Looking at Carousel Boutique, Twilight tried to shake the weird feeling of déjà vu.
After she'd left the restaurant and gone back to the library, she had eaten her meal and spent the rest of the afternoon in and out of a restless sleep. Her dreams had been disjointed and vague. She couldn't remember any specifics now, only vague fragments filtered through a lens of delirium. She could, however, remember that they had all been nightmares. The room had been so hot, she had been drenched when she awoke.
Memories of the previous night were fleeting and still eluded her. She had at least finally recalled going for her walk and ending up at the Royal Cross, but nothing after she left for home. The obvious answer was that she had been so bothered by everyone's bizarre behaviour at the pub that she'd cracked some wine, and this would have been nice to settle on. But Twilight was a scholar, and she didn't cast judgement from incomplete data sets. As such, she'd wait until the rest of the night returned to her. It would come back, it always came back.
Once Twilight had managed to fully recover there had only been time to have a brief shower and make her mane at least adjacent to presentable before rushing out to meet Rarity.
The walk over was better than usual. It was a Friday night, and even in a place like Ponyville it meant the town was livelier. She had even managed to avoid getting lost in Ponyville's winding streets, and quickly found herself stood on the shore peering at Rarity's island. Moving toward it felt like something that needed surmounting, like actually going out to sea. Twilight didn't really understand why that was, she'd been here plenty of times!
She'd been here...
Music was playing from the inside of Carousel Boutique. Rarity, ever the teenager at heart apparently, liked to blast it when she was getting ready, necessitating Twilight to knock constantly for several moments. Eventually the message seemed to get through and the door swung open to reveal Rarity, makeup perfect, dress tasteful, expression confident. Compared to the dressing gown-clad mare still obscured by a facemask that usually opened the door on such occasions, this was quite the seachange.
"Hey Rarity! Ready to go?" Twilight beamed, determined to be better company than she had been earlier today.
Rarity didn't respond, instead she gave Twilight a long look up and down, lips pursed and mind clearly whirring.
"Darling... are you surprised that I'm already ready to leave?" Rarity asked, eyes still scanning Twilight.
Can she actually read minds?
"What? Haha what do you... okay yeah I'm pretty surprised," she gave up on the lie before it had even fully had chance to begin.
"And why do you think I am ready so uncharacteristically early, darling?"
"Erm... this is the time we agreed on?" Twilight offered lamely. The look in Rarity's eyes told her that this was not the reason. In fact, based on where said eyes were currently focused the reason seemingly had something to do with Twilight's mane.
Oh no.
Before the unicorn could much as blink, Rarity had telekinetically seized her tail and was all but dragging her up the stairs. She found herself swiftly bundled into a pitch black room she hadn't entered before. As soon as Rarity shut the door she bundled Twilight into a chair and flicked the lights on. She was sat in front of an enormous set of mirrors. so many that Twilight could nearly see all the way round to the back of her head.
"I only ask for fifteen minutes," Rarity began, speaking too quickly for Twilight to interject with her usual litany of protests, "Fifteen minutes and I'll only do your mane. No makeup, no dresses, and if you don't like it I'll put it back."
Despite herself, Twilight grinned. It felt good to get back to some semblance of normality after the last couple of days, and what could be more normal than Rarity begging an obstinate, unyielding Twilight to accept a makeover. But normalcy could also be overrated, and sometimes required a twist of the unexpected. So tonight Twilight would relent and accept the offer. They weren't stuck in the same cafe, she wasn't being pricked with stares she wasn't even sure were real. They were in a room Twilight didn't even know the boutique had and Twilight was letting Rarity work on her hair.
This is okay Twilight, this is what ponies do.
Rarity stepped forward at Twilight's approval with a matching smile, briefly appraised the current state of Twilight's mane and then got to work. When she wasn't overcome with excitement like she had been when they first met, Rarity had a stunningly gentle touch. At first Twilight had been watching what she was doing in the mirror but after a short while her eyes fluttered shut and she allowed herself to just enjoy it all. Rarity hummed while she worked. Some disjointed, unsettling melody. It might have scared Twilight if someone with a less pleasant voice had been humming instead.
But it wasn't, it was Rarity, and she had a lovely voice. Made for singing and soothing.
After far too little time that gentle voice stirred Twilight into opening her eyes. When she saw her reflection her breath hitched. Rarity had always corrected ponies when they said her special talent was making dresses. In fact, her special talent was creating beauty, and while Twilight had never really been one to focus on her physical appearance she couldn't deny Rarity's obvious skill. Because staring back was a poor imitation of the utilitarian look Twilight had always adopted. Staring back at her was someone beautiful.
Did it make her a hypocrite? Did it undermine her lifelong assertion that she wasn't concerned with her looks when Twilight felt her eyes mist slightly? Did it blow open the small cracks of insincerity, the needles of repressed sorrow whenever she tried on a new dress to find it didn't fit, the slight of betrayal whenever someone agreed with her about not caring? Even as she tried to find the shame Twilight found it totally overshadowed. Because Twilight believed that beauty was subjective. That the important vector was the self. She believed everyone who believed they were beautiful by its definition, and it was a sad thing to have never felt beautiful yourself.
"It's like you said before, darling. A fashionista can be fiercely intelligent," Rarity wrapped her hooves around Twilight's neck and nuzzled her face against her cheek. She stared at Twilight's speechless reaction in the mirror with a tender smile, "But I prefer to say that a librarian can be stunningly beautiful."
How had Twilight ever thought Rarity's beauty was terrifying? She could barely remember now as she looked at herself near-reborn, as she looked at Rarity's expression and saw nothing but kindness and encouragement. She was beautiful for all the reasons she wasn't scary. How stupid of Twilight to not see it earlier.
"I... I," Twilight faltered, shamed still by the lump in her throat, "I guess you could do my makeup?"
"Really darling? Oh thank you so much!" Rarity giggled excitedly. Right then and there, Twilight loved her for that. For allowing her the pretence, even if both knew it false, that this was Twilight doing her a favour and not the other way round. Once again Rarity got to work, her deft and gentle touch tantamount to a massage rather than a makeover.
When Rarity stirred her again, though she was more beautiful still, Twilight didn't experience quite the same overpowering rush of emotion. It was contentment after the honeymoon now, no great shock but rather a blooming joy that lasted twice as long. She stared at herself long past the point of what she may have of once considered decent, transfixed by how Rarity had remade her.
"Thank you," she whispered.
"You're very welcome darling," Rarity replied, stroking her cheek with the back of her forehoof, "I'll meet you downstairs when you're ready. Be careful when you open the door though, some clumsy unicorn left a dress hanging up that you'd look amazing in! Oh the nerve of some ponies!"
Twilight giggled as Rarity left. She stayed there for a moment or two, still awestruck by how good Rarity had managed to make her look in less than half an hour. She resolved to make sure she got a picture of herself tonight. Seeing her all dolled-up, out enjoying herself with her friends would mean the world to her parents. To hell with it, she'd put on the dress too. Twilight spun around on the chair and, after a second's recognition, felt her excitement give away to something else.
The swirls and contortions of that awful confectionery display flashed through her mind, a horror that a beauty like Rarity shouldn't have even been able to fathom. She remembered those chalk drawings too, that had kept catching her eye at lunch yesterday. A sickening bastardisation of shape and space, insanity made art. She finally made the long overdue connection between them that her hungover mind hadn't managed earlier. It was hard not to as she stared at the enormous painting of it hanging on Rarity's wall.
There was a muted sense of satisfaction from having solved the mystery. The picture was clearly some local custom, something the citizens were familiar with. Why else would it reflect in Rarity's work, as well as be hung here and graffitied all around town? This was overshadowed, though, by her instinctive revulsion at the design. If there were any objective standards in art, this was surely an affront to them. Twilight walked over to the dress and began to slip it on. There was no reason she could offer for the way she felt watched by that picture. Her mind flashed to her hoof covered in chalk, to the taste of blood in her mouth. Her breathing felt shallow.
This wasn't how the night was supposed to go. There was to be no more fixation on these silly ideas of staring eyes and unheard whispers. She deserved a night off. Why couldn't she just have one night off? Why couldn't the looks stop? Why would the summer not end?
Why won't you stop doing this to yourself?
"Oh Twilight dearie," Rarity called from downstairs, "Would you mind popping down."
Twilight gave herself a once over in the mirror, noting mournfully the way her excitement had been stolen by the coiling monstrosity behind her, made worse by her knowledge there was no need to feel this way. Because Spike was right, there was nothing wrong with the town.
That's just a different way of saying the problem is you.
She dragged herself with legs that felt like jelly and began the march downstairs. When she got there Rarity was waiting for her with an excited smile devoid of any gentleness and warmth. It was calculating, near-predatory. It made Twilight think of Sunny Pastures.
"All ready?" she asked, the fake sweetness making Twilight feel like a child. She only nodded in response.
"Good! But just before we set off, can I show you something dear?"
"Sure." Twilight replied after a brief second's hesitation.
"Great," Rarity trilled, either not noticing or not caring about Twilight's sudden change in demeanour. Instead of producing anything to show, however, the seamstress simply took off out of the boutique, leaving an increasingly confused Twilight to follow. When she passed the threshold Twilight could see Rarity walking round the exterior of the boutique.
"Come Twilight, it's just round here." Her voice sounded like she might burst into laughter at any second. Twilight didn't feel like Rarity would be laughing with her. And it was so stupid to be concerned about what she was about to see. She had no reason to be concerned, and forced herself to march on with confidence. When Twilight caught up, Rarity was stood near the bushes by her house and was staring down at something.
"Now what do you think happened there, Twilight?" the voice was patronising, it was a tone you'd use to coax a foal to finish a maths problem. It shocked Twilight. The change in her own mood was at least explainable if irrational. Rarity's seemed utterly without reason. She looked to where Rarity was gesturing and found a flattened area of her bushes. Like someone had trampled it.
"I... I don't know Rarity." Twilight replied, cursing herself for failing to keep the shake out of her voice. A shake that baffled her for its needlessness.
It's not needless, you've already worked it out. You know what you did.
"Really? Now that is a curiosity dear. I thought you were the problem solver in our little group! Do you want to know what I think happened?" She didn't give Twilight a chance to respond before pressing on, "I think someone was outside here, hiding in my bushes! I know, it sounds positively scandalous! Such a lovely town and there's someone, dare I say, spying on me? Why I can't think of a single pony who would, and I know everyone who lives in Ponyville."
Twilight wanted to cry. She wanted to go back to the library. She never wanted to see the library again. Because she always remembered, aside from when she didn't, and the shame felt like it was enough to kill her. She still didn't remember her walk home, but she remembered her feelings of loneliness and resentment. The unshakeable suspicion that everyone else was out somewhere having fun, while she was left to chart unfriendly waters in her lifeboat. Springing leaks and cast adrift. Laughed at from the mainland.
There was precious little in the way of other explanation. She'd come here, she'd actually peered through the window, crouched in the bushes, spying on her friend, like a freak. And worse still, said friend had apparently noticed.
Just then, Twilight remembered her nightmares had been about music.
Rarity threw a hoof around her withers and pulled her in close, it could have even passed for friendly if not for the vice-like grip she maintained.
Celestia she's strong, how can she be so strong?
She babbled for a response before Rarity shushed her and started to stroke her cheek, the act all the more poisonous for its void of tenderness she'd shown before.
"Oh Twilight darling, I'm flattered you're so worried for me but I really don't think there's any need. Probably just some teenagers playing a prank. Even if it was somepony sticking their nose where it didn't belong I shouldn't expect they'd be back anytime soon. They were very lucky no-one saw, and I don't think that luck would extent to a second visit. After all this is a small town, a decent town... it's very hard to keep secrets."
The grip around her tightened just before the point of pain. Twilight's eyes found Rarity's, she didn't need to be a socialite to hear the warning in her voice, to see it in her glare. It only lasted a second before Rarity roughly let her go and Twilight had to work very hard not to stumble to the ground.
"Anyway darling, enough of all that dreadful business. It's already forgotten if you ask me. Shall we?" She didn't wait before trotting off into town, leaving Twilight to gather herself. There was such confidence to the way she walked. She never looked back once, like there wasn't a doubt in her mind that Twilight would follow her.
Twilight took one last look at the impression in the bushes, burning red with moist, sticky embarrassment. She could have wept for the shame. But more could she have wept in frustration for the life she desperately wanted and didn't know how to get, in resentment for the rotted lifeboat she dragged, or in grief for the loss of the simple tenderness of a makeover between friends.
Twilight scowled as she knocked back the drink. She sucked air over her teeth while the liquor burned. She wasn't one of those ponies who claimed to like the burn. Who likes the sensation of their throat being burned? No one did, obviously. Liars said they did.
"Woah there sugarcube, be careful there. Ya'll don't wanna end up with a sore head tomorrow!" Applejack chuckled, prompting Twilight to turn and glare at the group. Pinkie, Fluttershy and Rainbow were all peering over, wide-eyed and not bothering to contain their shock. Applejack, however, just looked mildly amused. Twilight wondered why for a second until she saw it, a white hoof on AJ's shoulder. Her eyes traced it and found Rarity, grinning at her through smoke-machine fog and pulsing strobes. The Twilight that met that gaze had a sore head and an intoxication she couldn't take, caught in the bushes like a child.
Twilight hated it here.
She gave a lopsided, insincere smile of acknowledgement before doing another shot.
"Sooooo..." Rainbow began, swivelling her body but keeping a concerned eye on Twilight, "Are you guys all gonna be there for the competition?"
Twilight let their conversation mingle in with the thumping bass until both were indistinguishable. When she had started walking over with Rarity after their little 'chat', she had been mortified with shame. But as the journey progressed and Rarity recounted boring, idle gossip about various Ponyville residents, she had started to wonder whether this was the correct response.
Fear for their friendship? That definitely seemed apt. Was Rarity actually threatening her? Her grip had been strong and her tone of voice very much that of someone who shouldn't be messed with. But still, unlikely. A much better explanation was that she was simply annoyed and telling Twilight to back off and stop skulking in her bushes, which was a fair request to make.
Regardless of what had the most deserved place, emotions were not rational actors. As such, Twilight stewed in what her heart had arrived at. Suspicion and anger.
She did not come to conclusions based on incomplete data sets, and so far all she had was Rarity showing her a trampled bush and claiming someone had been spying on her. But just because Twilight was minus one drunken memory, it did not inherently make that pony Twilight.
Rarity's reaction was some evidence in favour of the spy theory. But if Rarity had actually seen her, why wouldn't she just come out and say it? Why all the word games? Twilight knew that she would be worried for a friend who did such a thing, not angry at them.
Unless said friend had seen something she didn't want them to see. Something the whole town was keeping quiet on? Something that outsiders weren't welcome at. Not to say any of this was concrete, of course. Twilight preferred to consider it keeping her options open. And the option that kept shouting out was that Rarity was not above misleading and intimidating Twilight to keep her away from the trail.
It was also nicer to think that instead of herself as some creepy voyeur. But that didn't factor into her decision-making. She was a scholar, she knew how to be objective. It didn't even enter into it.
It didn't.
Maybe sadness had a place in all this, too. After all they had been through, whatever little secret this town apparently had still seemed to be an insurmountable obstacle to fully connecting with Rarity and settling into her new home.
What about Applejack? She too had lived here her entire life, would she have the same insular pushback against Twilight? Potentially.
This wasn't even mentioning the anger, and oh Celestia was there anger. They had all faced down the worst Equestria had to offer, and yet Rarity thought Twilight was so yellow to be frightened off by just a stern talking to outside her house. What made her more annoyed was the fact that it had basically worked for a minute there. But what made her the most annoyed of all was exactly what she'd been told outside Carousel Boutique. She was the problem solver, and she was utterly lost on this one.
What in Tartarus is going on?
They had left the Royal Cross after only one round of drinks and, just as she predicted, Rarity had successfully steered them towards an inarguably more exciting venue. The Salt-Lick. It was one of Ponyville's very few clubs. The only place one could go for a drink and a dance with friends without having to contend with the incessant warbling of mobile disco operators and beer-soaked carpet.
And yet, it was still piercingly loud. Too loud to hold an actual conversation. It was more like stolen screams through musical lulls to the point that all wit and nuance was drained, leaving only utilitarian grunting in an unbearably hot prison ponies pretended to like. Twilight chuckled bitterly to herself as she wondered whether she had just described The Salt-Lick or the whole of Ponyville itself.
So, she drank. Despite being consciously aware of how poor a coping mechanism this was, it was a lot easier to allow herself to withdraw into an intoxicated, sulk than to continue to despair. Better the alienation she decided on than the one they imposed, Twilight thought to herself.
"Oh darling, I can't imagine how happy you were when you got the conformation!"
And there was her voice again, the biggest mystery of all. Twilight turned and watched Rarity, taking some small pleasure in turning the tables on the observer for a change. She was listening to Rainbow excitedly chatter about getting the fateful letter that morning with what looked to be genuine interest. But more than interest, there was affection.
Twilight knew there had been affection as well when Rarity had made her look beautiful earlier. There had to be. She could change in a matter of seconds, but surely Twilight couldn't be so poor a judge of character that Rarity could have been lying this whole time? Sure Rarity couldn't be so good a liar for that? A pony that could fake such a thing would be a monster, and Twilight knew Rarity wasn't a monster. For a second, her eyes flicked to meet Twilight's. There was no surprise or questioning at being stared at. It was like she knew Twilight had been looking at her the whole time.
Who was she kidding? Of course Rarity had known.
Dominance in the situation fully wrestled back, the seamstress looked back to Rainbow. Her grin now imbued with cocksure smugness. And even now, with Twilight as angry as she was, the way Rarity moved was hypnotising. She really was grace given form. Rarity had described herself as smarter than she looked, and to many this was true.
Twilight had always assumed judging someone's intelligence by their appearance was a terrible thing, and had therefore assumed Rarity didn't like that ponies often underestimated her mind. Maybe she had been looking at it all wrong though, maybe Rarity didn't resent ponies treating her as some empty-headed socialite. Maybe she preferred it.
Because empty-headed socialites weren't capable of subterfuge, and idyllic little towns didn't have secrets they kept from outsiders. And Twilight knew she shouldn't still be drinking, but someone as analytical as her knew her own limits. She wasn't paralytic by any stretch. She was looser, less inhibited. This was what the rational part of her was scared of.
Because small towns couldn't possibly have any dirty secrets, it was ridiculous. And even if they did, scared little librarians couldn't possibly have the gall to uncover them regardless of the reactions she got. Not possible at all.
Twilight downed another shot. It was nicer to think of herself as being thrown off the trail instead of peering through windows, and it was nicer to think of herself as pushing against these efforts bravely instead of lonely and frustrated and desperate.
But as she knew, this didn't enter into it.
"So how's everyone's week been so far?" she exclaimed over the music. From the expressions her friends gave her, it was pretty obvious she'd just interrupted an ongoing discussion. But considering she'd spent the entire night in an antisocial funk it was also unlikely that any of them were going to shut down her first genuine offering of conversation. So each clearly made their peace with abandoning the previous topic and started to recount their assorted normal Ponyville weeks.
Fluttershy had been looking after her animals as usual. Rainbow had been tending to weather duty and practising her aerobatics as usual. Pinkie had been baking and planning parties as usual. Applejack had been working the farm as usual. Even at their relatively early stage of friendship, Twilight could have pretty much predicted their answers verbatim. But she wasn't really listening, instead she was focusing on Rarity, tracking the minutia of her facial expressions and soft vocalisations of humour, sympathy, surprise.
No one could be that good of a liar. It had to be real. But then, so had been the note of threat when she spoke to Twilight by the bushes earlier.
"It's very hard to keep secrets."
"How about you Rare?" Pinkie chirped.
"Pretty dull I'm afraid dear. I've had a large order in from some anonymous client in Canterlot. Between us and the wallpaper, I'm pretty sure the only reason they wanted to remain anonymous is so I couldn't warn any other designers how obscenely large their commissions are! So I've been slaving away into the night, just me, Opal and enough silk to cover the whole of the Everfree. We fashionistas truly lead glamourous lives."
The group chuckled affably at her story and superficial small-talk appeared poised to reclaim the night.
Do it.
"Were you really though?"
And of course the atmosphere of the club cooled, what else would she have expected at this point? But this time Twilight was ready, and she was drunk, and she didn't care anymore. So she kept going on despite Pinkie's and Fluttershy's look of mild surprise. Despite the tensing of Applejack's shoulders, despite the look of abject horror Rainbow shot at her. Despite Rarity's raising of one questioning eyebrow, the single thing closest to making her wilt.
"Last night I went for a walk and stopped in for a spell at the Royal Cross. Considering how boring it was tonight I'm sure you can all imagine how boring it was when it was basically just me in there!" Twilight laughed, but it didn't matter. All that mattered was that Rarity wasn't smiling anymore. She didn't look angry, mind, but she was clearly paying very close attention to what Twilight was saying. They all were paying quite close attention. Twilight felt the last vestiges of her rational mind, weakened by liquor and anger and fear and shame, begging her to not do this.
No use being sober now. Sober Twilight wouldn't do this, she'd keep us going back to Sunny Pastures every day for the rest of our lives. We will not let that happen. They want it to be them against you. They're not above playing dirty, so play dirty.
"But I couldn't help but notice that there was no-one around! And when I asked you what you were doing yesterday at lunch you seemed to react strangely. Like there was something I shouldn't know! So, were you really just working last night?" She cared little for her wide eyes, or the ill-proportioned stretch of her manic smile, or the way her strained laugh was devoid of any humour. The others could think what they would, this wasn't about them. If Rarity was alarmed by the brazen call-out, violating not only all laws of early friendship but also the insular moratorium on mentioning this Town's bizarre behaviour, she didn't show it.
"Sorry dear, nothing as exciting as that I'm afraid," she replied. The warning edge from before was absent with suspiciously little to replace it.
"Yeah Twi', Rare's from Ponyville. We don't play all them fancy Canterlot 'social games' with folk down here!" Applejack laughed. It didn't seem genuine, though. It was overly insistent. Twilight turned to her and shot a look that asked why she was intervening at all? Nothing was wrong, they were all just talking after all.
"Haha guilty! We definitely do that in Canterlot! So much it's made me a bit of an expert actually, and it really seemed like that was what was happening yesterday!" she bit back, faux-pleasantness lacing every word.
Prove me wrong. Prove that didn't happen. I dare you. I dare anyone to even try.
"So what was going on Rarity? I promise not to tell. Was it some secret fashion thing?" Twilight giggled, push it further, let it all out, make them know you see them all, "Or maybe some special Ponyville tradition?"
"Now hold on!" Applejack yelled, all-together too angry for what she should have thought was going on, "Rare said she didn't do anything of the sort. You can't go accusin' folks of lying' when-"
A single. raised white hoof cut her off, and Twilight wondered why she even stopped at all? To be so worked up then halt with a single gesture. It didn't seem right. Nothing seemed right.
"For the life of me darling, I really don't know what you mean." she looked down, demonstrably in no great rush to defend herself, and took a long sip of her cocktail. After a couple of seconds her eyes flicked up again, decidedly sharper than before, "I really didn't mean to give off the impression that I was hiding anything. Did it really seem like that? Are you sure?"
For one word could have so many interpretations, the linguist in Twilight would have sang. Was she sure that something was happening at the boutique? Of course she wasn't. She was intoxicated and desperate, and she was overplaying her hand. Bluffing with the suggestion of deeper knowledge. She was consciously aware of this even as her frantic mind raged against it's known constraints.
But, was she sure something strange was going on? Of course she was. She might not exactly be a social butterfly, but she wasn't lying before. One does not get raised in the country's centre of conversational sparring and civil subterfuge without getting a decent handle on the way it's all done.
There was only one question Rarity was actually asking. And it was because Twilight was upset, and she was drunk, and she was tired of being treated like she was the strange one in this town full of ponies forever dancing around smoke and mirrors, made insultingly blatant for how relentlessly boring Ponyville was in literally every other respect. The way they treated her with a distaste they made no attempt to hide, how they reminded her she was not a part of them even as she marched in step with their constant repetition and aversion to change. Swept with the tide as it's unwilling prisoner, lifeboat dashed on the rocks of the shore.
It was because of all these things that Twilight had forgotten that background noise is only conspicuous in absentia, and that for last few minutes she had heard Rarity perfectly.
The music was no longer the thumping, overblown par for the course at the salt-lick. It was a skeletal, minimalist beat. Hardly conducive to a fun night out, but that didn't matter. Because no one was dancing. Some were looking down at their drinks uncomfortably like Pinkie and Fluttershy. Most, however, were staring right at her. They wore the same expression Applejack had been for this conversation. Brow furrowed, eyes wide, like she had just accidentally stepped on a grave.
Rarity, as usual, was totally unique. She leant back, relaxing in her chair and drinking the last of her cocktail. Her expression assured, baiting, beautiful, terrifying. She didn't look like the tender-hearted, lovably dramatic seamstress Twilight thought she knew. She looked like a queen. The second she set the spent glass down it was scooped up and replaced with a full one.
Twilight looked around Rarity to see not one, but three dutiful waiters. Two pegasi, one red and one white, and a grey earth pony. All were staring at her, and suddenly she was terrified beyond her own ability to reason. She recognised the waiters, had one of them served her at lunch? There was something she knew without really knowing, and it was pleading with her to shut her mouth. Rarity took another sip, on no one's clock but her own, and let out a brazen gasp of dramatised refreshment. Twilight thought back to a few minutes prior, about the utter ridiculousness of her intoxicated self-confidence that a club-night accusation would be enough to blow the lid of whatever the hell this even was.
This assuming something was even happening. Everyone could clearly hear their conversation. They could be looking at a scene, not because of a conspiracy theory concocted by a mare swimming along the edges of madness. Maybe she really had spied on Rarity. Maybe they were all staring at the creepy voyeur as she drunkenly railed against her friends. Maybe a painting on Rarity's wall was just a painting. But surely it couldn't all just be her?
A raised eyebrow hadn't been quite enough to make Twilight wilt.
"So darling, are you sure?" Rarity asked again, her eyes merely one set in a sea.
Now Twilight wilted.
"Am I...? I... uh..." Twilight spluttered, hot sticky anxiousness flushing her face, no idea how to get out of this, panicking.
"Geez Twilight! How many of those have you had?!" Rainbow guffawed. Twilight turned to her, speechless. Rainbow laughed, and behind it she seemed to beg. Take the lifeline.
"I uh... I guess too many?" Twilight offered weakly, throat like dry paper.
"I'll say! I've forgotten my fair share of parties but I've never invented one before!" Dash laughed. It was slightly strained and lacked the certain je ne sais quoi of her normal laughter. If Twilight had noticed that, Rarity definitely would have.
Don't question it. Don't get in your own way. Laugh with her.
"Haha, wow am I really that off the mark?" Twilight exclaimed. Rarity said nothing and Twilight chose to take this as an answer in the affirmative, "Sorry Rarity, I guess I've really been letting my mind run away with me. All these strong drinks probably don't help."
"I don't think we have quite the same stringent licencing laws as they do in Canterlot dear," Rarity's measured reply came after a slight pause. Never would Twilight have thought there could be a situation where she'd be relieved to hear that interminable music start up again, but she could have cried with relief when the DJ reached the end of the current track and put something a bit higher energy on.
The night finally began to continue, and atmosphere eased. But it didn't recover fully. Fluttershy seemed to be avoiding conversation with Twilight, while Pinkie excused herself to head home and get an early night which was possibly the most conspicuously out of character thing she could have done. Rarity kept herself busy chatting with Rainbow, and the two appeared to be getting on perfectly well.
Applejack was listening to, but not partaking in, their conversation. No, she was clearly watching Twilight closely since her eyes flicked back to Rarity and Dash every time Twilight looked at her. Dear Celestia, she really was atrocious at lying. It was almost insulting actually. But, of course, it made sense, Twilight had just had an embarrassing outburst. Who wouldn't stare? Who wouldn't peer from their windows and whisper of this was what she was?
"I'm just gonna go the little fillies' room," Twilight announced, affecting a pronounced slur in the hopes that appearing more drunk than she was might ease some troubled waters. After all, who could be mad at the harmless, sloshed mess? She pushed herself up, finding the 'act' of being drunk was coming too easy to be as put-on as she'd initially intended. Who cared though? The effect was the same, and she was not interested in method over result at this point.
She pushed through throngs of ponies, back to their dancing, and felt more alone than ever. The musk of bodies writhing and stewing in sweat was near-primal. All the while would the dancers pause and watch the islander as she pushed further into the heart of darkness. Near the edge of the dance floor, a stallion had his lips buried in the crook of his mate's neck. The two of them shone, but it wasn't a glow. No, this was an oily sheen of perspiration. He pulled back, and the other stallion opened his eyes and they gazed at one another.
The larger of the two licked his lips, his cocksure grin and teasing eyes swam with amusement at the light blush decorating his partner's face. But while he blushed, the smaller seemed like his embarrassment was somewhat put-on. It was a good story in the service of greater flirtation, and who could blame him? Why not invent a more engaging story than limit yourself to the sad truth? The truth that your partner no longer gets your heart pumping, or the truth that there was no great conspiracy and these villagers just hated Twilight?
Twilight could certainly sympathise, she loved a good story.
Then they turned to Twilight, and that depth of feeling was instantly replaced by a blankness, tinged with slight xenophobic revulsion. But she saw it less in the smaller stallion. Though he clung onto his mate for dear life, there was something approaching sympathy in his eyes. A yearning perhaps to even reach out? And Twilight took it in, with the faint registration of his wings. Born and raised in Cloudsdale probably, so far away from here.
She wondered if he struggled like she was struggling when he first came here. If she asked him would he tell her that they all eventually let you in on the secret? Or would he tell her that there was no big reveal, rather the slow acceptance that's just how this place was? Would he caution her to find something to cling to here, that the mainland was in fact just a different kind of sea? Twilight's best guess was that he'd tell her that after months of creeping anxiety and boredom and fear, it'd only taken the last couple of days to ramp everything up and finally snap her in two.
Their embrace tightened, and the sympathy vanished. A less composed, braver mare would have shoved past them on the way to the toilets, but that side of Twilight had learned her lesson. She simply slunk by with her head bowed. A great story indeed it would have made, to proudly show them all she was unbowed. But what were the point of stories for an audience who didn't listen, or by an author who didn't know where the fiction even began anymore?