//------------------------------// // A Rare Opportunity // Story: Living in Equestria // by Blazewing //------------------------------// After what was probably the best brunch I had ever experienced (and I hadn’t experienced very many official brunches before), Pinkie and I bid farewell to the Apple family. Applejack told me I was welcome back anytime, and had even told me about a couple of special seasons Sweet Apple Acres experienced. One was Zap Apple Season, when the orchards were blessed with the rarest apple of all: the Zap Apple, which was made into a very delicious jam. The other was Cider Season, where the Acres churned out barrel after barrel of homemade apple cider, which was then sold at 2 bits a mug-full (bits, as Pinkie told me, were small gold coins that constituted the staple currency of Equestria). Both sounded wonderful, but I didn’t know if my stay would even last that long. Still, I was given an enthusiastic farewell from her, her siblings, and her grandmother. *** Pinkie was a mare of her word, and had directed me back into Ponyville before we made a stop at a very colorful and ornate building in the middle of town. The newly-painted sign read “Carousel Boutique”. “So, I take it this is where Rarity lives?” I asked. “Yep! She’s Ponyville’s #1 fashionista!” “Er, I’ve never been much of a judge of good clothing,” I said. Too true. I hated shopping when it came to clothes, especially if I was in the company of someone who actually had a mind to purchase. They always seemed to take forever, even when they said they ‘only needed a minute’ or something like that. It drove me nuts… “You don’t have to be, silly. That’s her job!” said Pinkie. “Now, come on. She shouldn’t be too busy.” She hopped inside, as if she had been expected, the door making a gentle ring from the bell overhead, which was obviously a signal to alert the proprietor of customers. I followed her in, and found myself in a large room full of equine mannequins, mirrors, and silk curtains. Some of the mannequins were bedecked with dresses of a wide variety of fabrics and colors, some decorated with feathers or sequins, and nearly all of them bestowed upon with at least one type of gemstone. It was all so…posh, and I bet dollars to donuts the owner, this ‘Rarity’, would be just the same. “Oh! One moment, please! I’ll be right with you!” The voice that spoke was a woman’s, very elegant and bearing a cosmopolitan sort of accent, indicating a sophisticated upbringing and manner of living. In a twinkling, Pinkie and I were approached by a unicorn who could be none other than Rarity. She was pearl-white, or even marshmallow-white, her mane and tail a deep shade of purple, both done in elegant curls. She had dark-blue eyes with very pronounced eyelashes, as well as light-blue eye shadow. She had a slender, curvy-hipped figure that I didn’t doubt made her quite the attention-grabber when stallions were concerned. At any rate, she was quite beautiful. Her cutie mark was a set of three blue diamonds, in the shape of playing card diamonds. “Hi, Rarity!” chirped Pinkie. “Hello, Pinkie, dear,” said Rarity. “Good to see you. And who might this-” She stopped short, gazing up at me. Her irises shrank to mere pinpoints, and she let out a loud “Wah-ha-HAAA!!” of alarm. I was scared that I actually spooked her, but she said, in an aghast voice, “My goodness gracious, darling, whatever have you been through? Just look at that hair!” “M-My hair?” (A human walks into your boutique, and that's the first thing you notice?) I ran one hand through it. It was true that my hair had been growing out lately, and since I’d run out of the hair gel I usually used to tame it, it was one big jet-black mess. It must’ve looked worse from my having lain down on the grass and running with Pinkie. Not only that, but my jeans were grass-stained, and the gray T-shirt I was wearing was wrinkled and spotted with sweat. It was no wonder she looked so freaked out: I must have looked like a hobo. “Oh, right. Listen, if you want, I’ll just go and-” “Go? Oh, no-no-no, don’t carry on that way,” said Rarity, hurriedly. “I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad, darling. I was going to say that, if you were willing, it’s nothing I can’t fix.” I stared at her in astonishment. “You mean a haircut? You’d do that, for a perfect stranger?” “But of course!” she said, with a twinkle of enthusiasm in her eyes, and giving her curls a prim toss, “This is a rare occasion! I’ve never had the honor of helping a human client. You are a human, are you not?” “Yes, I am.” “Wonderful! What do you say?” It was hard to tell whether or not she was speaking out of personal interest or a sense of business. Either way, she was offering, so who was I to refuse? “Well, I guess it wouldn’t hurt-” “Splendid! Come this way!” She led us into an adjoining room, which seemed to be a salon. There were several sinks and mirrors, swivel chairs, hair dryers, and shelves laden with innumerable bottles of different hair and beauty products. She sat me down in one of the chairs, and before I knew what was happening, a barbering cloak lifted all of its own accord and fixed itself around my neck,. Not only that, but there was a comb and a pair of scissors floating about in the air as well. My heart jumped into my throat. “G-Ghosts!” I yelped. With what I’d seen so far of this world, I was ready to believe that ghosts could very well exist! “Ghosts, darling?” asked Rarity, surprised. “Whatever do you mean?” “T-The cloak! Those scissors! They’re floating by themselves! Is this boutique haunted?!” “Oh, no, no, you silly dear,” said Rarity. “I’m just keeping them aloft with my magic.” “M-Magic?” I looked at the scissors and comb. They were glowing a faint, soft blue. Then I looked at Rarity, and saw that the same glow was coming from her horn. So...unicorns could use telekinesis? That was what their horns were for: channeling magical energy? Magic was real in this world? If I hadn’t been so discombobulated, I would have found this revelation immediately amazing! “Have you never seen unicorn magic before?” Rarity asked. “N-No, never,” I said. “Not this kind of magic, anyway.” “But where do you come from, to not know unicorn magic?” “He came from the sky!” said Pinkie. “The sky had a baby!” Rarity gave her an odd look, just as Applejack had done. “I see," she said. "Well, I do hope I didn’t give you too much of a startle, darling.” “It's kinda my fault," I said. "I had no idea unicorns could use their horns to perform magic. The ones I see in pictures back home look like the horns are mainly for show. In fact, they look dangerous.” “Dear me,” said Rarity. “Well, let us speak no more about it. Now, how would you like your hair done?” She levitated a book of hairstyle examples over to me for my perusal. Well, I should say mane style, if I want to be accurate. Still, the way ponies did up their manes in Equestria wasn’t too different from how humans do it back home. I had to be careful about where my eye lingered, especially on the more outlandish ones, because I bet anything Rarity would think I wanted one of those. At last, I saw one similar to the haircuts I usually got: short, boyish, easy to mold with hair gel. “Something like that,” I said, pointing to it. She peered over my shoulder to see what I was indicating. “Excellent choice! A nice summer cut, coming right up! It would certainly suit you just fine.” She began by levitating a spray bottle of water to wet my hair, spritzing it until it was nice and damp. Then, she started running the comb through before snipping away at it with her scissors. Pinkie sat on her haunches beside me to watch. “Now, why don’t you tell me a bit about yourself? If I'm not mistaken, you were the one making quite a scene in the town square earlier. It quite drove me out of my mind, as I was trying to work.” “Guilty as charged, I suppose. My name’s Dave.” “Dave…” she said, mulling it over. She then nodded with a smile. “Not a bad name: short and simple. I’m Rarity, or Miss Rarity, if you prefer, proprietor of Carousel Boutique, where our fashions are chic, unique, and magnifique.” “Very clever. So, I take it fashion designing is your passion?” That was almost a dumb thing to ask. It was like asking a thief if he liked expensive things. A blind amoeba could have picked that up as soon as they walked into this place. Rarity, however, didn’t mind the obviousness of it. “Very much so! It’s simply divine, Dave, to know that after hours, even days, of toiling away at a sewing machine, you’ve created something remarkable, beautiful, and built to last…” She said this with a fond sort of zeal, and in the mirror, I could see a dreamy look in her pretty eyes. “It’s not that I think it’s not a good profession,” I said, warily, “it’s just that clothing isn’t really something I think a lot about.” “No, I suppose not,” said Rarity, in a regretful tone. “It’s a shame that men are never as enthused about making a good appearance. At the most, all they do is slap on any old T-shirt or jacket and be done with it. It’s a crying shame, really.” “But, don’t ponies usually go around without clothes?” “Of course, but my point still stands. Why, I can keep Spike in my shop for as long as his little heart desires, but as soon as I begin the topic of smartening him up, he makes a beeline for the door!” She sighed. “Boys…” “Spike? He frequents your boutique?” “Certainly. Can’t seem to stay away for too long.” “But, with him being a dragon, aren’t you worried that he might, you know, singe one of your designs?” I asked. “Oh, certainly not!” said Rarity. “Spike is a wonderful, well-behaved boy. He would never be so careless. I’ve seen full-grown dragons before, on the other hoof. Perfect brutes, they are, when they’re older…” “It’s ok, Rarity,” said Pinkie, “I’ve already told him about Spike.” “Oh?” “Pinkie’s been a very helpful tour guide for me,” I said, winking at the pink pony, who beamed. “That’s splendid to hear,” said Rarity, smiling. “If you’re new to Ponyville, the best pony to turn to is Pinkie Pie.” “Aww, shucks, Rarity,” said Pinkie, with a touch of red to her cheeks. Yet another vouch for Pinkie Pie’s reliability toward newcomers. Just who was this pony? Rarity’s hooves (er, I should say, magic), was very skillful. It felt almost exactly the same as if a human barber were working on my hair. As she went on, she made idle chitchat about what had happened to her recently, when so-and-so or what’s-her-face entered her boutique. “And if you would believe it, she actually had the audacity to say my peacock feathers were dyed! My set of authentic, rare peacock feathers, donated from the royal gardens, dyed?! Why, I’d never heard of such a thing! The very nerve! So, then I said-” I couldn’t find myself able to keep track of her gossipy rambling, so all I could do was add “uh-huhs” or “mm-hmms” or “oh, reallys”, which seemed to satisfy her. Pinkie was sitting with her eyes wandering around the room, probably lost in her own thoughts. I glanced about the room myself, and my eyes fell on a framed photo, containing four unicorns. One was unmistakably Rarity, smiling rather embarrassedly, hugging a tall, strongly built stallion with a brown mane and mustache. Across from him was a pink mare with a purple beehive of a mane, and she was hugging a little snow-white filly with a fluffy purple and pink mane, who had a smile so big it was liable to break the boundaries of her cheeks. “Is that your family?” I asked. Rarity stopped chatting and looked up, somewhat startled. “What?” She then saw that I was looking at the picture, and a look of relief came over. “Oh! Oh, yes. That’s me with my father, mother, and little sister, Sweetie Belle.” I couldn’t help but chuckle as my gaze lingered on the widely-smiling filly. “She’s adorable,” I said. Rarity smiled gently. “She is, truly. She’s such an innocent, sweet-natured filly. A bit rambunctious, perhaps, and there are times when she can be a hoofful, but I wouldn’t trade her for anything in the world.” “Siblings,” I chimed in. “You can’t live with them, but you can’t live without them.” “Exactly.” “Sweetie Belle…" I mused. "I knew I heard that name somewhere before. Apple Bloom said she was one of her friends. She’s a…what was the name for it…Cutie Mark Crusader.” “Yes, indeed. I can’t even count the number of times those little scamps have been in the boutique, looking for new ways to earn their cutie marks. If it keeps up, I may need to look up a good child-proofing spell.” She said this with just a hint of exasperation, but I could tell she couldn’t blame them for just being kids. I kinda knew the feeling. I’d spent time volunteering as an assistant for Sunday preschool. The kids could be terrors one minute, but cute the next. “Er, Rarity? Do you mind if I ask you something?” “Mm? What is it?” “Well, it’s kinda something that’s been on my mind ever since I saw you. I wasn’t sure if I should say it, since I figured it might be rude to talk about something like that, but-” Rarity and Pinkie startled giggling. “Oh, darling, there’s no need to be so apologetic," said Rarity. "Honestly, you sound just like Fluttershy.” “Fluttershy?” “Don’t worry, we’ll get to her,” said Pinkie, winking. “Er, right. Well, what I wanted to ask, Rarity, is what diamonds have to do with making clothes?” “Hmm? ...Oh! You mean my cutie mark!” She turned slightly to let the reflection of those three diamonds on her curvy flank show in the mirror. “I suppose it does take an imaginative eye to make the connection. I’ve always been good at designing fashion, even as a filly, but it wasn’t until I discovered my true talent that I finally became satisfied with it: bedazzling them with glimmerous gemstones!” Ohh, so that was why... “I’d wondered why all of your designs had that kind of motif,” I said. “Is it, er, what’s the term…in vogue?” “Oh, no, darling. The more bedazzled ones are for especial clients, or for formal occasions, such as a ball or even the Grand Galloping Gala.” “The Grand Galloping Gala? What’s that?” “You’ve never heard of the Gala?!” asked Rarity, scandalized. “Why, it’s only one of the most prestigious events in all of Equestria: a grand ball to end all balls!” “Eh, I’ve never been much of a party person,” I said, indifferently. “Oh, my dear, you’re sorely missing out!” said Rarity. “Why, a new suit of clothes, and we’d have you spiffed up and presentable for the streets of Canterlot!” I raised an eyebrow. “Canterlot?” (Great, more pun-tastic pony names…) “Goodness, Dave, you’ve got much to learn, if you don’t even know the most basic elements of Equestrian culture.” (Well, ex-cuse me for being new.). “Canterlot’s Equestria’s capital city, and home to the royal throne, where Princess Celestia watches over our land.” “There’s that name again," I said. "I heard someone mention it before, but who’s Princess Celestia? What’s she like?” “Well, I can’t speak personally except for one or two occasions. She’s very noble and benevolent, I can say that. If you want to know more, I’d suggest asking Twilight. She knows more about her than any of us.” “She does?" I asked, curious. "How so?” “Oopsie-doopsy!” said Pinkie, “I guess I never told you. Twilight’s the Princess’s best student!” “Student?!” I asked, astounded. “You mean she studies directly under royalty? ...Wow! What an honor!” “Yeah! It’s made her super-smart and super-good at magic, too!” Pinkie, in her exuberance, began bouncing around so much that she almost upset a stack of shelves full of hair products. Rarity righted it with her magic as Pinkie grinned in a sheepishly apologetic way, the unicorn casting her something like a warning look as she reset the bottles. “She is a clever, sweet girl,” said Rarity. “A visit to Ponyville’s not complete without seeing her.” “Well, I intend to,” I said, “since she might have answers to some big questions I’m hoping to ask.” “Big questions?” asked Pinkie. “Like ‘does the light stay on in the fridge when you close it’?” “What? No.” “Or ‘why someone’s in the kitchen with Dinah’?” “Pinkie, did you already forget what our mission was?” I asked. “Of course not! Get you in to see Twilight so you can talk to her about how you got here! You just never said what else you were gonna ask her, so I guessed!” She beamed, apparently proud of herself. “Right,” I muttered. “Well, hopefully I’ll be able to get the right answers, or I might be here even longer, and with only one set of clothes, too.” Rarity stopped right where she was, an aghast look on her face. She looked as if I had just uttered a dirty word. “You...only have this one set?” she asked, slowly. (Uh oh…) “Er...yes?” I was half-expecting her to explode into a furious tirade, but instead, she said, in a sympathetic tone, “Oh, you poor, poor thing! I could never imagine having only one ensemble to survive on! Ugh, it gives me the shivers just thinking about it!” “I don’t see what the big deal is,” said Pinkie, nonplussed. “Can’t he just go naked like us?” She did not just ask that. Please tell me she did not just ask that. “P-Pinkie!” I spluttered. “Are you nuts?!” “What?” Pinkie asked. “Everypony else does it.” “Pinkie, how can you suggest such a thing?!” Rarity asked, sternly. “Obviously, clothing means a great deal to our human friend here, and we shan’t deprive him of the comfort and protection they provide.” (...Yeah, let’s put it that way.) “Eh, fine, have it your way,” said Pinkie, shrugging. “I still don’t see why it's a big deal.” “Wait a moment…” said Rarity, thoughtfully, before she let out a loud gasp. “I-de-a!” she trilled. “Now, hear me out on this, Dave. If, if, mind you, your stay happens to take longer than you expected, would you mind terribly if I designed you some new clothes myself?” Was she serious? I couldn’t help staring at her. “Y-You want to make me new clothes?” I asked. “Just like that?” “Just like that!” said Rarity. “I see you’re fond of a T-shirt and pants ensemble. Well, nothing could be simpler! You just come by here tomorrow afternoon, at, oh...let’s say 2 o’clock, and we can take your measurements. What do you think?” Her eyes were positively alight with enthusiasm at this idea, as if she were really itching to give this project a go. Still, did I really want to say yes to this? Who knows how long I may even be here? Then again, I just didn’t have the heart to deny her something she obviously wanted to do. With a small sigh, I said, “Sure, I’ll stop by tomorrow.” “Wonderful!” she said. “You shan’t regret this, my dear, I promise you that!” I couldn’t help but smile. For someone so high-class, she was very good-natured. I had always figured people with elitist personalities were a lot more...condescending. “Well, I think that should do it,” she said finally, moving away and producing a small hand mirror. I was surprised. I had been so taken up with our conversation that I hadn’t noticed her work. My hair looked just as it did if I had asked a human barber to give the exact same cut I had requested; Rarity certainly had talent. “How does it look?” she asked. I turned around in my chair to face her, took her dainty hoof in one hand, and kissed it as a gentleman would a woman’s hand. “I couldn’t have asked for finer, Miss Rarity,” I said. It must have been a really hammy display, but it was all in good fun. Rarity giggled and turned red at the cheeks. “Oh, stop it,” she said. With her magic, she whisked the cloak off of me and began dusting the loose hairs off. “And don’t worry about payment. This one was on me.” “Are you sure?” I asked, taken back. “Indeed. Think of it as a little “welcome to Ponyville” gift.” “Well, gosh. Thanks, Rarity.” “My pleasure, dear. I’ll see you here at 2 tomorrow.” “I shan’t keep you waiting, milady,” I said, standing up. Pinkie joined me by my side. I gave a low, gracious bow to the matron of the boutique, which she reciprocated in a like manner, and Pinkie and I exited, my head all in a whirl.