Polishing Silver

by Silver-Tongue

Stained Silver

Silver Spoon stares at the plate. It was a nice plate, all things considered. A blue floral pattern ran along the rim, leaves coiling off snake-like vines and the flower petals wispy and thin. A cow’s head was etched between every third flower, the horns long and pointy. Small chips pocketed the surface, but were painstakingly back glued together, the white porcelain concealing the damage well. It was an old plate, probably older than Silver Spoon, but somepony clearly had loved it dearly.
Silver Spoon gulps. The laughter and babble of fillies and colts outside does nothing to sooth the gray filly’s spirit. Brushing a strand of silver hair from her blue-rimmed glasses, Silver Spoon nudges the plate gently. It went tinkle.
A long fracture ran through the plate, breaking in the center into two more lines in a rough Y-shape. The plate was in three large pieces with smaller, new chips scattered across the once-pristine tile floor. By the refrigerator, in the corners, under the stove; cruelly sharp, slivery shards dotted the kitchen chaotically, waiting to cut and prick somepony to stain the floor with their blood.
Silver Spoon turns to her left, and finds herself wanting. The cotton blue seat pillow is still warm, the deep imprint of its last, rotund occupant fresh. Silver Spoon sighs, long and wearily. Was it asking too much to have company for once, when she messed up? It is so cold this down deep, and it would be a comfort in wretchedness to have a companion in woe.
A voice calls out from the other room. “Darlings, what was that noise? I’m positive I heard something.” The sound of hooves trotting comes nearby, and Silver Spoon turns slowly in her seat to the kitchen entrance as if weighted down with frosty chains. The shutter doors open with a snap and the glow of cerulean magic.
A unicorn of the fairest breed steps into the room. Her mane curled perfectly into a bouffant and purple as tulips with a tail to match, the mare’s complexion is outshined only by Princess Celestia herself. The mare lifts her legs and head high, steps fluid and graceful as only a lady can be. Her diamond blue eyes speak of confidence and ambition, while her fluttery eyelashes hum coquettish melodies. Silver Spoon looks at her hooves, and briefly wonders why her face is so warm. She knows that she could never be as beautiful as this unicorn, and never would be.
Some house guest she is. Its not every day Ponyville's premier fashionista invites children, fillies like them, to tea. Something about correcting past wrongs for a brighter future, Silver Spoon couldn't quite remember.
Head bowed, Silver Spoon mumbles as the unicorn approaches the table. The unicorn blinks, left ear twitches.
“Pardon me. Please speak up, dear, you’re mumbling,” says the unicorn, as politely as possible. Silver Spoon sighs, glancing up at the unicorn for a moment. Her cup is still full, her tea cooling rapidly. Earl Gray. Her favorite.
Hoof to throat, she clears her throat. “Miss Rarity, there was an–” She pauses, forcing her tongue to work. “An accident.”
“An accident? What happened? Did any pony get hur–” Rarity starts, when a sharp crunch echoes in the kitchen. The unicorn looks down at her right forehoof as Silver Spoon winces. Slowly, Rarity lifts her hoof from the floor.
A porcelain shard sits in her hoof, broken in two. A speckle of a blue bull’s horn. Rarity’s brow furrows. “What in Equestria?”
Silver Spoon’s hoof points down. Rarity looks, then stares. Her perfectly curved jaw drops, gasping.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry,” Silver Spoon says, pink eyes hopeful and desperate. Big blue eyes fall across the tile, absorbing the wreckage. A lower eyelid begins to twitch.
“It was my fault! Me and Diamond were talking, and you were off ‘powdering your nose,’ when Diamond realized she had homework due, and I got hungry and reached for the scones, but I’m not a unicorn so I stretched on the table, and and and I’m so so sorry Miss Rarity!”
The biscottis were missing, and Silver Spoon’s stomach quietly ached. Fear dripped from her brow. Diamond had left in a hurry, but not too much in a hurry.
Rarity’s lip quivers. “This plate was my Grandmother’s. The last of the set.” Silver Spoon bites her lip as tears form in the corners of her eyes. She lowers her head to Rarity, unable to look the perfect unicorn in the eye.
“I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry.”
The tick of the clock clangs in Silver’s ears, slicing time and her nerves. The laughter of dark shadowy foals at play mocks her. The kitchen is cold, so cold, it has become winter and Silver Spoon is frozen solid at the bottom of an icy lake. She wonders why there’s Miss Rarity hasn’t started yelling yet.
The gray filly looks up.
Rarity looks down on the small filly, her brow furrowed. She looks between Silver Spoon, and the broken plate as a miniature wages behind those glamorous, long-lashed eyes. A tongue licks those dainty lips thoughtfully.
“Well, I suppose I cannot be rightly upset if it was an accident,” Rarity says at last, with a tired sigh. “Are you hurt anywhere?”
She shakes her head unsteadily. A small smile graces the unicorn’s lips.
“Good. Now, let us take care of this mishap, shall we?” Horn glowing, Rarity levitates a broom and dustpan from a nearby closet. She holds the dustpan out to Silver Spoon, who blinks. She puts a gray hoof over her chest.
“R-really?” She stutters. “Just like that? Y-you forgive me, j-just like that?”
Another small smile.
“Everypony makes mistakes, darling, children especially. They put less thought into their actions, never sure how they will affect everypony around them. So they learn to think ahead and care how others think and feel.” Rarity coughs, dust coming off the broom. “Some sooner than others.”
“O-oh. Okay.” Silver Spoon says, holding the dust pan. She looks back up to Rarity, frowning slightly. “Are we still talking about the plate?”
Rarity chuckles. The only sound in the room is the sweep of the broom.