//------------------------------// // Chapter Two: Struck by Change // Story: Gracefully // by Jarvy Jared //------------------------------// “...And that’s why I’ve decided against allowing chickens into the meeting rooms. Prince Blueblood still hasn’t been able to remove all of the feathers!” Twilight Sparkle said this last part with a laugh. Her face showed a few stray sprinkles stuck to her muzzle, but she levitated over a napkin and wiped them away. Applejack whistled. “Shucks. The poor chicken farmer must be mortified! Did Blueblood call for his head?” “Of course he did. Luckily I was able to calm him down long enough for him to reconsider.” “Or,” Rainbow said, “you could just flat out deny his proposal, right? I mean, you’re the sovereign ruler of Equestria, and Blueblood isn’t really much of a prince.” “That’s true,” Twilight said, “but sometimes you just have to let him think he has some power. That way he doesn’t get in the way of the actual politics.” “Twilight Sparkle,” Pinkie said, with a mix of shock and awe in her voice. “Never did I think you’d be one to play cooky with the game of politics!” “You learn how after a bit. You’d learn, too, Pinkie, if you ever considered running for office.” She paused, then said, “On second thought, you probably shouldn’t.” They were, as they had been for the past five years, seated at their usual seat in Pony Joe’s Donut Shop. And as they had done for the past five years, they’d met with Twilight here, hugged, and after ordering a big helping of donuts, had begun with the usual festivities of catching up. Twilight had much to say, for somehow, in the course of the year, the nobles had much to be worried about. Key on their mind, to no one’s surprise, was the recent matrimony between Fluttershy and Discord—“Congratulations, again!” Twilight had said to the former, causing yet another blush but a happy smile to form. Yet the nobles’ worry about the marriage was not for any reason that they might have expected: rather, instead of being critical, they were almost tripping over their own hooves trying to earn the Spirit of Chaos’s favor. There was talk of pushing Discord into the political realm, talk which was squashed two weeks ago, when Discord made a surprise visit to Canterlot and ‘convinced’ his ‘ardent supporters’ to ‘turn the other cheek’. Discord’s words, there, not Twilight’s. Fluttershy had nodded at this, seemingly only surprised that Discord had bothered going. “He did say he was making a trip to Canterlot, but I didn’t think he was going to confront anypony over anything.” “Why not? It’s Discord,” Applejack said. “He’s got about as much pride as Rainbow.” In the midst of Rainbow’s “Hey!”, Fluttershy murmured, “Because he brought back milk and bread like I’d asked him, too.” They all laughed a little at that, before Twilight had launched into her current talk, that of the fiasco between Blueblood and a chicken farmer.  Rarity, sitting next to Twilight, watched and listened with a silent smile. It was good to see that, at the moment, Twilight seemed as relaxed as she could be. The first year after the Council had been established, she’d been nothing if under complete and total pressure; it had taken longer than expected for the Canterlot hierarchy to get used to a new ruler who was far younger than many of the elites. Rarity could still remember Twilight’s frazzled state and mane, the way that her hooves had taken slow steps towards the table before she’d plopped herself down in the chair and thanked the girls for coming. That might have been the most tired Rarity had seen Twilight, at least recently, so seeing her now full of good humor was a special relief.  The thought of tiredness, however, brought on an unfamiliar feeling in her. She looked across the table at Fluttershy, who was listening to Twilight talk. From that short distance, Rarity could not tell if the bags she had seen were from just exhaustion or if they were something more; indeed, she could not say if they were even there, much like that strand of hair that floated now in her thoughts like a half shard of memory. She still could not decide if what she had seen was just her own scattered thoughts, brought on by that morning’s discovery, influencing her perception.  “Well, you must be happy to hear about Blueblood’s antics, Rarity,” Twilight said, turning to her. Rarity met her gaze with a smile that she hoped masked her own murky thoughts. “Well, I wouldn’t go so far as to say that, Twilight, darling. At least, not publicly. But I will admit to feeling a certain amount of satisfaction to hear that he’s getting his comeuppance, one way or another.”  “Careful, Rarity,” Rainbow said, smirking. “You sound almost smug there.”  “A lady is not smug, Rainbow. She simply expresses a certain amount of—” “Smugness, yeah, I know.” Rainbow cackled, closing both her eyes and hitting a hoof against the table. Rarity also could not help but laugh.  Twilight went on: she had received a letter from Princess Celestia, or now just Celestia (“I still haven’t gotten used to that!”), who said that Luna had joined the mail delivery system for Silver Shoals; Spike was on a mission for Dragon Lord Ember, which was why he wasn’t here today with Twilight (“But he sends his regards!”); and more political melodrama that, frankly, sounded less like the nuanced world of royalty and more like an episode from some sitcom.  Then Twilight shook her head. “As much as I’d love to vent about all my princess duties, girls, you know that’s not what I’m here for.” Rarity let out a faux gasp. “Twilight Sparkle! You don’t mean to say that you’re here just to gossip?” “Of course not, Rarity. I want to catch up with everypony, that’s all.” Twilight winked at her. “But if that comes out to sounding like gossip, well…” “Ooh, ooh! Me! I wanna go first!” Pinkie said, waving her hoof in the air wildly. All eyes turned to her, and for some reason, she retracted her hoof and placed her two front ones together, giggling in what, Rarity could have sworn, was an undecidedly nervous manner. “Well… you girls remember Cheese Sandwich, right?” They affirmed. “Well, last weekend, he came up for a surprise visit, and, um, well—” She clenched her eyes shut and squeezed the last part out: “He asked me out and we're going on a date soon and I’m really excited and AAAAAAHHH!” All the girls gasped. “Pinkie! That’s wonderful!” Twilight exclaimed.  Pinkie nodded. “I was going to tell everypony on the train ride here, but then I wanted to make sure Twilight knew, and—” “Say no more, Pinkie,” Applejack offered. “Ah getcha. Besides, well, it ain’t like we weren’t expecting it.” “Yeah, AJ’s right,” Rainbow said. “You and he were kinda obvious. Took you long enough. Almost as long as Fluttershy, actually!” Everypony laughed, Twilight especially. Her laugh sounded young and lively, different than the one she’d given when she finished the story about Blueblood. This was the laugh of a young mare, in the prime of her life.  The last point was particularly important for Rarity, because, thanks to her eye for detail, she had seen how these last few years had been affecting Twilight. She may have been able to finally wrangle the nobles of Canterlot under her hoof, but that did not mean that the previous years of work and toil had not sunk themselves into her demeanor. The fact that she was laughing this loudly suggested she had finally found a moment of respite—a moment which, Rarity knew, Twilight would never willingly take. She had not lost her Canterlot roots, it would seem, though she’d never admit it; sometimes she could be as stubborn as Applejack, though this Rarity would never say. Thinking this, she looked over at Applejack, and privately noted how she, too, had changed. She still had a stubborn heart, of course, but now it seemed as though she had softened, become just a little more… well, Rarity didn’t want to say suggestible, but when she saw the way Applejack glanced at Rainbow… a mare saw things that her friends could not, after all. She was a seamstress, a designer. She could see the way things would turn out when the product was finished, the way the image would transform from a piece of mental possibility into a piece of realistic proportions.  Still, she had missed the signs that Pinkie and Cheese were planning on taking the next step, or at least taking the first one, in their relationship. A curious lack of insight on her part, when she had seen the passing glances that Discord and Fluttershy had been making, and their frequency, to the point where she’d even privately considered the exact day the question would be popped, and by whom. She had therefore been surprised by Pinkie’s reveal. Yet something in Pinkie, in saying this, seemed different. It wasn’t just that momentary bout of nervousness and shyness in her. Rarity couldn’t place it at first.  She kept quiet and, with that thought in mind, looked over at her pink friend while she went on and on about what Cheese had said. Nothing at first seemed different, and so Rarity wondered if she’d just been grasping out of the dark; but then, she noticed something. If it were any other pony, she probably would have unconsciously ignored it, but this was Pinkie, the most exuberant and lively and almost comically youthful pony she knew. Which was why the lines under her eyes, now that she saw them, stuck out like the wrong color of fabric.  Out of their entire group, Fluttershy might have been the second-best pony at picking up little details. Turning to her, Rarity almost asked—in a moment of personal weakness—if she had seen the lines. But her voice caught in her throat. Fluttershy, sitting next to her, allowed for a close inspection of her face. And what Rarity found were the same bags she’d seen on the train, the same lines that she’d thought she’d imagined. They were fainter, but there. In fact, now Rarity thought that Fluttershy’s coat, normally a rich butterscotch hue, appeared just a tad bit washed out. Her gaze snapped involuntarily onto Applejack and Rainbow, the most physically active. She frowned at what she saw. They did have bags. A lack of sleep, perhaps; but on Applejack’s forehead there was beginning to form a little series of lines not quite unlike the ones Granny Smith was known for, and her cheekbones were just a little more prominent, the skin starting to seep a little. And on Rainbow, even her well-toned form could not hide similar features, as though she had taken and copied them over from Applejack intentionally.  Rarity almost shook her head. Maybe her eyes were going—but no, she was sure they weren’t. Her optometrist assured her that she had at least another decade or so before she would start needing to wear glasses permanently. She squinted a little at Pinkie, just to make sure. The lines and faded coat were still there. They were there, and they were on Fluttershy, and on Applejack, and on Rainbow. She looked at Twilight. Her mouth moved, and her eyes were closed in delight, but no sound came out. Everything seemed muted, physically speaking: colors, sights, sounds, nothing there. Rarity tried to see the same signs on Twilight as she had seen on the others, searched each crook of her neck, each feature on her face, under her eyes. Yet nothing appeared. Twilight was as flawlessly young as ever. Once more, slowly, Rarity peered at her friends. She felt something cold splash in her stomach as she confirmed: the lines and wrinkles and hard edges existed. They were there, in plain view. On everypony except Twilight. Her mind flashed to the strand of gray hair. But whose? Her own? Or Fluttershy’s? Looking at her, she almost missed it, but yes; there, between the pink, peeked out a white rose of a lock. Rarity gasped, much louder than she’d meant to. Everypony turned to her, and her face became red. “Rarity?” Twilight asked. “Everything all right?” Rarity forced herself to cough. “Y-yes, dear, sorry! I just—inhaled a few sprinkles, that’s all” Then, hoping to divert the conversation away from her, she said, “But yes, congratulations, Pinkie. I do hope things work out great between you and Cheese.” It seemed to work. Everypony else expressed their agreement, in time for Rarity to recover herself.  Yet both Fluttershy and Twilight were quiet. Rarity could feel their eyes on her, but she tried not to show her discomfort. After another moment, they looked away, and it seemed as though they were satisfied with Rarity’s quick explanation. “In that case,” Twilight said, lifting one of the milkshakes up with her magic, “I’d like to propose a toast to Pinkie and Fluttershy. May you both enjoy a long and happy life together with your partners!” The toast multiplied across the table. Rarity chorused with them, a bit late. She was late not just because of her thoughts, but because through the toast, through Fluttershy’s blushing, she thought she caught sight of something silver streaking through the air in front of the pegasus. It vanished in an instant. But it was enough for Rarity to look around her when nopony else was watching, and see her friends now in a different light. *** Twilight walked them back to the train station afterwards. It was late, now, and she could not afford to tarry too long; no doubt a couple of stir-crazy nobles were pounding on the castle door, demanding that she raise the moon just three-quarters of an inch higher that night. She said this quite easily, which garnered a laugh from mostly everypony—save for Rarity, who lingered in the back of the group. She was lost in her own thoughts. This translated into her trot, slow and meandering. If the others called out to her, she did not notice.  I’m not imagining things, am I? Because that would be almost as bad as…  Rarity looked up just in time to see Twilight glancing back at her. Rarity instinctively ducked her head, focusing on the cobblestone path. The moon gleamed against the stone, reminding Rarity all too much of the color that had appeared in her hair that morning.  They were nearing the train station. Yet, a tugging in her heart seized Rarity. She simultaneously wanted to get on and also to stay back. For a moment she wrestled with trying to understand why, and then it hit her: getting on meant having to see up-close the age on her friends’ faces. But staying back meant another moment having to see nothing of that sort on Twilight’s.  Caught between these two differing thoughts, she came to a stop and blinked. Her friends grew closer to the station, but they, too, stopped, noting her distant presence. They turned, first Twilight, then Fluttershy, then the rest. “Rarity?” Twilight called.  Rarity suddenly felt very sick. She tried for a smile, and tried to explain herself, stepping forward; the ground wobbled, and she felt herself beginning to swoon. Twilight was there immediately, propping her up with her hooves, and Fluttershy balanced her other side. “Rarity,” Fluttershy said. “What is it?” “I… I’m not quite sure, dear. I just feel faint all of a sudden.” She licked her lips. “Maybe… perhaps it had something to do with that last milkshake I ate? What was in that thing, Twilight, do you know?” She tried again to smile, but what she saw frightened her. It wasn’t the fact that Twilight’s face showed clear and obvious concern; no, for that, Rarity loved her all the more. It was the perfect blankness under her eyes and over her cheeks that scared her, the way that age seemed to have magically been lifted off of her body. In Twilight’s eyes she tried to see her own face, but could not tell if any such lines had appeared on her own. She twisted just a bit while Twilight spoke, mind zoning out and unable to focus for a few seconds. She looked at Fluttershy, who was equally concerned; she regretted it immediately the reminder it brought to bear.  The other girls were starting to grow closer, their voices filled with concern. Rarity felt a strong desire to run. She couldn’t let them be near her. Not them and their starting-to-sag eyes. But, so thinking this, a great wash of guilt filled up inside of her.  She looked back at Twilight but could not read her face. She wondered if that was because her eyes were failing in that moment, or a result of the impossible youthfulness that Twilight exuded.  “Please,” Rarity murmured. Twilight stopped talking whatever it was she had been talking. Rarity lightly pushed off of her and Fluttershy and made a serious attempt to balance herself. Her legs seemed to steady themselves. “All right,” she said, and managed to look up at all of them. “I’m terribly sorry, dears. I’m not sure what came over me, but it seems to be passing now.” She smiled, but she also gritted her teeth, as though trying to force it to pass. Twilight placed a hoof on her. “Are you sure, Rarity? Dizzy spells are no joke.” “Have you had them before?” Fluttershy said. “I am quite sure, Twilight, don’t you worry. And no, Fluttershy, I don’t believe I have. Perhaps I’ve just been working too hard, that’s all.” “Wouldn’t be surprised there,” Applejack said. “You always tended to push yourself too far, Rarity.”  She meant it well, she knew; there wasn’t a trace of malice in her eyes. But Rarity became hyper-aware of how her orange coat washed away in the night. Did Applejack notice? No, of course she didn’t. And Rainbow wouldn’t have noticed hers or her own. Nor Pinkie Pie. Nor Twilight, nor Fluttershy. It had to be her. It always had to be her.  “Do you think you can get on the train?” Twilight said quietly. “I think so.” Rarity closed her eyes, opened them again, and let out a strained breath. “Yes. I believe so, yes.”  Twilight remained watchful, and Rarity could not bring herself to share her gaze. She felt Fluttershy’s hoof and how it had not once left her side, and while she wanted more than anything to flash them both a grateful smile, all she could do was raise her head and stare straight ahead, so that none were in her line of vision. Resolute, she walked forward, trying to appear strong again. “It was good seeing you again, Twilight,” she said, but there was a buzzing noise in her ears. Her voice sounded small to her. Her thoughts, on the other hand, were large and momentous, and as she crossed the station back onto the train, her friends slowly following behind, these thoughts pursued her just the same.  As Rarity stepped onto the coach, she caught one last look at Twilight. She stood in the middle of the street, watching them, and while one hoof was raised in a happy farewell, her face showed the immeasurable signs of sadness and confusion. “It was good seeing you,” Rarity murmured again. I just wish I hadn’t had the misfortune of seeing.  Rarity lowered her head, so that none could see her tears.