Gracefully

by Jarvy Jared


Chapter Three: See and Believe

Was Rarity a vain pony? She would be lying if she said no. She knew vanity, knew what it could do to a pony, knew she suffered from it perhaps more than anypony else. After all, she worked tirelessly to achieve beauty both inward and outward. The idea worked its way into her own philosophy when it came to her dresses, too, such that Coco Pommel once remarked that Rarity had the ability to see the inner beauty of even the ugliest material. 

Vanity, Rarity knew, was but the somewhat heavier counterpart to its near-cousin, which had no single word attributed to it but which could be described as, simply, the confidence of personal appearance. It was not something made solely for mares to worry over. Everypony had it: mares, stallions, fillies, colts, dragons, griffons, any creature with eyes and ears, with even the remotest sense of the aesthetic, knew what it meant to be beautiful, and to want to be assured of one’s own beauty. But just as arrogance was the heavy counterpart to pride, and stubbornness to confidence, insensitivity to laughter, and obsequiousness to kindness, vanity was difficult to weigh a careful balance against itself. The scales were finicky. They would dip one way or the other, and unless you were especially self-aware, you would not notice you had become a vain queen until it was too late.

Her line of work entailed a certain level of exposure into the realm of the vain, of course, but it gave her the insight needed to allow her a good level of distance from it. Vanity was necessary in small amounts, she believed. Too much and you were too self-centered. Too little and then you would be doing yourself a disservice. Balance—that was what it all came down to. Dressmaking, spell casting, animal caretaking, apple farming, cloud rearing, party planning—if derived far enough, then you would discover that balance was the key ingredient to it all. 

Rarity knew this, and therefore knew the importance of keeping oneself balanced at all times, both physically and mentally—perhaps the latter more so than the former. She was of the mindset that if the mental world was suddenly upheaved, then such an upheaval would translate catastrophically—in her head, this word came with italics, bold, and underlined flair—towards the physical world. And the opposite was true, though perhaps to a lesser extent. Really, she was no psychologist, but based on her musings alone, she wondered if perhaps that was all there was to it. Balance, balance, balance! A healthy pony was a balanced pony, and a balanced pony was a happy pony. Balance, balance, balance—

“Pardon me, Rarity, but you’ve not said a word. Is something wrong?”

“Oh!” Rarity gasped. At once she took leave of her reprieve and realized where she stood: in the middle of her Boutique, outfitting, who else, but Mayor Mare? 

“Oh, heavens!” Rarity bowed her head. “I am so sorry, Mayor Mare. I’m afraid I was slipping into thought again.”

“It’s quite all right, Rarity,” Mayor Mare responded kindly. “I was just wondering what your thoughts were on my selection.”

Rarity nodded, and asked her to show off her right side for a moment. They were standing in front of a now-naked mannequin, and Mayor Mare wore the mannequin’s clothes under her jade ascot and white collar. It was one of Rarity’s earlier designs for the summer season which had yet to be bought, and which she had been considering sprucing up a bit just as Mayor Mare came in, asking for, of course, a dress-fitting session. There was a gala coming up, albeit not the Grand Galloping kind, and who better to ask but Rarity for the right dress for the occasion?

Of course Rarity had been perfectly willing to help. But, unfortunately, her mind had trailed into thinking about vanity and the nature of balance. This was yet the next in a long stream of curious thoughts which had been plaguing her ever since that trip to Canterlot a week ago, brought on, no doubt, by what she had seen. She had tried to forget it, but for some reason, the implications disturbed her enough that no thought could just up and leave. 

Since then, she had been untrusting of her own sight. Or unwilling. Either way, she had reason to believe her vision was beginning to compromise, and if that was the case, well, that would explain away what she had seen. Or so she hoped.

“So? What do you think?” Mayor Mare asked.

Rarity tilted her head, frowning. “Hmm. Well, it certainly does work with your ascot, but I’m assuming you’ll need something a little more dazzling for the gala.”

“Yes, that’s right.” She described what she would be wearing as accompaniment, and Rarity guided her over to the front window, where sunlit dresses stood against the pale floor. She had Mayor Mare try the dresses on, turning her slowly in the circle of light pooling down through the windows. Rarity could not help but notice the strange way her silver mane caught that light, in the same way that it had at the picnic. And that was the thing, it was only strange: Rarity could not find any other word to describe it.

“Rarity,” Mayor Mare called. “You’re doing it again. Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Wha—Oh! Mayor Mare! I… That is…”

“You’re clearly not yourself. What’s on your mind?”

Rarity swallowed. Mayor Mare looked at her with such kind eyes that it made her observation feel all the more scandalizing. A thousand potential explanations circled around in her mind. “Your mane,” she blurted—and inwardly, she cursed that that had to be the explanation.

“My mane?” Mayor Mare fluffed it, but did not appear offended at the blatancy. “Yes, I suppose it is getting a bit long. I was going to get it cut before the gala, actually—”

“No, no, your mane is wonderful at this length, darling. It’s just—”

More of her words caught in her throat. She took a deep breath, then slowly released it. “Can… Can I ask you something personal?”

“Of course you can.”

“Why… why did you choose to dye it?”

For a half-second it was a terribly exhilarating feeling. Truthfully, the question had always been there, ever since the whole debacle with the Gabby Gums incident, and it had been gnawing someplace in the back of Rarity’s mind for the past several years, never quite surfacing so as to be vocalized. But for that singular moment where it became real, Rarity felt a strange sense of release, almost giddiness.

Of course then it was quickly replaced by a thought: how could she say such a thing? This was compounded by the fact that Mayor Mare did not even reply at first.

“Oh, goodness,” Rarity said. “Mayor Mare, I am so sorry, I don’t know what came over me, that isn’t something I should have said, ever! I should have known better, it’s your business after all, and—and besides, gray does look good on you—not that I ever thought it didn’t—I’ve just not been thinking well lately and—I shouldn’t be making excuses, it’s not polite, so I’m terribly sorry, and I know that cannot ever undo the embarrassment I’ve caused you—”

She heard a snort. Rarity blinked, and saw Mayor Mare holding a hoof over her mouth. Then the hoof fell away as laughter erupted. “I’m sorry,” she managed to say from between the pearls. “That’s what you wanted to ask me?”

Wordlessly, meekly, Rarity nodded.

“It’s quite simple, really.” Mayor Mare took a step forward and flicked her head back, tossing her mane. “Silver and gray hair tends to make you look a little wiser. When you’re in a position of authority, you need to be able to act just a little bit. Some mayors have employed loud voices when they’re really soft-spoken, and others will intimidate others with their silence. Every little advantage helps when you’re the mayor, you must know.”

“I hardly would have thought that you’d need all that advantage here in Ponyville,” Rarity said quietly.

Mayor Mare smiled. “Your ringing endorsement makes this job all the easier. And, well, as you said, it does look good on me.” She tilted her head, her smile becoming just a little bit coy. 

“And it doesn’t bother you?”

“What, looking old?”

Rarity mentally cursed. Yet another blunder. Why was she making so many of those? “What? Of course not! Why, you’re as fit as a fiddle, as Applejack might say! I mean, you and Cheerilee are the same age, are you not? I’d hardly call that old.”

The other pony’s laugh was still delightful-sounding. “I suppose that’s true. But even so, there will come a time when I will be that age. I guess you could say this is me trying to prepare for it while I still can.”

“I see,” Rarity said, though she maybe saw only half of that reasoning. Her eyes remained focused on the silver hair, and she wondered about it.

“Why?” Mayor Mare said. “Looking for some dyeing tips?”

“Me?” Rarity backed up a bit, but fought for a smile. “Oh, well, I can’t say I haven’t thought about it, but—” A nervous giggle escaped her lips. “I’d like to think that I have a few years of vitality left before I have to make that kind of decision.”

Mayor Mare was unoffended. “Well, if you wouldn’t mind me saying, Rarity. I think you’d look good with a bit of platinum in your mane.”

Rarity’s hoof rose and brushed against her violet curls. “You think so?” she murmured. The resulting nod was kind and reassuring, yet Rarity was unsure if she could justifiably believe it.

Then she shook her head. “Thank you, Mayor Mare. I know this was a bit sudden and… strange to say.”

Mayor Mare waved a hoof. “It’s quite all right, Rarity. I’ve gotten a few questions in the years after the whole Gabby Gums incident, anyway. Besides, it feels good to lay down even a little bit of my experience with somepony else.”

Then Mayor Mare said, “But, if it’s no bother, Rarity, I really would like your opinion on this dress, now…”

“Oh! Oh, of course, yes.” And she gave it. But as she gave it, it was like there were two of her. One talked and gave advice and insight to the mayor, and the other traveled upstairs to her bathroom, where, that morning, she had discovered another gray strand.  She thought, for a moment, it was Opal’s, but knew immediately it was hers. When she looked in the mirror, she thought she saw a third dangling loosely behind her ear, but when she lifted a brush and tried to pull it out with her magic, all that was agitated was a purple strand and nothing more. Looking back at the mirror one more time, she even thought there were lines similar to the ones she’d seen on her friends’ faces; but when she blinked they were gone. This should have reassured her. But all that she felt was a sense of detached dread. 

Even now, as the first Rarity talked at length about which color would fit the occasion, the second remained in the bathroom, staring at herself, thinking about what the first Rarity had heard, and trying to picture herself with silver streaks, lines and wrinkles, and all the signs of life passing by and on.

***

After Mayor Mare had left with a perfect dress for the occasion, Rarity called on Sandbar and Yona for a quick favor. “I’m going to head out for a bit,” she said to them. They asked her what was going on, if there was trouble, and she shook her head. “No trouble,” Rarity said. “I just have an eye doctor’s appointment.”

“Eye doctor?” Yona said. “What wrong with Rarity’s eyes?”

“Oh, nothing, darling. It’s just a routine eye exam.” She flashed a quick smile, and Sandbar and Yona seemed satisfied with her answer.

The smile slipped away from her face as she made her way to Ponyville hospital. She hoped it was a routine eye exam, but moreover, she hoped that this time she would fail it somehow. It would at the very least confirm that she was simply seeing things, and that she just needed to start wearing glasses more often. A small price to pay for a bit of relief, she supposed.

The afternoon was warm and rich with wind, but as it blew through her mane, she realized she had forgotten to wear a hat. It would do no good now to turn back; she would have to trust that the silver streaks would hide today. At any rate, nopony who passed her by mentioned anything to her, though that might have been because she was moving quickly.

So moving, she burst through the doors, and was greeted by the sight of several older ponies staring back at her. Each had an impressive cloud display on their heads. Rarity paused, her mind racing to catch up with her body. Slowly, she closed the doors and let out a nervous chuckle, then ducked her head as she made her way up to the front desk. The pony there barely noted her presence, but checked her in. “Since you’re here for an eye exam,” she said, “you can go to room two. On the left, please and thank you.”

A nurse escorted her. Once away from the waiting room, Rarity permitted herself to release a breath. Perhaps the fates were conspiring to mess with her head, today. Between Mayor Mare’s mane and those ponies, she was beginning to think that whites were in her future. 

The nurse made her wait in the room, and a short while later, the door opened. The doctor pony was a cobalt-colored stallion with a shock of orange hair defiantly pulling itself against being slicked back. A pair of gold-rimmed glasses covered his eyes. He held a clipboard in his magic and glanced over it. “Good morning, Ms. Rarity. I trust you’ve been keeping well.”

Rarity smiled. “I am well, indeed, Doctor Eckleberg.” He had a funny name, but Rarity didn’t say anything about it. “I’m just here for the usual eye exam.”

“So you are,” he said. “Though, you’re a bit early. Normally your eye exams are scheduled at the end of the month, isn’t that right?” 

“I just wanted to get it out of the way, that’s all.”

 Doctor Eckleberg hummed a neutral note. “Very well. Let’s get started.”

They went through the usual tests. They went into the hall and had Rarity stand a few feet from a distant wall, on which hung one of the sight-testing posters that had several letters of different-sized fonts pyramiding up from the bottom. Doctor Eckleberg had Rarity cover one eye with her hoof and read out the letters; she repeated the action after covering the other eye. Then they returned to the room, and the good doctor had her place her face between the lenses of a phoropter while he flicked a series of disks in front of her. “Read each one,” he said, and Rarity did. She noted the sound of a pencil scrawling across the clipboard, no doubt noting her remarks.

She tried not to lie, though she felt herself consciously fighting to avoid lying anyway. She was unsure if the lenses were intentionally blurring the letters, if they were somehow more obscured this time than the last time last year, or if it was evidence that the fault lay with her eyes. On one hoof, she wanted glasses, if only to be certain that she had been mistaken; but on the other hoof, the implication of such a prescription would mean—

All of a sudden, the lenses went black. Rarity pulled her head back and saw Doctor Eckleberg finishing up his notes. “Doctor?” she asked. 

“Yes and yes,” he said; he almost sounded bored. “Remind me, Miss Rarity. You wear reading glasses, right?”

“Why, yes, I do.”

He nodded, flipped the pages in the clipboard, wrote something else, then lowered the item. “Keep using them.” He turned and began to walk out.

“Wait!” she called. He stopped, glancing behind him. “What do you mean? Is that it?”

“Of course that’s it, Miss Rarity. You scored a perfect 20/20, same as the last several years.” He paused. “You don’t seem quite too happy to hear that.”

She didn’t. When he had said the number out loud, she felt something cold splash in her heart. The cold spread through her. 

“It’s just… I thought that my vision was, you know, starting to—”

“Fade? In a few years, most certainly. But don’t you worry. So long as you don’t strain your eyes by reading in the dark or by staring up at the sun—Celestia knows how many foals we’ve got doing that on a weekly basis—you’ll be able to make those eyes last almost an entire lifetime without much outside aid. You should be proud of that,” he added, in a friendlier tone of voice.

Her nod was weak, her smile strained and habitual, yet he seemed not to notice. “Come along, then. We don’t want you hogging a room since you’re done.”

They left, and separated in the hall, Rarity returning to the waiting room while Doctor Eckleberg trotted elsewhere, muttering, “If only my other examinations were that easy.” In the waiting room, there were still that large group of cloudy-haired elders, all looking at her with what she thought was some sort of disdain or even pity. 

“Would you like to schedule a follow-up appointment?” the secretary pony asked her. And for a moment Rarity considered doing so—considered that perhaps the tests were wrong, that Doctor Eckleberg was a hack. That would mean more tests, more ways of proving herself wrong—

Why on Equestria would she do that?

“No,” she said, head drooping just a bit. “That won’t be necessary. We’ll… we’ll keep it to a yearly schedule, same as before.”

***

That should have been the end of her troubles that day. She thought it would be, as she left Ponyville Hospital, and so thinking, she also began to berate herself. It had been silly to place all her hopes on having poor eyesight. A longshot. An improbability. And not just silly; if she had had poor eyesight, it would still come down to the same fact. 

Seen or not seen… The symbols and signs floated around in her mind. They did not taunt her. They had no need to. It was enough for them to exist, now, as both memory and as fear.

She would have to accept them. But how could she? How could anypony easily or willingly come to terms with the simple fact of the matter—she and her friends, minus Twilight, were—

“Oh, there you are!”

A rainbow streak burst through the edge of her vision, before landing easily in front of her. Rainbow was grinning. “Heya, Rarity!”

“Hello, Rainbow,” Rarity said, not bothering to hide her wariness.

“So…” Rainbow lifted a hoof, as though meaning to touch Rarity, then hesitated and rubbed the back of her head. “Uh… how are you holding up?”

“From…?”

“From Canterlot. You know. Feeling dizzy, weak? Don’t tell me you forgot already.” She glanced past her. “I mean, you did just come out of the hospital—oh my gosh!”

Any hesitancy fled. Rainbow dashed forward and gripped Rarity with her hooves. “Rarity, are you all right? What did the doctors say? Is it serious? Is it—”

Rarity, summoning every ounce of calmness within her, carefully pushed Rainbow off of her, careful to avoid looking directly at her face. “It’s nothing serious, Rainbow, really. Just my usual eye exam.”

“Oh. And how did—”

“A perfect 20/20.” Rarity was unable to keep her bitterness out of her voice. 

“That bothers you? Why?”

Rarity opened her mouth to answer. But nothing came out. “Rarity?” Rainbow said. 

The way she looked at her made Rarity feel self-conscious, and again she was filled with regret for forgetting to wear a hat. No doubt the gray was showing. No doubt of that, and no doubt that the age lines were cropping under her eyes still. Did she know? Did she see as Rarity saw? Oh, heavens, if I hadn’t seen it in the first place; if I hadn’t looked! If I hadn’t found that gray hair! She blinked, tears forming briefly in her eyes. 

“Hey, hey, come on, now,” Rainbow said. Her voice became gentle. “Rarity, what is it? You can tell me!”

It was like the whole week had suddenly come and fallen upon her, all the dread and uncertainty culminating into this terrible sensation. It built up in her throat, threatened to spill; and still, by some saving grace, she managed to hold it back. She inhaled deeply, exhaled deeply.

“Rainbow,” Rarity began, “have you ever realized something, and, having realized it, felt it completely warp your own perception?”

Rainbow blinked. Rarity went on. “And, having now your perception so thusly warped, it threatens to crush everything in you?”

“Rarity…”

Rarity paused. “I’m not making any sense, am I?”

“No,” Rainbow said. She smiled, but was still confused. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be, dear. To be honest, I’ve been feeling out of it ever since the last Council. I can’t explain why.” Not to you. Not yet, if ever. “It’s hard to explain, just in general.” Rarity sighed. “I guess… I guess you could say I’ve been feeling some chaos brewing inside of me. And… and it’s eating me up inside, Rainbow. I don’t know why, but it is. I’m not making any sense, though, am I?” 

Rainbow shrugged. “Maybe not. But, well, if it’s got something to do with chaos, why not ask Discord?”

Rarity almost scoffed. Going to Discord for advice on anything was just asking for trouble. But then, she thought about it. Who else but he would understand even a little of what Rarity was feeling? 

“All right, Rainbow,” she said quietly. “I think I’ll go do just that.” After a brief pause, she added, “Thank you.”

Rainbow grinned cheekily. It almost made the thin bags under her eyes fade away. “No problem, Rares. Happy to help out anytime.”

Then she flew off, without a worry in the world, clearly believing that, for now, the matter had been resolved. Rarity watched her go for a moment longer, before resuming her trot.