Rarity had only walked inside the curtains when she turned the lights to the hairstyling room on. The sudden flash of lights provoked Harold to cover his eyes for a moment, but his eyes eventually adjusted to the light. The hairstyling room was like an average barber shop. A salon chair was made of polished reflective metal, green cushions covering the seats and the back. The desk sat in the back of the room with drawers containing scissors, spray bottles, a magically-powered razor and other basic materials for styling someone’s hair. Finally, a big vanity mirror sat atop the back of the desk, watching everything in its own reflective perspective like it was a god looming over everything and everyone in sight.
Harold was met with a face he barely recognized at first sight. He saw himself as a scarred and bruised half-naked teenager, using Rarity’s towels to robe himself at the waist, hair covering nearly half of his pure blue eyes. It was no wonder that Rarity insisted that he got a haircut from her. He almost looked like the punk kids that he came to resent in New York City.
Rarity closed the curtains and cleared her throat, turning Harold’s attention to her. “Alright, Harold. If you would so kind as to sit down, we may begin your mane trimming.”
Harold complied and lowered himself in the chair, feeling the cool, squishy cushions on his back while he ritualistically sat still and stoic. Rarity wrapped a dark green poncho on Harold and tightly knotted the white strings on the back of his neck. The poncho had only reached up to the human’s knees, much to his own dismay. But then again, Harold was a foot taller than all of the other ponies in Ponyville, so he couldn’t really argue with that concept.
Rarity lowered the chair to the minimum height and leaned him backwards so she would get a better look and angle at Harold’s hair. She hummed a little while inspecting the hygienic state of the hair, even to the point of wearing her red thick-rimmed glasses, which doubled as a dual-lens magnifying glass, to help her look at his hair at a more smaller scale. After Rarity was done with her inspection, she tilted Harold into an upright seating position but kept the chair at the same height.
“Despite how thoroughly you’ve washed your hair, Harold, it still resembles a moss drooping off of a tree branch in the Everfree Forest.” Rarity opened a drawer and took a pair of scissors, a comb, a spray bottle and a hair brush out with her magic. After setting the hair brush down on the desk, Rarity levitated the other tools around Harold’s head. “But, with my help and my knowledge in hairstyling, I’ll turn that depressing willow into a healthy young tree!”
“What’s the Everfree Forest?” Harold asked.
“Oh, it is a horrid place, Harold! A simply horrible, and not to mention, unsanitary place!” Rarity quivered with the memories of going into the Everfree Forest all flooding back into her mind. All of the creatures she encountered, all of the danger and the creepy places she explored. All of the times in the forest were enough to make the fashionista alone shiver with fright.
“The Everfree Forest are the woods nearby that borders Ponyville from the outskirts of Equestria,” Rarity reluctantly explained. “Needless to say, the forest doesn’t function naturally just as the rest of Equestria does.”
“What do you mean?” Harold asked.
Rarity gulped nervously. “Well, the plants grow, the animals take care of themselves, and the clouds move... all on their own!” There was a slight panic heard in Rarity’s voice. The alabaster gasped dramatically and, with her horn glowing in time, pulled her fainting couch out of nowhere just as she landed on the soft red cushions.
“So?” Harold shrugged. “What’s so scary about that?”
Rarity gasped and perked her head up like a deer facing headlights. “‘What’s so scary about that!?’" the unicorn repeated. "Why darling, haven’t you been listening!? The Everfree Forest is home to some of the most ugly and ferocious plants in Equestria! The weather changes on its own without you even knowing it and the beasts that lurk within the forest are as vile and ferocious as they can be! Timberwolves, manticores, parasprites, even the Ursa Major and the Ursa Minor! Trust me, Harold, if you went up against one of those creatures, they would gobble you up whole on the first chance they can get!”
Rarity then stopped for a moment and pondered, her hoof tapping her bottom lip. “Of course, there was that one sea serpent I met in the river who wasn’t as ferocious as I thought. I believe his name was Steve or something? Steve Magnet?”
“Umm, Rarity?” Harold asked, snapping the alabaster unicorn from her thoughts. “You were still on the subject of the Everfree Forest?”
“Oh, you’re right, Harold. I’m terribly sorry.” Rarity daintily cleared her throat, composing herself once more, then went back into her near hysterical mode. “What I’m trying to say is, darling, is that no matter what you do, you must stay out of the Everfree Forest. A young colt like yourself wouldn’t last ten minutes in there without somepony to be there with you.”
“I’ll take that into consideration,” Harold said. “Though, I’m still not sure what’s so damn scary about growing plants and changing weather.”
WHAP!
“OW!”
Harold jerked forward when he felt something swat him at the back of his head. It was a rolled-up February edition of Ponies Today that Rarity kept leftover with top Equestrian model Fleur de Lis on the front cover in a flirtatious pose. Rarity looked at him crossly as she unrolled the magazine and gently inserted back into the wicker basket near the salon desk.
“Harold, we’re not allowed to use that sort of language in this household,” Rarity scolded lightly. “It’s vulgar, crass and highly uncouth. I refuse to acknowledge somepony with a potty mouth, especially when he’s in the presence of mares like myself and around small children. You understand?”
“Yes, ma’am. Sorry, ma’am,” Harold apologized, rubbing the spot where he was hit on the head.
“It’s alright, Harold. You just have to be careful what you say around everypony, okay?” Rarity opened up the drawers with her magic and, from each drawer, took out a pair of scissors, a comb, a spray bottle and the magic razor. Rarity set the razor aside on the salon desk but kept the other tools enveloped in her magic.
“Now then, if there are no further interruptions, let's get your mane trimming underway, shall we?” With that said, Rarity began to cut Harold’s hair, her tools orbiting around his head like out of control satellites orbiting around a planet. Using her magic, Rarity used the comb to gently pull on a portion of Harold’s hair, using the spray bottle in case the comb got stuck somewhere on the strands. When the hair was secured by the comb, Rarity cut the strands off with precision, meticulousness and a series of snip-snip-snips made by the slicing of the metallic scissors.
While the hairs were cut from the human’s head, the tufts slowly and gracefully floated downwards onto the stone cold floor. A pile of blondish-brown puffs began to form on the floor while Rarity looked at the precise lengths of her cuts with her glasses. It had been no more than five minutes when the haircut was already halfway done. The backside and the top of Harold’s head was already expertly trimmed and Rarity was ready to move on to the front, starting with the sides that covered up most of Harold’s ears.
“Oh my, you’ve certainly let your mane go,” Rarity lamented. “Tell me, Harold, do they have a barber shop where you come from?”
Harold chuckled lightly to Rarity’s light bantering as he kept as still as a statue, staring motionlessly into the vanity mirror and at the reflection which looked back at him. “Of course we have barbers on Earth, Rarity,” Harold answered. “It’s just that I never really visited the local barber shop in all of my life. Come to think of it, I've never even visited the city that much either."
"Wait! Come again!? Did you just say that you've never actually got your mane done by a barber before!?" Rarity yelped, almost swooning with disgust as Harold shook his head. "My word! How ever did you even get your mane trimmed then!?"
"At home," Harold answered. "I usually got my haircut every so often, say around two weeks or so. My mom hired a hairstylist who, besides checking her hair for any split ends, gave me a haircut on every other Saturday morning. She kept saying that with the right scissors and with a regular hair appointment, then I would go out looking presentable towards everyone in the whole wide world."
“Really? And did you enjoy looking presentable?” Rarity asked smugly.
“No. I hated the way she cut my hair. Just plain hated it,” Harold said with a dissatisfied humph! "She always cut my hair so short, I couldn't even comb it over with my fingers. Whenever I went in with a good head of hair, I always came out looking like a dork to everyone. I was so embarrassed, I just wanted nothing more than to hide my head in a paper bag until my hair starts to grow back. Then, two weeks later, I have to go back for my appointment and it's the same cycle over again."
"And you let yourself go through with this, coming out looking like balding monkey?"
"I had to. My parents said that's the best way they could save money on haircuts. God, I hated them for that."
“Well, not to worry, my dear boy. You haven't lived your life until you've been treated with my fabulous hairstyling technique," Rarity said, feeling both giddy and proud of her previous works with hairstyling. "Whenever somepony comes in with a case of bad hair day or needs a good trimming, I just cut them into a style that suits them and they walk into Ponyville feeling fresh and satisfied. You should ask Sweetie Belle about it. I giver her such a fabulous mane trimming once in a while and she never complains about it."
“Who’s Sweetie Belle?” asked Harold.
“Oh, she’s my little sister. She’s about ten years of age and, bless her little heart, she’s still looking for her Cutie Mark.” Rarity giggled with every memory of Sweetie Belle desperately trying to find her special talent flooding back into her mind. “Why, she and her friends made themselves a club dedicated to finding their special talent by going around town doing these silly little jobs and stunts. I daresay that sometimes, those three can get themselves into trouble, with or without them knowing.”
Harold couldn't help but laugh a little. He could relate to the times he and Lana played tag around the house, only to find themselves in trouble with Reginald for running in the halls. “Come on, Rarity, they’re just kids. Just give them time and then they’ll find out what they’re the best at. Remember, children are the future.”
Rarity giggled once more, covering her smile behind her hoof. “I guess that’s true. They are still very young at age. But, when the time comes, they’ll get their Cutie Marks and that will be a big milestone in their lives.”
“No doubt about it.”
Rarity pulled the sides of Harold’s hair with her comb, her scissors going snip-snip-snip as the hair floated down onto the floor. The piles of hair were spread out across the floor which, if they were all combined with each other, made a pile the size of an average fully-grown cat. When Rarity finished trimming with the right side of Harold’s head, she began to advance to the other side. It was then she was met with something on her mind, something that she would regret asking in a future time.
“Harold, may I ask you a personal question?”
The human felt himself freeze for a moment. His eyes followed Rarity through the mirror, her blue eyes gleaming with insecurity and reluctance, as well as his. “Umm, sure,” Harold replied. “What do you want to know?”
“It’s about your sister. What was she like on your world?” Rarity asked, slight hesitation in her voice. “You know, like how close were the two of you before she... well...?”
“Oh, that...” Harold sighed through his nose. He looked up to the ceiling and folded his hands, his fingers locking into place while the only noises in the room were the hum of Rarity’s magic and her scissors going snip-snip-snip. “I suppose you could say that she and I have been close together ever since I was born. Very close. She was always there for me when I needed it. When I was born, my parents refused to lift a finger to take care of me. They said I was weak, fragile, pathetic even. But Lana saw something more inside of me and she must’ve seen what I was going to do with my life. That’s why she raised me as a baby. Lana knew I was going to bring such great things to everyone I met. She said I would be the herald for all good things to come, so hence the homophonic name.”
“Oh my. Your sister must’ve had her hands full just to raise you on her own,” Rarity complimented.
“Oh, I didn’t say she raised me on her own,” Harold replied. “Lana had some help from Reginald and from some of the maids who worked at home.”
“Reginald?”
“My head butler,” Harold said. An “ahh” escaped from Rarity’s lips while she continued to attentively trim his hair. “When Lana passed away last month, Reginald was the only guy I could rely on during my depression. Before I left my home for good, Reginald helped to see me off so I could get a good head start on my journey. I wanted him to come with me, but he chose stay back in New York City. He said something about personal problems of his own and he needed to pay for them by becoming the butler in my family."
Harold shifted slightly in his seat while he continued his story. "Still, I can't deny that he's done so much for me and Lana in our childhoods. He helped heal us when we were sick or injured, helped us when we got stumped on our homework and always cooked the most delicious meals we've ever eaten when my parents were out of town on business."
"But you do miss him, don't you?" Rarity asked in a somber tone.
"I do, actually. Reginald may not have been there for me the same way Lana was, but he was still there for me, nevertheless. He was always there when I needed some help to cope with my loss. He was... like a grandfather to me, y’know?” Harold sighed as he kept his gaze on the ceiling, looking at it as if it was deep space. "Sometimes, I wonder how he's holding up with me being gone. I just hope that he’s endured my dad chewing him out for helping me run away in the middle of the night. Guess we’ll never know, will we?”
The room fell into a depressed silence. The only sounds of Rarity's magic and her scissors proved to be nowhere near enough to change the mood from its somber state. Rarity herself fell under the sway of gloom emanating from Harold. She began to wonder, what would happen if she were in Harold's shoes? If she lost somepony she loved the most, like Sweetie Belle, for instance, what would she do?
Would she make her little sister proud somehow and search for a way to give her life another chance?
Would she run away in hopes to escape her painful life and find a new life where pain was nothing but a memory?
What would her mother and father feel if she ran off on her own in pursuit of her own happiness?
More importantly, what would Sweetie Belle do if she lost Rarity? Would she do the same thing?
Heaving a sigh, Rarity levitated the scissors and the comb to Harold and began trimming the left side of Harold's hair, shortening it in less than two minutes. “Regardless of what you said, I must commend your sister and your butler for raising such a good-hearted young colt like yourself. They've simply done a marvelous job at that,” the alabaster unicorn complimented. “Now, if you could just close your eyes for a minute, please? I don't want your hair falling into your eyes."
Harold complied, closing his eyes while Rarity levitated the comb and scissors to the the front of Harold's hair. The scissors snipped through the human's hair, which fell on the poncho, on his face or onto the floor. When the hair stopped falling, Harold began to open his eyes. To his surprise, his vision was shaded by a couple of white hooves covering his eyes, completely blocking his view of the mirror before he could get the chance to see his new hairdo.
"Not just yet," Rarity sang. "I've just got to do one last thing first." Suddenly Harold's face was attacked by the tiny fibers of Rarity's hairbrush sweeping his hair. While Rarity hummed a tune to herself, Harold became the subject of delicate, yet firm sweeps of the brush, passing through his hair, his face and on his arms. These sweeps only made Harold struggle, but they were muffled by the passing bristles passing through his face for a double sweep. As the brush finished its slightly rough sweep, with the addition of having taking the poncho off, Rarity removed her hooves and revealed the human teen to the mirror.
"And she is..." Rarity kissed the tip of her hoof and motioned it in the air like a Neightalian stallion, even to the extent of using their native accent. "Finito!"
Harold opened his eyes to the mirror and gasped lightly. He saw himself before the mirror, though he felt he was looking at someone else for a moment or two. But as he continued to look into the mirror, he could see himself becoming that someone else. His hair had been cut perfectly in half, not too short from his head, not too long either and parted down the middle. His bangs remained at the same length, but they were separated by the middle into two other bangs which extended down to only his eyebrows. The extraordinary work that Rarity had done left Harold speechless. There were no words to describe how he felt at the moment.
"Isn't it splendid, darling? Just look at yourself," Rarity said, flicking her mane back with pride. "You look like you'e finally seen your true self hidden away all this time. I’ll give you a moment to take it all in. Feel yourself becoming as refined as a freshly polished diamond. Bask in the glory that is the new and improved Harold Gabriel DeMatt.”
Harold touched his hair and tussled it. It was so easy to comb over with his fingers now, he couldn’t really complain about it. He felt as if this was just step two of his rebirth, one step closer until he could rise from the ashes like the legendary phoenix. Looking back, the way that Harold’s hair was covering the top half face made him look like the punk kids he came to resent in New York, the sort of people who had a thing for hard rock and modern pop music. Now that punk kid was transformed into a timid, good-hearted teenager with the passion for drawing and classical music.
“W-Wow, Rarity. This is the best haircut that I’ve ever gotten,” Harold said meekly. “Thank you so much.”
“Think nothing of it, darling. I’m only here to do what’s best for you because we’re friends now, are we not?” Rarity stifled a giggle before she extended a hoof out to Harold. “But that is only step one into your complete transformation into the new you. The next thing we have left to do is to get your clothing situated. Come along, Harold.”
Harold took Rarity’s hoof and stood up from his seat. As he did so, he felt something drop, followed by a cool breeze running between his knees. Harold froze. He looked down to his private area only to make a horrifying discovery: his makeshift skirt feel from his waist! The possibility was the knots must’ve loosened themselves when he sat down in the chair. Now, with no towels to help cover up his privates, Harold was completely naked and exposed... right in front of a lady, he might add.
Feeling flustered, Harold looked up to Rarity. The fashionista’s face turned from delicate white into a ripe red grape tomato while she continued to stare with intrigue. “Oh my,” Rarity squeaked. “Harold, is that what you didn’t want us to see?”
Harold didn’t know what to do next. He was standing in front of a mare, completely naked and very embarrassed. He began to whimper while his face changed from tan into a bright shade of red. Little shocks of electricity flowed through his nerves as Harold did the only thing that he could ever do at a time like this.
Scream.
==================================================================
“The controversial scandal involving a relationship between Prince Blueblood and a married Saddle Arabian has moved into its third day today.
“In the afternoon of March 10th, a maid working for the Casaflanka Hotel was making her rounds cleaning the rooms of the grand four-star hotel when she accidentally witnessed an affair between the infamous Equestrian playcolt prince and a married Saddle Arabian mare. The local police say the hotel guests staying there heard a mare scream, then came cantering down three flights of stairs down to the ground floor, where she alerted the authorities of what she witnessed. Prince Blueblood and the mare were detained ten minutes later and will be placed under the watchful eye of his aunt and ruler of Equestria, Princess Celestia.
“When asked about this rising scandal, Princess Celestia simply shook her head and stated: ‘I can’t speak for the actions on behalf of my nephew. No matter how hard I tried to change his ways, Blueblood will always be the same spoiled prince as he is today. No other comment.’”
“A hearing at the Day Court will be held next month a week following Prince Blueblood’s return to Equestria. According to some speculation, the ponies who will testify against Prince Blueblood will be--”
“AAAAAAHHHHHH!!!”
Twilight nearly jumped from her seat, nearly dropping the Ponies Today from her magical grip. From behind the curtains, a fracas went on in the hairstyling room, which consisted of screams, whinnies and the sound of someone falling down on the floor. Setting the magazine on the worktable, Twilight cantered over to the curtains to investigate the commotion. She forced the curtains open with her hoof and stormed right in the room.
“What’s going on in here!?” Twilight demanded. “I heard sompeony screaming and I came over to see what's happened! Is everything okay in--!?” Twilight fell into an immediate silence. Her eyes drooped back and her eyes bulged out, gazing upon the most unpleasant scenario she had ever witnessed.
Harold was lying on the ground flat on his back, his towel skirt becoming loosely undone around his waist. Rarity laid awkwardly on his chest, her face just mere inches away from his. Rarity's face and Harold's face came so close to accidentally locking lips with each other, if it weren't for the unicorn's muzzle. They turned and looked to Twilight, the both of them exchanging blank stares with the lavender alicorn.
That lavender alicorn then slowly backed away and exited the room, pretending she did not see what she thought she saw. When Twilight was clear from the hairstyling room, she trotted back to the table and buried her face in the magazine. In a situation like this, Twilight figured it was a good idea to skip ahead to the article of Sapphire Shore’s charitable concert in Vanhoover.
But Twilight should have known then that Harold and Rarity's "intimate kiss" had more to it than it met the eye. They looked like they would kiss each other intimately, yes, but in reality, they were trying to get the towels retied around Harold’s waist. The floor had grown slick with Harold’s hair that the latter slipped backwards while he tried to wrap it around, despite Rarity’s magic wrapping around the corner wanting to help him. When Harold’s heel met with a tuft of hair, he fell backwards on his rear, which also sent Rarity flying on him since she had a pull on the corner. Rarity safely fell on Harold on his chest, inches away from his face.
That was when Twilight stormed in on them.
Now, when Twilight had fully exited the hairstyling room, Harold gently nudged Rarity off of his chest, making her land on her back. Rarity sat up and looked at Harold. An awkward silence hung overhead for only a moment or two. Then, Rarity cleared her throat daintily, breaking that silence and easing the tension between them.
"Harold," Rarity said firmly. "We are not speak of this to anypony else. Do you understand?"
"Y-Y-Yes, ma'am," Harold repeated stammering. "H-Hey, Rarity?”
“Yes, darling?”
“Did you put on marshmallow-scented body wash or something?”
==================================================================
A lot of things happened after Harold and Rarity stepped out of the hairstyling room.
First, Rarity had to retie the towels around the human teen’s waist. To make sure that they wouldn’t fall off, Rarity tied the knots tight enough to leave little red marks on Harold’s skin.
Second, they had to explain what happened during that uncomfortable moment between the two to Twilight. Though she seemed skeptical about the story at first, Twilight was both a good listener and very understanding. Otherwise, this was one moment both Rarity and Harold would never live down, unless Twilight had to use a memory cleansing spell to wipe that moment from their pasts clean from history.
Finally, the measurements went underway.
Harold stood on the tabletop while Rarity used a tape measure to calculate the length and width of his arms. Then she went for his leg and hip size so she would make a new pair of pants for him. She even asked for his foot size so she could make him a new pair of sneakers. Harold insisted he didn’t need a new pair of sneakers, he already owned a nice pair sneakers. They just needed a good spit-shining was all.
Still, Harold was thankful to Rarity for providing him with some much-needed comfort. She provided him with a shower, a fresh haircut, and now, he would receive some soft cotton-like clothes that he so desired wearing. The rough material in his school uniforms made him chafe and they caused him to break out in a rash. The only pieces of clothing that Harold found comfort in was his cotton fabric pajama attire. To Harold, the cotton in his pajamas was like applying lotion to his rash, just a cooling, soothing sensation where the soreness of the rash just disappeared in an instant. He just couldn’t wait to see if Rarity’s fabrics would provide that same soothing relief.
When the measurements were finally made, Rarity asked Harold to come upstairs to her “inspiration room” where she would enact her idea she had before she gave him his haircut. Harold was slightly impressed with the decor of the room. Two opposing shades of brown and tan made up the tile floor. A queen-sized bed with a canopy sat in the left corner of her room. Faceless, colorless pony-shaped mannequins... or ponyquins in this case... sat by the wall. A working desk with a bulletin board and various desks sat aligned with each other to make up the right side of the wall.
But the whole room was in a total mess. Everywhere that Harold saw was nothing short of a messy room with colorful fabrics and materials covering nearly every inch of the room. It was like someone drove an entire rainbow through a wood chipper and into a dust devil.
“Alright, Harold. I’m going to give you an insight on my new idea for your new clothing,” Rarity said. Lighting her horn, she grabbed most of the fallen materials from the floor with her magic and placed them on her already messy desk. After Rarity cleaned up nearly the entire floor, she turned to Harold with a slight grin.
“Now tell me, darling,” she said, clicking her tongue. “What do you know of the emotional spectrum?”
“Easy,” Harold responded with a shrug. “The emotional spectrum is a series of colors that match the mood you’re in, like using red to express that you’re feeling angry and so forth. A lot of artists use those colors to express themselves in the form of their artwork.”
“You seem to know a lot about the basics of color,” Rarity complimented.
“I do. Knowing how to use colors is like basic elementary for artists like me.”
“Well, what if I told you that I would be using that very same spectrum in the form of your clothing?”
Harold suddenly shot Rarity a surprised look. Using an array of colors to reveal his emotions in his clothing was like saying he was going to wear a uniform made up of nearly 1,000 mood rings. Harold didn’t know what he felt. Surprised, maybe, but he also felt a mix of other emotions that had enough power to make a single mood ring explode.
Rarity stifled a giggle as she watched Harold stand in place, a slack-jawed face written in his visage. “I see that you’re taking my idea rather well,” she teased. “Now before you get ahead of yourself with what you're thinking, allow me to tell you about my new idea. Though my idea is indeed experimental, this is one experiment I hope to be worth looking at.
"When you told us of your terrible tragedy on your world, I could deeply empathize with what you had to go through." Rarity levitated a foot-high stack of paper and a small piece of willow stick charcoal from one of the drawers, oddly enough to be the only organized thing in the room. "But, when you also mentioned how strongly devoted you were to your sister, I was inspired to create a new attire based on that very same devotion. And so, with your help and my expertise on creating this new design, we will create the perfect outfit to help express all that you've felt during your hardened years!
"What do you think, Harold? Doesn’t that sound like the perfect idea?" Rarity asked. “Harold?”
No response came from the human teen.
He was still frozen in his place with the same surprised look on his face.
Rarity gently poked him on the chest, only to be unresponsive to that action as well. “Harold, are you feeling alright darling?” Rarity asked without having any luck. “Harold, darling, can you say something, or at the very least, move? You’re starting to frighten me-WHA-HA-HAAA!”
Rarity whinnied with surprise when two fleshy arms suddenly wrapped around her belly and hoisted up to Harold's chest in bone-crushing hug. Tears leaked from his eyes as he spun around in circles, causing Rarity to become dizzy near to the point of nauseousness. "Oh, Rarity! That's the most perfect idea I've ever heard!" Harold sobbed, overcome with joyous emotion. "I... I... I've always wanted some clothing that helped express myself! Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, thank you!"
“You’re welcome darling,” Rarity said. “Now, would you be so kind as to put me down, please? I can’t... really... breathe...”
“Oh!” Harold dropped Rarity to the floor on her hooves, which she slipped on and fell on her belly and began to cough. As she choked to regain her breath, Harold began to feel nervous, afraid that he accidentally hurt his unicorn friend trying to show his gratitude. "Oh, Rarity, I-I-I'm so sorry!" Harold stammered shakily. "I-I-I didn't mean t-to hurt you! I-I-It's just that w-w-when you told me y-your idea, I was so happy and I couldn't c-c-control how ha-happy I was and..."
Rarity raised a hoof to silence the boy. She coughed a couple of times and trailed off with some wheezing, but she managed to catch her breath and breathe normally. "It's quite alright, darling. I'm used to receiving these sorts of hugs," Rarity reassured. "Besides, you didn't do any real damage to me. You might of suffocated me, yes, but you were just showing me how much you appreciate my generosity. There's no harm in showing your gratitude."
"B-B-But, Rarity..."
Rarity extended a hoof to Harold's lips, which in turn silenced his words and fears. "Hush now, Harold, there's no need for you to fret over a silly little thing like this. You simply must learn how to not take even the smallest things so seriously, darling. It won’t be very good for your hopes of rebuilding your life from scratch.”
Harold gently lowered Rarity’s hoof from his mouth, his head turned away with embarrassment.
“Sorry. It’s just... every one of those ‘little things’ usually got to me so much on Earth. I tried so hard just to enjoy the little things, but it felt like something was holding me back, ya know?”
“Harold. Look at me, darling.” Harold turned and looked at Rarity. Just like her tone in her voice, Rarity’s look was gentle yet firm, almost like that as if a protective mother’s instincts kicked in. “Harold, I need you to listen to me and listen good. Right now, you are in a tight spot where you are trying to move on from your life and I understand how that might feel. But, in order to move on, you have to stop letting the little things get to you. If I was in your, uh... shoes right now, I would do something that you seem to be reluctant to do.”
“What would that be?”
“Live life a little,” Rarity answered. “Don’t let the little things stray you from your path. If I was down with my life and there was nothing left for me to help push me through, then ask yourself: ‘What would Pinkie Pie do?’”
Rarity patted the back of Harold's shoulder blade and stifled a giggle. "Why, it's obvious, darling: you just have to laugh. If you feel your days being clouded by sadness and doubt, you just throw your head up to the sky and laugh those horrible away.”
To illustrate her point, Rarity tilted her head to the ceiling just lightly and began to laugh. Her laughter was expectedly posh and delicate, but nevertheless amusing for Harold to see. A grin slowly crept onto his face and snickered a little. Then that snickering turned into laughter. It wasn’t because of watching Rarity laugh, but because of how shaky her laugh was. Once again, Harold felt a gentle hoof pat his back as the alabaster unicorn delivered a similar smile back to him.
“There now, darling. Do you feel any better?” Rarity asked.
Harold finished his laughing, wiping away a tear in his eye.
“Yeah. I feel a lot better now, Rarity. Thanks a lot.”
“It’s no trouble at all, darling. I’m just glad I could get you to laugh away your troubles.” Rarity then perked up before pondering off into her own thoughts. “But then again, Pinkie Pie will know that I’ve made you laugh without her consent. I’ll have to bake her some cupcakes in order to get on her good side.”
“Uh, pardon me?” Harold asked.
“Oh, it’s nothing, Harold. I’m just wondering how I should avoid Pinkie’s bad side. When it comes to making others laugh and feel happy, Pinkie has a sort of a sixth sense about it.” Harold’s eyebrow cocked up with confusion while Rarity cleared her throat to recompose herself. “But never mind that. Now is the time we put our creativity to the test.”
==================================================================
Cramping back.
Fluttering eyes.
Tightening stomach sphincter.
Pinkie Pie was abruptly interrupted from mixing the cupcake batter for her Pinkie Sense Combo. She knew exactly what this Combo meant: somewhere in Ponyville, somepony just made somepony else laugh without even letting her know ahead of time first. The stomach tightening also meant that very same pony used her signature sage advice that she’s given everypony else’s! Whoever this pony was would be forced to bake Pinkie Pie cupcakes for a whole month before she could truly forgive them... unless they also had a meaningful apology planned out ahead.
Either that was what she felt, or...
“Nah, it’s probably just those chimicherrychangas I had for breakfast!” Pinkie chirped to herself.
Pinkie Pie went back to mixing the batter, humming the “Cupcake Song” while doing so. Who knew what she had in store for the advice-stealing pony that she would eventually track down and find? Only time would tell.
==================================================================
Rarity levitated a piece of willow stick charcoal into Harold’s hands. It wasn’t anything like his favorite black pencil, but it had to suffice. “Fluttershy tells me that you are an artist of sorts,” said Rarity. “I was told all your work you did in your little sketchbook. From what I’ve heard, you’re quite the young artist, are you not?”
“Actually, I’m a cartoonist,” said Harold. “But yeah, my only goal in life is to draw. I’ve always wanted my drawings to be made into comic books or make it into the newspapers.”
“Splendid, darling, absolutely grand! That’s exactly what we need for our little project! With a strong, vivid imagination like yours combined my fabulous fashion skills, we will create an outfit worthy of the first human to set foot in Equestria!” Rarity took a slip of paper from her amazingly high stack of paper and slammed on the desk with her hoof. That motion was almost as if Rarity was ready to take on this imaginative challenge.
“So, Mr. Harold,” Rarity asked, narrowing her eyes whilst smiling. “Shall we get started?”
Harold looked at the charcoal held in his fingers. He could tell there was a message that was trying to get across to him, but he didn’t know what. As he looked to the charcoal, he could feel an open window of opportunity waiting for him to crawl through. With a determined smile, Harold put the tip of the charcoal on the paper and nodded.
“Alright, Rarity. Let’s do this.”
“Excellent. Now, let’s discuss what colors you want in your outfit.”
==================================================================
Twilight was nearly done with reading her second magazine. It had been an hour since Harold and Rarity went upstairs to get Harold’s clothing situated. While Twilight wanted nothing more than to check up on their progress with the clothing, but Rarity insisted that she waited until they were finished with the designing and the fitting. But she knew it was going well. She could hear voices coming from the upstairs. The last half hour was spent on them discussing the colors and the designs to be added in. The next twenty minutes was assumed to be the time frame when Rarity was creating the outfit and getting Harold fit for his clothing. Finally, the last couple of minutes were made with the fashionista complimenting how marvelous Harold looked.
Twilight smiled. She couldn’t wait to see how everything turned out.
Then the sound of hoof steps and footsteps signaled the main event.
Twilight set the magazine down as Rarity was the first to reach the bottom of the stairs. The unicorn cleared her throat and motioned a hoof to the stairs, beaming with pride. “Fillies and gentlecolts!” she started. “It gives me great pleasure to introduce to you all, appearing for the first time ever, the new and improved Harold Gabriel DeMatt!”
As if on cue, Harold walked down the stairs and into the ground floor. Twilight gawked as she saw him in his new outfit, barely even recognizing him at first sight. Harold’s new clothing was comprised of a simple short-sleeved T-shirt, covered over with a long-sleeve jacket. His T-shirt was colored blue with a simple yellow streak running around the neck of the shirt. The yellow streak ran down to the chest where it broke into a circle at the chest area, then ran down to a horizontal stripe near the bottom half of the shirt. It was there where three horizontal yellow streaks decorated that half of the shirt.
His jacket was a bright orange color, with white decorating the collar, the edge of the sleeves and the bottom edge. A rectangular-shaped chest pocket was added in the left side, presumably to tuck his iPod away instead of his pants pocket. His pants were a simple pair of denim jeans, a softer kind of material that soothed most of the scars on his legs. As an added bonus, Rarity even allowed Harold to wear his shoes, despite her pleas to make him a new pair to replace his because of how dirty they were. The only thing different was that Harold wore his shoes without his socks on, since the only pair he wore were going into the wash.
And his backpack was still at Fluttershy’s house.
That was a minor inconvenience.
Still, Harold’s new appearance came to Twilight as a surprise, just like Rarity promised. Seeing the boy in his new clothes certainly blew her mind, like Pinkie Pie’s Party Cannon overstuffed with many party items. In that mind, she saw Harold, shy, timid and friendly all wrapped in one bipedal body and in new colorful clothes. For some reason, Harold’s new appearance brought Twilight’s memory into something hidden, locked deep away inside of her brain. Twilight tried her best to pry that lock away from her brain, but she couldn’t. It was as if looking at Harold alone somehow emitted strange magic towards her, and her alone.
Why was this, she wondered.
“I take it from your speechlessness that you like what you see,” Rarity said, suppressing a giggle from escaping her. “Harold and I worked so hard in coming up with the best combination of colors and design that we were just like jumping fountains of ideas. But then we came up with the perfect clothing and it turned out so well, I was simply ready to burst!”
Harold giggled shyly. “Yeah. We still have the burnt mess in your room to prove it,” he said. “What do you think of my new clothes, Twilight? Twilight?”
In reaction to having her name called out, Twilight snapped back into reality. She shook her head and regained herself, then proceeded to answer the question. “Huh? Oh yeah! Yeah, that looks great on you, Harold!” Twilight said, impressed at the midpoint. “I love the way it turned out on you! It’s like I’m seeing the real you, now! But, umm...”
“Is there something wrong, darling?” Rarity asked.
“No, thee isn’t, Rarity. It’s just...” Twilight hesitated for a moment before she came out with a critical question. “What’s with all the colors?”
“Oh, that. That is an experiment with colors that popped in my head earlier! I call it, 'Emotional Spectrum Fashions!!'” Rarity declared proudly, even putting a hoof onto her chest for good measure. “It’s like taking all of your emotions, all of your personal feelings and turning them all into a matching color! Then we apply that technique into making that clothing and one-two-three, we have a fashion!”
“Don’t you like what we’ve done with it?” Harold asked.
“No, it’s not that,” Twilight answered. “I just wanted to know what the story behind the colors on your new outfit.” Twilight squinted at Harold’s new shirt and new jacket, getting a better observation on the clothes. “But now that I look at it, it really does match your personalities well. But what about the design on your shirt?”
“I came up with half of the design. Well, the top half to be more precise,” Harold said, pointing to the circle in his chest. “I thought to myself if I was going to have a new shirt to express how I’ve felt this past month, I could also show what I’m fighting for.” Harold took the locket from the pile of clothing and placed it around his neck. The locket sat dead center of the circle, revealing his treasure for the whole world to see.
“See?” Harold pointed to the locket. “I came up with the design myself. Rarity thought the other three lines would represent the horizon that I was heading for while I was traveling down the main highway.”
“It’s true,” Rarity said. “And the story of how he got here was intriguing, as well as mysterious.”
“I know. Harold told me all about it too when I had him trapped for our interrogation,” Twilight said. “But nevertheless, you both did a great job with the shirt. It looks like you’ve really outdone yourself this time, Rarity.”
Rarity giggled, waving her hoof down with modesty. “It was nothing, Twilight. I’ve really had much fun with Harold today. I hope we can meet each other again soon enough, darling.”
“I wouldn’t doubt it for the world, Rarity,” Harold replied as he slipped his iPod into his new pocket.
Twilight focused her magic through her horn and opened the door. The lavender alicorn and the young human both walked out of the Carousel Boutique, leaving the door behind them open. As they made their way to the Golden Oaks Library, Rarity stepped out to the door and waved a departing hoof towards them.
“So long, you two! I will see the both of you real soon!” she sang.
Harold and Twilight walked around a street corner until they were out of sight. As soon as Rarity was about to turn and walk back into the boutique, something caught her in the corner of her eye. To her left, standing a good distance away from the building, she saw a trio of ponies eyeing the Carousel Boutique suspiciously and the occupant at the edge of the door. Rarity couldn’t hear what they were saying, but their facial pattern and their mouthing said otherwise. She knew what they were saying.
They were saying stuff about Harold, Princess Twilight, the Carousel Boutique and her.
Rarity watched as the trio turned away while keeping their gossiping faces plastered on. She gasped offendedly and went back into the room, slamming the door behind her. “Those ruffians! How dare they say something like that about Harold behind their back! They should know better than to talk about Harold like that and pass their gossip all over town!” Rarity yelled to herself. “I mean, sure, just because Harold accidentally scared the town earlier doesn’t mean they should talk about him out of fear and disrespect! Of all the most uncouth things I have ever witnessed, that has to possibly be the... MOST... UNCOUTH... THING... EVER!!”
Rarity stamped her hoof in frustration.
Then she spotted the heaping pile of dirty laundry on her worktable.
Harold’s old change of clothing sat on the table, left to rot and fester the beauty of Rarity’s boutique. It was as if the clothes themselves were mocking Rarity of her cleanliness, her persnicketiness and her fear of becoming dirty. Rarity reeled back a little as she looked at the stained, greasy pile of dirty laundry, then sighed with slight disgust.
“Oooooh. I guess it’s time I gave you all a proper scrubbing.”
Rarity turned to get her laundry hamper, her detergent and a hazmat suit from her broom closet.