Rarity, Contessa di Mareanello (?)

by JimmySlimmy


It's a Regency Dress – but a Regency of Whom?

As she plunged headfirst into wine-dark seas, eyes closed against saltwater burn, no small part of Rarity’s brain screamed in abject terror.

Here she was, once again, adrift in uncaring ocean, this time not quite so weighed down with the inability of youth but quite literally weighed down with armaments, helpless and doomed to suffer an awful fate and a watery–

Ending her spiraling dismay rather suddenly, a hoof shot into the water, grabbing a firm hold on her (thankfully uncharacteristically reinforced) tail and yanking her unceremoniously towards the surface. The light on the front of her eyelids prompted her to open them, revealing the sunglasses-adorned face of one Rainbow Dash, ship’s life preserver in hoof.

“You good?” asked Rainbow Dash, dropping the wet end of Rarity’s tail back into the water as the waterlogged unicorn began to frantically tread water.

Rarity, head dipping between waves, decided on a better usage of limited above-water time than answering the question, which was to swear at Rainbow Dash through clenched teeth.“I AM GOING TO TEAR OUT YOUR INTESTINES WITH A GARDEN HOOK AND STRANGLE YOU WITH THEM.”

Rainbow Dash, snorting in laughter, clapped a forehoof onto Rarity’s shoulder. “That’s the spirit, Rares.” She tossed her rapidly-sinking friend the life preserver, which Rarity eagerly grabbed onto. “Now get to it.” She rose into the air, pointing behind Rarity. “Remember, you’ve only got to get around the first ship, then just go up the stairs. Got it?”

Get fucked, go fuck yourself, and fuck off.” Rarity had calmed down slightly, which meant she could afford to open her mouth when swearing.

“Anything else?”

A beat, then a sheepish “…And bring two towels, please?”

“After you asked me so nicely? How could I not?” Rainbow Dash flew above the edge of the ship, then sharply into the air, towards the town. A few indistinct yells could be heard, then the sharp “crack!” of airborne acceleration.

As the sounds of flight receded, Rarity looked back down at the thankfully calm harbor waters, then back into the air. “Why’d Twilight get the wings, anyway?” she grumbled, setting off for her destination with gentle kicks.


Rainbow Dash returned to a very soggy, and very hatless, Rarity attempting to dry her tail with her horn-flame, contorted into a sort of ouroboros-esque shape.

It was exactly as hilarious as it sounded.

“Please, whatever you do, don’t move until I can get a camera.”

Rarity ignored the chuckling from her right, focused utterly on drying her tail. “Yes, Rainbow, I’m sure this is hilarious-looking–”

“–This is one of the funniest things I’ve ever seen, and I saw Twilight turn herself into vegetables once–”

“–but there is really only one way to geometrically achieve the task of bringing one’s tail to one’s forehead, and it is most certainly not an elegant way to do so.”

“No argument here.” Rainbow Dash smirked. “’Course, I’m a little surprised by how much you’re, like, dying over here. I was sure you were an expert in keeping your head up your own ass.”

“I’m not going to dignify that with a response and am, instead, going to once again imagine you being vigorously disemboweled.”

“By what?”

“Me, hopefully.” A sniff. “Anyways, did you bring the towels I asked for?”

“Oh, yeah, I did!” Rainbow Dash turned her head a stuck her muzzle into a bag, then tossed out two identical towels, each a little smaller than the average beach-goer’s. “Will these work?”

“Stupendously, yes.” Rarity used one to give herself a quick pat-down before wrapping her tail in it, then, after removing her slung armaments, used the other to ever-so carefully pat dry her beloved rifle. The saltwater was unquestionably going to ruin it unless she was able to oil it thoroughly, but she could try and mitigate the damage at least. “In all seriousness and disemboweling aside, thank you for these. Where did you get them?”

“I stole them from a clothesline about a town over down the coast. Left some bits, too – wouldn’t want to be rude, y’know?”

“Naturally. One would hate to add insult to injury when stealing laundry.”

“Yeah, right? Wouldn’t feel right.”

“No, and it wouldn’t be particularly generous of us either.” Rarity paused her drying, thinking for a moment. “Which, I suppose, wouldn’t be an issue for you, but would cause me to–” a frown “–well, I don’t really know, actually.” She scrunched her face in thought. “Fall over dead? Explode? Find myself smote in some other hilarious way by magical flora?”

“I can go take the money if you want to find out, because that does sound pretty funny, now that you mention it.”

“I would prefer if you didn’t, all things considered.”

“Your choice, I guess.” Rainbow Dash shrugged. After a moment, she pointed at Rarity’s presently towel-ensconced tail. “Also, why were you drying your tail earlier if you were just going to stick it in a towel?”

“Because, Rainbow Dash,” said Rarity, rolling her eyes as if speaking to a small child. “If I were to merely stick my tail into the towels sopping wet, I would end up with terrible tangling and knotting.”

“And?”

And?” Rarity recoiled, forehoof to her breast. “And? Rainbow Dash, I may not be able to keep my signature coiffure in tip-top shape presently, but I would be remiss to totally discard maintenance. I will, at some point, be able to restore it to its full glory, and I would hate to have to catch up on deferred maintenance when I find myself in such a situation.”

“If you say so, I guess.” Rainbow Dash, after a moment of mental clarity, looked around the dock – mostly empty, and nopony near this particular set of stairs. “Uh, on second thought, maybe we shouldn’t, um, try and maintain our ‘signature appearances?’”

“Heavens, Rainbow, why would you suggest such a thing?”

“Because, Rares, last time I checked our ‘signature appearances’ are, like, literally glued to walls right now.”

“…Oh, right.” Rarity frowned. “Unfortunately, you probably have a point; when trying to evade authorities, it wouldn’t exactly be prudent to go around looking exactly as we appeared on the front page of Canterlot newspapers.” Her frown deepened. “Now that I think about it, that’s going to be quite the issue. Both of us have the usually advantageous but presently quite disadvantageous traits of rather distinctive manes, coats, and marks, which means that in order to successfully disguise, or at least make less obvious, our presence we would require – Oooh! Oh-ho-ho!

“What?” Rainbow Dash fixed Rarity with a look. “What’s with the creepy laughs, Rares?”

Rarity’s frown from before had been replaced with a frantic smile, and her eyes, twitching from side to side, shone with a manic glee. “Raaaaain-bowwwww she crooned out in a sing-song voice.

“What?” Rainbow Dash shook her head. “Rarity, what’s gotten you so–”

A sudden realization of panic.

“Rainbow, it’s time for makeovers!”

Ah, hell.”


Luckily, Rainbow’s airborne shenanigans and subsequent police response had pushed most of the little port town’s residents inside, rendering their sneaking through town mostly uneventful. On occasion, the pair would catch a glimpse of eyes through blinds held open or curtains not quite shut, but invariably anypony seen through a window would disappear almost instantly back into the darkness; evidently, the wanted posters had done their job, although the sheer terror displayed by the locals was, in Rarity and Rainbow Dash’s opinion, a little out of proportion with the apparent threat. Perhaps they just lived particularly uninteresting lives? Then again, Rarity and Rainbow Dash and, really, all of Ponyville lived particularly and often quite unpleasantly interesting ones, so it was perhaps coming from a rather skewed perspective.

Whatever the case, the town didn’t exactly present Bitaly in the finest light. A casual glance wouldn’t see anything too bad; the residents clearly took pride in their town, and the streets and walls were free of trash and graffiti respectively. But a watchful eye, and Rarity had an exceptionally watchful eye for these kinds of things, would pick up on wrinkles in the facade – here a broken window patched up with a sheet of wood, there a caved-in storm drain, and everywhere dulled paint, patchy awnings, and flickering streetlights.

Eventually, the two arrived unharmed at the front door of a shabby (the charitable would call it ‘shabby chic,’ but there’s nothing chic about peeling shutters) little boutique of some sort. Rarity, hat replaced atop her head, her baggage once again attached to her derriere, and rifle safely ensconced in a pair of slightly damp towels, raised a hoof to knock. “Shall we?”

“Yeah.” Rainbow Dash, less concerned with decorum, merely opened the door.

Rarity rolled her eyes.

From inside, a sweet, light voice cut through close-packed fabric. “S-signora, please, w-we are closed by order of – aie!”

As Rainbow Dash and Rarity ducked inside the store, the faint sounds of tumbling items could be heard from behind a small counter, and an off-white tail fluttered nervously above the rim.

Rarity, concerned, trotted over to the scene of the commotion. “Dearie me, darling, did we scare you? I assure you we are nothing to be–”

The mare behind the counter poked her head over the edge, revealing herself to be a somewhat diminutive pink unicorn younger than either of the travelers; she was barely over filly age, really. Her eyes first scanned over Rarity, then to Rainbow Dash, whereupon they shot completely open, pupils shooting wide in fear as she ducked back down with another squeak of terror.

“Goodness!” Rarity, chuckling, rounded the counter top, finding, after a small amount of initial difficulty, the store’s proprietor crammed up against the far wall, shaking in terror. “I assure you, you have no reason to be afraid. Whatever you saw on any posters or heard from authorities is simply, ah, a misunderstanding.”

The little mare paused for a second, then, with a quizzical look, locked eyes with Rarity. “…Posters?”

Rarity returned her confused look, gesturing gently outside with a forehoof. “Er, yes, the posters outside. I presume that’s the source of your consternation, no?”

“Const-consta–” the clerk shook her head. “I do not know this word, and I do not know what posters you are talking of, but if it has to do with this robbery then it does not matter, as I have very little and–”

Robbery?” Rainbow Dash guffawed from across the store. The proprietor gave another squeak of terror.

“Robbery?” said Rarity, a little later and with a gentler tone. “No, I have full intentions of paying you. Where in Celestia’s name did you get that idea? The posters?”

“No, of course not!” The clerk shook her head, panic creeping back in. “I don’t know what you keep talking about, but it obvious by your friend’s state that your intentions are no good, yes?”

“Hers?” Rarity cocked her head in confusion, squinting in thought. “Well, I suppose she does look a bit like a ruffian, although by my estimation she is mostly harmless and not to be feared unless one is a plate glass window, in which case any fear is justified and–”

“No! Are you stupid?” The mare popped back over the counter, pointing a forehoof at Rainbow Dash; more specifically, at her ruffling wings. “Your friend! Look at her!”

Both Rarity and Rainbow Dash turned to look at the exasperated little mare. Rainbow Dash, deeply confused, scratched her head. Rarity coughed politely.

“Do you not see? Are you blind?” the Bitalian reiterated.

Rarity, after a moment, shook her head, defeated. “Er, I suppose so. I have absolutely no idea what you are talking about, dear.”

“Yeah,” added Rainbow Dash. “I got nothing over here either, unless – oh! Duh! I forgot!” Rainbow Dash knocked the side of her head with a hoof. “It’s these guys, right?” She moved to grab the sunglasses off her face, unfurling a wing. “I forgot that some ponies get kinda touchy about seeing ponies’ eyes, so lemme just–”

As soon as Rainbow Dash’s wing stretched out to its (frankly somewhat puny) full length, the Bitalian clerk nearly screamed in terror.

Rainbow Dash froze, eyes shooting to the clerk. She gave her wing a wiggle, which seemed to upset the clerk more, much to her profound confusion. “Uh.”

Rarity, having scooted a little nearer to the clerk, echoed the sentiment. “…Her wings? Are you concerned about her wings?

Yes! Yes of course!”

“…Why?”

“They’re out!”

A beat passed.

“Well, yes, of course they are.” Rarity recoiled a little in shock. “Heavens, I can’t think of the last time I saw a pegasus with her wings covered outside of the occasional medical situation.”

“W-what?” The clerk shook her head. “I do not understand what you are–”

Rarity?”

Rainbow Dash sometimes spoke authoritatively, and she sometimes spoke calmly. She rarely did both.

Rarity, unnerved by the uncharacteristic severity, turned to Rainbow Dash. “Yes, Rainbow?”

“I think I might have figured something out.” She gestured to her bags. “I don’t have my reading glasses on, so, if you wouldn’t mind, can you get Twilight’s book out of the left one and read page thirty one?”

Rarity nodded as the trotted over. “Sure, I suppose, although I must ask as to what you expect to find on there.”

“It’s the first page of the section for pegasi. I remember the table of contents.”

“I thought that might come in handy.” Rarity rolled her eyes, digging her snout into the bags. After a moment, she returned with the book, spitting it, with comedically overstated displeasure, onto the floor. She turned to Rainbow Dash, joking. “Wow, that thing is absolutely repugnant. It tastes–”

Rainbow Dash didn’t laugh.

“…Ah. Right.” Rarity, realizing that she might have misread the room, grimaced slightly as she opened the book. “Okay! Page thirty one, thirty one, thirty – a-ha! Here we are! Ahem! ‘The Pegasus and Bitaly,’ by yadda-yadda and – oh.” Rarity peered in a little closer. “Read: ‘For the pegasus curious about traveling to Bitaly, it is the author’s opinion that one should simply, if at all possible, not visit at all.’ My, well, that’s quite the severe warning.” She kept reading. “‘Even among Bitaly’s many different societal ills, perhaps no failing of Bitalian society nor symbol of its backwardness when compared to other Equestrian dominions is so readily apparent as the treatment of pegasi in Bitalian society. While across the civilized realms there are differences in, for example, permissibility of flight above populated areas, Bitaly’s restrictions, and especially those in the northern region of the province, placed on pegasi go enormously past any other region and, indeed, verge quite heavily into,’ ah,‘ cruelty.’” Rarity paused, taking a moment to compose herself and inspect Rainbow Dash for any signs of reaction.

Without ceasing to look straight ahead, Rainbow Dash answered Rarity’s implied question through clenched jaw. “I didn’t ask you to stop. Keep going.”

Rarity gave a little nod. “‘Likely due to long cultural memories of airborne bands of well-armed mercenary-brigands, open-parenthesis see Condottieri subsections Arcobaleno and Prisma in the appendix close-parenthesis, that hounded the region whilst it found itself under the neglectful hoof of a series of disinterested Royal Viceroys, the sight of an unbound pegasus in public is generally seen as extremely provocative and aggressive. While a symbolic scarf, usually made of silk, tied around the wings will generally suffice in the south of the dominion, in the north it is universally expected, under point of law, that a pegasus’ wings should remain t-tightly covered.’”

Rainbow Dash continued to stare at nothing in particular, but her flaring nostrils and rising wings revealed what her face did not; namely, abject, absolute, wall-punching rage.

Rarity put the book down, looking at Rainbow Dash with deeply sympathetic eyes that, despite her best effort, displayed no small amount of alarm at what looked to be an enormously destructive emotional blowup. “Rainbow, I’m sorry, I – I didn’t realize that things here were so–”

FUCKING … FUCK!” Swears flew out of Rainbow Dash like grapeshot, punctuated with fully extended wings and a stomp of a back hoof. “TIGHTLY COVERED? What the FUCK kind of shitfucking shit-palace is this fucking place, huh? What, like, do they tie up little pegasus fillies and tear out their fucking feathers or something? Did I die on that fucking boat and end up in in the fires of pegasus Tartarus or something?” She kicked out another back hoof, catching a roll of fabric and sending it flying across the shop. “I mean come the FUCK on, really? Nopony thinks this is absolutely fucking completely fucking godsawfully fucking nuts? We’re all just cool with it?”

“Rainbow,” said Rarity gently, “I can assure you that I am absolutely disgusted by–”

“Not you, dipshit!” Rainbow Dash smacked a wingtip to her face, accidentally sending another item of clothing spiraling. “Of course you think it’s fucked, which, let me be clear, this is fucked, but nopony else? The entire fucking government? Luna’s a fucking idiot, so she wouldn’t know because I think she can’t read, but nopony else?” She pointed out the window. “And forget our own homegrown fucking morons, everypony here is just cool with this? ‘Oh, hey, guess you got shat out by your mom with wings on your side, life is going to fucking suck fat fucking cocks for your entire life, hope you don’t mind?’”

Rarity continued to try and calm her friend down, speaking in a low and gentle tone. “Rainbow, I’m sure that the vast majority of residents here have their own feelings about the matter, but laws and customs–”

Rainbow Dash scoffed. “Really? You’re sure about that? Because when we walked in here I’m pretty sure the chick running this shit-shack didn’t kindly and gently remind me to do shit, she just started fucking pissing her pants and, like, I don’t know, calling the cops to come behead the big bad scary feather-brain.” She stamped a forehoof, then pointed it at Rarity. “That doesn’t sound like somepony who’s not on board, Rares!”

Perhaps,” said Rarity, a little firmer, “but that is an assumption, Rainbow, both of motive and desired action. It appears to me that, outside of personal concerns, there are legal–”

“Is it?” Rainbow Dash interrupted. “Because it seems pretty obvious to me, Rares.” Her wings fluttered in time with forceful breaths. “And I don’t really see how are you aren’t getting this, but I’m about ready to start kicking in teeth and burn–”

Enough!” snapped Rarity, stamping a forehoof in punctuation. “Of course I get it, Rainbow, but I’m not going to tolerate talk like that.” Her vigorous interjection having successfully stopped her friend mid rant, her expression softened and she gently stepped over to Rainbow Dash, pulling up close beside her and lowering the tone of her voice considerably. “Despite appearances, I’m not an idiot, Rainbow Dash; this is, as you say, completely fucked, a description which which I most certainly agree. But tearing up this poor soul’s store is going to accomplish nothing, okay?”

Rainbow Dash said nothing, stewing for a moment.

Rarity continued. “More importantly, whether you agree or not, I won’t stand for it, and, more pragmatically, we still need a change of clothes, okay? So lets focus on that before we go on the warpath against the various unfortunates of this gods-forsaken place.” A pause, then a gesture towards the wreckage behind Rainbow Dash. “And clean some of this up, yes? It’s unsuitable for cultured mares like ourselves to act this way.”

Rainbow Dash nearly spat out a retort, but, with an impressive and impressively uncharacteristic display of restraint, mostly held her tongue. “…I still hate this fucking place,” she muttered under her breath as she began to pick up a toppled piece of furniture.

“Fair enough,” Rarity chuckled, then thought for a moment. “Although I suppose our quest to assume political control of this place has an ulterior motive as well now, hmm? Acquire currency and change the world, as they say, no?”

“Pipe dream, but whatever,” Rainbow Dash grumbled. “And I’m still flying anyway, law aside.”

“I would expect nothing less, Rainbow.” Rarity backed away, turning her body towards the counter before trotting gently towards the sounds of whimpering mare. “And I suppose I could make this a little better for you anyway; just remind me to pass a declaration legalizing free-flight as my first official act as Contessa of–”

WHAM!”

Shocked by the sound of something falling off a counter top, Rarity turned her head towards that corner of the room, only to suddenly find her progress halted by the new presence of a pink unicorn quite literally attached to her forehooves and mumbling bilingual apologies in between sobs.

“…Oh.” After a moment of realization, Rarity looked up from her currently occupied forelegs with a look of disgust. “Oh.”

“Rarity?” Rainbow Dash, looking over a display she was currently righting, concerned. “Everything good over there?”

“Locally and immediately? Yes. In the big picture? Quite the opposite, because I believe I have figured something else out about this place.” Rarity took a deep breath, pushing back a deservedly prodigious but presently counterproductive rant, then looked down at the grovelling unicorn presently attached to her hooves. “Please do get up, dear, it’s unbecoming, and you have a lovely face that would be marred terribly by tear lines.”

The mare sniveled some more, but did at least open her eyes and cease her mumbling.

“There we go.” Rarity took a moment to compose herself, then affixed her kindest face to her visage. “Now, listen, I believe we may have gotten quite catastrophically off on the wrong hoof, and I would, if you would allow me, to try again. My name is Rarity, my friend here is, as you likely heard, Rainbow Dash, and I can say with absolute certainty that, despite what she said in the heat of passion, we are not going to harm you.”

The clerk nodded shakily at Rarity, but her eyes shot back down to Rainbow Dash as she extended a pointing forehoof towards her still-wriggling wings. “Bu-but what–”

Rarity gently pushed the tailor’s hoof back to the floor, smiling gently. “Dear, we are, as you might have noticed, foreigners. What passes for normal here is quite alien to us, and what passes as normal for us is quite alien to you.” She gestured towards Rainbow Dash. “To you the sight of uncovered wings is a major offense, to us binding and covering the wings of a pegasus would be tantamount to torture.”

“Oh, I apologize, I-I was not aware things not here were so different.” The mare wiped her eyes once, then twice. “W-where are you from, then, contessa?”

“Canterlot, more or less. The Old Country,” Rarity replied, smile visibly broadening in elation that the conversation had finally reached brighter topics. “And you needn’t address me by a title, either. Just Rarity is fine.”

The clerk’s eyes shot back open in panic, looking left and right desperately as she resumed whimpering. “O-oh! I-I ap-poligize! Per favore, signora, I meant no–”

Shush.” Rarity, after a cautious light touch to test the proverbial waters, laid a gentle forehoof across the back of the prostrate mare. “Remember what I said? I’m not going to hurt you.”

The Bitalian mare gave one more shudder, but quieted.

“That’s better.” Rarity removed her hoof. “Now stand up for me please? If you are feeling it, and I certainly hope you are, I would quite like to purchase some of your works and goods.”

At the word “purchase”, the mare’s mood brightened considerably, and she stood up.

“Excellent. I know the prospect of a sale always makes me feel better – I can only assume it does the same for you.” Suddenly, Rarity’s curiosity got the better of her, and she vocalized her implicit concern from earlier. “Now, I can’t help but notice that you reacted a little, ah, severely to my title. If you wouldn’t mind, purely to sate my curiosity about the culture of this place, you see, is there any particular, ah, experience that you have had that would … influence your response?”

The mare looked to the left and right, then, keeping eyes averted, nodded hurriedly. “Ah, yes.” Another nod, likely more to calm her nerves than anything. “W-when I was smaller, and mother had left and father had passed, I, ah, did accidentally not s-show a contessa who visited my store her deserved respect with the correct address, and so s-she had done to me the lama, a, er, file or a saw-blade, I think you would call it, I believe.”

“File?” Rarity looked around the shop, looking for damage to the walls or furniture that would indicate some sort of judicially sanctioned vandalism. She turned back to the mare. “I’m afraid I don’t–”

Rarity at once noticed the worn but regular pattern of gouges and scoring around her fellow unicorn’s horn. She also noticed, as an aside, that she had not seen the shopkeeper use her magic once.

She also noticed that she was suddenly quite sick.

Oh dear Celestia, I–” Rarity produced a choked gurgle, only just managing to swallow down bile. “Oh, that’s–”

“Rares?” Rainbow Dash, hearing the unpleasant utterances, rapidly made her way over, pulling up alongside her friend and steadying her with a wing. “You good?”

Mmm-hmm!” lied Rarity, visibly unwell and tinged slightly with green. She, noticing Rainbow Dash’s presence, turned her muzzle to place it almost directly into Rainbow Dash’s ear. “Absolutely not, no, I am not. Look at what they did to her horn!”

Rainbow Dash gave it a quasi-sneaky glance, eyes widening as she turned back to Rarity – words were unnecessary; a shocked grimace was sufficient.

Rarity gave a quick nod, murmuring a quiet “my thoughts exactly” as she turned back to the clerk. “I…see. Which countess did this to you, exactly?”

“The Contessa di Galloparte.” The clerk shuddered, then make a sign with her hoof neither mainlander recognized. “A unicorn – green, with white hair most striking and eyes like fire. A very important lady in Marelan.”

“So I see.” Rarity, upon hearing that her fellow countess still drew breath, had already mentally written a letter to Luna asking for tips on how to best perform an ornamental cranial impalement. “Well, that unpleasant business aside, as I said, I would quite like to see what you have to offer. I understand that your inventory of premade garments is likely to be quite limited, but I should think we would be more than happy with whatever can be made to fit.”

“Of course!” The clerk, while still to some extent unnerved by Rainbow Dash’s still exposed wings, was clearly more comfortable with the present circumstances now that she was in the more familiar environment of selling clothes. “I think … sì, eccellente, I think that I will be able to accommodate that without too much issue, as it is just past the season for springtime parties and balls and I have more than usual.”

“Superb news!” Rarity’s smile faltered slightly. “Although, if at all possible, I fear that a ballgown may be not quite what we are looking for.”

“Do not worry! I have many things suited for the everyday.” She whizzed past the two mares, diving into ostensibly sorted stacks of dresses – apparently, the dressmaker’s tendency to work in poorly-organized chaos was a cultural universal. “Now, for you, I think … yes! I think this will fit you.”

“If you are right, I’ll be impressed!” Rarity said without a hint of irony. “I, for one, usually mess up with merely visual sizing – I never quite get the right estimate for the rump, usually too large.”

“Really? I never have a problem with the rump.” The clerk pulled out of the stack, a dress held in a forehoof and outstretched with fizzling and unsteady hornlight, faint sparking and arcing visible from the faintly glowing scoring along her horn.

Rarity gulped, temporarily struck dumb. “Well, it’s … very quaint?”

It was that, although the faintly plumed elbow-length sleeves, wide and plain pastel-yellow skirt with Neoclassical geometric patterning along the foot, and high-waisted light blue bodice with a surprisingly low-cut rectangular neckline pointed less towards “classic quality” and more towards “literally a century old.”

It looked astonishingly like the dress Rarity’s grandmother wore to her wedding, actually.

Rainbow Dash snickered. Rarity gave her a stealthy kick with a back hoof.

The clerk’s smile faltered as she looked between the dress and Rarity’s nearly-almost convincingly forced pleased expression. “I r-realize it’s not the finest of Marelan, but we do the best that we can with what we have, ?”

“No! Don’t apologize! It’s–” Rarity, suddenly remembering the state of the town outside, had another epiphany; namely, that the dress looked like it was a century old because it probably was, and that its quaintness wasn’t a choice but a consequence of necessity. “–it’s actually very nice!” Rarity’s expression fortified back into a legitimately pleased smile. “I presume it’s originally a Regency piece? That would explain the high bodice and the neckline, although the lack of pleating is a little surprising considering the vintage.”

“Yes, it is!” The shopkeeper nodded enthusiastically. “Well, the top of the dress is. The skirt on the original was ripped so badly I could not repair it, so I put the skirt of another dress on it that had damage from the moths on the bodice.”

“Clever! I don’t think I would have thought of that.” Rarity stepped closer, running a forehoof along the ornamentation along the bottom of the skirt. “Was the pattern original?”

The Bitalian seamstress moved the dress back to the top of a stack, extinguishing her horn with a slight but noticeable wince. “No, it was originally left plain. I thought the Roanan pattern would add some of the nice lines.”

“Well, I think you did splendidly. How much?”

“No!” The clerk shook her head. “After I insulted you earlier, I would prefer if you simply took–”

“Nonsense.” Rarity cut her off. “How about one hundred bits?”

Un centinaio? You speak truly? I-I couldn’t–”

Non. Sense. It’s a nice dress and I will pay you what it’s worth.” Rarity gestured to Rainbow Dash. “Rainbow, pay the nice mare a hundred bits out of the silly magic bag, please.”

Rainbow Dash removed the Purse from her baggage, grumbling. “Rarity, generosity is great and all, but we still have to get something for me, remember?”

“We will have plenty left for you, Rainbow.”

“Yeah? What if whatever I have to wear costs more?” Rainbow Dash trotted over to the counter top, depositing the requested sum into a dish. “What if that happens?”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Rainbow Dash. Your dress would never cost more than mine; it only needs half the fabric.” She turned to the clerk. “Now, I understand the particular … difficulties for you in selecting a dress for a pegasus, but if you have anything at all I can virtually guarantee we’ll take it.”

“It’s … she is a tricky one, no?” The mare tilted her head, squinting at the pegasus across the store. “Very small frame with little of the padding, and the wings – I do not get many pegasi, you see. Few live here.”

“Understandably so,” Rarity mused. “If I may recommend, Miss Dash is, ah, svelte enough that she typically fits into an, er, youthful size? Not a fillies’ one, mind you, but something that a young mare would wear to a high school graduation or a debutante ball, perhaps?”

“I see. ‘High school,’ I do not know, but debutante yes.” The clerk tapped a hoof thoughtfully. “I have things sized for such, yes, although I will have to take out some fabric around the rear to properly fit an … adult mare.”

Rarity snorted a chuckle. “I can assure you, that isn’t going to be a problem.”

“So I see.” The mare scrunched her face in thought. “I think, then … how big are her wings?”

Normal!” shouted Rainbow Dash from across the store.

“Rather small,” said Rarity more convincingly.

Oh! Then I have something, I believe.” The clerk gave a sheepish grin. “But I will warn you that it is, um, very traditional.”

“More traditional than this?” Rarity pointed at the dress selected for her. “Really?”

“Sì. That would be quite modern.” She turned back to the racks and stacks of dresses. “This … well, it will fit, so long as the wing sleeves are the right size, but I do not think it will be to the liking of your pegasus friend.”

“It can’t be that–”

Likewise outstretched with fizzing magic, the dress selected for Rainbow Dash was clearly, in comparison to Rarity’s, an unmolested original. A wide, ruffled floor-length pink skirt, ornamented with baroque floral patterns, flowed upwards into an oddly wide white velvet bodice constructed with internal stays and high v-neck.

Rarity looked delighted.

Rainbow Dash, having returned from the other side of the room, looked considerably more skeptical. “…You’re telling me ponies wear this around?”

The mare shrugged. “It is a little formal, but would not be uncommon.”

Rainbow Dash grumbled. “… Fine.” She eyed the dress like a mongoose does a cobra, circling it. “How do I put this thing on, anyway? Do I go up the bottom?”

“Yes, but the top comes off so the wings can be secured and the stays inside can be fastened. Have you worn something with stays before?”

“I don’t even know what stays are.”

“I see.” The clerk deftly unbuttoned the top from the rest of the dress with a forehoof and mouth before carrying it over to Rainbow Dash. “Then have your friend help you try this on, per favore? I need to see the how the wings lie.”

Rainbow Dash stood over the garment, squinting. “What’s up with the things on the sides?”

Rarity trotted over. “I’m not sure, actually.” She turned to the shopkeeper. “Where are the wing holes?”

“Wing … holes?” the mare asked, puzzled as to the nature of the question. “If you mean holes for the wings, there are openings in the inside for the sleeves.”

“Sleeves? What do you mean–” Rainbow Dash, after a moment of realization, recoiled in shock, shuffling nervously from one forehoof to the other. “Oh! Uh, Rares, I, um, really don’t like having my wings covered, and I really don’t like them caught in something, so I don’t know if I’m gonna like this much.” A gulp. “Actually, now that I think about it, I don’t know if I’m gonna like any part of it. Aren’t these kinda tight?”

“They’re not so bad once they’re on, and I’m sure that applies for the wings as well.” She pulled the knot on the back laces open, then spread the halves, revealing the inner pockets for Rainbow Dash’s wings. “In you go! Arms through the big holes, neck stays in the middle, and, er, I suppose the wings go in the slots along your sides.”

“You sound suspiciously confident about this, Rarity. Have you worn something like this before?”

“This? Sure!” Rarity leaned in closer to Rainbow Dash’s ear, whispering. Corsets? Yes. Something with stays? No, absolutely not, because nopony has made anything like this in a century, and those things you feel poking you are whale bones, which means this whole thing is immensely illegal, but we don’t have a choice.”

Rainbow Dash, ashen faced, nevertheless did as she was told, hiking the garment up her forelegs and, after some difficulty, threading a wing into one of the sleeves, squirming all the while. She turned to Rarity. “Can you, uh, help me with the other one? I can’t get the angle right.”

Rarity, ever the helpful, guided the free wing into the other pocket, then centered the stays and, with a mighty tug that led to a most un-Rainbow Dash and particularly girly squeak, yanked down the laces in the back, folding the extra length along the top before gesturing to the clerk. “Would you mind tying this for me? My usual method for doing so is presently out of commission, you see.”

With unsteady magic, the mare, after another pull to ensure a snug (but not too snug) fit, tied the laces.

“Now!” Rarity came around to Rainbow Dash’s front. “How’s that feel?”

“Tight.” Rainbow Dash was visibly uncomfortable. “Kinda like I can't breathe right, like I broke a rib or something or somepony is sitting on my chest and I can’t get my w-wings out.”

“Rainbow?” Rarity took a step towards her friend, forehoof extended in concern. “Rainbow, are you okay?”

Rainbow Dash began to back up, squirming in the corset with ears pulled flat to her head. “Y-yeah, I just–” a gulp “–I just need to fluff my wings out because I think they’re–”

“Rainbow, if you think you need me to take that off of you I–”

“–yeah I think they’re caught lemme just move them out and – I can’t–” Rainbow Dash, panicked, began to stammer “–oh goddess where are where are my wings I can’t feel my–” she turned her head around, eyes bulging at the apparent lack of her wings, themselves writhing inside velvet pockets affixed firmly to her sides. “–R-Rarity where are my wings I can’t feel – I have to get out of this I-I can’t feel my wings get me out ge

Rarity sprung over to Rainbow Dash’s back, yanking on the knot tied into the stays and releasing Rainbow Dash from her imprisoning garment. Through catlike wriggling and a bit of torn fabric, Rainbow Dash managed to shuck the load from her body before flinging herself backwards in the air, hovering a few paces away as she sucked wind through shallow breaths, pupils shrunken to the size of pinpricks.

“Rainbow?” Rarity followed her friend across the floor, noticing that Rainbow Dash was quite liberally tearing up.

She had never seen Rainbow Dash cry before.

“Rainbow?” she asked again, as softly as she could.

How?” Rainbow Dash pointed a forehoof at the offending piece of velvet. “How? How does anypony wear th-that? That’s torture, a-and I know that I’m about as pegasus as it gets and I don’t do well with small places but that thing would probably kill Fluttershy, Rarity.”

Rarity reached out to her friend. “Rainbow, if you–”

D-don’t make me put it back on, please!” Rainbow Dash, with a sniffle, dodged away from Rarity’s touch, swatting frantically. “I c-can’t p-put that on! P-please Rares, i-it’s like you cut off my wings.”

Rarity pulled her hoof back, shaking her head. “Rainbow, I’m not going to make you put that on. Gods, I shouldn’t have made you put it on in the first place, but I’m certainly not going to make you do it again.”

“O-okay.” Heartened by Rarity’s declaration, Rainbow Dash’s breaths slowed down, and she began to slowly drift back down to the floor.

“That’s better.” Rarity gave a soft smile. “I’ll cut some wing holes in it and procure a jacket of some sort to cover your wings or something like that, if you think you can handle that.”

Rainbow Dash nodded. “Yeah, I-I think so, and I could probably keep them inside a dress if they weren’t b-bound up in pockets, like just free in there and I could get them out.” A sniff. “Just no pockets or anything like that, uh, please.”

“Rainbow, the only way you’ll find yourself bound like that again is over my broken and eviscerated corpse.” She gave her friend a playful mane tussle. “And, to preempt your next question, I wouldn’t dream of telling anyone about that. Your reputation will remain intact.”

T-thanks,” mumbled Rainbow Dash, looking down at the ground. “I-I don’t like ponies seeing me like that.”

“I shouldn’t think that anyone would, Rainbow, but take heart that you’ve seen me in far worse.” Giving a final gentle wither-pat, she turned to address the clerk. “Right! Now that we’ve addressed that unpleasant business we can get on to–”

“No, we can’t.”

Rainbow Dash, uncharacteristic meekness replaced with trademark fire, snapped, herself having likewise turned to speak to the clerk. “You’re telling me every pegasus that comes in here is just cool with that?”

The shopkeeper gulped, pale in the face. “W-well, ah, no, the adults are used to it, but the foals–”

F-FOALS? Rainbow Dash’s wings had splayed fully. “Gods, stop talking! Foals? You’re doing this to foals?”

The Bitalian had begun quivering. “N-not exactly–”

“For what? Fashion?” Rainbow Dash raised a threatening hoof. “Because if that’s it, how ‘bout we cut off your horn so you can fit in hats–”

“–Rainbow!” Rarity hissed, giving Rainbow Dash a light but swift kick with her back hoof. “Rainbow, we are not–”

The Bitalian mare gave a choked sob.

Rarity and Rainbow Dash turned just in time to see her pawing at the saw-marks ringing her horn, a shell-shocked and horrified expression on her face.

“…Ah, hell.” Rainbow Dash, sheepish, slouched. “I, uh, guess that might not have been the best choice of words.”

Rarity sighed. “I’d chastise you for your lack of tact, but I suppose I can understand.” She trotted over to the shopkeeper, leaning in close. “Dear?”

The clerk froze.

“Look, I’m … sorry about my friend’s outburst; I can guarantee that she wasn’t thinking about whatever ghastly sort of mistreatment had been inflicted upon you in the past. It was simply an emotional outburst.” She coughed. “That being said, I am forced to agree with her outrage; the thought that anypony would subject a foal to that is abhorrent.”

“The parents request it.” The shopkeeper had, if not quite ceased shaking, mostly composed herself. “Even though the foals always cry.”

“And you persist in doing it anyway?”

“I must; they must start somewhere, as the adults must be used to it.”

“You must?”

“It is the law.”

Rarity huffed. “Of course it is.” A grumble. “Well, that you at least recognize the unjustifiable suffering is enough for me.” She turned to Rainbow Dash. “Is it enough for you?”

“Kinda, but I guess it’s not her fault, so let’s get on with it.”

“Sufficient.” Rarity shrugged. “Anyways, we do have a few more needs – and I will take that dress for her, by the way, although I will naturally be cutting wing holes – if you are capable of fulfilling them; namely, mane and tail dye and a wig for myself.”

The Bitalian straightened up substantially at the thought of further sales. “Er, dye, yes, but not much do I have.” The clerk thought for a moment. “I think I have some of the color-fixer solution, and I may have some other shades if you do not want your own color.”

“Well, the color-fixer will work swimmingly for my friend, although I will be having to match a wig of course.”

“Oh, ah, sì, the wig.” A frown. “I do not have much, just some second-hoof ones from old mares who have died, and all very … distinguished styles.”

Hah!” Rainbow Dash guffawed, mood considerably brightened by the prospect of a new thing to make fun of Rarity for. “You hear that Rares? She’s got the perfect wig for an old lady like yourself!”

“Hilarious,” Rarity deadpanned.

“I know, right?” Rainbow Dash wiped a tear of laughter with a wing before gesturing to the shopkeeper. “Come on, bring them over! I want to see them on old lady Rarity here.”

With a nod, the mare’s horn lit, her unsteady field poking around boxes in search of the aforementioned hairpieces. Horn still lit, she turned her head to address the dubiously elderly mare in the room. “Ah, signora, I must say that you look splendido for your, ah, age most distinguished.”

“No, I’m–” Rarity ungracefully face-hooved. “–I’m not old, dear, she’s just being her usual insufferable self. Rainbow and I are more or less the same age, although I believe I have her by a few years.”

“Oh, my sincere apologies.” The clerk grinned sheepishly. “Then, ah, I am saddened to hear that a mare as enchanting as yourself has fallen prey to the thinning of the mane so early.”

“Oh, it’s just so sad, isn’t it?” Rainbow Dash swooned theatrically. “She puts on such a brave face despite all her mane just falling out – oof!”

Rarity cut Rainbow Dash’s theatrics short with a semi-serious kick to the gut that sent the pegasus crumpling to the ground, grabbing her gut in a mixture of laughter and pain.

“Oh!” The Bitalian whimpered, backing away from Rarity. “M-my apologies contessa, I-I did not know you were so sensitive about the issue.”

“No, it’s not – I don’t have premature mane loss.” She removed her hat, pointing to her horn and exposing the sea of purple and white stubble underneath.

The clerk’s eyes widened. “Oh my! Y-you are a unicorn!”

“By the grace of all the gods and goddesses, yes, I am.” Rarity frowned. “Albeit not much of one presently, but a unicorn nonetheless.”

“Well, it is always a pleasure to see a fellow unicorn. We are not so common here, you see, although – oh, no!” the Bitalian, having given Rarity’s horn another look, had spotted the affixed bandages. “I – I did not realize they also practiced the scoring of the horn in the Old Country as well, and to a contessa as well? It must have been–”

“They do not.” Rarity cut her off. “There are innumerable problems back home, but they absolutely do not perform that level of barbarism.” A shudder. “No, I damaged my horn and mane via a magical accident, not via the actions of another.”

“Oh, well that is … good to know.” The clerk cocked her head. “What kind of accident?”

Rarity, rather than explain the lurid details of the incident, simply produced a contained spurt of fire from her horn. “The inflammatory kind.”

Fuoco? From one’s horn?” The clerk raised her eyebrows in shock. “I did not know such a thing was possible!”

“Neither did I, at least in the quantities provided; hence the accident.” Rarity snorted, then shook her head. “Never mind that anyway – unnecessary details. Show us what you have, please.”

With another nod, the mare, her field having found the wigs mid-conversation, began to pull the first around a stack of fabrics. “I have only two for which I have dyes that will match; the first is a shade of a muted arsenic green–”

“No.” Rarity shook her head. “I will take the other one.”

“Oh, contessa, there is no arsenic in the wig, just the color–”

“Yes, exactly, the color.” Rarity wrinkled her nose in disgust. “Green? How unsavory.” She shook her head vigorously, composing herself. “No, the absence of arsenic is actually a negative, really, because it might kill the wearer before one fully comprehends the horror of one’s present hair color.”

“…So I see.” The green wig went back into the stacks. “Well the other one is … not green, but it is something of perhaps a more, ah, striking appearance.”

How striking, exactly, are we talking – oh sweet Celestia, it’s–”

Held aloft in shaky white field, the wig of interest was magnificent in its ostentation. A high-piled courtly hairpiece in a brutal lithium-fire red, it combined, in equal measures, the form of a highly styled and quite regal fashion as was occasionally worn by the ever-stylish Princess Cadenza in official functions and the mane color of a cheap whore.

It was, thus, the funniest thing Rainbow Dash had ever seen.

Ha! Classic!” Rainbow Dash, efficiently already located on the floor, continued to roll back and forth in laughter. “Oh man Rares, you sure don’t want the green?”

Rarity gulped in horror. “Oh, gods, I can’t wear that! I’ll look like someone spilled Merlot on bed-sheets!” She, with considerable effort, managed to wrench her eyes from the spectacle in front of her. “Are you positive you don’t have anything else?”

“That I can dye your tail to match? I do not.” The mare shook her head. “And, if you are intending for your hairpiece to cover your horn, which I believe you are, then nothing else will work. Everything else is quite reserved in size.”

“Then, oh gods…” Rarity ground a forehoof into her face, then, after a deep breath, removed her hoof, face locked into a miserable acceptance. “Then I’ll take that one, I suppose, and bring on the bleach.”

“Of course.” The mare offered a sympathetic smile. “And, ah, I share your sadness, contessa; your natural purple is lovely.”

“Trust me, I am well aware,” Rarity grumbled. She turned to Rainbow Dash. “Do you need me to help you with selecting a dye? I presume you are already knowledgeable with how color-fixer works, right? Picks a color in one’s mane for the whole thing?”

“Yeah, duh.” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes, turning to the Bitalian. “I think, uh, pretreat five and treatment nine should get me to–” she pointed at the red lock in her mane “–this color all around?”

The mare did some mental math, then nodded. “Yes, it will.” She stepped off towards a back room.

As the two mares watched the Bitalian mare trot around the corner, Rarity turned to Rainbow Dash, eyebrow raised. “Well! Color me – heh – surprised! I know plenty of customers of mine who, even if they won’t admit it, dye their manes habitually and still wouldn’t be as fast on the draw as that.” She chuckled. “Why, if I didn’t know better, I’d say you dye all those colors in your mane!”

“I do.”

Rarity recoiled in shock. “You do?

“Yeah, Rares, all the colors are – nah, I’m just joking.”

“Oh, well, your confidence would have had me fooled.”

“Well, I mean, I do dye the red part. It’s treatment nine.”

Another recoil. “You do?

“Yeah, I have to.” Rainbow Dash explained. “I didn’t used to have to, but the red has kinda faded recently so it looks like mom’s, and the saturation’s all wrong for the color palette of my mane.” She shrugged. “Plus, y’know, we’re in the news sometimes, so I’ve got to keep looking like I did the first time, right?”

“I can’t fault your logic there; Celestia knows I’ve wanted to try spiraling the mane the other way myself, for example, but one mustn't mess with one’s public image.” Rarity took a closer look at Rainbow Dash’s mane; no visible imperfections, which meant that Rainbow probably hadn’t done it herself. “It’s a good dye job. Who does it?”

“Aloe and Lotus.”

“A – Aloe and Lotus?” Rarity clutched a hoof to her breast in semi-serious hurt. “Rainbow, you chose them over me? I just invested in a set of state of the art mane-care suites and you chose them?”

“They’ve got steady hooves, Rarity, and you get a free preen and wax with a mane treatment.” She turned to Rarity, smirking. “Do you have that?”

“No, but that’s a splendid idea, Rainbow. Why, I’ll make sure to start throwing in freebies at once as soon as I return!”

“Oh yeah? What?”

“For you, Rainbow?” Rarity clapped a hoof across Rainbow Dash’s withers. “A free kick in the gut with every treatment.”

“Oh wow!” Rainbow Dash rolled her eyes, shucking off Rarity’s forehoof. “What a steal!”

“Oh, but of course, Rainbow!” Rarity grinned broadly, poofing up a presently imaginary mane with a few throws of the head. “Why, I am nothing if not generosity!”

SCREEEEEEEEEECH!”

Rarity and Rainbow Dash, shocked from their session of shit-shooting with ears flattened to their heads, winced in sync from the ungodly noise emanating from around the corner. As they watched, through squinted eyes, the little Bitalian mare dragged a tin wash-pail into view, huffing and puffing all the way. She, after a few more moments of screeching across the brick floor, dropped the handle from her mouth, evidently satisfied with the placement. “Mi scuso, I know it is noisy, but it is what I have.” She sat back onto her haunches, then looked at her two visitors. “I will fetch the pot of water I have set to warm on the stove and go grab the right chemicals. Who would like to go first?”

Rarity and Rainbow Dash pointed at each other.

She would!”


An hour or so later, Rainbow Dash watched Rarity, head virtually ensconced in that immensely goofy scarlet wig and dressed in what could have passed for her grandmother’s dress, step out of the store. In truth, it wasn’t like Rainbow Dash really had any room for making fun; with her corseted (albeit now decidedly with wing holes) floral dress, withers-spanning pastel blue shawl, and now solely red hair pulled back into a short and frankly devastatingly cute ponytail, she looked, if not ridiculous in absolute terms, so utterly unlike herself as to be equally gutbustingly funny.

So a draw, really.

“What were we waiting on?” Rainbow Dash looked around Rarity, only catching a fleeting glimpse of the inside as the door shut.

“Outside of me getting her address such that I may write to her a later date – she's got talent, you know, more than this place deserves – I wanted to ask her some more questions.” Rarity reached back into a saddlebag, now strapped across the outside of her dress’ bustle, and extracted a pack of cigarettes. “Namely, if she could tell me more about that countess who … mutilated her, and, separately, if she would be willing to send a few more dresses to Mareanello as to give us some changes of clothes.”

“And? Could she?”

“The first no, although I don’t blame her for wanting to keep that out of mind, the second yes, although she was frankly enormously confused as to why anypony would want anything sent to Mareanello, which she confidently told me is essentially deserted.” A grumble. “Which doesn’t bode well for the state of my demesne, but I suppose we’ll see about that soon enough.”

“How soon? Like, a few minutes soon?”

“Three hours walk, two hours trot, as I understand it. I hope you filled up our canteens whilst we waited.”

“I found a well.” Rainbow Dash jiggled the bottles hanging from her hips to emphasize them, sloshes confirming what she had said. “It looked only kinda-sorta clean, so I hope we don’t get, like, cholera.”

“We must hope; I have serious doubts about my ability to, in most basic terms, remove this dress sufficiently quickly in case of emergency.” Rarity pushed her wig back, exposing her horn and lifting a laden cigarette holder to the tip; with a soft “fwish,” it lit, and she placed it in the corner of her mouth, drawing a first puff with a contented slump.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Rainbow Dash agreed. She, after a moment, pointed a hoof at Rarity’s breast. “Nice tuft, by the way.”

Hmm?” Rarity, with an amused smirk, looked down at the neckline of her dress; sure enough, the patch of fluffy fur on her front had, mostly due to the geometry of the dress, sprung up in, to most, attractive ruffles. She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, would you look at that?” She looked back up at Rainbow Dash, then pointed a hoof herself, snorting a few giggles. “Of course, you’re one to talk. Look at you!”

“What? C’mon, I’m – whoa!” Rainbow Dash followed Rarity’s hoof down, finding that the corset and v-neck of her dress had thrown her own naturally lesser fluff out to an almost outrageous degree. “Hey-hey-hey! Look at that!” Rainbow Dash chuckled. “Man, if I ever make full ‘Bolt I guess be replacing ol’ Spits and her sis as the centerfolds in the calendars, eh?”

“Oh, don’t get ahead of yourself, Rainbow; these old dresses are basically cheating. It was very much the style back then.” Rarity smiled broadly. “That being said, remind me to get the top of the next dress I make for you reinforced like that. Helps draw out your … natural qualities.”

“You’d better.” Rainbow Dash sat back on to her haunches, still giggling. “Dang, can you imagine Fluttershy in one of these?”

“Oh, trust me, I don’t have to imagine it, Rainbow; I had her fitted for something of the ilk once.”

“And?”

And Thunderlane caught a glimpse through one of my side windows and promptly crashed into the Apple’s market stall.” Rarity started to laugh a little harder. “A weapon, I tell you. A weapon.”

Ha!” Rainbow Dash fell backwards, rolling around in laughter. “Serves his dumbass right!”

“N-no, you – pfft – m-missed the best part, Rainbow,” Rarity stammered out, wiping a tear with a hoof. “H-he then, after coating himself in applesauce and getting his ass kicked by Applejack he-he waited outside the boutique, sticky and bruised, to ask her to a date.” Rarity fell backwards herself. “Can you imagine? J-just – oh gods – dripping in apples and barely on his hooves, c-camped out at my front door?”

“And?” Rainbow Dash was in conniptions. “D-did it work?”

“You know? I don’t remember.” Rarity managed to sit up. “I think I had been reduced to a howling mess at that point; the sight of him was just too much, you see.”

“Well, I like to think that he did.” Rainbow Dash, with a final hoot, managed to catch her breath. “Dumb as he is, you can’t help but admire the spirit, y’know?”

“I do, Rainbow,” Rarity agreed. “I do.”

A few minutes passed, the levity of the moment passing and the realities of their setting settling in.

Rarity broke the silence. “Rainbow?”

“Yeah, Rares?”

“Are, uh–” Rarity thought for a moment on how to best phrase her question; she eventually settled on the most basic “–are you going to be okay?”

“What, about the wings?” Rainbow Dash answered. “I mean, it’s not fun, but they’re not so bad under this.” She wriggled her wings for emphasis; a few blue feathers occasionally peeked around the shawl. “But I’ll be okay. It’s not like that first thing. That – eugh–” a shudder “–that thing was a nightmare, Rares, like, literally, I’ve had nightmares about stuff like that.”

“Well, yes, but more about … all of this, Rainbow.” Rarity waved a forehoof around to indicate the wider scope of her question. “More the whole ‘I accidentally dragged my friend into pegasus Tartarusthing, because I, for one, feel awful about this.”

“I mean, considering they took a fucking saw to a filly’s horn I think this is just ‘everypony Tartarus,’ but even besides that, no, you shouldn’t feel bad.” Rainbow Dash shook her head. “Rarity, I don’t think anypony thought it would be like this, much less you, and I’d never think you’d have put me in a place like this on purpose.”

“Well, I’m glad you have that much faith in me at least.” Rarity stood up from her seated position. “Anyways, I suppose there’s nothing for it but to try our best to make the most of it, hmm?”

“Yeah.” Rainbow Dash joined her friend in standing. “I’ve got some ideas on how to make this place better anyway. Not a lot better, but a little better at least.”

“Oh yeah?” Rarity raised an eyebrow. “Does it involve placing heads atop pikes?”

“…You know? Yeah, actually, it does.”

“Ah! Great minds, it would seem.” Rarity gestured with a hoof. “Come along, it’s a long walk to Mareanello and, more importantly, my castle.”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t get too excited. We haven’t even seen it yet.”

Rarity scoffed. “It’s a castle, Rainbow. How bad could it be?”