//------------------------------// // Chapter 4 // Story: The Sound of Diamonds // by PropMaster //------------------------------// - Chapter 4 - I fumbled with my front door, cursing quietly under my breath. After a moment, I managed to get the door open. I stepped inside and I threw myself bodily against the entrance, slamming it shut with a force that shook the frame of the house. “Buck me.” I moved into the kitchen, wincing as my shoulder painfully bumped the corner of the table, sending me limping into a nearby chair. I rubbed the aching spot, growling. Opening the refrigerator with my telekinesis, I felt inside, hoping that Sticky Wicket had remembered to grab me some groceries, including my special request. Finally, something in the fridge clinked, the sound of glass-on-glass, and I withdrew a long-necked bottle. I slid it through the air and slammed it down on the table before me with a grunt. I gripped the bottle firmly and mumbled a spell that shot the cork out of the neck of the bottle with a loud pop. Some cool liquid spattered on my hooves, but I ignored the spill, pressing the bottle to my lips. The smooth, crisp taste of apples and the sharp tang of alcohol mingled on my palette, and I swallowed a mouthful of the strong cider. I set the bottle down, sighing softly and exhaling the burn that lingered in my mouth. I tapped my hoof on the floor softly as I searched for the cork, which had gone sailing away into unknown territory. After a moment, I gave up. I didn’t really care, anyway. I brought the bottle with me as I moved into the den, standing in the center of the room and turning in a slow circle, trying to find some meaning in the stacks of books and reams of paper. I found only an empty space, and perhaps that was what I deserved. I took a small sip of the cider, and set it carefully down on the desk. I pulled my chair out and slumped into it with a grunt. Leaning back, I put my hooves up on the desk and reclined back. I balanced carefully for a moment before settling back onto the floor. “What were you doing?” I spat at myself. What had I been doing? Going out on a date? Looking for romance? Maybe just a good roll in the hay? What was I thinking? “You’re an idiot,” my voice declared to the empty house, and it laughed without feeling. I reached out for the bottle and took another cautious sip of cider. It tasted good. Better than the electric ale. That had been a brilliant idea. “Idiot.” I reached out with my telekinesis, shuffling aside papers on my desk listlessly. I wasn’t sure what I was doing, but I felt like I just needed to occupy myself. Maybe I should have just done what I always did: hide in my work. Bury myself in words and words and words, until I’m covered with an ocean of meaningless messages and action sequences, strung together with catchy phrases and hollow characters like rows of grave markers. What was I doing, moving to Ponyville? Why had I left Manehattan? I could have written a damn epic without shoving my empty skull halfway across Equestria. I had to have space, and for some reason that meant more than just adding a deadbolt on my front door. I reached for the papers in the typewriter, tapping a hoof against the most recent pages of my draft, before snatching them off the typewriter and throwing them aside. The papers scattered in a rain of fluttering noise and rustling crispness, floating to the floor. I didn’t need an epic. I just needed what worked. The golden goose. Give the ponies what they wanted. No more of the romantic notion of writing something that mattered. I didn’t matter, and neither did anything I’d ever written or would write. Young mares with a need for living vicariously through text were my crowd. Squealing fanfillies with visions of grandeur bought the manure that I shoveled hock-over-hoof to them without pause, eating up each successively more trite and banal novella. Whatever got me the bits. Artistic integrity was for starving writers and I hadn’t been one of those in a very long time. I fed a piece of paper into the typewriter viciously, like I was punishing it for some wrongdoing. More out of force of habit than any ritualistic need, I tapped the platen knob, aligning the page’s edge with the type guide, and slumped back in my chair, kicking my hooves up onto the desk. I telekinetically grasped the bottle of cider and took a long pull from it, swallowing the burning liquid in two gulps. The heat in my head spread to the rest of me, leaving me with the comforting feeling of numbness. I fired up my writing spell and focused on the page. The keys flickered and a word appeared. I knew without having to even think about it what sequence of letters had stained the page. Idiot. I laughed harshly, swirling the bottle in my telekinetic grip, listening to the liquid soporific within slosh like a confined ocean storm. Idiot. A non-poetic summation of the last few days. Who had I been trying to fool? Acting normal, like I was nobody. Hiding my identity like some kind of knock-off J. D. Haylinger. Trying to go after a mare who had more class in one hoof than I possessed in my entire being. She deserved somepony better, and I deserved to be alone. I took a small sip of the cider and rested the cool glass of the bottle against my cheek, trying to quell the burning sensation that filled them. What an idiot I had been. She was so intelligent, so sophisticated, and so interesting. She mattered to so many ponies, and I was just clinging to her like so many others undoubtedly had, trying to get some of her strength of character to rub off on me, trying to make myself matter to somepony good. Not just the ‘idea’ of good, but a truly good pony: a generous soul that would have given all of herself to a hack like me if I could have fooled her for long enough. Because that’s what I had been doing. Fooling her, just like I had been fooling myself. Pretending to be a gentlecolt, pretending to be somepony that I wasn’t. Projecting this air of mystery, rather than the hermit-like truth of my pitiful existence. I was a nobody; a writer who stumbled onto a golden goose and got popular by pure happenstance. So many better writers than I still struggled in the dirt to be noticed, to rise above the rest and claim even half the following I had: a quarter of what I had, a fifth, even! So many would have been happy just to be read. I began writing. Time to stop caring about epic tales of things that didn’t matter, and focus on giving the ponies what they wanted: more of the same. I gave a bitter laugh as the words spread cancerously across the white pages. I could write anything and they’d lap it up. I could kill my heroine and they’d come crawling back for more. Maybe I’d do that. Maybe, this time, she wouldn’t duck fast enough, think a little too slowly, and... My laugh caught in my throat and warped into something different, something nearly foreign to me. I hadn’t cried in five years. The realization sent me laughing again, but it was tinged with hiccuping gasps of air, and damp tracks stained the fur on my cheeks. I dismissed my writing spell, dismissed all my spells, and sat in the darkness, whimpering and sobbing in a twisted-up echo of days gone by. It was much later that I finally moved from my seat, tipping forward to land heavily on my four unsteady legs. I gripped the bottle and shifted with it to the kitchen, leaning heavily against the doorway, using the house to support my shaking frame. I managed to open the refrigerator and slide the bottle onto a shelf without spilling it. I smirked to nopony in particular, proud of my rare case of drunken coordination, and sat down slowly. I reached up with one hoof to the scarf that still hung around my neck. I tugged one end of the fabric, slipping it off off, and held it in my hooves carefully. I ran a hoof along the material, feeling the texture of the cloth. I could still smell irises in the weave of the scarf... I could feel the care and attention to detail it was made with. Why had she given this to me? I’d never done anything to deserve it. It matched my colors, she’d said. The longer thread at the ends of the scarf complimented my fetlocks. I chuckled grimly to myself, murmuring, “I guess I won’t need to get those trimmed anymore.” There was nopony left to impress. I stripped off the jacket and carefully folded it, before hanging it over the back of a chair in the kitchen. With one hoof on the wall, I slipped and staggered my way to my bedroom, spilling a few books and records from the shelf as I moved through my den. I  leaned sideways as I reached the edge of my bed, falling into the cool sheets. I gathered the blankets by my side as I shifted into a more comfortable position, and leaned against them, draping one hoof over the bunched up mound of covers at my side. It was almost comforting; like having somepony else with me. I laughed at myself. “Celestia, I’m pathetic.” Perhaps things would look better in the morning. Things did not look better in the morning. I groaned as my head throbbed, a reminder of my poor choices the evening before. Everything felt out of focus and fuzzy, and my magic was sluggish as I rolled out of bed and tapped my hooves on the wood floor, wincing as the sound echoed a bit too loudly through the house. “Sweet Celestia, never again,” I swore to myself as I entered the den and shuffled through the mess. I busied myself with tidying up the papers for a moment before the ache in my head intensified and I gave up, trotting slowly into the kitchen and sitting down at the table. I searched with my magic for a glass, found one, and levitated it to the sink and filled it with water. I brought the glass to my lips and took a cautious sip, wincing as it hit my soured stomach like a drop of acid. I fought the urge to vomit for a moment and took a larger drink of water, grimacing. An overly-loud knocking blared through the house, emanating from the front door. I set my glass of water down and shuffled over to the door, flinging it open just as the harsh hammering began again. “Would you please stop knocking so loud?” “Sorry, mister! I’ve got your mail!” chirped a familiarly bubbly, high-pitched voice at a wildly inappropriate volume. It was the mailmare, unfortunately on time. I winced and took a small step back, scowling as my head throbbed. “Could you possibly talk any louder?” There was a brief moment of blessed silence, followed by a deep inhalation. Horror swept over me just moments before the mailmare hollered at the top of her lungs, “Probably? Yeah, I think this is way louder! What do you think, mister?” I shook my head to clear my ringing ears, my jaw hanging open, before I snorted in exasperation. “Sweet Celestia, you’re thick.” “Well, I dunno, I guess I’ve been eating a lot of muffins lately...” I’d had enough of this mare. “I mean you’re stupid, and obnoxious, and oblivious. Give me my mail and leave me alone.” The mailmare recoiled slightly, before she spun to search through her bag, fumbling inside it for my mail. I waited, impatiently tapping my hoof. A few quiet sobs crossed the space between us, and I winced as her fumbling increased, letters spilling out onto the ground. I sighed and stepped forward, crouching down next to the quietly crying mare, and gathered up the spilled letters. She stopped moving, her shoulders shaking. I offered her the dropped letters in a neat bundle, my magic levitating them out to her. “I’m sorry.” She sniffled, wiped a hoof across her muzzle, and delicately took the stack of letters in her mouth, tucking them away into the bag. She pulled out a few envelopes after another moment of fumbling and offered them to me. “Thank you,” I said quietly. We stood there in silence for a moment, before she stepped away, her wings opening up. “Wait.” She paused. “What’s your name?” “D-derpy Hooves.” “Thank you for delivering my mail, Derpy. I’m sorry I said what I did. I had a bad night,” I said, casting a hesitant smile her way. Derpy was quiet for a moment, before she suddenly stepped up to me and gave me a hug. I froze, slightly stunned. She released me from the embrace, giggling happily. “Anypony that had a bad night deserves a hug!” I laughed awkwardly, unsure of what to say. “Thank you.” “Have a better day, Mister!” With that, the mailmare flew away, leaving me with a vaguely warm feeling. I smiled to myself and took my mail inside, shutting the door behind me as I entered. I took a few light steps into my study before I almost slipped on the mess of papers and detritus that I had left lying in heaps the night previous. My smile slowly turned to a scowl, and I tossed the letters on my desk and slumped down in my chair, holding my head in my hooves. I’d been such an ass to Derpy. It was obviously habit. First Rarity, now the mailmare. I hurt ponies, and I didn’t deserve to be forgiven so easily. I tapped a hoof against the stack of letters,considering opening them, but decided to leave them be. Standing, I moved back into the kitchen, towards the refrigerator. The cider was still there. I had enough time in the day to drown myself again. The jacket that I’d thrown over the back of the chair brushed against my mane as I passed by. I paused, reaching out and running a hoof along the lapel. I stood in quiet contemplation for a moment. What to do? I sighed and picked up the jacket carefully. I’d go to the library and give the jacket to Twilight. She seemed nice enough. I’m sure she’d be okay with returning it for me. I didn’t want to burden Rarity with another appearance so soon after the previous afternoon’s fiasco. I went to a nearby cabinet and opened it, using my magic to grab a few pills from a cabinet to counteract my headache. I took the tablets with another glass of water, scowling as my stomach rumbled in protest. I folded the jacket over my flank and trotted to the front door. I pulled it open and trotted out into the day, a swift flick of my magic shutting the door behind me as I left. I made my way slowly to the library. I had gotten lost twice and had to ask for directions before I finally arrived. I frowned at the odd building, noting the branches and leaves. A library in a tree? There was something ironic about that, but I was feeling too awful to really give it much thought. I pushed open the front entrance and halted in the doorway, inhaling the scent of musty paper and parchments, along with the subtle fragrance of lilac. Rows of well organized bookshelves spread through the room, and a staircase led to a second story. I took a few steps inside, closing the door behind me. I turned to the nearer wall and was surprised by a desk, piled high with books, and a familiar straight-maned unicorn seated behind it, smiling awkwardly at me. “Er, hello, Lower Case!” I suppose I shouldn’t have been surprised, since this was where she worked. My mind had been elsewhere, though. “Hello, Twilight,” I said, mustering a small smile in return. “What brings you to the library? I mean, not that there’s anything strange with you coming here, since it’s a public library! Anypony can come right on in… whenever they like! That’s, uh, what the ‘public’ part of public library means…” Her hooves tapped nervously on the desk, fumbling for a book. She was acting a bit flighty, but I figured that it was because Rarity had recounted our disastrous date to her. I sighed, my ears flattening slightly, and levitated the jacket off of my back, setting it on the desk between us. “I’m just here to drop this off. I borrowed it from Rarity the other day, and I’d appreciate it if you could give it back to her for me.” “Um, of course I could. No trouble at all!” Twilight said, looking down at the jacket and running a hoof along the collar, absentmindedly straightening the seam. I nodded to her and turned a slow circle, examining the architecture of the odd structure. “This library is pretty impressive, especially for a small town.” “Thank you. I try really hard to keep it well maintained, and I reshelve and reorganize on a weekly basis. Well, actually, Spike does most of it...” Twilight said with a small giggle. “It shows. This place has a lot of…” love, I almost said, but I quickly chased the word out of my mind, “...care put into it.” “Well, I do what I can.” I nodded. “Maybe I’ll come back another day for a proper visit.” She smiled at me. “That’d be great!” I turned around to face her again, and she glanced up from the jacket at me. I swallowed. “Thanks for all the help you gave me the other day. I’ll see you around, Twilight.” I made for the door, intent on running home to hide, but Twilight called out before I could escape. “Wait, Mister Case!” I paused, one hoof on the door handle. “What do you want?” Twilight scuffed a hoof on the desk for a moment, nervously, before she spoke. “I… I wanted to know what happened the other day. At the date.” I jerked, surprised, and turned to face her, trying to keep my face impassive. “I’m sure you’ve heard about it from Rarity.” Twilight turned away from me, looking away to the opposite wall. “Yes, I have. I’d like to hear about it from you, too.” I snorted. “Why?” She looked down at the jacket in front of her. “I don’t mean to pry, but… I think that I’d like to hear what happened from your point of view.” I laughed bitterly. “Do you think that’s funny?” Her head jerked up to face me and her ears flattened back. “What? No, of course not! I’m just really worried and I want to hear what happened!” I turned away from her, considering walking away right then and there, but something in her tone caused me to hesitate. Perhaps she was sincere. I faced the younger unicorn mare, frowning. “I screwed up, Twilight.” Twilight remained quiet, and I took her silence as an offer to continue. “I tried to be somepony that I’m not. I forgot who I am, because I thought I could be the dashing gentlecolt for Miss Rarity. I lied about things that I should have been up-front about and things fell apart, just like they always do.” I took a step forward, knowing that I should probably just shut up and leave, but the floodgates had been opened. “I’m a fake, Twilight. A liar. I’m no gentlecolt. I’m a hack writer that got lucky with a mediocre story or two that happened to get published at the right moment. I’m a slob that can barely take care of himself, living in the dark to hide the pathetic truth of my existence.” I had my front hooves on the desk, and I was leaning forward. I think I was shouting. I was certain that I was crying again. “I’m worthless, and when everything fell apart, Rarity ran. Just like she should have. Just like I deserved. Because all I am, all I will ever be, is a fake. She deserves better, Twilight! And I should just be alone, because that’s what I have to look forward to.” Twilight was leaning away from me as I towered over the desk, my breathing hard and my legs trembling. I exhaled a slow, shaking sigh, and moved towards the door. “I’m sorry. I need to…I need to go.” I turned away from her, away from her sympathy, and left the library, slamming the door on my way out. I’d apologize later, but I couldn’t let anypony, let alone Twilight, see me at my lowest. I stumbled my way home, cursing my inept sense of direction. I needed to lock myself in my house for another day or two. There was more hard cider in that bottle in the fridge, I was sure of it, and I intended to discover exactly how much. I reached my house, eyes on the uneven road ahead of me, and threw open the gate, and slammed it closed behind me. Back behind the walls of my castle, once more. Safe from the world. The only monster in here was me. “Lower Case?” said a voice behind me. I froze in place. I lifted my head slowly, noticing the scent of lilac that filled my front yard. How had I missed…? “Rarity?” I breathed, taken completely off guard. What was she…? “You… you’re an idiot,” she said, almost sounding bitter. I winced. That wasn’t a tone that a beautiful voice like hers should ever have. She spoke again when I didn’t reply. “I was there. In the library. I was in the kitchen, hiding, because I couldn’t bare to face you after what I’d done.” “You were there? So you heard… wait…” I turned to her, confusion writ large across my face. “What you’ve done? Rarity, I was the one that lied.” “You think that’s why I ran away? You… you think that I was upset because you concealed something from me?” Rarity said. “O—of course! I lied! You had every right to be upset!” I retorted, standing up. “Every right to—?” She yelped, before she suddenly laughed and sat down heavily, her hooves covering her face. “No, Lower Case, you are very, terribly mistaken.” “I—what?” I sputtered. What was she talking about? “When I hit your horn, Lower Case, and I… saw you… I ran away because I was ashamed.” That didn’t make any sense. “What?” Rarity laughed between hiccuping breaths. She was crying? “I should have seen it, Lower Case. I’m a pony that prides herself on being able to read other ponies, to know their needs. Navigating through any social situation is a talent of mine, among many things. You’d given me so many signs, and yet I kept making blunders, getting upset with you over the silliest of things.” “But… I thought that I had been the one making the mistakes. Slipping up. I missed so many things that I should have caught if I had been more aware,” I said, almost to myself. “You can hardly blame yourself for that!” “But it was my fault!” I protested, stamping a hoof on the floor. “If it was anypony’s fault, Mister Case, it was mine. I committed the largest faux pas of all! Running away, leaving you alone? It was rude and improper and cowardly! I thought that I had ruined everything because I had been a shallow, stupid mare.” I hesitated briefly, considering the implications of her words with a small wince. Leaving me along was cowardly? There was only one reason she’d think that, and it meant that she’d paid closer attention to what had happened to me the other night. I powered through the sinking feeling in my gut and replied, “I was the one ruining the date, Rarity. I acted inappropriately, I didn’t notice your mane, and I insulted your friend. I was the one that lied about who I am.” We both went quiet. It was obvious that this argument was getting us nowhere, and the ponies crossing the street nearby were starting to stare, so I gestured to my front door. “Maybe we can talk inside? I’m afraid my house is not fit for company, but my entryway is clean and relatively empty.” She nodded her assent and we stepped inside the house. I closed the door, and as an afterthought reached out and tapped a crystal lamp, brightening the entryway. Rarity and I stood awkwardly across from each other, the silence stretching uncomfortably. Finally, Rarity spoke. “Lower Case… why didn’t you just tell me?” “Because I didn’t think you’d accept me.” “Did you think I was so shallow?” Rarity questioned, no accusation in her tone. “No, of course not… I’ve just…” I hesitated, wondering how to express the pain I’d experienced in my life. I decided that brevity was the best choice. “I’ve lost so much because of who I am. When I met you, I was scared. I wanted things to be different. When you saw me for who I was, and you ran away… I thought that I had screwed everything up.” “When I ran away, I thought that I was the one at fault. Instead of facing you, I left. Can you forgive me?” Rarity said, leaning forward intently. “Only if you can forgive me for hiding the truth,” I said quietly. Rarity reached out again, and I shyed away, but she firmly placed her hoof on my chest. I found myself drawn to her, looking up and facing her fully. “Show me. I promise I won’t run away again.” “I… I’m not…” I stammered, but she shook her head, silencing me. “There is nothing to be ashamed of.” I exhaled shakily, and I finally did it. I dropped my focus. The nearly invisible warmth of my aura, ever-present as it maintained subtle spells of illusion, of enhancements to my senses, faded, leaving me in darkness, exposed. I could hear Rarity’s breath catch in her throat. She stayed quiet. Rarity’s hoof on my chest was a comforting weight. I could feel her close by. I could imagine her expression of… what? How did she feel? I smiled hesitantly. “So?” “I’ll be honest. Your eyes being completely white is a little startling, but…” Rarity paused. “But?” I asked, my insides twisting. Rarity continued. “It makes you seem… mysterious.” “I believe you’re confusing ‘mysterious’ with ‘completely blind,’” I said, smirking shakily. “You can mask your casting aura?” Rarity asked, changing the subject. “Yes. One of the first things I learned how to do,” I replied. “Very impressive.” “I don’t think so. It’s just all a part of the illusion. All a part of the lie,” I said, sitting down heavily. The entryway felt bigger without my aura present, without the sensory input I’d grown to rely on. Rarity’s hoof on my chest felt like an anchor, grounding me and giving me a point of reference in the otherwise barren void. “I can’t blame you. You don’t want anypony to treat you differently,” said Rarity. I laughed, perhaps too harshly. “I’m already treated differently, Miss Rarity. I’m an author.” “Why should that matter?” she asked. “Because I’m a published author. I write Daring Do.” I felt Rarity shift back from me slightly, and the hoof resting on my chest moved away, leaving me far more alone than she probably intended. The silence stretched for a moment in the darkness, and I sighed just to fill the empty space with something other than the omnipresent nothing. I could feel her shifting awkwardly, trying to find words. “Y-you? You’re the author of Daring Do? Why—I don’t know what to say! That’s marvelous!” I cringed. “Thank you.” “I’ve only read a few of your books, but I have a good friend that simply adores them! And you, a stallion, writing a mare protagonist! I always assumed you were, well, also a mare. You take such great care in making her a relatable and believable character, and such an excellent role model for young fillies!” I sighed. “You see my issue, now?” “Whatever do you mean?” she asked, obviously taken aback. “I keep who I am a secret to avoid... what you just did. I don’t want to be the famous author. I don’t want you to be starstruck.” Rarity’s hooves shuffled awkwardly for a moment, before she settled, perhaps sitting. “Oh, Goddesses, I’m sorry, Mister Case. I just… you have to excuse me, I promise I’ll get over this, I may just need a moment.” I waited quietly as she composed herself, and she finally spoke up. “I do believe that I understand why you’d rather avoid this kind of attention.” Nodding, I spoke quietly. “I want to be more than the pony writing Daring Do. I want to be more than just… what I am. I don’t want pity.” “If you are the author of Daring Do, though, then you are extremely successful. Why would you be pitied?” asked Rarity. “Because it’d ruin what everyone believes. I wouldn’t ever just be an author, I’d be… special. The ponies would say ‘You’re such an inspiration! You’re a writer, despite your condition. You’re so brave.’” “Ah…” Rarity replied, and I could sense her nod. “You don’t want the fame, or the pity, or anything.” I nodded. “I’d give anything to be… normal. I write the books to pay the bills, but I stopped believing in my writing a long time ago. Manehattan had nothing for me. I came here to try to get back my spark, find my story, and write something that I could be proud of. Instead, I found you, Miss Rarity.” Rarity was silent, but I could feel by the way her hooves shifted against the floor that she was embarrassed. “I’m sorry for not telling you the truth,” I said. “I’m sorry for running,” Rarity replied. We sat quietly for a few moments before Rarity spoke up. “You don’t have to hide from me, Lower Case, or from the rest of Ponyville. The ponies here are kind and understanding. I don’t mind if you want to keep the fact that you are a famous author to yourself, but… you have nothing to be ashamed about. Our own famous DJ, Vinyl Scratch, lives here, and she’s deaf.” “I know. I actually was inspired by how she uses her magic to ‘feel’ sound. I’ve just taken it to a new level. I can almost ‘see’ with sonic pulses emitted by my magic, and hearing enhancement spells. No color, of course, and subtle things often slip by me as well.” “Things like my mane,” Rarity said with a small giggle. “Exactly,” I replied, feeling a small smile cross my face. “Of course, I don’t have to see the color of your mane to know how… how beautiful you are.” Rarity laughed, and she batted a hoof against my shoulder playfully. “Oh, stop.” I chuckled, feeling a weight lift from my chest. Maybe, just maybe, things were going to be all right. I activated my magic again, and the world swam back into being around me. Somewhat indistinct, but there again. Rarity was close enough that I could almost ‘see’ the fur on her coat, though that was probably more of my imagination. I spoke up. “So… what now?” “I believe,” Rarity said, “that we write off yesterday as a series of unfortunate events.” “That’s good,” I said, “because I was going to call it an unmitigated disaster.” Rarity giggled. “Be that as it may, I believe that the only thing to do is to try again, and this time everything will be out in the open. No more hiding. No more shame.” I winced slightly. “I... I think I can try that.” “You’re not just going to try, Mister Case. You’re going to do it.” Rarity smiled and leaned in close to me. “You’re going to do it for me.” I nodded slowly, dumbly, as her closeness and the scent of lilac nearly overwhelmed my senses. “Miss Rarity… I think, at this point, I might do just about anything for you. Second chances are precious, especially coming from a mare like yourself.” Rarity giggled, leaning away. “You’d do anything, hm?” “Just about.” “Fine. Then come with me to my boutique. My little sister is there, and I’d like you to meet her,” Rarity said, her smile growing a little too big. I chuckled. “I suppose that I’d be willing to do that. If she’s anything like you, I’m sure she’s a delightful young filly.” Rarity had no response to that. She simply opened the door, a prance in her step, and beckoned me back into the warmth of the day. I followed gladly.