It would take some time before she discovered just how different the party had been, for she had never been in attendance at one of Pinkie's more standard efforts. Eventually, she would learn that some things were just about immutable: for starters, there would practically always be balloons. Even the majority of the gatherings which were meant to be somewhat more serious would feature them, although the host might consider some selective muting of the colors.
After more than a few moons had passed, she would become familiar with the default style, which was often aimed at a target several years younger than the ponies who were participating. Admittedly, there was some joy to be found in that, because you could be too old to bob for fruit of your own accord, but if you were too old to be talked into it, then either one's cosmetics truly needed protection for the latter stage of the evening or one's next bobbing might come in the form of a one-way descent into the earth. But on the whole, the games, a touch of the music, and nearly all of the refreshments were targeted towards the young, and it would take far longer before she realized that a pony who'd never had much of an early childhood was still trying to make up for the lost years.
But for this party... for this party, the hostess had skewed things a little older. Part of that might have been just because so many of the guests were adults: Pinkie had invited just about every last one of the owners for the businesses which neighbored the Boutique, and most of those had been in operation for years. And of course, there were her other neighbors -- the former ones -- to consider, for the baker had also learned where Rarity had originally lived and requested that some from that area attend: that tilted the average age upwards still more.
Some of it, however... it would take time to fully reconcile many things about the party, and one of those elements was the age Pinkie had aimed it towards, one above Rarity's own. Because eventually, the unicorn would learn that the earth pony's first priority in so many parties was the guest of honor, to make things comfortable for that pony if such was possible at all. And it seemed that in Pinkie's eyes, Rarity came across as being much older than she truly was.
There were times when she tried to feel somewhat honored by that. And others, when school dances which would never take place in reality manifested in the nightscape, when it hurt.
But that was in the future. For now, the party was in full swing, and had been for about an hour. Rarity was being, for lack of a better term, circulated. Ponies whom she'd had no true chance to meet were being brought to her, or she to them. She was becoming acquainted with the owners of her neighboring businesses. One of them had said something about approaching the tradesponies group concerning an age exemption, because it wasn't as if Rarity was simply trying to operate a lemonade stand on a hot summer day: it was a full-fledged shop and so some degree of courtesy should be paid to its sole owner. It had felt like a chance, and she'd still been thanking the stallion when she'd been circulated to another portion of the gathering.
The businessponies were treating her -- well, not necessarily as an equal, but at least as a rookie who might need a little coaching before truly rising in the ranks. It was still something which said she'd been able to make the team. And she was getting to see her old neighbors without having her mother within tilted or rotated earshot (somehow, Pinkie had thought to exclude Rarity's mother), there were ponies who were completely new to her making their first introductions, and then there was a presence which had started out as something that initially, had felt very much like a gift.
"So how are you holding up?" Sequin smiled as Rarity's passage through the winding paths of the party brought her back to a friend.
Well -- 'friend,' if used back in the day, would have felt like a rather awkward term. Their parents were friends. The daughters were expected to play together while the elders talked, and there had been days when that had occurred. But there had been just as many times when the two had managed to get on each other's nerves, in the relative privacy of their respective bedrooms, backyards, or just at school. They were often together because they were expected to be together, and any personality clash Rarity might experience when what felt like Sequin's built-in need to control took over was generally explained by her mother as Rarity's fault, because a friend would learn to work with that. Of course, that had come in the days before Rarity had truly learned just how much her mother wished to personally control of her elder daughter's life: in retrospect, she really should have spent more time in considering the source.
But now Sequin was next to her again, and it created the comfort of the familiar without reminding her about every last detail of what she'd once been familiar with. The light green coat, grey eyes, and what was now an overly-polished horn -- seriously: even after figuring for the automatic increase which could come with the passing years, Sequin had to be using just about all of her allowance on cosmetics alone...
It felt good. Just having somepony she could talk to felt so very good.
"Rather well," Rarity smiled. "I believe I can keep going for some distance into the night. Are we sure there will be no interruption?"
Sequin tilted her head to the right, giggled. "I can't get used to that accent... we're fine as long as we don't get too loud, Rarity. Pinkie doesn't host a lot of outdoor affairs, but she always lets the locals know when it's happening. And it's not like we're in a residential neighborhood, so we could even get a little louder without bothering somepony. Maybe a lot louder. Not as loud as when Sledge and I just about closed down --" A quick laugh. "-- well, maybe that's a story for another time."
Rarity blinked. "No, tell it! Sledge? So he's still in town? His parents did not move the family away?" It had been one of the dark houses.
"They're traveling for the summer," Sequin told her as she started to trot towards the refreshments stable. "He'll be back in time for school. You'll see him -- well, not at school." A quick glance backwards at Rarity, who was following more closely than she ever had. "What's that like? Not having to go, or answer to anypony at all?"
She almost said something about still having to answer to the bank, but settled for "Strange." A glance ahead at the refreshment table, which had recently been restocked. The hostess was currently nowhere in sight. "Sequin -- who pays for all this? The treats and drinks have a cost, and the shadowcasters alone..."
Sequin shrugged. "Some of the treats are from the bakery, I think. Things they can't sell tomorrow."
"And the rest of it?"
Casually, "Pinkie gets stuff."
The question was automatic. "Where?"
Sequin turned. Shrugged again.
"Maybe she borrows it. She probably has deals with some of the stores. Or she makes it herself. She just gets stuff. Why does it matter?"
Rarity thought about streamers, and the absence of saddlebags.
"I'm --"
The rest of the sentence would have been 'not sure,' and it was never voiced. The elder pegasus inadvertently guaranteed that.
"Rarity?" Who glanced to the left and found Mrs. Voyeur standing there -- no, just about hovering. Looking as if she needed to go somewhere in a hurry or rather, go to one very specific place a little faster than that. "Could you please do us all a favor?" The young unicorn listened. "Your shop is the closest place to find a bathroom." Desperate fluttering added vibration to the words. "If you would just provide access?"
Oh -- right... She had rather sensibly locked up just before leaving, and while there were other business owners at the party who might offer up their own facilities, there was no denying that Rarity's was the closest. Admittedly, that would cost her something in toiletries, but given the amount which had been spent by Pinkie on arranging this night...
The storeroom was locked up well before I left, and it's not as if anypony is going to try shoplifting when they'd have to make their way out past the party and explain just when they purchased the dress which they weren't wearing when they arrived. It should be safe.
"Just a moment," Rarity replied. "Sequin, I'll be back after I unlock my doors. If you see Pinkie, please tell her she can send others with similar concerns inside. My apologies, Mrs. Voyeur: I didn't know this party was going to take place, and so had no opportunity to consider all of the requirements. If you'll follow me?"
The elder pegasus did. Rarity's field interacted with the hard-purchased security spells which were keyed to her alone and with that second hostess duty performed, she began to make her way back into the heart of the party.
It wasn't a casual effort. There were ponies she hadn't met yet and now that she was in a different part of the celebration, some of them were taking their opportunity. She didn't want to be rude with any of them, and yet she had to reach Sequin again. It was a difficult balancing of priorities: time for a friend, or time for potentially making the contacts which could assist in advancing her career? Rarity felt as if that was a problem which might take more than a single party to fully solve.
Minutes passed, and some of them felt necessary. At one point, she caught a glimpse of Sequin, who was now dancing with an adolescent male whom Rarity hadn't seen before. Oh well: there would be time later, and perhaps Rarity could even find somepony to dance with herself.
It was a pleasantly warm night now, with the cloud cover having been cleared away: that hadn't been authorized, but she doubted the old coordinator could be roused just to check out a minor violation. The music was pleasant, if not quite to Rarity's taste: much to her occasional shame, she and her mother shared their taste in favorite perfomer, and none of that worthy's albums had been stacked by the gramophone. There was certainly nothing wrong with the snacks, and Rarity was becoming curious to visit Sugarcube Corner at some point in the near future, if only to inhale the free scents. It was, all things considered, a fine party.
Admittedly, it was now one in which Rarity's nerves seemed to be humming a soft little tune of their own, a song where she couldn't make out the true lyrics or melody....
A natural consequence of having ponies enter the Boutique unsupervised, she told herself. But her goods would not be so casually stolen, her money was locked away... she was safe. At most, she might have to straighten out the shop somewhat after a few ponies used their time inside to inspect the contents of the racks. Perhaps somepony would even inquire concerning a potential purchase.
A few more body lengths. Another pony whom she apparently had to speak with. She glanced backwards at one point to see a stallion entering the shop. She'd lost track of Sequin. And her ears rotated, listening to the music, the words being spoken by those around her, including the ones which hadn't necessarily been meant for her to hear.
She was within the social web, in a place where she could feel the vibrations moving down the strands. She was learning about the place of so many ponies, and in doing so, was discovering so much about what her own might be.
There was a pony to thank for that, and a passing glimpse of bright pink put Rarity on a new course.
"Thank you."
She should have made the words louder than they'd been: an attempt to get past the music. But Pinkie still turned towards her, smiling. Rarity wondered if the ability to sort through noise was another part of a party mark. In her own case, it was a hard-acquired skill, but to have it as part of the overall grouping of talent...
"It's okay," Pinkie gently replied. "You needed a party. I've seen a lot of ponies who needed them, and... you kind of needed one really bad. So I wanted to make sure you had one. Even if --" her ears dipped "-- it's later than it should have been."
"Your timing," Rarity smiled, "has been excellent."
They were just looking at each other now, dual islands in the stream of flowing pony bodies. The baker was quietly regarding her, and it felt like an odd quiet, given what Rarity had seen before. But in time, she would learn that Pinkie was capable of quiet. Introspection, deep thoughts, empathy which few ponies ever fully understood even when they saw it in action. She was more than hyperactive and loud, something far beyond (falsely) random, capable of priorities which included no balloons at all. The pony before her had a complexity about her, and some aspects of that puzzle would require years to fully manifest.
The disaster, however, was less than a minute away.
"You have costs," Rarity finally said, and felt herself wince as the words emerge. "I was paid for my repair services, as a means of luring me away from the Boutique and preventing me from seeing the setup. That was ten bits which..." She tried to figure out the salary for an apprentice baker who might be getting paid under the parental We're Already Covering Room And Board discount, and just barely fought the second wince down into the dark. "Perhaps you should take them back."
"Vaude said you went through a lot of stuff to make that old rag wearable again," Pinkie protested. "You had costs, and you did the work. You should keep them."
"But your own expenses --"
"-- I don't charge! Only professionals do that, and I'm not one yet. I might not be for a long time."
One final protest: even knowing it wasn't going to work, she had to make one. "But --"
-- and that was when the words reached her well-trained ears, which immediately sorted them out of the party's babble and sent them deep into the core of her soul, where they arrived as fast-spreading ice.
"-- broke. I saw it for myself: she doesn't even have a bed..."
The ice rushed into her limbs, froze all four legs in place, locked her features into horror. Only her ears retained the ability to move, and every part of her wished they would stop.
"-- did you see the towels? Nothing matches! I thought I saw her at a lot of stable sales in the spring. Well, if that's the kind of color palette she's working with in her own bathroom, the dresses are probably --"
"-- cupboard's just about empty, and as for her kitchen devices, I swear one of them sparked when I just looked at it --"
"-- sleeping in a nest. Well, everypony knew she was too young for this. I certainly did. As I was telling her mother after I came in the first time --"
The bathroom...
Her frozen eyes were still locked onto Pinkie's face, and part of that visual scope reached the ears. There was a degree of rotation going on there as well, along with what felt like a slow crashing of expression across those approachable features, a new feeling moving in --
-- but that was when the fire appeared in Rarity's heart, surged into the rest of her body, sent her spinning away from the baker, charging through the crowd and if her head was lowered, if her heavily-spiking corona and horn were at an angle which made them into the weapon nature had designed them to be, ponies staring at her in shock and alarm as a pony on the attack shoved past, then that was what the soon-to-be victims of her efforts deserved.
The bathroom is on the upper level.
The true risk had not been within the Boutique, allowing ponies unsupervised access to her wares. It had been in allowing those same ponies that kind of access to her residence.
Another body length: a startled earth pony got out of her way. She nearly grazed the leader of the tradesponies group: he leapt back just in time. That movement cleared the last bit of the path, and the primary instigator was before her.
The elder pegasus almost instantly took off. Some of that action might have been caused by shock. Rarity chose to see it as an attempt at retreat.
She could not hold an adult body, not within her field, not against the effort of even casual flight, and the tail had gone up too fast for her to have any hope of clenching her teeth around it. But when it was a pegasus in flight, especially one who was perfectly visible under the lights and hadn't gained much altitude yet, you didn't need to get your field around everything. It was simply necessary to be -- selective.
Soft blue lanced forward, quickly surrounded crucial flight feathers, pushed there and there.
It could be argued that Mrs. Voyeur had just barely cleared the ground, and so Rarity was prepared to argue in court that the elder had just barely crashed into it.
"YOU!" and she knew it was a scream, could almost smell the surrounding rise in the herd's fear as ponies pulled back from her. "I LET YOU INTO MY HOME! I OPENED MY SHOP AND HOME TO ALL OF YOU, AND YOU USED IT TO --"
"-- Rarity!" That was almost a shout. "Rarity, it's not --"
"-- SHUT UP, SEQUIN!" Followed by, just a little more softly, after the gasp had faded, "Do you think your new voice is so unfamiliar to me that I cannot recognize it spreading the same tale? How many of you went inside? How many walked through my bedroom simply to survey? Opened my cupboards, tried to examine the contents of my stockroom? How many can claim a true primary motive for entrance, and how many are like YOU, Mrs. Voyeur? Any excuse! Any at all! You and my mother are some level of acquaintance, but I choose what I will inherit from her, what and whom. I choose."
The elder pegasus was staring at her, eyes wide and wild with fear as the glow of spiking corona danced over her form. It was a look Rarity could capture within a design and still preferred to have in front of her, one last time.
"Get out," Rarity hissed, and the words broke through all music. "Get off my property. Never enter my shop again. Get out."
And the herd, which was afraid, moved.
It only took seconds. And then Rarity was standing under the lights of abandoned devices, listening as hooves and wingbeats pounded their way into the darkness.
Alone.
[/hr]
After the tears finally slowed enough to let her see what she was doing, Rarity cleaned up, or at least did so as best she could. The lighting devices were too heavy for her to move, but she could dispose of the refreshments, fold the lighter tables and benches before leaning them against the shop's outer walls. There was a moment when she considered returning everything to the bakery, but she didn't know how much truly belonged to the departed hostess, and what had been borrowed. Ultimately, she simply secured everything to the best of her ability, with the gramophone and its precious collection of records stored within the Boutique. A note was attached to one of the outside tables, requesting that the device's owner inquire within to secure its return. Unless that owner happened to be Mrs. Voyeur, in which case Rarity was fully prepared to state "What gramophone?" while within a single body length of it.
Trash was disposed of. The drinking trough had its contents unceremoniously dumped onto cobblestones. And then Rarity went inside, slowly checked to make certain nothing was missing from the shop level, found all the little bits of not-quite-obliterated evidence which told her just where ponies had ventured within what was meant to be her home, and eventually settled into the blankets.
There was nopony to speak with. No pet she could whisper to while pressing a damp face against comforting fur. There was simply a window, a tree visible through the glass, and Moon. None of them spoke to her, or cared about what had happened. In the end, there was an adolescent within what was never going to be a bed, one who had just chased away everypony who had come to her party -- including those who hadn't been at fault. She'd terrified those who had violated her privacy. She had also been a source of fear to her new neighbors, those who had seemed ready to welcome her, to help.
They'd all left her. Every last pony, and her final view of the exodus had been of a ridiculously curly pink tail shaking with terror as its owner raced towards safety.
What could she have done differently? That question created an instant, rather long list, completely covered in entries she would never be able to check off. Isolate Mrs. Voyeur in privacy. Ask a neighbor to offer their own bathroom while she closed off access to her home. Have a few quiet words with those who'd been speaking, about how she was just starting out, a collection of mismatched pieces must have been the hallmark of so many who were on their own for the first time, several of those who were speaking had probably been through the same thing while others hadn't even had the opportunity, and...
So much she could have said or done. But she'd let the anger take over, and...
It was her, the blankets, a partially-visible tree, and Moon. It was hours before the group was joined by sleep, and only long enough for Rarity to be woken by the first touch of Sun.
[/hr]
She closed the shop.
Rarity didn't know what she could say to anypony. She didn't know if there was anything to be said. She just knew that she'd barely slept, and so was in no position to try and say it. There were things she would have to face, apologies which could only be delayed for so long -- but any degree of delay might give her time to think of something she could say at all.
So shortly after Sun had been raised, she added an extra note to the one she'd put on the folded table, then put its duplicate on the door.
Closed: Supply Gallop
And then she'd made her way out of Ponyville, quietly moving down the back roads which she was once again beginning to learn, doing her best to stay out of sight -- something which failed. The weather team was setting up for the day, and other ponies were getting ready for their own work. But she didn't see anypony who had been at the party. Not that she recognized, and certainly nopony who said anything to her at all.
She ate on the way. The grass wasn't particularly nutritious or tasty, but it was free.
[/hr]
It was something she had to do anyway. After all, she'd had some sales, enough to survive. And some of those sales had (hopefully) come purely from her designs -- but another portion of her work's appeal was in the price point. Rarity had a high-end shop, and yet the bits being requested in that shop were not as significant as they could have been. There was a certain advantage in play, and Rarity passed most of those savings down to her customers.
But it meant she had to restock. Personally, every time, if the appeal of that savings was to be maintained. And so she was slowly trotting along the fallow dirt she knew so well. A new portion this time -- and perhaps always, or at least for the part of 'always' which stretched out before her like the hoof-stomped judicial sentence of a lifetime in prison. She didn't know why this huge area was so full of what she needed, much less how the contents had become both so variegated and densely packed. There had been days when she had wondered, and done so for hours without ever finding an answer. In the end, she simply considered herself lucky. And today, she trotted, slowly, horn lit with an oddly wavering corona. Lack of sleep.
Glow indicated a section of soil. She scraped her forehooves across it, over and over, until the deed was done. Something she could reach, at least: she lacked the equipment required to unearth the best finds, and of course no unicorn could move one object which was fully inside another. Sometimes she felt as if it was only the affinity of her mark which allowed her to even detect things so completely buried.
Move a little ways. Repeat.
It might take her decades to fully exhaust the soil. Decades during which the story of the party would be repeated, having lost all of her motivation on the first telling. But it was something she had to do, if the sales continued at all. And it was -- something to do. A place to be other than the shop.
Her field brought up one of the finds. She carefully examined the lines within the blue, rotated everything under Sun.
Can I use this by itself? If I can't find any more which match?
It didn't matter. She'd find a way to work with it when she got back. In the meantime, there was more work to be done, in a place nopony else knew, somewhere nopony would ever find --
"It's the rutile."
Rarity's wavering field, still holding her find, turned with her.
"There's little bits of rutile in the stone," the new arrival said. "Or hematite, if it's a black one. But that one's blue, so it's rutile doing it. It's like little needles, or tiny strands of silk. And that's what makes the star."
Slowly, carefully, Rarity set the sapphire down between them.
"I know that," she said. "How do you?"
And there was a moment when there was something strange.
Pinkie's eyes half-closed as her head dipped. Her mane dipped, equally pressed down by the weight of emotion. The approachable features began to close themselves off, fur seemed to darken with pain, a straight tail sagged towards the earth...
...the moment passed.
Bright pink ears forced themselves upright, and blue eyes came up to meet Rarity's gaze.
The apprentice baker took a breath. Rarity watched as every last tenth-bit of strength was mustered, just before the words were released.
"I used to be a rock farmer. Well... my -- parents were." Her eyes briefly closed. "Not me, really."
"Ah," Rarity said, mostly for the brief lack of anything else -- at least until the natural follow-up question appeared. "And what is that, exactly?"
"It's..." A long pause and then, awkwardly, "...rock farming."
A mining family, perhaps. It was certainly a way to lose one's parents --
Wait.
From somewhere nopony's ever heard identified. A pony who, as far as anypony knows, only began to exist when she crossed the border into the settled zone. Somepony who --
-- never talks about her birth family.
"Why are you telling me this?" Rarity softly asked.
"Because..." Pink hooves scraped shallow trenches into the soil. "...you didn't ask. And I saw you when I was coming up --"
"How did you know I would be here?" As interruptions went, Rarity didn't feel it was all that rude, but it did seem rather necessary.
"I didn't," Pinkie hopelessly said. "I looked all over town. I looked in places nopony ever looks. And then I ran out of town to look in, so I started looking in the places which weren't town. I just -- got close, and then I sort of... well, I saw a little glow after a while. I got a good look at your field color last night. I saw you -- finding gems. With magic, right through the soil and everything. How can you do that?"
Rarity silently glanced down her own right flank, nodded to her mark.
"Oh," Pinkie softly said. "That's... a lot. For a unicorn. I mean --" more quickly, almost apologetic, "-- I've never heard of a unicorn who could find gems like that. Not even in stories. If my father knew somepony could do that, he'd --"
-- dead stop.
There was an odd expression on her face. It wasn't quite pain, and it wasn't quite jealousy. More of a mix. And then it was gone, replaced by a silent determination.
"I had to find you," the earth pony quietly stated. "I've been looking for hours. At the shop, and then everywhere, and finally here. I wanted to say... I'm sorry, Rarity." Volume still dropping, "It was supposed to be your welcome home party, it was supposed to be special and make you feel good, like you really had a home again. And all it did was make some ponies talk about how you didn't have a real one. Parties are supposed to make ponies happy. That's all I wanted for you, because you weren't happy and... I thought maybe, if you knew somepony cared, then you'd feel better, but it all went wrong and --"
"-- I don't blame you."
They stood under Sun on a summer day, separated by a few body lengths of dirt and the soft blue glow of buried gems which had yet to be uncovered.
"...you don't?"
"How is having ponies use their trips into my bathroom as an excuse to snoop through the rest of my home your fault? I blamed any number of ponies last night, including all of those who were spreading the gossip. But at no point did I ever blame --"
But the baker had been thinking about it. "-- I could have brought in an outhouse."
Rarity blinked.
"Really?"
"Um... no," Pinkie eventually admitted. "They're not easy to move. Plus there's a smell. You really don't want to have a party near that smell. You're -- not mad at me?"
Rarity took a deep breath of her own. It took very little strength to get the words out, and too much to push through all the emotions. "You were the only pony at the party whom I was never angry with. And that number includes myself. When I saw you galloping away -- when I thought I'd scared you off along with all the rest..."
"You can be a little scary when you're mad," Pinkie told her. "And when everypony is scared... I didn't even know I was running until I'd stopped. Sometimes the herd just... thinks first. Rarity -- are you okay?"
She sighed. "Again: this is not your fault. Nothing which happened was, and certainly not the way I reacted to events. But -- no, Pinkie. I'm not okay. I don't know how much damage I truly did last night, and I'm afraid the amount was considerable. I'm not certain I can even truly measure --"
With the smallest of smiles, "Maybe it's not as bad as you think."
"No," Rarity admitted, feeling the graveyard humor suffuse the words. "It's likely worse."
A soft breeze ruffled their fur. The curls slightly shifted.
"I came out to find you," Pinkie told her. "After the morning shift. The Cakes understand when I have to go, especially once they heard about last night. But in the bakery... do ponies talk in dress shops? While they're being fitted, or looking at things, just so somepony's talking at all?"
Her profession had been helping her. A little. "Now and then."
"They talk in bakeries too. While they're waiting. To us, and to each other. They talk a lot. Ponies have been talking, but -- not just the ones who were talking last night, after they tried to make you feel like you didn't have a real home. All the ponies are talking. Some of them just ran because everypony else was running, and now they're talking because everypony else is talking. It means there's a lot of stories moving around, but just one truth, and there's more ponies saying that, so maybe it'll win." Abruptly, "Do you need help? Bringing the gems up?"
"Pinkie --"
"Because I can help with that! I can totally scrape the dirt! I'm really really good at it! Ask the Cakes! When I was littler, I used to come in dirty all the time --"
"Pinkie?"
"-- and it took a while before I really started washing up before I came in, because dirt isn't good in flour. Unless you like dirt in flour. Somepony has to, right? Somewhere. So maybe that's you. Have you ever tried it? I did. It's horrible. At least, it's horrible for me --"
"Pinkie."
The baker stopped.
"...sorry."
"It's quite all right," Rarity half -- perhaps one quarter, or even an eighth -- lied. "What are ponies saying?"
The other pony visibly considered her words.
"I think you should hear it from them, when you go back to town," she finally said. "Because sometimes I talk too much, or too fast, and I try too hard a lot, still. But if it's coming from them, then maybe you'll believe it. Are you ready to go back?"
And Rarity knew that was all she would hear about it. "Not yet. If I can still have any degree of local business, then I have to replenish my stock. I would have had to do that eventually, and so I am doing it today." And then the words which surprised her: "Mostly because it was something to do other than thinking about last night."
"That doesn't work," Pinkie quietly said. "I've tried."
"Then what does?"
"Talking to somepony." Which was followed by, "Do you want some help bringing the gems up? The Cakes understand if I'm gone all day. I don't need to hurry back for the bakery. I had some other things I could have done, but -- you're what's important now."
More blinks. "You want to scrape?"
"I want to be here," Pinkie stated. "Until you feel better."
"It's -- rather boring."
"So we'll talk. Maybe that won't be." Pinkie glanced down, looking at the closest patch of glow. "That's a lot of opals. Do you like opals?"
"Very much."
Pinkie nodded. Bright hooves began to scrape. Rarity put a little more effort into the spell, making the limits of the patch more defined.
"You're a curious one, Pinkie Cake," she openly mused, and felt the other adolescent would not be offended by the words.
She was wrong. The head came up, and a tiny frown appeared on those slightly rounded features.
"Pinkie Pie," the baker insisted, and then went back to work. "So who were your friends in town before you left?" Hopefully, "I think you two are the same age, so you might have been in the same class... did you know Applejack?"
And because she was looking down, Pinkie failed to see the wince.
[/hr]
Sun was about three-quarters of the way along its summer path when they towed the cart back into town. Or rather, they moved along with Rarity insisting that it was her cart and finds, and so it was also her responsibility to haul. Pinkie countered by pointing out that she was the stronger and there was still some dirt on the gems, so as the earth pony, she should be the one hauling soil. The easiest solution was to switch off the harness every so often, usually while giggling.
"Rarity?"
They heard the male's voice, and both stopped.
A light brown earth pony stallion had just stepped away from a vegetable shop, saddlebags weighted with recent purchases. Green eyes went over the pair.
"I was at the party," the stallion said. "I came as a tradespony, to meet another. I never really got a chance to speak with you, but -- I just wanted to tell you that last night? I'm sorry about running. There were just so many other ponies moving, and I..." The skin under his fur was starting to flush with embarrassment. "...I don't know if you've ever had it happen, when the herd just starts to --"
"I understand, sir," Rarity quietly said. "It can happen to anypony among us."
A reluctant, slightly humiliated nod began the next part of his response, and was quickly followed by "Anyway, you were right to tell them off. Ponies snooping in somepony's home... I was on a sofa for nearly two years after I started out on my own. Not that it's a bad thing. I always say there's nothing like a sofa for sleeping when you really need it, along with all sorts of other --"
Pinkie lightly, unexpectedly, and falsely coughed.
"-- but what I'm trying to say here," the stallion continued without missing a beat, "is that I'll vote for the age exemption at the next meeting. I think a lot of ponies will. Have a good day, Rarity. Let me know if you need any advice. I'm planning a Canterlot advertising campaign for the next -- hopefully the real -- scheduled first train day, promoting the singular specialty of my shop." With open pride, "Something they certainly won't find in the capital! And anyway, no matter how I've tried to plan it out, I've still got some space left at the bottom of the page. If you need it."
It look a second to realize that her mouth was trying to fall open, and another to make sure he didn't get more than the briefest glimpse of her tongue.
"Thank you, sir," Rarity finally managed. "I may take you up on that."
He smiled. "Well, back to my own shop, then! I've got to take inventory tonight. It's amazing, isn't it? How the larger pieces, which should be the ones which can't go anywhere on their own, are always the ones which wind up with the suspect count...?"
The stallion trotted away. The adolescents watched him go.
"I forgot," Rarity suddenly said, feeling her own blush beginning to rise under the fur. "In simple politeness, I should have asked for his name. And I --"
"Davenport," Pinkie told her.
"Davenport," Rarity repeated, fixing it in her memory.
A nod. "He's weird."
Rarity slowly turned, focused the stare on her companion. The pony whom she was sure hadn't been wearing any streamer-hosting saddlebags --
-- did it matter?
Maybe a little. But currently, only for the purpose of comparison.
"You are saying," she carefully tried out, "that he's 'weird'."
"He's nice," Pinkie failed to clarify. "But have you ever been in his shop?"
"No..."
Definitively, "He's weird. Anyway, that's what a lot of ponies are saying. The ones who weren't snooping. Not all of them, but -- I think maybe it's enough. So anyway..." She resumed her trot, steadily pulling the cart forward, "...you were talking about pets."
Rarity tried to get her thoughts to surround the sheer scope of the hope, and wondered if that emotion was a gift. "Pinkie -- do you really think so?"
Curls bounced in time with the nodding. "Sometimes the truth wins, especially once ponies figure out what it is. So -- pets. I think you really should get one. And..." She paused, words and motion both and in each case, the brief stop was equally awkward. "There's this pony."
"A pony," Rarity tried out.
"She just moved to Ponyville this spring. Well, just barely Ponyville. She lives on the fringe, right up against the wild zone! And there's been ponies going out there, and the ones who come in the bakery say she takes care of animals. She helps them, and part of that is helping some of them find new homes. And I have this friend who comes to see me sometimes, and it turns out he knows her, he said the two of us should really meet because he thought we'd have so much in common, plus I try to meet everypony anyway but when he says I should meet somepony, it's really really important. So I trotted all the way out to her cottage, and..."
"And?" Rarity eventually prompted.
"...I was sort of -- me," Pinkie winced. "And she sort of -- isn't. She's kind of the opposite of me. I think she might still be hiding. Under her couch. It sort of sounded like somepony going under a couch. I've heard a lot of that. Even through a door, it's hard to miss. Which is why I haven't given her a welcoming party. Because the living room has windows, but the cottage has a basement and hiding down there forever would be really really dark."
The young unicorn found herself smiling, and was slightly surprised by it. But the expression, and accompanying feeling, were welcome. "So you think that if we go out there, she might have a pet for me."
"And you're good with words," Pinkie said. "Maybe if you mostly did the talking, and when I talked, it was -- slower? Maybe then, we could get her to... come out? With a pet?"
"So what's her name?"
Pinkie told her, and Rarity instantly perceived a hint of the social effort which might be required.
"Well," she shrugged, "we can try. But don't be surprised if nothing comes of it."
Pinkie nodded. They both trotted a little more.
"Rarity?"
"Yes?"
"Are we friends?"
She stopped, and Pinkie stopped with her, waiting for the answer. Words Rarity would not release without full consideration of their impact.
"I think we're ponies who know each other a little more than they did," she finally said. "And who might spend more time together --" although not with Applejack "-- and learn still more, moon by moon. And that such is one of the many ways in which friendship might come. If you wish me to be both fully honest and sincere, Pinkie, I don't know if we're friends just yet. But I believe we'll get there."
The answering smile brought relief. "I like you. If that helps."
"Somewhat," Rarity giggled. "So we'll drop these off, and then to this cottage?"
"Sure! And if we can get her to come out -- what kind of pet were you thinking of?"
An empty space which needed another warm body to help fill it. Something she could speak with and at least pretend there were words coming back, if masked within extremely vocal sounds. A strong degree of intelligence combined with highly visible emotional reactions, so that Rarity would always know the truth of how she had come across...
"I was thinking about... a cat."