//------------------------------// // 07- Bubble Baths and Master Makeovers // Story: Fall of the Alicorns // by Rara //------------------------------// Disclaimer: CC Cover art and all written material within is intellectual property of user Persianjuliet, and may not be used without consent of the author. My Little Pony and all related characters are property of Hasbro and Lauren Faust. Song: Born To Be A Dancer by Kaiser Chiefs “Waves on the water, smooth and slow. Follow me, follow me, pretty little filly. Follow me, follow me, over the sea. Naaa na na na, follow me. I can’t be away from you, stormy out at sea. Follow me, follow me, loyal little mare. Follow me, follow me, if you dare. Naaa na naaa, follow me. Love me, love me, follow me.” I sang quietly to myself, recalling the words of an old sea-pony’s song that I had learned from my father when I was a foal. It was about a sailor named Kelp Caller who fell in love with a mare who didn’t return his affections. Kelp Caller then lost his wings in a terrible accident. Determined to prove himself to his doubting love, Salty Mane, he builds a boat and sails away to make his fortune. Salty Mane, realizing her real devotion to him, follows him on his journey. The two are never heard from again, but it is said that they found a new home on the other side of the ocean, and lived happily ever after. I used to love that song, and my mother would sing it to me when I was sick. It was the first glimmer of romance in my young life, and my secret hunger for sappy love stories and tales of true love grew from that one spark. The huge bathroom, tiled in white and gray marble, reverberated and sent echoes of my voice bouncing from wall to wall as I sang. I splashed around a little, swishing my unbraided tail through the water. The master bathroom was massive. I sat in a bathtub that could have comfortably accommodated four or five other ponies, with clawed feet and a complicated-looking array of copper pipes. The counter was made of the same gray and white marble as the tiles, and a mirror that covered one entire wall was expertly lit by a plethora of lamps. A thick, plush rug decorated the floor, making for a luxurious bath-mat. I reclined against the edge of the tub, my face almost completely submerged. My horn glowed amber-yellow as I reached magically for one of the countless brightly-colored bottles lining the sides of the tub. This bottle was sky blue, and half-full of a creamy-looking light blue liquid. There was no label to be seen on the bottle. Carefully, I unscrewed the cap and gave it a cautious sniff. It smelled like lavender. The bottle tilted as I poured a dab of it on my hoof. It felt good on my skin as I massaged it over my forelegs. Replacing the bottle, I took up a comb from where I had set it and continued untangling my mane. I had released it from its usual braid, and it hung in wet, unruly straggles across my neck. I gritted my teeth as the comb caught a particularly vicious snarl, tugging at it until the hair straightened and lay smooth. I released the comb from the grip of my magic, setting it back on the counter with a click that sent echoes through the acoustically deafening room. A second, unexpected sound made me jump- a knock at the dark-stained wood of the bathroom door. Water sloshed over the side of the tub, and I winced guiltily. As I mopped at the puddle with a towel held in my magical field, I answered the source of the sound before they could knock again. “I’m almost finished; just give me a minute to dry off.” “No need! I’ve got a quicker way.” The handle turned and Pirouette pranced inside before I could protest. Vibrant pink magic glowed as Pirouette set to work. I hastily clambered out of the tub to be received by a think, fluffy towel that quickly set to rubbing me dry. I sputtered as it briskly dried my face, trying to see what Pirouette was up to. Her magic lit the room as she set to a series of tasks with mind-boggling speed. She pulled the plug to drain the bathwater, righted a bottle I had knocked over in climbing out of the tub, mopped up the water from the pristine tiles, grabbed a selection of brushes, combs, and bottles from a cupboard, and finally released me from the grip of her magically animated towel. I stood on the bath mat, looking ridiculous. My coat stood up in tufts and clumps, all pointing the wrong way, and my mane was frizzy and ruffled from her rubbing of the towel. “How am I going to get ready?” I asked the mirror and Pirouette. “I only have a little over an hour.” The delicate pick alicorn beamed. “I’ll get you looking date-worthy in five minutes. Flat.” I looked at her askance. “Really? How?” “Just hold still.” I walked out of the bathroom six minutes later looking like a whole new mare. My coat was smooth and shiny, my mane and tail were tamed in a complex braid, and I smelled like citrus and jasmine. It wasn’t that I didn’t care about how I looked- I usually spent a fair amount of time on my appearance, not wanting to give my peers anything else to look down on me for- but I never had quite the resources or skill to take primping to this level. I had to admit to myself, Pirouette was a mare of her word. In a tornado of beautification, I was transformed. I questioned her about it as we walked downstairs. “How did you do that so fast? I thought your special talent related to dancing,” I pointed at her Cutie Mark, “not makeovers.” The graceful alicorn tossed her head, smiling. She glanced at her Cutie Mark fondly- a pair of ballet slippers- before answering. “It does. But when you dance professionally, you get used to rapid costume changes between numbers. You need to be an expert at looking perfect, quickly.” I nodded, satisfied with her answer. Low Tide waited at the bottom of the stairs. He had been talking to Common Ground, but they fell silent when they saw us. Guy talk, I thought to myself. Stallions are all alike. Pirouette preempted any remark we might have made by twirling into a quick kiss with Low, then twirling away towards the wide front doors. “Hi Tidey! Bye Tidey! I’ll be back as soon as I can, but first we’ve just got to get this dress.” Low shrugged, accepting his marefriend’s eccentricities. He gave me a wry look and a grin as we swept past him. Dragged helplessly in the ballerina’s wake, I followed her out the double doors and into the well-lit street. I looked over my shoulder in time to see Common Ground shutting the door behind us. I caught a glimpse of his face; enough to see his professional composure marred by a tiny, fatherly smile.