Another twilight, another dream, another blushing Twilight. Overnight – each night – I’m caught, red-hoofed, red-cheeked, and giddy.
One finds authenticity and vulnerability in masses in the world of dreams, a world of creation unimpeded by reason or reality. The creative dreamscape I exploited mercilessly during my teenage years, when I unfailingly kept my notebook on my bedside stand. If fashion – or nature – called past midnight, my dreamy designs (or dreamy Prince Charming) would be accessible within my short-term overnight memory, and I was ever eager to copy down the fabulousity conjured in my mind.
Now, passive dream journaling is useful in and of itself, but in my adolescence in a quasi-religious ritual, I set my alarm before bed for 3 a.m., gambling my health in hope of awakening to peak inspiration. As a filly just months past her cuteciñera, the lure of creativity to an artist was matched only by her day-to-day struggles with a cruel world and herself. Silly or heartbreaking, the decision was hers, and I cannot blame the poor filly for the choices she made – they are, after all, my own.
Thus 3 a.m. it was, and lacking good fortune to gamble, there was no risk, only rewards. And how rewarding it was! My creative output those nights was magnificent, well-worth the teensy trade-off of a bleary-eyed daytime.
I confess I might have appreciated the bleary-eyed daytime as well.
Sleep deprivation numbs the senses - and the emotions.
My parents forbade my nocturnal practice, but I was fourteen, and they were my parents. What did they know, anyway? The best dresses from the bottomless depths of my imagination, the occasional lucid dream filled with foreign happiness, love, and freedom?
So what if it brought me years of dark circles under my eyes? ’Twas nothing a daily dose of concealer couldn’t fix.
And I do not just mean make-up.
Despite the oscillating turmoil of the years, as I grew older I grew happier, healthier, whole. Mostly. By the time I opened Carousel Boutique, I had all but quit my nighttime ritual; in recent years, my dream memory has regressed to infant levels. To tell the truth, the only dreams I remember these days are those which are truly unforgettable.
So why in Equestria can’t I forget my dreams of Princess Twilight Sparkle?
Yes, plural “dreams”, of none other than Princess Twilight Sparkle herself. As in, the Princess Twilight. Sparkle. As in, oh dresses, Twilight Sparkle Twilight Sparkle Twilight Sparkle!
My stars, I really am hopeless.
Even her name tastes sweeter than wedding cake.
There’s a thought. If I ever share… Celestia so help me.
Lost in myself, I brought my hoof to my face, rubbed the sleep from my eyes, and rose from bed to waddle over to my calendar. Grabbing a pen in my telekinesis, I crossed off yesterday on the calendar. A smile unfolded upon my lips as I read the only item on the day’s schedule:
9 a.m. - 10 a.m.: Tea with Twilight, here
Cognizant of the sharp time constraints, I squealed and proceeded to spend a mere two-and-a-half hours trapped inside the overheating chamber formerly known as “Rarity’s washroom”, all alone with my dazzling collection of dozens of beauty products.
An unforgettable lesson of my youth is that there is a price to beauty. Perhaps it is free to wonders like Twilight, but for me, beauty requires sacrifice, for a beautiful lady must present herself to her caballero.
My past dream flashed in my mind’s eye, details fading but a sweet feminine lavender aroma infused in my memory, accompanying a tranquil warmth spreading through me. Infatuation flooding my sense, I giggled as I rubbed a layer of foundation across my face.
Correction: single or not, a beautiful lady must present herself for her princesa.
A few steamy hours later – no, do not look at me like that, I meant that literally – never mind, do over.
Hi, my name’s Rarity, enchantée.
After two and a half hours beautifying myself in the humid washroom, I emerged to the heart of Carousel Boutique looking perfectly feminine and perfectly beautiful, as I must be for myself – and, fine, for her. I trotted over to the kitchen, put a pot of water on the stove to boil, and picked out my finest tea – an herbal infusion imported from Manehattan.
When all was said in done, the day was still young. I must have beat my own record, finishing daily beautification with I glanced over the clock – five minutes to spare!
Five minutes? Oh, dear. Five minutes. As in, it was 8:55 a.m., and in five, four, three, two short minutes, there would be a rap rap at the door, and then there would be a certain someone at my door. My stomach backflipped. squeamish, in the stomach region. Not that I was anxious.
But why shouldn’t I be? Twilight Sparkle was coming.
Twilight Sparkle was late.
Twilight Sparkle was never late. Twilight Sparkle was meeting Rarity.
Twilight Sparkle was late meeting Rarity. Twilight Sparkle was never late meeting Rarity.
Twilight Sparkle must have a reason for being late to meet Rarity.
What in Equestria could I have done to upset her so?
Not that I’ve ever done anything to upset her so, except for that time with the rock, and that time with the– oh, dear, oh dears, I definitely must have done something to upset the poor mare.
Out of all the things I could have done, this was the worst! Possible! Thing!
Of course, I didn’t have the foggiest idea what I might have done, but if she was late by – one minute – there must have been a legitimate reason, and I must have been the culprit.
One minute. I trotted towards the door in anxious anticipation, but then perhaps that would be too forward? I would never want the poor mare to think I suffered any trepidation whatsoever induced by the minor hiccup in her scheduling. No, I was one-hundred percent fine with the situation, and I needed neither pity nor apology.
I retreated to my work room. Play it cool, Rarity, play it cool. I sat down at the nearest desk and placed my hoof on the sewing machine for plausible deniability. If she barged in, I would be sewing and therefore clearly not worrying about her absence.
I blinked. Though I imitated, I lacked fabric or a design, a panicked charade.
9:02 a.m. Twilight was scheduled for 9 a.m., sharp. Indeed, Princess Twilight Sparkle was two minutes late, a phenomenon wholly incomprehensible to ponykind. Of course, the sharp wasn’t stated, but our meet-up was certainly not 9 a.m. flat. I suppose technically “flat” would be earlier than “sharp”. My fault for daring to use a metaphor.
9:03 a.m, sitting at an empty sewing machine, not spiraling in self-destructive thoughts.
9:04 a.m., and only a minute later it was – can you believe it? – 9:05 a.m. Who was there in Carousel Boutique? Absolutely nopony except for Rarity.
But there was nothing to panic about.
I was not panicking.
I was not anxious.
I was worried.
Worried for her sake, of course, because as her friend, I worried that she might not be okay.
But I could not be worried.
I was Lady Rarity, and ladies need not the company of others to be complete.
I might need a stallion, but this was not the time for internalized homophobia, Rarity!
No, you are Rarity Belle, and you need neither another lady nor a stallion, despite wishing for Twilight’s presence.
No, you are completely normal.
Because completely normal people have to assuage their own fears in the second person.
Dear princesses, dear Princess. 9:06 a.m., and nopony at the door.
I could not bear to sit. What would the poor dear think of me at a sewing machine with manescara down my cheek?
Six minutes late. Six minutes is no longer fashionably late; it is simply late.
Thus I paced, circling the floor to distract from the ticking minute hand. Yet bizarrely, I heard a ring.
I darted, paused to collect my breath, and swung open the door. I waved, first to her and then inside towards my living room, and nonchalantly exclaimed, “Oh, hi, Twilight! I wasn’t expecting you to come so early! What’s the special ocassion?”
Twilight looked at me like I was a hydra, bearing a warm grin. “What do you mean? I would never miss weekly tea with one of my best friends!”
“Oh!” I beamed. “Is that so?”
“Of course!” Twilight smiled, though a ray of concern flickered across her face.
“Right, of course!” Hollow reverberations of her words bounced off my inner walls. “Come in, tea should be ready.”
She obeyed, wearing a pure smile, concern washed away and replaced with her angelic – nevermind. “I’m glad to be here.”
“Ah?” I closed the door behind her. “I’m really glad you’re here too.” That was a perfectly normal declaration, something normal platonic friends say to normal platonic friends when they don’t have feelings for one another. “You’re a good friend,” I added automatically.
She smiled at me, that smile that melts my heart into rainbows. “You’re a goof friend too, Rarity.”
“A goof friend?” I humoured her.
“A good friend.” She corrected, and I giggled. “Equestrian is hard.”
“Sans blague!” I flashed a smile, and she giggled. Many ponies think falling in love is a totalizing obsession.
But no: it’s the little things that get you. The jokes. The giggles. The hugs.
The little raindrops of affection, dripping tap water into your stream of consciousness until you are pure.
I trotted into the kitchen, Twilight beside. “Tell me about your week.” Small talk served as a small distraction from the smell of Twilight Sparkle in the air. Perfume? Perhaps just her smell? Sweet lavender and the aura of kindness? Don’t ask what kindness smells like – spoiler: the answer is Twilight Sparkle.
“Hmm…” She trailed off awkwardly, contemplative. “I had an important meeting with Princess Luna yesterday morning. In a manner of speaking” She bit her lip.
“Ah? A meeting to discuss what?”
“Oh,” she mumbled. “Politics. The fate of Equestria. My friendship studies. Princess things.”
“Why, princess things? I never would have guessed!” Within the kitchen, I beckoned for Twilight to take a seat at the kitchen table, while I approached the stove top to pour two cups of water and some tea.
Twilight sat. “Yup, princess things. With Princess Luna! Since we’re both princesses!”
I was scooping tea into Twilight’s cup when understanding hit. I turned to face her and deadpanned, “Twilight. Princess Luna.”
“Yes?”
“Yesterday morning.”
“…Yes?”
“Do you mean to tell me that you, Twilight Sparkle, Princess of Friendship, future monarch of Equestria slept in?”
Twilight blushed. “It was Friday, Rarity! I was up late on Thursday on a telepresence meeting on the treaty negotiations with Seaquestria. It was important business, and I had no choice but to stay up late!”
I smirked, poking fun. “Yeah? Because you were too busy reading the new Daring Do release?”
“Because of timezones, Rarity.” She sunk into her chair. “And also Daring Do.”
“Ah-ha!” I finished preparing tea and brought the pair of cups over to the table with my magic, placing one in front of my dearest and one in front of myself. “Case closed!”
Twilight groaned. “I couldn’t go to sleep without knowing whether Caballeron would–” I clinked my cup against hers with magic, bearing a sympathetic smile. “Never mind.”
“I rest my case.” I grinned. “I just like seeing you flustered.”
“Rarity!”
I giggled at her escalated volume. “As I stated, I rest my case.”
“Ugh,” Twilight rolled her eyes, glowing. She reached out a hoof – was she about to…? – and booped me on the snout.
Her warmth inundated me from muzzle to hoof.
Her.
Me.
..At least, her hoof and my nose.
I just. Twilight. I–
Oh dear.
No, oh dear.
I just–
I simply cannot take it anymore. All of these dreadful relationships dynamics, being private! professional! platonic! Inside me her smile rages, yet outside, there is neither affection nor love nor dream.
If only it weren’t so unladylike.
No. No, my Twilightian infatuation is stronger than dated norms. I’m in love with the princess, and I have a right to tell her.
I was fine before Twilight walked into my life. Forget the sleepless adolescent nights, the years of jeering, the therapy bringing me towards a light I never saw.
My troubles have nothing to do with Twilight.
The silver lining of rock bottom is that there’s only up.
Fidgeting with my tea cup, I asked, “Hey, Twilight?”
“Mm?”
“Could we… reverse roles? I need romantic help with someone who caught my eye.” I twirled a lock of my mane. “I was hoping you could listen and give some much-appreciated advice?”
Twilight creased her brow. “What do I know about romance? My only experience was dating a stallion I wasn’t even attracted to, just for the science.”
I blinked. “Twilight Sparkle 1, Rarity 0”.
“Right, yes, ahem…! I still don’t think I can help much,” she trailed off, opening her mouth as if to continue speaking but without any words coming out.
“Pleeeeeease…?”
She sighed. “I suppose I can do my best for one of my closest friends!” She reached out her hoof, and I gleefully took hold. She continued with a quick squeeze of my hoof, sending a jolt. “You know you can tell me anything, Rarity.”
I shivered. “It’s cold in here, hmm?” I mumbled in a lie even I wouldn’t believe, though Twilight shrugged. Shrugged adorably. I’m not saying naïveté is cute, but she certainly is.
I stared at the boutique floor. “I have a crush on…”
She giggled at me. “C’mon, who’s the lucky stallion?”
I clutched my chest in my hoof, bulging eyes and a look over complete exasperation masking my muzzle. “Stallion? Who said anything about a stallion?! My, my, Twilight, I thought so much better of you!” I struck my forehead with the back of my hoof, tilting back my head as I scoffed, “Assumptions about a pony’s orientation are simply out of mode, darling.”
Twilight rolled her eyes playfully. “I was not assuming! Every time we have ever talked about romance, it’s always been about Prince Charming!”
I lowered my hoof and let my exasperation fall into a teasing smirk. “I know.”
She clicked her tongue. “No theatrics necessary, huh?”
My eyebrows turned in on her, a vicious frown repeating, “No theatrics necessary? Who do you think I am, but Rareté Belle, la plus dramatique de toute Equestrie!” I allowed my frown to invert, creating a comic juxtaposition of a loving smile with evil eyes. Nothing less would suit me, for her.
She nodded, smiling. “Yeah, her! And it’s still Equestria in French, not Equestrie.”
Absorbed in the grave I dug for myself, I lamented, “Alas, who said anything about Equestria? No, I am the most dramatique mare in Equestrie.” I nodded curtly, evidently proud of the fact. “I am, of course, the only mare in Equestrie.”
“Uh-huh.” Twilight shook her head warmly. “So… your crush…?”
“Ah!” I exclaimed, a little too loudly. Play it cool. “Yes, well, she is a truly exquisite mare and an incredible friend.” I lost myself into eyes interlocked with my beloved. “She is kind beyond all recognition, caring even about total strangers and with an almost magical loyalty to her friends. She’s crazy smart, but it’s not in an uncomfortable way. Intelligence aside, she is a wonderful pony and wonderful friend; every day, she makes me want to be a better mare, for me, for her, for the world. She always inspires me, artistically and intrinsically, a muse I’m blessed beyond measure to have in my life. And most of all…” I found a grin tucking at my lips with a hint of a flush overtaking my cheeks. “She always manages to make me smile. I confess sometimes our conversations can become rather strange, but she has an uncanny knack to bring me joy unparalleled even by favourite romance novels.”
Throughout my unsolicited spiel about the most wonderful mare I had ever known who by the way was sitting right across from me and held my hoof literally minutes ago, Twilight nodded, flashing the ocassional smile of affirmation. As I finished my monologue, she clapped her hooves, vicariously excited for my mysterious love interest du jour. “Aww, Rarity, she sounds wonderful! Really, I’m happy for you.”
Then in an emotional turn I will never forget until the day I die, Twilight turned downcast, I tell you, that I had a crush. There were only two possible explanations, and one of them hinged on Twilight being an undercover changeling feeding on my love for her.
The other is that my feelings were… reciprocated? At least, a little bit?
Or – oh, no. She clearly knew I was talking about her, and if her feelings were reciprocated, she ought to be delighted! That she knew I was talking about her of all ponies, yet she still looked downcast – oh, no, this could not end well.
She mumbled, “Thank you for telling me.”
“What’s the matter?” I prodded.
“Nothing.” Short. Clipped. Evasive. Now Twilight, that sort of response might work on other ponies, but it shan’t work on moi, for I am the master of drama, and you are my puppet– too far? Okay.
I frowned. “I don’t mean to pry” – I did – “but really, what’s up?”
Twilight squirmed around. “I don’t know. I’m really happy for you, Rarity. It’s nothing.”
“Nothing?”
“Just, I don’t know.” She sighed, frowning, head turned towards the floor. Quietly, she continued, “I’m not one to give advice, but you should definitely ask out Pinkie Pie.”
Pinkie Pie, of all ponies? Pinkie Pie?
Dear Princesses.
She turned her head up back to face me, a little pain straining her smile, but nevertheless proceeded warmly. “I’m really happy for you,” she repeated. “I’m sure Pinkie feels the same about you too. If she makes you that happy, it’s worth it to tell her.” She collected her wisdom. “Even if she doesn’t feel the same about you, it’s still worth it.” Weakly, she told me, with an uptilt in her voice as if she were asking me, “There’s never anything wrong with complimenting your friends or reminding me them you care about them?”
“Sure, um, right, yeah, um, okay.” I unleashed a torrent of empty interjections, no more substance to the words than remained speaking them in my heart. “Pinkie Pie.”
December silence filled the room, chilling the ambiance and freezing my heart.
At once, I coughed. “So…” I mumbled, eager to rekindle the flame lest the rose of my affection became a frosted flower. I allowed her words to settle into my soul, however off the mark they proved to be. Pinkie Pie, huh? A wonderful friend, impossibly intelligent, loyal and kind to the core, and above all someone who makes me smile?
Pinkie Pie. I do concede those attributes could multiple of my friends – some images of one particular friend popped into mind. Am I really so subtle that… Pinkie Pie?
Very well. If I didn’t find it so adorable, I might frown at her cluelessness.
“Mm…” Twilight mumbled.
Well. If asking indirectly won’t work, strategy #2.
“Really, darling, what ever is the matter? I’m positively worried!” I sighed. “Please, Twilight, tell me what you’re thinking about. I promise I won’t judge; I just need to know.”
“No…” she frowned, looking a little spacey.
“Please?”
“Um…”
“Tell me”
Twilight bit her lip, staring off then closing her eyes. “I don’t know. It just is so weird to me that you’re dating, you know?” As the gravity of her words sunk in, she quickly interjected, “Not that it’s weird that you’re dating! Nothing wrong with dating, of course. Or you doing it…” I noticed a trace of a blush as she recomposed herself.
Her words echoed my thoughts the day she and Hooves became an item. I felt a strange chill run inside me.
But dating? “I’m not dating.”
“Yeah,” Twilight nodded, then exclaimed with enthusiasm, “But it sounds like you’re about to be!” She raised her eyebrows either in excitement or seduction – I honestly couldn’t tell.
Slowly her overeager countenance drooped and she confessed, “I don’t know why that’s weird to me.” A moment’s pause. Her eyes sprung open, and even with distance, I could see the throbbing of her blood pulsing through her veins – anxiety in its rawest form. To see her in that state at all broke my heart once. To realize I was unintentionally the culprit broke it twice. Panicked, she unleashed a torrent as heartbreaking for me to hear as it was painful for her to say. “Oh no, oh no, oh no, oh no! Ponyfeathers! Princesses above! No!”
“Twilight…”
“Just, ponyfeathers, no, that’s terrible, stop it, brain–”
“Twilight, what’s going on?” I interrupted. Watching her spiral in pain was agonizing. What came next, perhaps, was worse.
“Rarity, what if I subconsciously have issue about you being t–”
There it was. The magic t-word. The five letters that have single-hoofedly terminated my love life and dominated my existence for years. I shushed her before she could pronounce it – yes, I realize my issues with myself stem far deeper than I am willing to admit to in therapy. I’m fine.
Well, no, I’m not fine. But I don’t really care.
“Twilight Sparkle, do you have issues with me being trans?”
She was visibly taken aback by the question. “What? Of course not. That’s insane; you’re my best friend!”
A warm breeze overtook me from within, bringing forth a soft smile. “I thought not.” Her words sunk into my soul. Of course not. Best friend.
Best friend.
“Did you say best friend?” I asked calmly, a trace of desperation straggling in my voice laced by an almost friendly accusation.
“…Yes. You’re my best friend.”
Awkward silence filled the space.
Awkward silence I broke with an awkward question. “If I may note, darling, you seemed uncomfortable with the idea of me dating.” I let her mull over information with which we were well-acquainted by this point in the awkwardness, an awkwardness I only magnified with the question filling each of our minds. “Pardon the blunt question, but what is the matter?”
Twilight shifted awkwardly in her chair, shrugging. “I don’t know,” she admitted, and I wasn’t sure if I should believe her.
Yet she was a scientist. If I asked, she would have me “prove from axioms” – whatever that means – or experiment!
I racked my brain for snippets from her scientific lectures, though usually when she spoke, I was more focused on the chemistry than the physics. Nevertheless, her tangents on the scientific method could prove romantically useful.
As if I needed more reasons to be wholly smitten with the mare.
Pressing on. Step 1, hypothesis: Twilight reciprocates my feelings for her.
Step 2, 3, 4, I’m afraid I might have been a little too focused on Twilight to absorb the details of the lecture.
Thus, let us proceed to step 5: experiment!
I covered my mouth with my hoof to stifle a cough. “Hmm, could I ask a hypothetical question?”
“Sure.”
“What if I told you, hypothetically, the pony I had a crush on… was you?”
Twilight curled her lip inwards ever so slightly into her tooth, her cheeks subtly ruddying. “Umm…” She mumbled – I do have that effect on ponies. “I’d… I’m not sure. Time Turner asked me out rather bluntly, so I’ve never had anyone tell me that before.” I watched her intently as she gathered her thoughts, her eyes drifting in disparate directions, the look of a mare lost on the streets of a foreign metropolis, despite sitting immobile in my familiar presence.
At once, she clapped her hooves. “Oh! I’m sure I have a book somewhere with advice on what I would do then!” She set down her tea cup on the table, grabbing her saddle bag and rising. “To the library!”
“No, no, no, no!” I blurted. A beat, and I softened it. “That’s quite alright, darling.” I did have an idea on how to proceed, but was it too forward? Too risqué? Too dramatic?
Ah, yes, no, and no such thing respectively. “Twilight.” I hesitated. “What if hypothetically, I took your advice to ask out the lucky mare? That is, what if I asked you out?”
A magic incantation if I’ve ever cast one, for she was my enchanted princess. Stars, if she wasn’t blushing before, you’d have to shut your eyes not to notice now. Meekly, embarassed even, she replied. “I’d say yes.”
Isn’t that progress? I daresay that is evidence in favour of my hypothesis. Subject #1, affirmative.
I may or may not have slipped the teensiest giggle, and I may or may not have smirked ever so slightly. “Well, then,” I declared. “Twilight Sparkle, you are my best friend in all of Equestria. You are certainly the most wonderful pony I have ever had the pleasure of making an acquaintenance. I am thoroughly enamored by you, and to tell you the truth, I believe I have been for many moons now. Everything I said about my best friend a few minutes ago? Every sentence, every word, every syllable is about you, ma chère. For as much as I love hours spent on romance novels by Greyscale Quill… there is no minute so magical as one by your side.”
I smiled awkwardly, hesitating. But my conformance to heteronormative Canterlot society was already violated; I had nothing to lose, did I? “So, Princess Twilight Sparkle, would you like to go on a date with me?”
Oh, the thousands of bits I would pay for a picture of the look on her muzzle! The joy, the fear, the wonder.
Suddenly preoccupied with the intricasies of the Carousel Boutique’s contemporary architecture, her eyes gazing at literally every part of the room except for moi, she mumbled – whispered even. “Um… Hypothetically… Wow, Rarity… I… Wow, thank you. I… Huh.”
Progress? Progress, I dare say.
Pushing my luck, I prodded, “Well?”
She closed her eyes and sighed. She hesitated, trepidation evident, but after a moment of peace to collect herself, she whispered the magic word. “…Yeah.”
She said yes?
She said yes!
Oh my princesses, the princess said yes!
I could have sworn I heard chirping bells of Hearth’s Warming Eve sounding within me, rubies and sapphires glistening in the sunlight of my heart. There were yelps and squees and honey and bees. A perfect moment with a perfect mare.
But such emotional displays were unbecoming of a lady, heterosexual or otherwise. And I choose otherwise.
Squeeing within, stoicism ruled my countenace. I threw a curt nod in Twilight’s direction, a passive agreement, and that would be all.
Unfortunately, Twilight did snap back to reality. “Wait. Is this still hypothetical?” Clearly alarmed, she grumbled, “Mierda! I was right about Pinkie Pie, wasn’t I?” I didn’t have the heart to respond, even non-verbally, so I did nought but stoically stare. Not that I enjoyed seeing her flustered – I did – but still.
She rubbed her eye with her hoof. A bit spacey, in a placated but dejected tone, she said, “I’m really happy for you and Pinkie. You deserve her.”
Oh. Oh my. She seriously thought there could be another mare in Equestria who could replace her golden hold on my heart. As if my hints large enough to crush cities weren’t enough to get the message through? Faced with the evidence, I reached a conclusion, and proceeded according to the only coarse of action known to rational ponykind:
I facehoofed.
I facehoofed, three times, in succession, acutely aware that Twilight flinched on each beat, yet nevertheless continuing lest my meaning be lost.
“You really don’t know, do you?” I quipped.
“Know what?” Twilight furrowed her brow, though I believe I caught a glimmer of hope streaking her eyes. Or perhaps that was my own hope, with my Declaration of Enamoration flying in the open air. “Oh.”
“Oh” was all she said. “Oh” was that one single syllable that consumed my existence. It could have been an “Oh, you’re such a drama queen, Rarity”, or “Oh, you really did mean Pinkie Pie all along”, or “Oh, you must have been talking about Fluttershy”.
Or it could have been an “Oh, you were talking about me.”
And I was, Twilight Sparkle.
I pinkie-promise I was.