//------------------------------//
// Interlude 1: A Proper Meal 
// Story: Diamond of the Capital Wasteland 
// by Speven Dillberg 
//------------------------------//

A loud growling noise cut off story time. The other five ponies looked to the now-blushing Rarity. “I guess it has been a while since I last ate.”
“When was that?” 
“It must have been three days ago,” the mare replied casually. Her friends stared at her in shock. “What?”
“How can you go three days without food?” Rainbow Dash asked.
“Practice,” Rarity replied unhappily. “Food can sometimes be hard to find out in the Wasteland.”
“We need to get some food into you.” Pinkie’s tone was deathly serious. “I will not have one of my friends go hungry!” She got up and went to tug at Rarity’s tail, but the extreme shortness made it a very awkward situation. The pink mare quickly gave up and instead opted to pick her up and drape the mare on her back. 
“Pinkie, I am perfectly capable of finding something to eat on my own.” Rarity removed herself and brushed herself off. “Though I could use directions,” she added, levitating her pistol and its holster towards her.
“Uhh, Rares, why you bringin’ that thing?” Applejack asked.
“Hmm?” It took her a moment to understand what the question was about. “Oh. Force of habit, I guess,” she muttered as she continued to strap it on. “I just feel vulnerable without it.”
“I’ve read about something like this,” Twilight mused as the group made their way to a private dining room. “A griffon who became so paranoid after a war that he went everywhere with his saber, even to bed.”
Rarity nodded. “I wouldn’t say I’m paranoid, though. ‘Practical’ would be the better word. You never know when something bad might happen out there.”
“I don’t get it,” Rainbow said, hovering two feet above them. “How are you so calm? Shouldn’t you be all, I dunno, jumping at every shadow or something?”
“Keeping a cool head is what keeps someone alive. Panicking at every little thing doesn’t end well.” Rarity stopped suddenly. “Is that...?” She sniffed at the air. “Freshly baked...”
“Cake!” Pinkie screamed, having picked up the smell herself. “I wonder what kind it is. Chocolate, or a cheesecake, or a sponge, or a gateau, or...” The pink mare stopped when she noticed the puddle of drool her friend had created. “Rarity, are you okay?”
“Cake...” she murmured, failing to notice what she was doing. “I haven’t had cake in three months...”
“WHAT!?” Pinkie Pie began to drag her friend off, leaving the rest standing there in confusion. “Okay, we’re gonna get some of that for you, ASAP!”





A chocolate-brown unicorn carefully added the last touches to the third cake and final cake. Ordinarily, Gateau would only make one for Princess Celestia, but one of the palace’s guests had a habit of stealing it away from right under his nose. That pink freak seemed to have command over some of the most basic laws of reality, and she was but an Earth pony!
The doors to the kitchen swung open. Gateau turned to see her. “Oh no you don’t!” he yelled, the other members of the kitchen staff backing away. “This one is for the Princess!”
“It’s an emergency!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed, dragging Rarity into the kitchen with her. 
“I don’t care if the moon is going to fall on Canterlot, nothing is going to let you get this cake!” He stepped in front of the Princess’ cake and pointed at one of the counters. “You want cake, then take those!” he shouted, gesturing at the two simple, bland, yet incredibly large cakes.
“They’ll have to do,” Pinkie murmured to herself. “Rarity, you stay right here.” 
Gateau sighed in relief, thankful he had managed to avert this crisis. He glanced at the cake, making sure the pink she-devil hadn’t done something to it, and saw that it had remained untouched. When he looked back at the white mare, she saw her and her friend sitting at a small table, each of them with a cake in front of them. “Where did she get that table?”
Rarity stared at the cake Pinkie had put in front of her, her eyes wide with wonder. Three months of stale food and dirty water had left a horrible taste in her mouth, one that only good food could wash away. She levitated a fork and slowly, almost timidly, removed a chunk. She held it front of her eyes for a few moments, before carefully placing it in her mouth.
Her eyes seemed to widen even further as she abandoned all pretense of civility. She threw the fork away so hard it that it managed to embed itself into a nearby wall. The rest of her friends arrived to the scene of her mauling the poor cake like a starving wolf.