//------------------------------// // Chapter 1 // Story: One Last Halloween // by Tumbleweed //------------------------------// “Are you done yet?” Sweetie Belle whined, not for the first time. “I would be done by now, if someone would stop squirming.” Rarity huffed, not for the first time. She worked one last line of stitches, affixing a lacy cuff into place on her sister’s dress. The two of them had played out the same exchange countless times before, which didn’t make it any easier. “I don’t get what the big deal is. Like, isn’t this fancy enough already?” Sweetie Belle used her free hand to pick at the acres of ruffles and sashes wrapped around her. “I can assure you, it is not.” Rarity said, fingers still working away with expert precision. “I have spent hours on research, staring at renaissance paintings until my eyes hurt, just to get every detail right, and so help me, you will be the prettiest and most historically accurate princess there ever was on a Halloween.” “But this is taking foreeeever!” Sweetie Belle looked longingly out the window, where the setting sun painted the sky in shades of red and orange like something out of a spiced coffee commercial. “We should be out getting candy by now!” “Everyone knows you don’t start trick or treating until dark.” Rarity worked one last stitch, then snipped off the extra thread. “Besides, our friends aren’t even here yet.” “But it’s almost dark and Applejack’s pulling up right now.” Sweetie Belle took a step back, out of immediate tailoring range, and pointed out the window where, sure enough, a rickety old pickup truck pulled into the driveway. “It is? She is? Oh!” Rarity tossed her needle and thread back onto her sewing table and shoved her gown-clad sister out of the bedroom. “I still need to put on my costume. Stall them! Be social! Give them candy if you have to!” Sweetie Belle blinked. “But I--” “No time!” Rarity said, and slammed the door behind her. This done, Rarity made a quick, frantic circuit of her room, scooping up the individual costume pieces and donning them as fast as she could. Knee high boots went over tight breeches, and a doublet with slashed sleeves made for a fine contrast with a shoulder cape in red wool. Rarity hung a (fake) rapier from a (real) leather baldric, then put on the outfit’s piece de resistance: a broad brimmed hat with an impressive white plume thrust into the band. She spared a moment to examine herself in one of her bedroom-slash-sewing shop’s many mirrors, then tilted her hat to an appropriately rakish angle. “Perfect.” Rarity winked at her reflection, thrust a pair of gloves into her swordbelt, then went out to meet her friends. Her boots clomped across the hardwood floor as she rushed over towards the front door, where Sweetie Belle happily chitchatted away with the Apple sisters. Apple Bloom was dressed for the occasion in a functional but classic witch’s hat and long black dress, while Applejack just wore her regular jeans and flannel, with only some vaguely skullish facepaint as a nod to the season. Rarity waited for a lull in the conversation, then swept her hat off and bowed deeply. “Rarity d’Aubigny, at your service.” “Happy Halloween to you too, sugarcube.” The corner of Applejack’s black-painted lips turned up in a wry smile. “That’s a pretty fancy pirate costume you got there.” “I’m not a pirate.” Rarity said, perhaps a little too quickly for politeness’ sake. “I am a musketeer.” “What’s the difference?” Applejack said. “Why, what isn’t the difference?” Rarity tossed her shoulder-cape back, all the better to showcase her hand-crafted attire. “A pirate is little more than a smelly thug on a boat. Whereas a musketeer is a gallant, stylish adventurer devoted to the greater good of the Kingdom.” As Rarity and Applejack devolved into their typical friendly bickering, Applejack and Sweetie Belle rolled their eyes and moved off towards the kitchen in search of snacks. Applejack pushed the brim of her cowboy hat up. “And the ‘Rarity Dee-Aubignee bit? That from something?” “Not exactly?” Rarity said, perhaps a little too quickly for honesty’s sake. “I was, er-- just getting into character, that’s all. Method acting, you know. But!” She looked Applejack up and down and seized on the opportunity to change the subject. “Just what are you supposed to be?” “Uh. Dead?” Applejack shrugged. “And scary?” She at least proved the latter part when she reached behind her back and produced a rusted hatchet. “Grr.” Applejack said, without much conviction. “Applejack!” Rarity said, aghast. “Is that a real axe? Someone’s going to get hurt!” “Pssh, relax, sugarcube. This thing’s older than Granny Smith and duller than watchin’ paint dry.” Applejack ran her thumb over the blunted edge of her hatchet. “It ain’t gonna hurt nobody. Just figured I’d grab somethin’ out of the barn instead of spendin’ a buncha money on a plastic thing I’m just gonna use once n’ throw away.” “While I admire your … frugality, darling, don’t you think you could’ve been a bit more creative in your costuming choices? Why, all you would have had to do is ask, and I’d be more than happy to provide something.” “I bet you would.” Applejack slid the handle of her dulled hatchet into her belt and crossed her arms. “You’d just love to truss me up in some fancypants getup with like, fancy stockings and a corset and all that fancy stuff.” “Gasp!” Rarity said the full word. “To think that I would foist a costume on you against your will? What kind of designer would I be if I didn’t know how to properly interpret my client’s requests? Even if you certainly have the legs for fishnets.” The designer-turned-swashbuckler looked Applejack up and down, briefly biting her bottom lip as entirely too many design possibilities raced through her head. Before Applejack could notice (or at least mention) the slight flush rising in Rarity’s cheeks, a knock came from the door. “And that’ll be the rest of our expedition.” Rarity said, and opened the door to a pair of slavering monsters. “ALL HAIL GARGANTULON!” Rainbow Dash’s muffled voice issued forth from behind a set of foam-rubber mandibles. She shuffled forward as best as her centipede-kaiju costume would allow, trailing a multi legged tail behind her like the world’s most awful bridal train. “And Crabulous!” Scootaloo clicked the pincer-gloves she wore and scuttled in behind Rainbow Dash, the plates of her monster-crab costume clattering. “You kept the centipede costume.” Rarity said with a little sigh. “Why am I not surprised?” “Of course I did!” Rainbow Dash beamed through the mouth of her bug-eyed monster costume. “When else am I gonna get to wear it? And since Scootaloo’s dressed up like Crabulous, that just makes it double cool!” “Crab-u-whatnow?” Applejack blinked. “Crabulous!” Scootaloo clicked her claws again. “Gargantulon’s best friend!” “Crabulous is the monster that gets beaten up at the beginning of a lot of Gargantulon movies to show how strong whatever the new bad guy is.” Rainbow Dash said with the confident authority of a longtime fan. “That’s a pretty … specific costume, there.” Applejack peered down at Scootaloo in her crab costume. “There’s nothing wrong with specificity.” Rarity gestured vaguely to Applejack’s black and white facepaint. “Especially when the alternative is something generic.” “Aw, don’t listen to her, Applejack! I think your rodeo clown outfit is cool!” “Rodeo clown?” Applejack sputtered. “What makes ya think I’m a rodeo clown? My makeup’s all wrong, and I ain’t even got a barrel.” Rainbow Dash shrugged her segmented shoulders. “Hey, white facepaint, cowboy hat, you’re a rodeo clown.” “I--” Applejack held up a protesting finger, then sighed in resignation. “Rarity, didn’t you say you had an extra costume laying around?” “Why darling!” Rarity’s eyes shone in eager anticipation. “I thought you’d never ask.”