//------------------------------// // 3 - A Bucket of Ice Cream // Story: Rarity Reads a Trashy Romance Novel // by vamparity //------------------------------// The visit to the spa helped Rarity to relax, as did talking with Fluttershy. They talked about this and that, as they usually did. Only once had the conversation turned into what had happened, and upon Rarity's apology and insistence not to talk about it, it had quickly went away. The walk home did not feel as rare as the walk to the spa. It felt oddly familiar. She no longer felt the warmth from the sun as it now cast long shadows down the street. There was no cool breeze in the air, or if there was, she hardly noticed. She had said goodbye to her walking companion long ago. The same, common issue of her post-spa trip home registered in her mind as she felt each hoof touch the ground. There was dirt everywhere. But, it was okay. Who even looks at the bottom of hooves? "I do," Rarity said softly to herself. On her way home, she walked past Sugarcube Corner. She remembered Pinkie Pie greeting her outside and handing her a small bucket of ice cream. She did not remember ordering any, but Pinkie Pie insisted that she had—or was it that Pinkie Pie had ordered too much? She remembered Pinkie telling her several different things and that she had to stop her by accepting it and thanking her. She seemed concerned about something and was having another one of her twitching episodes. Not a single stallion noticed her. Nor did any mares, besides Pinkie Pie. The thought hurt. She unlocked her front door and stepped inside. Why did it hurt? Pinkie Pie is a mare. Does she count? She closed the door behind her. No, she is a close friend. It doesn't count. Why did it hurt? Because, she thought, she is Rarity, and she is a hopeless romantic. She found herself on the sofa with a spoon in the ice cream. She didn't bother with a bowl. The bucket was fine. Her sister was back at her parents' house for the night--nopony would know. How hopeless was she, she thought. She savored the taste of a spoonful of ice cream. Beyond hopeless. Why did she have such trouble getting a date? She looked good. She knew she looked good. She tasted another spoonful of ice cream, rubbing it around her mouth with her tongue. Prince Blueblood was no prince. Who else? Spike was a wonderful pony, or dragon, and she knew he would grow out of whatever coltish feelings he had for her. It was romantic, but not the kind she desperately sought. She rolled another spoonful of ice cream into her mouth. She had her own childish feelings she has had to grow out of as well. Tenderhoof, she cringed at the thought. How stupid, how desperate--the memory of having to throw away her shrine to him flashed across her mind. "I love being covered in mud," she gave herself a small laugh. The worst memory about that was what an awful pony she was to Applejack. She was terrible. Applejack had pretended to be her in the same way she had pretended to be a farmer, so it was okay, but she knew better. She did it to help her see her mistake. It was all her fault. She remembered the rage and jealously, and quite a few other emotions, when she discovered Tenderhoof had fallen for Applejack. And Applejack turned him down! Who would fall for such a silly pony, she thought. She felt herself scrapping the bucket with her spoon. The memory did cheer her up. Applejack, or Applejewel, was such a silly pony. And she, dressed in overalls, had rolled around in mud! They had argued, yelling into each other's faces. It wasn't the first time. She sighed. She put the bucket of ice cream down. It was empty. Climbing up the stairs and finding herself faced with her bedroom, she noticed the romance novel. She smiled. "At least I have you." --- "Promise me ya won't scream." Fair Desire nodded to Wicked Strike in response. They raised their chained wrists back above their heads, pretending as if Wicked Strike had not been able to work them loose. "Whatever happens, I won't let them harm you. If it costs me my life, I won't--" "I get it, Wicked!" Desire heaved in restrained panic. The small cell felt even smaller. Some light floated through a tiny hole above, reminding Fair Desire that the world was larger than the hole where she found herself. The prince, she wondered, what happened to her dear prince? Her heart punched her bosom in fear. She was already on edge, but one look at Wicked's one eye looking back at her, and she… she felt like they… she took a calming breath. She felt like that fool would end up dead trying to save her. The inconsiderate idiot! What if she left her all alone by dying? Then what? What would she do? Wicked had paid attention to the hallways and rooms they traveled through--Desire had fainted, Wicked having to carry her. A rage began to boil within her, her heart beating the walls of her body with a new rhythm. That one-eyed, insufferable pony! "I'm going to strike fast. Please, for the love of Luna, do not make a sound." "I said I get it!" Desire all but shouted. "What's going on in there?" They both swung their heads in the direction of the heavy door before them. Desire swallowed nervously. The chains around her hooves felt as if they were growing in size and that her hooves would give way at any moment. This was it. The guard entered. Abruptly, he swung open the heavy door with a metal screech. Dragging himself in, he gave a menacing look to his captives. Desire held her breath. One look at the guard's coarsely threaded tunic gave her no doubt as to what stirred the cell's newfound odor. In a flash, Wicked was on him. Desire thought she had seen a few punches and kicks connect, but it happened so fast that she wasn't sure. She watched as they were now locked into a grapple. Wicked was attempting to strangle the guard with her chains, but the guard had managed to put a hoof between it and his neck, preventing her. She noticed the other hoof reaching for a knife in his boot. Fair Desire leaped at him, holding her hooves together as if they were a rock, and dropped them onto the guard's head. The sound of chains snaking their way to the floor under their own weight followed the silence, after the sickening crack. The guard was on the ground. After one long breath, Wicked Strike dropped to the floor to grab the guard's keys. She paused to look up at Fair Desire, who then fell to her knees to tightly hug her. "Uh, thanks," Wicked said, while slowly returning the hug with a single hoof. She could feel the unmistakable sounds of her companion's quiet tears. "Hey, come on now. I told ya not to make a sound." Desire sniffed, holding onto the only thing she could not live without. "I said I get it, you stupid, stupid pony."