//------------------------------// // La Mattina Dopo // Story: Where My Heart Lives // by D4ftP0ny //------------------------------// The next morning dawned bright and as clear as the night had been, the unobstructed sun pouring its light eagerly out onto Equestria as it peeked over the edge of the horizon. The golden rays ignited the eastern sky in a brilliant orange blaze that slowly faded to bright blue at the edges and, as the morning’s light spread across Canterlot, it roused both wildlife and citizens alike. Before long the city was alive with the cheerful chirping of birds as they greeted the new day with their flurry of songs. Canterlot did not boast the diversity of animal life that smaller towns like Ponyville did, but birds they had in abundance and their melodies filled the morning air in a myriad of twisting tunes that roused the sleeping ponies of the capital as the morning grew brighter. The trees around Fleur’s home never lacked for avian life and this morning was no exception – in fact, it seemed that today there were even more than usual as the twittering, chirping, and singing of dozens upon dozens of birds filled the air outside and inside the house. One bird, a brilliant crimson cardinal, swooped down and perched lightly upon the sill of one of the many open windows in the house. The cardinal, a proud specimen of a proud species, ruffled his feathers and puffed out his chest importantly before he opened his beak and began to sing his brilliant, clear song. “Fweeet fweeet chir-chir-chir-chir-chirp!” The bird ruffled his wings and cast his shining brown eyes around haughtily, certain that no other bird could match his beautiful call; however, another cardinal from a tree in the neighboring yard echoed his song loudly, with more chirps and a longer fweet. The cardinal felt his feathers puff up of their own accord and without hesitation he drew his chest up and called again. “FWEEEET FWEEEEET chir-chir-chir-chir-chir-chir-chir-CHIRP!” The cardinal tossed his head decisively, the crest of feathers on his head rising importantly as he waited for what surely would be a remorseful response. Seconds later the call rose from the tree across the way, but it was again loud and boastful, with importance and pomp to match the cardinal’s in every respect. Now the bird’s eyes narrowed and with a final, deep breath he drew himself up for a call that would never be forgotten in the history of all bird-kind. “FWEEEEEEEEEET FWEEEEEEEEEEET CHIR-CHIR-CHIR—,” but that was as far as he got. For in the middle of his splendid call an alarm clock flew from the room behind him and impacted him solidly, knocking him out of the window and into the open air with a loud, “Squawk!” The clock and the cardinal plummeted from the window, but in an instant the cardinal’s wings opened and carried him indignantly to the nearest tree; however, the clock had no other choice but to continue on its way to the ground where it bounced once, then twice, before coming to rest in one of the bushes outside of Fleur’s home. From the window through which the clock had flown came a series of dissatisfied and grumpy mumblings as Rarity let out a vexed sigh. “I swear that the birds in Ponyville have more consideration than you do!” She said loudly towards the open window. With a delicate, “Hmmph!” she reached her hooves up to the sleeping mask that she had hastily pushed up to her forehead just below her horn, intent on replacing it over her eyes and going back to sleep. I’m certain that it’s far too early for me to be awake, considering how late I was out last night, she thought groggily. She squinted in the sunlight streaming through her window and to her dismay an insistent, dull throb began to pulse behind her eyes the longer she sat upright. Surely I have more time to sleep this off. She glanced at her nightstand to see what time it was and her face scrunched in irritation as she remembered that the alarm clock that should have resided there had only moments ago been used as an anti-bird projectile. Oh… yes. Well. With no way of knowing exactly what time it was and unwilling to risk sleeping late on a day when she needed to work as much as she could, Rarity shifted to the side of her bed and slid from beneath the succulent sheets out into the open air. She took her first reluctant step towards the vanity across the room and winced as the clop of her hoof against the floor sent a wave of uncomfortable pain throbbing through the front of her head. She hissed through her teeth and raised a hoof to her forehead below her horn as a firm pounding settled in behind her eyes like the bass drum Pinkie Pie played in her one-pony band. “Dear sweet Celestia,” she whispered, confusion mingling with irritation in her voice. “Do I actually have a hangover?” She shook her head in disbelief and immediately regretted it as the throbbing behind her eyes surged in time with the beating of her heart. With a soft squeak Rarity squeezed her eyes shut tight, hoping that doing so would ease the pain. It’s been almost a year since I had a hangover, she thought ruefully. I’ve been very careful ever since that cider-tasting party at Sweet Apple Acres. I suppose I drank a bit more than I thought last night. Suddenly, Rarity’s eyes flew back open and in spite of her pounding headache a broad smile burst onto her lips as the memories of the night before flooded back into her pain-crowded mind. Last night! The restaurant, with Octavia! The unicorn giggled and reared up on her hind legs, kicking her forelegs happily. I… I actually did it! I can hardly believe it! I… Suddenly her exuberant laughter turned into a sickly groan in the back of her throat and Rarity hastily dropped back to all four hooves as the entire room began to spin around her. All right, Rarity… no more celebrating like THAT for now, she thought as she quickly covered her mouth with a hoof, the taste of bile rising in her throat. A more sedate celebration is in order… and perhaps a cup of coffee. Despite the pain in her head and the nausea in her stomach, Rarity could not deny the bubble of ecstatic excitement that her recollection of the night before had blown up in her chest. With a softer, more subdued giggle the unicorn headed for the door of her room, intent on telling her hostess all about what had happened over breakfast, but as she hurried past the vanity she caught a glimpse of her mane in the mirror and its sorry state caused her to slam to a halt in horror. It was a sight to behold and looked as though one of the birds that had woken her had made its nest there for three seasons in a row. “Oh my stars,” she muttered, touching her frazzled curls with a hoof. The brush that sat atop the vanity lit up with blue magic and levitated forward to hover in front of Rarity, who gave her unruly hairstyle a firm glare as she pulled her sleeping mask off with a hoof. “Breakfast will have to wait until I have put you back where you belong!” ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Several pain-filled minutes later, Rarity shut the door behind her as she turned right out into the hallway outside her room, her mane finally back in its perfectly combed curls after a prolonged and painful battle. The unicorn wiped one last tear away from her eye as she descended the stairs in the home’s impressive foyer, then turned right into the northern hallway as her head throbbed from the violent brushing she’d had to employ. Drinking is bad for my hair, apparently, she thought ruefully as she made her way down the long hallway at the front of the house. Perhaps if you intend to make a habit of this you should keep a hairnet nearby, Rarity, that way you can complete your transformation into a true drunken sophisticate… honestly, that is the LAST time I drink in such a fashion! She sighed in vexation as she made her way to the very end of the hallway. Fleur had few clocks in the more public areas of her home, so Rarity still had no idea what time it truly was, but the smells of all things breakfast wafted down the hallway at her from the single swinging door at the end and that was enough for Rarity. Without a moment’s hesitation she pushed the door open and entered yet another of the spectacular rooms in Fleur de Lis’ home. Fleur had two large, beautiful areas at either end of her home: at the southern end, she had her gorgeous library and reading room with its walls full of books and, at the northern end, she had the only other room to rival the library’s brilliance: the dining room. The décor was simple and clean with two sets of large windows that lined the pristine eggshell walls and stacked atop one another from the warm honey-colored pine floor that gleamed in the morning sunlight to the high vaulted ceiling lined with white crown molding and, as Rarity allowed the door to swing shut behind her, she felt some of her irritation ease. There was, after all, nothing that soothed the designer’s ire quite like being in a place of beauty. And Fleur’s home is nothing if not a never-ending supply of beautiful spaces, Rarity reflected. The morning sun streamed in through the large windows, its rays caressing the crystalline chandelier that hung from the ceiling, the twin of the one in the library. Its many-faceted hanging crystals bent the light and sent bright beams shooting off into the darker corners of the room and Rarity couldn’t help but stare at it for a moment before smiling and allowing her eyes to fall back to the rest of the room. The furniture in Fleur’s dining room, from the main dining table and chairs that sat in the center to the smaller tables and chairs that sat along the windows, were all made of beautifully polished oak wood that contrasted perfectly with the light wood of the floor. The room was not set for a fancy dinner or a party, but, nevertheless, the main table was adorned with a large centerpiece: a brightly polished silver vase sat proudly in the middle of the table, full of masterfully arranged flowers, feathers, and bits of the various trees around Fleur’s home, all tied together with a few perfectly twisted ribbons. It was an arrangement that screamed “summer” to anypony who looked at it and it seemed to brighten the already bright room just a bit more, even if it was a good deal larger than something Rarity would have designed herself. Less is more in occasions such as this, Rarity reflected as she gazed at the enormous conglomeration – it was wide enough that several seats were hidden from view entirely and tall enough that it seemed to be competing with the chandelier for dominance of the room. The unicorn’s eyes darted first to one side of the room and then to the other, seeking the other mare with whom she shared the house, but Fleur was nowhere to be seen. At least, she was nowhere that Rarity could see from the door. The designer arched a critical eyebrow at the centerpiece, her lips set in a thin, judgmental line. If a decoration hides a large portion of guests from the host’s view, it is NOT a good centerpiece, Rarity reflected before she turned smartly and started around the left side of the table, hoping that Fleur was on the other side. The table was set modestly with several serving trays of eggs, pancakes, alfalfa strips, and the little honey seedcakes that Rarity was fond of nibbling. The smells of those foods and, perhaps more importantly, the smell of coffee that she had detected from the hallway engulfed her and caused her stomach to growl enthusiastically. Well, I’m certain I can tell the story while we eat! Fleur certainly won’t mind, I’m sure! As Rarity moved around the side of the table, Fleur slid into view from behind the centerpiece, her smile warm as she greeted Rarity with a wave. “Good morning, Rarity,” she said. “I hope you slept well.” Rarity let out a laugh, but it was more resignation than mirth. “Aah ha… as well as could be expected, I suppose,” answered Rarity softly, her hooves carrying her slowly around the table. “But my sleep experience aside, I have some intriguing news to share with you!” Her voice bubbled with excitement and she couldn’t keep herself from giggling despite the steady throbbing in her head. The other unicorn smiled, but to her surprise it wasn’t Fleur’s voice that answered her, instead it was a deeper, masculine voice with a chipper, clipped accent that spoke into the silence. “For not sleeping well, you’re in a rather jolly mood for this time of the morning, Rarity!” Usually Fleur was alone when Rarity came down to breakfast, always rising earlier than the designer felt was absolutely necessary to prepare for the day, but today as the unicorn rounded the table, and could finally see past the enormous centerpiece, she saw that Fleur had a guest – the dapper, monocle-clad figure of Fancy Pants, the stallion who had so generously helped Rarity with her shop in Canterlot. Rarity’s spirits lifted even higher than before and her smile grew in kind. “Fancy Pants! What a wonderful surprise! I had no idea you were going to be here today!” The white unicorn stallion gave her a winning smile and brushed his blue mane out of his face with a hoof, pausing just long enough to straighten his fashionable moustache before placing his hoof back to the table. “I do apologize if I startled you. Did Fleur not inform you that I occasionally just pop by to say hello?” “She did not, as a matter of fact,” said Rarity as she slid into a seat on Fleur’s right. “Not that it’s a problem, Fancy – I’m always glad to see you, even if it is–” she glanced at the windows then back to the stallion, “–earlier than I’d expected.” “And the feeling is mutual, even if you’d rather not be awake just yet,” he said with a smile. Fancy Pants lifted his left hoof from the table and reached out to run his foreleg over the back of the fluffy white cat that sat atop the table next to him. “I’m equally glad that Opal doesn’t seem to mind my presence, either!” Opalescence, Rarity’s notoriously ill-tempered feline, simply purred and arched her back into the affectionate touch, her muzzle never leaving her silver dish as she lapped at what looked to Rarity to be thick cream. Rarity’s eyes widened as Fancy Pants gave her luscious coat several long, unhurried strokes before returning his hoof back to the table, undamaged and entirely whole. “Opal… she…” Rarity pointed with a hoof and felt her mouth open once or twice in disbelief. “She let you… touch her?” Fancy Pants arched an eyebrow at Fleur before turning a confident smile to Rarity. “Well, yes of course. Is there any reason she wouldn’t?” “IS there?!” Rarity shook her head slowly. “Normally she’d have all but taken your hoof off! Even I still get claws as often as purrs!” Admitted Rarity, her eyes glued to the seemingly bottomless enigma that was her cat. “I can’t recall her ever taking so well to anypony so quickly.” “That’s what I told him,” agreed Fleur as she levitated her fork off the table. “I still can’t approach her without getting hissed at.” The fork moved to her plate and began shifting food around as Fleur smiled at Rarity again. “She hissed at Fancy Pants, and I warned him against touching her, but… well, you know Fancy.” A portion of scrambled eggs floated up on the fork, and the very sight of food made Rarity’s stomach growl loudly. “He simply went to Opal, chided her gently for such ‘unladylike behavior’, and scooped her up with the promise of food.” “Simple as that, my dear,” Fancy assured her with a wink. “I suppose I just have a certain way with delicate ladies.” He turned and extended his hoof to Opal again, who actually left her bowl of cream and sauntered her way to him, her white fur pillowing against his hoof as she rubbed against him. “Isn’t that right, Opal?” The cat rubbed against him and let out a satisfied meow before turning to Rarity with a smug grin. Delicate ladies, is it? Rarity thought as her cat turned for another round of petting. Perhaps it’s cantankerous, finicky felines he has a certain way with… “But enough about Opal,” said Fleur, “Its breakfast time and you don’t want these delicious eggs to get cold.” She gestured to the food laid out before them. “Eat up! And once we’re done, you can tell us all about what kept you out so late last night.” Rarity’s eyes widened and Fleur gave her a wink. “Oh yes, I heard you come in, Rarity, and I must say that the uneven hoofsteps I heard on the stairs deserve an explanation.” Rarity blushed beneath Fleur’s words and without thinking she opened her mouth to respond, but the other mare simply raised a hoof and gave her a knowing, big sisterly smile. “Ah ah, Rarity – breakfast first, explanations after!” Rarity’s mouth snapped shut of its own accord and after a moment she nodded, certain that her face was as brilliantly red as the roses in the centerpiece. I should have known that Fleur would still be awake when I came home, the unicorn thought as she levitated her plate to the platters full of food. But it’s not like anything happened. I mean, I had dinner with a client and learned more about her. We had a few social drinks, and I came home a bit tipsy, that’s all! She shifted in her seat and felt her ears droop slightly as her brow furrowed. But if that’s all, then why do I feel like I got caught with my hoof in the cookie jar? With a few deft maneuvers with her magic, Rarity filled her plate with eggs, two pancakes, and a small serving of alfalfa strips before bringing the delicate china plate sailing back to her, where it landed gently on the table before her. The blue of her magic leaped from the plate to the fork next to it and, after a moment’s hesitation, she lifted it off the table. Her eyes darted to Fancy Pants and Fleur as she argued with herself, her attention only half on her fork as her magic moved it. I really don’t think that I should wait to tell them exactly why I was late and… compromised last night, she thought. But then again, Fleur did say breakfast first. After several heartbeats of indecision Rarity sat up straighter in her chair, determination settling in her eyes. No. No, I shan’t wait a moment longer – they should know why I was late. She opened her mouth to begin speaking, the words that would exonerate her at the tip of her tongue, but before they could come rushing out, her fork full of eggs rushed in, filling her mouth with the soft, warm fluffiness that only perfectly cooked scrambled eggs can have. Her eyes widened in surprise, but only for a moment. As soon as she began to chew the eggs, the words that had seemed so important seconds before seemed to mean less than nothing as her whole body relaxed. Oh my stars! These are simply divine! Her stomach growled again and, this time, she swore that there was an appreciative tone to it. Very well then, she told her cacophonous organ as she chewed happily. We’ll wait until breakfast is finished. Her magic lit up the handle of the coffee pot that sat next to her and poured the hot liquid into her waiting cup. The earthy, invigorating scent quickly filled Rarity’s head and chased the throbbing away, driving it back into the abyss from whence it had come. Fleur was mostly right, she reflected. The order must be coffee first and explanations later. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ “She was very kind, even after I so clearly made a fool out of myself,” said Rarity as she gestured with her fork, her eyes darting from Fleur to Fancy Pants and back again. “She put the whole meal on her tab – she has a TAB at a restaurant of that caliber – and we left, saying our goodbyes before parting ways in the street.” The unicorn shook her head and let her fork drop back to the tabletop next to her empty plate where it clattered loudly on the wooden table, the utensil missing the white placemat beneath Rarity’s plate entirely. Breakfast had been delicious, but Rarity had admittedly eaten much faster than she did normally so that she could begin telling her friends about the events of the night before. She couldn’t even recall the taste of the eggs or pancakes she’d eaten less than a half an hour ago. In fact, as she had told her story, the sweet, tangy taste of the sushi she’d eaten the night before had invaded her mouth, every sip of her now lukewarm coffee reminded her pointedly of the warm sake she’d had at the White Lily, and a pair of brilliant purple eyes leaped into her mind at the very thought of either of them. “We had a very nice evening, truth be told, even if some of the details have become a bit vague to me this morning.” Next to her Fleur set her own fork down, her plate now empty as well. “It sounds as though you had a very eventful evening,” the other unicorn remarked. “And this is the same Octavia that has monopolized your thoughts in the past week, correct?” “YES, and she’s ever so much more than I thought she was!” Rarity lifted her coffee cup and took a sip, heedless of its less than ideal temperature as her eyes turned to the window. “I mean, I never would have dreamed that she had such a complicated life! And I can’t imagine what it must be like to have a family divided in such a fashion.” She gave her head a slow, gentle shake. “She’s so strong, Fleur. I can’t imagine…” The unicorn took another sip of her coffee as she stared at the window. She could picture Octavia now, sitting across from her at the table – her hooves crossed before her, her eyes watching every move Rarity made with the precision of a premier socialite… “Octavia, Octavia… yes, I remember her,” Fancy Pants said as he pushed his own plate away. He turned in his chair to face Rarity and Fleur more squarely as he gestured with his hoof. “She was that delightful mare who played the cello at my Garden Party last year, along with the rest of her quartet.” “Indeed she was,” said Rarity, “and she played the Gala two years ago when I attended with my friends and had my–” she shuddered, “–fiasco with Prince Blueblood.” The mare gave a deep sigh and her ears drooped almost to her mane. “To think I was that close to her and I can’t even remember listening to her play…” The thought drew a dark shadow across Rarity’s heart and to her surprise she realized that she felt absolutely horrid about not being able to truthfully tell Octavia that she remembered her playing. Well that’s just silly, Rarity, she told herself firmly. You had so much going on both those nights – what with the Gala being ruined and Fancy’s party being such a complicated affair thanks to your desire to be in two places at once – it’s a wonder you remember HALF of the things that you do about either event! Rarity sighed again and set her empty coffee cup down onto the table. But if that’s true then why do I feel so dreadful about it? “Why the frown, my dear?” Fancy Pants’ voice drew her from her reverie and back to the waking world. Rarity blinked quickly and gave her head a tiny shake before turning it back to the stallion, who gave her a reassuring smile. “Come now, Rarity. Surely you’re not… what’s the phrase? Beating yourself up over this?” The stallion levitated his own coffee cup up off the table until it hovered before him, his eyes warm and kind as he met Rarity’s gaze. “From what little I learned about her last year, Octavia is not a pony who is going to hold the fact that you can’t remember her playing against you. In fact, I have the feeling that if anything she would tell you that if you remembered her playing, then she wasn’t doing her job correctly.” Now Rarity’s ears perked back up even as her brow crinkled into a frown. “And why is that?” she asked as Fancy sipped his coffee and, after several long seconds of watching the stallion savor his drink, he sighed softly and smiled at her. “It’s very simple,” said Fancy as he gently set his cup back to the table. “In that kind of atmosphere, a musician such as Octavia would feel that it was her duty to blend in with the environment. If you will, it was her task to perform perfect mood music for the party and if everypony remembered the music, it would mean that something was odd about it to them.” He shrugged. “Not remembering details about the music means that she played the perfect tempo, tonality, and temperament for that particular party. At least, that’s what many of my guests have told me over the years.” “It’s true,” Fleur agreed as she levitated her plate onto Fancy’s then onto Rarity’s before moving them to the end of the table with her magic. “I can tell you that when I’m modeling or doing a runway show the music can’t be too invasive, but neither can it be too restrained. If it’s too loud, too soft, or doesn’t fit the mood in some way, the entire performance by the models will be forgotten by the audience and the only thing that they’ll remember was the awful musical choice.” “Ponies tend to latch on to the bad here in Canterlot, Rarity,” Fancy noted with a shake of his head. “It’s a sad fact of our capital, but there it is. So again, the fact that you don’t remember would probably be taken as a compliment.” “But…” Rarity sighed and shook her head. “But that doesn’t change the fact that I WANT to hear her play. I want to be able to tell her what I thought of her music, to converse with her about her profession in a more personal manner.” Her ears drooped slightly again. “Is that so much to ask?” Fancy Pants and Fleur shared a glance and Rarity frowned at the unseen communication that passed between them. Rarity liked to think that she knew this pair well enough, but they had been friends long before either of them had met Rarity and sometimes it felt as though they had no need for cumbersome words to transmit their thoughts and emotions to one another. A singularly irritating thought, reflected Rarity as her companions turned back to her, their expressions full of shared knowing. After all, what chance does a mere mare like me have against a telepathic duo as suave as these two? “I suppose the best answer to your question is a simple no,” Fleur answered with a quirk of her lips. “It’s not too much to ask and the answer is quite a simple one: you need to hear her play during a concert.” “A concert?” mused Rarity. “That would certainly solve the problem, but I thought you just said that musicians prided themselves on blending in and not being noticed?” “Aaaah, they’re not always so modest.” Fancy chuckled lightly, the motion causing his mustaches to bounce merrily on his nose. “A musician at an event that is not purely about music will certainly take pride in blending in, but a musician in a concert that is all about the music and those who play it?” He pointed at Rarity with a hoof and winked. “THAT is the time when you will hear what they are truly capable of.” Fleur levitated a glistening pitcher of orange juice across the table to her, the condensation on its outside glittering like gems in the morning sunlight. “And that goes doubly if you can listen to her play solo,” she agreed as she carefully poured herself a glass of the soft orange liquid. “No musician shines brighter than when she puts her soul on display, the gleaming beacon of her innermost self awash in the brilliant lights of the stage.” Fancy Pants smiled brightly. “Very nicely put, my dear – I couldn’t have said it better myself.” “Thank you, Fancy,” said Fleur with a nod. “Hmmmmmmm…” Rarity tapped her lower lip with a hoof pensively, her mind whirring with possibilities. “I suppose actually listening to her play would solve my problems, there’s no doubt about that, but how to do it? I mean, I suppose I could ask her to play for me at the Boutique but that would…” she trailed off as her thoughts churned furiously and into the silence came Fleur’s voice. “…but that would be a bit too direct for your taste?” she teased, and Rarity shot her a flat glare. “NO, Fleur, it would be… beneath her, I feel.” Rarity sat back and shook her head in defeat. “I couldn’t simply ask her to play there because I would feel awful doing so. She is a musician of the highest caliber and I would think it incredibly rude to ask her to play in such a place.” Fancy Pants took the pitcher of juice from next to Fleur and poured himself a glass. “Well, what about practicing?” Rarity frowned again. “Practicing? What of it?” “Well, she must practice somewhere, correct? You said yourself that none of her friends have been to her home, so it is safe to assume that a quartet with such large instruments must practice somewhere that could hold them all comfortably.” The stallion took a sip of his juice. “And if she is as detail-oriented as you claim she is, she would want the acoustics to be proper for their practice, so...” “…so that means that they MUST practice at a concert hall!” Rarity exclaimed as she sat up straight and thumped her hooves onto the table in excitement. “And a concert hall is somewhere that I can get into with no problems, I’m certain, and THEN I’ll get to see her play! Oh Fancy Pants you’re a genius!” “I’m glad to see that she likes the idea,” he muttered to Fleur, who giggled lightly under her breath. Rarity’s eyes blazed with determination as she slid out of her chair, pausing only long enough to push it in before hurrying for the door. “I’ll ask her about where she practices when I see her in two days. Oh, thank you both so much for listening and for helping me,” she gushed. “I truly do appreciate it, but if you’ll excuse me I have quite a lot of dresses to make before my next meeting with the cellist!” She paused only long enough to toss a hurried “Au revoir!” over her shoulder before vanishing through the swinging door. Fancy Pants and Fleur listened to her hoofsteps hurry down the hall. The front door opened and closed and the dull, wooden thumping turned into a crisp, sharp clopping as Rarity moved out into the street at almost a full gallop, her mane and tail blowing in the breeze as the duo watched her dart down the street towards her shop. The stallion let out a sigh of relief and allowed his shoulders to slump. “I suppose I should be glad that she caught on to the idea so quickly,” he said with a smile at his companion. “It can be dreadfully difficult to steer that mare onto the right course once she’s decided that she’s lost her way.” The stallion reached out and began to caress Opal again, who had simply curled up onto the table next to him and gone to sleep after her saucer of cream was finished. “I most certainly agree,” said Fleur, but her smile was warm as she watched Rarity vanish around the corner at the end of the street. “She can be terribly bull-headed, but she is tenacious to a fault, our Rarity, and it’s clear that she cares for this Octavia very much.” She gave Fancy Pants a knowing smile and as he returned it, a gentle ringing sound tickled Fleur’s ears. Her smile melted slowly into a frown and her ear twitched jerkily as the ringing continued. “Do you hear that?” she asked quietly. “I do… where do you suppose it’s coming from?” Fancy mused, his own ears twitching as he searched the room. Outside the windows of the dining area, one of the ponies in charge of landscaping Fleur’s lawn hurried to one of the bushes just off the house and, with a look of profound confusion, he pulled a ringing alarm clock from its leafy depths. “Well will you look at that,” he muttered to himself as he turned the clock off with a hoof. “I’ve never seen a thyme-keeper before…”