//------------------------------// // Lorelei // Story: 7DSJ: Treasure // by Shinzakura //------------------------------// Fingers glided softly against highly-polished spruce and ebony, the tones of the hammers creating a wonderful, musical sound. Rarity didn’t often play the piano as much as she liked – and it certainly didn’t help when she found out that Octavia could play the piano as well – but all the musical lessons of her youth came to her now and she was lucky that Clavinova had been such a patient teacher with her and then later with Sweetie Belle as well. It struck the teen as odd; both one of her closest friends and her younger sister were both destined for musical careers, though Rarity, who had thought that would be the case for her in her youth, would not. Ah, but where would they get their performing gowns and other such fashions from? she thought, a smile coming to her lips. Rarity had found her own place in the world, courtesy of her job at La Boutique, the bridal gown shop where she worked. It gave her a lot of experience in the fashion world, and its owner, Glittering Prize, knew more than a few people at The New School for Design in New York, where the teen intended to attend college – Rarity’s acceptance was all but assured. Besides, she mentally added with no small amount of mirth, there was always that band that Rainbow had jokingly thought about starting. Sure, out of the eight of them the only ones who knew how to play instruments were herself, Octavia and Twilight – the latter having apparently learned the violin for no other reason than teasing her cousin – though she couldn’t recall if Applejack had once mentioned the ability to play the guitar. In any case, it was of little importance, as it was a pipe dream in any case. Rarity played on, continuing through the song until the final notes completed, the final hammer blow colliding against the carbon steel piano wire, sending the soft note reverberating through the air until it vanished into the ether. The soft sound of clapping sounded through the living room, causing Rarity to turn away from the upright piano to see Sweetie Belle standing there, clapping her little heart out. The younger teen smiled. “That’s amazing, Rarity!” Rarity smiled. “Why, thank you, Sweetie Belle. Are you planning to spend the day with your friends?” Sweetie’s response was to shuffle her feet, and the moment that happened, the older sister knew something was up. Well, at least it isn’t another one of their byzantine attempts at getting another scouting badge. Besides, watching the ungainly, coltish moves of her sister, still dealing with a growth spurt, was amusing in and of itself. Although, Rarity admitted silently, I’d best stop using the term “coltish”, since it might offend Sunset. Given said friend was in truth a unicorn from another dimension, it made for a whole plethora of minor changes in etiquette where Sunset Shimmer was concerned. “Um…Rarity?” Sweetie began haltingly. Rarity, having just stepped away from the piano bench, lowered the key cover. “Let me guess: you need to go out to buy presents for Mother and Father?” Sweetie nodded. “And Grandmama and Grandpapa as well, since they’ll be here as well.” Rarity said, “I believe I can do that.” It had been a minor fortune that her father, currently in Cloudsdale covering a game for his job, had left his car behind; as for their mother, she had received a freelance assignment from a magazine covering an annual holiday event up just north of the state line, and she would return home that evening. As for herself, Rarity the day off from the boutique in order to watch her younger sister, though she’d never admit that latter part; the last thing she wanted to hear was Sweetie’s pouting about how she was old enough to watch herself, state law be damned. In any case, that meant that they had Hondo Flanks' car at hand, though she felt somewhat nervous about driving her father’s sporty Audi A3. “Do you need any money?” Rarity asked. “Oh, no, I’m fine; I have my allowance and the extra cash we got from….” Sweetie blushed and in response, Rarity raised a delicate eyebrow. Realizing her self-created predicament, the younger sister said, “Do you remember when the girls and I decided to earn our archeology badge? We kinda wandered around a private lot with shovels and pikes that Apple Bloom had borrowed from somewhere.” “And?” Rarity asked, knowing full well that if this went off like so many of the trio’s other pursuits, it would end in failure at best, disaster at outright worst. She’d even once heard Rainbow refer to the three as “The CMC” – short for Cloth Marker Catastrophes – and more often than not, the fashionista wondered if her athletic friend had the right of it. “We didn’t find any fossils, but we got paid by Mrs. Flowerpot to stop looking….” Sweetie answered. “Let me get this straight: You and your friends went digging for dinosaur bones…in Mrs. Flowerpot’s garden?” Their next door neighbor, a retiree, was fussy about her garden, primarily her prize-winning petunias. “No, of course not – that would be dumb!” “Then where did you—” “The empty lot behind her house, of course!” At that pronouncement, Rarity could practically envision the looks of horror on her parents’ faces: the empty lot behind Mrs. Flowerpot’s house was technically city property, currently in use by the power, telephone and cable companies to provide said resources to the area. Given the depth one would have to excavate in order to find dinosaur bones…. Rarity blanched as she realized how close her sister and her friends came to completely blacking out the neighborhood, not to mention electrocuting themselves. “Ooh, c’mon!” Sweetie gasped. “Mom and Dad already grounded me back in August for that! You’re not going to give me grief too, are you?” “No, I suppose not,” Rarity sighed, wishing that her parents had told her about this latest stunt, regardless of it having been months prior. “Well, go ahead and eat breakfast, and then once you’re done, we can go.” Half an hour later, the car knifed its way through the light snow, creating small flurries in its wake as it departed the neighborhood. Within the car, classic rock had been replaced by pop music, and at the moment, a song by Midnight Moondust lilted through the speakers. “So, do you have any idea of where you want to start?” Rarity asked. “What about Olde Towne?” Sweetie asked. “That sounds reasonable,” Rarity said. Olde Towne, despite its name, wasn’t actually that; it was a pedestrian mall along San Palomino’s main strip, filled with various boutiques and small restaurants. She and her friends had been there just a few weeks back having lunch while shopping for a birthday gift for Rainbow, who had unsurprisingly complained about the “uncool poshness” of the whole place. All in all, it would be a great place to take her sister to, especially since Rarity had to get some gifts for her grandparents as well. Eventually, Rarity pulled up into the parking garage for Olde Towne. “Well, here we are,” she announced breezily. “Would you like to start at the northern esplanade, or the southern? I do, however, recommend that we have lunch at the southern esplanade; Twilight told me about this wonderful little French bistro at the end of the mall. Sweetie looked at her sister with confusion. “Do you have an idea?” “Not particularly, no,” Rarity admitted. “However, why don’t we start at the northernmost point and work our way down? That way when we get to the southern end we can have lunch there, then walk it off while looking at the other side?” The younger teen nodded. “Works for me,” she decided. The two teens started off at the northern end of the mall, walking past the various shops, enjoying the lights and the décor of the area. Both sisters paused to put change in the Salvation Army kettle, then paused briefly to hear the accompanying band and carol singers. Eventually they moved on, walking down the pedestrian mall and watching the light snowfall of the late morning day. Finally, Sweetie stopped before a particular shop: “Precious Memory’s Music Box and More Emporium?” “A wonderful idea,” Rarity announced. “Grandmama just loves music boxes, and perhaps we can find a display case for all of Grandpapa’s medals.” With that agreement, the pair went in, soon surrounded by something more akin to a holiday film more than anything else: snowglobes seemed to dance, and music boxes displayed their intricate motorworks. Various glasses and mementos filled shelves upon shelves and in the center of it all, at the counter was a woman in her sixties, adjusting her glasses and brushing the grayish-blue hair out of her eyes. She looked more like one of those elegant British actresses from the BBC than a mere shop proprietor, the perfect picture of poise and grace. “Welcome to my shop!” the woman said in a voice that held a beautifully musical timbre. “Please, let me know if there’s anything you need.” “Thank you, madam,” Rarity replied. As for Sweetie, her own eyes lit up with amazement. “Wow, this place is sooooooo pretty!” “Isn’t it, though? Oh, and look – they have vitrines as well! Mother has always talked about putting Father’s memorabilia from his football days in one, and it would most definitely work for a medals case for Grandpapa's display. Perhaps we should— ” She looked around, suddenly finding herself completely by herself. Looking to her right, she noticed Sweetie already on the prowl for the perfect gift. I suppose she’ll ask me for advice when she needs it, Rarity thought as she headed over to the display cases. She knew her father would appreciate one, and that would at least get some of the gifts out of the way. Meanwhile, Sweetie wandered around, completely amazed at the beauty of the various knick-knacks in the store: there was a carousel-shaped music box to her left, a beautiful unicorn-shaped work of glass in the style of Art du Verre, and one of those cute pocket-sized dragon statuettes like the purple and green “baby dragon with scroll and quill” one that her mother had on her desk. Right next to that was the statuette in question, alongside a female version of the same, wearing a big pink bow in its back quills. How does that even work? Sweetie thought as she picked up the statuette, turning it over and looking at it before setting it down back on the shelf. Unfortunately, she didn’t set it carefully enough, and it fell. Not wanting to experience the store’s “you break it you bought it” policy, she dived forward, only to run into a reed-thin, elderly gentleman who easily caught the item just before it fatally impacted against the ground. “Careful, young miss,” the man said in an avuncular, jolly tone. “DragonAides are many things, but one of those is not indestructible,” he said. “I should know; I never made them strong enough to withstand such things as accidents, stress failures, or toddlers,” he said, half-amused. “I’m sorry, sir,” Sweetie said, hoping that she wasn’t about to face punishment for what had been a genuine accident. Sure enough, Rarity had practically hustled over from the other side of the store when she saw her sister fall, only to be caught by the gentleman who had appeared at her side. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, sir,” Rarity began. The man waved it off. “Not at all, not at all,” he demurred. “I was just talking to your charming little sister here about her taste in figurines, though as I explained, I never made them to be adamantine.” Rarity’s eyes suddenly opened in realization. “You’re.... Maquette, aren’t you? The one who created the DragonAides?” Maquette bowed in recognition. “I’m quite surprised that you know who I am, miss. There have been no new DragonAides since I retired, and I daresay that the creation is far more known than the creator.” “My grandmother in particular is a huge fan of yours: you took a picture with her back in the eighties, and she has it framed at her home.” “That was decades ago,” the man said appreciatively. “I have an eye for details, good sir,” the fashionista replied. “But I don’t think she was aware that you were retired.” He nodded sadly. Reaching over to pick up the purple-and-green dragon with the quill and scroll, he said, “Alas, ever since I created Scribe here, I’ve had an incredible amount of creative block. I’d hoped that it would’ve been short-lived, but sadly, it wasn’t. Finally, I had to close Dragoncrafts, and I’ve lived a life of solitude since, save for the occasional visit to my wife’s shop.” “That’s a shame,” Rarity said, feeling sympathy for the poor man. “As a young designer myself, I understand the issues of having the creative well run dry, though never quite to the length that you have, sir.” “And I hope you never do, Miss….?” “Ah, Rarity,” she said, offering a hand. “And this is my sister, Sweetie Belle.” “Nice to meet you, Mr. Maquette!” Sweetie said cheerfully, offering her hand as well. “And a pleasure to meet you two,” the man said with a cheerful smile. “Well, Rarity, I think I know what I want to get Grandmama,” she announced. Reaching to the above shelf, she grabbed the Scribe figurine. “I don’t think she has this one; maybe we should get it for her?” The look on Maquette’s face was uneasy. “Miss Belle, far be it from me to discourage you, but I should let you know that since the DragonAides line was retired, existing models have been fetching quite the price on the collectors’ market.” The look on Sweetie’s face was one of confusion. “I don’t get it,” she replied. However, Rarity did. Gently, she said, “Look at the price tag at the figure’s base, dear.” Sweetie turned it over to find a price of $1565. The look on her face one of absolute shock, Sweetie put the figurine back on the shelf, trying very hard for her shaking hands not to cause an accident. Once that was done, she looked at her sister with utter embarrassment: “I guess you can’t lend me that money, can you?” That night, at dinner, Rarity, Sweetie and their mother conversed regarding their respective days over shrimp scampi. “So let me get this straight,” Cookie Crumbles asked. “You met Maquette, who says he’s retired from sculpting?” When both daughters nodded, Cookie shook her head. “That’s a terrible shame. I remember when I was growing up, how much your grandmother adored his little DragonAides. In fact, she has two of the first Limited Edition computer ones, though I can’t remember its name….” “Truly it’s a shame that he cannot continue,” Rarity said, twirling her fork in the pasta. “He seemed like he very much wanted to continue his craft, but that he has done all he can with the line. Personally, I would presume that it would take a new look to get him started again….” “I suppose so, but unless he has anyone who works with him who hasn’t been able to do ‘prime the pump’ already, so to speak, then I’m not quite sure what else can be done,” Cookie commented. “If only there were some way to get him restarted,” Rarity agreed. “I’m sure Grandmama would love the first of a new line of DragonAides.” Hearing all this, a chorus of angels suddenly whispered – nay, sang! – a eureka-worthy idea right into the deepest recesses of Sweetie’s cerebral cortex. In her Cartesian theater, billions upon billions dances upon a celestial stage, all belting out showtunes with lyrics that brought up the patently obvious answer. It was quite ironic that of her circle of friends, she was thought to be the dreamy, mentally lost one. However, for good or ill, she tended to have the same mindset as Pinkie Pie, but without the older teen’s unyielding vim. “I~dea!” she sang at the table, a smile breaking wide upon her face. “Rarity, why don’t we help him find new inspiration? I bet between your creativity and my help, we can do it!” “Well….” Rarity said, impressed at her sister’s enthusiasm for the idea, one that was appealing to the fashionista; to be able to present their grandmother with the first of a new generation of DragonAides would be a grand idea. Furthermore, she would be helping a legend get back to his feet, continuing to spread cheer through his creations worldwide. And then Sweetie’s next words broke the eminence-tressed teen’s rising enthusiasm, instead infusing it with the cold, sharp sting of fear: “I’ll bet I can even get a scouting badge out of it!” “Ah…Sweetie,” Rarity said, her mind slipping into overdrive in order to find some/any means of dissuading the suddenly-driven Sweetie from her goal. “Remember that it has been quite a while that the esteemed gentleman has been retired, and he may have a preference to a quiet life out of the relative limelight, no?” “Please, Rarity?” Sweetie pled, giving her sister her most innocent look. “It even says on line three of the Scout’s Law that we’re supposed to be friendly and helpful, and if Mr. Maquette needs help, that’s what we’re supposed to do, right?” “Sweetie….” “Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?” Rarity sighed. She would’ve put her head on the table, but that would’ve meant burying it in pasta, butter sauce and shrimp. “Fine, fine.” It was times like this that she wished she could age five more years in the next five minutes, if only because she’d then be old enough to drink – and she could probably use one right now. The following morning, the two returned to the curio shop, explaining to Precious Memory exactly what their plan was. Needless to say, while she very much appreciated what the pair intended to do for her husband, she also explained that they weren’t by any stretch of the imagination the first to attempt such a feat. “Maq has tried so very much to get back to the DragonAides series – he loves it and it’s his life’s work. But sometimes when the well runs dry, there’s not a single thing you can do to improve matters.” Sweetie, however, was adamant. “But Mrs. Memory, he has still so much to give the world! And I know he can do it, he just has to have someone to believe in him!” Rarity nodded. “I once met an…exchange student…and even though she only attended my school for just a short while, she taught me a lot of things I didn’t think I could accept at face value. And one of those things was, quite truthfully, to always help someone if you believe in them. I know we seem to be just a pair of girls that wandered into your store yesterday, Mrs. Memory, and quite honestly, we did just that, with only the intent of getting Christmas presents for our family. But then we met your husband, and his desire to create once more by restoring the flow of creativity he once had, we felt we had to do something.” The look on Memory’s face was somewhere between impressed and amused. “Had to?” “Mrs. Memory, I am a creator – though I may not look it, I have designed plenty of the formal and wedding gowns that La Boutique sells. But my biggest fear is that once I move onto college, that I will hit my own creative well and it will cost me so much. So I certainly understand what your husband is going through, especially since it cost him his business.” “It did more than that,” Memory replied, but said nothing further, as she heard some noise from the back of the store. It turned out to be Maquette himself, who looked at Rarity and Sweetie in a far less kind manner than he did just the day before. “I knew you two would be back,” he said simply. No anger, no malice, just matter of fact, as though he had discerned something that neither of them had thought of themselves until dinner the previous night. “Sir, we—” “No, young miss. I know what you’re thinking and quite frankly, without being rude or dismissive, I’ve had years to try. There was something about the Scribe figurine that seemed to be the end of the DragonAides series. I’d never intended that, and Lord knows others have tried to take it over. Hell, I had someone try to buy my company in the hopes of saving it, but that went south. So what makes you think that you’re going to help me where anyone has failed before?” Rarity leaned forward. “Because friendship is magic – and I know this more than most.” She crossed her arms, looking him straight in the eyes. “What harm can you do by trusting me and my little sister?” Maquette sighed. “You’re serious about this, aren’t you?” “No, I’m not,” Rarity said with a smile, and then put her hand on Sweetie’s shoulder. “But she is, and I’m willing to back my sister because she believes in you.” The man looked at the younger girl and the confident look on her face, nothing any different from that of the older. And between the two, there was something that he hadn’t felt in a long time. He wasn’t sure it was inspiration, no it was something else. It was belief – the simple faith that he could perform a miracle, just because these two knew he would. And when was the last time he’d know that? It was back when…. He sighed; they were right. What did he have to lose? Wordlessly, he waved them into the back area, where he had his workshop. Rarity and Sweetie looked at each other, knowing that something had changed, and that it had been due to Sweetie. “Thanks for bringing me, Rarity,” Sweetie said, giving her sister a smile. “No, thank you for doing this. This might turn out to be something that everyone might just learn from.” “I’m sorry, Sunset dear, I know we were supposed to go to the movies tonight, but this is something that Sweetie’s really focused on and I have to help her on this one. So I’ll have to make it up to the rest of you, okay?” “Yeah, I know how that is, having a little sister of my own now,” Sunset laughed on the other side of the phone. “I’ll let the others know. Must be important if you’re skipping this, since you wanted to see this movie.” Rarity turned her head to look at the table where Sweetie and Maquette were going over potential DragonAides designs and had been for the past six hours. She’d never seen her sister so obsessed at anything that didn’t directly involve a scouting badge. Maybe it was a sign that Sweetie Belle was starting to make her march towards adulthood, something that Rarity herself was already well on the way towards. The swell of pride warmed the fashionista’s breast. “It’s my little sister. Few things are more important.” “That I know. I’ll talk to you later; Applejack just got here. See ya.” Saying her own goodbyes, Rarity slipped her phone back in her purse, then went over to the workshop table, which was covered with the wreckage of various things: modelling plastic, various fabrics, and other things. While Rarity had offered her drawing skill and whatever she could, this was all Sweetie’s action. She loved her sister, but after the majority of the day of failure after failure, there was little chance of breaking Maquette’s decades-long dry streak. But that was the worrying thing: none of the images she’d seen the man draw, or that he’d asked her to draw for him, and they were great ideas. Even those that Sweetie had drawn herself had been cute and very passable as potential ideas, but he’d turned them down, one after the other. The quality of the work he was turning down would have been begged for by another creator, and as Rarity watched the man, she came to believe that he was either the ultimate perfectionist…or he was faking it all. At least I can say that I tend to move towards the obsessive end of the scale when it comes to perfection, she admitted, but this is madness. I’d almost swear that there was something else that we’re missing here in the equation. But for the life of me, I can’t tell what it is. Finally, he threw his hands up in frustration. “More of the same. More of the same!” He looked at both Sweetie and then Rarity. “I’m sorry, girls, I know you tried. I know you really tried to help me here. But it’s not going to change. It hasn’t changed. It never will! It’s the same as when I lo—” He turned away from the table, looking at a picture on the wall. The picture was him from when he was younger – it was also damaged, with the glass of the picture broken in a corner. That in itself was a clue. But it was the look on his face that was the bigger register. Rarity knew that look; she’d seen it one too many times when Sunset during the months she doubted her own ability to change who she was. The teen knew there was a story here, but it wasn’t up to her to pry. He would have to tell them when it was time. Fortunately, there was something that she could do to help that: he seemed to have a far better rapport with Sweetie than he did with her; perhaps he saw her as a granddaughter figure of sorts. Hopefully he’ll open up to her and we can get down to the real stitch of the issue. “I don’t know about you two, but I’m quite parched,” she announced. “I was considering heading down the mall to the coffee shop. Would you like me to bring you something back?” “No, I’ll be fine,” Maquette said, waving her off. It was clearly a defense mechanism, but for her to say so would come off as patronizing. “Can you get me a raspberry hot chocolate?” Sweetie asked. “Of course, Sweetie darling. I’ll be right back,” she said, heading to the front of the store. Once there, the first thing she did was to confront Memory. “Mrs. Memory, please forgive me for being a bit forward,” she asked, “but he really didn’t quit because he ran out of ideas, did he?” “No,” she admitted in a small voice. “The truth is…the whole thing is a result of an argument between my husband and our son. Scale Model had plans to expand the business, to create more merchandise and possibly other things, but Maq considered it ‘selling out.’ Maq and Scale fought, and my son stormed out the door that day and they haven’t spoken to each other since. Because Maq blames the DragonAides for all of that, he refused to make a new line. Eventually that turned into outright creative block. “I have hopes someday that getting his creative juices flowing will help him to reach out to Scale, but…we’re old and we can’t live forever, you know.” Rarity looked at the woman and then said, “I presume he lives locally?” “Yes, in Everfree Glades, with his wife and daughters, why?” “Do you have a picture?” In response, Memory reached behind the counter, producing a small, framed picture. The picture showed a man very much like Maquette, save for the gray and soft-blue hair. Next to him was a smiling woman that was likely his wife; she had yellow hair in a somewhat teased hairdo. In front of them were two girls that were likely their daughters: the older one looked to be around Rarity’s age; she had cyan-hued hair that rolled down her back like a waterfall. But it was the younger girl, about eight or so, that interested Rarity the most. She had the same hairstyle as Sweetie, but her haircolors were more like her friend Rainbow Dash’s, save for additional thin white stripes. “This was taken two weeks ago. The woman is Scale’s wife Lightdancer. She’s a wonderful woman and absolutely perfect for him. In front of Light is Raindrops, our older grandchild. She’s about your age, and a very gentle girl for a teenager, if I might say so myself. Finally, the one between them is Rainbow Swirl. She’s the sweetest little girl you’ll ever know…but she’s never met her grandfather. I wish I could change it, but only Light and Raindrops will risk coming to the store; Scale won’t, nor will he let Swirl come.” Rarity handed the picture back to Memory. “This’ll be perfect. I’ll be right back.” And with that, she stepped out of the store. Once she was clear of the doors, she picked up her phone and called Applejack. “Applejack dear, would you mind doing me a favor?” “There’s just no use,” Maquette sighed as he put away the last of his art equipment. “I’ve tried for years, and I’m afraid the magic is gone, Sweetie Belle. You’ve done everything you could to help, but it may be time to just admit that my time is over.” “But you can’t!” Sweetie said, shocked. “Think about all the people who love and adore your DragonAides! Grandmothers, granddaughters, everyone who does! You can’t give up on them, mister!” “Young lady, you’re not old enough to realize this, but sometimes there just comes a time that no matter what you do, you cannot change the course of what’s happened, and variations turn to dust.” He seemed older and frailer than he already was, as though the life had been sucked out of him by his admitted failure. “I hope that realization is long in coming for you, but being human is a part of realizing it.” Sweetie was about to add something, when her phone buzzed. Reaching into her pocket, she looked at the text that had just come up, which was from Rarity. Tell him that the friendship of magic wins all, the text said, and that you’ll prove it to him. What does that got to do with my hot chocolate? Sweetie wondered, but she trusted her older sister. Closing her eyes briefly to figure out how she was going to say this, she smiled and said, “Mr. Maquette, I hate to say this, but you’re wrong.” A curious eyebrow rose, not one of anger or irritation, but rather amusement. “Young Sweetie, I’ve been on this Earth for close to eighty years now,” he said, “and I have yet to see how what I said isn’t true.” With a practiced smile and an innate nature born of theatrics, the young teen walked over to the door and said, “No, but I believe in something stronger than that.” “And what’s that?” he asked, wondering what she was up to. “The magic of friendship,” she said as she opened it. Standing there was a young man, looking as though something beyond horrific had occurred. He then immediately set his eyes upon the old man. “Dad?” Maquette, in turn, looked completely shocked as he looked at his son. “Scale? You—” Maquette had no time to speak as he and his son immediately and wordlessly embraced, silent tears of joy raining forth from this unexpected reunion. Sweetie stood there, completely and utterly confused, before she felt Rarity’s hand on her shoulder. “What…what just happened?” the younger teen asked the older. “You did,” Rarity said with a smile. “Let’s leave them to their reunion, okay?” Sweetie nodded, following her sister out of the workroom. A wide smile broke onto an aged face the week later as an old woman opened the box to find…. “I’ve…never seen this before!” The woman pulled the object out of the box, revealing a statuette of a blue and yellow dragon, standing in front of an easel and canvas with a paintbrush and palette. She then turned to her husband. “This…this looks like a DragonAide!” The man adjusted his glasses. “Why, it does,” he agreed, before turning to Rarity and Sweetie. “Would you care to explain?” Rarity smiled. “It looks like a DragonAide, Grandmama, because it is one – the very last. Technically, it’s the prototype, called Painter. But because only the prototype exists, it was all we could get you.” The woman set it down very carefully. “Where did you girls get this?” Sweetie grinned. “We got to know the owner of the curio shop in Olde Towne, who had an in. I’ll tell you later, Grandmama!” It was then that there was a knock at the door. “I’ll get it,” Rarity said, walking over to the door and opening it, finding Maquette’s granddaughter Raindrops standing there. “Oh, hello, Raindrops. What brings you here?” The teal-haired girl smiled. “Grandmother insisted that I bring this over to you, and today was the only chance I had before we all go out of town to…rekindle everything and be a family again,” she said. She held a small box bearing the logo of Precious Memory’s store, which she gave to Rarity. “Here: this is for you and Sweetie Belle.” “Thank you,” Rarity said, “but you didn’t have to do this.” “No, thank you,” Raindrops said, reaching over and hugging the other teen. Rarity reciprocated, knowing the feeling was genuine. “I can’t thank you enough for getting my family back together. All I can say is thanks, and if there’s anything I can do, please let me know.” “Of course, Raindrops, dear,” Rarity said. “Give me a call after the holidays. We can have coffee and I’ll tell you all about it, okay?” Rarity nodded and with that, Raindrops walked off towards her car, as Rarity closed the door. “Sweetie, Raindrops just came by and dropped something off.” “She did?” Sweetie hopped out of her seat as Rarity walked into the living room with the box. Setting it on the table, she opened it up to find a letter there: Reaching carefully inside the box, Rarity pulled out two figurines, that of Diamond and Singer. To her surprise, they were modeled in part based on both herself and Sweetie, with Diamond having Rarity’s eye and hair colors, as well as the same hair style, and the tail of the unicorn having a similar style as well; curiously, there was a trio of blue diamond-shaped symbols on the figure’s hindquarters. As for Singer, the figure was smaller, bearing the same equivalent similarities to Sweetie. Although, Rarity wondered as she looked at the figure in her hand, the shape looks very much like Sunset’s real form, or at least what she showed me. Very curious, that. In the end, though, Rarity shrugged; the fact that the Uniquecorns were designed based on Sunset’s species was nothing more than coincidence, she decided. It was then that Sweetie groaned. “What’s wrong, Sweetie, dear?” Rarity asked. The younger teen pouted. “Your Uniquecorn has a design on its butt like a tattoo,” she cried, “but mine doesn’t!”