//------------------------------// // 9. A Deeply Debonaire Counterpart // Story: Paper Girl // by leeroy_gIBZ //------------------------------// I had opened the door to reveal none other than myself and then things got interesting. I must be dreaming. One has dreams like that, from time to time, does one not? You believe yourself to be awake, fully conscious and utterly in control – you go about your day, climb out of bed, see which of your friends blew up your phone with texts today – Sunset, in case you were wondering – and it's only when you wander downstairs to greet your ungrateful ingrate of a sister “Happy Birthday” do you encounter something so bizarre that it snaps you right back into your bed with the most awful of flashbacks. Only this time I didn’t get snapped anywhere. Blinking, I pressed my tongue into a tooth. That hurt and, when I opened my eyes, I still saw my doppelganger standing outside, arms crossed, foot a-tapping, and an expression on her face somewhere between expectant and amused. In the background, my sister’s whining about how didn’t ask for a harp and instead wanted more comic merchandise still rang loudly. I blinked again. The Other Rarity did too. “Good morning, Darling,” she said – her voice was, well, mine ̧ save for an undercurrent of maturity mine could only feign with a glass of bourbon and a fake ID. “Good… erm, hello?” I replied, still too put off to talk properly. “Oh, hi Rarity,” barked Spike. I blinked again. Excuse the faux pas, but I rubbed my eyes. Still, there I was dressed in a magnificent woollen charcoal travelling coat beneath which a beautifully sharp and form-fitting pinstripe suit the colour of fresh blood highlighted every curve I possessed. And, oh my, I’d forgotten how many curves I had. Lots. Beside the Other Me, a positively elephantine wolf of a purple and green dog sat wagging his tail and panting, his tongue flapping all the while. “Something the matter, Darling?” the Other Rarity asked. “Yes?” I said, “Namely, I thought I was me.” Come to think of it, I thought I was also supposed to be the best-dressed person around, and her outfit, also including a jet-black pair of kitten heels and a fedora, puts my own to shame. If they could, my poor t-shirt and skirt would’ve committed suicide by now. “Ah. Sunset, in her haste to arriving at her job on time must’ve forgotten to tell you. I,” she said with a doff of the hat and a light curtsey, “am Rarity Belle, fashionista extraordinaire, the Element of Generosity and a proud citizen of Equestria.” “I gathered,” I said, gathering as much – Princess Twilight’s reply in the journal said my counterpart would be coming but it left out the date of her arrival. Furthermore, I hadn’t realized how unnerving staring down your clone would be. I can see why said Twilight doesn’t visit anymore – that and something about a dictatorship back home. Hers, I hope. They tend to have the snappiest uniforms. “Indeed. I do believe you were informed of this, Darling.” “I was, Darling. I just… its little much to… ah see you in person.” “It must be. I ran into Rainbow Dash, your version of her, on the way here and we had quite the conversation, let me tell you. If it wasn’t for Sunset’s quick thinking, the girl would’ve thought me a changeling! Anyhow, shall you invite me in? A cup of tea just might be in order.” “Oh, of course. Forgive me, please. I’m not exactly as adept as you must be at dealing with all sorts of magical phenomena. I think a cup of tea and perhaps a stiff drink will be the doctor’s orders,” I said, standing aside and letting my counterpart pass. Was it just me or was an inch or so taller – I was wearing heels too so it can’t be those, right? Just then, the Other Rarity turned back where Spike sat. Come to think of it, he might not fit through the doorway and a repeat of the Harp Incident would not be in order right now. But she spoke before I could. “Why don’t you stay out there, Darling, and I’ll send somebody to deal with the luggage shortly?” she said, before looking to me, “Sunset rented one of your world’s… chariots to ferry my things. However, I had a little more packed than she could take in a single trip. Hence why she’s already departed.” “Ah,” I muttered, looking over to where a stack of six suitcases lay sitting in the driveway beside Spike, “You certainly came prepared.” “A lady is never without a wardrobe,” she smiled, “Now, the tea.” “Right this way… ah, well, I don’t suppose I could keep calling interally you the Other Rarity, now could I?” I said as I led her inside my deeply humble abode. “I don’t suppose I can give you that moniker either. Say, since you were here first, why don’t you stay simply ‘Rarity’ while I go by ‘Belle’ then, ah?” she proposed. “Excellent, Darling. Belle. Now, if you’d be so kind as to excuse me, I think an explanation to my parents might just be in order. I’ve barely told them anything. Of course, they’re aware of the… your world but none of the details,” I said, leading her to the living room. “Oh, good ahead, Rarity,” said Belle, taking a seat on the couch, “I think I need to sit down anyhow. Honestly, how do you walk on only two legs? It's so… wobbly.” “Practice, Belle. It took me years.” Concern, genuine concern oddly enough, overtook her face. “Oh my. Is that… to be expected? I know I wasn’t exactly the fastest bloomer myself but… years before you could walk?” “That’s normal for humans, Darling.” “How unfortunate. You must drive your parents up the wall.” “Indeed I do, yes. Now if you’ll excuse me, tea must be prepared,” I said, heading to the kitchen, where Sweetie was now having a fit over the fact that her cake was chocolate and coffee, not chocolate and vanilla. Standing by was my mother, who looked about reading to ram a slice of it down her younger daughter’s throat, and my father, who looked like he desperately needed a beer or three poured down his own. Good grief, these people suck. How relieved I would be to be somebody else come next week and, come next month, be somebody else in Italy. “Ahem,” I announced. All three looked up. “Oh, good morning, my dear. How nice of you to join us in celebrating your own sister’s birthday,” said Cookie. “Well, if anything, the room is growing more frigid by the second. Anyhow, we have… a visitor.” “Oh, yeah. The doorbell rang,” said Hondo. “It did, yes. If I were asleep would you all just not have answered it?” A chorus of nods. “Mom made me a coffee cake and I asked for vanilla,” Sweetie pouted, arms crossed, foot stamped for effect. “Coffee has slimming properties, Darling. Chanel knows you need it.” “Are you calling me fat!?” Sweetie shouted. “Well, you are heavier than I am, Darling, and a good foot shorter too and we both know that’s certainly not muscle so…” “Besides, if you drink coffee you’ve got to shit, that’s the rule. That’s how weight-loss tea works. You crap the fat out,” my father added. “Hondo J Flanks!” my mother cuffed him upside the head, “Not in front of the children.” It occurred to me then that perhaps informing my immediate family that my clone was coming to stay – at least, until I figured out how properly impersonate and then kill her – might not be the wisest of choices. Come to think of it, their collective brain cell is dangerously close to overheating as is. And, now that the idea came to me, an opportunity to besmirch Fleur’s reputation is never one I’ll miss. “Mother,” I asked, “Do you remember a certain Miss Fleur dis Lis?” She nodded, confused. “Yes? That nice Canadian girl who moved into Mrs Cinch’s old house? You haven’t had a playdate with her in ages.” “Yes, well, I am nearly eighteen.” And she is a bitch. “Oh, you kids ‘hang out’ these days, right?” If you mean kill people, drink, and have lesbian sex, then yes, I suppose hang out might be a fitting descriptor for my life this past few months. But I didn’t say that – the poor woman still thought I was fourteen, after all. “Yes. We do say that. She’s… come to stay, just for a bit. Don’t tell anyone but she’s having trouble at home. Dyed her hair too, a nasty aubergine colour.” My mother gasped. Probably because of the running-away-from-home-bit, not the poor choice of hair colour. My father continued bickering with my sister about the mechanics of weight-loss tea and whether or not either of them needed to drink some. The answer, in case you – me, and by that, I mean me, not the Other Me – were wondering is yes. Both of them are positively rotund. “Oh, that poor thing!” my mother sobbed, “Of course, she’s welcome here. All of you of your friends are... The girlfriends, anyway.” Yes… No. As much as sleeping simultaneously with Octavia, Sunny, Roseluck, Applejack, Twilight, Lyra, and my own counterpart would bring me infinite joy, I’m concerned the amount of mutual antipathy arranging such a meeting would generate would probably tear a whole through the fabric of the universe and summon a new kind of chaos demon too. And I do not want Discord joining in there, no matter how much whipped cream he brings! “Thank you ever so much, Mother!” I said, giving her a hug; she, fortunately, just smelled of cocoa today and not her usual poisonous old lady perfume. That all done, I sauntered over to the fridge and retrieved a pair of canned sweet teas. Technically tea, even if the ingredients say otherwise – I’m confident Belle shan’t mind, or understand the difference. She was busy examining the art on the walls when I returned to the living room. Specifically, she was making disapproving noises at one of my drawings – my parents framed it after it won me a well-deserved “A” for my art final exam a few years back. However, she had at least taken the courtesy to hang her hat, overcoat, and blazer on the coat-rack and hatstand respectively. And have I mentioned that I do so enjoy an incredibly beautiful woman in a good suit – preferably one with suspenders and trousers tailored so tightly they might as well be vacuum-sealed on? Because I do, a lot. The fact that my mirror image was wearing such a garment only furthered the appeal. “Ah, Darling, I have returned,” I said, handing her a can of tea. Belle inspected it, blowing a lock of amethyst hair out of her face. By Chanel, I am going to regret killing her! A little, anyway. I’m sure gallivanting about Equestria is tremendous fun. Do you – me, again – know how well-endowed horses are, even the small and pastel ones? I’m sure she must. “How marvellous this world is, Rarity,” Belle said, studying the can, “You’ve tinned tea!” “Indeed, we have,” I nodded, leaning over to open it for her. “Also, I decided that it might just be wiser for you to simply impersonate somebody else while you’re here. Not everyone is exactly… aware of the pony world. I hope you don’t mind the name Fleur dis Lis.” “Nonsense!” she grinned deviously, “I shall take every opportunity to besmirch it… if you, well, would authorize that anyhow. She and I,” Belle winced a bit, “well, my version of her and I, we have a less than stellar history back home.” “No, by all means, run it into the ground. She is a terrible sort here too. Deeply disagreeable. That’s why I chose it.” “Does yours go around telling everyone she’s from Prance too, when she’s really from downtown Manehattan?” I nodded and took a sip of tea. “Something like that, yes.” “Ah. It seems personality traits really do carry over then how… interesting. I may have to adjust my plans,” she said, sitting back down and doing so in such a way that would be little lewd if she weren’t actually a pony still, presumably, getting used to a humanoid body. Not that I was complaining in the slightest. “So, Belle, Darling,” I asked, joining her on the couch, “Do you have any plans for your stay here?” Now I find it very important to note that, unlike I had told Sunset I would, I did not invite Belle over for any counselling or mentorship whatsoever. Rather, I simply asked her out on a vacation, judging that she must be somewhat stressed with such a busy life and all. I did stress the urgency of it, however – claiming that I had to start a very important project, that being school not that I said as much, quite soon and would greatly appreciate her presence before that. Greatly. I stressed that very thoroughly. It was positively urgent that we be sipping Mint Juleps by the week’s end. If she lives that long, anyhow. A shame, really. There are so few perfect bodies in this world. It would be a shame to desecrate mine. Maybe I’ll just slip poison in her food – I do believe there’s an oleander tree in the backyard? “Ah, Rarity, are you alright?” Belle asked, snapping her fingers. “Yes! Darling, just deep in thought. Not ladylike in the slightest, I am well aware, but surely we can be comfortable around each-other?” I smiled – my heart pounded like gunfire. “Oh, more than comfortable I’d say,” she said, a faint blush spreading across her regal features, “After all, does it really count if it’s with your… ever so fetching counterpart?” “I should think not.” My voice dropped to a whisper, “Or I’d get into heaps of trouble doing to you all the things I want to do.” “Well, it sounds like your family will be busy arguing for quite some time. Surely a quick… oh, not now of all times, to forget a word. What’s the primate equivalent of a nuzzle?” Belle asked. “One of these,” I said, drawing her into a French kiss. Fuck! Do I taste good or what? Eat your heart out, Fleur – I am going to go and fuck myself tonight. I pressed harder and she went soft in my arms, moaning slightly as our tongues met. Unfortunately, my mother then walked in carrying a tray of actual tea. Needless to say, one deeply stunned gasp later and the crockery lay shattered upon the floor and the tea started soaking into the carpet. Her face turned deeply uncomfortable shade of puce. I let go of Belle. “Ah, oui,” she – Belle, my Belle – began, “Bonjour Madame Cru-” “Rarity Belle, what the heck is going on her here!?” My mother shouted, cutting Belle off. Oh for fuck’s sake, pardon the literal French, not now. I stood up and straightened out my skirt. Good grief, was my counterpart handsy. Or would that be hoofsy? Then again, I am too and Belle set about buttoning up her blouse again. Anyhow, I walked a step or two closer to my dumbstruck parent. How my loudmouth braggart of a father never told the woman about my preferences is beyond me, but I suspect it has something to do with her vehemently ignoring everything he says and him thinking I’m still “best friends” with Twilight. Or was it Octavia? One of the two. “Mother,” I began, sighing, “I can explain. However, now is not really the time. We’re both very clearly surprised and on edge so maybe you can give us, me and Fleur, an hour or so? Then we’d be more than… happy to tell you everything.” She sort of nodded, sort of shook her head, and sort of growled in confused anger. Not a dignified combination in the slightest – how this person created me is a mystery for the ages, truly. “Indeed, oui. It would be very ‘elpful for us all to get our collecteeve soughts in orderre before ‘aveeng this conversasionne,” Belle added, in a particularly strong and not particularly convincing French accent. “Erm. Okay?” Cookie said. “Yes! Excellent! I’ll be back, I promise,” I said, grabbing Belle, who grabbed her hat, before hurrying out the house. Once passed the door, I slipped a hand back round and unhooked the car keys from the coat rack because there was no way I was hanging out with Spike sitting camped in the driveway for an hour. Not even if Belle was there, that is how much I despise that dog. “Hey, Rarity – uh, Rarities! Where are you going?” he barked. Belle turned to him and glared. “Don’t talk until Sunset comes back, alright. Just guard the luggage. Not everyone knows.” “Okay? Are you… do you need help or something?” he asked. “Nothing of the sort, Darling. A lady always comes out on top,” she said, before whispering in my ear, “especially in the boudoir.” Oh my, I am looking forward to this! “Thank you, Belle,” I said, ushering her into the car before getting in myself and starting away from my house at a speed probably faster than necessary. Once a sufficient distance away from the place – about halfway to the mall, which seemed like an appropriate place to go – Belle breathed a sigh of relief, reclining at last in the seat. “Good grief,” she said, “How I despise my parents. Yours included. Mine don’t exactly… know all I get up to either.” “They don’t? Huh.” “Well, I get up to an awful lot, you know,” she grinned slyly. “Anyhow, where exactly are we headed? I don’t suppose we’re actually going to go back there in an hour?” I smiled, “Of course not, Darling. I figured some shopping might be in order, as well as a bite to eat. I don’t suppose you’ve seen our boutiques, have you?” “Alas not. Us ponies tend to go nude for most occasions, so we have very few of them back home.” You do? Of course, you do. Coats of fur, and all. Still, you must see the most interesting things living such a life… “Ah, yes,” I said, “Well, you’ll be in for quite the treat then.” “I certainly hope so. Twilight, my version of her, informed me that there existed a locale where I can exchange my world’s currency for yours. I’m informed the exchange rate is very favourable.” “I… guess there might be? What is your currency, exactly?” Belle produced a handful of coins from an almost medieval purse at her side. They glinted like gold in the morning light. No, not like gold. They were gold. And she had an entire bag of them! “Oh. My.” “Indeed,” she winked, “Quite favourable indeed. We could… oh… we could rent a room in a Three-Horshoe Hotel. Penthouse suite. For the night. Or more.” “That sounds truly wonderful, Darling,” I said, leaning over to land a peck on her cheek. My, her skin was soft. Is mine that soft? I should hope so. Perhaps I ought to ask what products she uses? Anyhow, one trip to the goldsmith later and we were rich. No, I take that back – we were wealthy. Rich, to paraphrase Chris Rock, can be lost in a single crazy summer with a drug habit. Wealthy cannot be. For example, Shaquille O’Neal is rich. The man who pays him is wealthy. Most of the money I deposited into my account – well, as much as I could deposit without raising any eyebrows at the bank – the rest, a few thousand dollars, Belle and I pocketed. And then we went shopping. Ah, how good it feels to have money again. I must have spent the GDP of a small African nation on cosmetics alone. Belle had to stop me before I ended up purchasing more than I could conceivably carry without a fleet of porters at my command. Making the logical choice, we arranged to have the stuff shipped over to the portal outside the school – I’m sure a combination of Belle, Princess Twilight, and Sunset will figure out how to properly allocate sixteen pairs of shoes, eleven dresses, two suits, a few cases of jewellery, and more metal records than one can shake a stick at. While I was polishing off the last of the payments and making the man who owns Nordstrom even wealthier than he already was, Belle ran into somebody. Rarity Belle, the Other One, had just walked into Sunny Flare. Oh boy. I finished off the purchase, swiped the card, and settled down to watch the sparks fly. It couldn’t hurt – that much. Sunny already hated me and Belle was well, me, so she could clearly handle herself. All proper ladies can and she proceeded to do so marvellously. “Hey, Rarity!” Sunny said, putting on a forced smile upon spotting my counterpart. “Fancy seeing you here.” “Terribly sorry about that, Darling. You must know how it is, being bipedal and all,” Belle said, collecting a dropped bag. She squinted. “What.” Belle blinked. “Ah… yes. We’re baboons, like the Storm King. I tripped the other day and twisted my… ah… shin? It’s been such a pain, let me tell you.” “Oh,” announced Sunny, “That’s painful? I am so sorry. Did you twist it when you climbed out the window and ran away without finishing our conversation, Dearie? Or did you twist it fucking! Twilight Sparkle?” Belle looked for me. I slipped behind a rack of coats. This seemed like as good a time as any to see if she was as capable as I. Knowing that might just be handy if when I have to kill her. “Ah. Yes. That conversation. I presume then that you, Darling, found out about that little… affair.” “Found out? I was forced to listen to that slut gush over how much she loved you for two hours over dinner!” “My condolences,” Belle muttered. “Don’t pull that shit with me. I want an explanation. Did you seriously hit her over a spilled coffee?” Sunny ranted. Belle stayed calm – which is a great deal more than I would have done if a random stranger came up to me and started to insinuate that I went around assaulting people. “Darling,” she began, “Don’t you think you are overreacting here by quite the margin?” Sunny scowled. “I am not overreacting! How do you think I felt figuring out that my girlfriend’s cheating on me? How do you think I felt when you just disappear one day and stop answering me calls? You broke my heart!” If one’s heart is broken so easily, it deserves to be. Really, I ignore you for three days and you’re in hysterics? The girl continued, tossing aside her own bags to step up to and then point at Belle. “No, I don’t think I am overreacting at all.” “Darling, my reaction was perfectly justified, considering what you did to me. You’re just as bad… if not worse.” Sunny gawked. “Wh-what I di-did to you? What I did?” “Yes. I don’t lie to people. I make it no secret that I do, well used to, date this Twilight person. Yet you, Darling, have the audacity to come to me and accuse me of committing adultery? If I did, then you were not some poor defenceless victim. You were an accomplice. You have no right to ask me for anything, after all I have done for you. And you certainly do not have any right to lay a finger on me,” Belle said, batting Sunny’s hand aside. In response, she started a reply. Then she stopped and stared at her palm like it belonged to a lion. It was Belle’s turn to continue, “Darling, you are acting like a hypocrite of the very highest order right now. You hit me and you think that makes you better than yours truly? Just because, what, I did it over some spilled drink? If anything, that’s a better reason to assault somebody than ‘conveniently forgetting you’re cheating on somepony’. You did that and you broke my trust because you just so happened to think I’d broken yours. I did not. I was transparent. If anything, you were drunk. I can smell the cider on your breath right now. Of course, I’d ignore you after you attacked me. Of course, I’d immediately leave the house, Darling.” “I- ah, well, Dear-” Sunny stuttered. Belle laid a finger across her lips, shushing her. “But I forgive you. Everypony makes mistakes, Darling. In fact, why don’t we start this again, from square one? A blank slate, if you will. I’ll even apologise first. I’m sorry for leading you, even accidentally, into a deception. That was cruel and negligent of me, and deeply unladylike to boot.” Sunny blinked. She sighed. “I honestly didn’t think you had a proper reason or anything for all that.” “Well, Darling, I do. What say you, ah? Shall we put that mess of an affair behind us and start anew?” She nodded. “Let me think about it, okay?” “Excellent, Darling!” Belle said, drawing her into a hug. “Now, you must excuse me. I’m here on business, doing research and all, and I really can’t dally to long. Ta!” We met outside the store, a sufficient distance away from any nosy ex-girlfriends a few minutes later. We both breathed a sigh of relief. I had honestly worried for a second or two there that Sunny would figure out that something was afoot – or stand up for herself – but my counterpart did that, well, better than I myself could, given my and Sunny’s last encounter. Seriously though, that was a fourth-storey window. Jumping out of it would be suicide. “Well then,” said Belle, “Who was that?” “You didn’t know? I thought everyone had a pony version of themselves, Belle.” “I believe that may be the case but I certainly haven’t met them all. I’d remember meeting her. Rather fetching mare, all things considered. Especially from behind.” “Certainly. Sunny has her angles. I must thank you though, you saved me from quite the scrape indeed. And having her as a friend is infinitely preferable to having her as an enemy.” Belle giggled. “Oh, it was nothing. Just a dash of cold reading and some basic theatre. Nothing a lady can’t manage. Underhanded, I am well aware but, then again, sacrifices must be made.” “I can look past it, worry not. Now, didn’t you say that we had to meet Sunset sometime today?” I asked, “I believe her shift should be finished by now.” “We might as well, Rarity. I cannot say that I find her the most endearing person but… oh, even the nosy and the moralizing have their uses, few and far between though they may be.” “I couldn’t say it better myself. Shall we?” she said, offering a hand. I took it and led her to the Japanese restaurant where Sunset worked part-time rolling sushi and waiting tables and just generally being a pretty face. The two of us took a table outside, as far from the stench of raw fish, soy sauce, and generic orientalism as we could. Belle, I noticed, seemed somewhat on edge. And, for somebody who was as good at hiding emotion as I was, that she actually was awfully unease. Her feet kept tapping the ground and her eyes darted about, from me to the crowds bustling by and then down to the hill of purchases stacked beside our table. Her fingers tattooed the table and a sudden noise every so often would nearly rocket her out of her seat. Only after we had placed our orders, did I ask. More so I raised an eyebrow at the rather stiff double of whiskey she’d ordered herself. “Oh, Darling, you do not need to worry about me. I’m just adjusting to the… climate, that’s all. We, alas, don’t really have malls of this size back home and all the flashing lights are new as well. And walking on two legs does make one terribly dizzy,” she said, before downing most of her drink in a single gulp. “Ah. That’s all then? There isn’t something else?” I asked – by now I had a fairly decent idea of my counterpart’s morals, or lack thereof, but I only got like that when I did something or had to do something. Something that tends to result in a jail sentence at best. “Not at all, Rarity. Just a hint of sensory overload, that’s all. Really, even our largest city, Manehattan, is monstrously rustic compared to this.” If you think this is advanced, you should see our Manhattan. Or, better yet, Milan. The air doesn’t stink of exhaust fumes in Milan, last time I cared to check. “Alright, Darling,” I said, taking a sip of my own cup of sake. Strong stuff, but the sun had long since passed the yardarm given all our shopping and whatnot. Perfectly justifiable. We bounced the ball of conversation back and forth a bit after that – myself trying to learn everything I could about her and her lifestyle back home and her maintaining a healthy interest in me and in this world’s own goings-on in general. Truly, she was an honest pleasure to talk to. She was the first person I have met in my nigh-eighteen years upon this earth that really got me. The conversation proceeded to the point where we were finishing each-other’s sentences more often than not and also playing footsies under the table. Scandalous, I know given the lack of a tablecloth, but I was determined to enjoy as much of her as possible before she had, alas, to die. “Are you two going to keep flirting or are you two going to move onto a main course any time soon?” Sunset asked, walking over to us. “Ah!” Belle clasped her hands, “Sunset Shimmer! How kind of you to make an appearance, Darling.” She crossed her arms. I noticed that she still wore her uniform. “We were supposed to meet by the fountain. During my break, three hours ago. Did you get lost?” she asked – gathering from how her glare shifted at me, I reckoned that question was rhetorical. “Ladies need not be talented with directions, Sunset. That’s what men are for. That and affording expenses,” Belle said, nodding to where our collective mountain of brand-new clothes and cosmetics sat. She palmed her face. “It’s a miracle how you two have survived for so long in this world. And its only been, like, eight hours.” “Your point, Darling?” I shot back. “My point in that the boss told me to ask whether or not you want the cheque and maybe a room because, between the pair of you, you’ve drank about two bottles of sake and half a Blue Label. That and you’ve been sharing the same plate of sushi for two hours now,” Sunset said, pulling a card machine from a pocket of her apron. “Aren’t you going to ask how we are, Darling?” Belle replied, offended. “No, because it looks like you two are actually doing fine getting done… whatever friendship problem you had to do. Also, I’m at work and, if you hadn’t noticed, Lyra is sitting a few tables over and, if she sees me, which she just has,” Sunset sighed, “I’m not going to be getting any work done for a while. That means I don’t get paid,” she muttered, “which means another night eating nachos and ramen.” Lyra, true to form, yelled hello over from her table, waving and extricated herself from a sitting position that looked more like an advanced yoga pose than anything a carpenter ever intended for one to do with a chair. She bounded over, grinning maniacally, and proceeded to trip over her own cowboy boots upon spotting exactly who the pair of beauties arguing with Sunset were. Sunset picked her up. Lyra looked no worse for wear. “O-M-G! There’s two of you, Rares!?” “Je m’appelle Fleur dis Lis,” Belle Frenched. “Don’t bother,” Sunset sighed again, “She knows.” “This is totally awesome! You’re from the pony world!” Lyra said, jumping up and down a little, “Are you a unicorn?” Belle grinned lecherously. “Am I ever.” “C-can you tell me what it’s like?” Belle’s grinned struggled. “Pardon? Do you mean, what it’s like to be a unicorn in Equestria? Why, it is simply marvellous, Darling! You can get away with anything. Well, nearly. Can’t stab people, unfortunately, despite the magnificent horn.” “Yeah! I’ve always wanted to meet a real unicorn! One who doesn’t have me blocked on literally every social media,” Lyra babbled, shooting a look at Sunset, who merely shrugged. My counterpart finished the remains of her fifth scotch and stood up from the table. “Well, Darling,” she said to Lyra, “I suppose I could tell you a thing or two.” Lyra started hyperventilating. Good grief, I think I might have actually dodged a bullet trying to pursue her. Nobody should be able to smile that widely. Or vibrate. Both of which Lyra was doing, in addition to muttering “yes yes yes” under her voice repeatedly. “On second thoughts, maybe you two can discuss… this somewhere else? Ideally, in a bathroom. One I don’t have to clean. Ever,” Sunset said and that was all the encouragement Belle needed. She took Lyra’s hand and I’m impressed the green girl didn’t explode or melt into a puddle right there. Yes, I know it is tremendously tacky to sleep with somebody in a public bathroom. However, given that it is Lyra and she can do things with herself that most professional contortionists would think twice about attempting, an exception can be made. I just hope she doesn’t immediately tell everyone that this world’s version of Rarity Belle, fashionista extraordinaire, was the one to do the act. That would not be helpful. Once the two of them had hurried off to do something that definitely did involve any noses getting powdered, Sunset turned back to me, eyebrows raised and all thought of a cheque getting paid forgotten. “Yes, Darling? If the wind changes, are you positive that’s the expression you want to keep?” I asked. Sunset sat down across from me, glare unchanging. She picked up a piece of sashimi and ate it, staring at me all the while. It occurred to me that a pony looking another dead in the eye and devouring a piece of raw flesh would probably be intimidating in her culture. However, I am not a pony. Yet, anyway – and I’ve also killed people. “Ever so endearing, Sunset. It is no wonder Flash broke up with you.” Sunset stopped chewing. She washed the piece of sushi down with a sip of sake, straight from the bottle. I’d chide her for that, but Princess Twilight had similar manners too. Perhaps it’s a magician thing? “What did I tell you, Rarity Belle?” she growled. “Many things, but going off the assumption that you’re using my full name because you are angry at me, it must have been something quite awful. Is this about the kaftan I promised you?” She shut her eyes then, and hissed in a deep breath. Her hands crunched into the table’s wood. Her pendant glowed. “This… isn’t about the fucking kaftan, Rarity. That was seven months ago, the last time you promised me a damn dress. It’s about my journal!” “Ah. Yes. Beautiful book that.” “Yeah,” she smiled like a starved lion upon spotting a wounded gazelle, “it was. Until you set it on fire!” “I did not do that.” “Don’t play dumb with me, Rarity.” “Why didn’t you simply call me about this, Darling? As much as I appreciate it, there’s no need to make a fool of yourself in public.” “Well, for starters, you never answer your phone.” “You never call me when you have good news. It is always, ‘Rarity, where are you? Equestrian magic is on the loose and lives are in danger!’ Or its ‘Rarity, where are you? Practice started twelve seconds ago!’ Or, sometimes, it is ‘Rarity, where are you? You promised me a kaftan for the Fall Formal and it starts in half an hour and I don’t have it yet!’ Never good news, I must say. If you called me to just ask how I was, I might respond.” Sunset ground her teeth. A vein in her head bulged. “I lent you my journal and you set it on fire. Why?” “I needed to roll a cigarette,” I lied. “A fucking cigarette!” Sunset screamed. Diner’s heads started to turn. “Would you have me roll a blunt instead? Furthermore, how do you even know I did that?” “Twilight sent a letter along with Spike, explaining the fire. And now because of your stupid nicotine habit, I’ve lost years of letters back and forth with her. Do you know what that feels like? To get told that your favourite book in the whole world just went up in smoke?” Sunset asked, slamming a fist upon the table. “You must feel terrible, I must assume. I’ll be less negligent in future if it sets your heart right,” I answered. She started. My phone chimed. I cut her off, taking the device out my bag to check the message – mostly to spite Sunset but I was also curious as to see if Sunny apologized to me yet. It wasn’t Sunny. As a matter of fact, there were quite a few messages; mostly missed-call notifications from my mother but also two of some actual importance – one dating early this morning, before I even awoke, and dating a mere few seconds ago. Both were images. The latter was a selfie Lyra sent me of her locked in a kiss with Belle – because, of course, my reputation needs that proverbial punch in the tits. The former was somehow even more distressing. Lightning Dust had sent it. It involved another selfie, yes, but she certainly wasn’t kissing anyone. Rather, she was seated beside a seemingly unconscious and bedridden young blonde, and she was sticking her tongue and making a particularly obscene gesture. Said girl, upon closer inspection, was Sugarcoat. Fuck me. The photo was captioned, I know what u did, Rarity. Prepare 2 die! Fuck me a cactus. Sunset, noticing the phone slip from my hand and clatter to the ground, promptly stuck out her hand and read my mind. Literally; she can do that. I can make glass discs out of thin air and she can read minds. Fuck me a cactus that’s covered in flaming barbed wire. Now, because she’s done this to me before, I know how it works. It is not a pleasant process in the slightest. It’s like watching a highlight reel of your biggest mistakes getting flipped through by a remote held by the most bored father on the planet come Sunday afternoon when there’s nothing good on – not even a snooker game. Furthermore, the magic paralyzes you when she does it and the memories are watched in real time as well. And no, you cannot close your eyes either. Minutes passed. Presumably, a crowd gathered. I saw Shamrock die again. I said Sugarcoat die again. Well, I thought I saw her die; apparently, I must be mistaken about that. Then a thunderclap rang out through the mall. Reality returned with a jolt. Lurching forward and trying my hardest not to throw up half a plate of sushi and a few glasses of rice wine – a harder task than one might imagine given the nausea that follows a mind-rape – I saw Sunset draw back her hand, caressing her cheek with it as she stared up at a deeply peeved Belle. My saviour. Any longer and Sunset might’ve figured out what I ended up doing with Shining’s car. “What do you think you are doing, Darling,” she spat. “She killed people,” Sunset slurred. I guess being snapped out of her spell mustn’t feel too good on her end either. “I know that, Sunset Shimmer,” Belle lied, “Why do you think she specifically requested my presence? And before you dare to ask, it isn’t to help hide the bodies at all. She wanted to confess to somebody who she could trust. And, clearly, that person is not you.” Sunset blinked. As did I. By Chanel, I should genuinely consider drinking less. My innards feel like there’s a cyclone raging through them. Any more sake and they very well might become outards as I vomit them all up. “Rarity, she’s planning-” Belle snapped her fingers at her. “I have fought chaos gods, changeling queens, giant centaur vampires, and deranged teenage girls before. I can handle my own counterpart and, by the time I am done with her, she’ll be walking the straight and narrow better than you, yourself, can… Darling.” Sunset sighed. “… Okay. Fair point.” “A lady’s always are. Besides, beauty is a rarity, no matter what the world – no point in letting it succumb to evil. Now,” said Belle, pressing a wad of notes into Sunset’s shaking hand, “here’s a hundred dollars. Pardon the Prench, but fuck off and let me do my job.” Sunset proceeded to do so. Belle led me out the mall and the back to the car. I was in quite the state, let me say, and without her I doubt I’d have made fourteen steps, let alone four storeys and across a boutique storefront without looking at it and possibly being violently ill. I fumbled the keys from my handbag and opened it. We both collapsed inside and then got out and got back in again after she accidentally climbed in the driver’s seat. A minute passed. We each were silent; myself staring out the car window, out the parking garage and into the evening outside; and her adjusting her mascara in the mirror.  She spoke first. I had my teeth gritted to keep the bile in my throat down. Is this what being hit by Harmony Magic feels like? If so, I can but all too well empathise with either world’s Discord now. “Well then. Murder, ah?” Belle muttered, now fiddling with an eye pencil she’d bought not hours ago. “Of course not, Darling.” I gulped. “Sunset explained her… abilities while ferrying my luggage this morning. I trust her too, Darling, even if she shouldn’t be trusting me. So do tell, I love a bit of gossip.” I sighed. “I ran somebody with a car.” “How foul,” Belle frowned, “the gore must’ve gotten everywhere.” “I still cannot get the stench of his blood out of nose.” “Oh. You poor thing,” she laid a hand on my shoulder, “Do you need a minute. Some time to breathe, perhaps? Before we set off again?” I shook my head. “A lady always manages. Besides, nobody else knows,” I lied – if I confessed, as much as I wanted to, that might just make her suspicious. And I couldn’t have that. “Very well, Darling. Have you a hotel in mind?” “Of course,” I lied, “Now would you mind telling me whatever happened to Lyra? I noticed she didn’t return with you.” Belle grinned naughtily. “Oh, she’s likely still recuperating. The dear was a little overly enthusiastic and all. Dislocated her ah? Foreleg?” “Forearm,” I corrected her. “Yes. One of those. Twisted it right out the socket trying to photograph the pair of us. So, our session was cut a shade shorter than I’d have preferred. Still, lovely warmup though, especially for what I’ve got planned for you.” With that, Belle leaned over and kissed me. It was then that I knew everything was going to be alright. She was head-over-heels for me and wouldn’t be suspecting a thing when I slashed her throat open. But I’ll do that next week – I’m sure I can spare a few days enjoying her company. Still, sometimes I wish I was normal. Belle’s eyes glinted in the garage’s gloom as she licked her lips. “You know, Rarity, nobody would know if we started now. I’m still ever so pent up after my affair earlier.” But now is definitely not one of those times.