//------------------------------// // Sunday Morning // Story: The Waters of March // by Bandy //------------------------------// Dash knew from experience that Rarity was a pony of action. She rose with the morning sun out of habit and immediately thought of five things to do before lunch. Her eyes were all orange and yellow and warm and bright as she made herself up, even when they weren't reflecting the tropical sun. But as Dash had been reminded of when picking out her swimwear, colors had many different shades. Dash was reclining on a plastic folding chair when Rarity walked outside. Disturbing the peace of the moment seemed mean, so Dash closed her eyes and pretended to be asleep . She could feel the unicorn's eyes on her for a moment before she walked off into the sand. When Dash opened her eyes again, Rarity was walking down the beach towards town. It felt strangely intimate to see her like this, with the colors of the sun falling into her and casting a curved shadow across the sand. It was all oranges and yellows. Bright and warm. ---------- Rainbow Dash knew herself as a pony of action. For example, she acted on her impulse to doze in the folding chair until Rarity returned, then acted like she was asleep again. She became understandably distraught when Rarity started poking her in the side. Her resolve to stay in bed until the tides washed the island away was strong. A little teasing wouldn’t make Dash buckle. It was the ice-cold bottle of champagne pressed against the back of her neck a moment later that made her buckle. Dash peeled herself off the ceiling to the mad cackling of an abusive unicorn. “Not funny!” Dash hissed. Rarity took a second to compose herself, then collapsed into giggles again. “Whatever.” Dash eyed the paper bags sitting on the floor by the door. “You’re making breakfast for that.” “Okay,” Rarity finally croaked. “Okay, fine, I deserve it.” “What did you get, anyway?” With a flick of her horn, Rarity swept the bags up and spread the contents across the table. “Wheat toast, eggs for scrambling, butter, orange juice, and a little surprise which you've already noticed.” Dash nervously glanced at the bottle of champagne, which Rarity had set on the table alongside the other groceries. “Is that... Prench?” “Do you like it?” “Rares, I hate to break it to you, but it’s not New Years. We don’t need Prench champagne. We don't even need regular champagne.” Rarity sauntered over and took the bottle from Dash. “We will need it if we want to make mimosas.” “What’s that, some kind of protein shake?” Dash grimaced at the thought of tasting alcohol and whey together. “It’s champagne and orange juice. I woke up this morning, and the sun was so beautiful, and I thought, why don’t we have mimosas on the beach? I for one can never find an occasion to make mimosas. So here we are in paradise, with the sun rising, the birds chirping, and--look at that! They just happened to stock high-shelf champagne at the market. Isn’t that a sign?” “Yeah,” Dash muttered, gnawing at the plastic wrap around the toast, “the universe wants us to day-drink.” “Hey.” Dash turned to face Rarity and instantly regretted it. Her eyes were so earnest they almost hurt to look at. Full of life. Bright. Warm. “Yeah?” “Go get some cups and mix the orange juice and champagne fifty-fifty. Find a nice spot on the beach and I’ll meet you out there.” Twenty thoughts all came together at the same time. Rainbow Dash was a pony of action. She knew an opportunity when she saw one! Without another word, she bolted to the porch, threw a few folding chairs and her towel over her back, and headed for the beach. While Rainbow Dash was a pony of action, she soon realized with no small amount of shame that she was not a pony of subtlety. In no time at all they were sitting there on the edge of the beach, their breakfast balanced on the seawall just behind them, hooves in the sand, butts in beach chairs, mimosas sweating gently, sun above them, earth below, birds in the air, sun in the sky, no one saying a word-- It was just so hard to approach. If she didn’t have an ulterior motive, Dash was certain it would have been easier. Now, though? The words came out all wrong. “So, I love you,” Dash started. “Wait, no I don’t.” Rarity giggled. “I sure hope you do, my dear. I love you very much.” She took Dash’s leg in her hoof and squeezed it a little. “Uh, yeah.” Birds. Sky. Sand. Breakfast--lunch? It might as well have been lunch. Irrelevant thoughts always got the loudest when serious thinking needed to be done. Dash soldiered on. “Yeah, me too. And it’s why I love you so much that, uhm, I want to know if you’re happy.” “Of course I’m happy. This weekend has been just wonderful.” “Ok, but like, I meant the other kind of happy. Happy like, I want to know if you’re happy with the ponies in your life.” “Of course I am. I am thankful beyond belief for the ponies in my life. Especially you.” How it killed Dash to hear that! “Thanks, Rarity.” “What are you thinking about, dear? What brings all of this up?” “Well--I guess it’s because we’re safe here.” “Yes, I suppose so, unless you count the potential for tsunamis.” “Yeah--no, not tsunamis.” Did ponies count as forces of nature? Some sure felt like it. “I mean, we’re far away from everyone else. We can be honest with each other.” “Of course we can.” “And, since we’re so far away, I just thought you’d feel safe enough to talk about this.” “I would feel safe?” “Yeah. I know you’re sometimes scared to talk about sensitive things.” “Mhmm.” “So, I was kinda thinking you’d feel safe now that we’re a million miles away from everything else. Like, this is the safest place to talk about your feelings.” “Mhmm.” “So, since we’re both so safe here, I thought I would just ask about you, and your feelings--and, you know, if you’re happy with the ponies in your life. The stallions in your life.” Rarity lifted her eyebrows. “I never thought I’d hear the day Rainbow Dash wanted to talk about stallions.” “I don’t,” she shot back, “I just want to know if you’re happy with the ones in your life. Like, you know, the ones in your life.” “In my life, huh.” Rarity thought for a moment. “Well if you insist on hearing it, no. I’m not happy with the stallions in my life. They all pale in comparison to my amazing friends, and if I can’t find a colt who does something for me my friends can’t, then why would I spend time with the colts when I could spend time with you? Does that make sense?” A sign of life! “Yeah, that makes sense.” “If you’re worried about some Blueblood swooping in and stealing me from my friends--” “I’m not,” she said, “I’m not. I’m just--curious.” “And I appreciate your curiosity.” Rarity smiled knowingly. Maybe not knowingly. Maybe she didn’t know at all. Why was all of this so difficult? “So, is there a stallion in your life?” “Absolutely not. No one can slow me down,” Dash replied automatically. It was the truth, too. Lies were always the easiest to stomach when they were steeped in the truth. “Of course dear, no one can slow you down--but is there a colt in your life?” This time, Rarity’s voice held no hint of questioning. “No. No colts.” Rarity turned her attention back to her breakfast. Lunch. Whatever. Dash kicked one leg around in the sand and waited for her to say something. Finally, Rarity replied in a voice barely louder than the ocean, “I’m sorry, I hope I haven’t upset you. I was just curious.” What? “No, I wasn’t mad!” “You sounded a little mad,” Rarity said as she took another bite of her food. “I wasn’t mad, okay?” Rarity sized her up. How strange it was to enjoy the feeling. “Okay, I believe you.” “Good.” “A mare, maybe?” Birds took flight as Dash groaned. “I said I wasn’t mad, okay?” She grabbed her plate and started stuffing herself with whatever was left. Warm pieces of fruit and half a crepe met their fate. “M’m not mad,” she mumbled around the last few bites. “M’m not.” “Do you feel safe here?” “Course I do.” “Do you want to talk about anything?” “No.” A bemused look from Rarity made Dash reconsider her answer. “I just want to talk about you.” “Just me?” “Yeah.” “Because I have a feeling you want to talk about you.” “I am talking about you.” “When you’re asking about me?” “I’m not mad, okay?” “I never said--” “Then stop playing word tricks on me.” A moment of silence popped their little bubble. Rarity looked down the beach, while Dash studied the surf. “I don’t mean to pry,” Rarity finally said. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry.” Dash kicked the sand. “I’ll tell you the truth. I’m mad. Not at you. Just at everything else. Everything’s confusing and it’s all moving so fast, but nothing’s changing. This weekend’s almost over and I don’t feel better. I don’t know what I’m trying to find, but I can’t find it at home and I can’t find it here. I’m not convinced it’s anywhere in between either--I flew over there on my way here and I didn’t see it.” Rarity was sitting up now, facing her. “What is it?” “I don’t know.” “Dash--” “This vacation is supposed to make everything better. It was, anyway. It’s almost over now.” “Then why don’t we do something?” “I’m always doing something. If I needed to just do something to feel better I probably would have done it by now.” Rarity stood up. “Not that you would know, but today is Sunday.” “Yeah?” “And if you had read the brochure the bellhop left on your bed, you’d know that every Sunday there’s a wonderful earth pony guitarist who comes and plays in the village.” “The brochures on my bed? Rares, I haven’t used my bed yet.” “I know. I’m trying to ignore that. He’s playing from noon til four. Let’s go see him.” Dash looked up. The sun was further along than she thought. So little time left before--before what? She returned to Ponyville? Went back to work? Fought more monsters? It all seemed so far away. Her future felt so much like her past. But Dash was a mare of action. Not subtlety. Not grace. Not basic conversational skills. But action, she could do. “Okay,” she said, “let’s go.”