I appeared home at noon and I was in quite the state, let me declare, with heart all an exploding within my chest and my hands shaking a little too much to text without littering the message with spelling errors. And illiteracy, let me remind you, is not ladylike.
And no matter what Twilight Sparkle might insist, I am a lady.
I’ve merely been having a difficult week, that’s all. One could deem it a murderous week and they would not be wrong in the slightest. Come to think of it, it honestly is about time I return home and set a few things – namely my appearance – back in order. And judging from my rather frazzled reflection in the taxi’s drop-down mirror, I really ought to get right on that sooner rather than later.
Lyra still requires seduction, after all.
Sunny still needs pacification too.
And that small matter of arranging a meeting with my equine self also must happen as well. Although that can definitely be worried about tomorrow – no need for biting off any more than I can chew. My mouth is rather full as is and Sunset is a dreadful person.
“This is the place, Rarity?” asked the driver, a former classmate of mine, actually – she dropped out last year to holiday in Cambodia, of all corners of the world.
“I nodded. Yes, this is indeed my… aunt’s house. Yes, Aunt Snap Shatter, the photographer,” I lied, looking over the forgettable town house with its red brick and chalk stucco façade, unripe banana green lawn, white picket fence – all undistinguished from the surrounding houses save for the flock of lurid plastic flamingos congregating around the birdbath in the front yard.
By Chanel, I despise this place with every thread of my person.
Watermelody scratched her neck. “Could’ve sworn she… lived across town. Isn’t that right, Rarity? I must have driven Scootaloo there before, I think.”
“I haven’t the faintest, Darling. More than likely you ferried my ingrate cousin to some other relative’s abode. You know how they are with her. Free range in the extreme and all. At the rate she’s progressing, she might even shave her head and join ANTIFA. Anyhow, it has been quite the pleasant reunion but I honestly must get going. A lady simply cannot be late.”
“Fair enough. We could use the help. Cool seeing you again too,” the woman said, unlocking the door of her hatchback car. I started out, taking the carry-on I’d appropriated from Fleur.
“As to you, farewell.”
“Actually, wait. Can I ask a favour?”
Good grief. What now?
You’ve blabbered at me for the entire hour I’ve been imprisoned in this dreadful vehicle at the banality of modern theatre, the corruption of the elites, and the dismal standards of contemporary character design in Japanese animation. Any more of that and… well, I haven’t the faintest what I’ll do, but so help or I will do it to you, you red-bereted communistic fujoshi!
I turned to her, putting on a smile. “Yes, Darling?”
Watermelody grimaced a little. “Are you okay, actually? I mean, you don’t look to… okayish right now. I can ask later.”
“Nonsense. I am perfect, Darling. What is it again?”
She took off her beret, cradling it in her hands. The bead on top of it was hanging by a single crimson thread. “Well, like, I got this back in SA at an EFF political rally there and I’ve had it for a few years and, like, it is falling apart now. You couldn’t fix it, could you?”
I stared at the beret. Then I stared at Watermelody, who sat bashfully in the driver’s seat, a nervous grin on her face and her cheeks puffed slightly from holding her breath in from the anticipation.
I sighed. As did she. “Another time, Darling. I have a terrible amount of work on my plate right now. Perhaps in a week or so, ah?”
Her shoulders collapsed. “Okay. Thanks, Rarity. You’re a lifesaver.”
And you’re a hypocritical moron who can’t sew a button.
“You’re welcome, Darling. Now I really must get on my way,” I said, shutting the door and starting down the cobble path to the front door. There was a doormat in front of it, in the stylized shape of a cat’s head. “Meowcome Home!” it said.
It’s a miracle I can honestly muster any sort of air and or grace at all having been raised in this soul-smashing suburban wasteland. Still, it was home and at least my room was tolerable. Clenching my hand into a fist, I knocked – the doorbell had been broken for years, ever since my incapable sister attempt to rewire it for a scout badge.
The resulting shock landed my mother in hospital and stuck my father there as well shortly afterwards via heart attack. Needless to say, Sweetie Belle was distraught. Obviously, I was rather relieved to have an opportunity to visit Uncle Allgood and listen to one or two tales of the adventurous life he and his spouse enjoyed trotting the literal globe in search of, well, adventure. Until, that was, I discovered the identity of their daughter and was kept up all night by her and my own sister gossiping, plotting, and generally being mischievous nuisances.
But that all was in the past and, after the eighth knock, the door opened to reveal my father, standing there in all his unpresentable glory in cargo shorts and a Hawaiian shirt two sizes two small and two decades too old.
His face broke into a smile. “Hey! You didn’t tell me you were coming to visit!” he cheered, crushing me in a bear hug.
I begrudgingly reciprocated. “Well, I do live here, after all, Father.”
He put me down and welcomed me inside the house, nodding. “Yeah, I know that. But that was some holiday you took. Gone for, what, three days and a bit?”
“Indeed, it was quite memorable,” I said, as we walking over to the kitchen. Having drunk nothing but coffee and suffering from quite the hangover, I needed a drink. Being an alcoholic, so did he.
“Must’ve been. How’s Twilight these days, anyhow? You know, I ran into her… uh… her sister, yeah. Her sister. Ran into her at the hospital actually. You do know about that, right?”
My blood went cold and it certainly was not from the chilled bottle of Bulldog Gin I’d just removed from the freezer either. In fact, that I nearly dropped, fumbling it into a catch at the last second.
“Ah,” I said, “So you met Cadance?”
“That’s right. But…” My father looked to the side, back into the living room, where a half-time commercial blared on the widescreen television and through the surround-sound speakers.
“But?” I asked, now setting about the process of extracting two cans of tonic water from the fridge.
“Nah. I’m sure it was nothing. She was probably talking out of her arse,” then he gulped, “But you do about who’s in hospital… right?”
“I presume you refer to Indigo Zap?”
He nodded, relieved. I mixed two gin-and-tonics and handed one to him. Hondo sipped it. Reclining on a kitchen stool beside the counter, I did as well. Truly, they are a refreshing beverage.
What a shame it is that this trend of adding useless herbs and accoutrements to them is what it is. Honestly, fiddling about with such things as slices of tangerines, cherry sprigs, raspberry infusions, and the like just ruins the taste of the gin.
One drinks alcohol to get drunk tipsy, not as an excuse to drink a fruit smoothie mid-afternoon.
But I digress.
Hondo nodded again after a gulp of the cocktail. “Yeah. Poor thing got herself shot. I’m sure the nurse told you as well.”
“Yes, of course, that she has a week to live, at most?” I lied. My father’s glass slipped from his hand and cracked against the marble countertop. I continued, “Terribly unfortunate, I am well aware. She had so much potential. She could’ve become, oh I don’t know, a stripper, like Derpy or Sugarcoat’s mother.”
“Not… that is not what I was told.”
“Oh, calm down, Father. I’m messing with you,” I giggled. “She’ll be right as rain in no time at all. Myself, I visited her yesterday actually.”
And pardon my French but she’d make for a rather poor stripper, given her lack of womanly charms and, for that matter, womanly assets. Still, one cannot account for taste given the number of boyfriends she’s enjoyed.
And my father sighed with relief, smiling faintly. “Don’t do that, Kiddo. You nearly gave me another heart attack.”
“Devouring hot wings will give you that as well, but I don’t see you cutting off your trips to Hooters anytime soon.”
“Nah. That’ll give you gout, not heart disease.”
That wretched place will give you a venereal disease too, if you aren’t careful, you obese buffoon.
“I suppose you would know best,” I said, “And it has been nice catching up,” I said, finishing my beverage, “but really ought to go and freshen up just a little.”
He burped, rubbing his stomach. “You do that. Game’s back on anyhow,” he said, turning and waddling off back to his couch, drink in hand.
I turned as well, made myself another, and then headed off upstairs, to my room. Calls still needed to be made, after all, and I did not at all expect Sunset to exactly go about calling me herself – not if Twilight decided to keep her promises, anyhow.
Lyra and Sunny might though but I only had a desire to talk to one of those people and certainly doubt I was going to be putting my best foot forward having either of those conversations today.
Instead, I simply went through the motions of getting properly acquainted back into my relatively disappointing little sanctum. Compared to Sunny’s own workshop, mine was a veritable broom closet and, compared to her bedroom, the whole closet analogy still suffices. The room was uncomfortably cramped, with a single bed pushed into one corner and bolts of cloth stacked high in the other. Wardrobes lined one wall and posters of models lined the other. Beneath them stood mannequins garbed in outfits, some of which were good and some of which I intended to donate to the less fortunate – them being considered as such because they didn’t get to wear the good outfits.
To my pleasant surprise, there was a solitary bottle-green beer standing atop my desk, specifically atop a step of overdue book reports and textbooks. Inspecting the label, I found it was a Windhoek Lager. What a pleasant surprise indeed – they’re my favourite. Apparently, Sweetie Belle is good for something past a live mannequin after all; perhaps I ought to reconsider my refusal to sew her Junior Prom dress? She could make a good minion, actually.
I’ll save it for later though. I’ve got a drink already and nothing is tackier than holding two of your own at once.
Instead I busied myself with slipping out of the suit I’d stolen and back into something more comfortable – my usual school attire of a relaxed white cotton blouse and a purple skirt, amethyst mind you not aubergine, would suffice. Then I braced myself for the relatively daunting task of redoing my makeup, my hair, my nails and all the other necessary aspects of herself a lady simply must keep in order lest she be seen as just another member of the hoi polloi.
That chore is considered daunting because, as much as I enjoy being lethally gorgeous, I really struggle to conjure the patience to bugger about with curlers.
And, halfway through untangling a knot in my hair, my phone decided to ring. To my relief, it did not ring the girlfriend chime either. It rang, quite simply, the tune I had ascribed to my bandmates – those who, along with myself, were unfortunate enough to be saddled with world-saving responsibilities and only the most niche of magical powers to go along with them.
Sighing, I returned the brush to its rightful place on the cabinet beneath the mirror, between the comb and the eye pencil, and went to fish my phone out the pocket of the blazer I’d left it in. Hideously butch, I know, but Twilight took her handbag back and, come to think of it, she still had the one I’d left home with a few days ago as well.
No matter, I had others.
I inspected the phone. Across the cracked screen, Fluttershy was calling. It could be better, I suppose. But, come to think of it, it could also be far, far worse.
“Hello, Darling,” I answered, “To what do I owe the pleasure.”
“Hey, Rarity. Nice to see you too.” went the mumbled reply.
“And how might you be doing, my dear?”
“No, I’m okay. I was just calling to see if you were still up to go to the spa this afternoon.”
“Oh! What a wonderful surprise!”
Really, it was.
“We’ve had it planned for the last two weeks, actually.”
Apparently.
“So, we have. And yes, I would simply adore a visit today. Truly, I have had the most wretched week. Simply murderous, I must say. A proper pampering is honestly overdue.”
I still cannot get the smell of blood out of my nose.
“I see. Well, I’m really sorry to tell you but I don’t think I can make it… if that’s okay with you. You see, somebody rescued this cat from an apartment last week and…” Fluttershy stopped to sniff a little – seriously, over a cat, “well, Mr Tony Mewk is very fragile and he really needs a lot of emotional support right now. He’s so worried that his owner won’t be coming home and I am too. I don’t think he’s been fed in days and I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to him under my watch.”
“A true tragedy,” I sighed, “My heart honestly goes out to those poor animals. Really, it is such important work you do, Darling,” I said, lying through my teeth.
“Thanks, Rarity. So, its okay if I miss the spa day, right? Please?”
“I suppose, if you must. It isn’t ideal, but I can manage it without you,” I said, slipping the phone between my ear and shoulder and getting back to brushing the slip ends out of my hair.
“Okay. Thanks. Well, I mean, I made the reservation in advance and I can’t really change it now so… I mean, if you want to invite somebody else along, that’d be alright too. I wouldn’t want you to be lonely, Rarity,” Fluttershy said.
Feeling a plan coming on, I paused with the brush still halfway through a lock of hair.
“Let me think about it, Darling. I might just have the right lady for that escapade in mind already.”
“Alright, Rarity. We’ve still got a few hours before the appointment anyway. Oh, and Lyra tells me to say “hi” from her as well. She wants to thank you for the wonderful advice you gave her.”
“Ah. I had forgotten about that. Tell her she’s more than welcome to it, Darling. She is, after all, one of my very best friends,” I said, before hanging up the phone.
Yes. Finally. I had a plan. And it was a most excellent plan as well, full of clever tricks and wholesome manipulations. For their own good, of course.
Their good being, ideally, my good.
Alas, it was not complete. Not yet, anyhow. In fact, it may be wiser to say that I possessed two plans, both of equal practicality. The first was to apologize again to Sunny and attempt to put that whole affair, literally the affair, back together with a conciliatory spa date and, possibly, convince her into a meal afterwards. Doing so would solve my monetary issues, namely the lack of money which I have to spend, and would also let me sort out that kaftan before Cheerilee came to investigate its lack of existence.
However, it has occurred to me – multiple times in fact, I now recall – that further pursuing a relationship with her would likely result in me having to put up with her rather… possessive, needy and vapid personality, as well as being obliged to tolerate her degenerate parents from time to time.
And I do not particularly want to be reminded of a broken wrist every time I look at my lover, not even if she offers a whole vineyard of vintages for me to savour and a whole dashing boutique of dresses for me to don. Not when they come at the respective costs of being owned by her mother, who will likely want them back undrunk at some point, and being made by Sunny herself, and therefore ugly. And certainly not will I date her when she reminds me a little too much of my own sister, the way she obsesses over soulless media and cash-grab entertainment.
I’ve already said it once and I will likely say it again. If my little tiff with Vignette Valencia has taught me anything, its that there is certainly a thing as too much media and it about occurs when you sit down to write fanfiction about your favourite characters.
Truly, I pity the people who do that. Well, I am mentally incapable of pitying anything, really, virgin or otherwise but I would probably do so if I could.
So few do.
Now that whole explanation leads me to the second plan; a plan that is great deal naughtier. But I like naughty things. I certainly do, given a penchant for cake, lingerie, and grand theft auto – the crime, that is, not the video game. Dreadful waste of time, that one. It could not be more lowbrow if it nailed its forehead to a mineshaft.
Anyhow, the plan. It is a simple plan, despite its risks and it is as follows: I let Sunny stew in her own juices and simply inform Fleur that her girlfriend’s a slut. And I also ask Lyra to go out with me. Simple, yes? Shut up one girlfriend and replace her with another.
A bit like shoes, really, come to think of it. Or maybe handbags would be the more fitting comparison.
Yes, that’s what I’ll do. In fact, I have just the idea of how to do it.
It would, however, require another change of clothes – from chic to downright disposable. Because there is no way in Tartarus that I am enjoying ever the high life in jeans that stink incurably of kittens, stupidly-named and orphaned or otherwise.
Only the most minimal amount of convincing was required for my thoroughly distracted, and now quite thoroughly drunk, father to let me borrow his own car. I arrived, dressed in an old summer camp t-shirt, blue Demin jacket and black jeans at the Canterlot City SPCA about half an hour later.
The building itself hits one like a car, honestly. A fast one, speeding downtown with sirens a-blaring and lights all a-flashing. The smell and the noise of it collides with one just like a police cruiser collides with corpse-to-be of idiot pickup artist. It’s a brutalist nightmare hollowed out into a collection of disjointed rooms and courtyards of unwanted animals. Come to the time of the last recession, Fluttershy’s parents and a few other local philanthropists transformed it into a shelter for the local ferals, strays, and other assorted misplaced fauna.
Gritting my teeth, I tightened my jacket and steeled my nerves as best I could given a diet of pastries and hard liquor. Come on now, Rarity, it’s only a pack of starved beast clamouring to sink their rabid fangs and diseased claws into your vitals; you’ve handled tougher.
I know, I have – but magical villains with a penchant for demonic transformations and or brainwashing give off a very different type of unease to that which… filthy animals do. It is not that I dislike them, it is that they dislike me.
I didn’t kill my own cat once merely because I was bored. I executed that wretched creature because she kept carving up my legs every time I walked past her. If anything, it was self-defence.
But, to my relief, Fluttershy encountered me only about a minute after I sashayed into that place’s foyer, wondering whether to hold my nose or plug my ears.
The girl was dressed charmingly – unintuitively, almost, in a long chino skirt and a patched grey cardigan. And now that, which not unexpected ala a certain Iberian secret police, is also a minor disappointment to me for such clothes belong on a less voluptuous individual. Those beautiful enough sans clothing ought to wear clothing to tantalize – only the ugly need be modest. Did I mention that I cut my shirt into a crop top? No? Well, I did precisely to prove that point.
I waved at Fluttershy upon spotting her. “Ah, Darling!” I said, “There you are.”
Fluttershy turned on a dime to face me and smiled bashfully, waving back as she did. “Oh, hello Rarity. No offense, but I didn’t expect to see you here. I thought you said you were allergic to dogs?”
“Only a touch, Darling,” I said, feigning a cough, “but your story about the kitten was simply so touching that I couldn’t help by the poor dear a visit. Ah, what was the poor dear’s name?”
“Mr Tony Mewk. Like the pro skater, if he was a cat.”
“What a name that is. And have you had any luck on trying to discern the identity of his owner?”
“Oh!” she perked up a full foot from her usual hunch – unforgivable given how short she already is – “Yes! I just finished that now. I was going to get him some salmon as a reward for being so brave,” and then her face darkened, “but his owner isn’t answering his phone.”
“What a shame in indeed. How bothersome that can be,” I said, recalling the barrage of text Sunny had finally got around to assaulting me with come my taxi ride home. I am very thankful that my phone, as outdated as it is, possesses a mute option.
Fluttershy proceeded to point down the hall, at the sign labelled with the decal of a pair of cats. “He’s down there if you want to pay a visit. And do please excuse me, but I really have to get that salmon now. The bears need feeding too.”
“You ah have ah … bears… here? Oh my. What’s next, lions and tigers?” I gulped.
“Only nice ones,” Fluttershy grinned evilly, “and even that depends on whether or not you count cougars as lions. Well, they are technically mountain lions but they’re of a different genus completely otherwise. They can’t even roar, the poor things.”
“Lovely… Darling. Truly great. I trust you keep them well out of harm’s way in a different enclosure to the other cats?”
“But of course,” said Fluttershy, “they aren’t good with people, being wild and all.”
“Excellent.” I sighed in relief. “Let me head off then. No need to keep you when you’re doing such important work.”
Fluttershy blushed, half hiding her face behind her face. “Its nothing really,” she mumbled – correctly – “and you do such good stuff too, Rarity. Really, I should pay more for my dresses.”
I brushed her off with a wave of my hand, “Darling, if you start doing that, I may have to compensate my end of our spa trips. No, our current relationship works beautifully.”
“Oh. Before you go, Rarity,” Fluttershy asked, “You were at that Crystal Prep party a few days ago, right?”
“Yes, I paid a visit. A brief visit though. Really, such soirees are a little too… underclass for my tastes. Pinkie was there though. I ran into her. Somebody ought to stage an intervention honestly.”
“AJ and I are working on that already. But that’s not what I was wondering. You see, Sugarcoat usually comes by today to feed the dogs but nobody’s heard from her since the night of that party. You didn’t see her… around, did you?”
I placed a hand over my heart and put on my best moderately offended face. “You aren’t implying something, are you?”
Fluttershy shrank back, flashing her palms up and shrinking a little. “Oh no! Not at all! You wouldn’t hurt a fly, Rarity… I mean, I was just wondering if you’d bumped into her at all.”
“Well, I cannot say that I have. I do hope she turns up though,” I lied.
“Yes. Me too. Two people going missing in one week. That’s terrifying. If I didn’t have you and all the other girls, I don’t think I’d be brave enough to leave the house.”
“Indeed, Darling. Its simply murderous. I cannot exactly relax either. All this stress is putting such a hamper on my work. But I do suppose that’s the price one pays to live in the city. One must share the air with oh, thieves, frauds, murderers. Dreadful. Simply dreadful.”
Fluttershy nodded, sighing. “Dreadful.”
A bear roared.
I tried not to flinch.
“Again, I’m so sorry about having to miss our day out, Rarity.”
I smiled. “It is honestly alright, Darling. Now let me go and investigate this cat, shall I? Hopefully his owner does turn up.”
With that, I turned and started off to see this cat. Honestly, I had no desire to actually interact with that beast but I had said I would and, besides, Lyra might just run into me doing so and starting conversations while being seen as a beacon of benevolence is such a useful trick it’s a wonder I don’t use it more.
Oh, yes. I don’t use it more because helping people does not, in fact, make me feel good whatsoever; all charity does is tire me.
Arriving at the door with the cat sign beside it, I noted the instructions on the sign below it, which did not in fact have a decal of a cat upon it. Instead it had a brief explanation of how the doors worked – they did so by there being two of them, similar to an airlock or, rather, a “catlock”. One entered the little cubicle first, shut the door behind them and then only did they open the second door and step into the enclosures proper. If performed correctly, the little ritual would prevent the mucky beasts from escaping and running free within the shelter at large.
Obviously, I did as per the request of the sign. No reason in causing any more chaos this week, especially given my poor track record with animals in general. And, just as it did when I had arrived at this foul place, that animalistic stench walloped the breath from my lungs.
Cats were everywhere, unsurprisingly. Every available surface in the little courtyard was occupied by a sprawled-out feline of some or other breed. Persians, Siameses, Bengals – every breed I knew of was represented in some or other abandoned form, be it curled in a ray of sun, asleep atop a tree branch, or toying idly with a rubber ball. Of course, the various affects of mongrels were present as well, overwhelmingly so, but I am a patrician – I would never own such a proletarian animal as a moggy, no matter its disposition or its genetic stability or anything else the late Sugarcoat may claim it possesses.
Only then, as the beasts began to run for cover or puff up and hiss at me, did I realize that I hadn’t the faintest clue as to what Mr Tony Mewk actually looked like at all. For everything I knew – very little when it came to cats – he could be that orange one in the cage or the brown one up the tree or the hairless one in the ridiculous coat and beanie; you get the gist of it.
I was stumped more than a deforested slice of the rainforest.
And there was no way in this earth that I was ever going to track down Fluttershy and ask her which kitten I was supposed to comfort. Firstly, that would make me look stupid – which I most definitely am not. Secondly, that would mean an encounter with a bear – and I doubt greatly that my pink-haired friend means to refer to large and hairy homosexual men. But, come to think of it, that is also a demographic I prefer to have refreshingly little to do with.
I was just about to head off to track down and, hopefully, seduce Lyra when I walked smack into her.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going,” yelled the green-skinned woman.
Looking up, I noticed that the woman was certainly not Lyra. In fact, apart from the complexion, the two could not be more different. While the girl whose pants I was trying to get into, pardon of course the French, was quite petite and a platinum blonde, this Amazon of a person, this man of a woman, had a shock of ginger hair and a filthy glare on her furious face. As well, she was dressed in a tracksuit and jeans as opposed to Lyra’s usual skirt and blouse.
This somebody was Lightning Dust.
“Wait, Rarity?” the racecar driver asked.
“Yes. That is I. Terribly sorry for bumping into you and all but I really must get going,” I said, trying to slip past her and tripping over a cat.
And, to my utter shock and horror, I fell face-first into a puddle of its… excrement.
Gah!
Shit!
Lightning helped me up. We used to be friends, after all. In that mentor-mentee way teenagers are friends with delinquent preteens anyhow. But then I changed for the stylish and she and her sister, Indigo Zap, stayed quite the same. Only now they are actually rather competent at their respective pursuits, as I am at mine.
I brushed what filth I could off my top. I knew dressing disposably would come in handy. To her credit, Lightning rummaged out a receipt for something or other and wiped away a decent amount of it with that too.
Only then, after I had gotten myself clean again, did either of us notice that she had left the doors open. Which doors, you – me – ask? Both of them. The catlock was rendered void and a steady trickle of felines began to run like a furry river past us and out of it.
She looked at me. I looked at her.
“Fuck,” we both said.
Hissing in a breath, she rubbed the back of her neck. “Like, okay, Rares. It’s like old times. We were never here.”
“Agreed,” I responded, dabbing again at the grime on my shirt. And I had intended to seduce somebody in this outfit. How annoying indeed.
“Also, you seen a cat called Mr Tony Mewk anywhere?” she asked.
“Ah. I cannot say that I have, no. Is he yours?”
“Nah,” Lightning shook her head, before shutting the door to the enclosure before any more cats escaped. “He’s my bro’s cat. You know Shamrock, right?”
“Vaguely. I haven’t seen him in what, ah, five years?”
“That’d be about right, yeah. He got nabbed for smoking weed back when it was illegal. Spent a few in juvie. Got out last year, said he was going clean. Bought a cat. Took up skateboarding. You know, stuff,” she shrugged, “now he’s who-fucking-knows-where and his damn cat need feeding.”
“Huh. Well. That is rather unfortunate indeed,” I replied.
“Yeah. Waste of my damn time, honestly. I miss that shitty race, my sister gets a bullet and my brother goes missing. What a fucking week, huh Rares?”
“I could not agree more.”
“Yeah. Wouldn’t, like, be surprised if Mom gets shot down over Jubba now. Or like, if Dad gets mugged in the street. Ruin the whole family’s week, you know?”
“I suppose so,” I said, pretending to look around for the prodigal pet.
“That’s the truth. Say, I ever show you the new tat I got?” Lightning said, unzipping her jacket to expose a clumsy tattoo of a paper doll on her bicep.
“Ah. How… noveau.”
She grinned. Her teeth were chipped, no doubt from fights. She did have a penchant for those, back when we were friends. After overhearing from Sunny that she was arrested, apparently, she still does. But where have I seen that tattoo before?
“Glad you like it. I’d kick your ass if you dissed it, Rares. We each got one in Durban last vacation. Cruise stopped there and we each thought, like, why not? Be a bonding thing. Me, bro, and sis. Got one on our rides too. Fucking sucks that they impounded my car though. Those Indiana jackasses. Waste of a state, to be honest. If ever get back there again, I’m gonna shank the governer,” she grumbled.
“Totally, Darling. Now, if you must excuse me, I really must get going. I’d just planned a small visit to… ah… lend Sugarcoat a hand with something. Can’t stay to long, I have a date to keep.”
Lightning chuckled and the sound was like gravel being ran through a blender. “Why didn’t you say so?”
Because it’s none of your business.
“Anyway,” she continued, “you can’t date her. You can’t no one covered in cat shit.”
“Ah, yes,” I looked down at my shirt. Once it was white. No longer was that entirely the case.
She handed me her tracksuit jacket. It had her initials monogrammed onto it, and the logo of her sponsor on the back. “Take it,” she said, pushing the garment into my hands. “Least then you don’t gotta walk around topless or coated in scat. I got more anyway.”
I accepted it, slipping it over my own jacket. Once belonging to quite a large woman, the tracksuit drooped off me by quite a significant margin like some Ossetin cultural robe. Still, better than the alternatives.
“Thank you ever so much, Darling. Lovely to see you again,” I said, turned and heading out the enclosure while Lightning continued to track down the cat.
Only then, once outside and headed towards where Lyra stood on the sidewalk awaiting a lift, did it occur to me that I killed Lightning Dust’s brother. Oh. Well then.
Bother.
As cordial as she may be while, well, cordial, Lightning Dust possesses fuse shorter than a male tomcat’s reproductive apparatus in winter and a temper icy enough shrivel that tiny thing and have it drop off. She is honestly not a person I particularly want to antagonize – especially not when doing so may very well result in my death or, worse yet, my disfigurement.
What have I gotten myself into?
Really, what have I gotten myself into?
I felt like a dead woman walking. My heart boomed like a dubstep album beneath my ruined shirt and my hands shook like a they’d never been warm at all under the sagging sleeves of the tracksuit jacket of the woman who might actually try to kill me one of these days. Good grief. I was a mess.
At least there was Lyra, waiting outside in the parking lot, oddly enough.
“Yo. Rarity,” Lyra said, smiling at me before her smile faded away into a worried frown, “Are you doing alright there?”
“Ah. Yes. Lyra. Just the person I wanted to see, in fact. How are you doing? I do hope that little affair with Bon-Bon is getting dealt with?” I replied.
She shrugged. “Eh. I guess its okay? I mean, she’s being, like, a gigantic bitch so we’re gonna kick her out the band. Harsh, I know but, like, Lemon figured it’d be easier to find a new pianist than a new harpist anyway.”
“Well then. Sacrifices must be made, I suppose.”
“Yeah. Sucks that it ends this way. We had a lot of fun but, well, I guess you just drift apart.”
Recalling my encounter with Lightning Dust not minutes before, I nodded. “Yes. Certainly. People do indeed. And, sometimes, they drift together. Would you imagine that?”
“I wouldn’t say you’re wrong,” Lyra said, checking her watch before muttering, “Damn, where is this damn driver?”
“Waiting for somebody, Darling?” I asked, sidling up to her as close as I dared given my rather… unfortunate attire.
“Yeah, I called an Uber a few minutes ago. I mean, I can’t drive and it’s not like Bon-Bon would give me a lift anymore so… yeah. Gotta get to rehearsals somehow.”
“Rehearsals.”
“That’s what I said,” Lyra noted, reclining against the wall, elbows bent backwards around her head.
“Indeed. Right now. Today.”
“Happens every week, same time. Gotta stay in practice, you know. Especially since Vinyl snagged us that tour deal. We’re opening for Nightwish. How cool is that, Rares? Nightwish.”
“Oh my, I have a quite a few of their albums indeed. That is truly and utterly remarkable.”
“Thank you,” she said, offering a fist bump. I took it.
“Ah. So. You’re going to rehearse right now.”
“Well, as soon as Discord gets his ass over here, yes,” Lyra nodded, before checking her phone and frowning at it.
“Oh,” I sighed, “That’s not ideal.”
Far from ideal.
“Why’s that? Were you planning something?”
“Plan might not be the right word for it,” I lied, “more so a happy coincidence. You see, Fluttershy and I have a certain… tradition of taking an hour or two out of our respective lives to enjoy a bit of pampering at the local spa about once a fortnight. But, you see, she’s having to care for that poor orphaned kitten now and take up Sugarcoat’s duties and thus has left me, well, here. And since I thought that you and I are such good friends, best friends, basically, I might extend an invitation to you instead.”
“Aw geez, Rares. That’s awesome! Thanks,” she said, brushing watermelon pink and tugging me into a hug. I reciprocated but do go about extricating myself just before the smell got to her though.
“So, what say you, Darling? Shall we go and… enjoy an afternoon out, ah?” I smiled, winking at the word enjoy.
Lyra grit her teeth, frowning nervously. “Uh. Yeah. You see, I’m super flattered, don’t get me wrong at all, but no isn’t, like, the best time. I got the rehearsal, remember?”
“Oh, Darling, that’s just one rehearsal. I’m sure the rest of Heavy Metal Ümlat won’t miss you. That much, anyhow. You are, after all, quite the prodigy at the harp.”
“Well, thanks but I really cannot miss this one. Octavia made it pretty clear that it was either me or Bon-Bon and, well, I don’t want it to be. Like, have you seen Venice? We could play in the Doge’s Palace! So, like, yeah. I’m sorry, Rarity but I can’t afford to skip this,” Lyra said.
“Ah. Well, I understand, Darling. Obligations and all.”
“Yeah. Another time, maybe?”
“Of course,” I attempted a smile, “You can take me out anytime.”
Lyra blushed again. If I could on demand, so would I. However, as good an actress as I am, that’s beyond me so I simply settled for a flutter of the eyelashes and blowing her a kiss as she stepped into the taxi and sped off.
I got into my own car and, once under the cover of its windows, I slipped off my ruined shirt and jacket. Good riddance to the ugly things, honestly. Still, they served their purpose and the tracksuit ought to keep me decent enough until I have an opportunity to change. And, once that was done, I drove to the spa – alone.
What is my life coming to? Good things, hopefully. After all, this may very well just be the growing pains of my illustrious career in… whichever industry ends up being lucky enough to be patronised by my talents. Still, lounging in a hot tub is ruined somewhat when one must do it alone.
The view gets ever so dull.