Love and Unicorns
Rarity stood on the doorstep of the Ponyville Library, her face transfixed with an expression of pure determination. Twilight Sparkle had put this matter off long enough, and Rarity meant to put an end to her seemingly endless capacity for procrastination. She raised a hoof, and knocked three times, firmly.
A few seconds later, the door opened. It was Spike.
“Oh, hi!” Spike's voice cracked in his excitement, and he cleared his throat before continuing his greeting in his sexiest tone. “How are you doing?” He leaned against the door frame in what Rarity had often heard Twilight call his “I-am-the-shit” pose.
“I'm fine, Spike. Where is Twilight?” Rarity gave Spike's thinly-veiled advance no acknowledgment, as usual. The little dragon was less than half her age, and he would one day be a hundred times the unicorn's size. Of course, she still found his efforts towards her affections endearing, but in a completely different way than Spike would have liked.
“Twilight's upstairs, but she banned me from the bedroom. She's reading.”
“Surprise, surprise,” said Rarity.
“I know, right?” said Spike. “You can go knock on the door, but I'm headed out for awhile. It's my day off, anyway.”
“Thank you, Spike. This should only take a minute of her time.” A lie. “She won't mind.” Another lie.
Rarity ascended the stairs, and knocked on the door.
“What is it, Spike?” came Twilight's muffled voice.
“It's Rarity~,” replied the white unicorn, trilling the last syllable slightly.
“Oh,” she heard Twilight say, and though her voice was muffled by the door, it bore an obvious note of surprise. There was a flurry of hoofbeats from beyond the oaken door, and it opened, releasing a thin cloud of bluish smoke. There stood Twilight, a smoldering Lucky Strike clenched in her teeth.
“Good heavens, girl,” said Rarity. “At least open a window.” She coughed once.
Twilight levitated the cigarette out of her mouth, and spoke. “The windows are open.”
“You know you're going to give yourself cancer with those things.”
“When I give myself cancer, Rarity, I will find a cure for it, and I will do so while smoking. Besides, you're not one to talk, little miss Pills'n'Swill.” Twilight smiled playfully at her own quip.
“Fair enough,” said Rarity, as Twilight inhaled.
“What did you want?” asked Twilight, through half-clenched teeth.
At this Rarity let herself into the bedroom, squeezing past Twilight, who shut the door behind the two of them. Thin, wispy smoke hung heavy in the room, and there was little light except that which filtered in through the open windows.
“Well,” said Rarity, ascending the stairs towards where Twilight's bed was situated, elevated over the rest of the room, “it's just that you've m... My goodness.” She had been taken off guard by the scene at the top of the staircase. There was a pile of books on the bed bigger than her own body, and on the nightstand, there was a half-drained bottle of cheap Merlot and two empty coffee cups. Next to them, there sat an ashtray crowned with a tiny mountain of cigarette butts. “How long have you been at this?”
“Since about six pm,” said Twilight.
“It's two-thirty in the afternoon,” said Rarity.
“Your point?” asked Twilight.
Rarity turned and saw Twilight, who, having finished her cigarette, was now pouring herself a cup of coffee from the burnished steel percolator on her desk.
“My point, darling, is that most ponies... well... sleep.”
“I'll sleep when I'm dead,” said Twilight.
“Look, that's a matter for another time.” Rarity pushed the stack of books to one side of the bed, and lay across the mattress as Twilight added creamer and sugar to her coffee.
“What I'm here about is the Ponyville Autumn Social.” Rarity scanned the covers of the pile of books, several of which lay open, face down. What bizarre sort of information Twilight was attempting to synthesize through the simultaneous study of Griffon Anatomy, Equestrian History, Quantum Physics, Plethysmography, and Folk Music, she couldn't begin to guess.
“Autumn Social?” said Twilight. “Oh, yeah. I think we had one of those in Canterlot.” She removed a book from a nearby shelf and lay it open on the desk in front of her, searching for some random bit of information.
“They have an Autumn Social everywhere, Twilight, the night before the Running of the Leaves. You haven't come to either one since you moved to Ponyville, and it's less than a week away.”
Twilight took a sip of her coffee. “Well, it's just a party, like the Grand Gallop...”
“No, not like that at all,” said Rarity. “Pinkie Pie organizes the one here in town. It's a lot of fun. Everypony does dress up, of course, and there is a big dance. But it's not stuffy or high-brow like the Gala. I think you would like it, if you actually showed up, for once.”
“Fine, I'll go,” said Twilight. “At least for a little while.” She continued scanning the book.
“Darling, you don't just 'go' to the Autumn Social,” said Rarity. “It's a very special social event. You'll need a date. That's the crux of the matter, really. If you keep yourself locked up in this library studying all the time, it's going to be a bit difficult for anypony to ask you to the dance.”
“In that case,” said Twilight, “you can count me out. I'm not going to parade around town batting my eyes at stallions I barely know so that I can have the same awkward, abortive conversations over and over and over again.”
“Oh, you make it sound like such a bother,” said Rarity. “It's not that hard to get a date; just look out the window there.” She nodded towards the window nearest the desk.
Twilight stepped over and looked out of it. There was a motley group of stallions -- mostly unicorns, but a few pegasi and earth ponies -- loitering across the street. A blue unicorn waved at her, and a white pegasus slapped him across the back of the head with a hoof.
“Whoa,” said Twilight, genuinely surprised, “how'd I miss them?” She shut the window, and closed the curtains.
“They were there last year, too,” said Rarity. “Just pick one; some of them aren't half-bad looking, if you ask me.”
“Well, I didn't ask you, did I?” Twilight took another sip of coffee.
“No,” said Rarity flatly. “You also didn't ask me if any of them were well-off financially. The answer to that question is 'yes, two or three of them.' Would you like for me to point them out?”
“I'll go to the Social alone, Rarity.”
Rarity sighed, exasperated. “You can't go to the Social alone, dear. It would be a disastrous faux pas. I'm not even sure they would let you in. It's tradition that no mare come unaccompanied. Why, even Applejack brings some stallion or other every year. She always drinks him under the table, then throws him in a dumpster, but she does bring somepony. For that matter, Rainbow Dash always finds herself an escort, too, and the jury's still out on whether she's even straight.”
“Still out on you, too,” mumbled Twilight, returning her eyes to the book on her desk.
“For the last time, that's only when I'm drunk!” Rarity poked her lips out and scowled.
Twilight giggled at Rarity's outburst. “I know. That's what makes it funny.”
“Duly noted,” said Rarity, flatly, “but that has nothing to do with why you won't at least talk to a stallion or two. Why, you could even ask somepony, yourself. It's not a real date; it's just a social gathering. He won't think anything of it. It's not as if you have to sleep with...
Twilight winced visibly before Rarity could even enunciate the word "him," and the white unicorn stopped herself cold.
"Wait a moment," she said. "Is that what the problem is?”
Twilight took a sip of coffee, and kept reading.
“What if it was?” she asked.
“Well it's not really any of my business, darling, but you can get a date and go to the Social without it even having to come up. Though if it did, I would like to reiterate that there are several stallions out there, right now, who I wouldn't -- just me, myself, and Rarity, you know...”
“Sex,” interrupted Twilight, slamming shut her book, “is boring, ugly, hippie shit.” The unicorn telekinetically lifted a brass lighter and a pack of Lucky Strikes from the top of the desk. She lit a cigarette, and took a long, deep drag.
Rarity's left eye and the corner of her mouth twitched.
“Twilight, dear, I am... a little confused,” she said.
“What's to be confused about?” asked Twilight. “You just illustrated the problem, yourself. Even though it's supposed to be a 'friendly social gathering,' every single one of those stallions out there is hoping, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he'll get to walk me home like a gentlecolt, and then one thing will lead to another.'
“I mean, I don't think they've all got purely bad intentions,” Twilight continued, stopping to take a short drag. “Some of them are probably even nice guys. Maybe even the rich, good-looking ones, for all I know, but that doesn't change the fact that every one of them wants to get some. Nor does it change the fact, even if I really liked one of them, that he could never possibly enrich my life more than he would complicate it.'
“I just don't go there, Rarity. Ever. It's kind of a personal rule, and I'm not going to violate it just to go to a dance.”
“So, you've never...?”
“What's it to you?” Twilight shot Rarity an irritable look.
“Well, I don't know,” said Rarity. “It's just that... Well, it's a little extreme...”
“Rarity,” Twilight cut her off. “Everypony everywhere is caught up in this trivial, selfish quest to pass on their genes. We call it 'dating' or 'romance' or 'love' to clean it up in our own minds, but it's really all just part of an animal urge to continue our own lineage. That's what this Social is to me; it's just a highly organized mating ritual.”
“Well, do you ever at least... you know...”
“Yeah, the same way I eat a sandwich when I'm hungry.” Twilight levitated her cigarette to an ashtray on her desk, and placed it there, still burning. “I do it so I'm not 'hungry' anymore, then I get back to something important.”
“Don't you want a family, one day?” asked Rarity.
“In case you haven't noticed,” said Twilight, “I've got a lovely little collection of freaks started, what with the dragon and the owl; another year or two, and who knows? Might have a Phoenix, if Peewee decides to come back." She shook her head. "My family's big enough."
“Well, what about foals?” Rarity's voice held a note of pleading. “Don't you want children?”
“Rarity, having a foal is the dumbest idea I can possibly imagine. Why would anypony ever willingly bring into this world an individual who is totally incompetent at literally everything – excluding, of course, shitting, pissing, and screaming -- and then voluntarily assume complete and total responsibility for them?”
“But Twilight, don't you want to fall in love, some day? Find the stallion of your dreams?”
“That's your dream, Rarity; not mine.” Rarity's head recoiled slightly at the word “your.”
“Twilight, I think that's every mare's dream, at least a little bit.”
“Yes,” said Twilight, “Because every mare is told from the time she can walk that it's supposed to be her dream. That's all that love is, Rarity. It's so many electrochemical reactions in your brain and a few strategically placed social constructs.'
“Look at them,” Twilight said, telekinetically opening the curtains of the window she had earlier shut. She glanced outside. A few of the stallions had dispersed, but enough remained to make an adequate demonstration.
“They're just trying to get where you are, right now.” Rarity realized she was still on Twilight's bed.
As the purple unicorn continued her rant, her voice grew louder and angrier, all the time. “The sad thing about it, though, is that they don't even know why! If you asked them – at least the ones who are self-aware enough to know what they really want -- they'd say it was for the fun or for the challenge or some horseshit like that, but the real reason is that society has told them that if they don't show up at this petty little Social with a mare, they're not real stallions. But that's not enough, either. They have to take her home and have their way with her, too, or they're still not real stallions. What the hell does that even mean, real stallion?”
Twilight flung open the window, and stuck her head out of it.
“GO HOME, AND CLOP ONE OUT!” Twilight yelled. “THEN GO DO SOMETHING PRODUCTIVE, FOR A CHANGE!”
She pulled the window and curtains shut, then turned to face Rarity, who stared at her wordlessly, her mouth hanging slightly open.
“Sorry if you had any of those marked,” said Twilight, flatly.
“Twilight, what is wrong with you?” asked Rarity, her words thick with concern and incredulity.
“Nothing is wrong with me, Rarity. It's everypony else that's messed up. I am just fine,” said Twilight, seething.
“Oh yes, obviously,” said Rarity. “Totally fine.” Twilight did not respond, but lit another cigarette, unconscious of the fact that most of her previous one still lay burning in the ashtray.
Something in the back of Rarity's mind had been bending slightly for Twilight's entire speech. Now, she realized that Twilight expected her opinion to go totally uncontested, and whatever it was that had been bending finally snapped. It might have been having her own perceptions challenged, and it might have been concern for her friend's emotional well-being. In either case, whatever it was spurred Rarity to go right for the throat.
“What about Shining Armor and Cadance?” she asked, accusingly. “Do you think their love is just a bunch of chemicals and society? A love that could save Equestria? Is that all it is?”
A shudder ran through Twilight's body, and she sat silent for some time, neither drawing from her cigarette, nor sipping from her coffee. Rarity saw Twilight's face contort with contained rage, saw her jaw clench and unclench, saw tears well at the corners of her eyes, saw rage morph into despair, and saw her drop her face towards the weathered oak of the floor.
“I don't know, and I don't care,” she finally said, but her words were hollow and devoid of conviction. She stared down at the floor, and attempted to disguise the wiping of a tear from her eye as a flick of her cigarette, meant to knock away the ash. Rarity was not fooled.
The white unicorn watched her friend in silence. There was a question she knew she needed to ask, but she couldn't find the courage to ask it. She just watched Twilight Sparkle sipping coffee and adding smoke into the cloud that slowly swirled above her head. Finally, Twilight sat down her empty coffee cup, and Rarity realized that the moment was passing. This was not the sort of thing she could be certain of ever being able to bring up, again.
“Twilight, what did this to you?” Rarity's words were quiet, gentle, and razor sharp.
Tears welled again in Twilight Sparkle's eyes, but she fastened her gaze to the floor so that Rarity did not see them, though she still knew they were there. After over a minute of silence, Twilight spoke one word.
“Leave.”
“Twilight, it's...”
“Rarity!” Twilight half shouted the other unicorn's name, her voice cracking slightly. “Just go,” she said quietly. “Please.”
Rarity hesitated for a moment. Then, she shuffled to the edge of Twilight's bed, and slowly stood. She walked down the stairs as quietly as possible, noticing the slow, rhythmic tremors that moved through her friend's body. She moved towards the door, then stopped. She stepped over to Twilight, and gave her a gentle neck hug from the side. She felt Twilight's body tense at her touch, and though the purple pony would not look Rarity in the eyes, she did not pull away from her. After a few moments, Rarity let go and walked towards the door.
Twilight Sparkle heard the door open, and saw light wash across the floor. Then, she watched it fade away just before the sound of the door being gently shut echoed quietly through her bedroom. She sat there for some time, unmoving, drawing from her cigarette without even bothering to ash it. Finally, she levitated it to the ashtray to extinguish it, which brought to her attention the half cigarette that still burned there.
She stared at it for a moment, watching the thin, undulating line of smoke that rose from its flame. She considered picking it up to finish it, and it glowed faintly purple for a moment. Before it began to move, Twilight shook her head slightly, and the glow faded from around it.
She looked down at the bottom right drawer of her desk. It glimmered slightly, then slid open. Twilight dug through the mass of stationery, parchments, quills, inkwells, and pencils. At the very bottom of it, she found a small, purple journal, its cover emblazoned with a rough likeness of her cutie mark. It had been painted there years ago by the unsteady telekinesis of an adolescent mare who hadn't had much artistic talent.
She lay the book down on its spine, and it fell open to a page dated not three years previous. It always fell open to that page – the page with the photograph pasted to it. She stared at the old picture, swallowing a lump that had crept up her throat. After a few moments, she peeled the photograph away from the page, and dropped it onto the burning cigarette in the ashtray.
She lit another Lucky Strike, and kept staring at the photo until a ring of brown spread out from its center. Twilight inhaled deeply as the brown patch darkened to black. Then, as flames finally leapt up to wipe the image from existence forever, she joined the smoke from her lips into the gray, twisting plume that rose above the ashtray and the ruined photograph.
As the last of the embers died away, she extinguished her burning cigarette in their midst, then walked slowly up the stairs, her head hung low. Without looking at it, she closed the window and drew its curtains shut. Then, not even bothering to push the pile of books to the floor, she crawled into her bed.
She could not sleep.
finem