//------------------------------// // She Complains...! (pt. 3) // Story: Everybody Dupes // by Heavy Mole //------------------------------// Sweetie Belle’s prolonged absence raised the suspicions of all the ponies who were waiting for her back in the Sunrise Suite. Fluttershy and Mrs. Gables found a corner in which to converse, as the others seemed to have become sullen and untalkative in the anticipation of the execution of their prank on Rarity. But having little in common—the old lady had never once touched a coloring book—their conversation returned, by and by, to the spectacle of Sweetie Belle’s costume change that they had both seen, and all the preparation for that performance, and how it ought to be the funniest thing either had been audience to in years. So went their circular talk as the Princess, the ‘Pataphysicist, and the Florist formed private camps in different parts of the room. Twilight sat at the round table, having tired of the conspicuousness of the bed, and stole glances at the door; she now would have welcomed an intrusion from Ms. Winsome, or a maid in contact with her, who bore tidings of the conclusion of the experiment. She felt her eyes get heavy, and worried that if it took too long to identify the cretin she would be forced to chose between the welfare of Ponyville and her punctuality with regard to a highly formal panel appearance at a beer-tasting competition in Griffonstone. For her part, Pinkie Pie might have been pleased at the delay in the outcome, as evidence that Rarity had recognized her sister, and had therefore gone beyond pleasantries with her (as indeed they had); but so tuned was her mind to the machinations of scientific reasoning that she wondered whether the lapse in time was itself proof of the relativity of nostalgia, as between two sisters meeting after such a stretch of events and locations; and whether, as Fluttershy had earlier suggested, things were passing much more quickly in the Sunrise Suite than in other certain parts of Equestria, such as the room across the hall. The conclusions of her own truth-seeking began to weigh on her as she gazed into her glare in one of the room’s benighted windows—what would be the significance of home, and personal change, and friendship, if each pony was bound to their own time, anyway? More cheese… But even more to her present dismay, Roseluck had stationed herself with the charcuterie board, taking two bites to eat each single square she took from it. She stood next to Fluttershy and Mrs. Gables, but kept her eyes on Twilight and Pinkie Pie. She had begun to ponder the Princess’s use of magic, which seemed to her a hard squeeze for what, apparently, was meant to elicit a quick laugh; and, seeing how serious they had become in the interstice to the result, she supposed that Pinkie and Twilight held a secret pact of some kind with one another—but yet was too short of proof, to risk flying to accusations before such honored company. Of a sudden, Sweetie Belle and Rarity entered the room in a grand style, laughing and fleering as though they had just come off carousing together at a cocktail lounge. In the hall, Sweetie Belle had mentioned the need for their final deception, that is, for Rarity to act out the surprise which she imagined her supporters in the Sunrise Suite to be innocently looking forward to. And so Rarity ended a peal of aristocratic laughter, finding herself in the midst of acquaintances of old, with a gasp that made the others wonder if one of them was sitting on a breakable antique. “Oh, Twilight!” she said, “you didn’t mention that you’d be entertaining so many guests! How lovely. And here I thought that you had abandoned me in that little bedchamber and completely forgotten the matter! Well… I’m happy you’re all here, because I’d like to introduce you to my new friend, Tuesday Hills. If you would step forward, dear.” Sweetie Belle swaggered over and tossed a leg over her sister’s shoulder. “Nice ta meet’ya! It’s, uh… a pleasure to make your acquaintance, ovah here.” “…And she’s a fellow Manehattanite!” Rarity said. “How about that? But surely, Ms. Hills, you’re being extra courteous for my sake... You must have already met some of these fine ponies.” Sweetie Belle gave her a knock on the cheek. “Ey…! More than you might imagine, toots.” She winked at the others and removed the glasses Gray had given her, exposing her true identity for her sister to see. “Surprise! It’s me!” she said. “Why—it’s—what—Twilight!” said Rarity, holding up her sister’s hair, and inspecting her nostrils. “Let me look closer, because I don’t believe it—Oh! oh! I’d recognize that nose anywhere. It really is her! It really really is!” Fluttershy applauded the performance and was overcome with laughter as Rarity continued to solicit reactions from her crowd; but whether that performance was under-executed compared with the practiced expertise of her sister’s, or whether she simply lacked a commitment to the internal experiencing of her role, the feeling of tension between camps rose—until a sound burst through the room, and, like a shot fired at the opera house, sent all parties into a frenzy. For Twilight, upon seeing that Rarity had been successfully duped by her sister, and wishing to put an end to matters without further delay, sparked her horn so that the room glowed with its charge, and loose stationery whirled about in its twisting force. These sights, however, were no deterrent to her opponents, who cried imputations against her in the tempest; the first Roseluck, who had experienced flashbacks of the invader’s colors and mannerisms watching Rarity’s presentation, and who insisted that her presence at the conference was a sign of conspiracy against her, on the part of the loathsome Friendship Council, whose design it was to destroy small businesses; and the second Pinkie, who interpreted Rarity’s wooden acting as an indication of inside joking, and who was therefore convinced that her world-adjusting Interferometer had not been falsified by a negative result. “This is a public safety issue!” Twilight hollered back beneath the blowing wind of her magic. “You have no right to interfere with public safety, Pinkie, which is all you are doing now!” “Hoh, well!” returned Pinkie, holding fast the top of her blustering mane. “You’re saying I’m dangerous to mental health, Little Miss ‘I wanna go zip! zap! zap!’ at all my best friends?! Why don’t we ask Rose what the monster looked like, shall we? …What about it, Rosey Rose?” “…Ever since that new mayor stepped into office…” Rose could be heard, between spats of paper being flapped against her face, “…the land and commercial management policies of this township have been devoted to nothing but gentrification… Clean up the sidewalks, lay some patterned bricks here and there… An increase in property values without a like improvement in business, I’m not afraid to say… Too much investment in that riverwalk district just so we can host… What? Theater ponies from Rolling Oats? ...try and convince me that my biggest problems come from outside Ponyville!” And, indeed, the remainder of those in the Sunrise Suite—especially the two actresses who had starred in the nefarious play—could hardly abjure from conspiratorial thoughts of their own as the debate raged between the three implacable chieftains. “Sweetie Belle… What the hell is going on?” Rarity shouted in the din, unsure of how privy her sister was to the causes of the chaos that played out before them. “Hey… What the…!” Sweetie Belle clutched her from the front and swiveled herself so that she formed a shield between her sister and Twilight. “Don’t do anything sudden,” she whispered, as low as she was able. “Please. Stay with me,” she said as Rarity struggled with her. “What’s the meaning of this… Stop, will you! You’re scaring me!” She pushed her down but Sweetie Belle held on. Her head rested below Rarity’s chin and she pulled tighter, and Rarity could feel her trembling in her arms. She seemed to have shrunk; her haughty retorts had left her, and she pulled and pulled. Tuesday Hills was gone. For a flickering moment it even seemed as though time were moving backwards. Finally, Rarity freed a hoof and dealt her a blow across the face. It was a hard slap that sent Sweetie Belle tilting backwards; she looked up with eyes that seemed submerged in a dream. “Fuck off!” cried Rarity. The room was shaded in amethyst from Twilight’s magic and covered Rarity and Sweetie Belle like poisoned air. “You can’t help yourself,” said Rarity. “Why won’t you let me be here for you?” “I just wanted you to see the show.” The three embattled mares persisted arguing in the middle of the room. Rarity helped Sweetie Belle up. “Let me handle this,” she said. “That hurt.” “What did?” Sweetie Belle didn’t answer. Rarity brought her close and pressed a long kiss beneath her eye. “I need you to trust me,” she said, trailing away. She left Sweetie Belle and determined herself to end the dispute which had caused so much havoc. As she stepped into the circle, little gales from Twilight’s horn blew her hair back, tossing it into wild disarray. Her jacket became disheveled on her. But she waited, until the others were impelled to restrain themselves, or make a decision what to do with her. To her amazement, the magic died down, and silence washed in. She sensed the hard gazes of Roseluck and Princess Twilight. “Ladies… please,” she said, with as much confidence as she could muster in her ruined and frightened condition. “Plainly, I am the subject of an indictment. This has not been made clear to me. I’m sure you have your reasons. However, in the interest of transparency I would be very pleased to be informed of them before any action is taken against me. Thank you.” “TWILIGHT THINKS YOU’RE A CLONE FROM THE MIRROR POOL AND SHE WANTS TO Z-Z-ZAP YOU TO ANOTHER DIMENSION!” Pinkie cried out in a single breath. Rarity gulped her saliva. “I see… Twilight, dear… I am who I purport to be.” “Um… Not that I’m taking sides on this or anything,” Fluttershy said, teasing a paper clip out of her hair, “but, well… that is something a clone would say.” Rarity groaned at her. “Thank you for your opinion, Fluttershy.” “The Plumerium was invaded a few hours ago by a bandit hairstylist who is very close to your description,” Twilight said. “And an illegal trip was made to the Mirror Pool, for which I’ve been given conflicting accounts by you and Sweetie Belle.” “So you sent her into that room to spy on her,” said Mrs. Gables. “Oh, Princess…” “It was a test,” Twilight corrected her, “to be absolutely sure that we know what we are dealing with. One that she failed, by the way, for not recognizing her own sister.” “Ah! Well, in that case…” Mrs. Gables glanced over at Sweetie Belle. “What’s gotten into you, Sweetie? Say something on your sister’s behalf!” “This is between Twilight and myself,” Rarity interrupted, her conscience still smarting with the red mark on Sweetie Belle’s face. “Leave her out of it. The whole thing was a play. But if you want to interrogate me, I am ready for you.” “Very well,” said Twilight. She took in the scattered room like a military general pondering the receipts of a fateful campaign, looking out over the smoke of a battlefield between deadly eruptions. If she could not succeed in her mission by diplomacy or by force, she believed there were other means available; and as a commander in war is in their darkest hour faced with the prime riddle of nature, so she was inclined to contest her foe on philosophic grounds, so as to try the value of her ideals in the face of harsh truths, and thus expose her to the judication of the trenches. With so much formality as was possible under those circumstances, she cleared a spot in the room and set herself up between the curtain posts of the large bed like a sphinx. “Let’s find out who you are. Join me, please.” The others stood back as Rarity assumed her place in front of the bed with delicate composure. “That’s right,” she said, repeating herself, “I am me. And I should be pleased to convince you and everyone here. Do what you will.” Twilight replied, “The world is deceptive. Is it not?” “It certainly is.” “Here’s a question. Are you part of the world, or no?” Rarity considered the question. “I want to say, ‘inextricably so’, because that’s what I feel. But I can’t.” “I see. And why can’t you?” “Because a thing cannot be both absolute and deceptive. There’s nothing ‘inextricable’ about it. There is always something behind deception.” “If you are a part of that world,” Twilight said, “then you find yourself in a contradiction. If you are not a part of the world—as we have decided you musn’t be—then who are you, and how do you know?” “Perhaps I am nothing,” Rarity said after a shrug. “If the world is deceptive, it could mean that we are all nothing, you and I, and everyone in this room. Even the room. The point would be moot.” “You would have no way of knowing, if you are separate from the Known. There would be no ground beneath you.” “Exactly right.” “So… you are as blind to the nature of yourself as any duplicate. By your admission, your testimony is as good, as sure-hoofed, as that of a copy, since you have no baseline in yourself.” Rarity could hear the creaking of the old floorboards of the lake house distantly—bowed wood from age and humidity and river breezes, flap siding faded blue under moss and sun, the unused dinghy that belonged to the family before hers had been there. All boats lead to Manehattan—or to Rolling Oats—but they don’t lead back. Dusty, confused kitchens, numberless coffees, smiles, and short-tossed tales to be forgotten like time’s lighted stage passing through town, forever. “You’re wrong that a duplicate would be blind to its own nature,” Rarity replied. “That is, in fact, all that it sees—every glance into still water, every stop before a mirror, every pass by a polished window, repeats to it its own face with less normality than the copy on which that existence is predicated. I have seen Rarity looking back at me in the reflection. But I am not certain of her originality. I cannot express my own. Every attempt at a dress is a failure. It would be much easier, perhaps, if I were a duplicate. But I have this terrible blindness.” “And that is your proof of your selfhood?” asked Twilight. “That you are, essentially, lost in the world?” “Twilight, remember the day when Pinkie Pie came home with one hundred replicas... How differently they would have integrated themselves into Equestria if they were born of doubt and crisis! They would have founded their own cities, perhaps, or looked for religion or satisfaction in apprenticeship to an art. They would have looked for new cutie marks. Some might have become murderers, or married into a lineage, or gone into the mountains so that they would never see anyone again. But you see how things went. Now, you and I have doubt in us. So to ask me if I ‘know myself’ is unfair, since all I have, as the basis of everything, is a question—” Once, the only time in her life, she had been in a cathedral in Canterlot. There was a wedding. Above the bride and groom were enormous glass windows filled with bright patterns. The blues were Heaven’s blues. The light looked far away behind them. The light in the chapel was of a different sort. The reds were like blood, hidden in all of us. Heaven’s blood. Green and purple: nature and the void. You can’t see yourself in them. Disappear. She meant to watch the ceremony. But she couldn’t take her eyes off the figures of ponies in the colors… Time for flowers. Now the groom sees his bride. She walks down the blood-red carpet to him. …She sits in front of the void, speaking… How high those windows were. Vertigo looking up, my wafting red flower petals here on Earth, to say what we see in that distance. Bounce, bounce… “Aha!” cried Pinkie Pie, satisfied at her mention, and frolicking over the carpet to join the talk. In the gravity of the dialogue between Twilight and Rarity she had somehow managed to get the charcuterie away from Roseluck, and stuffed herself with cheese as she opined on the proceedings. “She’s the real Rarity, just like I said! And, it’s hard for you to admit when you are wrong, Twily… just like I said! No biggie. But now—I think you’ll agree—we can see just why it’s so important to have a scientific explanation of the little disturbances which go on in Ponyville. Oh! I was thinking, by the way—maybe we can rename the apparatus the Pinkie-ferometer, just to be clear about the progress of our understanding of the physical universe—where it comes from, and all. I mean, I deserve at least some credit for my discovery, right?” Before Twilight could answer, there was not a knock, but a crash! at the door; and, lo! Ms. Winsome had returned, cantering in after a party of three ponies which had given itself entrance to the somber interrogation room. She begged Twilight’s forgiveness for the present infraction of her royal edict, which she insisted she had tried earnestly to prevent from transpiring once more, ‘while you stay with us’. The leader of the invaders, Applejack, marched up to the bed, as immune to the prevailing mood of bureaucratic decorum as her hooves were to the dried mud that trailed behind her on the chamber floor. With her was a cohort consisting of Rainbow Dash and, of all ponies, Mr. Pennywise, who carried with him a large birdcage encasing the very creature that only hours before had ravaged the Plumerium. Roseluck jumped at the sight of it, nearly toppling poor Mrs. Gables over; and the maids outside, some of whom had been erstwhile eavesdropping (it might be assumed that Ms. Winsome counted amongst their number), now had a clear view of the Sunrise Suite, and an excuse to be witness to the spectacle within. “Howdy, ya’ll!” boomed Applejack with proud rustic courtesy. “I hear ya’ll are havin’ a private talk. Thought I’d let myself in… Figured you might be interested in this.” Rarity stood at a loss for words for the first time since her departure from the Indigo Suite; she couldn’t believe the simulacrum of her which sat on the perch, so unflattering, patting its big, round belly—full of who-knows-what—and grinning smugly into a tiny tin mirror. Sweetie Belle’s spirits began to lift again at sight of the obese and insipid version of her older sister, and the look of shock which it gave to the same, as more staff began to gather round and stare. That damned coconut, Rarity thought. “By all means, come in,” Twilight said to Applejack while she shooed onlookers back from the exhibit she had brought in. “It’s just… Well, I had no idea you had any stake in this.” “Me neither, Twilight,” Applejack replied. “Rainbow and I were about ready to turn in when Mr. Pennywise came knocking at the door.” The old stallion gave his serene look to the crowd standing around before continuing. “Can I get a cup of something, Princess? If you don’t mind.” “Certainly,” said Twilight. Having no more use for intrusions, she turned a condescending eye on the head maid. “Ms. Winsome? And why don’t you bring us a little more cheese, too. Pinkie Pie seems to have eaten everything.” “You must admit, Ma’am,” Ms. Winsome answered with barely concealed indignation, “that it’s not a fair thing to send me away, with all these ponies around who could help, besides me, and who have much less right to hear the story of this strange little creature than I do, who have been serving you all night.” “I’d be most grateful, Ma’am,” Pennywise said by way of thanks. A few of the serving ladies muttered objection to the claim of Ms. Winsome’s. Twilight, silencing them with a raised hoof, replied, “It’s only because you’ve served me so well that I continue to trust you, most of all, with my errands. I think the other girls have a lot to learn from you, Ms. Winsome. Besides, you’ll hear it all one way or another… I’m sure.” Ms. Winsome uttered a curse to herself and made a bow to Twilight. She pushed past a group of the maid staff, making her way downstairs with further and louder oaths, leaving a wake of calm for Pennywise to pick up his part of the story. “I’m sure that you heard about the hullabaloo that took place at Sugar Cube Corner this morning,” said Pennywise, addressing his royal, as well as his civilian, audience. “There was a real effort by the town police to track down the goblin which they thought was running around ruining marriages of long standing. And I suppose for that reason—and because rumors had circulated about someone coming and going through the Everfree Forest—they reached out to me to ask if I knew anything about it. Well, I hadn’t. I thanked ‘em and told ‘em that Astrid and I were fine. But then I remembered there was a very pretty young lady who had given us trouble out by the dome of the Mirror Pool—but what to do with that, well. Then I said, ‘Pennywise, you old fool, she told you her plans for the afternoon’. And I thought that if there were a duplicate of her she might try going to places which she had already been to.” “And that’s where we come in,” said Rainbow Dash. “We spent a solid half hour looking for Sweetie Belle around the orchard—in the treehouse, the cabinets where the kids used to play—whatever. Then AJ remembered the outhouse. I gotta tell you, given what transpired yesterday at lunch I didn’t want to know what some clone version of Sweetie Belle was doing in there.” “Rainbow’s a bit squeamish, truth be told,” said Applejack. “She likes a tight shift. It’s why she keeps me around.” “Definitely not for your knack for getting to the point—ponies are waiting, hun.” “All right, all right. Rainbow stayed back and Pennywise and I went in. And, to our surprise, we found this little one curled up next to the potty. And, I may be getting old, but that ain’t no Sweetie Belle. Now, doesn’t that just beat all?” The creature was still preening itself in the toy mirror, but stopped as it began to notice the attention it was receiving from all the ponies on the outside. It’s twinkling blue eyes lit up. “Fashion…” it said, tendering an unassuming smile. Slowly and in succession, each pair of eyes began to look up at Rarity, who pretended to ignore their cues. But before she was under too much pressure to comment, there was a commotion amongst the maid staff—Mrs. Winter Bottom had appeared in the doorway, wearing a night cap, having evidently been disturbed from early in her slumber. “Princess,” she said, observing the mess in the Sunrise Suite, “you know we are grateful that you have chosen the Palfrey Inn as your place of lodging during your time in Ponyville. But I’m afraid that rules are rules, and no one is allowed to bring wild things within the walls of this establishment. In this, I believe I would be corroborated by the several lines of nobility who have stayed here before you. Please forgive me.” “Forgive us, Mrs. Winter Bottom,” Twilight replied. “Believe me when I say that I am an admirer of those who uphold the work of policy makers. In this case, however, we have a legal interest in identifying the creature before you…” Her words hung in the air. For regardless of Twilight’s manner of prevarication, the identity of the creature was clear—the Council, the maids, Roseluck and Gray Gables, all could make out its resemblance to one mare in the room. Then at last, and with a contemptuous sigh, seeing that there was no way out of a public confession as her sister had wanted, Rarity undertook to close the matter for good. “So this is how it will be? Fine. It’s mine. I ate the key to Ponyville Gravitationist by accident, right before Sweetie Belle was supposed to perform there with her theater troupe. In the interest of courtesy I opted to handle the situation myself. But the toilet was out of order at Sweet Apple Acres at the worst possible time and I was forced to recourse to the woods, instead. The Mirror Pool has privacy.” “…That’s right!” said Pinkie Pie. “Spit Shine had been given the keys to Sugar Cube Corner by Mr. Cake, and Rose had her keys stolen, too… So it was a key-gobbling doppelganger, all along… Well, shucks. But then, why would that thing be sleeping in an outhouse?” The room descended into quiet deliberation; Rarity began to feel as though she were standing under the glare of a heat light. “Ugh…! What does it mean to be someone’s ‘friend’, anyway!?” she answered in frustration. “Is that really not enough for you all? Okay, very well. As you know, one of my first concerns in any predicament is sanitation, and I needed a little water to wash with for what I intended to do. So I cracked a coconut that was hanging from one of the vines in the dome for the purpose of transporting that liquid, but I must have gazed into it at some point as I reflected on my troubles in Manehattan. Nothing appeared to have happened before I left—and, mind you, I did have to take time, to, er… dig through my own tell, as it were.” The silence became louder. It was cracked by a snort which stretched into a long, pitched laugh, typical of Rainbow Dash savoring a joke at someone’s expense—her whole body convulsing like it was preparing for a sneeze, the sound carrying out the room and down the hall of the Palfrey, writing the history of the victor on walls already ancient. Rarity bristled at it, her face turning red like a clown’s makeup. “Oooh! As usual, Rainbow, you miss the point of everything—" She heard the sound of Twilight’s voice on top of the din and saw that the ponies in the room were forming a berth around Pennywise’s birdcage. This time, the Princess chose a divan to represent her throne and took a spot there, in a more aristocratic style before the assembly, whence she made an announcement to them. “For now, we will say that the invasions which took place at Sugar Cube Corner and at the Plumerium are solved. We have received hard evidence of the perpetrator, and a confession in corroboration of that fact, as well as a preponderance of accounts which seem to support Our conclusions. As to remuneration for damages, a financial assessment will be in order… Will the offending party be able to offer her labor for the appropriate amount of time, as per Ponyville legal code, to these businesses?” Rarity, who had already suffered humiliation, felt her chest tighten under the stone of public ignominy. “Oh, gosh…” she said, losing her breath. “Community service? I suppose I have no choice. I can find someone to replace me in Manehattan… Maybe it will be a positive change, anyway. Always about positivity, right?” “I’ll do it,” said Sweetie Belle. “…Yes, I’m sure. I have the time. I can work something out with the Cakes. And, I guess, if Ms. Roseluck would be willing to have me, I could work off the damages at the Plumerium.” “I think it would be a wonderful arrangement,” added Mrs. Gables. “I’d love to come visit to see the both of you.” Rose folded her arms, and quietly considered the proposal. “That sounds… nice. Yeah. It would be good for me. To have a little help around the store, that is. Can you do mornings…?” The crowd in the room began to chatter, and the negotiation lapsed into pantomime. Rarity blinked back tears. She had struck her sister, the strong, loving young mare that had just protected her from Twilight’s decree. She relived the moment again and again in her mind, but before long she was surprised to be slammed with a hug; it was Applejack who stopped her, taking her roughly by the shoulders and saying, “Rarity, I wanted to apologize to you and Sweetie Belle for not going to the show last night. See, I’ve been on a strawberry kick lately, and… Sometimes I just don’t know where my mind is. I know it’s hard sometimes, but I’m glad you told the truth. I hope I make you feel like you can be honest with me when you need to be—that’s what the Element of Honesty is for, by my reckoning, ‘cause we all fib, now and then.” Rarity exhaled and tried to cover up some of her redness. “Oh, Applejack. Yes. It’s such a relief to hear...” “How should I put it… All I care about is what comes out the horse’s mouth—not the horse’s ass.” Rarity frowned. “How touching.” Applejack smiled at her, then doffed her cap. “Aw… I just wish Sweetie Belle were here so I could apologize to her, too.” Sweetie Belle was there, in fact, listening off to the side, having completely forgotten that she was in costume. She waved a hoof and hopped up and down to give herself away. “Huh? Well, look at you, getting all dressed up!” said Applejack. “And here I thought you were one of the bar fillies. Good to see you, kiddo.” They hugged. “I guess you got to see a performance after all,” Sweetie Belle said over Applejack’s shoulder. “I call it, the saga of my sister’s butt monster!” Rarity smiled at the jab, but didn’t reply. “Hehe, well, call it what you like,” Applejack said. “I’m just glad we got to see each other again. And, I’m sorry for being such a grump. I just think sometimes… with all this ‘city’ stuff… maybe you’re a mite hard with Apple Bloom.” Sweetie Belle gasped at the indictment and made an ‘x’ over her heart. “Apple Bloom is my bestie! Seriously, Applejack, you have no idea what I’d do for that little redhead. I only tease her because she’s such a better pony than I am, in like… every way.” Applejack tsked her. “Now, now. There’s no need to talk like that. We love all ya’ll.” “We love you, too. Rarity and I. We would never want to give the impression that we look down on you. Just smack us around a little if we do, we’ll fall into line.” “See, I told you that you were overreacting,” Rainbow Dash called out, lighting from flight. “That’s how teenagers show love. I mean, I should know, I practically still am one, heh. Right, Rarity?” Rarity came back to herself out of a thought, but refused to answer. “Aw, come on. You know you’ve always got a place with us, no matter what kind of chaos you decide to unleash… Whether it’s a miscast stitching spell…” “Rainbow.” “Or, I don’t know, defecating in a forbidden magical area—” “Okay, do I make fun of your bodily functions, hmm? Do I say, ‘Oh, she must get very bad hemorrhoids when she pushes her speed to rainbow explosion levels…?’” “I do, actually. Or did, I guess.” “Oh, never mind.” She and Sweetie Belle caught eyes. Rarity turned away bashfully. She sensed Sweetie making glances at her. They stood a while longer, close enough next to each other to feel one another. Then Sweetie put a leg over Rarity’s shoulder. They didn’t speak, but Rarity leaned her head onto Sweetie Belle’s and let out a long breath. “Looks like I’m not going to be helping Dad with his windows for a while,” Sweetie Belle said. Rarity closed her eyes. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I hope he finishes them,” Sweetie Belle continued. Rarity was quiet again. “It seems important,” Sweetie Belle said. Twilight raised her voice once more. “Are there any other matters that need to be settled?” “Just one,” said Pennywise. He ambled across the room to where Rarity and Sweetie Belle were standing, surprising her out of her reflection. “Ms. Rarity, as an officer of the Royal Equestrian Administration for Parks and Recreation, I hereby take your admission of actions transpiring on those protected grounds as an admission of trespassing. I therefore take it as my solemn obligation to present you with this fine, which you may contest in court, for the sum total of two-hundred bits. You have been served, Ma’am.” Rarity took the slip and examined it. “Thank you, officer. I promise that I will never consider doing something like this ever again.” He nodded and thanked her for her cooperation. The room lit up with a pink sheen as Twilight’s horn became galvanized. The miniature Rarity seized the bars of its cage and began to coo and bat the lashes of its hollow, diamond-shaped eyes. Then, with a charge that flushed the air like a fired hearth, Twilight let forth a beam which ruptured the imposter from its imprisonment, hovering it in the air with a garbled cry, as magic energy distorted purple, white, and blue into shreds which flew back to the depths of the Mirror Pool, never to return to Ponyville.