Meanderings

by Merc the Jerk

Chapter 1

Rarity lay on her couch, despairing. This wasn’t one of her practice despairs, this was the genuine article. She was missing an emerald required for a dress for an important client, and despite the rain outside she had donned galoshes and a coat and braved the elements, going out to speak to every jeweler and salesman in town. They happily offered rubies and sapphires, but there wasn’t a green stone to be found.

From there she had at least tried to take her car to the next town over, but her tire had got a blowout, leading to a miserable experience in the rain and mud as she waited for her father to come and change her tire. Then, to top the whole afternoon off, the store she went to didn't even have one. Rarity was sure there were worse things in the world than tracking through filth on a pointless endeavor, but the only one she could think of, at the moment, was not having a dress finished for a client. Since today seemed to promise both, Rarity felt safe in settling in for a nice evening of self-pity.

Suddenly, the door burst open, and the silhouette of a tall, stetson-clad woman reared in the doorway. The woman charged forward a few steps into the boutique, tracking mud and spraying rainwater from her coat as she gave a small shake of the clothing.

Rarity sighed. She couldn’t even find it in herself to admonish her friend. A muddy, wet floor was simply the perfect accent to her wretched day.

But the woman was grinning. “Heya, Rarity. Heard ya’ needed help?”

“No. I am beyond help. I’m in the process of wasting away to obscurity, if you don’t mind.”

“Cause of that gemstone?”

“Yes. For want of an emerald, my fashion empire is lost.” The tailor delivered the line with carefully practiced emotion, resting the back of her hand on her forehead. She remembered something similar from a book, and had tucked it away for just such an occasion.

The woman scratched her dark cheek, obviously unsure what Rarity meant. “Well, uh, I dunno where to start lookin’ for your lost empire thingy, but I got an emerald.”

Rarity’s eyes lit up, she snapped instantly to a sit, then rose to her feet. “You do? Really? Oh, Jack, you are my hero!”

Jack's mouth quirked into a small, embarrassed smile.“Funny you should say that. I wouldn’t go givin’ this emerald to anybody, it’s kinda special.” She took off her stetson, giving it a brush, before donning it over her thick blonde hair once more. “I dunno if ya remember, but somebody gave it to me a long time ago, when we were jus' a pair-a kids. I wasn’t ever gonna give it away... but I reckon it’s right to give it back to her, if she needs it. So...” She reached into her breast pocket, pulling out a brilliant emerald stone and dropping it into Rarity's palm.

The shorter woman's mouth fell open. “Jack... I—I don’t know what to say.”

She let out a snort of laughter and gave Rarity a slight slap on the arm. “Ya don’t gotta say nothin’. Just get your dress done and stop worryin’, alright?” She grinned. “Worryin' is hell on the complexion I hear. No need fer ya ta have ta put more makeup on.”

Rarity was too distracted by the gift in her hand to do anything but give a passive response to the slight jab. “Yes. Yes, of course.” She finally turned her gaze away from the gem and looked up at Jack's face serenely. “Darling, I can’t tell you how much this means to me. Honestly, everything...”

“That's a better look for ya. I like yer smile. Prettiest one in town.” She gave a wave of her hand and turned, stepping away. “I'm glad I could help. Now, if you’ll ‘scuse me, I gotta be gettin’ back ta the farm. Lord knows what Alice is gettin' into without me or Mac 'round. Just wanted to get that to you lickity split, so you could stop wastin’ away.”

“Thank you.”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled. “Anytime, sug. Anythin' ta stop ya from bawlin' all over the damn place.”

Before Rarity could retort, Jack stepped out, walking through the front door and out into the cold rain.

Rarity watched the door for a moment, before tsking, moving to the closet and getting a mop. She cleaned up the mud the farmer had drug in, then moved back to the couch, rolling the emerald in the palms of her hands, examining it from different angles.

The years hadn't dulled it in the slightest. If anything, it almost seemed more impressive. The light made it sparkle and twinkle with every turn of her fingers, even more so than the premium gems she tended to use in her tailoring business. Its immersible green captivated her and she stared at it, its color reminding her of something. Something familiar, almost intimately so.

Something...

It came to her.

It was the same color as a certain farmer's eyes.

Rarity smiled. That was part of the reason why she gave Jack an emerald of all things, all those years ago.

Still holding a pleased grin, she placed the gem on the coffee table by her sofa and decided to retire for the evening.

A quick run upstairs to remove her contacts, brush her teeth, and change into a daring cream-colored neglige of her own design, and she was ready for bed. Letting out a dainty yawn, she killed the lights and sauntered over to her bed, crawling into the covers. Despite the blankets, she shivered, briefly surprised at the chill the rain had brought into the house. A brief longing for the warmth of someone sleeping next to her elected a sigh from the tailor, before she reached to nightstand and fetched her sleeping mask from on top of a romance novel that had peeked her interest, of a rugged game hunter and a widower that lived on the outskirts of town with a collection of animals.

Donning the mask, she let out a sigh of contentment, snuggling a pillow next to her, but still unable to sleep. She was just so excited to work tomorrow—that emerald complemented the dress so well it should be a criminal offense to wear it.

Finally, sleep came, taking away the thoughts of her livelihood and passion like a thief in the night.

Rarity was full of confidence as she walked into the Mansfield schoolyard the day after the school play. The other girls had been thrilled with the costumes she and her mother had created for the show, and the after-party she hosted had been a good time for all. Girls smiled at her and waved, and she could see a few boys watching her from where they played in the sandlots, and she graciously smiled back to everyone.

She picked a spot by the door to wait for the schoolhouse to open, where she could see and be seen, and gave her hair a proud little fluff. As expected, some of the other girls came over and they began a giggling conversation about how Ms. Cheerilee was seen with a suitor last night.

Rarity was so enamored with their conversation that she didn’t even notice the boys getting rowdy, until one jumped into a mud puddle right in front of her, splattering her white dress with mud.

“Ah!” Rarity yelled, shocked. The other backed backed up, and the offender, a wafer-thin boy the others called 'Lucky,' just grinned.

“Sorry,” he said, though Rarity doubted the apologies sincerity.

Rarity gestured down to her muddy dress. “It is not okay! Look at what you did to me! I’m all messy!”

Lucky got a gleam in his eye, and raised a foot, as if he was going to splash her again.

“Don’t you dare!”

He brought the foot down, but it didn’t land in the puddle, because a streak of blonde came out of nowhere and pushed him tumbling to the ground a few feet away.

“Now what’d I tell you ‘bout pickin’ on the girls? Thought ya’ could get away with it, since I wasn’t here?” Jack said, moving to the boy and casually putting a foot on his shirt, pinning him underneath her.

He blanched, opening and closing his mouth. “I- I- I was just about go. . . over there!” he said frantically, gesturing towards the baseball field. “A-away from the girls!”

“Sounds like a plan. Let’s go play.” Jack stepped back, letting Lucky get to his hands and knees. He stood, then all but ran off to the other side of the schoolyard. Jack smiled at Rarity. “Sorry if they been botherin’ ya’. Seems like ya give 'em an inch and they take a mile. I’ll keep ‘em in line here on out.”

“Thank you.” Rarity said with a smile, grateful for Jack's assistance. The blonde girl wasn’t a friend, per se, her father and Jack's father however, conducted business on occasion and were part of a poker group. Rarity knew of Jack because of this, but never really connected with the girl, what with Jack spending most of her free time playing with the boys instead. One thing Jack was known for, however, was being a bit of a guardian to the girls at school. She was tougher than most of the boys in fourth grade, and could even stand toe-to-toe with a fifth grader in baseball. She used her surprisingly potent athletic skills to their fullest, stopping bullies dead in their tracks, no matter who was being teased.

Rarity wasn’t sure if it was that reason, or something else that always drew her eye to Jack when she took a moment to watch the boys play their games. She had noticed Jack, always kind, always fair, always ready to defend or help people who couldn't stand on their own two feet. Rarity had read a lot of storybooks, full of daring knights and beautiful princesses, and tried to decide which of the boys might one day be her prince charming. It was odd, but the only one who showed even the slightest potential in her eye was the tall, green-eyed girl.

But Jack was a girl, and in no way a princess. Rarity had never been sure what to do with this information. Could a girl be a prince? If anybody could do that, it was Jack. Rarity felt a small tinge of heat at her face, and smiled warmly at the thought of Jack, sitting tall and looking not necessarily pretty, but handsome as she sat on a horse, offering a pure-white glove down to Rarity, then lifting her up easily behind her, and galloping together through a flower-filled meadow, Rarity sitting side-saddle as they traveled and resting her cheek against Jack's strong back.

She put her hands to her cheeks and felt her smile turn almost goofy at how wide it had grown and she gave a small shake, banishing the thoughts away.

Maybe it didn't happen often, a girl being a prince. Maybe it took even more commitment and nobility. Not everyone got to be the prince, after all. But Jack... there had to be a way to test her.

Rarity's let a sigh out as a plan hatched in her brain. She had a great idea on how she could test the girl. All it would take would be a little creativity...

“Heya, Rarity,” Jack called out, approaching the girl as she stood on the asphalt.

“There you are,” the girl answered, meeting Jack in the middle. “I thought you might not be coming.”

“Ya said you were wantin' ta play. I had ta tell the guys to start kickball without me.” She grinned, brushing a thumb across her nose. “So, what are we doin'? Basketball? Teatherball?” Pausing, she noticed Rarity's skirt. “Uh... hopscotch?” the blonde guessed.

Rarity looked down, prodding her index fingers together abashedly. She mumbled something out, a hint of red at her cheeks.

“Come again?” Jack asked with a tilt of her head.

“P-Princes and Dragons,” she answered, trying to keep confident.

“Can't say I know the game.” Jack scratched her chin. “'Less it's that board game Mac an' his friends do from time ta time with the dice an' stuff. Didn't think you were the type.”

“I have no clue what you mean.” Hesitating, she moved her hand, retreated it, then brought it forward, taking Jack's dark palm in her own. “I'll show you!” she blurted out, turning and heading towards the playground's jungle gym. Letting go of Jack's hand, she moved through the bars, putting herself inside the dome.

“So...” the blonde trailed off, staring at Rarity. “How do ya...?”

“You have to rescue me,” she answered, as if it was self-explanatory. “I've been captured. You're the prince. Come on, Jack. It's simple.”

She continued staring at Rarity. The violet-haired girl shuffled on her feet under Jack's continued gaze.

“I dunno 'bout this game,” Jack remarked. Rarity froze, afraid she had been found out, before Jack continued. “Can't ya get yerself out of there? I mean, ya put yerself insid—“

“I want you to get me out,” she curtly interrupted, her shyness taking a backseat for the moment in exasperation. “That's what princes do, after all. They save maidens.”

Jack looked down at her overalls. “I reckon they do,” she agreed. “Guess if Mac can play a girl cleric in that one game, I can do a prince here.”

Rarity giggled, her azure eyes sparkling in pleasure. “That's the spirit.”

Crossing her arms, Jack looked at the jungle gym. “So who's the dragon?”

“What?”

“The game's princes and dragons. Where's the dragon?”

She froze, biting her lip. “Er... that is a... uh...”

A bubbly voice called out across the playground. “Right here!”

Jack and Rarity looked over in surprise. There stood a short girl with poofy pink hair and an almost impossibly wide smile. “I love that game. People always say 'be the prince,' and I'm all like, 'No way, hosay! Who doesn't wanna be a fire breathing, town stomping dragon of awesomeness?!'” She growled, giving a small stomp.

“Uh...” Jack dumbly trailed off.

“That's good timing, er, Diane, was it?” Rarity questioned.

“That's my name! I also accept Pinkie, 'hey you!' and 'you!'” She put her hand to her chin. “Those last two seem really popular around here for some reason.”

“Well, yer the new kid. People might not know your name yet,” Jack offered. “Give it some time.”

“But you're agreeing to be the dragon, correct?” Rarity asked, bringing her on task.

“Yeppers!” She pulled her lips back in a bad imitation of a snarl. “Grayyyah! You're not rescuing her today, prince! There's no way you can stop me!”

Diane stepped between the two and flexed her hand into claws.

“Oh! Help!” Rarity cried out dramatically, doing her best to feign a swoon.

Jack looked between the two, scratching the back of her head.

“Don't worry, uh, princess. I'll take care-a this... foul monster... lickity-split.”

The blonde girl put her hand into a fist, pointed an index finger at Diane, and raised her thumb. “Bang! Bang!” she loudly announced.

“What?!” Rarity exclaimed. “Princes don't use guns! They have a sword and armor! And a horse!” she added.

“Why can't I have a gun?” Jack argued. “This here Pinkie girl gets fire breath an' wings outta the deal!”

“I have wings?!” Pinkie asked gleefully. “I thought that was totally wyverns that had the wings!” With a blur of speed, she climbed to the top of the jungle gym. “Gonna take off!” she announced to them, leaping.

Jack sat in front of the school's nurse's office, skimming through an automotive magazine. She stole a glance over to Rarity. “So, uh...” she began. “Was Diane expectin' one of us to catch her, or...?”

Rarity looked up from her own Cosmopolitan magazine. “Well, she sure didn't think she could fly.” A pause, then a less certain, “maybe.”

The nurse's door swung open and Pinkie skipped out, bandages on her face and hands.

“I got scolded,” she said in a sing-song, giving each of them a wave. “Thanks for waiting on me! It's nice of you guys!” Reaching forward, she decided on a hug instead of a wave, giving each of them a quick squeeze. “I have a feeling we're gonna be the best of friends!”

Jack chuckled, relieved the girl sprang back so quick from the fall. Diane looked down at her watch and loudly gasped, clutching the side of her face in panic.

“We should have been in class ten minutes ago!” Pinkie exclaimed. She turned, looking as if she was going to dart off at a dead sprint, and launched forward, her dash turning into a casual skip down the hall. Bouncing around a corner, Jack and Rarity looked at one another for a wordless beat.

“Girl's a lil' weird, huh?” she offered.

“Less weird, perhaps, more... unique?” Rarity remarked.

“Unique. Sure, we'll go with that.” Rising, Jack rubbed at her face. “Guess we'd better head back too, huh?”

“I—“ Rarity caught herself. A devious, coy smile graced her lips. “Are you sure?”

Tilting her head, Jack cocked a brow. “Did you not hear Diane? Recess is kinda over.”

“A lady knows to not overindulge things. It leads to wrinkles,” Rarity remarked as she lifted a finger, her stance making it seem like she was quoting some great philosopher or prophet, rather than advice she probably obtained from a fashion magazine. “So I say we forgo the idea completely.”

Jack paused. “Yer suggestin'...?”

“Yes. We skip.” She bridged her fingers together. “We simply return during the basketball team's practice after school to collect our belongings.”

“I dunno, Rare...” Jack dubiously replied. “We could get caught.”

“Where's your sense of adventure?” Rarity rose, giving a small twirl in the hall. “Besides, I'm sure I can make up a respectable excuse for us.”

“I don't like lyin',” she countered, glancing to the ground. “We don't do that in my family unless it's really important.”

“Who's lying? I really do need a bit of a respite, as it were.”

Jack bit at her lip, thinking. Finally, she gave a defeated sigh.

“This was all your idea.”

Rarity laughed. “Every jot of ink and scratch of pen.”

On seeing Jack's blank expression, Rarity gave a sigh of her own. “Yes. This was all my idea, if anybody asks.”

“Now yer talkin' sense,” Jack answered, standing.

They snuck out during next period's recess. The fifth graders. It was a harrowing experience for Rarity, having so many larger and imposing figures around watching her with a raised brow. Jack was quick to step between them and Rarity, a stern frown their way made even the meanest, most gruesome son of a gun hesitate on approaching them.

Rarity looked down at her hands and smiled. It wasn't hard at all, imagining Jack as a prince, guarding her princess through a rough, wild part of town, a sword—no, a spear, a gallant, shining weapon that gleamed in the late afternoon light that peaked through the run-down hovels and shops—clutched in her hand as she escorted Rarity through the tightly packed streets. Rarity reached forward, taking a strand of Jack's beautiful blonde hair and curling it in her fingers.

“Rarity,” she spoke tenderly to her princess. “Somethin' the matter?”

“Nothing that can't be fixed by you,” Princess Rarity replied, smiling at her dashing prince.

Jack let out a bit of a forced chuckle. “Well, I was gonna complain 'bout ya braidin' my hair back there, but I guess if yer wantin' ta do it...”

Rarity's daydream vanished. She let out a startled gasp, dropping the girl's hair from her fingertips as Jack chuckled once more.

“Like my mop?” she teased, looking behind her to Rarity and giving the thick mess a shake.

“Yes,” Rarity replied, straightforward enough that Jack seemed unsure what to say back. “It'd look nice in a braid or a low ponytail—would let your face be a bit more obvious, rather than your bangs obscuring it.”

Jack paused, Rarity nearly ran into the girl's back. Before she could voice her objections, Jack spoke up. “Know what I like?” Rarity let her talk, and Jack did without the slightest hesitation. “I like yer smile. Prettiest one in town.”

Rarity blushed, looking away. “O-oh my. Is that a fact?”

“Wouldn't say it if it weren't. Part of the reason I like drivin' off the boys teasin' ya.”

“And the other?”

Jack shrugged, walking ahead. “Like bein' useful ta someone, I guess.”

As she followed after the farmer, Rarity realized something. Not only were they off of school grounds, but they had already wandered deep into Mansfield proper. Standing very near them both was the town square. Already, the scent of fresh bread wafted towards where they were, making the violet-haired girl's stomach audibly growl. Jack grinned.

“Needin' a bite?”

“Perhaps I'm a bit peckish,” Rarity admitted.

“Sounds more like starven, judgin' by yer belly talkin'.”

Rarity bit a lip in embarrassment, turning her head away from Jack. “I'll have you know a lady does not get starved. She gets famished.”

Jack took a moment to process the word. Finally deciding what it meant, she shrugged. “Maybe you should tell yer stomach that lil' fact sometime,” Jack replied with a smile. “Come on, let's get somethin'.”

Jack ignored Rarity's flat expression, and turned, heading down a side-street. Rarity followed after her, hot on her heels, until they came to a familiar sight.

It was an interesting building, intentionally built to resemble a gingerbread house, with cream-colored walls and pink doors and window shutters, and roofing shingles designed with that motif in mind, browns sprinkled with designed candy canes and sugary sweets.

Sugar-land Corner, or, as a lot of the locals called it, the Corner, had been around a good forty years, passed down from Phillip Cake to his son, Seymour Cake. Seymour worked there now, and had for Jack and Rarity's entire life. He was a kindly sort, middle aged, and wasn't afraid of dolling out a treat or two on the sly for younger kids when they went their with their parents for lunch or dinner.

Jack approached the shop with Rarity and entered. A chime rang overhead as the two walked into the lobby and sat down at a booth in the corner.

“What you gonna eat?” Jack asked curiously, looking out the window at the passers-by while Rarity browsed the menu.

“Toasted ravioli.”

“Ravioli, huh?” Jack hummed, glancing down at her menu before giving a small nod to herself. “I'm sure you'll love it.”

“Hello there, girls,” a warm voice said. A plump, large-bosomed woman with rose-colored hair stood beside them.

“Howdy, Mrs. Cake,” Jack greeted.

The woman gave a small smile, looking between them like she always seemed to do when Jack was here. She had wondered why Mrs. Cake seemed so reserved around girls her age and had went to her dad once to ask why. He said that Mr. and Mrs. Cake had wanted a kid for years, but couldn't have one because Mrs. Cake was a Baron. Jack didn't understand what her pa meant, considering that barons had kids all the time, if she understood all the schooling she had gotten, but it was still something Jack tried to keep in mind when she was around.

“How's the shop?” Jack asked.

“Busy, despite the quiet at the moment.” She wiped her hands on her apron. “We have so many catering orders—people act like we're the only bakery in town!”

Jack tilted her head. “I thought ya were the only bakery in town.”

Rarity cleared her throat. “Y-yes. I believe that is the joke.”

“Oh.”

Rarity and Mrs. Cake shared a look and a grin, before the woman pulled out a notepad and pencil. “What can I get you both?” Mrs. Cake asked.

“Toasted ravioli, please,” Rarity said.

“Uh...” Jack thought for a moment, before shrugging. “Jus' a glass of water.”

“OK, girls.” She turned, heading towards the door leading to the kitchen before stopping, turning towards them. “So, what's the occasion?”

“Come again?” Jack asked.

“Shouldn't you both be in school?”

The blonde girl froze. “W-well, I, uh...”

“It's my birthday, and, considering my family's away for the moment, I wanted to celebrate,” Rarity quickly explained, coming to Jack's aid.

Mrs. Cake smiled. “Well, happy birthday! I think somebody deserves a slice of my chocolate cake.”

“It's yer birthday?” Jack asked quietly, looking over to the girl. Rarity said nothing, instead looking over to Mrs. Cake. Finally, Jack asked, “uh... how much would that run?”

The older woman blinked. “Free, dearie.”

“In that case, I think the birthday gal could use some.”

“Coming up. Just don't make skipping class a habit,” the woman lectured.

“No ma'am,” Jack agreed, looking expectantly at Rarity.

“I won't,” the violet-haired girl said, then added, “often.”

After the woman went off, Jack kicked back, shutting her eyes and leaning into the back of the chair. Rarity followed suit, though with more reservation, putting her hands in her lap and shuffling in her seat a bit. On hearing a small snore from Jack, Rarity snapped to attention, clinging a fork to a glass salt shaker. The blonde jerked awake with a yelp as Rarity grinned.

“Dang it, Rarity. Why the heck ya do that?”

The girl shrugged. “It seems impolite to sleep amid company.”

She seemed ready to argue back, but instead sighed. “Reckon so,” the woman agreed. “What ya wanna talk about?”

“Here we are!” Mrs. Cake announced, walking the through door, plates in hand. She sat a thick slick of chocolate cake in front of Rarity, then her meal, finally, a slice just as thick and moist in front of Jack.

“I didn't ask—“ Jack began, only to be cut off by Mrs. Cake.

“How are you gonna get as big as your daddy if you don't eat? Go on, dearie,” the plump woman cooed.

Jack eyed the slice and swallowed. “Well, I am pretty hungry,” she admitted, pausing only a moment before wolfing down three forkfuls in a matter of seconds. She froze, mid-chew. “Def ef gwet!” she proclaimed, her jaw in overdrive. “Fank yo!”

“Family recipe all the way from Dutchland.” The woman winked towards Jack. “I'll go grab your ticket for the ravioli.”

Looking over her food, Rarity cut a small piece off. “Why did you not order food, if you were hungry?” She blew on her forkful in a vain attempt to cool it off faster, then took a tentative bite. She reached over and added a pinch of pepper, then returned to the meal, the bite this time earning a nod of approval.

“I... dunno.” Jack glanced to the side, obviously hiding something.

“Here you go!” Mrs. Cake called, handing the slip over to the blonde. Jack reached into her wallet, producing a lonesome ten-dollar bill.

“Keep the change. Tip,” she instructed.

“Are you sure? I can get change,” Mrs. Cake encouraged.

“Nah,” Jack replied, her dismissal closing the offer. The baker headed to the registrar.

Rarity leaned forward, talking quietly. “Is that why you didn't get anything? So you could pay for mine?” She shook her head. “You didn't have to do that.”

“No I didn't,” Jack agreed, taking drink of water. “But I wanted to.”

“Really, Jack. We can get you something. I have my charge card. I'm sure—“

“Why ya got a charge card?” Jack scoffed. “Ain't no point fer someone yer age.”

“Emergencies, and something to us when my parents are away and I need food,” Rarity answered matter-of-facially. “But I can get you something with it.”

“I wanted ta treat ya.” She dismissed the idea with a wave of her hand, like she did with Mrs. Cake. “If it bothers ya that bad, cover me next meal.”

“Next time?” Rarity asked herself, inwardly clapping. She kept that thought to herself and instead nodded. “Don't you dare forget.”

“Same,” Jack replied, finishing off her cake.

“...And please chew with your mouth shut,” the child scolded with a world-weary sigh.

Before they could continue, the front door opened up and Mr. Cake all but ran in. “Claudia?!” he called out.

“Mmm?” came the muted reply. Mrs. Cake stepped out of the kitchen, wiping her wet hands on a towel. “Yes, dear?”

“That thing we talked about...?” He gave a slap to a letter in his hand.

“With Diane?” Claudia asked.

“That's the one!” Mr. Cake agreed. A boyish grin washed over his stubbled face. “The mayor finalized the paperwork this morning. We are now the proud joint-guardians of one Ms. Pie!”

Mrs. Cake let out an excited ah! and took a step forward, crushing her lanky husband's form against her own.

“Ya mean Pinkie?” Jack asked. Rarity looked as if the blonde had reached across the table and had slapped her.

“They're having an adult conversation, Jack,” Rarity warned.

“A conversation 'bout a new friend-a ours. No harm in askin',” Jack replied with a raised brow. She turned away and spoke once more to the adults. “What Pinkie have ta do with y'all?”

Mr. Cake broke away from Claudia. “Oh. Sorry, girls.” He rubbed the back of his head. “Didn't see you there.” Looking over to Mrs. Cake, she gave him an encouraging nod. “Well, do you know about Diane's folks?”

“Not a bit,” Jack plainly answered.

“I try to keep afloat of most gossip, and I've heard nothing as well,” Rarity agreed.

“They're good people. Hard working—I've not seen a single one of her family laze about.” He scratched at his stubble. “But they're Amish. They had no real way of giving Diane an education or modern conveniences, so...” Tapping once more at the letter, he beamed at the girls. “So her pop and I talked a few times and he wanted me to help raise her in the town she decided to come to.”

“That's great,” Jack said, only vaguely grasping the joint-guardianship stuff, but smiling regardless.

“It really is,” a tired woman's voice from behind Mr. Cake agreed. Jack froze, the voice instantly recognizable to her. As she expected, a woman with pure white hair and a worn, wrinkled face came limping in, leaning on a cane and opening and shutting her eyes to grow accustomed to the interior lighting. The old woman walked forward, giving a nod to the Cakes, then standing in front of Rarity and Jack. She sighed. “Whatcha doin', Jackie-girl?”

“I, uh...” She swallowed, sweat noticeable on her brow. “Ya see. I...”

Rarity stepped in. “I took Jack—“

“It's Rarity's birthday. I offered ta treat her to a meal an' knew I wouldn't have time after class, so...” Jack, looked down at her hands, her face too dark for a blush, but Rarity would guess she held one regardless. “It was all my idea. Had ta jus' 'bout drag her here.”

“That's not—“

“So don't worry none 'bout tellin' her folks. This was my fault, alright?”

Rarity looked at Jack. Jack spared her only a fleeting glance, before returning her gaze to her grandma.

The woman rubbed at her wrinkled brow and shook her head. “Yer pa'll have ta hear 'bout this.”

“Like when ya caught Mac chewin'. I know.” Jack nodded.

Her granny smiled down at the girls. “At least ya won't have ta swallow chew like yer brother did.” She winked and turned. “Ya girls have fun. I'll tell yer daddy 'bout this after dinner, alright?”

“Thank ya, gran,” Jack said quietly. If the older woman heard, she paid it no mind, limping past the happy couple talking, and left the store.

“Will your father...?” Rarity asked after a long, silent moment, concern etched on her face.

“I'll live. Probably. The spankin' ain't gonna be fun, though.”

“Oh dear.”

Shoot.” Jack grinned. “Ain't so bad. Amount of times I've gotten 'em? Might be getting callouses on my keester.”

Rarity let out a small chortle. Giving a small swirl of her drink, she looked towards the blonde. “Why did you lie? This was my fault, Jack. You had no need to...”

Jack shrugged. “If it means someone else getting in trouble for somethin' I tagged along for? There ain't no reason. I'm jus' surprised she bought it. Ain't known fer bein' able ta spin a yarn.” The girl pointed towards Rarity's meal. “Eat up. Gonna get cold otherwise.”

Rarity stared at the food. A small huff of bemusement came to her. Picking up her fork, she returned to eating.

They left and walked, killing time until school let out. Before long, they found themselves at Whitetail Woods, a secluded little plot of land in the town swimming with trees. Rarity spent most of the walk staring at Jack's hair. It was pretty. Rich, golden, it trailed down her back in beautiful waves. With a little care and shampoo, it'd be model-worthy easily, hair fit for a princess.

But Jack was no princess. Every moment spent with her proved that. What Jack was was a prince.

Her prince, Rarity thought, a ghost of a blush on her pale cheeks.

As they walked amid the golden leaves swirling over the dirt path, Rarity spied a bench. Taking a small look around to confirm they were alone, she gestured over to it. Once they sat, Rarity took in a calming breath.

“I realized something,” she said.

“Mmm?” Jack wordlessly pondered, looking to the leaves dancing in the air.

“I never properly rewarded you.”

“Fer what?” she asked, still drawn in by the natural art before her.

Rarity felt a blush to her cheeks yet again, but pressed on regardless. “For being my prince, of course.”

Jack let a snort of laughter out. “Prince, huh?”

“It's funny?” Rarity questioned, raising a brow. “Because I'm serious.”

“The 'dragon,'” she said, giving air quotes with her fingers, “kinda offed herself 'fore I could save ya, milady.”

Rarity quickly smiled at that, but shook her head. “I mean afterward. You proved your noble, princely nature to me. Taking the blame for my foolish mistake and treating me.” Her smile turned slightly pompous. “It's my duty as a princess to reward you for your gallantry.”

“Gall-a-what?” Jack asked, blinking.

“Close your eyes,” Rarity flatly instructed.

She did as ordered. Rarity leaned in just as Jack spoke up once more. “If you're puttin' a spider in my hair or a frog down my shirt, I'm sockin' ya, girly-girl or not,” she warned.

Rarity rolled her eyes, giving an unladylike huff. “I wouldn't even touch something that ghastly, let alone carry it.”

“Jus' sayin'. Last time a boy had me close my eyes, well, it was a prank he paid for.”

Rarity pursed her lips, but finally decided to let Jack's talk slide. She moved in closer, briefly pausing to watch the rise and fall of Jack's shoulders, the cute way her eyebrows sloped as she sat there, on the border of being perplexed. Or would it be handsome? Rarity pondered, fleetingly staring as Jack's lip twitched. Before she lost her nerve she darted forward, pecking Jack on the cheek in a chaste, brisk kiss. Heat flooded her face and she reached down to a large emerald on her necklace. With a blur of motion, she popped the emerald out of its silver tomb, deciding that it belonged somewhere far better.

Jack finally opened her eyes and rubbed at her cheek. “Did ya jus'...?”

“Of course,” she answered, as if it was self-explanatory. “It's what a princess does to a prince, after all.” Rarity held out the emerald. Jack looked at it, then held her hand up in refusal.

“No. Don't need it. My family might not have money, Rare, but we got ourselves at least a little dignity.”

“I don't expect you to sell it, Jack. I expect you to keep it.” Rarity smiled. “Knights took a token of their maiden into battle with them, did they not?”

“So I'm a knight now? That better than a prince?” Jack pondered, a finger to her chin.

Rarity stared at her for a moment before sighing. “I'm trying to be romantic. Could you at least pretend to play along?”

“Oh.” She bashfully nodded, putting the gem into her pocket.

They sat there for a moment, watching the sun and appreciating the quiet. Jack returned to seeing the leaves dance before her. “Don't ya think that's a bit silly?” Jack finally asked. “I mean, are ya talkin' 'bout wanting ta do that... kissin' stuff?”

“Like on the mouth?” Rarity asked. Her brow furrowed as she thought about it. “That seems rather... unhygienic,” she admitted.

“Kinda.” Jack agreed. “It seems kinda gross. Think 'bout a tongue touchin' yer own.”

“Ew.” Rarity winced. “That was far from a good vision, Jack.”

“I didn't like it either.”

Rarity nodded, crossing her legs and drumming a finger on the bench before Jack let out a curious hum.

“What do they do, I wonder?” Jack crossed her arms. “Ma and Pa hold hands an' stuff an' kiss sometimes, but I'd reckon there'd be more ta bein' a couple than that.”

“Adult things, obviously,” Rarity remarked, a nose in the air. “You wouldn't understand.”

“Try me. What kinda adult things?”

The violet-haired girl balked, not expecting to get called out. “W-well... holding hands. Dinners by candlelight. Picnics. Horseback riding. Jewelry shopping. Trying on dresses. Makeup parties. Shoe—“

Clapping her hands together, Jack brought Rarity back to reality. “I asked what adult things couples do, not what you'd do on a Saturday.”

“I'll have you know I've seen plenty of adult films.” Rarity crossed her arms. “And it always revolved around that scenario.”

“Well, I've seen a few my day too. Die Hard, Total Recall, Lethal Weapon—that one even had a naked lady in it.”

Rarity shook her head. “Those aren't adult films, they're guy films.”

“Guy adults!” Jack retorted, putting her hands to her hips defensively. “And besides, we've done a couple off yer list an that don't make us one.”

“Then what would?”

“I dunno.” She put her hand to a chin. “Maybe there are papers.”

“Papers? Are you serious?”

“Yeah.” Jack nodded, encouraged by a burst of inspiration. “Like when my Pa hired a hand on the farm last harvest season. That boy signed papers.” She tapped an imaginary stack of those very papers in her other hand. “Contract certified.”

“I've never seen that in the movies,” Rarity dubiously answered.

“They skip the boring stuff in 'em.” She grinned. “Besides, you mighta seen some anyway.”

Now Rarity was intrigued. “How so?”

Rising, Jack beckoned Rarity to follow. They left the path and Jack tapped her finger against a strong looking tree's trunk.

“Ya had to have seen a movie or two where they carve their initials into a tree.”

“Yes. What of—oh!” she exclaimed. “That does make sense!”

“Eyup. Practical, an' lets everyone know what's goin' on.” Jack nodded, though she tried to be humble about the stroke of genius, a smug smile started to grace the edges of her mouth.

Rarity shuffled on her feet, then reached to the tree, touching its coarse bark against her smooth palm.

“Ya wanna do it?” Jack asked, reaching into her pocket and pulling out a folding knife.

Rarity blushed. “I didn't think you'd be so keen on the idea right away.”

“I ain't. But we can practice our signatures.” Jack took to scraping the bark off the tree trunk, leaving a bare patch just a hair wider than her palm. “See? Ya jus' gotta...” She dug and scraped into the tree with the blade, scratching a J, then after a moment, a ragged A. Below that, she made a small plus sign. “See? Ya put yer initials here.” Handing over her knife to Rarity, she added, “real business-like.”

Rarity took it, keeping the edge as far away from her body as possible. “You complain that I have a credit card, but you carry something that could kill you. I fail to see the logic.”

“Knife that small? I'd have ta really try hard ta get killed on it.”

She watched Rarity make a graceful, swooping R, then an equally majestic B. Jack whistled, impressed. “Thought 'bout takin' up whittlin'?”

“You mean wood-carving?” Rarity guessed, brushing off her hands, then reaching into a pocket for a handkerchief to wipe them fully clean.

“Yeah.”

“No,” she easily answered, stepping back to admire their handiwork.

“Might consider it. Looks good for a practice run.”

“It's what a lady strives for. Perfection.” Rarity shut her eyes, grinning.

“Reckon it'll be a while before I'm ready ta make one for real.” Jack put her knife up, but kept her hands in her pockets.

“Perhaps,” Rarity agreed. “I suppose you can't rush things, even if you want to.”

They stood there for a while longer before a goofy grin came to Jack.

“When grown-ups kiss on the lips, ya think they use their teeth for anythin'?” Jack pondered, moving away from the tree, towards the trail.

“They're not vampires, Jack. I'm sure biting doesn't happen,” Rarity countered, following in-step with the blonde.

“Ok.” Wandering down the path, Jack felt the need to speak again. “Can ya imagine doin' that an' they have bad breath?”

Rarity's mouth curled in a grimace. “That's gross.”

“Not as gross as them havin' a runny nose,” Jack countered, during her best to hide her grin.

“That's even worse!” she exclaimed. A beat later, she added, with as neutral of face as possible, “but it couldn't be as bad as kissing someone, then realizing they had food in between their teeth.”

Jack stuck out her tongue. “Alright, ya win.”

They glanced at one-another, grinning, and headed down the trail.

Rarity shuffled under her covers, finally tossing them to the side and putting her night-mask on the end-table. She rose, heading to the bathroom. A shower, a gurgle of mouthwash, and one small adjustment to her luscious hair later, she went back to her vanity and put a few finishing touches of blush, eyeliner and violet lipstick that matched her hair. Finally done with turning greatness into perfection, she rose and made her way to the emerald resting on her bed's end-table. Reaching for it she paused, her thoughts coming to her dream of last night. Or, rather, her memory.

She smiled. It was hard to believe she was so naive. Granted, it seemed to run in the family, going by her younger sister at times, but still. At least Jack had been just as clueless about most things.

Her smile died just a hair at the thought as she took to rolling the emerald in her fingers.

It was odd, what the heart wanted. When she was younger, Jack seemed like this ideal girl. Popular with the boys, popular with the girls, never afraid to speak her mind, it was no wonder she had such an interest in Jack during their younger years.

What changed? she thought. Like every issue with Jack, it was obvious in a way.

Her parents. Once they were gone, Jack fell from the limelight. She withdrew from a lot of people. In retrospect, Rarity wished she had offered to be there more, especially after the funeral, but she didn't know what to say at that age. Regardless, it should have been something. Maybe then, Jack wouldn't of been gone for all those years, stuck in Manhattan and attending formal party after formal party with her aunt and uncle.

While Rarity herself would have been ecstatic to be part of something so grand and intriguing, she at least knew Jack detested such things. In a sense, the farmer was like a horse: free, content with the ground below and the sky above, movements and adjustments to her body's positioning rugged and animalistic, like poetry in motion.

The last thought caught her off guard and she visibly flinched a hair at the foreign consideration.

Jack wasn't ugly by any means—though she wasn't necessarily pretty either, at least not in the traditional sense for a woman. She was tall, even for a man, like most of the Apple clan, and had hard, ropey muscles ever since she returned to the farm at adolescence. Though despite the hard muscles, there were certain angles that gave her a feminine look, and during these times, during these angles, she was something else.

When she unwittingly would show off her cavernous cleavage when she bent down. When she bit her full lip in thought. When her eyes would squint half-shut in laughter at one of Diane or Isabelle’s tacky jokes.

The way her accent seemed to soften slightly during quiet moments, complementing, rather than masking, her sensual voice. Or maybe the accent didn't fade, maybe Rarity let her critical eye of the woman soften during the times they shied away from the rest of their friends.

Jack wasn't pretty, at least not in the traditional sense. Outside, though...

“Stop it,” she told herself, trying to stifle the torrents of thoughts that poured out of her right now. It made no sense, she hadn't thought about her little girlhood crush in years. Why all of a sudden was she thinking about her like... like that? The more she thought about the dream, the more details she could make out. The white skirt she wore, the plaid on Jack. The color of Jack's pocket knife. Her calloused hands.

Shaking her thoughts away, she rose, heading downstairs. Debating between breakfast and work, she decided to compromise, brewing a pot of coffee and heading to a backroom, where a white dress, elegant, shimmering and sleek even by her standards, stood proudly on a mannequin. Rarity approached it, pausing for a moment to reach to a nearby desk and put on a pair of ruby glasses, then returning her focus to the dress.

She looked towards the neckline. It had taken work, as everything worthwhile in her profession did, but it was pristine. She had created a sort of faux-necklace made with lace and gems interwoven together and attached to the lower neck of the dress via small strands of silk. The pearls complemented the white, snow-pure material she had chosen, but, the crux of the piece, the gem she had wanted that would complete the design, was the emerald that would rest at the center of the necklace. It complemented her client's eyes, and a cooler color than a red would help with the more relaxed setting, it being a wedding, after all.

As she prepared to hot-glue the emerald onto the surface, she paused, hesitating.

The gem would look perfect on the dress. Its dimensions were so well crafted she would hardly have to adjust any of the material, yet...

Yet it was something she gave Jack. A keepsake from one foolish girl to the other. Giving it to someone else, something so personal, even if she hadn't thought of it for years...

Try as she might, she couldn't get rid of the gem now, just like she couldn't get rid of her thoughts of Jack.

They had changed since then, Jack and herself. Rarity had grown and had gained confidence, drive, and inspiration of her own from her work, and now strove to be the best fashion designer in the country, to have her dresses marched down the same walkway as Karl Lagerfeld, to be on the cover of Vogue. She didn't need a white knight atop a horse to sweep in, hold her, and whisper that everything would be alright, like she did as a child.

Letting out a frustrated click of her tongue, Rarity pocketed the damnable gem and marched back to the desk, pulling her chair out and all but throwing herself down. Opening a notepad, she looked over the initial sketch of the dress standing unfinished behind her, and willed an aesthetic solution to spring to her mind.

She didn't need a white knight, but... was there really shame in wanting one? Was there a problem with realizing that after years of pining after princess, duchesses, nobles, politicians, the actual partner she strived for could be someone so plain?

What has gotten into you? She thought, embarrassed at the childlike ponderings. Jack was brave, kind, and had a certain humbleness that was almost noble, but, if Rarity was honest, all these years and she still didn't understand her. She couldn't understand why Jack detested the high-rise life, she couldn't understand Jack's indifference to appearances, she couldn't understand her loyalty to her family and their land.

Rarity looked down, pulling away from her thoughts. During all of this, all she had managed to do was doodle on her design, giving the bare-bone woman she had drawn for the dress's model Jack's long blonde hair and welcoming, clear eyes.

Groaning in frustration, Rarity pushed the sketch back.

It was a small comfort, but she took solace knowing that at least she didn't draw jeans on the leggings or plaid on the dress, as Jack was wont to wea—

Rarity shot up off the chair, all but twitching in realization, at her sudden burst of inspiration.

A crochet pattern at a slanted angle on either side of a ruby at the center of the faux-necklace, it could still make the eye travel along the neck more, but could be subdued by covering it, giving it a subtle sheen to it.

Grinning, Rarity reached down for her phone and prepared to call her client. It was exciting to her, how well everything fell into place. Jack could have the gem back, and they could go out and celebrate.

Her and the girls too, correct? Rarity paused, her thumb almost ready to hit “send” on her phone's screen.

Well, of course the other girls were welcome too—she appreciated them, and rightly so, Rarity wouldn't be half the person she was if not for them, but...

But you'd prefer being alone with her, test the waters without her knowing, wouldn't you? Rarity ruefully grinned. How was she supposed to do that, was the first question that came to mind. If they met up alone, she'd know something was up, if Rarity lied and said the others couldn't make it or had to cancel? Jack would be beyond agitated that Rarity hadn't told the truth about something like that, not to mention the difficulty finding a location for both of them to enjoy themselves in. It was hard balancing her own interests and something that wouldn't put Jack to sleep.

Rarity canceled the call to her client and instead punched in a number near and dear to her heart.

Though, out of her circle of friends, she considered herself to be the most well-versed in regards to the matter of the heart, she knew the value of the second opinion. While Rarity was stubborn like Jack, she at least could and would take sound advice to heart before jumping headlong into an unwinnable situation.

Hitting 'send,' Rarity swallowed, listening to the phone as it rang.

The whine of an electric guitar announced itself over the radio in the trailer on the outskirts of Mansfield. Rarity winced as Axl Rose continued his shrieking vocals, but she put on a brave face, sitting politely on the center of a worn couch, clothes thrown haphazardly on either armrest. The kitchen door shot open and a lanky woman strode out, a can of beer in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She plopped down on a chair opposite of Rarity and threw up her heels onto a cloth covered milk crate. Taking a drag, the woman smirked, brushing a hand through her multichromatic hair.

“So, I hear you got a problem,” she announced to Rarity in a scratchy voice.

“Well, yes. That is why I called you, after all,” Rarity replied.

The woman finished up her smoke and stuffed it in an ashtray, then threw one leg over the chair's armrest. “Damn right. Call the best or lose like the rest.” She blew on her fingertips, then opened her can of beer. “Lay it on me, Stitches.”

“Isabelle, I told you not to call me that,” Rarity remarked. She rose, moving past several posters advertising tickets for a group of showmen known as the Wonderbolts, and killed the radio.

“Lame. It was getting to the guitar solo,” Isabelle answered crossly.

“Exactly why I turned it off when I did.” Rarity moved back to her seat and put a hand to her chin. “Now, Isabelle, I'll need you to listen carefully. This is impor—“

“'Isabelle?' I think you know what I wanna here, girl,” Isabelle smugly grinned. “Say it and I might give you some advice.”

“Do I really have to?” Rarity asked.

“When I'm a Wonderbolt and being totally awesome I'll need to stay in character for my fans. That includes a stage name.” Taking another drink of beer she raised her glass towards Rarity, wordlessly encouraging her to say it.

“Fine, Dash,” the tailor replied with a groan. “I need some advice.”

“Good thing I just happened to have a free and easy day today. Just some jogging, a smoke, then hit up the bakery for a latte macch—“ She paused. “A coffee. Totally just a black coffee,” she corrected. “I mean, people ask for my advice all the time, so it's lucky you caught me. If I wasn't gonna be a big-shot athlete, I could make bank doing some damn guru business, real top of the line crap. It's why you came to me first, after all.”

“Well... I tried calling Twila first. She's at the capital getting lessons under Celestia.”

Isabelle gave a small bounce of her head. “Alright. Second best in the business. But Twila's a bookworm, I'm here for the advice that works.”

“Then I tried Chylene. She had to take care of a deer that was giving birth and I didn't want to intrude.”

This time the nod came a little less slowly. “Chylene, huh? Well, I guess that's still understandable. She's got that whole 'Medicine woman' vibe thing. Makes sense people getting advice from her.”

“Then I tried Diane—“

“Oh hell no. I was behind Diane on advice? Pinkie couldn't advice her way out of a paper bag!” Dash whined, throwing her arms to the side and nearly spilling her drink.

“And then I managed to get in touch with you.”

Dash rolled her eyes, fanning the neck of the oversized jersey she wore. “OK, OK. I guess I might as well bite, since I'm curious: what's the problem I'm the 4th best for answering?”

Biting the bullet, Rarity went straight for the issue. “Suppose you had an interest in someone, Dash, and you've known them for years. How should you approach it without making it problematic for the other?”

Isabelle seemed perturbed. She crossed her legs and held a hand up, halting Rarity. “Look, uh, I know I'm a sexy goddess and all, and I'm not wearing pants, but I don't swing the way you do, Stitches.”

“...I thought you just had some shorts on under the jersey or something, Dash.”

“You gave me like five minutes before you came over. Cut me some slack.” She scratched at her earlobe, then took another drink of beer. “Hope I didn't let you down to hard, not being a dyke like you or nothin'. I'm sure if I was gay, you'd be the first girl I'd rub doughnuts with.”

Rarity put her face to the palm of her delicate hand. “There are times I wonder if you intentionally misunderstand people, Isabelle. This issue isn't about you. And for the record, I'm not exclusively into women, so that would hardly classify me as a 'dyke', as you so lovingly put it.”

“Why aren't you into me?” she asked defensively. “Am I not hot enough for you? I'll have you know people go crazy for a chance to pounce bods like mine.” She smugly gave a point at her flat chest with both her thumbs before scowling and downing the rest of the beer. Crushing the can, she tossed it to the side and belched. “I'm sure girls would line up for a little of the magic finger work if I was a rug muncher.”

“I'm sure they would,” Rarity awkwardly reassured after a beat, raising a brow. “But I'd rather discuss my issue, if we may.”

“Alright. So, got that whole 'wonder how to break the ice' bit, yeah?” Isabelle asked. A nod from Rarity made her offer a shark-toothed grin. “Who's the lucky gal? Give me that pay dirt.”

“I suppose you do deserve a name, considering I interrupted you—are you at least wearing underwear under that jersey?”

Dash gave an easy shrug. “Hell yeah. I'm a class act.”

“Well, it's someone we both know and have affected us on a personal, individual level. It's because of this very reason and the fact we all interact with her regularly, means I don't want to have this event hold any sour notes.” Brushing her bangs behind an ear, she wryly smiled. “Perhaps you'll simply tell me its better to not even attempt to get involved. Maybe you're right. But today I've been going mad thinking about her.”

“You either go big or go home. And I think that's an opinion you and I share, yeah?”

“Mmm,” Rarity agreed. “I suppose it is.”

Smirking, Isabelle leaned back in her chair, bridging her fingers behind her head. “I think I can guess who we're dancing around here.”

“Then you'll know exactly why I can't afford to ruin my chance.”

“Don't worry about that, Rare.” Dash gave a dismissive wave of her hand. “Just be yourself and talk this shit over with her. Odds are she'll appreciate the frankness.”

Rarity let the advice sink in. She nodded once she realized how close it mirrored her own view. “You are right, of course. She deserves a direct approach about the... situation. I'm not being myself.” Giving a graceful flick of her curled hair, she announced, “I shall approach this with my trademark confidence and style! One does not get to where I am in life by being meek, after all!”

“Damn straight.” A wolfish grin came to Dash. “Besides, she might find it kinda cute if you screw up anyway. Older women are like that.”

Rarity nodded briskly in agreement. “She might have a laugh, undoubtedly, if I—wait. Older women?”

“Yeah.” A pause. “Uh... you were talking about Ms. Cheerilee, yeah? I mean, who else around here could catch your eye? That ass in that black skirt is fat. Fat enough that I'd almost be willing to pitch for the other team. Know what I mean? Maybe she could give me a little coaching, follow?” She closed her eyes, an open-toothed grin plastered on her face. “Yeah, you know what I mean.” Once she opened them and noticed Rarity's unamused look, she nervously laughed. “And, uh, what a personality. Uh... helping kids and... uh...”

Rarity shuffled in her seat. “It's not her,” she quietly said.

“Oh.” Dash paused for another moment before taking a shot in the dark. “The mayor?” Rationalizing her choice, she added on, “I mean, she's like fifty, but that girl's got a tight bod. She's like a GILF or somethin'.”

Ignoring the abbreviation she didn't need Dash to spell out, Rarity gave a nod. “I hear that she does Pilates.”

Dash leaned forward, interested in the workout talk. “Pilates, huh?”

“Yep. I hear that's a pretty difficult core workout. Would explain the toned body, even at her age.”

“Huh.” Isabelle gave another bounce to her head. “Guess I should add it to my P90X workout.” Looking as if she was making a checklist, Dash got back on track. “Alright. I give. Just tell me who it is already.”

Rarity sighed, the moment of truth finally at hand. “It's... it's Jack.”

Isabelle nodded in acceptance, then paused, doing a double-take. “Tons of fun?! Seriously?!”

Rarity jumped quickly to the defensive. “She's not fat, Dash.”

“Well, nah, but muscle weighs more than fat, and that whole damn family is built like brick shithouses. Hell, I bet their grandma could lift me in one arm and she's what, like eighty?”

“Eighty-six, actually. Had a birthday a month or so back.”

“Point still stands. Their whole family's like that, and I bet Alice is gonna get almost as tall as dear old sis in a few years.” She let a loud snort of amusement out. “Seriously though, you're needing advice asking the hayseed out? You're not that stupid.”

Rarity rose, heat flooding her face. “Well I never! I came for a helping hand and all you've done is insult her and myself! I will not stand—“

“Easy, easy, Rare. Sit. Hear me out before you get too pissed, alright?”

Reluctantly, Rarity sat back down on the couch, nearly panicking when a hand came in contact with some of Dash's dirty laundry strewn about the couch. She moved her palm quickly away, offering a reserved frown of disgust, and put her hands in her lap.

Dash shook her head once Rarity seemed focused again. “I just can't believe you're asking advice on hitting up Jack.”

“What's so strange about that? I don't want to intrude on our group dynamic. Plus, let's face the facts, you're the closest one to her in regards to interests. Getting information about what would please her is a necessity in order to—“

“Stop right there,” Isabelle remarked. She shot up out from her chair and made a quick run to the kitchen door. A minute passed, then she reappeared with another beer. Popping it open and taking a sip, she shook her head. “See? You're going about this thing wrong. I know what Tons of Fun likes, sure. But you got a leg up on the competition.”

Rarity prepared to counter Dash, but instead waited for the woman to continue.

“She knows you and, as much as you two pussyfoot around it, I know you both care for one-another.”

“Which is why she can't stand half of what I say,” Rarity replied.

“She doesn't get half of what you say and it frustrates her. There's a difference.” She took another drink. “Think about how she treats her sister sometimes. She's hard on her too, yeah? Same kinda deal.”

Rarity gave an unsure shrug. “I don't doubt she appreciates me as a friend, but...”

“She's harder on you than any one of us. And I don't think it's always about her thinking you're blowing your time on dresses, Rare. She might not even realize she's doing it, you know?” Dash raised a finger off her drink, pointing at Rarity. “See why I thought it was stupid? I mean, even I can kinda see you're important to her. Her being important to you? Hell, it's a no-brainier.”

“But I don't have an idea what makes her happy. There are times when she's a complete mystery to me, Isabelle.”

“Don't sweat the small stuff around her. If you put some effort into it, she will too.” Dash grinned. “Besides, I thought you were the creative one, yeah? Don't tell me you can't think of a single thing for both of you to do together.”

Rarity conceded that point. “I suppose I am a specialist when it comes to artistic inspiration.”

“There you go. And you prod Jack enough, she'll come around.” Finishing her second beer, Isabelle let out an impressive belch. “Now you just need a good pickup line. Something like 'if you think a horse can be rough under the saddle, wait until you're riding me.'”

Blushing, the tailor shook her head. “I should have expected your crassness to return in spades.”

“Of course. I ain't Chylene, this nice crap isn't how I roll most of the time, dog.” She rose, moving toward Rarity. “Now, do you need a hand breaking the ice with the hayseed? I can tag along for moral support.”

Watching her, Rarity gave a slow nod. “I'd appreciate it. Though I would hate intruding on your plans.”

“Plans? Hell, it's casual Friday, today's the day I let the wind blow me.”

“Friday?” Rarity repeated. “Isabelle, it's Thursday.”

Dash smirked, rolling her eyes. “You need to cut that crap out. You're garbage at pranks.”

Rarity reached for her phone, pulling up a small calendar and showing it to Isabelle. “Thursday.”

Her color drained from her face as she stared at Rarity's screen. Her jaw slowly slumped and then she shot forward, grabbing a pair of pants by Rarity's arm. “Shit! I was supposed to be at work three hours ago!” She stuck a leg into the jeans and hopped around, struggling into them. “Why didn't anyone call me?!” With a yell, she fell backwards onto her back, still forcing her way into the pants.

“I'll... talk to you later, darling,” Rarity remarked, rising and heading towards Dash's front door.

It was late afternoon when Rarity made her way to Sweet Apple Acres. Like usual, when she stepped to the family's plot of land she had to appreciate how fresh the air was around her. Even though the Apples tended to use tractors and trucks regularly to haul produce and the season's harvest, the air here never seemed to hold that sort of hint of bitterness the town proper held from the vehicles that traveled the roads. It was one of the handful of things Rarity could appreciate here.
Approaching the large two-story house overlooking the farmland, Rarity caught sight of a thick-set older woman, looking almost childlike as she dozed on a porch swing, a soothing breeze making her seat move under her and swinging her feet along the knotted wood floor. Rarity smiled at the sight, pressing on inside.

In the kitchen a colossal man more at home on a pedestal than in the flesh turned to her, gazing easily. He gave a wordless nod 'hello,' then returned to leaning down on the counter, where he spread mayonnaise on two sandwiches packed high with an alphabet of meats ranging from baloney to turkey. Finally finished with his spread, he wrapped them in plastic then stuffed them into a heavy steel lunchbox alongside a tall thermos and closed it with a push, moving to put it on the top shelf of the fridge.

“A little late to be making a pack lunch,” Rarity chided.

“It's for tomorrow,” Mac explained, moving back to the counter. “I'm headin' out to cousin Braeburn's ta help lay some pipe down. Granny an' Jack might not have enough time ta make somethin' fer Alice's school lunch.”

Rarity paused, looking towards the fridge. “That is all for Alice?”

“Eyup,” he simply agreed, in the process of making another sandwich.

“Awful lot for a girl her age.”

“She's got an Apple appetite.” He fixed up two more sandwiches, then put all three of them in an off-pink colored box, alongside two bags of chips. Pausing, the faintest smile came to his stoic face. “An... Appletite.”

Rarity stared at him. Mac stared back. Finally, he sighed, taking the lunchbox in his massive hand.

“Jack's in the barn. Tell her I'm gone.”

With that, he clomped outside. Rarity turned and followed suit.

She walked through the farm's front yard, giving a small pat to Winona, the family dog. It yipped excitedly at her, probably smelling Rarity's cat on her clothes. Finally, she made it to the barn and pushed the double-door open, instantly greeted with a swear.

“Shit!” Jack called out as something metallic clattered to the hard-packed dirt.

Charming, Rarity thought, before stepping into the barn. The scent of hay tickled her nose and made her suppress a sneeze. “Jack?” she called out.

Glancing towards the center of the barn, a beat-up S10 caught her eyes. The dinged in, dented hood of the truck had seen better days, and, judging by the missing bumper, the rest of the truck was much the same.

A pair of long, jean-clad legs peaked out from below the truck. After a beat, a gloved hand came into sight and Jack slid out from under the truck, her hair matted and dirty and her dark skin splattered with oil. She wiped at her face with a forearm, only succeeding in smearing the oil across her brow. Paying it no mind, she grinned down at the tailor as she rose to her full height.

“Well howdy there, sug. What brings ya to my lil' slice of heaven?”

Rarity ignored the question for the moment, partially to gather her courage and partly because of how Jack looked.

“You're filthy,” she admonished. Before the farmer could reply, she had reached into her purse, producing a handkerchief and stepping in closer to Jack. She gently rubbed at the oil, wiping away what she could.

“I screwed up on the dumbest thing,” Jack explained. If she noticed the closeness between her and the tailor, it went without comment or flinch. “Pulled out the drain plug too quick, got it all over my damn face.”

“That's terrible,” Rarity mock scolded, keeping her composure as she began to breach the subject she was here for. “How can you go to town looking like that?”

“Town?” Jack repeated. She tilted her head down a bit, giving Rarity a bit of an easier time reaching the top of her brow with her handkerchief.

“Of course.” Nodding at the job well done, she put the handkerchief back up “I feel there needs to be a celebration in order for a job well done! Who better to join me than my hero of the day?”

Jack offered a smile. “You'd do the same fer me.”

“If I had the answer to your problem, of course,” she agreed, then, added with a smile of her own. “Only I'd probably complain more.”

Jack let a snort out. “Jus' remember you said that one, not me.” Giving a brisk pat to her hair, Jack nodded. “Guess a show is in order, ain't it?”

“I'm willing to forgive your... attire,” she said, wrinkling her nose at the farmer's muddy and stained clothing, “but a shower is a requirement.”

Jack nodded and they began the trek back to the house.

“Girls meetin' us there?” Jack asked.

Here came the real do-or-die moment. Gathering her resolve, Rarity met Jack's green eyes.

“No. Just us.” A beat, then she hastily added, “everyone else is busy.”

“Jus us, huh?” Jack laughed as she climbed up the porch steps. “I reckoned ya'd want better company.”

“What do you mean?” Rarity asked, pushing open the screen door leading into the kitchen.

“I gotta be borin' to ya.” She scratched at her cheek. “I mean, I ain't exactly the most interesting person, 'least when it comes to what ya like to hear.”

“And what do I want to hear?” Rarity questioned.

She let her strong shoulders rise and fall. “Hell, I dunno, gossip. High-life, that kinda crap ya know I don't give a hoot about.”

“There's something wrong with gossip and discussion of the high-life?” Rarity questioned, a hair defensive.

“Did I say that?” Jack cautiously asked. “I jus' said I don't care 'bout 'em. Do ya care 'bout hearin' how we did on wheat this year?”

Rarity hesitated, taking a finger and twirling her hair. “Well, I like knowing about you and your issues.” She put a hand to her chin and for a quiet moment, simply stared at Jack. “I don't care of numbers. true, but I do care about you, Jack.” She smiled. “So tell me: how was your wheat harvest?”

Jack blinked. “Uh... well, we actually pulled out better than I thought we would. Got what we pulled last year, plus a quarter more, so we're ahead of the game. Nice lil' profit.”

“That's marvelous, darling. I'm glad to hear!” Rarity shook her head. “See? Was that so painful?”

Jack laughed. “Guess not. Jus' gotta keep it simple with ya.”

“Interesting, I think you mean. Simple seems to be more in line with you,” Rarity easily answered. Realizing what she said, she quickly added, “not, of course, to insinuate you're dumb. Rather, you view things from a... different approach than myself.”

“Back when Twila first got here, I reckon ya woulda forgot ta add that second part,” Jack joked, wiping at her nose.

Rarity laughed, giving a small wave of her hand. “Naturally. She's done so much for us over the years. I wouldn't be half the woman I am.”

“She's done a lot for me too. Hell, ya remember when Mac hurt his back an' she rounded up everyone ta help apple harvest? Or when I broke my hand an' Mac an' her took care-a chores for weeks there? Couldn't ask for a better friend.” Jack took a step closer to Rarity and put a hand on her shoulder. “But don't sell yourself short.”

Rarity sucked in a surprised breath at the touch. She looked up to Jack's eyes. “What do you mean?”

“You've been a hell of a woman for as long as I can remember. Even if I do go off on ya sometimes.” Jack stared down to the floor, thinking. Finally, she sighed. “Maybe I jus' worry about ya. I think a lot of that high-end crap can hurt ya if ya ain't careful, ya know?”

“And I think broadening your horizons is something you need to do too, Jack. You need to think about yourself sometimes instead of the family.”

Jack wryly smiled. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

Finally, Rarity offered a flippant hand. “Well, there will be time to talk later. Take your shower, Jack. I'd rather us get to town soon.”

“Right, right.” She left the kitchen and soon Rarity heard the telltale sound of water running in the second floor bathroom. Deciding to kill a bit of time, she headed to the living room and sat down on a rocking chair. She simply had to look at the half-done scarf sitting in a wicker basket at the foot of the chair to guess who normally sat her. Giving a small bemused snort, she picked up the two needles and busied herself working on the scarf. She took to humming a small tune to herself, a leftover from childhood. Her mother used to sing it to her, at least when she was around, and it comforted her.

“Ya knit like you're seventy,” a quiet, scratchy voice chimed in from the archway. Rarity blushed, looking down at the scarf and putting it to the side. “That was a compliment, girly,” the older voice gently admonished, “ya go on an keep at it if ya want. My hands ain't good for it, let alone my eyes.”

Rarity hesitated, then picked up where she had left off. Jack's granny came to her, sitting down on a nearby chair. She watched Rarity's hands expertly work for a moment, a warm, maternal smile on her face as the tailor made more progress in minutes than she usually could in an hour.

“Know who that scarf's for?”

“Mmm?” Rarity asked, looking up from the object, towards the old woman's weathered and lined face.

“Jackie-girl. She's needin' one for winter, caught hers last year on barbwire.”

“It's coming along nicely,” Rarity said, looking down at the earlier stitching.

“Thank you kindly, dearie.” The old woman looked towards the noise of the shower, her warm smile fading a bit. “Was a lot like her in my day.” She let a small snort out. “Don't be fooled by how I look now, I was a youngin' once too, ya know.”

“Of course,” Rarity agreed.

“I remember havin' to be a rock for the family too, like my Jackie-girl's doin'.” She frowned. “It ain't right, her always havin' ta be the one that smiles.”

Rarity didn't quite understand exactly, but waited for the woman to continue regardless.

“She's takin' care-a Alice's homework, even though she ain't a book type—ya know there were a few nights Alice taught Jack?” She chucked, as did Rarity, before continuing,” an' Mac, bless his soul, he tries, but he ain't good with talkin', 'specally at the market. Boy's shy. Jack though? Goes there an' customers leave the stand happy every time.”

“She is a charmer. A sincere one—she genuinely does try to make people happy.”

“I...” A small spark of disgust crossed her features. “I ain't as strong as I used ta be. Used to be? I could haul hay right alongside Alice, maybe even keep up with Mac on a good day. Now... I'm getting' ta be a hindrance 'round the house. She's havin' ta take care of all of us, one way or another.” The woman looked over at Rarity's busy hands. “She needs someone to take care of her from time to time. Someone that'll let her cry when she needs it.”

“She has someone like that. A lot of people, actually. Her friends are more than happy to pick her up when she cannot rise on her own, I'm proud to call myself one of them.”

“An' I'm glad 'bout that,” Jack said, stepping into the living room. She had cleaned up well, her hair in a long side braid, twisting down her front in beautiful rows of gold. Her shirt, while plain, was at least a button-up white piece, and she had abandoned her tattered jeans for some at least respectable brown slacks.

Rarity rose, putting the scarf to the side, mentally noting to either finish it or make a fresh one for Jack at a later time and approached the farmer, giving a meticulous once-over on the girl, walking behind Jack and pausing for a moment to admire every facet of the girl, before returning to the farmer's front.

“You look very well-to-do,” she said.

“It's yer night, sug. Thought you'd get kinda mad if I strutted out there like usual.”

“I wouldn't be mad, just...” Rarity let a huff out. “Perturbed, perhaps.”

Jack tilted her head. Rarity noticed she even had small stud earrings on. She clearly was dressed to the nines. At least, as high-end dressed as she got . “There a difference?”

“Of course there's a difference. It makes me concerned, rather than angry, Jack.”

Jack narrowed her brow. “Concerned, huh? Think I can't dress myself up?”

“Well, I do seem to recall a week ago when you went to Twila's in those overalls.” Rarity recoiled, repulsed at the word even.

“Hey now, what in the sam hill was wrong with 'em?” Jack asked. “They do the job fer workin' in.”

“Did you not notice the hole in the crotch? I was so embarrassed for you I thought I'd die. Good thing Isabelle wasn't there that evening, I'd never live it down!”

“Why would ya be so embarrassed? Ain't like you're wearin' those britches. Maybe you should think about worryin' 'bout yerself instead of me.”

“Well, someone has to worry about you! You certainly don't do it enough yourself!” Rarity scolded. Finally satisfied with holding the last word, she closed in to the farmer, giving a small adjustment to Jack's cuff. “I was serious a moment ago, Jack. You look even better than you did in the gala dress.”

They heard a snort of laughter from nearby. Jack's granny limped towards the two, shaking her head in bemusement.

“Like lookin' in a mirror,” the old woman remarked. Jack shuffled on her feet a bit.

“What ya mean, Gran?”

“Yer grandpa an' I used to argue 'bout the same way. Then he'd butter me up an', well...”

Rarity blushed, taking a small step away from Jack, while the farmer simply grinned at her granny.

“Ya try an' put him in a suit?” Jack asked.

“He wanted me in a fancy dress, actually, back 'fore his family an' ours founded Mansfield. Finally gave him what he wanted when we said our vows. Though it didn't stop us arguin' like cats an' dogs on other things.” She walked off, giving a pat to Jack's arm and leaving the two in peace.

Rarity coughed, regaining her footing. “Well, shall we?”

They pulled up to Sugar-land corner and got out of Jack's truck. Rarity rubbed her butt, glancing back to the vehicle.

“Not exactly a smooth ride,” she remarked.

“Gets me where I'm goin' an' can haul feed like it ain't no thing. Can't imagine it was built for a 'smooth ride.'” Jack rolled her arm. “But still, surprised yer jus' wantin' ta eat here. We come here all the time.”

“With the girls. Not just the two of us,” Rarity pointed out, slinging her purse over her shoulder and heading towards the front door.

A familiar chime rang out as they entered the shop and not even a moment later, a head peaked out of the kitchen. A young baby girl with bright eyes. She stared at them, a little thumb in her mouth, before joined by her brother, who let out a small, bubbly giggle on seeing the two.

“Hey lil' guys,” Jack announced, chuckling.

The twins were miracle children. Somehow, the Cakes managed. It took a lot of hard work and perseverance, but they were blessed with mouths to feed.

Granted, they were doing something I wouldn't call 'hard work,' necessarily, Rarity thought with a coy grin.

Jack puffed out her cheeks and held her arms out to either side, waddling towards the children with crossed eyes. They squealed in delight, falling down to their hands and knees and crawling towards her.

Hoisting them up to her broad shoulders, Jack blew a raspberry first to the baby boy, then the girl, who excitedly beat her hands together at the farmer's face.

A noise from the kitchen drew everyone's attention. A woman with pink poofy hair peeked out of the door, her face turning to a broad grin.

“There you two are!” Pinkie exclaimed, stepping through and into the lobby. “Thought you could escape ol' Auntie Pinkie, did ya?!” She took the boy easily in her arms and lifted up his shirt, blowing on his bare stomach with her mouth and letting an even more pleased squeal come from him, before resting him against her chest. “And how are you two doing on this fine and pleasant day?”

“Us, right? Not the kids on that question?” Jack asked.

“Well, duh, silly!” She said, bouncing her head and making her curly hair dance. “They can't answer me yet, so it defaults to you!” Reaching once more to Jack, she took the girl from her, cradling one in each arm.

“She's got a point,” Rarity admitted.

“Guess so.”

“So...” Pinkie gave a small gesture to the empty lobby. “The Cakes are away for a catering show, so I'm home alone and can't come out to play! Sorry!”

“We're here as customers, sug. Rarity's got herself a lil' celebration meal comin' an—“

“Oh! A celebration?! Well, let me just go and get some records and cake and balloons and animals and—“

“Actually, darling. I'd prefer this one be low-key,” Rarity chimed in, walking to a booth and sliding in. “Simply Jack and myself enjoying a meal.”

“And you too, if ya wanna,” Jack added, walking to the booth herself.

Rarity froze, wincing. After a beat, however, she gave a reluctant nod. “If... you wish, you're always welcome, dear.”

Though Jack didn't notice the pause, Diane did. Looking between Jack's welcoming face and Rarity's own thoughtful expression, she gave a surprisingly mature, almost knowing smile. “Nah. I've got loads of stuff to do before the Cakes get back. And that includes putting these little fellas to bed for a nap!” She turned, then twisted her head over her shoulder. “Think of what you want! I'll be back in a few for the order!”

As the door shut, Jack scratched at her head. “Huh. Usually that gal is all for hangin' out. Wonder what's goin' on?”

Rarity waved it away. “Just a Pinkie thing, I'd imagine. You know how she can get at times, dear.”

“Reckon so.” She looked over the menu, though neither of them honestly needed it, as often as they visited the shop.

“Know what I'd like?” Rarity asked. Not giving a moment for Jack to answer, she said, “Ice cream. Ice cream in a cone.”

“Really?” Jack chuckled. “Seems like that'd be kinda outside of yer diet.”

“How did you know I was on a diet?” Rarity asked, genuinely surprised.

“When ain't ya on a diet?” Jack replied. “Besides. Ya told the girls last week ya were, didn't ya?”

“Well, yes, but I simply assumed you weren't paying attention.”

“Jus' because I think it's dumb don't mean I wasn't listenin'.” She threw an arm over the head of the booth. “I figured I'd keep my mouth shut and avoid the drama.”

“I wouldn't of caused drama,” Rarity said indignantly.

“Sure,” Jack answered, unconvinced. “Besides. You're forgettin' somethin'.”

“Mmm?”

“You're forgettin' that you're the prettist lil' thing in town. If you need on a diet, then everyone needs one, an' frankly...” She gave a pat to her hard stomach. “That'd right kill a gal like me.”

“You're far different, Jack. Of course you don't need a diet. However, I don't engage in more... strenuous activity like you do. On occasion, I need to refine my figure.”

“An' I say yer figure's fine.” She gave an easy grin. “Would a face like this lie?”

“No,” Rarity said bluntly. “Even if I want you to on occasion.”

“An' what ya mean by that?”

“Do you remember a few weeks ago I asked if a dress made my derriere look obvious?”

“Kinda. Ya got pretty hissy when I said I was surprised it could fit through doors.”

Rarity wearily looked to Jack. “That's exactly what I mean.”

“Hey now, ya asked for an opinion an I gave it.”

“I suppose.” She sighed. “That's one admirable trait of yours: you do deliver when asked.” Finally deciding to breach the subject, she commented in a tone she hoped was conversational. “So, I had a dream last night.”

“That a fact? What about?”

“Well... do you recall the time we skipped school?”

Jack shuffled to attention a bit at that. “'Course I do. Lot happened.”

“What did you think of it?”

“I think Pa whipped me hard enough I was walkin' round like I had polio for a bit there. I remember getting' mad the day after when ya told me it wasn't yer birthday.”

“I do recall that little tidbit as well.”

“An I remember ya givin' me that gem. We were both kinda dumb kids, weren't we?”

“Yes... I didn't think mother would ever calm down when she realized the necklace I borrowed from her was missing its emerald. She had a conniption fit.”

“Must run in the family, 'mount of times I've seen ya bawlin',” Jack joked.

“Well, excuse me for displaying emotion, Jack. Not all of us prescribe to the thought of—“

Jack interrupted her, leaning forward. “Know what else I remember about that day?” Rarity gave Jack a flat look, but let her continue. “I remember a lil' girl talkin' 'bout how she was my princess.” She gave an open-toothed smile. The way it held itself, Rarity couldn't tell if it was rueful, mocking, or held a certain sort of affection.

Testing the waters, Rarity stole a glance outside the window and weakly chuckled. “Well, we were children. You can't hold a lot of what I uttered against me.”

“Maybe it ain't too far off,” Jack replied, her joking demeanor gone and replaced with a more thoughtful expression. “I mean...” She rolled her eyes. “Hell, what do I mean?”

Pinkie finally came out and the pair ordered an ice-cream cone, one vanilla, one rocky road. The conversation died for a moment as each enjoyed their treat. Finally finished, Rarity rose.

“Perhaps we could go to one more place before calling it a night?” she offered. “It's in walking distance, after all.”

The familiar path of the Whitetail woods greeted them as they stepped into its boundaries and Rarity smiled with nostalgia, giving a small rub of her arms to dispense the chill.

“Come closer,” Jack instructed, noticing her discomfort.

Stepping to the side a bit, Jack threw her arm around Rarity's shoulders. The tailor blushed, but said nothing.

“What? Not gonna talk 'bout my odor, or how rough I am, or somethin' like that?” Jack teased.

“I suppose not this time.”

“This time, huh?” Jack hummed in thought. “Reckon that's 'bout all I can ask from ya, ain't it?”

“Likewise if I would ask you to dress nicely. It's more of a 'this time' affair, rather than every time, no?”

Jack snorted. “Guess it's sorta 'one day at a time' fer both of us, huh?”

“Indeed.”

They came to a bench on the side of the path. Rarity took Jack's hand, guiding them there. They sat for a moment, both reluctant to start. Finally, they turned.

“I—“

“Ya—“

Both shut their mouths, Jack turning away to scratch at her nose, Rarity tapping at the purse resting in her lap. Rarity was the first to find her courage.

“It's a magnificent evening, despite the crisp air.”

“Beautiful,” Jack agreed.

Rarity cursed her cowardice, struggling to find the right words. Considering all she had done in life, they should come naturally to her. She, who had a tongue able to make even the most experienced nobleman knobby-kneed, was clueless how to approach a subject with a simple farm bumpkin.

“I feel like I have to explain myself around you quite often, Jack,” Rarity said.

“That a fact?”

“Yes.” Rarity then sighed and elaborated. “Sometimes if I don't, you misconstrue my intentions. It's not enough to imply things with you.”

She raised a brow. “Are ya callin' me stupid? Is that it?”

“No. Jack, please,” Rarity said, her tone all but begging. The farmer relaxed a bit and gave a gesture with her palm, encouraging Rarity to continue. “It isn't a matter of communication on your end, darling. I'm to blame as well. Sometimes I need to clarify things that are obtuse. Like earlier.”

Jack shuffled a bit closer to Rarity, the cold finally giving the larger woman a bit of discomfort. “Earlier?”

“At Sugar-land. I...” She looked down at her buckled shoes. “I can't believe I'm having to come out and say it.”

“Say what, sug?” Jack asked.

“I was hoping our get-together would turn romantic,” she quickly said, heat at her face as she refused to meet Jack's eyes.

There wasn't much to see there. Jack's expression had turned neutral, like stone.

“Why?” Jack simply asked.

“Does the heart need a reason?”

She sighed. “When that heart's hated me for years, yeah, it kinda does.”

Rarity froze, taken aback, briefly speechless. After a long pause, she got her bearings. “Jack.” She turned on her seat, looking at the woman. “I've never hated you. Even with all the harsh words. If I could take them back, I'd love to, but...”

“I've never hated you either,” Jack jumped in. “Even if I sounded like it. It's jus'...” Rarity waited, watching as Jack crossed her arms in thought. “I don't wanna see ya hurt. An' I think that sorta life yer wantin' hurts people, sug. People I care about.”

“I'm not some delicate flower, Jack. High-society is ruthless, but I still wish to embrace it. I can be a star, darling.”

“Yer strong. I know ya can do anythin'. But if someone there made ya cry... if someone broke yer heart at one of them soirees or shows, I dunno what I'd do.” She swallowed. “I wanna protect ya, even if ya don't want me to. Even if ya can't see where I'm comin' from when I give ya advice.”

“Jack...”

The farmer wryly smiled. “I ain't good at this, uh, heart stuff. Sorry sug.”

“Sometimes actions speak louder than words.” Rarity reached into her purse, pulling out an emerald gem and offering it to the woman.

“Thought you used it on that dress,” Jack remarked, not reaching to take it just yet.

“I thought of a different approach. I didn't want to waste it after realizing that... despite not thinking of it for years, it is something precious to me.” She weakly smiled. “A princess's token to her prince.”

A snort of laughter came from Jack. “Ya make it sound so much fancier than it really is, ya know?”

“Well, me simply stating that this is a spur of the moment situation brought on by a thoughtful gift during a low period of my day doesn't sound nearly as romantic and flattering, does it, darling?” Rarity batted her eyes at Jack.

“Guess not.” She took the gem finally, and gave it a slow once-over, thinking. “So, if this is so sudden, what made ya go through with it? Yer smarter than flights of fancy, especially with someone like me.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean I ain't sure if I'm good enough for ya.” She rethought this, then clarified, “I ain't sayin' I'm some sorta riff-raff, I got pride in my family, in my land, in this community, but when it comes to social things like I know ya like... I ain't exactly high-end. I don't know what's drawin' yer eye ta me."

“To answer your question, I went through with it due to retrospect. This isn't the first well-timed gift I've received, and if I approached every man or woman who did what you did last night, well, I'd be more akin to an escort service than a tailor.” Rarity chuckled, earning at least a small half-smile from Jack. “I believe, while sudden, there may be something here. Something I'd like to explore with a woman as warm, caring, and dependable as you. Despite my grandiose nature at times, I can appreciate someone in a lower social standing than moi, provided they have other positive traits.” She gave a small rise and fall of her shoulders. “However, it depends on yourself, Jack. As much as I want to pursue a relationship, I'd want you to feel the same way before I make an advancement.”

Jack sat there like a bump on a log for several long moments. Just as Rarity was about to speak once more, Jack looked at her. “My Granny taught me a lotta stuff. I'd say biggest one'd be ta trust my common sense.”

“And what's your common sense say?” Rarity took in a breath, trying to calm herself.

“That there are times ya make me angry as hell. Feelin's mutual fer ya, I'm sure.”

Rarity froze. It was true, but at the same time, she wanted this. She wanted it more than anything. Even then, right now when everything was on the line, she couldn't lie. “We've had our rough spots, I'd be a fool to argue against that.”

“But...”

Rarity leaned closer, wordlessly encouraging Jack to continue.

“You're as stubborn as a mule.” Jack said, as if that explained everything that needed said.

Deciding—just this once—not to take offense at being compared to a mule, Rarity tilted her head. “I don't know what that has to do with anything, Jack.”

“Because I know I'd never force ya into somethin' you wouldn't like. Out of any gal I know, yer the one who'd tell me 'no' the fastest.” Giving up, she shrugged. “Ya do all that crap I don't care 'bout, an' it scares me that you'll get hurt, but... out of 'em all. Out of everyone I know, ya ain't gotta worry. Got that mule blood in ya. I know yer strong, an' brave, an' a whole mess-a things I wish I had more of in me. Ya havin' those things don't stop me wantin' ta take care-a ya, but...” She let a frustrated breath of air out. “I'm talkin' in circles. Guess what I'm sayin' is: I like you fer you.”

“It's charming seeing you like this,” Rarity said, chuckling.

Jack narrowed her brow. “Hey. I'm tryin' ta make sense of it as I'm goin' along, but...”

“A strong woman like you, acting like a preschooler over her first crush. It's charming indeed.”

Jack said something under her breath. A look from Rarity after she said it made Jack repeat her words. “I said 'ya were.'”

Rarity blinked. “Me?”

“Yeah, you. I mean... ya were my first kiss, I guess. An' maybe once I grew up a bit an' got a few years on me, I'd come here. Think 'bout when we did together.”

Rarity nodded, rubbing her arms to dispense the chill once more. Jack wrapped an arm around the girl and Rarity gave a wordless smile in thanks, which was the best reward Jack could of asked for. “I have always liked this place. Not so far out of town I could fear my clothes being ruined, but far enough away that I am allowed a moment to think, perhaps.”

“Yeah.”

Another long silence came, only this one had no awkwardness about it, no searching for words that wouldn't come, they simply took comfort in one-another’s embrace and watched the leaves fall off the trees.

Reluctantly, Jack stood, looking down at Rarity. Getting the hint, she rose as well and they made their way over to a tree exceptionally familiar to Rarity thanks to last night's dream.

Only instead of the simple initials, she was greeted with intricate, beautiful designs and scrolling in the wood, the swirling patterns around their clumsy initials forming a heart at the base of the tree.

Rarity squatted down, putting her hand on the workings, surprised at its smoothness.

“This is beautiful.”

“Ya ain't the only one decent with their hands nowadays,” Jack joked.

Standing, Rarity took a hold of those very hand. She ran her thumbs over the farmer's hand, feeling the texture of her meaty palms and callouses and stared into Jack's eyes as Jack stared into hers.

“I have no doubt many won't approve.”

“Let 'em,” Jack answered. “It ain't gonna be easy for us either. No sense in frettin' 'bout people.”

“I have my doubts how easy it will be for us as well, but...” Rarity smiled. “I can think no other person worth the fights.”

“Not even a prince?” Jack coyly asked, looking down at her. Rarity came in even closer.

“Why would I need a prince?” Resting a hand on Jack's cheek, she stared up her. “I have the best one already.”

With that they kissed, their promise to one-another carved to perfection under the orange and yellow canopy of the strong oak trees.