rarity growled a warning.
Rainbow continued unabashed, either out of outstanding courage or utter cluelessness. “–and then you’d complain as soon as we started walking about how hungry it was making you, and we’d have to stop somewhere while I pretended not to notice you throw down a basket of fries, and we’d end up being late to the ship and getting chewed out by the princess.” She paused for a moment. “Did I miss anything?” Rainbow Dash shrugged. “Because I’m pretty sure I’m correct, right? We don’t go on too many adventures together, but that’s pretty much what the other girls told me.”
“Frustratingly so. How generous of them,” Rarity said through clenched teeth, mentally running through which of her friends she could take in a bout of fisticuffs. “But I suppose you’re right, infuriatingly,” she added, relaxing into the booth and separating her teeth, “I am wont of, er, snacking, and I have, on occasion, rendered a group slightly late by my diversions, the consequences of which would be catastrophic today.”
“Well then, like, go me for being forward thinking, eh?” Rainbow Dash jokingly struck a heroic pose. “Rainbow Dash, multi-time savior of Equestria, fastest pony alive, star of a thousand bedroom posters, and, like, good at ordering food.”
“Oh, wonderful. As if you needed anything else to brag about.” Rarity rolled her eyes. “And here I thought you’d nearly run out of accolades.” A stout highball and spindly coupe glass appeared in front of Rarity, the fleeting presence of the waiter as unnoticeable as would be expected of a suitably crack server on a high-class train. The 75 fizzed appropriately, a twirl of lemon swirling around a cube of ice. The White Lady was far less dramatic, the silky drink an impressively uniform shade of stark white which nearly matched the coat of its owner.
“Whoa.” Rainbow Dash blinked a few times. “Okay, never mind, you might have been onto something, those look expensive. My, uh, understanding of booze usually begins at ‘clear’ and ends at ‘toilet.’”
“How sophisticated, and done properly, yes, they are.” She eyed the narrow-bottomed coupe glass, extending a cautious hoof towards the cocktail.
“What, are you afraid it’s going to bite ya’?” Rainbow Dash chuckled. “Just, like, pick it up.”
“Don’t rush me, Rainbow,” Rarity shot back. “A lady takes her time with these things.”
“A lady takes her time, like, picking things up?” Rainbow Dash snorted once. “Dang, being a lady sounds like it sucks.”
Rarity ignored her, wrapping the impossibly thin stem in the crook of her hoof and lifting it shakily into the air. She managed an inch or so before it fell back to the table, bouncing once and spilling a few drops onto the previously impeccable tablecloth. “Damnit!” she swore under her breath, cheeks flushing in embarrassment.
“You good?” Rainbow Dash looked on in concern as Rarity flexed her hoof.
“No, I just, ah–” Rarity turned back to the bartender. “Ah, would you mind providing a straw, plea–”
Without looking up from washing glasses, the bartender sent two thin cocktail straws towards the booth at a measured but sizable pace, both slipping into their respective drinks with not even the slightest of noises.
“Dang, he’s good.” Rainbow Dash shook her head in amazement. “I hope they’re paying him enough, ‘cause this guy is like the me of making drinks on a train.”
“Judging by the prices we’re paying for this, I suspect he is tipped handsomely.” Rarity leaned towards her drinks, eyes shooting from one to the other in indecision before settling on the White Lady, drawing down to the straw and pulling a dainty sip. Her eyes shot wide open, then settled into a pleasured half-lid as she slumped down the booth.
Rainbow Dash gave a half smile. “That good, huh?”
“That good.” Rarity moaned, going back for another sip.
“Yeah, I bet.” Rainbow Dash coughed once. “You, uh, never answered my question, though.”
“What, about being, as you said, ‘good?’” Rarity scoffed audibly. “Rainbow, you could tell me I’m being executed via burning at the stake in an hour right now and I’d still be at least passably satisfied until this drink ran out.”
“No, not that kind of good,” Rainbow Dash countered, unusually serious. “Like, ‘gee, that adult mare sure has trouble picking up a glass, I wonder if she is, like, okay’ good.”
“Thanks for the insult. I’m glad my sudden foalish clumsiness has somepony amused, at least.” Rarity bent down towards the other glass.
“You know that’s not what I meant, Rares.” Rainbow Dash leaned across the table. “We’re friends–”
“Ostensibly.” Rarity took a sip. As requested, it was perfectly sweet.
“–I watch out for my friends. And you clearly aren’t okay.”
“Really?” Rarity shrugged. “I thought I was doing at least decently, honestly.”
“Okay mares can write their name and pick up glasses.” Rainbow Dash eyed Rarity’s hat. “And they definitely don’t have whatever’s going on under that happening.”
Rarity pondered that for a moment. It was a fair point. “Well, I suppose you are probably correct. I must admit I have, ah, looked and felt better.”
“I’m not talking about looks, Rarity, even if I did, uh, call you, um–”
Rarity snorted bemusedly. “I believe your term was ‘white-hot dogshit?’ Very creative, by the way.”
“Yeah, well, that’s one thing, Rares.” Rainbow Dash shook her head. “But there’s a lot worse than that. You’ve got a piece of gauze strapped across your face, you’re covered in bruises, your horn looks like you’ve got crotch-rot on your forehead, and you’re going through Mareboro’s like they’re water. Like, none of that is normal.” Rainbow Dash spread her hooves wide in exasperation. “And I all I know is that somehow you and Fluttershy had some kind of friggin’ crazy adventure with Princess Luna or something and now you both look like you’ve been out wrestling thorn bushes that are, like, on fire.”
“Not entirely incorrect, as both were involved.” Rarity shrugged. “But discretion is a virtue, Rainbow, especially considering the circumstances.”
“Rarity,” Rainbow Dash deadpanned. “Rarity, we’re going to be stuck on a ship for the next week and a half or so. We both know I’m going to figure it out eventually.”
Rarity paused for a moment, obviously thinking about whether or not Rainbow Dash actually would figure it out, before evidently deciding there was a pretty good chance of that happening. “Okay, fine,” she sighed, adjusting her hat. “I suppose you ought to know, although I am skeptical of what good could come of it.”
“Outside of me knowing, like, how to help you not hurt yourself further, or whatever weird stuff you need to fix your horn?”
Rarity furrowed her brow. “Hmm, you may have a point.” In all honesty, she hadn’t thought about just how much help Fluttershy had provided her over the past few days, and while she had recovered considerably in the time since the adventure, she undoubtedly would still require some assistance. She inhaled sharply, straightening up in her booth. “Right! Well, color me convinced. Would you prefer the short version or the medium version?”
Rainbow Dash cocked her head in confusion. “Can I get, like, the long version?”
“Unfortunately not, at least not yet.” Rarity looked around the train car. The bartender was presently missing, but the highly enthusiastic couple were still very much present, and still very much eschewing all public decency in favor of a spirited round of tonsil hockey. “There are, er, legal considerations as far as that is concerned, both personal and national.”
“Oh.” Rainbow Dash’s eyes widened. “Okay, uh, dang, that’s kinda more serious than I expected.”
“Hence my earlier trepidation.” Rarity rolled her eyes. “Now, the short or medium?”
“Uh, short?” Rainbow Dash offered. “Especially if I’m getting the long version later.”
“You are.” Rarity took a deep breath and cleared her throat. “Well, the short of it is that Twilight is a moron, Luna is also a moron, albeit tinged with a healthy amount of piteousness, Fluttershy, as a result of royal incompetence, had an, er, beaked visitor one morning, I, and my property, got wrapped up into the whole sordid affair, the Everfree has exactly one less manticore than before, I was rendered unconscious via application of tree to face, then tied to said tree, discovered an innate knack for turning my face into a flamethrower, trekked out of the woods, and became Equestria’s foremost slayer of foreign dignitaries.” She sniffed once. “Then I was treated by Ponyville General’s finest doctors, looted Twilight for, well, most everything, really, saw Luna again, got a most deserved comital title, and, ah, you know the rest.”
Rainbow Dash looked back, slightly opened mouthed, obviously deep in thought.
“Well, dear?” Rarity asked, dipping back down to her drinks. “Satisfied? Questions?”
“Uhhhh…” Rainbow Dash scratched her head with a wing. “Yes? Several?” She blinked a few times. “And that’s the short version? What’s the medium version?”
“The same thing, but with more swearing,” Rarity answered. “Would you prefer that one? I don’t think I’ve used the word ‘cunt’ yet today, so I’m slightly behind quota.”
“N-no?” Rainbow Dash shook her head. “I just, uh, have some questions, probably?”
“Such as?” Rarity took a sip. “It’s all on the metaphorical table now, dear, so ask away.”
Rainbow Dash went with the obvious first. “Slayer of–”
“Ah, not that one,” Rarity added sheepishly. “Best not describe that one in public, sorry. Choose again.”
“Okay, uh,” Rainbow Dash tapped a hoof. “Flamethrower? Like, fire out of your head?”
“Oh, yes! Quite dramatic!” Rarity chuckled. “Yes, it turns out Twilight was correct about my latent skills for ‘pyromancy’ or something of the sort. All it took was life-threatening peril and rather forceful goading by a certain yellow pegasus and ‘fwoosh!’ Gouts of fire!”
“Uh-huh.” She pointed at the hat. “Is that why you look like that, then?”
“Correct. Mercifully, it's not any sort of disease.” Rarity tipped the hat to the side, revealing more of the damage. “As it turns out, pyromancy practiced by the untrained often results in, er, collateral damage. In my case, it was my magical faculties and the front half of my mane.”
“Front?” Rainbow Dash eyed the unicorn. “Last I saw, you didn’t have any mane left.”
“I shaved the back half. The only thing worse than having no mane is having the ragged remnants of half of one.”
“You shaved your mane?” Rainbow Dash snorted a laugh. “Rarity ‘I would rather lose a leg than my mane’ cut off her own hair?”
“Well, not me personally. I had Fluttershy operate the trimmer.”
“What, couldn’t work up the courage?”
Rarity shook her head. “It’s quite difficult to shave the back of one’s head, and I am presently facing, er, limited dexterity, you see.”
“Oh, right.” Rainbow Dash pointed to the glass. “Is that why–”
“More or less, yes.” Rarity nodded sadly. “Combine greatly above-average field dexterity and an early onset of magic as a foal with a deserved aversion to filth and you get a mare with a greatly reduced aptitude for fine hoof control.”
“Dang, bummer.” Rainbow Dash chuckled again. “But, like, still! I can see it now! You, in a chair, crying about ‘the worst possible thing’ as ‘Shy lawnmowers your head. Classic!”
“You are unfortunately closer to the truth than I would like, although being tied to a tree and left to die by the slavering maws of timber wolves tends to make one reevaluate exactly what constitutes ‘the worst possible thing.’”
“So, what, no crying?” Rainbow Dash asked, still chewing on that last piece of offered information. Tied to a tree?
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Don’t be ridiculous, it’s still moi we are talking about here, darling. There would have been plenty of that had I not taken appropriate steps before the whole ordeal.”
Rainbow Dash raised an eyebrow. “Like what?”
“I would like to say ‘toughened my psyche up for the shock,’ but really I just drank through Twilight’s wine cellar until I passed out on a fainting couch.” Rarity shrugged. “I wouldn’t recommend making a long term habit of it, but desperate times and so forth.”
“And, what, Fluttershy dragged you from there into the bathroom or something? ‘Cause I know she’s, like, secretly jacked, but that seems a little much even for her.”
“Trust me. Despite my, as you said, unacceptable level of ‘ass-fatness,’ as it were, she is more than capable of that.” Rarity fanned the collar of her overcoat; the inside of the dining car growing increasingly sweaty as the train traveled south. She ran a hoof over the window; fixed, unfortunately. “But she did no such schlepping. The trimming was carried out in situ.”
“Ugh, gross!” Rainbow Dash shuddered. “What, is that couch full of hair now or something? Remind me to never pick that one when I come over.”
“You don’t come over, and I have more,” Rarity dismissed. She actually found that she had more than she had ever recalled buying, but she chalked that up to a quirk of the unstable ley lines that ran through Ponyville. And Pinkie, maybe. “Besides, couches can be cleaned.” She paused. “Not by me, mind you, because digging hair out of wool is indeed foul. That’s what little sisters are for.”
Rainbow Dash thought about that for a moment. It seemed unethical, but she had indeed been known to shanghai Scootaloo into such “super-cool Rainbow Dash sister activities” as tile scrubbing, so she figured that, yeah, that was probably correct.
“In any case, it’s the lesser of the damage inflicted, but the specifics will have to wait on that front, lest I spoil our appetites.” She took an extended sip of her White Lady, draining it to the very bottom of the glass. “Now, any other questions?”
Rainbow Dash thought for a moment. “Well, uh, not really, if you can’t talk about the serious stuff.” She shrugged. “I guess I can just wait on – oh, wait, hang on, yeah, I do have one! Why are you wearing that?” She pointed at Rarity with a wing.
“What?” Rarity looked down. “Oh, my overcoat?” She waved a hoof dismissively. “It’s to cover–”
“No, not the stupid coat, Rarity!” Rainbow Dash chuckled. “Why are you, like, wearing bondage gear?”
Rarity blushed intensely, eyes shooting wide. “I beg your pardon?”
“Yeah, y’know, like, chains and stuff.” Rainbow Dash gestured with a hoof at the open front of the coat. “Because you’re wearing white straps with buckles and hooks, and I don’t know what else you’d use that for.”
“What? No, it’s, no, oh my–” Rarity chuckled. “No, I assure you, this is a practical garment, not for, ah, carnal purposes.”
“Are you sure?” Rainbow Dash looked on skeptically. “Because the only other pony I’ve ever seen with a harness like that is AJ’s brother, and you don’t look like the kind of pony to go out plowing.” She guffawed. “Maybe the other kind of plowing, though. Ha!”
“Ha ha, very funny.” Rarity rolled her eyes. “Once again, I assure you, this is not that kind of thing.” She waved a hoof dismissively. “I need it to move an especially important part of my, er, luggage, and whilst I can put this on without the aid of my horn, taking it off is considerably more difficult, hence why I kept it on.”
“Oh.” Rainbow Dash cocked her head. “Wait, what the heck kind of luggage needs a friggin’ harness to move?”
“The important kind.” Rarity pulled her coat back closed. “And for what it’s worth, Rainbow, this would make for terrible bondage. All the hooks are on the back, and one certainly does need the assistance of anything but bio-mechanics to keep a partner firmly affixed to one’s back.”
Rainbow Dash was about to ask what, then, Rarity deemed such assistance necessary for when, as before, two more drinks and a platter of food appeared on the table with nary a sound. The drinks looked exactly the same as before, albeit this time a straw was included from the get-go. The food was–
“Sushi?” Rarity exclaimed, smacking a hoof to her face. “Rainbow, you idiot, I can’t eat sushi! Why would you order sushi?”
“Uh, because it’s trendy and fancy and I thought you’d like it?” Sudden realization flew across Rainbow Dash’s face. “Oh, crap, I, uh, probably should have asked if you were good with fish, yeah, sorry. Most pegasi are so I just kinda, uh, forgot.”
“No, not the fish, Rainbow, I like it fine enough.” Actually, the doctors had recommended it for recovery, but Rarity wasn’t sure she trusted the opinions of the squad of doctors who couldn’t look at her directly without vomiting into a bucket. “It’s the chopsticks.”
“Oh.” Rainbow Dash frowned. “What?”
“Chopsticks!” Rarity pointed to the sleeved porcelain utensils. “You saw me! I can barely hold a wineglass! How the fuck am I supposed to use chopsticks?”
Rainbow Dash eyed her strangely. “Uh, just, like, don’t? It’s not that big a deal. Can’t you just like pick them up?”
“Pick them up?” Rarity asked, outraged. “Are you crazy? And look like the world’s biggest cretin?”
“Who cares?” Rainbow Dash gestured around the train car. “The bartender isn’t here and those two are still at it.” Quite enthusiastically, actually. One had even mounted the table.
“I care.” Rarity answered, sitting up nobly. “I may not have much left, but I have my dignity, and I will not lower myself to the level of eating sushi with my hooves.”
“Oh, come on, Rarity.” Rainbow Dash deftly picked up to of the chopsticks in her left wing, placing one each between the roots of her stoutest primaries. “Just eat the sushi. I won’t tell anypony, I promise.”
“Yes, but I’ll know, and that’s what’s important.”
“It isn’t, but whatever.” Evidently, Rarity’s evaluations of what was unacceptable hadn’t changed too much. “Look, I don’t want to have to deal with you whining all day, so you’re eating one way or the other. Do you want me to feed you or something?”
“You what?” Rarity scoffed. “Feed me?”
“Yeah. You can’t use chopsticks, but I can, so that’s fine or whatever, right?” Rainbow Dash picked up one of the rolls with the aforementioned implements. “So I’ll just feed you like a foal.”
“Absolutely not.” Rarity shook her head emphatically. “I not sure how you could think that could be less embarrassing.”
“It’s your stupid rule, not mine.” Rainbow Dash shrugged, smirking. “C’mon, it’ll be hilarious. I’ll even make wooshing noises.”
“No. Way.” Rarity punctuated the periods with a firm hoof-tap onto the table-top.
“Really?” Rainbow Dash took a bite of the roll: a sophisticated affair topped with sea urchin roe. A few yellow bits fell onto the table cloth. “’Cause these are, like, really freakin good,” she said around a mouthful of rice and echinoderm gonads; undoubtedly, this was a dish best eaten, not pondered.
Rarity pouted in silence, hungrily watching Rainbow chomp her way through the rest of the roll, then through a more traditional one with a healthy slice of snapper.
“Rarity, you’re drooling.” Rainbow Dash pointed with her chopsticks. “You’re being ridiculous.”
“You’re – ugh – fine, you win!” Rarity sighed theatrically, sliding her utensils across the table. “But at least use a separate pair for me. I don’t want to be anywhere near your slobber.”
“What?” Rainbow Dash furrowed her brow in confusion. “What do I need these – oh! Ha!” Rainbow Dash belted out a laugh. “Oh my Celestia, you’re serious!”
“Deathly.” Rarity scowled. “Now, let’s get on with it already, please? I would hate for this indignity to be drawn out any further.”
“Okay, okay, jeez, don’t get your tail in a bunch.” Rainbow Dash picked up the offered chopsticks in her other wing, snagging a tuna roll.
“And don’t even think about making noises,” Rarity warned. “This is already bad enough.”
“Ah-ah, those are part of the deal.” She positioned the roll in the air, sliding it slowly towards the unamused face across the table. “Open up for the air-chariot! Wheeeeeee!”
The only think keeping Rarity from launching herself across the table and strangling her tormentor was hunger, but, as motivators go, it was a good one. She rolled her eyes, opening her mouth.
This was going to be a long train-ride. Good thing she ordered all the booze.
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Who would have thought that Rarity and Rainbow sitting in a dining compartment chatting could be so fascinating?
Of course Rainbow is a deft wing with chopsticks, why wouldn't she be?
You know I think the best part is how casually Rarity takes robbing Twilight at this point. Or her current regards for two of Equestrias princesses.
10876758
I mean, originally they just went for some money, but when someone hands you a shoebox full of go-dust and a key to the basement, you just gotta roll with it, y'know?
10876768
Oh I agree wholeheartedly. And it all is and was Twilights fault...
I still ship it
Weird bugs mean I was properly notified but this was only counted as unread on the fic itself.
10876917
Curious. And a little lame. I guess I'll put out a blog or something.
Time is an illusion, Rarity. Lunchtime doubly so. Of course, high society runs on illusions, so much so that Trixie would probably make for a decent countess herself.
Given the likely geomechanics of rock farming, Pinkie and ley lines go together more often than most ponies would think.
And yeah, definitely not Rarity's finest moments right now. Though she really should be doing more to build up hoof dexterity. I'm surprised nopony at the hospital offered that kind of physical therapy. Of course, given her "style before reason" mindset, I wouldn't be surprised if she simply refused to do any of it...
Also, I feel you overplayed the "like" density in Dash's dialogue. I'm counting twenty in this chapter alone. Some of it is a matter of taste, but it does feel a bit much.
THat said, looking forward to more.
I was disappointed this wasn't clickable, and searching the site for "light lunchtime" didn't help. What fic do you mean?
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Probably should have made that clickable, eh? It's a formatting namesake, rather than a direct one. Try this.
Actually, all things considered, what with the tail's location and what else is there that the tail would potentially cover, I would think balling up the tail into a bun would be anything but chaste for a pony (additional clothing or not).
Well, certainly not Fluttershy--she proved that last story.
I personally wouldn't try to throw down with Applejack either. Or Rainbow, for that matter.
Heck, I'd hesitate even with Pinkie Pie.
I guess that leaves Twilight then...but she's also got the unfair advantage of high-powered magic, so...
And I'm sure Sweetie Belle loves you all the more for it, Rares.
Honestly, I'm surprised they haven't accidentally suffocated each other in their enthusiasm at this point.
Don't need to! That just proves it was precisely what I already thought it was!
Honestly, all things considered, it probably makes sense, and given the general trend of things, it wouldn't surprise me in the slightest if it gets used (again).
I’m surprised Rarity hasn’t just been given a royal pardon or something.
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The trouble with that is it's a potentially international incident. Celestia absolving her of guilt would just make things worse.
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If it got out yes. Also I assume it would be more likely they would drag it out of Twilight or Luna. Really I have to wonder what excuse they would even give the griffins, as I’m pretty sure they would ask for the body back and they would likely question any explanation of a hunting accident when only ponies were involved. Plus we have kind of established that all the princess’s sort of suck at this.
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Which of course, means they can't have any official acknowledgement that it happened at all. And that's not actually possible, because the griffons are going to ask where their ambassador went and the paper trail leads at least up to Fluttershy's doorstep. Thus the problem.
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Depends if they need to specify whatever crimes somepony is being pardoned of. In theory you could just receive a pardon for any and all crimes committed before a certain date. Also in theory the griffins might be willing to just be willing to accept loss of life in a dangerous forest. Rarity does now have a medical record now for wounds received fighting timberwolves.
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I suppose it could also depend on just what the griffons thought of the guy themselves--for all we know, they would love to be rid of him too. He did seem like that sort of guy.
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Even if they did want to be rid of him, and it is probable, I imagine that they would try to exploit a situation where they would have the optics on their side.
Hello! I hope all is well! Is there an ETA on the next chapter?
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Hello!
Sorry, moved and got a new job. Lots of working, little of pleasure writing. I had a couple of chapters prewritten, but they weren't very good, and I didn't like where the story was going, so I, uh, didn't post them.
But! Things are proceeding well. I'm trying to get a couple things together to post around Labor Day, including a long chapter and a spiritual (read: low IQ) sequel to my most viewed piece. Shouldn't be too much longer.
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Obviously, no worries, it's not like you owe us.
Congratulations! I hope it goes well.
Neat! Take as long as you need!
Thank you!
They're eating sushi... WITH NO SAKE?! HEATHENS! SMITE THEM! BURNINATE THEM! COMMIT THE MOST WARPED AND TWISTED SHMENTAI GURO VORE UPON THEM!!! AFTER SEPPUKU!!
No punishment is too severe for such a crime against kaiseki!
(Alondro is very much puritanical about sake... despite only knowing the basics... but he pretends well!)
We have reached the point where Rainbow is the sane one. Cadence help us
Also while Rarity was the third most sane in the last fic, her clear insanity is shining out. Though that probably comes from the fact she isn't in a life or death sitaution(yet) and Twilight and Luna aren't there to make her seem more reasonable.
SUSHI 🍣🍵
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If I recall matters correctly, the beaked ass (with all due apology to donkeys) officially went missing in the Everfree Forest after foolishly separating himself from the game warden Fluttershy.
A royal pardon is an official thing that is recorded and written down, and may be used as evidence in an international inquest.
Additionally, an Equestrian pardon is worth jack-shit (again; apologies to the donkeys) to the griffon kingdoms when it comes to the
murderdisappearance of an ambassador.