//------------------------------// // Chapter 2 // Story: No Recipe For Perfection // by Cloudy Skies //------------------------------// Rarity and Fluttershy both paused at the threshold to Carousel Boutique. Fluttershy’s eyes traced the road that led out of Ponyville and to her cottage, the demure pegasus nibbling her lower lip. “Are you sure you don’t want me to come in? It’s still early noon, and I don’t really have much to do. If you really need help, I mean,” she added. It was a white little lie Rarity recognized in an instant. Fluttershy always had a lot to do in the weekends between her dates to watch Rainbow Dash practice and attending her herb garden and her little animal friends both. “That’s quite alright,” Rarity replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ve imposed on you quite enough lately. I’m just sorry we had to postpone our spa date until today. You won’t believe how busy I’ve been with the shop.” “All because of Pinkie Pie’s dress?” Fluttershy asked. Rarity winced. She’d tried to steer their conversation away from that topic while they had their pedicures. She’d asked all about Fluttershy’s mother’s birthday while they had their hoof-baths and she’d inquired about the well-being of her animal patients while the mud masks were working. Still, Fluttershy had snuck in questions here and there. “Yes, yes, I suppose it was, at that,” Rarity sighed. “Now, I’m thrilled to hear that you had a great time in Cloudsdale, and I’ll pop by for our Saturday tea later of course, but right now, I have to go attend my latest creation.” “Oh. But—” Fluttershy tried to say, but Rarity crossed their necks in a brief hug and slipped inside the boutique, disappearing faster than a collage of dresses in a Manehatten summer sale. “Rarity, you’re being terribly rude,” she chastised herself, giving the big chandelier of the main room a magical nudge to rouse the fireflies. Puffing out her cheeks, she unwrapped her scarf and let it slip to the ground, making her way across the floor to the room where she’d spent every single afternoon this week. Her studio was as much of a mess as ever, perhaps more. If there was a scrap of fabric still actually in their proper drawers, she’d be surprised. The crumpled fudge wrappers were mercifully contained to the windowsill in the back, but what they lacked in territory conquered, they made up for in sheer volume. She habitually glanced over at her own flank, wondering if the excess indulgence was noticeable. It was almost disappointing to see that for all that she was failing, her appearance was untouched. Flawless as ever, but not a single one of the mannequins arrayed around the edges of her studio bore anything that could be called a dress. Not even a sock, a hat or a simple sweater. “Not that there is much of a point to it,” Rarity murmured, sidling up to where a bolt of garish green silk lay on the floor—when had she even bought this atrocious color? “It’s too early to start trying to predict winter fashions, too late to try to field something new,” she added, addressing the naked cloth ponies who surrounded her. She was trying to create something only to see if she could, and she found that she could not. Her chest tightened at the thought. She grasped at a discarded cut-out shape that could be anything from a headband to a scarf. “‘I do what makes me happy’, is it?” Rarity said, repeating out loud Pinkie’s words from earlier that week. With the words came Pinkie’s brightly smiling face. It threatened to make Rarity herself smile, but it was a short-lived impulse. She’d said it as if though it was a cure, a solution and a driving force all. Perhaps she’d been mistaken. She and Pinkie Pie were so very, very different. Whatever it was that had Rarity in an artistic rut had her pinned for weeks now. When was the last time she’d hummed to herself as she worked, much less broken into song? Her train of thought came to an abrupt end as a familiar pink pony bounced past her window. Rarity removed the working glasses she couldn’t even remember putting on, leaning closer. Sure enough, Pinkie Pie was hopping along outside with Twilight in tow, the two chatting amicably as they went. Rarity bit the inside of her cheek. It was absurd, but she almost felt slighted at the sight. There was no rational reason for it, and Pinkie Pie certainly didn’t owe her time to her, but there, right in front of her, the pony who proposed to have the solution to all her problems was pronking down the street. Rarity flung the window open before her two friends could make it much farther. “Hullo, girls!” she called. Twilight turned at the noise, and Pinkie Pie did the same, giving her an enthusiastic wave. “Hi Rarity!” Pinkie called. “Hello,” Twilight echoed. “What are you up to?” “Ah, not terribly much,” Rarity said, clearing her throat in the wake of what was all too true when she’d rather it was a lie. “Say, could I borrow you for a little while, Pinkie Pie?” It was probably as simple as that; she needed somepony to model. Perhaps she should’ve invited Fluttershy in after all? She glanced over her flank, back inside her studio where the dreary and dead mannequins regarded her with empty stares. She was only vaguely aware of Pinkie Pie’s reply, but when she once again stuck her head out the window, Pinkie Pie wore an apologetic smile. “Sorry?” Rarity said. “I said I’d love to, but it’s the ‘sorry’ kind of I can’t-but-I’d-love-to,” Pinkie repeated. “Twilight wanted my help with some experiment over by the pond, and I said I promised I would!” “Oh. Ah. Well,” Rarity managed. “Some other time, perhaps,” she said, offering a weak smile of her own. “Sorry Rarity!” Pinkie called. “Good luck with your designs! I hear you’ve been doing great lately,” Twilight added, waving. Rarity shut the window perhaps a little harder than she needed to. “Yes, yes I have,” she told nopony in particular, rubbing the spot between her eyes. She could of course tell Fluttershy that she’d changed her mind, but she already knew she wasn’t going to. On a whim, Rarity levitated over a quill and parchment, quickly writing Sweetie Belle a note about dinner in the fridge and such. She barely took the time to sign it with proper flourish before she made for her bedroom. Sleeping during the day, as it turned out, was a terrible idea. How Rainbow Dash managed, Rarity would never know. She awoke late in the afternoon, noting that she had the worst bed mane yet experienced, and she was feeling decidedly sluggish. The sun’s glow lit up her bedroom, highlighting the breach in schedule. All was quiet except for the rustle of her duvet as she slipped out from under the covers and into her bathrobe. After a moment’s hesitation she pulled open the bottom nightstand drawer, levitating out a slim crystal glass and a bottle with which to fill it. Some days called for a glass of finely aged fizzy pear cider. Rarity filled the glass to the brim and re-corked the bottle, making for the stairs. All around, the house part of Carousel Boutique was quiet. Passing by the kitchen, it became very evident that Sweetie Belle had come by, had her dinner, and left again; Rarity closed the fridge door properly with a sigh, resolving to clean the battlezone later. Once again she found herself drawn to the room that was so central to her life. Every moment she did not spend with her friends was a buildup to clearing her schedule so she could labor in the workshop that was her studio. Usually, this was time spent with a song on her lips. When had that all changed? She could remember vividly how much fun she had in the weeks leading up to royal wedding held not that long ago, late that very summer. Rarity sipped her cider and began the laborious process of making sense of her workroom. Unsightly fudge wrappers went in the bin, bolts of fabric were rolled up, and tools were deposited onto the benches where they belonged. Nothing. Nothing stood out since the wedding. It couldn’t be that, surely? She remembered vividly returning back home, putting Sweetie to bed, and having a glass, just like now. Another sip. It would be rude to say she wasn’t happy for Twilight’s brother and foalsitter both, and she was. Happy for them. That’s what she did; be happy for others. Rarity swallowed the suddenly bitter liquid as her mind went further back, just like it had the night after the wedding. To one ‘prince’ who turned out to be a walking disaster. She’d thought little of that ever since, but in the wake of two ponies happily joined, the memory resurfaced. She’d returned to her boutique intent on creating with a vengeance. If romance did not have a place in her life for the moment, then she would make the best dresses yet. And ever since, every dress had been a battle. A losing battle. At that thought, she hovered a bolt of flannel, then the silks, shortly followed by every other fabric imaginable. The strain on her magic was an afterthought as she danced every single scrap of cloth within her reach around her. Her eyes were wide open as she grasped for a truth that would serve. Maybe what she needed was a new dress made for the sake of making it? There was a purity to that thought. A knock on the front door scattered her concentration. The bolts and scraps all fell to the floor with a muted set of thumps. Rarity nearly dropped her glass in her haste to get to the front door. Relative haste, of course. Just because she was outside work hours and in a bit of a state did not mean she would do something so unseemly as galloping for the door. “Pinkie Pie,” Rarity said, relinquishing her grip on the door to let it open properly. She gave the mare a curious look. “I thought you were busy.” “Nuh-uh and nope! I said ‘later’! And if I didn’t say later, then I meant to say later, and now, it’s later! You wanna hang out?” Pinkie asked. “Hang out,” Rarity echoed, raising a brow to an enthusiastic set of nods from her friend, Pinkie’s mane bobbing every which way. After a moment’s contemplation, Rarity drained her glass and put it down, stepping aside to let Pinkie enter. “If you want to make dresses, that’s fine too. That’s almost like hanging out, only with more clothes!” Pinkie declared, trotting inside and nosing the door shut behind her. “Yes, that was what I had in mind, I must admit,” Rarity murmured, discreetly wiping her muzzle. “Actually, I think I am making some progress. Would you mind terribly much coming with me?” “If we’re going to your clothes-making-room, sure! If you’re heading up a mountain to wrestle a dragon? Well, I’m okay with that too!” Pinkie agreed, trotting after her. Rarity giggled and shook her head. “Not quite. I’m designing dresses again. Well, because that is what I do, I suppose,” Rarity hummed. “No it’s not,” Pinkie protested. Rarity stifled a groan as she felt that familiar bittersweet headache building again. As much as she loved her friend, it wasn’t quite the right moment for another debate in which neither of them would come out winners. “So, at any rate,” Rarity barrelled on once Pinkie was well inside the dimly lit studio. “I’m trying to make a dress for myself. At least, I think so. It’s madness to try to bring out something new right now, so I figured something more personalized is better. Now, you might be a little more, ah, luscious than I, but if you would just stand still...” Pinkie Pie shrugged, giggled and nodded, all in short order as Rarity thought. Rather than a dam bursting or a river flowing with ideas, it was more akin to a machine trying to shift its gears into action, and its every click and clack was loud and distracting. The unicorn paused when she had the unusually mellow pink pony draped in a set of light yellows that looked odd on her, but would match Rarity. At least, so she thought. Maybe. “What do you think?” Rarity asked, her tone light and airy. “Oh, it’s super neat!” Pinkie declared, wiggling a bit under the satin. “And so soft. Can you make pillows out of this? I bet they’d be really comfy!” “I’m sure,” Rarity agreed. “Now, I was just wondering if you had any, ah, daring suggestions.” “Oh!” Pinkie exclaimed. Rarity waited, running her tongue along her teeth and idly shifting the fabric a smidgen to the left. “Well?” Rarity asked. “Huh? Oh. Nope. Not a single idea. None whatsoever,” Pinkie said, grinning widely. “You’re the fashionista. Oh wow, that is such a silly word, you ever noticed? Tried saying it three times really quickly?” “Ah. Well. I was just hoping you could help me out a little,” Rarity said, her smile strained. “See, I was thinking about what you said. Or, well, some of what you said. I’m perhaps not feeling my best, and this is what I, ah. It sounds so trite, but this is what I need to be happy.” Pinkie arched a brow. “You need a dress? You have hundreds of dresses!” “No, I need to make something, to create, you understand that, don’t you?” Rarity groaned, rolling her eyes. “Never mind,” she added, whisking the dress-in-progress away. “This is pointless.” “I told you, I don’t make dresses, silly. I can’t make you a dress to make you happy, that’s what you do!” Pinkie claimed, pouting. “I can’t make you happy if I can’t do that by being your friend. Maybe I can throw you a party? Like, congratulations on—” “Yes, yes,” Rarity sighed, covering her face with a hoof. “Yes, and no. I am sorry. I don’t mean to be cross with you, Pinkie, but I simply have a lot on my plate right now. Thank you for helping, again.” “Aw, but—” Pinkie protested. “Please,” Rarity interrupted, glancing about for her glass. Where had she left it? “Ah, never mind that, I know where the bottle is,” she murmured. “Let me show you do the door.” “You are a very, very confusing pony,” Pinkie Pie whined, pausing by the door as Rarity held it open. Rarity winced. “I am sorry,” Rarity allowed. “Let me make this up to you later, okay? For now, I just need to think.” Pinkie Pie slumped and nodded, slinking out with her tail low. Rarity closed the door behind her, standing still for a full minute with her eyes flitting back and forth between the stairs up and the hatrack by the door. Taking a deep breath, quickly making sure Opal had enough food in her bowl, Rarity snatched a simple chapeau and headed out the door heading for somepony who could help her make sense of the mess. “Green or black?” Fluttershy asked, her voice floating out through the open window. “Green, please,” Rarity replied. “Two—no, three lumps of sugar, if you would.” She already felt more at ease. Despite all the creatures who crept, crawled, fluttered and hopped about, the tea table outside of Fluttershy’s cottage gave her peace where her own home did not. At least, more than her studio with Pinkie Pie in it. She’d never been one to mind Pinkie’s antics much, but now she reminded Rarity of her failure. At least, that was the only possible explanation Rarity could think of for why her mannequins had somehow acquired a light red tint in her mind’s eye when she futilely tried to come up with a new approach. “There you are,” Fluttershy announced, the pegasus mare expertly sliding the tea tray off her back, taking a seat opposite of Rarity. “If you get cold, I’m sure I can find a blanket,” she added with an apologetic little smile. As if on command, the wind picked up, a smattering of dry leaves rustling by. It would have been unwelcome were it not so picturesque. “I’ll be fine, but you are ever so kind. And thank you for the tea, too,” Rarity replied, dipping her head in thanks. “It smells divine, as always.” “I’m glad,” Fluttershy said, smiling. “And I’m terribly sorry for being so out of touch lately, too,” Rarity tacked on, levitating up her cup for a sip. “Oh that’s alright. Rainbow Dash told me you’ve been spending a lot of time with Pinkie Pie,”  Fluttershy replied, holding out a hoof for a bird to land on, leaning forwards to gently nuzzle its chest fluff. Rarity swallowed a little noisier than she would’ve liked, depositing her cup back on the plate with a clatter. “Yes, I have, at that, though more to the point they’ve been many brief meetings. Hardly ‘hanging out’.” “Oh. Oh my. Um, is everything alright?” Fluttershy asked, letting her little avian friend go, her smile gone in an instant to be replaced with a small frown. Rarity opened her mouth to reply, to say the first thing that came to mind, but they were hardly flattering words. She bit back her frustration and sighed, deflating. “I don’t quite know. I may’ve mentioned I’m struggling a bit with, ah, work, and it’s hardly Pinkie Pie’s fault. We’re just very different, I suppose,” Rarity muttered. Fluttershy leaned forward to give her tea a dainty sip. “I don’t think you’re all that different, really,” she suggested. Rarity blinked. For an instant, she imagined herself with frizzy, curly hair, a brilliant white unicorn bouncing through market square with a wide grin on her face. A giggle built up and escaped her mouth in a most unladylike guffaw. Fluttershy’s cheeks lit up in a faint blush. “Oh please,” Rarity snorted. “I like Pinkie Pie just fine, I count her amongst my closest friends, but that one deserves a bit more explanation, don’t you think?” “I don’t know, sorry,” Fluttershy muttered, but when Rarity said nothing, she righted herself and cleared her throat. “I just mean, you both think about other ponies a lot. Maybe it’s just me, but I think you’re both very generous. It’s one of those things where it’s different but the same? I’m sure Twilight knows a word for it.” Rarity huffed, though she smiled all the same. “Darling, you see the best in everypony, and I won’t balk at praise,” she replied. “I don’t want to take anything away from Pinkie Pie, either, but the comparison is more than a stretch, I feel.” “You’re probably right,” Fluttershy said, words that were agreement where her fiddling with her hooves said otherwise. Rarity took another sip of tea. “Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” the pegasus ventured, her eyes on her teacup. Rarity rolled her jaw. She had no idea what the honest answer to that question was. In fact, she did not even know what the real question was, the words slowly dissolving as her mind locked on to entirely different things. Shapes that weren’t dresses, but ponies. A singular pony, rather. At length, she leaned in for another sip, noting that her cup was fast becoming empty. “I’m fine,” she muttered with a dismissive wave. “It’s fine. So. Tell me, what have you been up to this week?” “Don’t stay out too late!” Rarity called after Sweetie Belle, receiving no reply from the rapidly receding two-toned tail. She gave a small huff and closed the door after her sister. Another week spent, and another weekend come. Rarity passed the studio by, barely offering the room a glance. The dress sales were declining, and part of her wanted to take some pleasure in that. Pinkie Pie’s little venture had been a short-lived success; nothing that would reach Trotter Street in Canterlot. Rarity poked her cheek as she swallowed that spiteful little thought, pausing on the second floor. She stole a glance inside her bedroom, eyeing her nightstand drawers for a fraction of a second. “Being happy,” Rarity muttered, echoing those words again. As ever, when she invoked them, she saw Pinkie Pie before her. On impulse, she walked on to the rarely used end of the second floor hallway. Seeking to leave Pinkie Pie behind, she ascended the creaking, darkened stairs that led to the attic. Some ponies apparently got happiness for free. For Pinkie Pie, it was evident that happiness was a decision, not a result. A state given gratis rather than the product of labour in the studio. She thought once more of Fluttershy’s words, to her friend’s attempts to liken her to Pinkie Pie, and nearly burst out laughing on the spot. The door at the top of the stairs yielded to her gentle touch, giving off a long, wailing creak. Rarity coughed as her passage through the aging oak door frame rewarded her with a whirling of dust. Taking care to keep her tail off of the floor, she brought a leg up to shield her eyes. No magic had drawn her here. No moonlit spellbound journey, this, but rather, a sojourn brought on by a search for inspiration at its widest and farthest. Rarity magicked aside the curtains to the boutique’s topmost chamber, letting in what little light of day was left. More dust. The unicorn gave a great, wracking sneeze that she was glad nopony was around to hear or see. “What in all things fabulous,” Rarity muttered, crinkling her snout. “Am I even doing here?” Despite her skepticism, she gently shut the door behind her and stepped inside the attic proper. Here were all the things she had cast aside. From antiquated memorabilia that no longer held meaning via things that simply needed to be stored out of sight to outdated furniture that not even she could make fashionable again. Rarity made a grimace at the lava lamp her parents had bought her three years hence. A moment later, she levitated that very same curiosity over, depositing it by the door. Perhaps Rainbow Dash or Pinkie Pie would like it. Shortly after, she laboriously dragged a heavy crate to the side, her horn straining with the effort. She knew what was in that box, and had no desire to revisit that particular memory. Brushing aside some unsightly cobwebs, Rarity spotted a small wooden chest she couldn’t quite recall the nature of. Gently working it free from its corner, she put the chest on top of a garish table that would sadly never quite be “in” again. As an afterthought, she leaned over to crack the window open to let in some air. Voices trickled in. Rainbow Dash’s whoops and cackles mixed with Pinkie Pie’s giggles, but the two ponies were far too distant for Rarity to make out more than that. Rarity only barely resisted the urge to look out the tall spire’s window, instead focusing on the chest. The lid lifted easily enough. Immediately, she was rewarded with an assortment of gems glittering in the limited light of the loft. Rarity levitated out the gem-studded costume designed for a filly half her size, taking a step back. Grand opals and rose rubies adorned the flower-costume’s leaves, each of the gems perfectly spaced and fastened. “Hyacinth? No, Blue Blossom, was it?” Rarity mused aloud, trying to remember the name of the filly who had worn it. All the foals in the school play were impressed with her work, naturally, but one had insisted Rarity keep the dress she’d made for her, despite Rarity’s insistence they all keep their own costumes. Rarity had barely agreed at the end of a far too long quarrel. The costume turned around as Rarity held it aloft, frowning. It had been her crowning moment. Her defining night. She had earned her cutie mark and thought she’d understood what it was she was meant to do. Rarity glanced back at her own flank. Days like these, both her cutie mark and the whole ‘Element of Generosity’ thing felt silly. Misplaced on her. It was tempting to envy Applejack and Fluttershy who knew exactly what it was they were meant to do. Rarity licked her suddenly dry lips. She’d wanted them to keep the costumes. Even now, finding this little gem-studded memory in cloth felt wrong. It wasn’t just her memory; the dress still belonged to Blue Bloom. That was her name, she remembered now. That was how she had wanted it. She had wanted Blue Bloom to keep it. The attic was cramped and entirely too small for the realization. On wooden legs, Rarity walked over to the tiny attic window, resting her head on the dusty windowsill with nary a care for her coat. Outside and far below in the little park that hid behind her boutique, Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash were playing. There seemed to be no rhythm or reason to what they were doing; Dash swooped down after Pinkie, and Pinkie herself giggled and bounced around. Suddenly, Fluttershy’s words made some semblance of sense. As if that wasn’t enough, so did Pinkie Pie’s ramblings. Rarity glanced around the empty attic as if though admitting as much was a hazard in and by itself. Pinkie Pie did nothing but frolick around trying to make others happy. Sometimes that was hard work, as Pinkie Pie had explained, but it was the core of her being. As for her own part— Rarity made for the door. Her legs moved mechanically as she turned the words around and around in her head. When had she lost sight of her own purpose so completely? The second floor whisked by, as did the boutique’s front door. She found herself speeding up once she was out, moving at a brisk canter as she skirted around her home and made for the park. “Pinkie Pie!” Rarity called, long before she made it within earshot of the two ponies. Some stallion or other gave her an odd look that she hardly noticed. “Pinkie Pie!” she called again, still moving with determination. She raced across the small bridge that spanned the brook, hooves thundering against rock and then soil. Finally, Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash stopped their little games, looking her way. “Pinkie,” Rarity called once more, slowing down. Pinkie was smiling as she always did, tail swishing and bobbing. Rainbow Dash was giving her a curious look, ears perked as she landed at Pinkie’s side. “Oh, hiya Rarity!” Pinkie said, waving as if though they did not stand close enough to touch, now. “What’s up?” Dash asked. “Are you running? Exercising?” “No, I, hah—I need,” Rarity tried, slowly steadying her breath. “I need Pinkie Pie.” Rainbow Dash arched a brow impossibly high, and Pinkie Pie giggled. “Oh gosh, usually—” the pink mare began. “Please,” Rarity interrupted, fixing her with a stare. “You are right, but you are also wrong,” she added. It was entirely respectless to demand of her time like this, of course. Rarity opened her mouth to amend herself. To take her words back, or to add to them; anything. Before she could speak, Pinkie and Dash’s eyes met. The brash flier grinned at Pinkie Pie and nudged her with a hoof. “Catch you later Pinks,” Dash said, breaking into a hover. “Yeppers!” Pinkie affirmed, giving Dash a brief hug. “I think this is kind of important.” “I don’t mean—” Rarity tried, but Pinkie silenced her with a giggle. “It’s okay, silly. Let’s go!” Pinkie said. “Very well, I, ah, yes,” Rarity replied, turning on the spot and leading the way back towards the Boutique. The thoughts were still warring for room in her head, but as she stitched them together, they all fit in. It was an almost subconscious process, now. “You know I still can’t make you a dress,” Pinkie said, tilting her head. “I mean, I thought of two different ways to make earth ponies fly since yesterday, and one of them even doesn’t involve balloons or a catapult, but I’m really bad at dressmaking.” Rarity shook her head. “I think you would be quite good at it if you took the time to learn the basics. You and I, we, ah. We aren’t so different, I think, and that might extend to this. With all the time spent decorating, you must have an eye for symmetry, or at the very least beauty.” Pinkie Pie lowered her gaze to the ground, a much more demure smile on her face for a second. “Aw. Thanks, but you didn’t really want to talk about dressmaking with me, did you?” she asked. Rarity paused to open the door for them, frowning at the accuracy of the almost staggeringly lucid question. “No. No I did not,” she agreed. “You were right.” “Wow, I don’t hear that often. Or, maybe I do. Maybe half the time, almost! What did I say now?” Pinkie Pie queried. At first, Rarity gave no reply. She stared down the door to her studio, and the first few steps towards that room were hard fought. As of late, she had far too many unhappy memories tied to that exact part of her boutique. Her legs all tensed up, but when she managed to take the first step, the next one followed easier, and just like that, the battle was won. With a triumphant grin, Rarity led the way into her workroom, gesturing towards the little model’s pedestal she kept. “You said ‘No you don’t’,” Rarity stated. “Oh. Those don’t sound like my words at all,” Pinkie gasped. “Are you sure it wasn’t something with a ‘yes’?” Rarity giggled. “No, I said I make dresses. That it is what I do. You protested.” As she spoke, Rarity magicked over all the silk she could find. Her colors paraded in front of her, and within seconds she found the ones she wanted. Shimmering pearly white and a deep pink. “That’s not what you do at all,” Pinkie shrugged, lifting a hoof as Rarity wound the fabric underneath. With expert precision, Rarity swept her in layers of fabric that seemed to make themselves. Pinkie stood before her, and all thought of how the dress would look upon herself or in her store was gone. “You don’t decide to be happy. You do work at it,” Rarity added, frowning. She watched Pinkie Pie’s face for any sign of recognition—or displeasure. Perhaps she had it all wrong. She doubted it, but there was always the risk. “Huh. Um. I don’t really think about it like that,” Pinkie said, face scrunched up in consternation. “I just want to make other ponies happy. That makes me happy. But I can make other ponies happy when I’m happy, so, oh wow, my head hurts now.” Rarity laughed while the scissors did her bidding. “You do not think of it as hard work, I suppose, but it is.” “Sure,” Pinkie agreed. “Is that good? Can I have some fudge for that? That totally sounds like something prize-worthy!” “If I had any fudge left, rest assured, I would give it to you,” Rarity said, a faint blush on her cheeks. “There’s one over by the window! I can smell it!” Pinkie claimed. Rarity squinted, and sure enough, one unopened and forgotten fudge wrapper rested by the corner of the windowsill. With a roll of her eyes, Rarity levitated over the stray candy to Pinkie. The earth mare seized the treat in her mouth, wrapper and all, only to spit the wrapper out a moment later. “Positively criminally disgusting, dear,” Rarity commented. “But this is all about me,” Pinkie said. “I love talking about me, especially if it’s about me and candy, but—” “I have, for all purposes and intents, made it,” Rarity said. “Made what?” “It! The it. My dresses are sold in Canterlot, I’m in the weekly fashion magazines more often than not, and honestly, I never cared for the bits themselves,” Rarity explained, giving her friend a wan smile as she grabbed needle and thread. “Trim? Ah. Yellow. But which shade—nevermind, I know,” she murmured. “Aw, that’s great! Congratulations!” Pinkie beamed. “Hardly news, but yes, sure,” Rarity agreed, narrowing her eyes as she leaned closer to make sure the seams were right. “Except, it’s not all good news. I suppose I’m a little like Rainbow Dash in that respect.” “She’s a pegasus, silly,” Pinkie commented. “Quite,” Rarity sighed, smiling. “She’s also fiercely competitive, and, more to the point, she needs something to fight, something to strive for. Haven’t you ever wondered why she’s never joined up with the Wonderbolts?” Pinkie Pie’s smile faltered for a moment, the corners of her mouth tilting dangerously. “I just hope she doesn’t. I don’t want her to move from Ponyville,” the earth mare said, ears drooping. Rarity puffed out her cheeks and gave her tools a rest, warmly nuzzling Pinkie Pie’s cheeks. “For all your insight into how I work, you apparently missed this one, darling. Have you ever seen Spitflame or whatever her name is perform a sonic rainboom?” “Um, no—” “Thrice?” Pinkie Pie licked her lips. “Pinkie, dear, I cannot say for sure, but my personal theory is that joining them would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’s better than they are. Perhaps a year ago she didn’t truly believe it, despite all her bluster. Now, she knows it. She would have nothing to work towards if she admitted it, and you know what Rainbow Dash is like when she’s on top.” “Nappy,” Pinkie giggled. “Restless and bored, yes,” Rarity agreed, frowning. More cloth floated over at her command. “High collar. More is more, here, I believe, but it won’t be too tight.” “That’s a lot of stuff about other ponies,” Pinkie said, craning her neck to lock eyes with Rarity. “You’re still not talking about you. I like hearing about you. You’re neat.” Rarity giggled. “Well, you do know how to make a mare feel special, hm? No, in all seriousness, I am working towards a point and—hold still!” “Sorry,” Pinkie whispered out of the corner of her mouth, her lips barely moving. “I sometimes get lost striving for success, perhaps, but it’s only recently that I forgot exactly what it is I do. What I want to do,” Rarity murmured, surrounding the entire dress with her magic where it lay atop Pinkie. She gave it a few tugs and put her scissors and needles all away. Pinkie giggled. “That tickles,” Pinkie commented, but the look she gave Rarity wasn’t one of her usual wide grins. She smiled, a simple, small and private smile for Rarity alone, full of expectancy. She was waiting for Rarity to finish. “I want to make others shine. To make others happy in my own way. Beauty is a goal, but it’s a tool, too,” Rarity said, tasting the words even as she spoke them. It was hardly a planned speech, but it sounded elegant in its own way. “I think you knew this.” “Everypony wants to make everypony else happy, don’t they?” Pinkie shrugged, glancing over her own flank and all around. “This is really pretty.” “Maybe,” Rarity hummed. “Maybe we all do. But you were wrong, too.” “Oh. Yeah. You said that too. I hear that a lot too. Maybe as much as half the time,” Pinkie giggle-snorted. “You can make me happy, and not just by being a friend,” Rarity said, rolling her neck. “Is it by giving you a hug? Or by throwing you a party? I know we’re having a party soon, and I hope you know that too, but I’m sure I can whip something up on short notice!” Pinkie said, smiling as if though she hoped she’d be called on for exactly that. “No, you can make me happy by accepting this dress,” Rarity said. Pinkie Pie blinked. “It’s yours, not mine. It never was. That’s why it’s the finest thing I’ve designed to date, I think,” Rarity murmured, running her hoof along the fabric. The silk and Pinkie’s coat yielded to her touch; white and pink in the simplest of combinations that still accentuated Pinkie Pie’s own colors, bordered with the yellow of her cutie mark. The collar had traces of Rarity’s own blue, a little touch she couldn’t quite resist. “Thank you,” Rarity added before Pinkie Pie could speak up or protest. Closing her eyes, Rarity leaned against her and rested her head atop Pinkie’s, letting out a soft, contented sigh.