“And that's when she lifts me up in her strong, buxom arms...” Rarity—with stars in her eyes—paused before the rows of multi-colored fabric to gesture before the stained-glass windows of her boutique. “...and the moonlight catches the golden glisten of her hay-blonde hair! And with a purr in her voice that would make leopards jealous, she stares deep into my soul and says: 'My loft or yours, fair maiden?'”
She sighed.
She rested a hand over her bosom.
She whimpered out the side of her powdery lips.
“...but I wake up before the nightly dream can reach its exquisite culmination.” A pouting expression. “Isn't that positively dreadful?”
Flash Sentry stood before her, upper body aching from all the stacks of silken fabrics he held balanced in his forearms. His eyes gazed at the urban grayness beyond the nearby window frame. “Is it something in the water...?” he droned.
Rarity blinked at him. “Hmmmm?”
“I suppose not,” Flash sighed. “Or else all the frogs would go extinct.”
“Flash, darling, what are you going on about?”
He snapped out of it and donated her a friendly smile. “You were saying about this Applejack dream of yours...?”
“Uhhff!” Rarity huffed, grabbing another armful of fabrics and stacking it atop Flash's already tenuous load. “Honestly, Mr. Sentry! Due in no small part to your gentlemanly confidence, I was simply sharing a frustratingly reoccurring vision of mine that has been haunting my sleep as of late!” She sashayed across the boutique and motioned for him to follow. “What ever made you infer any relation to our dearest friend Applejack??”
“Uhm...” Flash's eyes were razors as he followed her to her work studio. “...because this woman you keep dreaming about is tall...”
“I like exceptional height.”
“And blonde.”
“'Tis a good color.”
“Freckled and with green eyes.”
“Merely a coincidence—”
“And...” He grunted, heaving the fabrics up a step or two until he stood evenly with her beside her work desks. “...she has a distinctly southern accent in all fantasy encounters.”
“Erm...” Rarity twiddled her colored fingernails nervously together. “Which one? The pirate version or the vampire version?”
“Both.”
Rarity sighed, leaning faintly against the back of a desk chair. “... … ...am I truly that transparent, darling?”
Flash managed a sweaty smile. “When you're white as a sheet, Rarity, you tend to show all the warmest colors.”
“Alas... a curse I shall never be cleansed of.” She waved a finger at the edge of the desk. “Right there, if you would please. You've been burdened enough as it is, you poor thing.”
Flash deposited the heavy fabrics with a breath of relief. “Who are you dressing up?” he wheezed, wiping his brow. “The local sumo team?”
“It's... just a phase, right?” Rarity asked, blushing noticeably. “I've... always wanted a strong... dashing... dependable and strong presence in my life...”
Flash rubbed his aching shoulder. “You don't say...”
She twirled a purple bang or two, gazing at a desktop photo of a certain blonde friend. “It's just that... she's always there... always so on point with everything I need or ask from her...” A soft sigh. “...smelling of a full day's worth of hard work and sweat and hay... with just a hint of jasmine.” A chuckle escaped her pretty lips. “The oversized minx. She said she threw the bottle I gave her away...”
“Uhhhhh—”
“But I'll grow out of it.” Rarity cleared her throat, straightening her body into a prim and proper work-pose as she slid into a chair and switched on her sewing machine. “Perhaps my beleaguered mind doesn't quite know what to do with the wayward emotions I feel when around Applejack, but—like all phases—I'll carry myself on through it... psyche in tow. It's only a matter of time.”
“You would know best, Rarity.”
“Indeed I would. A proper lady keeps her priorities straight.”
Flash nodded. He opened his mouth to say something—
“Incidentally, though, I have to ask...” She turned and gestured towards the fabric. “In the off-chance that Applejack and I were to collectively attend a fancy soiree in uptown Canterlot City, do you think we would both look equally exquisite in salmon pink?”
Flash merely stared at her.
Rarity gulped. “Right.” She pivoted in her chair until she faced the sewing machine. “I see cold showers for a week in my future.”