//------------------------------// // Epilogue // Story: Through Her Lens // by SandyShores //------------------------------// Epilogue Rarity sat in her chair against the window, it was late and she was reading the Ponyville Inquirer, they had a featured article on a local dressmaker turned hero. When she felt a slight surge of pain run through her leg, she reached over onto her nightstand and grabbed the small bottle of aspirin. She downed a few pills with some wine, and although the aspirin didn’t help the pain much, Rarity knew the wine would knock her out soon enough, as she poured herself another glass. She put down the magazine she’d been reading after she determined it was mostly feel good nonsense, the damn article hadn’t even mentioned Applejack, so she made her way over to a second supply of books that her friend had dropped off. This time her friend brought her some books that Rarity could actually sink her teeth into, she grabbed the one she’d been reading ‘A Rose to Kill For’ and opened it back up to where she left off. After a while of reading while leaned against the window, she heard the faint sound of music, she placed the book face down and realized one of her subjects must be home. She grabbed her camera and focused on the source of the music, she noticed the grey mare beginning her practice on the violin once again. This time however, she must’ve opened the window slightly, just enough that Rarity was finally able to hear the wonderful and certainly mastered sounds from the violist. She watched in awe as the mare continued her routine, and although the sound was very faint, Rarity found her music to be absolutely incredible. She continued to watch the mare’s stunning talent, but she couldn’t help but wonder about the pony from the photo frame from a few days ago. Rarity went back to her reading before she again found herself drawn to another pony that she’d been wondering about, she heard indistinctive chatter and looked over at the source. She found Cherilee laughing in her kitchen as she walked an apple pie over to the coffee table. Rarity tilted her camera and found Big Macintosh lay on the couch stifling a short laugh. She watched as they both playfully chatted. After a few minutes of playful banter, Big Mac looked into Cherilee’s eyes and must’ve whispered something beautiful, because the next thing Rarity knew Cherilee had jumped onto Big Mac as they began their embrace. After a long passionate kiss, the two made their way up and out of the living room, like excited filly’s they ran into the bedroom, where Rarity’s show was cut short. Rarity managed a short laugh to herself. ‘What a catch, Cherilee.’ She was about to pick back up her novel, but she noticed Hemingway as he sat at his desk, she knew she had to see what he was up to as well. He was sitting at his desk biting at his hoof, he seemed anxious. He heard a knock on the door and made his way over to answer it, he opened it and talked to a delivery pony who handed him a late night shipment, a large brown box. He signed for it and slid the box across the floor, clearly excited to open it. He tore it opened and smiled as if he’d just won the lottery. He let his hooves fall into the box as he lifted several books and placed them on his desk. Rarity shifted the lens over as was able to read the spines of the books ‘The Night Garden’ was written on the side of each book he placed down. He walked over to his stack of books and lifted the first one up; he ran a hoof over the cover and opened it up to feel the page. He spent several minutes admiring the craftsmanship of the final book, and when he was satisfied with it’s finished quality he set the book back down and opened up his cigar box. He pulled out the one that he’d been saving and let in sit in his mouth as he enjoyed the aroma again. He pulled out a fancy lighter and did some little trick to pop it open before he lit up the cigar. He puffed it away as he picked back up the book and admired his own work. Rarity grabbed a notepad and wrote down the name of the book, she had to read it. After a while of enjoying his victory smoke he grabbed several of the books and ran out of the house, presumably to brag to family or friends. Rarity was glad that she was able to watch him enjoy himself, and couldn’t wait to read his work. Rarity spent the next several hours switching between reading her own book, and peering out of her window to see if anything else was happening. After a few hours of waiting she heard a knock on the door of one of her neighbors and Rarity shot up to see who it was. After a quick scan, she determined the source to be the grey violist’s door. She brought her camera up and watched as she carefully placed the violin on the bed and fixed her hair to open the door. When she opened it she yelled out in excitement and let the pony in, where Rarity got a good look at her. She was a white unicorn with purple goggles resting on top of her head. They looked at each for a moment before they quickly embraced in a hug. They walked over to the bed where the violin sat, and Rarity realized the unicorn must’ve missed the concert, which is why her violist friend was so upset a few days ago. The White unicorn sat on a chair in the corner of the room, while the grey mare carefully picked back up her instrument and quietly reenacted the concert in her bedroom. The unicorn just watched in silent awe as her friend finally had the only important member in the audience listening to her melody. After a while Rarity found herself tearing up, but she wasn’t sure why. Was it because her writer finally found success, or because Cherilee found someone who’d treat her right, or was it even just watching the grey violist playing her most important private concert for a close friend, she wasn’t sure, but for the last time she looked out her window and over to the pitch black house that was once home to a happy couple. Rarity cried, because although she hadn’t let her husband get away with the murder, she also was unable to save the innocent blue pegasus. After she’d cried all she could she made her way over to the bed and after a short struggle she was able to fall into sheets, with the last thought running through her head before she fell into sleep being ‘I’m so sorry Violet Rose, but I won’t ever forget you.’