//------------------------------// // Thesis Defense // Story: Professor Rarity's Totally Platonic Romance Curriculum // by gloamish //------------------------------// I don't usually remember my dreams. But sometimes, on drizzly mornings like these when my bed is the only place I have to be, their sensations cling. I burrow deeper in the sheets and try, desperately, to reclaim them: a whispered breath against my ear, the touch of her lips, a tail entwined with my own. But they aren't mine and never were, so in moments or minutes they're gone entirely, leaving me with just a sense of something missing. I quickly figure out that what's missing is coffee, and drag myself towards fixing that. In the kitchen, as the scent wakes me and I comb my bedmane into order, two images come to mind. Both, of course, are Rarity. One is from the night before last, frozen in a sort of disarray I've never seen on her: mane strewn all around on the carpet, lipstick smeared, gaze hazy and hot and wavering like a desert mirage. The other image is from yesterday: her refusal to meet my eyes, her scarf wrapped tight around her neck like the shame constricting my own, her revulsion at the way I'd taken advantage. And I had. No matter what she had offered, that... had surely not been what she'd intended. Only my sloppy recovery attempt, hastily donning the mask of fantasy, broke her away from what I'd pulled her into. It must have washed over her all at once. I shudder. What I did wasn't right, but... she doesn't hate me for it. Otherwise she wouldn't have visited yesterday, right? Spike wanders into the kitchen, rubbing at sleep-rimmed eyes, oblivious to the turmoil swirling in my head. "Mornin', Twi," he mumbles. His claws wander over the countertop, tapping along in a search for the skillet. I nudge it in reach with my magic, and he carries it to the stove, lighting it with a quick burst of flame. "Pancakes?" "Good morning, Spike," I manage, pouring the coffee. I lift the mug with my hooves and slurp from it noisily. It fails to put my thoughts in order. "I'm not really hungry, thanks." "Pancakes," Spike decides. I give a dreary sigh, but don't protest. Spike values food like I value books — too many errands run to the castle kitchens weren't without consequence, apparently. As he mixes the batter, I slump further onto the counter, gazing listlessly out the window. Rarity definitely wouldn't have agreed to a final date if she hated me for... getting carried away. But why did I ask? Am I really so selfish? Not for the first time, I wonder whether Princess Celestia wanted this for me when she assigned me my studies in friendship. With that thought echoing in my head, I push myself up and wander from the counter to the table, seating myself. Cutlery floats from the drawers and is arranged on the table while two plates make their way over to where Spike's working. What really festers, above all else in that conversation, is Rarity's insistence that my passions were dispassionate. That's why I have to do it. I have to prove to her, in the only way available to me, that I'm not just some... detached scientist like I was in Canterlot, treading on the sacred ground of love. Or, worse, some spring-addled filly, uncaring of her affection's target. That's why this date has to be perfect. Not just mature, like the night at the restaurant, but... meaningful. For the both of us. "Pancakes." With a clatter, Spike drops a plate in front of me, holding a stack of fluffy cakes bedecked with syrup and strawberries. "Be nice to the dishware, Spike," I chide him on reflex. Glory, I sound like my mother. I shelf that thought for later — maybe I'll come back to it in a couple years, after I have this whole romance thing pinned down. He rolls his eyes. "I don't think you'd even get any use out of them without me, Twilight. I've seen you eat brownies straight out of the pan enough times." I don't dignify that with a reply, instead cutting into my pancakes with knife and fork, begrudgingly marveling at their pillowy softness. I bring the first bite to my mouth and close my eyes, involuntarily letting out a pleased hum. It's hard to hold onto a bad mood with food reminding me that not everything in the world is dark and bleak and scary. Some things are sweet and fluffy and soft, like pancakes. And Rarity. Ahh, there's that good old cortisol, flooding right back into my system, invigorating me like coffee. Well, almost like coffee. I take another sip. Stress is good. Stress helps me plan. Last night, hock-deep in freakout number three, I remembered that there's a ley wash forecast for tonight, the first peak-firmamental one since the Restoration. I immediately latched onto it, abandoning my other half-formed plans. The hot air balloon ride was a forerunner, for a while, until I thought too hard about the close quarters and the privacy it would grant. Stargazing is perfect. The rain's scheduled to clear around lunch. Astrology's something I'm interested in, related to my mark, but not so arcane as to be inaccessible. Something beautiful in the way Rarity appreciates. And most importantly, somewhere that's not too private, so we can talk but she doesn't feel pushed to explore the more... intimate side of romance. ... And so I don't feel tempted. "Spike, can you take a list?" I ask, still gazing out the window absently. Silence. "Spike?" I turn to him, and he already has quill in claw and arched eyebrow on face. I gape. "You've had your list face on for the past five minutes or so," he explains with a nonchalant shrug. Slumping back in my chair, I sigh. Is my neuroticism really so predictable? I guess if anyone could lay claim to that credit, it's Spike. "Alright. I need to stop by the grocer for some wine, to start..." Dusk finds me waiting outside the Golden Oak, the tide-blue of night lapping against its bark and the product of my errands packed into a picnic basket atop my back. It's a little chilly, but still not enough to make saddle or overcoat a necessity, just a scarf. I like the little nip on the border of autumn, before my winter coat grows in. Spike's inside, probably already snout-deep into a comic, hanging off the stairs or in some equally weird reading position I'd normally scold him for. I consider going back inside and doing just that — proper reading posture is vital — but decide against it. Rarity's not late in the slightest, but still part of my brain is telling me that she won't show up, and I distract it by humming a little tune, savoring the way the notes carry in the crisp air. Despite being the Princess's personal student, despite having entire libraries of knowledge knocking around up there, despite knowing the name and domain of every star above me, sometimes it's helpful to think of my brain as an animal. It needs little snacks, enrichment, and the occasional kind word. That's probably a Fluttershy thing, really. Most of the Friendship Lessons I've learned are easy to trace back to their source, but I always have to take a mental walk around the Kindness ones to realize it's something she's taught me. All my friends have their unique teaching styles — Rainbow's blunt like a hammer, Pinkie sneaks up on you, but Fluttershy's slow like osmosis. There's no big "that's it!" moment, one day you just see it, and it's like it's always been there. I'd never eaten grass before I came to Ponyville. It's simply not the done thing in Canterlot — what pasture grows on the Mountain is sternly cultivated, and its cultivators don't appreciate ponies helping themselves, even if the snooty nobles there could stand to eat anything not presented on porcelain. But down here, on the ground, it's common enough to practically be a diet staple. The first time Applejack stopped applebucking for a snack I gawped at her, and she just laughed. Fluttershy was the one to actually get me to try it, though, and nothing's been able to compare to that raw vitality. Glancing around out of habit, I lean down. The grass in town isn't the best compared to the rolling meadows further out, but it'll do. I bite down to crop the tender green off the top— "Twilight?" I bolt upright, blood rushing to my face and tufts of grass still clenched in my teeth, to find Rarity looking at me with an expression of barely-restrained amusement. "Oh my," she says, swooning in hopefully-mock horror, "I've kept you languishing so long you've resorted to eating turf like a common pony!" Defiantly, I swallow the grass, but it does nothing to abate my blush. "H- Hi, Rarity." "'Hi, Rarity'?" She rolls her eyes. "Twilight, we have been friends for over a year, have we not? Surely we shouldn't suffer such awkwardness," she says, and my eyes are pulled inexorably to the scarf still tied around her neck. "Well, I mean..." I scuff at the little divot I pulled the grass from. "We never kissed before," I say, voice dropping low in hopes of her not hearing. Her silence tells me it wasn't quite low enough, and I claw at myself from within my mind. Why did I say that? She was perfectly willing to pretend, and now... "Can I get a do-over?" I ask in a pathetic whimper. Wince. "With the, starting the date. Not the kissing." Rarity raises an eyebrow. "Twilight, did you often get do-overs on exams?" My gaze wanders somewhere up and to the left of her. "Well, once, I forgot I had one because Shiny was in the hospital, and I cried so hard that Princess Celestia—" "Good grief. Twilight Sparkle, you may not have a do-over." I look down at the grass, ears folded flat. "Oh. Of course, I understand." This is best, really. We call it off here, make a clean break, put all this to rest. A white hoof finds my chin and draws my gaze back up to Rarity. "Because you have not made a mistake. This is not an examination, but a demonstration. Aren't you convincing me of exactly that with this night? That you don't see love as a test to be taken and graded, but an experience to be explored?" My ears perk back up and I nod, eager to get back on track. I don't want to cancel this, of course. Not out of a selfish desire to squeeze all I can out of the opportunity, but out of pride, a willingness to not leave such a sour taste as the night before last must've provided. "Right! Yes. Thanks, Rarity. You know I get..." I trail off, unable to find a nice way to say 'neurotic to the point of derangement'. She smiles at me with the sort of warmth I'm most used to seeing from the Princess. "I know." I blush. Of course she does, what friend of Twilight hasn't sat through one of her freakouts? Then again, Rarity pitches her share of fits, so maybe it's just solidarity. "So," Rarity asks, "where are you taking me tonight?" She looks up at the lit windows of the Golden Oak. "Or have you planned a night in?" Set back on track, I start off at a trot. "There's a star shower tonight, actually! Well," I append with an eyeroll, "that's what the forecast calls it. I guess 'Peak-Firmamental Variegated Astral Ley Wash Event' is too much of a mouthful." She follows me. "Stargazing? You must be keeping up with your 'studies', to choose something so classical," she guesses, referring to the pile of romance books I've chewed through over the last few late nights. "Well, partially... I did really like the scene in Autumn Leaves, Winter Sleet where Tulip Rows finds Moonshadow in the gardens." "Oh, yes!" Rarity exclaims, giving a jaunty little hindstomp of applause as she walks. "Moonshadow has just been disowned by her mother, and Tulip finds her crying, and... Moonshadow asks her to make up constellations! I've certainly reread that scene a fair few times." "Yeah! I thought that was a really clever metaphor of Moonshadow making her own choice to reject her noble birthright and finally be with Tulip, sealed with that kiss that wraps the scene..." We both sigh, lost in our attendant fantasies, whatever anchors hers likely much farther away than mine. After basking in the fantasy a moment, I continue. "But the main reason I chose this... I thought about what you said... before. About being graded." The silence that follows is tar-sticky-dark, and I rush to fill it. "It made me think!.. For love, I shouldn't just be focused on what she likes. I mean, if all I do is love, without offering any of myself... How would she love me in return? And I like the stars, so... I'd want someone who would enjoy watching the stars with me." "You're completely right, Twilight, a little selfishness is needed to balance our generosity. But there's no need to speak in hypotheticals," Rarity says, bumping her shoulder against mine playfully. "I already know, remember?" "Oh. Um. Right." I was hoping not to be reminded of the embarrassing misconception that I've chosen to hide behind. She laughs, more a haughty air than her genuine giggle. "Not to worry, I'm quite effective at secret-keeping." "Well, good!" I huff, trying to seal up the cracks spidering through me, the pain of my own secret-keeping. "There's going to be a turnout for the star shower, so..." My voice drops as something unbidden snakes out. "Can we just not mention that tonight? This is our date, after all." "Star shower? I thought we were going to a Peak-Firmamental Variegated Astral Ley Wash Event, darling." I hadn't realized how much I missed that little term of address until the warmth in it hits me. It's so much like stepping into a warm bath that I stumble a little, like my body expected buoyancy. Not to mention the heady rush from her remembering magical terminology... "Well, whatever it is, we're here!" I announce, voice gone squeaky. Rarity raises an eyebrow but doesn't mention it, thankfully. The hill is, as planned, not empty. Ponies are scattered in loose constellations which reflect the sky above, some with blankets, others sat in propped-up wagons, forehooves propped up on the tailgate. I breathe a sigh of relief as I see nobody I'd put above the level of friendly acquaintance — plenty of ponies I give little nods and smiles as I trot along, but none with which I feel obligated to stop and chat and explain why I'm here with just one of my five friends. Actually... Oh, doy. I finally realize that most of the crowd is comprised of unicorns, and I have a very good reason for being seen with Rarity alone. For anypony who's not a unicorn, tonight would just be an average night of stargazing. Even ley as intense as an event like this presents can only be seen by a unicorn. My last few star showers, my only companion was the Princess or my family, so I'd never really thought about it — even though Spike slept through it every time. He slept through a lot of things, in my defense. Our tribe's shared realm of ley sprawls above Rarity and I, bright lines flowing between all the stars hanging there, from bright to dim. Sometimes I feel jealous of the utility of the ley an earth pony or pegasus can see for their immediacy, but I don't think any of the paintings I've seen of their realms compares to the beauty of the vivid constellations above us, even in the riot of Winter Wrap-Up. But, as I said, immediacy has its appeals, and the beauty of it pales in comparison to the mare next to me. "Y'know, Rarity, before your... assigned readings, I didn't realize you had a type." It's a bold topic of conversation, sure, but it's something I've been wondering after, and I'm really no good at restraining my curiosity. "Hm?" she hums, turning to me. "The characters are all fairly varied, aren't they? Glory, have I become predictable already?" "Well, let's see..." I mumble around the handle of the picnic basket as I pull it from my back. With a bit of help from al-Kawkab, I unfold the blanket I brought, spreading it out on the grass, then letting the glow fade. The evening's spread marches out from the basket in orderly fashion. "There's Tulip, of course," I begin as a wheel of brie wrapped in cloth floats by. "She's certainly well-grounded, but utterly unacquainted with etiquette. She possesses 'a murmured sort of beauty,' and her best qualities are brought out with patience from Moonshine, who introduces her to 'society proper'. "Then, there's Slim Chance," I continue, placing a sleeve of crackers onto the blanket, "the colt from As Below, So Above. When Cirrus Drift meets him, he's doing well on the ground, but has never set hoof on Cloudsdale. Cirrus brings him up and introduces him to the festivals and industry, and generally teaches him to live." "And I don't think I need to say anything about Onyx." A carton of dried figs. "A creature from beyond the firmament... Fantastical, and the very definition of a fish out of water." "Lastly, Dusky." Red wine, 1760 vintage. "An accomplished businessmare with many associates and few acquaintances. Until Salt Spray." Four data points is plenty, but I can give her more if she denies it. She doesn't, instead just tilting her head at me curiously. "I'm afraid I don't follow, Twilight. They come from all kinds of classes and tribes, don't they?" I float the wine past her face, and her eyes track it instinctually, darting about and analyzing the label in a second. The little 'o' of surprise her mouth makes tells me I chose well. "Well, they do have some things in common. All a little withdrawn, with quiet beauty... But the common thread between them isn't their origins," I say, unrolling two wine glasses from a towel with a flourish. "Rather, they all grow beyond their origins, climbing above their station with fiery ambition — always aided by a patient, generous pony. Isn't that interesting?" And so the snare closes. The delightful flush spreading across Rarity's face shows she hadn't even realized there was one until she stepped in it. And yet..."Well, th— that's... completely common, of course! It's a classic way to create tension!" I smirk and draw a little closer, reveling in the satisfaction of a good chase and her embarrassment at being the one predicted for once. "Sure, Rarity, but I of all ponies should know it's far from the only literary device used to create tension. So I just find it curious how it keeps coming up in all your favorite novels!" I lift the bottle and pour a glass each. "Like a good student, I read outside your recommendations, of course. There's plenty of other types of plot: distance created by outside expectations, misunderstandings from miscommunications, even two unlike ponies being dragged into a situation they're equally unfamiliar with." I pass a glass to her. After a moment's hesitation, her aura mixes with mine and I release it. She takes a sip, clearly grateful to be given a moment to hedge. "Oh! This..." She lifts the glass appraisingly. "This is quite good, Twilight." We wander onto the blanket together and sit down. "Is it?" I demur, swirling my own glass and giving it a sniff, then an exploratory sip. Nope, still don't like wine. Ponyfeathers. "The Princess taught me all the good vintages a few years ago, 'in case I ever needed it'." "And you remembered?" Rarity asks, an eyebrow raised as she takes another sip. "Well... The Princess taught me." "Ah, of course," she says, a sly smile half-hidden by her glass's rim. "That, and..." I cast my gaze away, unsure of how much to reveal. "She was sampling as we went, and kept insisting I try the best ones, so we... got a bit silly." It was my first time seeing her drunk, so it definitely sticks in my mind, even if we didn't really do anything out of the ordinary. It was also one of the first times I got drunk, too." "My, my!" Rarity leans in like I'm a particularly sparkly gem. "'A bit silly', hm? Hmmmm?" "That wasn't a euphemism!" I hiss, indignant. "... It just feels wrong to describe the Princess as silly." "Well! I wouldn't hesitate to, myself. I think she can be quite fun — I've seen glances of a filly like us under the weight of all that regality." She pauses for another sip. "And besides, I'm sure you didn't fall in love with her title." Some pillar in me shudders and I look down into the depths of my glass, feeling my face grow hot with shame. "I thought we agreed not to..." I try to keep my tone from admonishment, but I do feel a little betrayed. Rarity jolts, then looks away. "Oh, I'm sorry Twilight. You know how I get... You must be nervous about tomorrow." Her expression is obscured behind that curtain of purple curls. I hadn't even thought about my 'graduation', and the reminder just shrinks me further in on myself, tail encircling my hooves. I take a gulp of wine, and it just tastes bitter on my palate, not a hint of 'floral notes' or whatever ponies get out of the stuff, but it makes me feel a little warmer against the chill. She turns back to me. "I just figured it was an all's-fair situation, seeing as you were so ruthlessly chasing down my own tastes," she teases, and I see right through her attempt to draw me back onto the trail. My heart isn't in it anymore. What good does knowing her taste do, when I don't fit into it? Me, a filly who fell from one book-littered hideyhole to another? Out of place, yes, but ambitious? Maybe somepony in our group fits — Fluttershy's demure, beautiful, and she left her home to chase her dream, but... I don't want to think about that, for obvious reasons. In the silence, Rarity retrieves a knife and prepares a few crackers, spreading brie evenly on each and adorning them with bits of dried fig. "So," she asks, placing the plate of crackers between us, "when does—" She's answered by a chorus of oooohs which jerk my attention upward. Far, far overhead and a little north, at the peak of the sky, glimmers of light like newborn stars twinkle. Slowly, those glimmers spread out and slide downward, streaking the bruised darkness of the night sky with light like raindrops streaked down a window. More and more starlight paints the sky, until the meadow is lit with silver as bright as day. A reverent hush falls over the herd as, for a moment, each forgets their own body, taken by a taste of heaven, that eternal dance among the stars. I've seen star showers before, of course, but comparing them to this... It's as stark a difference as the one between a star shower and a clear night. The Princess of the Night has returned, after all. Princess Celestia puts most of her artistic effort into sunrise and sunset. That's when she splashes the most color across the firmament, and blues suffice for the rest of the day. And while I love her blues, from the crisp horizon to the deep-blue peak, she treated the night similarly when she was borrowing it. All my life, the night sky was black, simple as that. Darkness and darkness, punctuated by bright spots of starry color. With eyes adjusted to the sun, it's easy to think of a shadow as an ink splotch on the world's canvas. But from inside, darkness is so much more, revealing details washed away by the sunlight and little pools of subtle occlusion. Nopony understands that better than Luna herself, and it's reflected in her sky, a swirling sea of cool hues, like each star forms an eddy in the firmament, all of it flowing around the path of the moon. Every night she finds a new way to weave her work into the constellations of ley beyond in a slow process that comes together in the first hour of evening as the light from sunset fades. I've lost many of those hours just staring, watching her work. As usual when I think of the returned Princess, I find a melancholy smile on my face. A millennium of dull, lifeless nights, and I'm fortunate enough to be born in the Restoration. Even on that first terrifying, wonderful evening, even when she was wracked by hatred, some part Luna shared with Nightmare Moon saw fit to make the night brilliant. I felt so guilty, afterwards, with how awed I was by the swirled palette of purples, indigos, and blues above, and so elated when I realized the next night that it was Luna's work I fell in love with, not Nightmare Moon's. Above, her painting on the firmament filters the silver light of the ley wash just beyond, turning that monochrome brilliance into a shimmering, undulating display like an aurora swept over the whole sky. Moving a hoof to my eyes, I find them wet with tears. I hope desperately Luna can feel the love from all her little ponies across Equestria, up there in Canterlot. I'll be sure to write her a letter later. For now, I put my thoughts aside, and see the sky above with my heart, not my mind. The silver-purple light has faded, but it's still dancing behind my eyes when Rarity nudges me. I look at her with a smile, not making any effort to hide any of the love there, and find my expression reflected. It doesn't surprise me — how could one feel anything but love, for everything around her, in a world like this? The thought makes me laugh, and she's surprised enough to join in. Belatedly, I remember the wine, and pour us both another glass so we have an excuse to be as silly as we are. Words don't belong here, yet. We eat and drink in silence, sips of wine and bits of brie and fig and cracker wandering across our palates as our eyes wander across the sky. Finally, when the memory's had time to settle, Rarity speaks. "It's a little embarrassing, but... Despite being half-Prench, I don't actually know many constellations." I shrug, then shuffle forwards a little so I can lie down, hooves skyward. "I mean, the Prench constellations aren't all that important, compared to Starswirl's." "Yet any foal could point La Louche out, and none could find... What was that one you were raving about a moon ago? Twelve, forty-three, sixty..." "12-48-56-213, Starswirl's first invisibility spell. And I could find it just fine as a foal, thanks," I huff. "Even if Starswirl's categorizations have fallen out of fashion in favor of the original Saddle Arabian names, and even if the shapes they form aren't animals or whatever, his constellations are the first recorded compound wishes! He set unicorn magic on a path it still follows today!" Rarity joins me on her back and aims a pout at me. "Sure, but I know that you must know the Prench ones as well, Twilight, and they're much more romantic." "Fine." Even though I sound begrudging, I do know and like the Prench constellations and the meaning behind them, so I can indulge her. I point to a cluster of stars stitched together by ley in vague suggestion of a bird in flight. "That's La Chouette, the owl. The Prench saw owls as both a symbol of wisdom and of death, a reminder of mortality." Rarity follows the gesture and tilts her head. "That's certainly grim. I suppose I can see it, though — Owlowiscious does have a rather serious air about him." "Aw, he's a softie, really..." I grimace at the memory of stepping in an owl pellet last week. "Diet aside." My hoof drifts to point at a conical arrangement of stars and ley that brings to mind a fir tree. "There's Sapin. And right there, at the tip of it: an-Nizm." The star glows a chilly blue, similar to Rarity's own aura. "I know this one, actually, mother showed it to me right after I got my mark... It's the Star of Jewels, isn't it?" "Yep! Its official classification is the Star of Crystals, patron of lapidarists. Cookie Crumbles told you about it?.." Skepticism creeps into my voice — Cookie's kind, certainly, but she never struck me as one with an interest in magic. Rarity glances at me, surprise written on her face, and considers a moment before speaking. "Of course, you wouldn't know... Not Cookie, but my birth mother, Belle." She turns back to Sapin as I desperately try to rearrange what I know about her around this new information. "She and I shared an attunement to it... Her special talent was gemstone appraisal. When I finally came home, late into the night with a geode full of gems, she was so proud... Well, after she scolded me for staying out so late with no word. And for my unladylike tracking of mud into the living room." I push down the pang of still being the odd one out in our friend group. "She sounds like a great mom." Rarity's bitter laugh lets me know I misstepped, but it's followed by a sigh rather than an acerbic admonishment. "She was many things." The past tense churns in my gut, but I bite off my invasive questions. Rarity's eyes have a dreamy cast, like she's looking at the stars but also somewhere between, at a soul dancing among them. "Why is it so bright?.." "Hm?" I ask, still staring at her. She rolls to face me, and I jump back a little as our noses touch. She tries to catch my gaze with her own, but I dart my eyes upward, to the blueish star that's as bright as any other. "An-Nizm. Is it bright because it's the Star of Crystals?" "Oh! It's because your soul's attuned to it. It's how you're able to find it by instinct when you cast gem-related spells," I provide easily. "I see... Then, that other one, there..." she trails off, gesturing to another sector of the sky. I can't see the shine, but I know the star she must be indicating. "Akhiru-n-Nahr. The Star of Searching, patron of fortune seekers. Together, these two stars empower the gem-finding spell that took you as a filly. an-Nizm probably glows a bit brighter because you use jewels in your craft as much as you search for them, so you're a little more attuned to it." "It does! That's interesting... I'd heard of attunement before, of course, I suppose I never linked it to the brightness. So, neither of these shine as bright for you?" Rarity asks. I nod in response, and she gives a little huff. "A shame. They're quite stunning." A moment passes in silence as she gazes at her stars, then she turns to me again. "So, which are yours?" Her mouth opens in a little 'o' of curiosity. "Has your cutie mark been a specific star all this time?" I laugh. "No, no. It's more the concept of just, stars in general? Or, astral ley in general, symbolized by stars. It's really interesting, actually, the way culture influences cutie marks — they're symbols, after all, cultural depictions of real things. Six-pointed stars are common in Equestria, but they were originally adapted from Arabian iconography. If I was raised in, say, the Crystal Kingdom in antiquity, my cutie mark would have four poi—" I catch myself. Rambling again! Flushed with embarrassment, I turn away from Rarity, hoping she simply tuned me out. "Oh!" she exclaims instead. "I remember seeing four-pointed stars when I was window shopping there!" I just nod silently as my brain traitorously replays the conversation in my head, the way I've commandeered its course, falling to the selfish side of the balancing act too easily. "Twilight?" she says, and her chiding tone makes me realize I'm spiraling again. I don't want to look at her, but I know she'd like me to, so I do. The concern is written plain on her face, and it only makes me more guilty realizing how focused she is on me. "Twilight, you know I love hearing you talk about something you're passionate about, don't you?.." "I..." I look away again, unable to believe her. "I know you tolerate it..." "Twilight!" Chiding accelerates into chastising, but she doesn't let me shy away, pushing forward so I can't look anywhere but at her. That doesn't mean I have to make eye contact, though, so my gaze veers down, to the soft fluff on her chest — no, up, just below her eyes, to her snout, to her lips — no, eye contact is fine, maybe. They're twinkling like diamonds, hard with determination. "Twilight, listen to me. I adore your enthusiasm. I cherish your varied interests, and how deeply you plumb them. I treasure the way your voice rises in pitch as you go on, the way your verve builds like a fire. I lov—" Our noses are touching and her breath, hot with fervor, is ghosting across my lips. Simultaneously, we jerk back, retreating to opposite corners of the picnic blanket. I glance around, hoping nopony noticed, and thankfully none of the other couples that remain have... Wait, other couples?! I crane my neck around, confirming that yes, the more platonic groups have all wandered away after the viewing proper, leaving only those less interested in astral observation than amorous inclinations. My eyes rest on a couple engaged in some extremely terrestrial snogging. "Twilight?" My eyes snap back to Rarity, who's looking at me with what seems to be embarrassment. No doubt she's noticed that our outing can no longer be passed off as platonic to other ponies, and will ask to— "Will you show me more constellations?" Then, she bats her eyelashes at me, and all is lost. I walk sedately back to the center of the blanket and lie down again, and she joins me, a gap between us. I'd normally have trouble recovering from that blunder, but fortunately we're right in my comfort zone. "See if you can spot La Baleine. It's near the horizon, toward Canterlot. Seven stars, ley in the shape of a whale." I watch her eyes cast about. This is the Rarity I first fell in love with — searching, analyzing. I've gone in circles, trying to deny the reality that it really was love at first sight, because it sounds so cliche. A sheltered mare leaves Canterlot and falls for the... Well, not the first pony to show kindness to her, but the second. Granted, I'd run out of her shop at the time, but... I was enthralled by that searching gaze and the keen wit behind it. She huffs. "I can't find it." "Yeah, it's a lot easier with a telescope and the entirety of the Canterlot Observatory's reference material, trust me." I raise my hoof closest to her to let her sight along it as I point north. "See?" She hums, then scoots closer, trying to see. "I can't quite..." "Look, it's right—" I feel something tickle my barrel, and glance down to see that it's Rarity's mane. She's resting her head on my chest, face hidden as she lines herself up with my foreleg. "Ah, I see it!" she exclaims. "What does this one mean, then?" "I, uh." Am I breathing right? In, out, right? "It's a whale, and..." Was there a third step I'm missing? Maybe hold? How long? "Whales are big," I explain. She giggles. "Are they, darling?" The way she practically sings it — I think I understand the meaning of 'pet name' for the first time. It makes me feel like I'm a beloved animal who's just done a particularly impressive trick. Oh, Celestia, I've stopped breathing. I'm going to black out. "Sorry," I squeak. "Well, there are so many of them, I can scarcely blame the Prench for not having a story for each, and I can blame you even less." We nestle into a divot of silence, twin gazes lost in the ley above. Her head doesn't lift from my chest. Our eyes wander across the grand web of light that cradles the stars, and I find myself thinking about something Celestia told me, one of many things that seemed cryptic at the time but began to make sense as I learned about other ponies. "What are you thinking about?" Rarity asks. "Celestia," I respond, too star-stupefied to draw my gaze down to her or think about my response. Rarity's silent for a few breaths, and I hope she's decided not to pursue my slip. I can't see her expression, just her mane and her horn jutting starward. "What about her?" Her voice is cautious, small, like she's treading on ice. "... Back when I was living in the castle. I wasn't... wholly friendless. She was my friend, even when I... Well. We were stargazing, charting ley as a theory exercise." "And here I thought you were being romantic, bringing me out here," Rarity whines, rolling her head to study me with one eye. "I hardly expect to be quizzed on a date." "Hey, studying theory together is romantic! This is a Twilight date, not a Rarity one." "I suppose... And I suppose I have been enjoying myself, regardless." Her eye wanders back to the stars. "And the Princess will as well, I imagine," she adds. "Well, I'd definitely need a bigger blanket..." I muse. Maybe she could try to fit, but there'd be scarcely any room left for the picnic, and... I realize exactly what I'm thinking of too late as a blush blooms on my face. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Rarity's face matching mine for shade even as a sly smile creeps onto it. I know she's thinking the same thing, and she knows that I'm thinking the same thing she is. "It would certainly be cozy, wouldn't it? One might have trouble focusing on the stars, however," she purrs, clearly relishing my embarrassment. Even if my supposed crush on Princess Celestia is a convenient excuse, it wouldn't exactly be accurate to call it a falsehood. Having a crush on Princess Celestia as a pony in Equestria is about as common as having four hooves — not quite everypony, but close. It's not the kind of thing where they have a class in school for it, but just about any friendship, given enough time and cider, eventually gallops headlong into the 'so Princess Celestia, huh?' conversation. But this isn't just a casual conversation about a shared attraction — my crush is meant to be more material. How do I convince Rarity of that? Should I balk at the lascivious suggestions, insisting the Princess is purer than that? Do I go the other way, dip so far into fantasy that I scandalize her and scare her off the topic? I realize the weight has left my chest just as Rarity clops her hooves together in front of my snout, snapping me out of it. She's back to sitting on her hinds, facing me. "Focus on the mare you're on a date with, won't you, Twilight?" she says, the sly smile making it clear she's not really mad. I sigh in relief — neurotic spirals save the day again! "You were telling me about charting unicorn ley." "Yes!!" I roll over, away from her, and tuck my legs beneath me against the cold. "We were up in my tower, charts sprawled out everywhere, long after her sunset... I kept asking for one more star, one more star, and... The Princess gets a bit looser when she's sleepy. I was just old enough to know to take advantage of it and just young enough for her to indulge me. Always hungry to know more about alicorns, even back when that just meant Celestia herself and nopony else... So I asked how she saw the ley." I smile at the memory. "She laughed in that unguarded way she has when I surprise her with a question. Then, she asked if I'd like to know a secret." Rarity laughs, then joins me in lying on her barrel. "I can imagine she wasn't fully acquainted with your proclivities at that time." "Yeah. I nodded so hard she had to check my neck to make sure my head wouldn't fall off," I laugh. "Then, she told me that she sees even more of the ley than the ponies of the tribes do." Rarity looks enthralled, and I understand why Celestia had drawn back after telling me that. Surely the wide-eyed wonder on filly Twilight's face was thrice as enamored. "There's a fourth realm, you mean? One for alicorns?" she asks, voice low. I shake my head. "I thought the same. But no, what she's able to see is the whole. What we can only be told, she knows for a fact: the ley of the three tribes is interwoven, not truly separate realms at all." I think back, trying to remember exactly how she phrased it. "She said... that everything flows into everything else. The ley of the earth, through the leaves of the trees, flows into the ley of the air in the lines of the wind." I look up, to the bands of light forming constellations above. "The ley of the air reaches up to the distant stars, and the stars answer in the moonlight shining on the meadows." I feel myself being drawn back into memory and recall her words exactly. "And, like the waterfall that crashes into the river and dissolves into mist and rainbows, that boundary is what Celestia sees the most beauty in, because it's the same mingling that connects all her little ponies." "Oh..." Rarity whispers, looking up at the same ley, squinting as if she could see the way it flows into the nearer realms. All we can see is the slow fading of the ley through the moon-gate down to nothing. "Yeah. I was devastated, of course," I laugh, and Rarity joins me. "Ever since I was a filly I longed for a look into the other realms, and here my mentor was with all three and more besides. But... I think now I understand. Even then, she understood what I was missing. That beautiful mix is something we mortal ponies can only see when we open up to others." "It's a beautiful metaphor..." murmurs Rarity, eyes locked on the horizon. "I can see why she's so fond of it." "Well, I'm not sure that it is just a metaphor. I've heard things — an earth pony with an incredibly strong bond to a pegasus pony seeing traces of air ley, that sort of thing. They're just rumors with no scientific backing, but... I swear, when we used the elements, beyond the light, I could almost see..." "Perhaps you'll see things the way the Princess does after all, then." Her voice is so soft I barely hear it. Smiling, I follow her gaze out to the horizon. "Maybe." The ponies I mentioned weren't lovers, after all. Rarity turns to me with an arched eyebrow. "Maybe? Here I thought I'd filled you with confidence." The idea's been worn down a little, its edges less cutting, even if the core is still patently absurd. It's at least enough for me to hold it and turn it over in my hooves. "It's an exceedingly rare, totally unstudied phenomenon! Besides, even if she said yes, there's all sorts of complicating factors..." Rarity swoons exaggeratedly. "Oh, but therein lies the romance, Twilight! A love forbidden by the court! The nobles, their houses, the drama!" I don't have to hide my eyeroll, hidden as I am by Rarity's foreleg over her eyes. "Can we go back to stargazing, please?" She pouts. "Fine! Show me... an evil star!" I stare flatly at her. "Evil." "Yes! I know al-Kawkab, Star of Floating Things Around," — Sway, I mentally correct — "of course, and all the other helpful bright ones we learn in school, but surely there are some which are turned to darker purposes than gem-finding." "Well..." My gaze slips away from hers. "I do know the classifications of a few dark stars, from when the Princess was teaching me the dangers of that sort of magic..." Rarity leans close, eyes sparkling with curiosity, but I rebuff her with a gentle hoof pressed against her snout. "And every one of them is a piece of highly restricted information, not gossip. Besides, none of them have names or stories, just classifications." Rarity pouts, but continues in her search for romanticism. "What about the stars that freed Nightmare Moon, the ones from the prophecy you mentioned?" "Those aren't really evil — they freed Luna too, didn't they? That quartet did have powers related to seal-breaking, like Fum al-Hut, the Star of Severance." "Then did the stars know that Princess Luna would be saved by the Elements?" "I don't... think so. Ponies have always ascribed some kind of intelligence to them, but I don't think the stars are alive," I say, mind swirling around a familiar internal debate. "Then why did they break Harmony's seal?" "Coincidence? Outside intervention? Or maybe..." I look past the mountains, to the rim of the horizon where a few obscure stars sit. "Maybe?" "I think... No, I believe. I believe the stars want us to be free. Free to do what we will, whether good or evil, not chained to anything, premise or prison or price. I... can't even say why I think that. But I've felt it, since when I was a filly." "Well, Twilight, I think if anyone would know what it is the stars want, it would be you." She's silent for a span, and then whispers, "Celestia's very fortunate." "... What?" I ask, turning to look at her. She looks back at me blankly for a moment, and then her eyes go wide. "Oh! I— I only mean... It's just..." She sighs, then looks away from me, back out toward the light-speckled mountain in the distance. "I only mean that you are a stunning match for her. Intelligent, incisive, wise far beyond your years... You really do deserve Canterlot, much more than all the needless nobles who cling to it." I look into the depths of my third glass of wine. "It's just a city, Rarity," I say, for what must be the hundredth time. "There's no deserving or not deserving it. But if there was, you absolutely would." She sighs. "You're right, darling, I really should be over it by now. It's just so... romantic. You know how hopeless I get with that sort of thing." I scooch a little closer so our flanks press together, enjoying the warmth coming off her. She really is suited to Canterlot, with how much hotter than me she runs. It's like all her passion forms a furnace inside her. "Actually, professor, I find you're far from hopeless with romance," I snicker. Her tail flicks and ghosts along mine momentarily. A shiver crawls up from my dock at the feel of her hairs carding through mine for an instant. "I'm sure you know better than most that theory and practice are quite different," she says, somber. I frown at the solemnity in her voice, then realize what must be wrong. I've taken her to a field of lovers, and here she is in the silence, alone despite the pony next to her. And even if I can't be the one who fills that void, I can at least... Only then, lips inches from her cheek, does it occur to me to wonder why it is so quiet. I glance around us to confirm, and find everypony but us has left. All at once, I remember how close we are to the Everfree. Most of the land in other directions around Ponyville is cultivated, so the meadows close to the forest are the best location for stargazing, but they're also dangerous — any manner of thing can wander out of those woods. Cockatrices, manticores, timberwolves... I whip my head back around to scan the treeline, wondering what's approaching, whether it's best to run or stand our ground... The answer comes in the form of a fat drop of rain, right on the tip of my nose. A rogue storm is certainly one of the monsters that could wander from the Everfree. Everypony who was actually stargazing instead of staring out at Canterlot had plenty of time to head for the cover of town, where pegasi on night shift could hem it back. Us, however... My eyes turn skyward to the menacing clouds just in time to get a faceful of downpour and an earful of Rarity's shrieking. Instincts as engrained as walking fail me as my half-formed shield flickers and fades. "Twiliiiiight!" Rarity is whining, oblivious to the fact that I'd be perfectly capable of shielding us if not for her warmth still sticking to my mind. For a moment I wonder if the whole 'romance' thing is worth it if the heights of it fluster me so thoroughly it impacts my magic, but then the wish catches and shimmering pink surrounds us, perfectly tuned to allow air but not rain. I turn proudly to Rarity, only to be met with a sodden glare. "Think you'll finally take me up on shield lessons?" I ask with a sheepish smile. It's become more a running joke than a real suggestion at this point, but I do genuinely want her to wish on some of the more protection-oriented stars. As I pack the picnic away and wring out the blanket, she responds with flared nostrils, then a flick of her mane. "Well, it's useless anyhow, seeing as we're both soaked through," she huffs, downing the last of her wine and passing the glass to me. A discordant idea crosses my mind, its travel eased by the alcohol, and I glance up at the rain pattering at the shield's apex and flowing down its sides. "Oh?" I ask, tone as dripping with innocence as we are with water. "Useless? Well, if you say so..." And just like that, the shield vanishes, and the sound and worse of the storm pours in. Rarity wails with tones of betrayal and breaks into a gallop, and I chase after her, a bright laugh matching her trailing whine. Sure it's mean, but she insulted Starswirl's constellations, so she had it coming. We're racing, even if she doesn't know it, and I pull ahead as the first cottages come over the hill. But then, with an instinctual call to bright al-Kawkab, she trips me right into a puddle. A fading blue spot of sway on my forehoof is my only evidence, but the manic grin she flashes over her shoulder is confirmation enough. It freezes, along with her hooves, when she realizes I've fallen and not risen. The scourge of deluge forgotten, she canters back to me, calling out. "Twilight? I only meant to slow you down a little, are you alright?.." A little closer... "I'm fine, Rarity, I just..." Her eyes widen in concern when I wobble to my hooves only to slip and fall again, splashing more mud on my coat. "I just..." I say, voice labored and hard to hear even without the downpour. "Yes, Twilight?" she asks, leaning deliciously close, sympathy and guilt clear on her features. That's alright, though. It'll come out with a little water. Before she can react, I use both forehooves to splash her with the very puddle she pitched me into. "I just had to get you back!" I yell over her squeal, jumping up and racing past her. She growls, and I can practically feel her hoof-falls pounding after mine, but it's too late! The library door's in view, a silently agreed-upon finishing line, and I yell with giddy glee as I race towards it, and— And it's too late! I brake hard, leaving two great skids in the grass I just know Spike is going to be upset about, but it's not enough. All I can do is squeeze my eyes shut and hope to the heavens he left the door unlatched... He did. It doesn't save me from momentum, only spreads its indignities across a broader span — specifically, the space from doorway to doorway, leaving me by the kitchen with a clear trail of mud and torn grass marking my passage. "Owwwwww," I groan, more out of self-indulgence than pain. I perk up at the noise of hooves in the doorway and look up. Rarity's there, trying and failing to look miffed. I probably shouldn't enjoy making her squeal so much. "Well!" she says, lifting her snout as she walks in, careful to only track her mud where I've tracked mine. "What an indignant end to such a lovely night." "You're just mad I won," I say, dripping with smugness and also water. "Through treachery, perhaps!" she responds, soaked in self-pity, hypocrisy, and, yes, water. It occurs to me to procure some towels, and I will, once I'm done enjoying the smoldering ache of victory and exertion and tumbling across the wooden floor. My view of the warmly lit wooden ceiling is interrupted by a familiar dragon with a familiar expression: a mix of concern and irritation that I've come to call concerritation. Internally, anyway. "Twilight." Spike's tone is flat. "You okay?" And his words are sympathetic. It's a nostalgic blend, as familiar as one of Celestia's teas, honed over years of looking after the mare who's supposed to be looking after him. I smile, and think of the breakfast he served so thanklessly that kept hunger from shredding me into more of a mess. "Thanks for the pancakes, Spike." "Aaaaaand you're concussed." "I never thanked you!" I explain with a giggle. "You're owed." "And you're weird," he says, unimpressed. "What's gotten into you? More importantly, what's gotten into our foyer?" This is a phase he's gotten into: picking up whatever Prench words have haplessly wandered into Equestrian and giving them a tour of the place like they're an old friend, complete with accent (the wrong accent. It's /eɪ/, not /ɚ/.) This room is absolutely not a foyer, but I haven't had the heart to tell him. Instead, I roll to my hooves and glance behind me at the muddy mess, snickering Rarity included. "Your dear friend Rarity?" I say in a desperate and transparent ploy to distract him. It doesn't work, of course. "Yep, and I know for a fact this mud wouldn't be her fault." Incorrect, mostly. "So who's going to clean it up?" he asks, tapping his hindclaws against the wooden floor. It's not the first time I've wondered about getting carpets just to thwart him. "... You?" I ask, looking back at him hopefully. He holds for a moment, then sighs. "I'll get the mop and a bucket, but you're using them," he relents. "... And some towels. You're both soaked." A shivering, sheepish smile does little to appease him, and he vanishes down into the basement. "Thank you, Spikey!" Rarity singsongs after him from the other end of the room, still unwilling to bring more mud in. I shoot a dirty look at her. "A little chivalry would've helped." She bats her eyelashes innocently. "And get on dear Spike's bad side? I could never!" "I'm not sure the little guy has a bad side, when it comes to you. Me, on the other hand..." I trail off and stand, trying ineffectually to wipe the mud off my fetlocks. We both stand there, unwilling to track more mud around, the room's width making it odd to talk but odd to simply stare as well. The memories of the night lay in the space between us, and we both seem to take time sorting them all into place. For me, each stolen glance and treasured touch is secreted away into a drawer of mental keepsakes. For her... At the start of the night I would've said I don't know what she thinks of these. Now... I'm still unsure. But the gaze that traces the rings of the tree beneath her belies some deep churning of memory beyond a friendly outing. Where I expect shame to twist up my gut, there's only a comfortable lightness. She looks beautiful, flushed from exertion, mane soaked and slicked to her neck, eyes distant and not fixed in her usual sifting gaze. It's as if each piece of presentation has fallen away, and this... It isn't the 'real' or 'true' Rarity, because every piece of her presentation is part of her. But it's a private Rarity, and I'm honored to see it. "I'd invite you in for tea, but..." I wouldn't be able to keep my hooves off of you. I shake my head a little to wave off the thought. "Yes, right now I simply want to get home and have a bath. Besides, we've both got to be up early tomorrow. Much to do, hm?" Yes... Perhaps not the train to Canterlot she's thinking, but there is much to be done. "Right. Can I... walk you home, then?" "Oh, that's not necessary." My heart flops. "Have you scheduled a chariot?" "I was... thinking of taking the train, actually." Not technically a lie. I have the ticket I bought this morning. Now... Even going through with any form of charade makes me feel queasy. I've told more than enough lies. "Hardly the mode of transport for a Princess," she says with feigned disdain. Then, she asks a question I'm not prepared for. "Is it... one-way?" "Rarity." The steel in my tone makes her jump a little, and I take a moment to soften it. "I'd never abandon my friends. Even for romance. You know that, right?" "R-right," she says, looking guilty. "I apologize, my... My fears got the better of me, for a moment." Just as I find myself thinking to ignore the mud and trot over there, Spike emerges from the basement with a mop in one hand, a bucket in the other, and a stack of fluffy white towels balanced on his head. "Cleaning crew, coming through!" I lend a hoof, levitating one towel over to Rarity and the other to myself. Rarity wastes no time, toweling off as much of the mud as she can. "I thought I was the cleaning crew tonight?" I ask as Spike trots past me into the kitchen for hot water. "Oh, yeah." He stops midway and blushes, self-conscious. "I guess I got so caught up in the prep that I forgot." I laugh. Little guy gets excited for the weirdest things, but I guess I'm in no position to criticize. "I'll just see Rarity off and we'll split it so we can get to bed on time, alright?" He nods and disappears into the kitchen while I cross the room to Rarity's side. "... Sorry about the mud," I finally apologize, cringing. At least none got in her mane. She lifts the towel away from herself and grimaces at the mess. "Well, it's as I said, no? All's fair." "Oh, are we at war now? After one puddle?" She laughs at that, and then hiccups, and then flushes. My stomach does a little flip, and I wonder if maybe I should offer tea after all, and I wonder if maybe she would accept. Instead, she says, "I believe that's my cue to bundle myself off homeward, Twilight." I nod, shredding my fantasies like lesser wards. "Thank you for watching the ley wash with me, Rarity. I'm really glad I got to share it with you." "It was truly beautiful, wasn't it?" She turns and shoulders the door open, and I furtively glance over my shoulder to confirm Spike's still in the kitchen and can't see the furrow I dug in the earth. Turning back, I see Rarity's faced away from me, looking up at the stars. "Twilight... There's something I haven't had the chance to teach you in these lessons. Not that it can be taught." Her sober tone and hushed voice immediately arrest me, and I just stare at her violet mane. "What's that, Rarity?" I ask, voice similarly low. "... Far past the flirting and flushes, I know that there lies something truly special, something your assigned reading never gets to. These lessons would never be able to cover that, no matter the approach. It must be experienced." I scuff my hoof against the wood. "I always thought of that stage of things as a bit... unromantic. I mean, I don't exactly look at my parents and think 'romance'." "I thought the same of mine. And it's not exactly the sort of thing they write novels of, is it? Regardless, as much as courtship makes my heart race..." — and there's something there, in her words, material, recent — "... I'm equally excited to have... a friend closer than any other." I think of myself, an alone-not-lonely mare in a hot air balloon drifting down to a nowhere-town. I think of five stars arrayed. "I think I know what you mean, Rarity. But even if... No matter what happens, you should know... You're a dear friend to me." "And you as well, to me, Twilight Sparkle." She turns half back toward me, mane still hiding her face. "I must bid you good night, now. It's been wonderful, all the way through." I step forward and raise the cleaner of my two forelegs, then use it to brush her mane aside, revealing moist eyes that dart to me, unsure. Before I can second-guess, I lean forward and press my lips to her cheek. For even if she's to help me get ready in the morning, this is where the charade ends, in the same place that it began, here on my doorstep. And I know for sure, as she breaks eye contact again and leaves without a word, that there can be no more pretending.