Rarity stared in confused silence at the dragon waiting for her on the other side of the door. Slightly lumpy, and misshapen, with a major limp, the dragon had changed considerably after the Black Wedding. The full extent of his alterations wasn't obvious due to the heavy brown leather cloak that covered the majority of his form.
That still left his oddly proportioned hands, mismatched eyes, and lumpy back visible though Rarity didn't stare. She had seen the stitch marks, assisted in the grim sewing, and had even gathered up the meaty chunks of the dismembered dragon upon his death. The grim memories of having to knit bone, suture dead flesh, and piece one of her oldest friends back together may have bothered Rarity at one point. Now, however, she had gotten used to looking at the stitch-covered drake and felt no revulsion, fear, or guilt.
Though she wasn't sure if that was due to the fact that she had been dead for nearly a decade, or if she was genuinely used to seeing Spike in his current form. It wasn't that far-fetched, as she had seen him post-death via evisceration for longer than she had pre-murder. Though not in the least bit perturbed by the young drake’s appearance, Rarity still wondered if she could at least make him some better clothes.
“Hey Rarity, Rarity? Are you there?” Spike called.
Rarity’s flaming eyes winked out briefly before turning down to Spike.
“Yes, what is it darling?” Rarity asked.
“Oh uh, good,” Spike murmured, tapping his claws together. “You were staring off into um, space for ah uh…. While.”
“So I was,” Rarity muttered. “Did you need something?”
“Right, I uh…” Spike gulped and shifted from one foot to the other. “We um, need to talk.”
“And so we are,” Rarity declared.
“Y-yeah I guess but that's uh, not exactly what I meant,” Spike murmured. “I mean that T-twilight needs to t-talk to you.”
“Really now?” Rarity mused aloud. “Does this mean she has indeed made headway on the cloud, and the barrier?”
“It's um, confusing,” Spike admitted, the dragon scratching his head with a claw. “She t-told me to t-t-tell you that she is though.”
“Lovely. Just like last time I presume?” Rarity asked.
Spike shook his head vigorously. “N-no! Not like, l-last time.”
Rarity's eyes grew brighter. “Then it was real progress, not whatever nebulous mambo jumbo that she rambled about for nearly an hour.”
“H-hey!” Spike exclaimed. “That was imp-p-p.”
Spike clenched his jaw hard and breathed in and out several times.
“Important,” he spat.
Rarity sighed. “I’m sorry Spike. You know Twilight's technical explanations always go over my head.”
“Y-yeah but you…” Spike gulped. “You were barely even there for the last meeting.”
“I didn't move a muscle that entire time,” Rarity retorted. “Not as though I have any to begin with, mind you.”
“Rarity we were talking about you,” Spike whispered, the dragon clutching at his long leather coat tightly. “Like, a lot, and you d-d-didn't n-notice.”
Rarity shrugged. “I don't mind what is said about me. If you wish to talk about me, you may. It's still at least sort of a free country.”
Spike sighed. His arms fell, his shoulders relaxed, and the fight left him completely.
“J-just meet us at the c-c-cou-coun,” Spike clenched his jaw and scrunched up his features. “Council chambers.”
“When?” Rarity replied.
“Five, P.M.,” Spike answered.
“Ceremonial or not, I suppose I should attend this summons,” Rarity murmured absently, her gaze already drifting off, and becoming unfocused. “At least then I at least have the chance of getting a straight answer out of Twilight over this whole fog business.”
“I c-c-can't say anymore,” Spike muttered. “You’ll just have t-t-to uh… come to the meeting.”
“That was evasive darling. You wouldn't happen to be hiding something, like say how Twilight is going to make some big new announcement perhaps, would you?” Rarity asked.
Spike shook his head vigorously, causing his spines to flap left and right. “I c-c-can't s-s-s” Spike paused. “Say.”
“Hmm, that is an interesting way of putting it,” Rarity remarked.
“Please, just c-c-ome to the uh, the meeting,” Spike murmured.
Rarity nodded slowly. “If it is the mistresses’ will then I shall be there.”
“Th-thank you um, Rarity,” Spike stuttered.
The dragon then smiled faintly before ambling down the hallway, his lopsided frame making his steps longer than they needed to be. Rarity watched him go for a few seconds, though she was barely even paying attention to the dragon himself. Rather her mind was distant, flashes of the last few meetings popping into her head.
Her friends had been there, as they always had, alongside the rest of the rulers of Canterlot. They had talked about the goings on of the city for what had felt like ages but could have been mere minutes. Rarity struggled to pay them any attention and had increasingly stared off into space.
She hadn't even tried to do so, at least mostly, it simply wasn't that interesting, and she had no real responsibility or say in the matters. So she had spent the time mentally redecorating the council chambers for what felt like the millionth time. This time she concluded that deeper purples were definitely needed and that they should move to an overall heavier use of gold accents.
The sound of approaching hooves startled Rarity out of her haze, and she turned to find that she was no longer alone. One of the maids was pushing a cart piled high with cleaning supplies toward the revenant. Unlike Rarity, the maid was not a creature of magic and metal, but rather necromancy and flesh.
Her shambling gait didn't slow her down, and she soon passed Rarity by, nodding to the other undead as she did so. Rarity returned the gesture and was about to offer a polite greeting, only to find herself unable to muster the effort. So she left, the revenant attempting to return to her usual habit of greeting guards, and speaking to her favorite castle staff.
Only to find that yet again, she couldn't bring herself to bother, and simply nodded, or offered a polite wave whenever she met someone. Eventually, she reached the kitchens, a seldom used but still buzzing source of interest and gossip. Though the number of ponies who ate was remarkably low, that hadn't changed the fact that everyone looking to spill some tea gathered there.
Usually, Rarity would ask around, trying to find something new and chatting about any of the castle's happenings. As before, she didn't have the effort, and decided to keep walking, extending her wander from the castle to the grounds beyond. Only to pass through the always open gates out into the city proper, her wandering mind guiding her metal hooves into Canterlot itself.
She wasn't sure why, but she felt possessed to see the city that had become her home for the last decade with her own fiery orbs. The view from the castle was a good one and allowed one to gaze down upon almost the complete totality of the sprawling settlement. However, when one did so, they couldn't see all the smaller details visible only when one left the grounds of that ancient fort.
Passing by stoney-eyed guards, and the small line of ponies waiting to speak to the day council, Rarity ignored everyone. Familiar creatures attempted to get her attention, to engage her in small talk but Rarity brushed them aside. Her gaze had become distant but focused, her hooves picking up speed as a destination began to solidify in her mind.
Within a few minutes, she reached it, or at least the entrance to it. There, just before her was a large iron gate with a sign above it that welcomed them to the ‘Ever Free Cemetary’. Near the edge of the city, built on the grounds of what had once been a sprawling mansion, the resting place jutted out from the side of the mountain.
The red-eyed revenant standing at the gate lit their horn, and the iron bars parted, allowing Rarity entrance. Rarity herself merely nodded to the other undead before stepping through, her attention focused on what lay ahead. The red-eyed revenant merely nodded back, and after Rarity had passed them by, shut the gate behind the fashionista.
Walking down the long, winding path, Rarity was barely even aware of her surroundings. She passed by statues, graves, and even the marker that indicated where the mansion had once stood. The charming epitaph for the site once called Cliff Point Manor usually garnered at least a glance though not this time.
She just kept walking until she nearly reached the edge of the property and Canterlot itself. Here a tall iron fence kept everyone who didn't have wings in while a magical barrier ensured those with wings were unable to leave. If it wasn't there, there wouldn't be far to go, however, as it was only thirty or so metres from the larger bubble that kept Canterlot and the deathfog filling its streets, cordoned off from the rest of Equestria.
Here the graves were few, and the gardens many, the grim flowers within extending their dark pedals to the mostly sunless sky. Though beautiful, Rarity only had eyes for a single spot, one that was marked with a familiar name. Stopping a few feet away from the small, plain white tombstone, Rarity looked down at the spot marked as her final resting place.
Her full name was emblazoned atop the stone, along with three different dates. One marked her birth, the other, her death, and finally the last was for her sudden return to life only a day after she had died. It was a grim spot, but for some reason looking down on it brought Rarity a strange feeling of calm.
Here she could think, here she could ruminate on why exactly she felt so strange and directionless lately. Or at least, she hoped as much, for the odd melancholy, and increasingly distracted gaze was beginning to bother the undead mare. She knew the chill of death and the confusion and anxiety of returning from one’s end, and that would have been a relief from what she now felt.
She stared down at the grave, noting idly that by now her corpse was likely worm food. There might be bones left, but that would be about it at this point in her body’s decomposition. The thought was a grim one, but didn't bother Rarity at all, as it wasn't the first time she had considered it.
Realizing that she was trying to distract herself as a form of self-sabotage aimed at keeping her from actually getting to the bottom of her issue, Rarity shook her head. With her thoughts now loose and rolling about the inside of her skull, Rarity examined them in a bit more of a focused manner.
She felt like moving, the anxious thoughts giving her a twitchy energy that kept her firmly locked away. She also had a desire to return to her room, draw the blinds, and lay on her meditating rug for the next week. Furthermore, she also felt an urge to simply let her mind go, to no longer resist the siren song of the void, and just stare off into space until there was nothing left.
This last feeling was not one she was born with, at least not the first time anyway. Once she had been brought back to life, Rarity became intimately familiar with the sensation. All revenants felt it, the comfort that came with just standing there, staring off into space. Some felt an urge to guard something of importance, others just wanted to watch until they had let go of themselves. As the malaise of existence settled over Rarity she felt that urge more keenly, though she also felt it when she was apprehensive.
Rarity glanced up at the thinning wall of death fog, and the barrier beyond, her mind churning.
“I’m anxious,” she muttered aloud. “For the first time in a decade, something is changing.”
It was a simple answer, but it had also been a simple question.
With those final gears clicking into place, Rarity felt the haze begin to lift and she summoned her own mental fortitude to banish more of it. The fog that had hung heavy over her mind was brushed mostly aside, with only the barest traces of its existence remaining. She felt better, good even as if she had awoken from a long dream that she had struggled to fully leave.
She was about to turn around and leave when she noticed that a small self-propelled aircraft had come into view. It resembled one of the contraptions Pinkie Pie had made, only far more well-refined, with a space large enough for four ponies to stand. These four individuals were all unicorns, and they seemed to be inspecting the barrier if the glow of their horns was anything to go by.
Another shake of her head, and Rarity trotted back the way she had come, stopping at the exit. After waiting for the gate to open, Rarity had been about to continue on her way back to the castle when she stopped herself.
“Say, soldier,” Rarity began, turning fully to the revenant at the entrance. “Do you have a moment?”
“Of course,” they replied. “You may call me Sure Shod, or just Shod for short if you’d like.”
“And I am Rarity, as you may have already guessed,” Rarity replied.
They nodded. “We had, and what do you need ma’am?”
“I was just wondering if you had family or friends out there,” Rarity exclaimed, gesturing toward the barrier that kept them inside.
“I was lucky in a way,” Sure Shod began. “My family was all here, and after the return, I had found that my mother had come back.”
“That's… good,” Rarity muttered.
“I mean don't get me wrong, its still a tragedy and I did have a few friends who I haven't seen since then but it could have been worse,” Sure Shod exclaimed.
“I’m sure they are still alive out there, somewhere,” Rarity encouraged.
“I hope so, though I’m more hopeful that my mother is able to recover and finally leave the home,” Sure Shod remarked, their voice falling somewhat. “Dad was thrilled she had returned, but she had been gone too long. Couldn't handle suddenly returning to life ya know?”
Rarity would have winced had she the muscles to do so. “I’m sure she’ll get better eventually.”
“That's the hope. Honestly though so long as I’ve got my dad, my sisters, and my aunts I’ll be fine. A shame the family line won't continue, but we’ve got forever to wait for this deathfog to depart, and we can adopt,” Sure Shod declared.
“It's nice to hear someone who isn't taking our current predicament too harshly,” Rarity offered.
Sure Shod nodded. “Ain't much point to being dour, says Da. Either pick yourself up or just lay there till the earth is ready to take ya.”
“All good advice,” Rarity added.
“Ya, that old stallion still has some wisdom left in him,” Sure Shod remarked. “But I shouldn't keep you any longer.”
“I probably should be going,” Rarity admitted.
“Just a word of advice. Hold onto that feeling of hope. It keeps those grey thoughts away but only if you keep it fed and bright,” Sure Shod offered.
“I’ll take that to heart, Sir Shod,” Rarity exclaimed.
“Ha, now wouldn't that be nice? Sir Shod, it has a nice ring to it,” murmured the revenant to himself.
Rarity gave the other undead a nod before trotting away, Sure Shod’s words rolling around in Rarity’s mind. A pleasant warmth bloomed in her midsection as she ruminated on what he had said. A warmth that would have made her smile, had she the muscles necessary to do so.\