"Have you seen Moonie?" You ask a passerby.
The stallion shrugs as he carries on his way. Then as you turn around to gaze over the landscape to think, a mare pipes up.
"I saw her at Carousel Boutique earlier."
"Oh, thanks," you reply hastily while a little taken aback at the thought of Moonie being there of her own free will.
As you make your way over, you ponder all the various reasons she'd be there. Only one seems the most likely. Now you don't want to be one of those types who always assume she is up to something, but typically, she is. Besides, Moonie has never seemed to be the type to be into fashion, or any of that lady-like jargon. Then again, you aren't the type either. Maybe she is, and just hasn't approached you about it.
As you look downwards, you remark to yourself, "then again I wear more clothes than anyone else in this town. Why wouldn't she talk to me about it?"
You conclude that, for whatever reason, she most likely isn't there of her own free will.
The bell chimes as you step inside the fashionista's home and store.
"Hello? Rarity?"
You wait for a moment before the pattering of hooves come hastily downstairs.
"Ah, Anonymous. Darling, what brings you here?"
"Looking for Moonie, I heard she was here sometime today."
"She... Was."
Rarity avoids eye contact which makes you suspicious, then leading you to notice other cues. She shuffles a hoof just slightly, sucks her lips in a touch, and her eyes meet yours for the briefest of moments before retreating.
"Rarity--"
"She made me promise not to tell," she abruptly pleads, "Nothing is wrong and it's really, really exciting. But... I can't say. A promise between ladies is stronger then diamonds."
"I see," you reply slowly as you eye the giddy lady, "but... You want to tell me, don't you?"
"Of course not. Because I promised. But if... If I had not given my word, then I'd think it a delightful bit of news."
"Fair enough. Even if you can't tell me what it is, can you at least tell me if she is here."
"Oh, yes. Just upstairs in my workshop," she replies distantly as she eyes a customer entering, "Welcome to Carousel Boutique. Where every garment is chic, unique, and magnifique."
As she begins to lead the well-dressed mare to what seems to be the pricey end of the display, you stand idly for a moment. You wanted to ask a few questions more but then curiosity grips you as you realise Rarity's attention is completely gripped on the sale. A quick glance upstairs then back to the two mares who are both "ooh"ing and "ahh"ing at a shimmering gown spurs your confidence.
Eagerly, quickly, and most important, quietly, you head upstairs and past a few doors to where you know Rarity's workshop to be. You grip the handle and turn it slowly to open it ever so slightly.
Inside, sitting before a vanity, Moonie is humming to herself. Her little legs kick about as she turns this what and that to admire her hair. It's done up in a bun, tied with a string of pearls, and little strands billow in their usual ethereal manner to frame her face. But more astonishing is the make up. Cheeks glow with purple blush faintly as her eyelashes flutter. There isn't much more make up so you assume it's a work in progress. Or maybe it is finished. You find yourself wondering about this sort of thing, as clearly you're clueless to it. Then Moonie turns her head once again to notice something in the reflection. She peers closer to eye it carefully and then your eyes meet.
Moonie takes a great big intake of air before unleashing a great and unearthly scream. The loud screech of a wail hots notes that even a banshee's ears might split. It's enough to send you into a frenzy as you leap down the stairs, three or four steps at a time, and are out the door before Rarity can try to lecture you.