//------------------------------// // The needle tears a hole. // Story: Outlet. // by Reptilicus //------------------------------// The canvas in the train that had originally been the subject of some brief neurosis on the part of Applejack had been laid in the hotel room against a chair. It had dried, baking in the sun that peeped through the blinds, having been nearly forgotten. It remained a deranged explosion of colors and streaks, signifying little but panic and fear. It was true expression, like many of her paintings. But the emotions represented in it were ones that Applejack preferred to forget. When she and Rarity had returned from the music festival, Applejack immediately set out to give the piece a fresh paintover. The festival itself had been a cacophony of sound. Musicians of all various types had taken to the streets, completely disorganized. All seemed desperate to be heard over the din of the others. It had devolved into a contest to see who could play the loudest, and in some cases, the angriest. From complete percussion to experimental new instruments to whole orchestral ensembles to atmospheric ambient soundscapes, every genre seemed to have representation in some form. Scratch and Applejack thought the whole festival was very funny. The constant egging on of the crowds and competition by bands on both sides of the street proved to be wildly entertaining. Octavia had grabbed a cassette tape for every musician they had passed. She had an appreciation for any genre, and was eager to hear things that were new and different. By the time they had left the festival her saddlebags had been bulging with records and tapes, much to her delight. But as the afternoon began to end, the four ponies departed and Applejack and Rarity found themselves back in the hotel room, with the former staring at her strange art piece. The one she hadn't touched since their train ride. "What are you planning on doing with it?" asked Rarity as she lay curled up on the bed watching Applejack stare at the ruined canvas. "I ain't a hun'red percent sure yet. I think I have an idea about somethin' I wanna make. Still kinda thinkin' about it." Applejack scratched her head with the paintbrush. She did have something in mind but it was a little embarrassing. And she sure as hay wasn't going to do it with Rarity in the room. She'd get her chances over the course of the rest of the night and the following day to work on the piece. Every time Rarity would leave the hotel on business, Applejack would go out onto the hotel balcony and paint. Whenever Rarity arrived back, Applejack would quickly throw a sheet over the canvas before the two went out to eat or see some new event in Manehattan. It was imperative the surprise not be ruined and Rarity see the painting before it was complete. Applejack had finally come to the conclusion to make this one a gift, specifically for her friend. It remained difficult to concentrate, however. The Orange business card that Rarity had brought back had been placed on the dresser with a few other business cards to disguise its intent. Though a simple piece of paper, the emblem was enough to give Applejack the shivers. The light smell of whiskey that wafted off of it soon filled the hotel room, making Applejack woozy. When the feeling got unbearable she grabbed the card and hurled it off the balcony, watching with satisfaction as it was lost to the steam and smog, borne away on the unforgiving autumn winds. The stench the card left remained however and made it very difficult for Applejack to function, and she was quite glad whenever Rarity had a new activity for them to do. It was a blessed distraction from her memories. ********************************************************************* The small rotary phonograph that sat in the hotel room began to ring a deep tone as Applejack finally pulled herself away from the painting, satisfied with how it came out. The canvas which had once depicted a chaotic blend of nothing now was a small orange hill. Grass covered in the red and yellow leaves of autumn. On either side were wiggly smudged maple trees, their leaves orange and brown. The tip of the hill was illuminated by the large rising sun, a great yellow circle full of small articulate white and sky blue swirls and shapes. The sky itself, a light see green, sat clearly with no clouds to ruin its perfection. Atop the hill sat two smiling ponies, one orange and one white. Very simple in design they were, made almost entirely of rectangular shapes in the form of horses. But it was clear who they were meant to be. Applejack grinned as she surveyed the work. It had been difficult. Now on the night of the auction, the mare felt more nervous than ever. The very idea that crowds of ponies were, at this moment, placing bids to buy her art was thrilling and frightening all at once. This mixed with her suspicions of the formerly smelly business card Rarity had found were working together to make her feel quite jumpy and light-headed. She slowly stood and made her way to the phonograph, using a paint-covered hoof to press the "RECEIVE CALL" switch as the yellow and jade trumpet-like ear piece began to putter out sounds. "Applejack, are you there?" came Rarity's voice, hardly recognizable through all the noisy feedback and static. The sounds of the crowd were also evident. The auction was clearly in full swing. "Yeah, I'm here Rare." Applejack answered as she leaned against the bed, staring at the painting. "How are you feeling? Anxious still?" "A lil' bit. Better than earlier by a long shot." "Do you think you're well enough to come down to the auction house? There's quite a few guests here who would like to meet you." "Not sure yet. But I'm darn sure gonna try. I got a lil' surprise for ya when I get there, Rare." "I have a surprise for you here as well. But do hurry if you're going to come!" With a click the call was over and Applejack sat up from the bed. The time had finally come. What she had originally assumed would be a hopeless venture had blossomed into something she never would have guessed. When Rarity had first told her that ponies would want to love and cherish her art, pay good bits for it, Applejack had scoffed at the idea. But now, on this night, there was a slight feeling of giddiness. And something else. The same emotion Applejack had felt when Rarity and Pinkie had first placed her abandoned paintings onto the lawn of Sweet Apple Acres. The same emotion she had felt when her friends had gathered around to observe and compliment her work. Pride and confidence intermingling. Applejack grinned to herself. When they had left Ponyville, she had been so frightened to even approach being a part of something so fancy as a gallery. But now she almost felt.....eager to see how this whole shebang would turn out. This journey had changed her. She was a more confident pony. No more waiting. No more worrying. With a small nod, the earth mare adjusted her hat, put on the dress that had been lovingly crafted by her best friend, strapped the painting to her back, and made her way out of the hotel room. With a happy trot she made her way downstairs. ************************************************************************************ With a click the call was over and Rarity stepped back from the ornate electrostatic microphone and speaker that sat fixed upon one of the walls within the auction house. With a small sigh she pushed her bangs back behind her ear and turned around to see Opal and Irma Orange both standing expectantly a few feet away. Rarity gave them a sheepish grin as she approached. "She's not coming is she?" Opal slurred. He had been drinking quite a bit already, and it showed. "She said she's going to try." Rarity said, trying not to frown at the drunken stallion. "But if she cannot attend, I already have a Plan B worked out." "And what if I may ask, is Plan B, Miss Rarity?" Irma asked, her coif of orange hair slouching left as she tilted her head. "I shall have someone chauffeur us to the hotel room. Then you can be reunited with Applejack and we can have a nice evening together!" "Please, call her April." Irma asked, her face becoming a very delicate scowl. "I always disliked her birth name." Rarity smiled and nodded, though inside she was a raging maelstrom of emotions. Every moment she spent with the Oranges she grew to dislike them more and more. They seemed to have no appreciation for anything under than aristocratic diversions and upper society conversation. Every mention of something Applejack had accomplished or said had caused the two Oranges to either frown or chuckle in polite unpleasant laughter. To top it off, Opal continued to drink, and had managed to finish off a punch bowl almost entirely on his own. Irma wasn't much better, having downed quite a few glasses of wine as the two had made their way around the auction house, hobnobbing with all the other art-lovers and rich ponies who had come to the event. They had barely even glanced at Applejack's beautiful art. It was almost as if they didn't seem to care their niece had an incredible talent. Rarity trotted off from them, her smile fading, to see how the auction itself was going, worried that her plan was falling apart at the seams. But luckily, she thought to herself, she was an expert seamstress. ****************************************************************************** Applejack sat slack jawed on the other side of the street from the auction house. It was like a giant octagon made of illuminated glass. Every panel of glass containing either a doorway or several arched windows that gleamed colorful rays of light out onto the street. Scarlet cylindrical towers, several stories tall, were bursting from the slanted aluminum roof, each topped with a statue of a famous pony philosopher. It was modern. It was beautiful. It was..... "Coooool!" Applejack mumbled to herself as she looked at the building. Even now, quite a few fancily dressed Manehattanites were trotting towards the building. Applejack felt a knot start to form in her stomach. This was almost overwhelming to see. And she hadn't even been inside yet. With a sharp inhalation she hitched her dress up a bit and galloped across the street. The interior was just as lovely as the exterior. Red walls of finely treated wood filed through every hallway, interrupted by unpainted bark-brown plastic upon which art pieces sat, small golden plaques under each, displaying the date, author, and price of the work on display. Sculptures of tremendous detail and quality sat on the floor, protected by small golden fence posts, topped with glass spheres. The floor was a deep jade color, with gilded designs under the finish. Griffons, drakes, cathedrals, and bits of vernacular architecture, very detailed, gleamed across the floor, shining golden in the colorful bulbs that cascaded along the ceiling. Deep red paneling divided the lights with burnished plastic carvings going down the length where ceiling met wall. Applejack stood for a moment as she entered, just admiring it all. It was fancy, and for the most part useless, but it was breathtaking all the same. It took a moment for the notion to dawn on her that she had no idea where to go inside the building. It wasn't a large place, but it was certainly intricate. And she didn't even know where exactly her auction was being held. She glanced around until she saw an old moustachioed unicorn stallion sitting at what appeared to be the help desk. "Pardon me, mister." Applejack called as she trotted up to him. "But uh, is there like a map for this place?" "No, but I can redirect you to wherever it is you are looking for miss......?" the stallion never took his eyes off of the paperwork that sat in front of him. "My name's Applejack! I'm havin' an auction in here today!" "Really, now? I don't have any listings for an auction by an Applejack here. No apples or jacks at all." "Huh. That's weird. Maybe I'm in the wrong buildin' though I coulda sworn this is where Rarity said it'd be." "Oh you're with the Carousel Group with Lady Rarity. Ah yes, she's organizing a private auction just a few rooms over in the Archipelago Suite. Simply head down this hallway here, make a left at the third hall. It's right in the back of the building. Good luck finding her, miss. I imagine it's very crowded in there right now." "Thanks, mister!" Applejack chirped as she took off. The stallion went back to his paperwork. He wondered what she had meant by 'I'm having an auction', considering he hadn't heard the name Applejack before. He usually kept such good track of things. Maybe he was getting forgetful in his old age. Applejack made her way through the hallways, trying her best not to bump into the other ponies who were trying to look at the various art pieces. A wood sign passed that confirmed she was heading the correct direction. Archipelago with a small arrow pointing down the hall. Applejack smiled as she noticed a young couple observing a painting she recognized as one of hers. It was one of her early paintings, a pine tree with a very large colorful bird sitting in it. The bird was quite fat and the entire tree was bending over due to its weight, trying to accommodate the obese avian. Applejack crept up behind the couple, curious to hear their conversation. "Do you think the tree represents the Canterlot government, maybe? Like how Celestia's monarchy is sort of crumbling under the constant demand for a more representative democracy? Maybe mocking how slothful Celestia seems to have become, rarely leaving her tower except for publicity events to keep up the faith in her?" the mare asked as she fluttered a small dainty fan at her face. "No, of course not!" the stallion to her side gruffly retorted. "It's us, you see. All this decadence we surround ourselves with. All our vices and peeves, our meaningless trinkets and riches that we enjoy at a purely carnal level with little care for how it affects the environment around us. No my dear, the bird is clearly representative of US and not a democracy. The tree is a mere allegory for nature itself as we continue to destroy it for our own baseless consumption." "Heh!" Applejack chuckled from behind them. "That's a funny way of lookin' at it. I just kinda felt like paintin' a big ol' fat bird that day." The couple turned to Applejack with a look of unimpressed curiosity. Applejack smiled and held out a friendly hoof. "Howdy! My name's Applejack." "That....nice. You said you felt like painting a bird that day?" the mare asked as she covered her hoof in a lace doily and gently shook Applejack's paint-covered hoof. "Yes'm! Not sure why to be honest. Maybe in some weird subtle way I did want to paint all that fancy stuff y'all were talkin' about. Can't imagine why though." "So you are claiming that you are the artist who produced this piece." "Heck yeah, I am. I made a bunch of 'em actually. I think there's more of them in the Urkel-Pogostick room. We're havin' an auction today." "Yes, I was aware of the auction." the mare replied, wrinkling her snout. "But, I'm afraid I can't abide liars. Good day to you!" The two walked off in a huff as Applejack sat there confused. A liar? Applejack was no liar! "Hey, wait a minute!" she shouted, catching up with them. "I really did paint that! I even finished a new painting tonight." She turned around to display the canvas strapped to her back, backing up into their faces so the couple could see the finished work up close. "See there? That's me and my good friend Rarity. She's the one runnin' this here auction tonight!" "Oh goodness!" the stallion shouted, backing away from the painting and Applejack's flank as both were shoved a bit too close to he and his wife's face. "How maladroit! How gauche!" "Why thanks!" Applejack said, not knowing what the words meant and assuming it was a compliment as she whirled back around with a proud smile on her face. "I gotta go look for Rarity, now! Y'all have fun now y'hear?" And with that Applejack boldly skipped down the hallway, not realizing the canvas she had strapped to her back had been dripping a few droplets of paint on the floor, much to the annoyance of one of the maids who had been cautiously following Applejack with a mop and a look of frustration. The young couple sat there, confused. Who was that mare? And why did she have a priceless piece of art on her back? Surely she wasn't the one the paintings were accredited to? The names on the plaque were entirely different. Perhaps it was time to alert a security guard. ********************************************************************************* "Well, I get the sensation she's going to be a no-show." Opal murmured as he checked his watch. "I suppose we might as well get on to the hotel, then. See if the poor dear fell asleep or something." "Let's leave it up to Rarity. I wouldn't mind staying here if she's willing to display some faaaashiioooon adviiiiice!" Irma sang in a dialect that made Rarity cringe. "You know I don't think either of you has had a good look at your niece's gallery yet!" Rarity replied with the most polite grin she could muster. "She paints portraits of ponies she knows, landscapes, monuments, sometimes just whatever seemed to pop into her head." "I took a glance at some." Irma said, looking at her husband. "It seemed fairly pedestrian fair. What about you, Opey? It was your men who labeled the pieces. See anything you like?" "Not sure. We might as well take a second glance I suppose. Considering we paid to have that art tutor try to find if April had a creative bone in her body so many years ago, we might as well think of this as a sort of justification for our expenses from back then. Let's take a look around." The Oranges disappeared into the crowd as Rarity sighed. It was beginning to dawn on her why Applejack had seemed to react negatively to the business card she had seen. There was clearly a very bad stigma to these Oranges. One that had affected her friend deeply. Even a short time in their company had made this plainly obvious to the white unicorn. Rarity turned and decided to see how the auction itself was going, a welcome distraction from hanging out with this fragment of her friend's fertile family. There were quite a few rows of chairs in front of the auctioneer podium. Local celebrities, politicians, nobles, aristocrats, beatniks, and some very common-looking lovers of art sat about the rows, each with an assigned number and sign. A small chubby goat with a monocle was in charge of the proceedings, a small gavel clasped in his hoof as he announced the pieces and took bids. "Our next piece is tentatively titled 'Candy Cottage' by miss Jacques." the goat announced as a painting of the Sugarcube Corner was placed on stage delicately in front of the crowd. "A bit of history on this piece. Apparently this colorful locale is an actual bakery somewhere out west. And is a particular favorite spot of the artist for brunch. Let the bidding start at 2,000 bits." One by one, small signs were hoisted into the air, the bids going higher and higher as the ponies competed to see who would bring home the beautiful piece of art. Rarity smiled as she watched the price rise. In the back of her mind, she knew this was the most important thing she could do to help Applejack have a better life. This, above all else, was going to let them spend more time together. Maybe even allow Granny Smith to retire and live out her twilight years in relaxation. Eventually the bidding came to a slow as the goat adjusted his monocle, clicking his teeth in anticipation. "And finally we have arrived at 15,000 bits. Will there be any other bids? Going once. Going twice. Going thrice? SOLD!" he announced, slamming the gavel onto the podium. "For 15,000 bits to Mrs.Butterbean in row three. Congratulations, madame!" Rarity smiled as she watched the proceedings and listened to the mutterings of the crowd. Apparently this particular painting had sold LESS than many of the others. And it wasn't as if 15k bits was a trivial amount. That was enough to keep a pony well fed and sheltered for a long time. A sense of accomplishment filled the mare as she looked around. Despite some unmentionable rudeness from a few guests, the entire auction was going perfectly without a hitch. Nothing could possible go wrong at this point, she thought. That thought would soon prove to be incorrect as she got up from her seat to mingle with the crowd. ****************************************************************************** "Gotta get back. Back to the past with Apple Jack. Ja-jack-jack-jack!" Scratch's voice rang loudly through one of the rooms as Applejack entered. With a small hop she had slid up next to her new friend and thrown a friendly arm around her shoulder. "Hey there palsy. You know when Rarity said you made art I didn't think it'd be something like this!" Scratch pointed a hoof at a painting of a moss-covered sleeping bear. "I am disgusted, Applejack. DISGUSTED! That you can paint this well and I cannot. Friggin' heck, this stuff is choice. And you have no training or nothin' eh?" Applejack couldn't help but chuckle at the DJ's antics. "Nope! Not sure what to say. It's just somethin' I found myself doin'. Kept doin' it cause it felt right." "Yeah, I know that feel." Scratch said, putting a hoof to her chin and nodding solemnly. "What's that you got on your back, there? A new piece of resistance or whatever they calls it in these here fancy parts?" "Oh this?" Applejack said, motioning to the canvas on her back. "It's a gift for Rarity. She's been awful sweet to me lately. I wouldn't even be here if it wasn't for her. I'd still be at home shuckin' corn and peeling taters and doing all my chores." "Awww!" Scratch squealed as she walked behind Applejack to look at the piece. "It's you n' ol Rare-bear sitting on top of a hill. She's gonna love it, Jack." "Yeah I hope so." Applejack replied, rubbing the back of her neck sheepishly. "Anyway uh, what brings y'all here to this whole....event? Are you....participatin' in the auction? I still don't feel right chargin' friends for artwork I can give 'em for free." "Nah, I ain't here to buy anything. I just swung by to take a look at your stuff. And for the free wine and punch in the main hall. Plus they have these little crackers with shrimp on them that are just...oh my Celestia....so good. They have them for the griffons, you know. I know ponies aren't supposed to eat meat, cause it's unnatural and blah blah blah. But you know what? Those shrimp taste good and I do not care." "Heh, well alright. It was good to see ya again, Scratch. One day ya should come down to Ponyville for a visit." "Sure. Next time me and Octy come down to visit her Mom, we can hang out with you and Rarity. Make it like a double-date or somethin'. Anyway Ciao! I got crackers to eat and then eventually a nightclub to run. Crackers, first." Applejack grinned as she watched the strange unicorn depart for another room of the building. So far this night was proving to be pretty enjoyable. Maybe she'd have to try the shrimp as well. Or get some of that free punch. Her throat felt parched. Maybe she'd follow Scratch to wherever the food and drinks were kept, then try to meet up with Rarity later? Yeah that sounded like a good idea. However Applejack would not get that chance, as that very moment she was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. She turned to see a sharply dressed stallion with a flat cap and overcoat, a small gleaming badge on the pocket and a flashlight strapped to his hip. One of several security guards for the auction house. He nodded grimly at Applejack. "Pardon me, miss. But I received a note that someone may have taken one of the art pieces without paying for it." "But.....ya don't mean this thing on my back, do ya?" "Yes, actually. Although I can see from the trail you've left...that this is clearly fresh paint. I'm actually a bit confused now. Why do you have a still-moist canvas on your back, young lady?" Applejack turned to look behind herself, noticing for the first time that the painting had been leaving a small series of colorful drips of pigment everywhere she had walked. She also noticed for the first time a maid had been following her, delicately cleaning every droplet off the floor with a deep frown on her face. Applejack blushed slightly and took the painting off her back, laying it flat on the floor so it could no longer drip. "Aw heck. I've done made a mess of your nice clean establishment now haven't I?" Applejack said, leaning so she could shout to the maid. "I'm real sorry about that! I didn't know I was makin' a mess! Honest!" "Are you trying to get featured in the auction, ma'am? This isn't the way to go about it. As nice as it'd be to just bring freshly painted pieces in here and just sort of toss them to the crowd, there's actually a rather large amount of paperwork to go through." the stallion said, raising an eyebrow. "Oh I know. I'm already featured, sir. My friend Rarity already took care of all the paperwork n' stuff." "Well, please don't be offended if I find your claims....well, dubious." "Hmmm?" "I will cut to the chase, then. What is your name and which wing is the auction being held in?" "Oh! My name is Applejack! And uh....it's the wing right past this room. The Arching Patio room or summat." "The Archipelago Suite? But that's not reserved for a 'Applejack'." "Well, sure it is!" Applejack said, as she looked around. "Almost all the paintin's here are mine. Made 'em myself." It was at that moment that Applejack took a close look at one of the gold plaques that sat alongside her art. She crept up to it, squinting. What she saw made her flush as her blood ran cold. [Artist: April Jacques. Donated by Carousel Clothing and Orange Industries.] Applejack doubled over as the words hit her. The knot in her stomach growing in pain as a wave of nausea washed over her. That name...that was a name she hadn't heard in a long time. A name she hadn't wanted to think about for the rest of her life if possible. And why, why was it there? Why was it on HER art? Why was her art being credited to that name her Aunt and Uncle had given her out of shame? Why was her Aunt and Uncle's company listed as a donator? Why were they listed alongside Rarity? Was this a joke? Some sick prank? This couldn't be real, Applejack thought. She struggled to stand as the sickness continued to pound into her brain, old wounds ripping open as memories she had tried so hard to forget began to make their way out of the murk of her mind. The months she had spent here. The things she'd been through. Her failed escape. And now, here it was, in public alongside the name of her best friend. Applejack started to panic as her nerves began to catch up with her brain. Her anxiety levels skyrocketing. Sweat pouring down her face as she struggled to stay standing. Why was her best friend part of this monstrosity? Where was Rarity? Had she been ok with this? How could she do this? How did she get in cahoots with Orange Industries? What about......oh no. Applejack went white as a sheet as it hit her. That familiar smell of whiskey. The business card. And finally the words Octavia had spoken two nights beforehand, echoing into the present like an unchained fiend, thrashing its way out of the darkness: "Keep an eye on her, Miss Jack. She's as conniving as she is lovely. Don't become yet another gem in her crown. Another plaything for her to brag about." With a shout of dismay Applejack ran into the main room, determined to find out what was going on, as grief began to work its way into the cloud of fear that had formed in her head. Her final painting lay alone at the feet of the guard who simply stood in confusion, unsure of what was going on. ************************************************************************************************** The auction was almost a third over and Rarity still hadn't even gotten to make a list of everything that had been sold and the prices. When Applejack arrived she wanted to give her the good news, along with the small family reunion of course. She had already planned it out in her head. Applejack would arrive in the room, wearing the ruffled red dress Rarity had made just for her. She'd look around, probably confused or uncomfortable, being in a room with so many famous and upperclass ponies. Rarity would greet her sweetly, taking her hoof and leading her to where the auction was, happily letting her know just how much money she had made so far. Then somewhere in the midst of it all, Applejack's pupils would dilate as her gaze fell upon something, someone she recognized. She would stand, and walk cautiously towards the elderly couple sitting a few seats over. Rarity would watch for a moment as they embraced, trying her best not to tear up. It would be beautiful, a moment she would cherish always, knowing she had performed the same sort of touching act for her friend that she herself had received once. It had been the perfect plan. But it had already gone awry, as Rarity's train of thought was interrupted once again by Opal and Irma orange. They had only spent about 5 minutes viewing Applejack's entire portfolio of displayed work and were already bored of it. They plopped themselves into the empty seats at Rarity's right side, casually glancing at the auction while having their own little private conversation. Their whispers just loud enough to be overheard by Rarity who was trying with all her might to hold her tongue. To be seen and not heard. But it was proving to be quite the challenge. "Well this has been a pleasant excursion but I've had just about enough, haven't you, dear?" Opal whispered to Irma. "Let's not leave quite yet. I'm curious as to how many bits these odds and ends are actually pulling in." Irma whispered back. "That one with the large pigeon sitting in the tree just fetched about 30,000 bits, I think." "Goodness gracious. Hard to think it's April of all ponies who managed to create such a storm." "Yes, particularly after how hard she resisted our attempts to culture her." "I still remember how embarrassed I was was she talked about what mules were to Golden Key." "Aha, yes I recall that. Golden didn't want to go outside for a week. Always was the skittish fellow, wasn't he?" "Yes. Oh, April was such a strange girl. I wonder if her accent ever came back." "Well she has been living with the Apples again for the majority of her life, Irma. Hard as we tried, there's only so much one can do to fix a problem like her voice." "Do you think she still has...you know.....scars? From the accident?" "Doubtful, my dear. The Apples may be uncultured bumpkins, but they are clever inventive folk. No doubt they've some sort of poultice made of beans and pine needles that probably clears up ailments such as that." "I wonder how much she remembers of her time with us?" "Enough I'd hope. Considering all the money we spent trying to get her right." "What a fortune we wasted. It still upsets me. By all accounts, half the money these paintings are making should be yours, Opal." "Should be? Yes. In the long run, perhaps. Maybe I'll run the idea by her later. If I say it with enough savvy perhaps the idea will fly right over her head like with the inheritance and she'll sign whatever contracts we need." "I should think Miss Rarity would agree. She's a proper businessmare. No doubt taking some of the proceeds for this thing for her own liking." "No doubt. Oh look at that. That painting went for nearly 100,000 bits. That's a shocking amount of money for such an amateurish rendition of a pig." "There must be quite a market for such quaint art pieces, Opal. It's so funny in a way." "How so, dearest?" "We took her in. We tried. She ran off. And now years later she's an adult finding success and even a marefriend." "I don't think Miss Rarity is a marefriend, Irma. Though it wouldn't surprise me if April grew up to be...you know....like THAT. Particularly when being raised by what's left of the Apples." The fluorescent lamps on the ceiling above Rarity and the Oranges flickered slightly as Rarity's temper finally reached its breaking point. A few stray sparkles of red magic spewed from her horn as the white unicorn stood from her seat, her jaw clenched as she turned to give the Oranges a piece of her mind. She took a deep breath, inhaling as much as she could, ready to bellow a steady stream of scolds, screams, and insults on these awful, awful ponies. But she soon found herself interrupted by a tap to her shoulder. Rarity turned and felt a shiver pass through her body as she found herself staring into a familiar face and the saddest most grievous green eyes she had ever seen in her entire life. Applejack stood before her, pale and shaking, large tears flowing from her eyes as she gasped, trying to keep in the sobs that were trying to force their way out. With a hoarse gasp she inhaled and rasped out a sentence that made Rarity realize that there had been a tragic mistake. One that would change their friendship forever. "Rarity." Applejack coughed out, her voice breaking as she tried desperately not to scream and cry all at once. "Why.... are all..... my...... paintings credited.... to...... April Jacques?"