//------------------------------//
// This, darling? It's just a thing I threw together. 
// Story: On the making of Alicorns 
// by Manga Shoggoth 
//------------------------------//

Applejack stared at the apparition in front of her.

She was used to seeing strange things in the Carousel Boutique (anything with a hint of fashion was strange to her), but Rarity’s creations usually made some form of sense.  And a creation by Rarity could be relied on to look good. Or “fabulous”, as Rarity would insist on describing it.

But this?

“Well?” it asked, in a voice that was unmistakably the one belonging to Rarity. It seemed a little out of place, coming as it did from a thing that was so ... not Rarity.

Applejack gave the question due consideration.

“What in tarnation are those things on your hooves?” she asked at last.

“These?” replied Rarity, with a slight wobble as she attempted to examine one. “Stilts. Surely you’ve seen stilts before. I borrowed them from Pinkie Pie.”

“And the white stuff ‘round them?”

Rarity hesitated before answering. “Marshmallow. I was going to use silk with some sort of framework, but Pinkie was convinced that marshmallow would be quicker and hold its shape better. I’m not sure that it is working...”

It wasn’t working. The marshmallow was partly dissolved around the hooves after an attempt to paint on some golden horseshoes. The marshmallow was dissolving in a few more spots where there had been close encounters with a puddle. A few splits and patches of dirt gave mute testimony to Rarity’s lack of skill with the stilts. None of these made the “legs” look any more realistic, or the marshmallow any more appetising.

“And why are you standing on a set of stilts wrapped in marshmallow?”

“Because my legs needed to be twice as long for this. And I don’t have any horseshoes that will do that.”

This was quite true. Rarity had a huge collection of horseshoes – many worn only once, if that – but the largest only gave a boost of a few inches. There were larger ones available, but Rarity distained them on the grounds of balance. And a desire not to look like certain ponies that were no better than they should be.

The farmer’s gaze worked its way up the figure. The marshmallow-covered stilts gave way to a normal pair of forelegs, followed by white neck emblazoned with a gold lamé cloth band with a purple jewel set in the front. Odd, but not exactly out of place for a fashonista with a jewel fixation.

Then Applejack’s gaze fell on the mane. 

“What have you done to your mane?” She asked flatly.

“...A few mane extensions, a little bleach here and there. Honestly Applejack, you are beginning to sound like my mother.”

This was an understatement. Rarity’s usual purple mane had been bleached down a shade or two, and green, blue and pink mane extensions had been interwoven with the original mane. The weight of the extensions had dragged the usually bouncy main into an inflexible column. The overall effect was something like a flood in a novelty wig factory.

The gaze worked its way back to the horn. A rather long fake horn sat over the real one, held on with an elastic band partly hidden  underneath an equally fake and incredibly gaudy tiara. Along the back an equally fake pair of Pegasus wings were strapped around the torso. The wings were a couple of sizes too small – foals wings rather than adults – and the elastic holding them on had clearly been augmented with some of the boutique supply.

Rarity followed the gaze, and this time volunteered the information. “Horn, tiara and wings from Pinkie’s various costume supplies.” She explained quickly. “I was going to make up my own, but time was of the essence.”

Applejack shook her head slightly. Pinkie had a seemingly endless supply of costumes (including a chillingly lifelike Fluttershy costume and rather less lifelike Pinkie, Ranbow Dash and Changeling costumes) and Applejack suspected her of supplying at least half of the Nightmare Night costumes in town. But Pinkie’s costumes were usually very good, and this ensemble was rather slapdash. All in all, not really the sort of work she associated with Pinkie or Rarity.

Then the gaze reached the haunch. Tight around the rump was a white cloth covering the three-gem cutie mark. Instead, a  very familiar cutie mark embroidered in its place: A large orange and yellow sun. The sunburst was neatly and precisely stitched, amongst the whole mess this was clearly Rarity’s work – the neat and precise stitching simply shouted her name.

The tail end was no better than the rest of the costume. More bleach and extensions had played the same havoc they had played with the mane, leaving a limp mass that hung down to the floor, and would have trailed along the floor if Rarity had not been elevated on stilts. 

It was clear that Rarity was supposed to be dressed up as Celestia. Instead, she had ended up as neither one thing nor the other. Pinkie would have probably called her a Rari-Celeste, and then giggled as if she had made some sort of clever joke. Or perhaps not – it didn’t take much to make Pinkie giggle.

“Look, Rarity. I don’t know why you are wearing that getup, but you need to get out of it before Twilight sees it. You know what she’s like about respecting the...”

A tinkling bell announced the arrival of the Alicorn in question.

“Hello Applejack,” she said, initially addressing the only pony at eye level. “Is Rarity ... in?”

Twilight stared. A pair of purple eyes slowly traced out the outline of a garish pony on stilts. She began to shake with suppressed emotion. Applejack backed away slightly, preparing for some form of explosion.

It came as a scream of laughter, one that would have done either Pinkie Pie or Rainbow Dash credit. Applejack looked on in confusion as Twilight slowly sank to the floor in fits of hysterical laughter.

“There you are, darling.” said Rarity, “I told you I could do a better job than those toy-makers.”