//------------------------------// // Chapter 3 // Story: The Prince of Dust // by redsquirrel456 //------------------------------// Rarity always woke up with a plan. Even if she hadn’t made one the night before, she knew from the moment her eyes opened that she would accomplish something. A goal, an objective, a wonderful feeling of making a tiny difference in a big world, waited just around every corner. She just had to get out of bed and take one step after the other until she reached it, and the plan would become clear after she had completed it. When she pushed away the covers, protected from the chill by her cozy bathrobe, she felt the familiar buzz of opportunity whispering in her ear. When she stepped on the cold floorboards and swept gracefully into the bathroom, she heard the clarion call of chance waiting just outside the door. Chance and opportunity, when combined in the proper way, could be molded into purpose. Every stroke of her mane as she combed life back into its curls, every dab of perfume and makeup on her cheeks, was one more little nudge she gave to the path of her life to make it more straight and orderly. That was how she made success out of nothing but a bundle of cloth and a pile of mannequins. That was, no doubt, how earth ponies forced the earth to bow down as they mastered it. She stepped into the hall to practice her saunter before she got down to breakfast, perfecting it when she reached the bottom of the stairs to give her hips just the right amount of roll as she walked. Not too sultry, not too plain. When she saw the ponies at the breakfast table look up from their meals and pause as one to watch her, she knew the world was ready to bend to her whim. “Good morning!” she sang. “Oh my, whatever’s on the pot smells simply divine!” “Mornin’ miss Rarity,” rumbled Coldcock from the table. “We got flapjacks an’ orange juice, an’ plenty of hay patties to get you goin’.” Apple Tart trotted up to her and leaned in to whisper. “An’ before you ask, Braeburn ain’t left yet. He’s just makin’ the mornin’ rounds.” Rarity nodded thankfully. “You said there were… flapjacks?” “Aplenty,” answered Coldcock. “Since harvest season’s come up we’re gettin’ enough breakfast to fill a barrel.” “We’ll need it,” another mare twanged. “Deliveries are up an’ stocks are down. We gotta keep up with the demand or we’ll drop right off the map.” “Not accordin’ to Braeburn,” said Coldcock, stuffing a mouthful of flapjacks dripping with syrup into his mouth. “They’re thinkin’ about them investors from Manehattan—” “Fiddlesticks on those ponies!” a young mare with a white mane and strikingly blue eyes replied, smacking the table with her hoof. “We get by with apples an’ with apples we’ll stay.” Rarity collected her own plate, listening in. “Let’s not all get our manes in knots before breakfast is even over,” another mare, older than Rarity, said as she took her place at the table. “We don’t know nothin’ about what’ll happen once the town comes to a decision. Either way, it’s all apples that ain’t been bucked.” “You can’t just not talk about it an’ expect there to be no problem!” the younger mare shot back. “That’s all any of the townsfolk are doin’, just a whole bunch of talkin’ an’ there’s nothin’ any of us can say that’ll change anypony’s mind. We got that business rep or whoever comin’ by next week lookin' to see what he can make out of our town. That bootlick’ll probably suggest we get turned into a shopping mall or somethin’.” “This talk ain’t proper in front of a guest,” Coldcock rumbled, gesturing at Rarity as she sat down. “Let’s all be civil now, Cane Sugar.” By pure dint of needing something else to talk about, most of the table turned Rarity’s way. Coldcock had put the spotlight on her, but that was right where she liked to be. She put on her brightest smile and introduced herself to those ponies she hadn’t met yet, and made the ones she had happy by remembering them. Only when the conversation had gone on for a little while did she dare breach the prickly subject of the town’s future again. “It does sound like you’ve all had such troubles on your minds recently. I can only hope that I can help alleviate some of it.” “Folk did see you in the fields yesterday,” Coldcock said with a slow nod, and Rarity favored him with a smile. It was nice to know some ponies would actively support her in front of their friends. “Good ponies with generous attitudes are just what this town needs right now.” “What we need is a pony who can take charge,” Cane Sugar mumbled as she dug at her oatmeal. “Cane,” Coldcock warned her, but the young mare looked up, her brazen blue eyes bright and aware. They reminded Rarity of Rainbow Dash. “No, I’m sick of ponies just sittin’ around hemmin’ an’ hawin’! We gotta do somethin’. There’s ponies from the big cities comin’ soon an’ what’s been goin’ on? A whole lot of arguin’ an’ a bunch more nothin’, that’s what!” “Ahh, here we go,” said Apple Tart. She’d claimed the empty seat next to Rarity, rolling her eyes as Cane Sugar leapt into an impassioned tirade. “Just let her talk, she’ll tire herself out soon enough,” Apple Tart whispered. “Does this happen often?” Rarity whispered back. “Durn near every day now. Tempers are startin’ to run high. Ponies aren’t sure what to do.” Cane Sugar ranted about there being ponies who had more money than they knew what to do with, ponies who had their heads in the clouds almost as much as pegasi and only saw their town as a dot on a map that could be erased and redrawn at will. This was the conflict that lay behind everything, and like Canterlot residing on its distant mountain, Rarity revolved around it and Braeburn from a distance. What her friend was suffering wouldn’t be solved by talking to a few key ponies or reading a book of spells. She knew when battles could be lost and won, and how to give a little and take a little as appropriate. Back in the big cities, even back in Ponyville, knowing exactly when to bow out and when to barge in were key skills. Going straight to the top would not help Braeburn or Appleloosa. No, to conquer this tower, she’d have to sneak in through one of the side windows. Just like Sir Heart Quiver when he climbed the Tower of Peril to rescue Dame Glitterhoof. And then through trickery and subterfuge he’d bypassed the deadliest traps and completely flabbergasted the most powerful guardians, and the rendezvous he had with Glitterhoof in her chambers was one for the history books. Or at least Rarity’s Secret Bookshelf, Celestia forbid Sweetie Belle ever lay eyes on it… “Apple Tart,” she said out of the corner of her mouth as she watched Cane Sugar continue to make a scene of herself, “I’m going to need some directions when we’re through sorting, after the morning shift.” “Oh?” the mare replied. “Got somewhere to go, do ya?” “One place in particular,” Rarity murmured. “I think I have an idea.” ---------- She found Braeburn just coming back from sending the apple counters on their daily routine. When she told him her intentions, he told her in no uncertain terms that it was a bad idea. And yet here he was, escorting her to Bona Fide’s house and only giving token verbal resistance. Rarity took note of how he walked beside her, keeping pace instead of leading. The poor dear must really have been starved for a friendly face in this town. “Bonny’s a good mare, really,” he said, “just a little antisocial is all. She’s not one for house calls ‘cept for ponies she knows well.” Rarity smiled. “Which is why I’ve asked you to come along. At least this way you can put your weight behind something that may go a long way towards helping this town get back on its hooves.” Braeburn tossed his head back and let out an explosive sigh. “I just don’t see what more talkin’ is gonna do.” Rarity raised her brows. “There is talking and then there is merely exchanging words. I am an expert in talking.” Bona Fide’s house was remarkably humble for a pony of her stature. The way Apple Tart sputtered and fidgeted when Rarity told her it was this very structure she sought, a picture had been painted in her mind of some vast, imposing edifice that looked down on all passers-by, mercilessly taunting them with accusations of never being good enough, forcing them to bow their heads to avoid the gaping stares of stained-glass windows. Instead, what she found was a regular farm house just like any other near the edge of town. It was like Applejack’s farm in miniature, with a private orchard and a small stable and chicken coop blooming off the side of the house. A couple of pigs looked up at her and wagged their tails, expecting to be fed, but they passed them by. Besides the dust invading her mane and the animals roaming freely, the place was almost spotlessly clean. The wood on the porch was smooth and new, and the door was painted a fresh forest green. Braeburn knocked on it three times. Rarity heard muffled voices from within, but couldn’t distinguish one from the other. When the door opened, a colt peered at them from the other side. He was teenaged, stuck somewhere between Rainbow Dash and Thunderlane’s brother Rumble. His brown eyes were as seasoned as the former, but his body still clinging to some of the latter’s baby fat, giving him a boyish roundness that looked strange on the hard-nosed glare he gave her. A coat of bronze and a messy mane of orange and red made him look like a bed of autumn leaves. A gate either half shut or half open was his cutie mark. Rarity thought Sweetie Belle might fancy him if she were but a few years older. “Braeburn?” the colt asked, and immediately his taciturn gaze brightened. “What’re you doin’ here?” Even though he was clearly happy to see the older stallion, there was gravel in his voice and a weatherbeaten look in his eyes that surprised Rarity. Braeburn was all smiles. “Mornin’ there, Rusty Hinges. Sorry, no time to talk. I got a visitor for your sister to meet.” The colt glared at Rarity. “Hey,” he muttered. “You’re that new girl, aint’cha?” “I am, young sir,” she said, stuttering through her introduction. She’d had words prepared in her head, but not for anypony but Bona Fide. She should have asked whether the mare lived alone or not. “My name is Rarity, and I am visiting from out of town. I was here to speak to Bona Fide. Might you give me the pleasure of—” “HEY BONNY!” the colt shouted over his shoulder. “What?!” came the screeching reply. “Braeburn’s here ta’ see you with some mare!” “She ain’t just some mare, Rusty,” Braeburn said in that longsuffering tone of an oft-ignored lecturer. “Her name’s Rarity.” Rusty seemed about to answer when he heard Bonny shout from within the house. “What’d you say Rusty?!” “I said Braeburn’s here with some mare called Rarity!” “What?!” “I said Braeburn’s—” “I heard whatcha said, I’m comin’!” Heavy hooffalls on the stairs echoed like the sound of impending doom. Rarity forced herself not to cringe. Bona Fide swept into view, tossing back her mane. Rarity couldn’t help but notice that she’d used conditioner to give her coiffure a lustrous sheen. Hard working, cynical, proud, kept herself looking good even when nopony was around to see. Rarity saw all these things in the way she walked, the way her eyes were always narrowed and squinting. But all that stopped when she realized just who was at the door. Her eyes widened just a fraction, and she missed half a step on the way over. Rarity surprised her. That was good. Surprised could easily be turned into impressed, which was just a skip away from awe. “Rusty,” she said, in a voice that was the exact opposite of the warmth that Twilight used with Spike, “g’wan an’ get some chores done.” “But I already—oh, fine, I’m goin’,” the young colt said, wilting under the older mare’s glare and scampering out the door. Rarity kept her eyes on Bonny, whose eyes wouldn’t stay still. They darted up and down in their sockets, sizing her up. Rarity felt like she was in an arena staring down a violent opponent, counting down the last precious seconds they had before a vicious hoof-to-hoof melee. In that way, it was almost exactly like meeting one of the knife-tongued mares of Manehatten or Canterlot, which made her feel right at home. “Bonny,” said Braeburn in a voice one would use to calm an angry dog, “this here’s miss Rarity. I brought her over to meet you.” “Was that your brother?” Rarity asked with a bright smile, more for her own benefit than Bonny’s. Bonny sneered, weighing the merits of answering. “Yeah, that’s Rusty Hinges,” she huffed. “He’s a good kid,” she added in a tone that was less fond and more obligated. “He sounds like it.” “What’s she doin’ here Braeburn?” Bonny snapped. “Well, I came here to let her explain that,” Braeburn said without missing a beat. Bonny’s face was twisted into an ugly scowl that Rarity didn’t think she’d wear around Braeburn, but Braeburn was as placid as Ponyville’s lake on a windless day. “An’ it’d behoove ya to be a little more neighborly, Bonny. I know as well as you do that Appleloosa’s goin’ through some tough times, but—” “No,” Bonny’s voice cracked sharp as a whip. “Don’t you use that patronizin’ tone of voice with me, Braeburn! I stood up for you at the last town meeting an’ I’ve done just as much for this town as you. So don’t go actin’ like you…” She trailed off and her eyes roved back to Rarity. Immediately, her tirade ended. There’s more to all of this than I imagined, isn’t there? And more to you, thought Rarity. None of your business, Bonny’s hard gaze replied. The silence drew on as Braeburn mulled over the sharp change in mood. “Let her speak ‘er piece, Bonny.” When no objections came, Rarity raised her chin and assumed an officious stance. “I’m here to help your town, miss.” “No you ain’t,” Bonny grunted. “An’ you’re not gonna convince me otherwise. I know your type.” “Bonny,” said Braeburn in that iron velvet voice she’d used on him last night, “You don’t know this mare. None of us do. I’m willin’ to trust her. After everythin’ that’s happened, I think we shouldn’t be so willing to turn down a helpin’ hoof.” “She’s just all talk, Brae, listen to her! With her high-falootin’ Canterlot accent an’—” “Fillydelphia, actually,” said Rarity. Bonny blinked owlishly. “Say what?” “Fillydelphia,” Rarity answered, her voice wistful and quiet. “My family grew up around the farms there before I moved to Ponyville. I got my accent there, going to all these...” She grinned all of a sudden without knowing why, letting out a short breathy chuckle. “These meetings my father attended. He was a hoofball coach you know, and often met with high class parents sending their children to athletic programs. I started learning from them.” Bonny just stared at her like she’d grown a second head. “I… well, whatever,” she grumbled. “I don’t even—what are you doin’ here?” Rarity did not flinch. “They say actions speak louder than words, and you are obviously a mare who does not waste time, so I will cut to the chase. I am here to do whatever is required of me, and I will do what you ask to keep this town afloat.” Bonny raised an eyebrow and looked to be on the verge of smiling. Somehow it made her look even more unfriendly. “You wanna be one of our farmhooves? Thought I already saw you workin’ the apple sortin’ line.” “The difference between a pony who serves and a pony who works is intent. My intent is to be generous.” Bonny rolled her eyes. “We already got lots of good ponies workin’ hard for this town. Like me.” Rarity narrowed her eyes just so, pinpointing all the things that bothered Bonny and won her good favor, trying to get to the core of this stubborn mare. “But it’s because you know them. You know they’ve lived here, loved here, and wouldn’t know what to do if it wasn’t their town anymore. I want to show you what an outsider can do.” Bonny scoffed and looked away. Rarity, taking it as a moment of indecision, let her think. “So why’re you comin’ to tell me?” “For much the same reason you made it a point to make me feel unwelcome.” Bonny’s face scrunched like she’d bitten a lemon. Braeburn looked between the two mares, thoroughly bewildered. Rarity knew what that was like; she’d felt the same when she was still young and looking in on adult conversations. At last, Bonny sighed and shook her head. “Look, I ain’t unreasonable,” she said. “But I know your type. You’ve come around often enough.” Her eyes flicked nervously towards Braeburn. “I remember when ya’ll came durin’ that scrape with the buffalo. Darn near got our town flattened with your hootin’ an’ hollerin’ an’ what-have-you. We did just fine on our own then, an’ we will now.” “But you’re floundering. I can see it. I can hear it.” “Of course you do, don’t you?!” Bonny snapped, making Rarity and Braeburn take a step back. “That’s what ponies like you do. They come in an’ they mix an’ mingle an’ taunt an’ tease an’ there’s just no end to it!” She stomped and snorted, pacing over the porch. “As if we don’t got enough trouble with that business rep comin’ next week.” “Who might that be?” Rarity asked, drawing an evil eye from Bonny. “I remember hearing the word representative at breakfast, but—” “Oh, don’t you know?” Bonny sneered, swishing her tail. “I thought you were so well connected with ponies in this town.” Her eyes flicked towards Braeburn, who stood there with a befuddled, vulnerable expression. “Go ask them.”  In that instant when her eyes locked onto the stallion, Rarity felt something spike in her chest, hot and furious. Understanding? Protectiveness? Jealousy, if she stoop so low? Careful now. Deep breaths. Rarity steeled herself, hoping Bonny was as tough as she looked. She took in the strange tempest of emotion and let it flow out as a gentle wind, and a curt voice that said, “I am asking you.” Bonny’s eyes widened and she lifted her chin, as if greatly offended by the mere notion. But she spoke through gritted teeth regardless. “He’s from the Rich’s family business. Thinkin’ of settin’ up shop out here, if you can imagine that. Him an’ some others, I figured you knew. If anything, it’ll just make things worse.” “Then perhaps I shall take the opportunity to talk to him.” “Didn’t see that comin’,” Bonny grumbled, turning to go back inside. “Have fun, ‘Miss’ Rarity. Forgive me if I don’t believe a word you say. Or don’t, not my problem.” “Bonny, look—” started Braeburn. “I’ve said my piece!” Bonny snapped. “Now leave me be. Lady, you don’t know what you’re gettin’ into,” she said, pointing at Rarity. “This town don’t want or need your help! G’wan home if you know what’s good for you, an’ don’t come to my door again without somethin’ to show for it!” Before Braeburn could say a word, the door was slammed in their faces. Rarity sighed. “I was hoping that would go a little better.” “Didn’t it?” said Braeburn. “I thought you did great, personally. She seemed pretty agreeable, an’ that’s somethin’ only a miracle worker could pull off.” Rarity looked away to conceal the hot blush creeping up her cheeks. “What makes you say that?” “She didn’t just bark at you an’ chase you out with a broomstick.” Rarity gasped as they turned away from the door and walked back to town. “She did that? To whom?” “Mmhmm. Poor ol’ Graham Cracker, representative of Rail Gauge an’ Co. It was durin’ a town meeting, an’ he’d said some things that some folk didn’t take kindly to about our lack of progress an’ direction.” “And what do you think about progress, Braeburn?” He sucked in a breath through his teeth and trapped it in his throat, keeping Rarity in suspense for several seconds. “I think what matters most is that Appleloosa keeps the spirit that made it what it is. A place where ponies can live peacefully.” And there she had it. The thrill of getting somepony to say what she wanted without them even knowing. She turned a cagey smile on him, slitting her eyes and lifting her tail to give it a little more bounce. “Indeed.” Braeburn tried the same smile, and it looked so ridiculous on him that Rarity had to giggle. “You got somethin’ in mind?” he asked. “I do-ooo!,” she sing-songed. “Braeburn, this is perfect. An out of towner who is coming to judge the town and try to sway ponies to his side? Do you know what we must do now?” “I, uh—” “We advertise.” “Is that right?” “Quite!” Rarity chirped, feeling a little bounce come into her steps. “The ponies who come here see only an empty lot, a bunch of desert property waiting to be turned into a gauche tourist stop or some point where travelers can get their fill of apples while taking the train to other places. What we must do is show everypony the true character of Appleloosa. We must show them its life, its vivacious and happy soul underneath this mask of grit and dust!” Braeburn smiled again, but he seemed uncertain as to why. “Well that sounds fine an’ dandy, but what’s all that gonna do?” Rarity flashed him a dazzling grin and leaped onto a nearby crate, feeling an uncontrollable energy welling up inside her. This was inspiration, the kind of inspiration she longed for, and she held it with all her might. “Why, it will make those ponies stop thinking in terms of ‘how can I profit from Appleloosa’ and instead make them think ‘how can I help Appleloosa?’ Once they see that your town has a special quality all its own, one that cannot be denied, they’ll be more than happy to both leave this town to its own devices and give you the resources to make this place into whatever you wish it to be.” She stood up and twirled, letting her mane and tail follow her movements and their sheen catch the sun. “Oh, I’m getting shivers! But how to start? It’s a good thing I brought so much of my own. Perhaps a fair of some kind? An expo! That’s it! A public exhibition for all interested parties! Braeburn, we will show those ponies that Appleloosa is not just a dot on a map, but a town of living ponies bursting with character and potential!” She hopped down from the crate and landed gracefully, using her forward momentum to slink up to Braeburn, arching her back and peering up at him from just a few inches away. Braeburn leaned back with an amused smile. “And to do that,” said Rarity, lowering her voice to give it that essential, sensual reverberation. “I need to discover everything that Appleloosa has to offer.” Braeburn’s smile softened as he leaned forward. “Well, just so happens you’re talkin’ to an expert on everything Appleloosa.” “Then in that case, might I suggest we—” “Take shelter!” an unknown voice interrupted them. “Storm’s a’ brewin’! Get the sand outta yer tails an’ bring in that equipment! Somepony get out the tarps!” Braeburn raised an eyebrow, his smile growing into a goofy grin. “Do that?” Rarity deflated with a loud sigh. -------------- It wasn’t just a storm. It was a veritable monsoon. Rarity wasn’t familiar with the ecology of a desert, but Apple Tart assured her it was a fairly normal occurrence. The effects of leftover weather patterns drifting in from the Heartland and colliding with each other created these monsters. Helping the ponies rush their water-sensitive tools and goods inside was invigorating and even a little fun. The air took on a charged quality, full of anticipation and excitement over an event that was only seen once every several months. Once the rain did come, Rarity took shelter at the house she boarded in, sitting underneath the awning over the front porch, wrapped in a stylish pink poncho with a matching hat. The rain didn’t reach much further than the awning, but occasionally a strong gust of wind would hurl it into her shelter, necessitating boots to protect her already damaged hooficure. She sat here and braved the tugging wind and driving rain—not to mention the cacophonous noise of thunder and lightning—because the storm fascinated her. It was nothing like any she’d ever seen. This couldn’t just be a remnant of weather patterns used and spent in the Equestrian Heartland, left to sputter out and die over the frontier, but a true show of nature without ponies there to command it. What did her ancestors think when they endured these terrible showers without knowing Equestria was there to shelter them, or brave pegasi to wrestle the clouds into submission? She imagined for a moment that she was an ancient unicorn princess sitting on the balcony of some dour old fort, wondering why the world was the way it was. It must have been amazing to hold that much power and still see the world so utterly out of their control. So different than quiet old Ponyville… Oh, what was she saying? Ponyville was a storm in its own right. “You look peaceful.” She turned to see Braeburn standing in the doorway. “Ain’tcha cold, though?” “Not very,” Rarity replied. “Look closely.” Braeburn did, and noticed that her clothes were conspicuously dry. “It’s a low-level drying spell,” she explained. “The heat is just enough to make it bearable out here, along with my clothes. It’ll cause a bit of a headache to keep it up for so long, but it’s worth it.” A close burst of thunder made her flinch. The sound rolled through the street and on out of town. “You like the rain, then?” Braeburn asked once it passed, taking a seat next to her. “I like this rain,” she said. “Usually I’m too distracted when it rains in Ponyville—you almost always know when it’s coming, and it’s usually of a pleasant, moody consistency. It’s just there, and you are comforted by the familiarity and the atmosphere it provides, but ultimately one can be forgiven for taking it for granted. There will always be little showers in Ponyville as long as there are pegasi in Equestria.” Braeburn smirked, and she noticed him scoot just a little closer to her; perhaps to take advantage of the heat from her enchantment. “Heh. I remember the first time I moved out here as a settler. The rain alone just about made me panic, so it did, let alone the thunder n’ lightnin’. Wasn’t used to the intensity.” Rarity nodded. “Me neither. When I was young, I used to sit with Sweetie Belle when a storm came. I was already used to them, but she’d always come running to me or our parents and huddle with us. But then she became so enamored with it, much like I was. She plays in it whenever she can.” She looked at a particular puddle, imagining the splashes of heavy droplets were hooffalls of her little sister. Her heartstrings were plucked, and she let out a melancholy sigh. “She does many things that I once did, now. She wants to be just like me, I think.” “There’s much worse ponies to follow,” commented Braeburn with a firm nod. “An’ not many better.” Rarity laughed modestly. “Don’t oversell it, dear. I know I’m charming, but I’m not a miracle worker yet.” “Heh. Sorry.” The rain came down in sheets, filling the silence with its awe-inspiring roar. Rarity closed her eyes and lost herself in its ferocity. Her books back home, which had been so eager to praise the awesome power of the natural world and compared many a handsome stallion to, seemed mild and prosaic when compared to this. She felt like she was on the edge of a precipice, a leaf clinging to a twig as it was buffeted by wind, ready to be torn away and be dispersed. It was a heavenly feeling. Gradually, the rain slowed to a regular downpour, and Rarity dispersed her enchantment. This was the kind of rain she had listened to as a child with Sweetie Belle at her side, or serenaded her while she huddled with her friends and drank a new tea fresh from Zecora. Many hours had been whiled away in Ponyville matching the sound of her sewing machines to the steady drumbeat of the storm. She felt herself growing more wistful by the moment. “I guess I’m just excited,” said Braeburn, quiet enough that Rarity had to twist her ear around to hear him. “Nopony’s really agreed to do somethin’ like what you’re plannin’ for Appleloosa. An’ after hearin’ whatcha’ll ‘ave done for Equestria through AJ… I got confidence you’ll deliver.” “Of course!” Rarity declared, putting a hoof over her chest. “Do you know how many promises to the stars I’ve made in my time? And I have never let down a single one. Keeping to your word and giving your all. That is what generosity is.” Rarity took a deep breath of the Appleloosan air. “It doesn’t smell like Ponyville, though,” she murmured. “Hmm?” “The rain. It smells different here. I can taste something different about it.” Braeburn turned to her with a curious look, silently asking her to go on. “I think… I think I can smell the wildness of the weather. Or feel it, somehow, in here.” She reached up and touched a hoof to her horn. “It tingles and excites. I can feel the magic in the air running to and fro and it feels like watching Sweetie Belle and her friends, realizing all the potential that’s balled up inside them. There’s something childish and yet frighteningly powerful in such experiences. It’s as flighty as the wind and just as exquisitely dizzying.” “Yeah?” Braeburn asked, and by the wispy quality of his voice Rarity knew his curiosity was well and truly piqued, and she had to admit she liked it. It wasn’t often she got to discuss what being a unicorn actually felt like, much less find another pony who was so interested in it. Braeburn was certainly unique in that respect. “When I tried my hoof at controlling the weather, it was something I’d never felt before,” she said, nibbling her lip when she remembered the disastrous day her cutie mark was flipped with Rainbow Dash’s. “I remember it felt like rivers that needed to be channeled. I had to make it go where it was needed, where it would flow naturally, rather than simply forcing it into something that I wanted it to be. I probably should have taken a few cues from my dressmaking; it’s much the same process, really. But no, I did my best to make the weather pretty instead of just letting it be beautiful.” She blinked and felt the thrill of epiphany. “I… wouldn’t want to repeat such a mistake.” She waved a hoof at the drenched landscape, letting the tip of her hoof brush the water drizzling off the awning. She brought it back and looked at the droplets soaking into her fur. “This feels like an ocean. It has great tides and currents going here and there, and both its source and destination are utterly unknown to me. It’s confusing and awe-inspiring in its complexity. There’s no way I can grasp all of this at once, not like I could in the Heartland. Twilight could, perhaps, but I doubt she’d advise it. Rainbow Dash,” she said with a sudden laugh, “she’d be up there trying to punch the very clouds into submission. But while it’s quite dreadful and grey and terrifying, I can see the beauty in it. I can see the wonder.” There was a sudden lull in the rain, which died down to a mere drizzle until the wind was the only noise. Rarity looked down, and the magic was instantly broken. There was just going to be a lot of squelchy, disgusting mud from here on out. “I can also see why ponies would want to control it, to tame it. But it’s all in how you go about it, isn’t it? Inspiration is much the same. Holding an idea too tight will only squeeze it right out of your grip. Letting it go will only let it run away over the horizon and suddenly it’s gone, never to return.” “That’s beautiful,” Braeburn whispered, and her head jerked around to look at him. Only now did she feel the intensity of his gaze, creating a warm spot on her face where it landed, and the sincerity in his voice. “It is,” she whispered. “It all is. Appleloosa is beautiful, Braeburn.” In her heart she knew she spoke the truth. This town was worth saving. This town was worth keeping. It was a place with its own magic that Ponyville couldn’t match, and yet both places were fast becoming dear to her in their own way. The wind and rain picked up once again, back into another pounding maelstrom. In the midst of the clamor Rarity realized that Appleloosa could, just perhaps, need her in much the same way Ponyville did. But could she entertain any notion at all of staying here? It had to be far too early to think about such things. Ponyville was home. Ponyville was where her friends were, without whom she couldn’t have done so many amazing things. But surely Equestria could take care of itself sometimes. Her family, her business, however, could not. Even if she passed this test with flying colors and everything she hoped for came true, there was still home to go back to. Appleloosa was not home. And yet, looking up at Braeburn with the thrill of wild magic in her veins, seeing his eyes so full of hope, she wondered. He was like the desert after it had gotten this fresh rain, ready to help his town burst with life after seeing it be torn apart. She had made such a show of being perfect for the job, but could she deliver on an entire city when sometimes a few simple dresses gave her trouble? “What do you feel, Braeburn?” she asked. “Me?” he asked in return, blinking. “About the rain? Well, gosh, Rarity. I can’t describe it the way you can. Those were some of the most beautiful words I’ve ever heard.” “Then be inspired.” “I am. Whew!” He leaned back, brushing a hoof through his mane. He’d left his hat in the house, and Rarity loved the way his mussy hair fell over his hoof. If only she could get at it with her styling gels, make a few snips and cuts here and there, she could make cowpony imitation all the rage in Canterlot. “I guess I’m used to it. I said it made me nervous at one point in time, but that was years ago. I started work as a cowpony in Dodge Junction, helped run cattle an’ supplies out to the other towns before the railways were put down. It was one heck of a task, lemme tell ya.” He leaned back with a pensive expression, rubbing his chin with his hoof. “I remember one time I was helpin’ haul wagons an’ steer cattle clear across the San Palomino Desert, tryin’ to get ‘em to Colterado Springs for market. Now that was an adventure if I ever had one. Don’t got time to tell the whole story right now, but I promise I’ll tell it to ya when I get a chance. Anyway, we’re goin’ along just fine till suddenly, right when we hit the plains, we’re struck with a twister. Now, that time we had a team of pegasi that’d help keep the weather off our backs, but this’n was such a doozy they told us it was hopeless. We had to dig an’ hope for the best. Circled the wagons, ducked down, an’ waited it out.” His eyes took on a distant, somber look, gazing into nothing. “It didn’t come close enough to harm us, but I’ll never forget the sound. The sound, Rarity, it was like nothin’ I’d ever heard. It was like a whole herd a’ freight trains runnin’ across the ground, while a flight of dragons went overheard an’ roared with all their might. I saw the base, an’ how it just… tore up the ground around it. I know Equestria’s got almost nothin’ like these twisters nowadays. I’d only seen pictures in history books until then. I watched it chug on by, didn’t even care that we were there. If it wanted, it coulda swept right over us an’ I wouldn’t be here talkin’ to ya. But it just moved on, like… oh, like some kinda giant. It was a force, a… a power that I felt down in my bones. Kinda like you an’ your horn. It was beyond me.” Rarity nodded in understanding. “That monster had me scared stiff, but it had me mesmerized somethin’ fierce too. When it was done, I knew then an’ there it was my destiny to tame this land. Make it a place Equestrians could come an’ go as they pleased an’ live an’ laugh an’ smile without worryin’ about a giant twister or some ugly monster. We used to have monsters out here, you know, before the Royal Guard flushed ‘em out. We couldn’t start work on the town till they’d cleared out the area. ‘Pparently we had somethin’ called ‘chupacabras' out here back in the day.” He smirked and nodded at the storm. “But sometimes, heh, them critters just keep findin’ ways to come back. It’s nice to have those reminders, sometimes. I like it. I like livin’ near the wild. It helps me feel like I’m makin’ more of a difference, I guess. This little outpost against everythin’ nature can throw at us.” He sighed heavily. “An’ some things that other ponies throw, too. But all these hardships will just make it all worth it in the end. Ain’t that right, Rarity? Givin’ so much, it’s only natural you’re gonna get a lot back?” They both started when they turned to each other at the same time and realized how close they were, but didn’t pull away. They stared in silence for a time, until Rarity realized the rain and wind was dribbling away to nothing. “It’s true,” she murmured. “Perseverance always pays off. Especially when you join your efforts with that of another.” Braeburn opened his mouth and took a breath, as if to say something, but then closed it again and licked his lips. “I, uh… should go an’ check on the town,” he said. “Gotta make sure none of the trees were swamped, clean up the buffalo trail, an’... an’ whatnot.” “Of course. I’ll be there soon,” Rarity said with a nod. They lingered for one more moment before breaking eye contact. Braeburn hurried off without even getting his hat, his hooves squelching in the mud and joining other intrepid ponies coming out now that the storm was over. Rarity watched him go until he disappeared around a corner, and then cast her gaze outward. A flash of movement caught her eye from afar, and when she focused on it she was looking up the road to Bonny’s house. Bonny stood there looking up at the sky, lingering just a moment longer before she turned and went inside. Had she been there this whole time, watching the sky right alongside us? The thought made Rarity sigh before she went back inside. It was time to start gathering followers.