She let Cheerilee in her studio. It made the filly happy, and if nothing else she could bounce ideas off her friend without fear of theft.
Meanwhile, Rarity scribbled on the paper, frowning under the lamp’s glare.
Now, what fabric? Velour, obviously – it’s as close to velvet as knitting fabrics get – but I need ornamentation. Perhaps creativity means interdisciplinary work? I could add brocade patterns, or at least mock-brocade – haha! – but perhaps some matelassé would suffice. Ah, why not? Throw them all in! The richer, the better!
Drat. Won’t work. I’ll have to compromise.
“Urgh!” She threw up her hooves. “Now I have to start all over again! T’chah!”
The scrunched-up ball of paper sailed across the room, bounced off the pile in the bin, and rolled to a halt beside Cheerilee. She was lying on the floor with a blank page before her. Briefly, she let her pencil drop out of her mouth.
“I’m going to lose horribly!” Rarity wailed at her. “Woe is me! Woe is meeeeee!”
“You won’t lose,” said Cheerilee smoothly. “You’re just so keen not to disappoint anyone. In the end, I’m sure everyone will love each other’s works, including yours.”
Rarity gaped at her in horror. She really believes it. She thinks she can smile and talk the world into being right!
Nevertheless, she found herself copying Cheerilee’s smile. They were just words of course, but for a moment, that smile made her think they were utterly, unquestionably true.
Feeling a bit wrong-footed, she said, “And I’m sure Big Mac will love your design too.”
Cheerilee rolled her eyes and picked up her pencil again. Eventually, it occurred to Rarity that conversation wasn’t going to resume anytime soon. She turned back to her desk –
“Knock, knock,” said a chirpy voice from the door.
– and spun round and glared. “This is a private studio!”
“Relax, kiddo,” said the filly, and Rarity instantly recognized Suri Polomare striding towards her. “Just here to give you a proper welcome. Didn’t get a chance at the League, OK?”
At once, Cheerilee shot up and seized her by the hoof. “Wonderful to see you again, Suri! May the best mare win! I’m sure you’ll do our League proud!”
“Back at ya, Cheers! Li’l ray of sunshine!”
Rarity gritted her teeth. A moment ago, Cheerilee had used those exact, encouraging tones to her.
“Suri’s amazing with a needle and thread,” said Cheerilee, as though Rarity had any desire to hear such bad news. “She’s already gotten her cutie mark in haberdashery.”
Suri’s chuckle ran through Rarity like a needle in and of itself. “Stop, please. You’re gonna make me blush, Cheers.”
“Wonderful.” Rarity raised her imperious head and extended a hoof. “Pleased to meet you, Miss Polomare.”
To her alarm, her hoof seared with pain as Suri grabbed it and swung it up and down.
“Nice manners!” Suri let go and wrapped a forelimb over Rarity’s withers. “Sounds like we got ourselves a Canterlot émigré here! Always wanted to meet a big-city type.”
Rarity extricated herself from the grip. “Sweet of you,” she said icily, “but no, I’m indigenous.”
“Never heard of the place,” said Suri cheerfully. She looked over Rarity’s shoulder. “Hey, that’s nice.”
“Back off!” Before she’d stopped to think, Rarity was standing on her chair, limbs splayed between Suri and the desk. “Oh, I know your little game. Well, you’re not spying on my work.”
Suri and Cheerilee stumbled backwards, gaping.
“Rarity!” said Cheerilee. “Calm down. She’s not that kind of pony.”
“Yeah! What the hay, kid?” Suri glowered and snorted. “Sheesh. Just trying to be chummy. No need to bite my head off. Cheers, I’m not wanted here. Catch you later, OK?”
Rarity didn’t relax until the door clicked shut. Then she sighed and returned to her seat, resolutely not looking at Cheerilee. If she could just busy herself with the sketches…
From anger to concern, Cheerilee’s voice broke through. “What’s the matter with you? I don’t usually see you like that.”
“I don’t know,” lied Rarity. “I guess the work's getting to me.”
To her shame, she felt a tiny hoof pat her forelimb. In vain, she tried to shrink where she sat.
“That’s OK. I’ll talk to her later. Promise you’ll relax a bit, OK?”
Rarity still didn’t look up. “OK.”
“I know you, Rarity. Sure, you might be a bit… much… but I just know you’ll be smiling and patting backs with the best of them. You’re always so courteous.”
Rarity didn’t say anything. She could feel acid boiling away in her stomach, and still her mind heard smugness in Suri’s echoing voice.
Three days passed, and still the smug voice wormed through her head. She stopped curling her mane. She skipped meals. Only when she found herself snapping at her parents’ worried questions did Rarity finally flee the house.
Luck was on her side; she found Cheerilee out and about on the grassy streets. Luck wasn’t exactly committed, however; she found Cheerilee by bumping into her.
“Oof!” Rarity shot to her hooves at once and helped her up. “Please forgive me, Cheerilee!”
“Rarity! You look awful. Here, come with me. Let me get you a treat from Sugarcube Corner.”
They strode side-by-side, almost bumping haunches. Even now, walking under the sun, between the cottages, across the crunchy grass, Rarity still felt haunted. Dresses flitted in and out of her thoughts. Not gilded enough. Not gaudy enough. Not grandiose enough.
“How good,” she said, having completely ignored whatever Cheerilee was chatting about, “is Suri, exactly?”
“Oh, she’s fantastic,” said Cheerilee. “Matilda reckons she could start her own line someday.”
Rarity’s forehead prickled with sweat. “At Canterlot level?”
“Could be!”
That was my dream. I was going to start my own line. I’m supposed to be a fashionista! Maybe if I used jewellery to spruce up my entry, I could sail past that scoundrel Suri and her oh-so-perfect…
Out of the question. If I resort to jewellery, then what about my knitting? I'm just covering it up. But gemstones got me my cutie mark, not fashion. Oh, gemstones on clothes, maybe, but there’s more to fashion than…
“Um. Rarity? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
Rarity stopped in mid-walk.
What have I DONE!?
“Rarity?” Cheerilee turned to face her.
“Cheerilee,” she warbled. “You know I’m a fashionista, right?”
“Of course! You’re so good with dresses and designing! And the artistry! Wow!” Smiling braces dazzled under the sunlight. “You couldn’t have found a better calling.”
“Anything else?”
Cheerilee’s braces vanished. “Sorry?”
“Well, look at you. Sure, you don’t have a cutie mark right now, but one day…”
Eyes narrowed. “What’s your point?”
“I mean, it could be anything. Anything you wanted. You’re not tied down yet. If anything’s poison to creativity, it’s being tied down. Um.” Those narrowed eyes got to her. “Cheerilee? You appreciate what I’m trying to say, yes?”
Cheerilee held the glower for one second longer than was comfortable. Then she eased back. No smile returned.
“I think you’re letting this contest get to you,” she said, placing each word down as though handling glass. “Come on. Let’s go talk to Matilda.”
“Oh no.” Rarity backed away. “I couldn’t possibly.”
“It’ll do you some good.”
“Uh… on second thoughts… I think I…”
In a needling voice, Cheerilee said, “Rarity. You should listen to me.”
Rarity sighed. There was no fighting that voice. Even Miss Pencil Sharpener, the current schoolmarm of Ponyville, couldn’t conjure tones as threatening as those. They spoke of long afternoons in detention, of chalkboard duties revoked, of stern notes being read by shocked parents.
Rarity shrugged helplessly. “O-Only because it’s you.”
Like a little star emerging from a passing cumulus, Cheerilee’s smile twinkled. “Great! Come on.”
Rarity didn’t speak the whole way; Cheerilee’s shoulders were stiff.
When they reached Matilda’s cottage, Rarity stared instead at the ivy-smothered walls and the trimmed thatch over the porthole windows. How could a jenny with such elegant interior design be satisfied with such a rustic little hovel?
Cheerilee rapped the front door. The first thing Rarity noticed after it opened was Matilda wearing pearl earrings. Finest Canterlot pearl, from the rare Mountain Oyster species.
“Good morning, girls!” said Matilda cheerfully.
Always “cheerfully”, Rarity thought. Whenever Cheerilee’s around.
“Um,” she said.
“Sorry to disturb you, Miss Matilda.” Cheerilee bobbed her head politely. “My friend Rarity’s a little nervous about the contest.”
Surprised, Matilda raised her long ears higher and peered into Rarity’s not-quite-stare; those pearls really were too good for Ponyville.
“Oh, don’t you worry, dear,” said Matilda, relaxing around the eyes. “It’s only your first time. So long as you enjoy your knitting, that’s all I really ask.”
“It’s not that.” Rarity shuffled her hooves. Talking to Matilda reminded her of those family reunions when her parents had insisted she give Granny some company. “It’s… Well, you’re from Canterlot.”
Matilda winked. “Good guess.”
“You know all about quality… and artistic vision… and creativity…?”
“Oh, I know all about that. Don’t you worry about the Canterlot way, dear. Sometimes, simpler ways are the most elegant.” At this, Matilda sighed. When she spoke next, she didn’t seem to be on the same world anymore. “Yes, there’s a lot to be said for simpler ways. Take Ponyville. Not a stone’s throw away from the capital, and yet so quiet and peaceful. Everyone knows everyone. Oh, sometimes a bit bad-tempered and rough around the edges, but that’s part of the charm.”
After some shuffling, Cheerilee nudged Rarity in the ribs.
“She occasionally goes off like this,” Cheerilee whispered. “She met a beau in Canterlot once.”
“A beau?”
“A lover. Canterlot's one of the most romantic Equestrian cities.” To Rarity’s surprise, Cheerilee sighed dreamily. “I’d love to go there one day, but everything’s so expensive. Anyway…” She giggled. “I’d have to take someone.”
Rarity wisely kept mum. None of this was news to her. In fact, she had a few royal names in her diary, as well as cuttings from magazines and posters.
Only Prince Charming for me, she thought with a smirk.
Shaking out of her reverie, Matilda beamed down at them. “Anyway: it’s fine wanting to try your best, but you must be sure, when you start out, that it’s what you really love to do.”
Rarity swallowed. “OK…”
“I know! How about I take you both to Sugarcube Corner and get you some nice treats? The Cakes know me. And maybe we can forget about the contest and enjoy this fine summer’s day?”
Cheerilee cheered. While Matilda locked the door and ambled down the road, Cheerilee gambolled and hopped about at the mere thought of those chocolate delights.
Rarity shuffled along behind them. So she must be sure. It’s what she really wanted to do.
Wasn’t it?
Once more, she glanced at her cutie mark. Three inscrutable, doomed diamonds. In her head, a lock clicked into place.