I turn the page and I feel my normally purple scales glow a deep crimson with the blush that I know is spreading across my face.
Generosity.
Oh Rarity, that boy-hood crush will never fade from my memory. I was naive then. A bit wet behind the ears and infatuated by such a kind and beautiful mare. I look back on it and snicker. Imagine, me, a dragon with a pony mare! How silly. But deep down I wondered if I had the smallest chance. Maybe a bit too eager, I start to read.
“I suppose there was a reason I keep my boutique spotless and organized. Not just because it is more efficient mind you, but I have a deep and overwhelming urge to be clean and neat…”
“Mom you can’t just go into my room!” the unicorn filly with the snowy coat and dazzling violet mane screams at the top of her lungs. Her mother, the pregnant pink pony with a mane similar to her eldest daughter, scoffs outside the door of her daughter’s room.
“You live in my house and you shall obey my rules!” The full-grown unicorn mare growls and burst open the door. Clutched in her magic is a tub of clothes and fabrics. “I need to place these things in your room.”
“But mom! We have so much stuff!” The small white unicorn huffs as she gestures to outside her room where boxes, bags, knickknacks, clothes, toys, pottery and other various assortments of things one would find at a garage sale was stacked as tall as mountains and as un-maneuverable as the Everfree Forest.
“I need all of this stuff young lady!” and with a huff the mare leaves the room. The filly looks at the box and gulps. Her room is the only room in the house where her mother hasn’t put her any of her stuff. It is a wall dedicated to cleanliness, order and neatness. But slowly the filly can feel that starting to crumble.
The filly kicks the plastic bin with the fabrics in it. When she does, the lid pops off a bit, warped from years of being under heavier boxes. Curious, the filly looks inside. And in the plastic box there are tons of beautiful and bright colored fabrics. Immediately she is enamored by the beautiful textures and colors the textiles held. With her horn she uses a small spell to raise a fabric to her cheek and rubs it.
“It was then when I discovered my passion for fashion. Everything about fabric completely captivated me. The most intriguing part was that it could be any shape I wanted. Fabric doesn’t snap back and it doesn’t invade your privacy...”
Well, this makes sense. I always did find Rarity’s obsession with fashion, fabrics and style a bit overwhelming at times. But I see now how it made her feel.
I hit my head with my balled fist. Why am I just learning these things now? Why couldn’t I have known this when I was younger and she was still alive! I sigh. What else did I not know?
“I left as soon as I could. I couldn’t stand being in that house any longer than absolutely necessary…”
“Rarity, why?” The white stallion with the ordinary brown mane and mustache pleaded with his daughter.
“I simply can’t live here anymore dad.” The filly sighs. “I’ve found a fashion designer that is willing to take me as her apprentice.” She explains. “I’ll still be in Ponyville.” She adds at the end of her sentence.
The pink unicorn does not fight the tears that well up. “But what about your sister? Rarity you can’t just leave us!” She begs.
“Sweetie Belle is fine. I will still visit. As I said, I am still in town. Just across it.” Rarity states matter-of-factly. Despite her size and age she is acting like a full-grown mare. The two adult ponies do not hide their tears.
“You promise to visit marshmallow?” Her father affectionately asks her, using her nickname she had since she was a foal.
“Yes dad, I’ll visit.” Rarity was now holding back her own tears. Leaving your parents at a young age isn’t exactly the easiest thing to do.
“And with that. I left. I did visit like I said, one or two times. I still feel bad for not seeing Sweetie Belle grow up…”
She struck out on her own at such a young age? So I guess that’s why she would take on such huge projects by herself. She was just used to it. I feel my whole perception of the alabaster mare flipped upside-down. If only I knew this stuff all those years ago when I was obsessed with her.
I was foolish and brash. I see now that she never was. She wasn’t able to be. I curse at myself for being so foolish.
“After I got my cutie mark my obligations doubled…”
“Rarity! I need this order filled out as soon as possible!” Yells the yellow-coated mare with a graying mane and a sewing needle as her cutie mark.
“Yes ma’am!” Rarity gets to working on another project on top of one she still had yet to fill. Her mentor is getting old. So old in fact that the Carousel Boutique is almost solely run by Rarity herself.
She uses her magic to lift a swatch of fabric and held it up to a ponyquinn. She started to fold it around the object when the shriek voice of her mentor pulled her out of her work.
“Wrong! Fold the other way!” Her voice cracks before she goes into a coughing fit. Rarity doesn’t look at her mentor and instead folds the dress the other way.
However the fit did not stop and the old mare collapsed on the floor.
“…She died a few days later. I felt horrible at first. She didn’t have any living relatives left so she left the Carrousel Boutique to me. Thinking back on it, she was a nasty old mare, she overpriced customers simply because she could and kept the remaining profits to herself. When I took over the Boutique I vowed never to do what she did.”
I run a claw gently over the page. The elegant magic-writing of the beautiful mare still feels like it was just written yesterday. In my imagination I still smell her scent of fresh flowers and some high class perfume.
When I lift my claw from the paper the memories are gone. They fade away like the memory of what I had for dinner. And so I continue reading.