//------------------------------// // I. An Appointment Neglected // Story: The Dao of Fluttershy // by ashi //------------------------------// When the awful rumbling sound loosed itself disdainfully from her stomach – seemingly growing in intensity until it felt as though the entire shop was shaking on its foundations – Rarity sensed her ivory muzzle turn bright crimson and she remembered one important fact: Fluttershy was always late. In fact, she found herself thinking as the delicate lines of her snout tightened in irritation, if Twilight Sparkle does ever get around to rewriting The Book of Universal Truths she could add that little gem right next to the one about most of Equestria's problems only needing about half an hour to solve, or a whole hour if they're particularly vexing, and the one about Rainbow Dash always finding exactly the wrong thing to say to the wrong pony at the wrong time. Her muzzle refused to uncrease itself when, for what seemed like the eightieth time, Rarity ignited her horn and sifted through the various magazines that had been delivered to Carousel Boutique earlier that morning. She fancied that she now knew more about the grapes of Baltimare's wine-growing region than she did about whip-stitching … and whip-stitches were one of her favourite types of stitching.         It wasn't that she was bothered by the pegasus' tardiness as such, even if it did mean that she ended up eating far more than she'd intended for lunch; being fashionably late was a much-lauded skill in certain social skills, particularly those ones that Rarity often found herself navigating, after all. She knew that Fluttershy's job kept her busy. There were many animals in and around Ponyville that needed tending to whenever they were sick or injured, and her sideline work in monitoring the plethora of amazing and terrifying creatures which resided within the confines of the mysterious Everfree Forest would've been a full-time career for most all by itself, meant that she was constantly occupied. More than once, Fluttershy's friends had come to visit only to find her half-starved and half-exhausted because she'd expended so much energy on her charges that she'd simply forgotten that she had to make time to care for herself every now and then.         Releasing a pent-up breath, Rarity shuffled the magazines once more, placing them back on the table in the lobby while she tried desperately not to pace back and forth; as much as she hated to admit it, least of all to herself, she was worried about her friend … and that worry tended to manifest itself as a compulsion to re-order the stock of her shop simply to get her reeling mind to shut up for an hour. As she worked at sorting the dresses, she reflected bitterly that she'd already done this no more than week ago and it was difficult to improve upon perfection.         Still, she tried.         Fluttershy was an animal carer par excellence; Rarity doubted that anypony in Equestria could match the sheer depth and breadth of her knowledge, and even if she did give off the impression that she was nothing more than a weak and helpless wallflower nothing could have been further from the truth. One only had to look at her greatest work, Discord – and frankly, it wasn't as if you were given much of a choice as the draconequus did not quite grasp the meaning of the word subtle – to understand that. To know that, as sweet as she was, there was a very fine edge of steel to Fluttershy that one did not want to be on the receiving end of. Knowing that, thought Rarity, shuffling a sparkly green dress back and forth several times on the rack, why do I still have this quiver of anxiety gnawing away at me?         Pausing in her quite pointless task, Rarity felt a prickly twinge of guilt creeping along her spine; that question was easy enough to answer, even though doing so sent a wave of shame surging through her body. So powerful was it that it temporarily disrupted her magical control and the blue-ish aura surrounding her horn – to say nothing of several expensive dresses it encompassed – dissipated without warning, sending them scattering to the floor. With a grunt of annoyance, she bent to retrieve them, glad of the fact that she was alone. In spite of her best efforts to do otherwise, she still saw Fluttershy as the weak and helpless filly that she appeared to so many others to be.         With the dresses smoothed out and restored to some semblance of order, Rarity tried to push her mean thoughts about Fluttershy aside; even though they had gone through innumerable adventures together, and even though she had seen just how tough the little pegasus could be when pushed, Rarity could not disabuse herself of the notion that she really was just a timid little mouse who needed to be constantly babysat. Unfortunately, it did not ease her conscience one iota to know that their other friends held much the same opinion regarding Fluttershy. If anything, that knowledge only made things worse. We try so hard to be more than the stereotypes that ponies have about us, but in the end that's all they'll ever remember us for. I wonder if Fluttershy knows that this is how we think about her. Would she be grateful for our concern, or would she be annoyed because all we're doing is patronising her? Much more likely, she'd simply politely refuse to talk to us about it, go off and sulk on her own – or to that infernal rabbit of hers – before carrying on as if nothing had even happened.         Slumping into a chair and frowning, Rarity's thoughts turned to the practical difficulties of having an introvert for a best friend; just between her and her diary, she had often mused that it was as if she'd been given the responsibility of caring for an extremely precious, extremely fragile, jewel: on the one hoof, she wanted to polish it to a brilliant sparkle, for it to shine brightly and to be admired by as many ponies as possible, but the slightest mistake in handling it could see it shattering into a thousand disparate pieces, never to be cherished by anypony ever again.         Fluttershy's happiness was foremost on her mind, and that required bending to her wishes to not be pressured into situations which might require close contact with other, strange ponies. Given that she could barely open up to her closest friends, this was only logical, and could be tolerated up to a point. That said, if she could just take a chance, spread her wings – literally as well as figuratively – be brave, try new things, and maybe even push herself to meet new ponies … well, who knew what could happen? Loathe as she was to admit it, even privately to her diary, Rarity wished that Rainbow Dash's exuberant influence could have rubbed-off on Fluttershy even just a little bit.         Once upon a time, Twilight, after swallowing a book on astronomy, had described Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash as defining a Lagrange Point: two perfectly counterbalanced forces keeping each other in check with neither one exerting enough influence over the other to gain the upper-hoof. Basically, they stopped each other from giving into their more extreme impulses. Maybe it was wrong to tamper with that? Maybe pushing Fluttershy to be more outspoken would only ruin their dynamic? I really need a glass of red wine if I'm going to contemplate such things, Rarity thought with a wry grin forming on her perfectly made-up muzzle. Her eyes alighted upon one of the magazine covers depicting an elegantly-dressed couple descending a grand marble staircase. Has Fluttershy ever been on a date in the entire time that I've known her? Probably not, unless she's been keeping them a secret from me.         A few months ago, one of her regular customers had happened to let slip the fact that he was newly-single; like Fluttershy, he was something of a self-observer, and he was also interested in animals, so it would've been a perfect match. In Rarity's much-vaunted opinion, anyway. Fluttershy had never said anything about being lonely as long as she had her friends and her menagerie at home to look after, but surely she wanted something more than that? The faintest ghost of a smirk tugged at the corners of Rarity's mouth as she recalled broaching the subject with Fluttershy one day.         She had mentioned all of this to her, and while he wasn't the best-looking of ponies, she figured that Fluttershy wasn't all that big on external appearances, anyway. He was nice, he was sweet, and wasn't that all that mattered? Fluttershy herself was absolutely gorgeous, but she'd never had to work for it; other than for special occasions, she didn't bother with make-up, and Rarity had always been secretly envious of the fact that she spent hours trying to recreate what the pegasus had been given by birth alone. If Fluttershy had kept up her modelling career, doubtless she'd be one of the richest, most famous ponies in Equestria by now.         Well. She already has the fame-part, though the ponies around here are decent enough not to harp on about having saved the world half a dozen times now.         When Rarity had suggested setting up a date with him, however, Fluttershy had simply given her a lopsided glance with the sort of expression on her face that one might have used had they proposed eating a live cragadile and so Rarity had shelved any future plans to set her friend up.         Maybe she just wasn't interested in dating? It was certainly possible, though Rarity wasn't so sure about that; while she'd never seen her romantically-involved with another pony, Twilight Sparkle had once mentioned that, in addition to the expected books on animal care and similar subjects, Fluttershy most often borrowed romantic novels from the library. Rarity guessed that the pegasus had, as with her singing – until she'd convinced her to join the Pony Tones, anyway – simply compartmentalised away her feelings because of her belief that she was just not good enough, reducing herself to living out her fantasies vicariously.         Shaking herself loose from her sour thoughts, Rarity stood up and her eyes drifted toward the clock; Fluttershy was now more than an hour late, and that was excessive by even her standards. Normally, if she was going to be delayed for this long, or if she was going to cancel their meeting altogether, she would've gotten a note to her by now in order to let her know of the change in plans. Not that she was expecting anything, Rarity nonetheless hurried into the lobby just in case such a message had been delivered but she'd been too wrapped up in her introspection to notice.         Nothing. Something is wrong, said one part of Rarity's gut. I'm hungry, another, altogether more impatient part, said, let's just go to lunch without her.         Tempting though it was to grab a bite to eat right now, Rarity knew that she would not feel at ease doing so until she'd actually gone to Fluttershy's cottage in order to check up on her errant friend. Maybe she was being a Mother Hen, but right now that hardly mattered to her; over the years, whether it was something as simple as deciding upon which stitch to use to hem a dress with or something as complex as her dealings with her friends, Rarity had long ago learned to trust her instincts, and they were telling her now that something was wrong with the pegasus. It wouldn't have mattered if they were warning her about Applejack or Rainbow Dash, her reaction would have been the same.         Except. The feeling is about Fluttershy, and that absolutely DOES make a difference to things, doesn't it?         Not even stopping to grab her saddlebags, Rarity practically bounded out of the front door and started off in the direction of Fluttershy's cottage at a brisk trot, all the while trying to push the nagging sensation of something horrible having happened to her to the back of her mind.