“Actually, it’s been kinda rough lately,” he says, and from the tone of his that implies he’s about to let her know just how rough it has been lately, Rarity regrets reactively asking him how he was.
“Oh,” she says sympathetically, because she’s many things but not rude – well, admittedly she’s had the occasional, necessary rude bout. But not now because, well. He’s had it rough.
“Yeah, I told my girlfriend we probably needed some space, and I’m pretty sure she heard me but she texted me today asking if we’re still on for dinner…” he trails off as he pulls out his phone and shows Rarity the exact text.
Part of Rarity thrives on being privy to these things. Another part is just surprised that asking “how are you” suddenly gives her such privileged access to the inside.
“And I don’t know what she means. ‘Cause, she was talking about moving in, and I just felt like she was moving to fast, and I do really like her, but. I dunno. What do you think?”
Rarity thinks his girlfriend should be prepared to wash dishes. “Hmm. Well, I think you should at least have dinner. Maybe she just wants to talk about it?”
“Yeah, but…I dunno. I guess. You think?”
“It doesn’t hurt to talk,” Rarity says. Hypocrite, she thinks.
None the wiser, he nods. “Yeah, probably. Hah, guess you are, ‘a great listener and should get a raise L-O-L’. Er, Soarin’s words. Well, him saying someone else’s words—you get it, I bet.” He lifts his cup before walking away. “Good talk!”
As Rarity returns to her task of sorting different size paperclips, of which there are literally hundreds, she wonders again what forces have cursed her with great interpersonal skills but absolute lack of boyfriend.
A week, fine. Two? Pushing it – actually, one was pushing it but Rarity is polite, sort of.
Three weeks, and Rarity puts her foot down and makes a statement – verbally and fashionably.
“Ow! What’d’you do that for?”
“Can you please get over it?” Rarity moans; she’s a little fed up and doesn’t feel much like being gentle about it, considering Rainbow’s been refusing to even participate in Rarity’s more fun getaways, such as grocery shopping because suddenly she;s realising all the benefits of vegan milk.
Rainbow kicks Rarity’s foot off hers with the other one, then decides to pull her legs up and lie down on Rarity’s bed. “I’m fine.”
At least she’s not lying to Rarity, even if she’s lying to herself. It makes Rarity feel less jaded. “I understand if you’re feeling upset– “
“I’m chill,” Rainbow bites back, entirely not-chill.
Well, she tried to be patient. “Darling, I understand. I wish I was a bit more involved with Fluttershy’s life up to this point, and heaven knows I would have adored to have been there for the proposal, but it’s not too late to– “
“Man, it doesn’t bother me. Like, I don’t care about that stuff like you do.”
Rarity raises her eyebrows. “But you’re giving mixed signals here, dear.”
Rainbow looks at her derisively. “Thought we talked about how bad you are with signs.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
“I don’t wanna talk about the subject.”
Rarity shrugs her shoulders, though feels she’s not giving enough of an air of indifference so she tosses her hair over it. “Okay. Sure. Absolutely, darling. Though I imagine there aren’t many people other than I that you would talk about it with.”
“It’s, she – it’s old news, dude.” Rainbow rolls over on her side so that Rarity can’t see her face; but her quiet and bitter tone paints the image of it. “She’s kinda young to be getting married, that’s all.”
Without a sound, Rarity puts her charcoal pen down and shuts her sketchbook. “Engaged. They could be waiting a few years before an actual wedding.”
“Whatever. Maybe. She’s rushing though, prob’ly has a baby coming or somethin’.”
“No,” Rarity hums, trying to add a bit of a laugh to it. “She’s not like – well, I can’t say for certain, but I doubt it’s like that. You know Fluttershy.”
“Sure,” is all Rainbow Dash says.
“I’m sorry,” is all Rarity says, just as simple. Pity she couldn’t come up with more, though; she used to be so elegant with words.
Enough time passes in silence for Rarity to turn back to her desk, open her book back to the dress she was planning out, and think it’s also a pity that she’s not as creative as she remembers being.
Following the sound of rustling, Rainbow yawns. “I’m not. I’m happy for her. Yeah.”
Rarity turns back around; Rainbow is pushed up on her elbow and rubbing her eyes.
“I am too.” Rarity smiles. “Do you know how hard it is to find a beau that would settle down in this day and age?”
Rainbow’s hand stays hovered over her eye as she looks at Rarity, then askance. Then, probably deciding against sulking more, she scoffs. “Hah. You live in, like, a nineteenth century backwater city. The only thing people do around here is settle down.”
At her own expense, Rarity scoffs as well. “Pfft. I think they’re all just convinced you and I are a thing.”
“Ugh.” Rainbow drops her head. “I can do so much better than you.”
“You certainly have an odd way of proving it.”
“I’m gonna sleep.”
“On my bed. Which, of course, brings me back to my previous point.”
Rainbow waves a hand idly. “Whatever.” And while Rarity think that’s the end of that conversation, a few seconds later Rainbow tiredly adds, “I don’t really get it at all, so. I’m not trying to fight you, I just. I dunno. Just got pissed, y’know? Sorry. And thanks.”
Rarity hums and turns around.
Of course she can relate. She loved, absolutely loved seeing Sunset and Twilight again. And it was natural and so easy for them to fall into the step of conversation; no sense of jealousy or distance that she was afraid grew in the years of distance. Just old friends.
But at the end of the day, five years is a lot of distance. A distance that is hardly made easier by video calls and texts and visits that become fewer and farther between the longer they try to keep it up.
Its made even farther when everyone is occupied with what’s ahead of them, while Rarity stands behind, lingers, and ignores the feeling of someone’s hand always ready on the door leading out of her life.
It’s a small town, but it hadn’t felt so empty until a few days ago.
“I really miss them,” Rarity sighs out in a breath that rattles her throat.
“I miss ‘em, too,” Rainbow echoes blearily. She pauses just long enough for Rarity to think she won’t follow up at all. “But. Y’know? I think they miss you more. More than me, prob’ly.”
Rarity has half a mind to say something immediately, tell her that that’s certainly false and of course their friends miss them dearly and equally. But she catches herself – simply says, “Not true, darling.” – and waits, because she knows that, were it her, she wouldn’t want to have gathered up the courage to finally speak just to hit a wall.
She does, after another baited pause. “’Cause, like, you still sorta keep up with ‘em. You talk to them each at least once a month, right? And…you don’t have beef with AJ, or even Sunset who I thought you’d totally chew out just ‘cause she’s your mean girl rival or whatever. But when she and Twi came over, you made it seem like they never left.” This time, she stops to take a breath that escapes like a yawn. “I, I dunno, man. I feel like – if people miss you, they think of you. Kind of a package deal, right?”
Well that couldn’t be it. It’s because Rarity is a personality more than a person, which makes it easy to keep up with; it’s because Rarity, well, she –
She doesn’t know, honestly. If she had that much figured out, maybe she wouldn’t feel a little worse about herself at the end of the week because she just can’t pin down what it is she’s missing.
…but where she once believed it was her friends pining after, its not so easy to convince herself of right now. Because, while she does ache for their presence when she lets herself think too long, seeing Rainbow Dash like this – beaten down by a force she can’t stubbornly fight back – she realises her heart is not hung up over not being the afterthought.
She’s not missing someone, she’s missing out on something.
It’s a statement that ricochets in the back of Rarity’s mind; one she wants to unfold and think over until it means nothing again so it won’t bother her, but none too eager too.
Timely as ever, Rainbow doesn’t give her the chance. “Sorry, Rares. Didn’t mean to emotionally puke on you like that. Not cool of me.”
“Oh, darling, so long as I don’t have to get my hands dirty, I don’t mind helping you clean up.” It’s only a little ironic because a few years ago Rainbow did puke on her, and that was a disaster. For Rainbow Dash, of course; Rarity made sure. “I’m here if you ever want a little tête-à-tête. Just let me know if I need to bring a garbage bin. And a hazmat suit.”
“You should bring them for when we go to the engagement party,” Rainbow says, and stutters on the end of the sentence like it’s a bit too large for her mouth. “I’ll be an astronaut, and you can be trash.”
Rarity’s just glad Rainbow is the one who brings it up – and technically decides that yes, they are going, apprehensions be damned – because she wants to go just as much as she doesn’t, and walking that tightrope is stressful.
But that doesn’t mean she’s going to take an insult lying down. Or from someone lying down, that is. “Rainbow, darling. You don’t need to go to Jupiter to get stupider.”
Well, she tried. She didn’t major astronomy, she can get a pass this time.
“Hah, been waiting to tell that one since you were ten?”
“Honey I am a ten.”
“Yeah, a ten-hut.” Rainbow blinks. “Fine, I couldn’t think of anything. You win.”
Small victories, Rarity thinks. Some days you carry yourself with small victories.
Rarity stops by Sugarcube Corner one day after work.
She considers ordering her old favourite – cappuccino with whip; yes, she was once that person – but when walks in she isn’t immediately hit with the familiar whiff of carrot cake and instead sees someone behind the counter she doesn’t recognise.
When Rarity casually asks the barista about Mr. and Mrs. Cake, she says, “Who?”
Casually as she can, Rarity laughs it off and heads back home. A few days later at dinner, she asks her parents about the Cakes.
“Oh, they moved out east,” Rarity’s dad answers. He tries to explain whereabouts east, but to Rarity it’s all the same anyways.
“They sold Sugarcube Corner?” Sweetie pipes up. “I thought they just worked mornings when I’m at school.”
From the sink where she’s washing dishes, Rarity’s mom explains. “No, Sweetie, they still own it, but have someone else managing it. They just moved out to the city for the twins.” She tuts. “Bless their souls, but I think they got it backwards: ‘round here its much safer for kids.”
“Better soil and air for the brain,” their dad adds, “and less Instatweeting.”
The parents continue on that idea, but Rarity’s too consumed by a sinking feeling to complain to herself about it.
With an innocent obliviousness she may never grow out of, bless her soul, Sweetie sighs into her hand. “Aww, I’m gonna miss the twins. And the Cakes!”
“Oh, dear, don’t worry. They visit often! You won’t even notice they’re gone.”
Oh, Rarity’s heard that one before.
“Rarity! Are you busy?”
Never, really. “I’m always busy, Sweetie.”
Sweetie marches right up to the desk that Rarity is sat at. “Good: I need help.”
“Sweetie, honey, I hate to say it, but you would be better off consulting with Rainbow Dash about bright hair.”
“Not that! I already decided I’m going to bleach it.” As she says it, Rarity can’t help but think it’s the worst idea she’s had yet; the girl’s almost as pale as Rarity herself. “I want to learn to play the piano but it’s too big and my hands can’t reach all the keys properly.”
“Oh.” Rarity’s pleasantly surprised. Then, she thinks to doubt it, because surprises aren’t pleasant when you’re twenty-ish.
Still, Sweetie’s still young, so maybe that balances it out. “I remember when I started playing piano – granted, I was younger when I did, but in any case: it’s the same way for everyone who starts, darling. And I understand it’s not what you want to hear me say, but it’s always best to – “
“ – practice every day,” Sweetie drones over as Rarity says it. “I know, I know. I just though you had – I don’t know. Something else?”
“Well…play songs you like. You’ll enjoy practice more, and that will give you more motivation.” Rarity pauses. She herself took up piano because of all the romance and Jane Austin it inherently held. “Why this, all of a sudden?”
Sweetie makes a face, and for a moment Rarity’s bracing herself for a loud defensive answer. She’s surprised pleasantly (suspiciously) again when Sweetie sighs and sways her body. “Well, I’ll have to make new friends when I go to college – not that I’m going to stop talking to Scoots or Apple Bloom! I’m a better friend than you. But, we’re going to different schools so I’ll need to make new friends, too, and…I just thought piano would help.”
Her heart is in the right place. And Rarity’s not yet cynical enough or Rainbow Dash enough to tell Sweetie that friends fall apart when they’re not forced to see each other, so she cooes, “Aww, that’s cute, darling.”
Sweetie immediately stomps her foot. “No it’s not! I can’t go to college and talk about the stuff me and the others talk about, they’re gonna think I’m a kid, or something like that.”
Rarity smiles sympathetically. “Oh, Sweetie. Believe me, most people don’t have anything figured out in college. You’ve nothing to worry your pretty little head over.”
“Well, what about you?” Sweetie pulls a sour expression. “You were always dramatic in high school even though you acted all grown up and stuff, but then you went to college and now you drink coffee and have a job and talk less to people. How am I supposed to be that mature?”
“Its not, they – “ It’s a compliment, but Rarity isn’t about to let Sweetie believe that “ – you’re actually quite perceptive, actually. Why, remember—”
“No I’m not,” Sweetie cuts in, but in a mumble. She looks at her feet. “I wouldn’t fight with you all the time if I was.”
“Oh, Sweetie…” Rarity stands and takes both of Sweetie Belle’s hands in hers, and really just notices how close in height they are when she doesn’t need to crane her neck to look at her downcast eyes. “If I were mature, or a half-decent sister, then we wouldn’t argue as much – I should be a lot more patient than I am.”
Sweetie still doesn’t look at Rarity when she mumbles, “I think you’re a good sister. You still talk to me all the time, even if we’re arguing. Even Apple Bloom says she barely gets to talk to her sister anymore.”
Oh, wonderful; now Rarity has to passively ignore more complaints about Applejack. This must be what customer service is like. “Different strokes, dear. I still live in the same home as you.”
“But Rainbow Dash goes home and her parents—“
Rarity squeezes Sweetie’s hands gently. “You can’t think of everyone else’s situation and expect to find the answer to yours.”
The words echo in her own head, but Sweetie looks up at her before Rarity can think it over too much. “Okay, but even—okay. Fine. But still. I think…being grown up is hard.”
Rarity sucks in her cheek and hums as she thinks of something to say. Because, honestly? Even as the big sister, she hasn’t figured much out herself.
…she can say as much, can’t she? It doesn’t do much to repeat it to herself, after all. “Honestly, darling. I’ve hardly a clue how to do it myself.” Though she realises that that’s not much help, so the big sister in her steps up to add, “But in my personal opinion, I think…I think we’re meant to always be figuring it out, so to speak. Because we’re always growing.”
Rarity hasn’t flexed her spontaneity muscle for a while – second only to Pinkie Pie – so she understands it when Sweetie scrunches her face in thought and slowly says, “But then, how do we know we’re growing right? Or if we really are growing and not, um, un-growing?”
“Well.” Rarity takes a moment. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know?”
“I suppose I have to do a bit more growing up to figure it out.” Understatement of the year.
Sweetie Belle lets out a long, “Huuhhhh…?” as she wrestles with that.
Rarity can’t help but laugh. “Oh my, that’s exactly how I always feel about it.”
In normal Sweetie Belle fashion, she pulls her hands away and crosses them. “Well now I have to figure it out faster than you! Ugh!”
She really needs be loud about everything, mustn’t she? Just like Rarity herself must be melodramatic. “Oh, all this mine sister is, or else shall be.”
Poor Sweetie Belle; she’s only looked confused since she walked into the room. “Is that Shakespeare – what does that even mean? And didn’t you study psychology?”
“Darling, in the words of Rainbow Dash: I don’t know.”
“Seriously? What do you know?!”
Rarity drops her voice. “I know I’m proud of you. And that you’ll make a brilliant grown-up.”
“Y-yeah? Yeah, well — I’m proud of you too,” Sweetie admits, loud and begrudging. “That’s why I keep writing those comments, so everybody knows you’re, well, inspiring and crud…”
“Oh,” Rarity sighs and hugs Sweetie, who returns the it tightly. After a few moments of hair tickling her face, Rarity pulls away and says, “Remind me to take you with me the next time I need to refill on conditioner. If I know one thing, it’s when hair needs taking care of.”
“Sure!” Sweetie starts, then switches over to a piqued, “—fine.” Then, back again to an excited, “Can I go to the coffee shop with you and Dash?”
“No.” Absolutely out of the question. That would be sacrilegious.
“Fine, I get it. The place you guys met and fell in love, blah blah.” Sweetie waggles her fingers. “Well, if you ever need boyfriend, at least you can go to Fluttershy for help.”
“Wh—” Rarity’s speechless for a second, because frankly there’s no lie there. “Well at least I’ve had boyfriendsss.”
“All the boys at my school suck!”
“We went to the same school, Sweetie Belle!”
While she wouldn’t consider them friends, she’s definitely happy that, whatever sort of work relationship she and Soarin has, it’s one where they can openly criticise the smallest inconveniences.
“Ugh, no coffee again!” Soarin gripes, already popping off the machine’s filter basket. “See? Every time.”
“Only on mornings you’re in before me,” Rarity scoffs. She has half a mind to offer to help, but then she decides their not that close until Soarin offers to wash the dishes once.
A younger her would romanticise the idea of a person helping her with domestic chores. Now, she adds it to the mental what-if list of work she’d split with Rainbow and Sweetie were they to own a house together.
Soarin gives her a funny look with little regard to the fact that he’s cutting packaging with scissors blindly. “I always get in before you.”
“Well then, maybe you finish the coffee before I come for it.”
“No, I always change it. I’m a team player, unlike some Raritys.” He dumps the old coffee grounds out and empties the ones out of the package into the filter paper. “What time do you come in?”
“Eight, sharp.” At least, she would be, if the bus would come on time – which it has very little reason not to, given it has a total of maybe three stops across the whole town.
Soarin places the filter basket back in place and hits a switch on the coffee machine. “Wha—they have the interns come in that early? Geez, the newsletter delivery can wait an hour, I think.”
“Or go digital,” Rarity offers. It feels good to say out loud instead of through someone else’s tweet. “’Change with the times’ my arse.”
“Hah! Exactly.”
The conversation lulls a bit, giving way to the gentle whirring sounds of boiling and brewing. It gives Rarity space to watch the other employees walk in, hear the coffee machine, and immediately walk back out.
“For such bad coffee, it sure takes its time to brew,” Rarity comments. People watching at an office she hates is hardly worth her unspent time.
“Yeah. I wish a good coffee place would open up nearby.”
She could mention her coffee place, but of course that’s hers and Rainbow’s, and introducing someone to it would put her at risk of actually having to invite them the next time she goes.
Sweetie Belle can take a hard no as an answer; Rarity’s none too keen on giving Soarin reasons to associate her with Rarity B.
Not that she believes he’d be so quick put her on the same shelf; she’s just starting to understand that everyone has their poor habits to compensate proper outlets. Rarity complains anonymously online; Rainbow ignores everything she doesn’t believe she can change; Sweetie Belle blames Rarity.
And if it took befriending Soarin over bad business policies for her to see what his hang up is, who knows what even the CEO’s do to cope with the everyday. They could be even worse than her, which is a silly, laughable, encouraging thought indeed.
“By the way,” Soarin starts. “I don’t know what you’re doing lately, but there have been some more comments floating up on the company’s Social Media pages. We even got an email with a list of your accomplishments?” He ends that with a questioning but humoured look. “All the way from the north side, too. Anyway, I’ve been forwarding them off to your head so, hey, watch out for that.”
Oh, dear, Rarity thinks. She also mutters as much because she’s busy planning how to bust Rainbow’s parade to think of a better response.
The machine’s sudden stop leaves a palpable quiet in its place. Soarin goes to fill his cup up. “Wait, I didn’t mean it menacingly. I mean – maybe you’ll be promoted to Intern Master, or whatever is the next position.”
“Any other department?” Rarity asks bracingly.
“Nah. Once an intern, always an intern.”
Well, she shot her shot. She can take solace in at least having some good Rarity recognition.
“Anyways,” Soarin says as he tips his chin and cup towards her, “keep handing out those papers the way you do, I guess.”
While Rarity wants to mention she hasn’t much of a choice, she surprises herself by saying, “Good talk!”
Later that day, when Rarity’s is looking over address stickers for company letter stationary, that she starts to wonder how Rainbow in a letter all the way from the north city.
Looking through her old yearbook for no particular reason except that she’s tired of scrolling through her phone today, Rarity finds a photo of – some party, though the specific event escapes her.
It must have been a special one, because the dresses they’re wearing haunt Rarity like ghosts.
Her mind is blown thinking how much time she was able to dedicate to those – made them from scratch, specially selected the fabric – so much so that she spends the next half hour getting lost in her old sketches until she finally finds the original design prints for the gowns.
It takes another fifteen minutes for her to find the dress itself – hers, at least. She wonders if the other still have theirs. If she recalls correctly, Rainbow donated hers before getting an entire earful, but the others.
She ponders on it, but ultimately declines to ask them, or even post a photo of her dress. The mystery, the chase, is fun. The truth isn’t always.
But it would be a shame to do nothing now that its on her mind. So she removes the unfolded laundry that’s piled up on her mannequins – that only sometimes frighten her in the middle of the night; you’d think by now she’d be used to seeing the faceless statues, but alas – and carefully spreads her dress over it.
She may have forgotten the details, but – she thinks with a smirk as she finds a way to pin the dress oeuvre on the wall behind the mannequin – she remembers the determination, and the goal it led to.
It’s after dinner when they’re collectively leaving most of the cleaning to Rarity – which is unfair given she just came back from doing the exact same thing except for money – that Rarity sighs, exasperated, and comments, “Sweetie Belle, you never clean the salt shaker, it’s gross.”
“You know what’s gross? Complaining!” Sweetie snaps back. Then, cheerily, “But I still love you!”
Considering the whiplash she’s experiencing, Rarity doesn’t press on, but is distinctly reminded of Pinkie Pie. She further reserves the right to withhold a response of, ‘I love you, too’.
Frankly, Rarity only complains half as much—
Oh, well; that thought wouldn’t have been accurate, finished or not.
Maybe, if the music is going to face her, its about time she faced the music.
If she’s honest, she’s always been the nitpicking type. She’s had to be: fashion is an art that is only allowed to be beautiful – and that itself is decided by the scrutiny of others.
But at some point, that bled into the rest of her life–
Maybe? As Rarity ascends the stairs to the same room with slight rearrangements, Rarity begins to wonder if its simply what she branded it as before: a poor coping mechanism. What for, exactly, well.
Oh, it’s silly isn’t it? But obvious, if she lets herself sit down and think about it.
She begrudgingly does, curling up on her bed. It’s that early spring weather with the light evening air that’s easy to breathe as it drifts in through the open window.
The sort of weather that, in her last year of high school, she and Sunset would go late night biking in and stop by the only food joint in town that stayed open past ten.
And that’s just it, Rarity thinks, sighing. That’s the crux of the issue: that there are things she should be doing right now, but isn’t.
And it hasn’t got to do with her friends; she keeps up with them, if less than she would’ve liked to, and she’s realising quick it’s not a challenge for her to get out there and meet people.
But then what? She and Soarin have spent the entirety of their familiarity with each other criticizing the company. She circles back to the same problem.
“Rarity, you nitty little girl,” Rarity hums to herself. She really shouldn’t have waited this long to face the facts: she complains because she’s unsatisfied.
Not a ground-breaking discovery by any means – it wouldn’t take a degree in psychology to figure that out.
She feels unfulfilled – she was a magic-harnessing demon slayer in high school. She fought demons. In her down time, she made entire clothing lines, accessories and everything.
Now, she stands in stagnant waters that don’t ebb and flow; she’s common. Normal. Unglamorous, to her mild horror.
Rarity wants to blame the town. It’s the thing that’s swallowed her in its rigid roads and ways. But she was once a hero of the town – frankly, the bar is set so low she should have stepped over it by now.
At the end of the day, she might have let life pass her by quietly. She wanted to grow up, much in the same fashion as Sweetie – perhaps they’re sisters after all! – but when her love for life and the image of adulthood didn’t align naturally, she made excuses and let go small parts of herself until whatever was left fit on a paper résumé.
And maybe, in seeing that her friends were able to reach new heights and still stay the people she has always loved, she chose to vent instead of take action.
That dissatisfaction – a gnawing hunger that expected her roaring twenties to be thriving and spent finding herself – has led Rarity to a dreary routine of coffee, corporate internet, and complaining.
Well. No more.
She may be rushing into things, but spontaneity is her trigger and hope is her drive. She picks up her phone, calls Rainbow – three times, because that’s what it takes to get her to pick up – and demands they bike until past midnight.
A few minutes she calls back to change plans, because her father has informed her that Sweetie Belle owns the bike now, and Sweetie Belle informed her that the bike was in pieces when she received it, and now its just in more.
Ah, friction. Well, change is difficult like that. But Rarity will take it one step at a time.
“Naw, they change their hours,” Rainbow says later, when she and Rarity meet up a short walk from their homes. “They’re closed right now.”
“Oh.” Well, no one said this was going to be easy. One step at a time, short as they may be.
They continue on the sidewalk aimlessly. After the first turn, Rainbow asks, “Did you drag me out here because you were craving fries?”
Rarity wonders how much she say, and decides she could save the heart spill for a different time. “I just wanted to do something. Feels like we’re always doing the same two things every day, is all.”
Rainbow hums. Rarity’s a little distracted because the girl takes strides like it’s a sport. “Y’know, the weather’s pretty chill.” She grins in her brash way. “Wanna hit the old playground and see who can jump off the swings the highest.”
Rarity smiles, puts her hand on Rainbow’s shoulder gently, then pushes her down suddenly and sprints ahead, shouting, “Race you!”
Of course, even with the head start, Rarity expects to lose. But that’s fine; at the very least, she’s moving.
It’s a start – and it seems she has a friend to start with.
Three months later, Rarity can hardly say much has changed. Life goes as it normally does, because deeply engraved ruts are a bit difficult to climb out of, but she does have the spur-of-the-moment episode now ang again, and indulges it to her heart’s content.
But two months after that, around the time that Fluttershy has postponed her engagement party to, Rarity and Rainbow Dash are farther than thev’re ever been. Literally speaking, at least.
Sitting on the bumper beside Rarity, Rainbow rapidly taps her phone against her thigh. “Man, we have the worst luck.”
Rarity leans back on her hands and looks skyward. “I like to think there’s a reason for everything.”
“Yeah. And the reason for this is our bad luck.”
“There must be a lesson to be learned here.”
“Yeah, prob’ly. The lesson that we have a lot of bad luck.”
Rarity tosses Rainbow a sardonic glance. “Oh, darling. Try to look on the bright side.”
Rainbow matches Rarity’s look, then turns it on her phone as she wakes it up. “Fine. On the bright side, we met another, more successful Rarity. Who smashed our car because we have such bad luck, but look on the bright side, darling.”
Rarity squints. “What?”
“Yeah.” Rainbow shows Rarity her phone; on the screen is the photo of a driver’s license. “See? Rarity Bunny. Driving a somethin'-thousand dollar car right into ours.”
Rarity stares at the picture, then back at the car still firmly smashed in the trunk of Rainbow’s knock-off Cadillac. In the front seat screaming into her phone is an older woman in large shades and a banshee’s set of teeth.
Sighing, Rarity looks back at the drearily empty street in front of them. “Well, I suppose it’s as they say: this town wasn’t big enough for the two of us.”
“This place’s even smaller than ours,” Rainbow scoffs. “What’s a rich-ass woman like her doin’ here anyways.”
“Crushing dreams like cars.”
“Hah.”
They sit there idly, waiting for a tow truck. It’s midday and there aren’t any cars on the road as far as Rarity can see, which at least means they aren’t blocking traffic. Just a car wreck the occasional dog-walker can’t help but look at. Probably the most exciting they’ve seen all month.
“Hey, check it.”
Rarity blinks, not realising she had zoned out, and looks down at Rainbow’s phone. It takes her a moment to recognise herself in the strobe lights that aren’t enough exposure for the photo. “Oh – “
“ – automatic doors!” Rainbow finishes with her. They laugh as Rainbow zooms into herself, wearing goofy smile and pointing at the doors, then pans over Rarity mid-tiptoe with a finger over her lips. “Can’t believe we got away with that. Most exciting thing we did at seventeen.”
Rarity shakes her head but smiles. “We peaked too early. Ahead of our time.”
“Hella.” Rainbow stuffs her phone in her pocket, then falls back on the bumper with her hands behind her head. “I was looking for it the other day, and when I saw it, it got me thinking about what you said a while ago.”
Can’t she think about the things Rarity says when she’s saying them? “Honey, I’ve said many things and half the time even I’m not listening anymore.”
“I mean, yeah. But remember when you said we should buy a house and whatever?”
“Yes,” Rarity says. It’s probably the most honest she’s been all year, and she’s been trying.
“Well that’s a dumb idea. But you know what isn’t?” She hardly waits for Rarity’s input; just pauses long enough for Rarity to give her a withered glare. “Us opening a place with automatic doors.”
“What sort of place?”
Rainbow gives a stilted shrug. “Just a place with automatic doors.”
Rarity stares at her with a look dryer than her savings account. “No wonder you think my ideas are dumb. They’re too sensible for you to comprehend.”
Rainbow lightly kicks Rarity’s ankle. “Dude, I’m just saying. Like, it’s way more – what, fiscally? – responsible or whatever to open a shop or hangout place. Plus…automatic doors!”
Well, it would be, except – “We’ve seen how that sort of endeavor ends in our little hamlet.”
Rainbow shrugs again, but her voice betrays a small amount of determination that’s been absent since the days of high school soccer tournaments. “Yeah, we’ve seen all the ways it could go wrong, so we know better. And you have, like, “practical” business experience ‘n stuff. Or so I’ve read on Instagram.”
Rarity shifts her weight to one arm and uses the other to poke Rainbow’s arm, and decides to act none the wiser. She hasn’t chewed Rainbow out for that yet, it can wait another day. “Well, I’d love to, but – “
“That’s all we need.” Rainbow pushes herself up just a bit, her forearms on the bumper. “C’mon, think about it – actually, don’t think about it! Let’s just do something big for once – but also, like, possible. And fun. And, different.”
She shifts again; now, Rarity lies down, leaning on her side and facing Rainbow, watching her carefully, because hope has always been the most dangerous thing for people with bad luck. “There’s a lot involved with this sort of thing.”
“Yeah. So? We’ll take it one step at a time. It’ll be long term.” Rainbow’s gaze hardens. “It’s something we can work towards. Y’know…like, together.”
It’s just a spark in her eyes, but Rarity can almost see its future as a wildfire. And maybe that’s enough to light the end of the tunnel.
Rarity reaches for it, and brushes some red strands out of Dash’s eyes. “Well, that’s certainly one way to keep us trapped in that old town.”
“Eh, I don’t think we can leave.” Rainbow smirks. “See what happened when we tried this time?”
A long time goal. Something to aim for. Not the house she’s been idly dreaming about for the sake of occupying her mind – a compromise to ground her, keep her steady on her feet.
Or, as Rarity has lacked lately: a friend with a crazy plan that just might work.
“We can get Sweetie to work for us,” Rarity offers in jest; in doing so, she vaguely realises that Rainbow’s use of humour to handle a situation has rubbed off on her, and she has to admit she’s far better at it out of the two of them.
“Sure, and we can invite all our friends to the grand opening. Half of them won’t even come, I bet.”
“You mean Applejack?”
Rainbow scrunches her nose. “Dude, if she comes, I won’t.”
“But we’ll have coffee there!”
“I’ll just get some from our coffee place.”
“Where do you think I’m getting the coffee from?”
“Wh-Then what -- ?” She chokes on the question and chuckles instead. “Man, I could really go for some coffee right now. This is all your fault.”
“But of course.”
So they fall into easy banter there on the hood of Rainbow’s crumpled car, in their small little world that’s just far enough from everything else to ignore it when it’s easy too.
And while there’s a long road ahead of them and a hundred things they need to do – first thing being the hassle that is insurance claims – Rarity’s not complaining.
She’s hoping.