Cheerilee had a sleepover for all the fillies in the grade, but Rarity had actually spent more time with the adults who were drinking in the kitchen than the actual children. She was content to sit idly by and watch the game of truth or dare unfold to often anticlimactic conclusions; Cheerilee had the most imaginative dares, but never the conviction to actually exercise her rights as slumber party host and demand they follow through. Rarity suggested they play dress up, and they all took turns rummaging through costumes and fake plastic jewels. Soon the fillies grew tired and went on to have a pillow fight. Bored herself of the childish antics, Rarity wandered into the kitchen, and found herself among a bunch of her classmate’s mothers giggling over a bottle of wine. One of them noticed her, with a less than sober smile. She was purple earth pony with blue eyes. “Hello there, are you looking for some snacks… Sorry dear, but what’s your name?”
“Rarity, Mrs. Cheerilee,” she said. “I’m not looking for snacks, I’d just rather not have to deal with children for a moment.”
For some reason the mares found this amusing, and fell into a fit of giggles. “Fair enough,” she said, wiping a tear away from her face. “Call me Brenda, dear. ‘Mrs. Cheerilee’ makes me feel so old. Come, grab a seat.”
For once she was actually able to join a conversation about real gossip, talk of fashion, and business and scandalous affairs. She injected herself into the conversation, and Cheerilee’s mother Brenda was so amused that she even poured grape juice into a wine glass for Rarity.
“So you like playing dress up?” Brenda inquired during a lull in conversation.
“I suppose, I much rather be making the dresses, though.”
“Hey Flannel Fleece, maybe you could take this little Rarity on as an apprentice” Berry Punch said, nudging the older, silver-haired mare to her right. “You’re not getting any younger, you know, somepony needs to take over carousel boutique.”
“Oh hush,” Flannel Fleece nickered. “I’m a seamstress, not a spinster. Besides, the girl’s a blank flank. She could end up being a miner for all we know. You know how foolish it is to take somepony under your wing before they’ve got their ass tattoo in order.”
“Fleece,” Brenda gasped. “There are children present! Cheerilee and all her little friends are in the next room!”
“You know,” interjected the fourth mare, “Rarity’s quite mature for her age, she shouldn’t be a problem in your shop.”
“Well, I’m an old soul,” Rarity said.
“Doesn’t matter how old she is. Legally you need a cutie mark before your apprenticeship.”
The perceived insult on her cutie mark (or lack thereof) stung Rarity’s ego. “Well,” Rarity scoffed. “I wouldn’t want to work under you anyways. I’ll have my own dress shop, and I’ll call it ‘Rarity’s Rarities’.”
Brenda chuckled. “Oh ho ho, looks like Flannel has a competitor. I guess you won’t be getting an acting cutie mark.”
“Acting?” Rarity perked up.
“Well, I was going to invite you to audition for the musical I’m putting on for Loose Leaf, on account of how much you seem to like dress up.”
“Well, I could offer my services as a costumer, if need be.”
“Now there’s a thought. Fleece, she’s such a mature little girl, I’m sure she could give you a hoof without getting in your way, just for one project.”
That was how on the next weekend, Rarity found herself in Flannel Fleece’s workshop, getting the master tour. As soon as that was finished Flannel hoofed a list of fabrics that would be necessary for each costume, denoting the quantity and color. She explained she would be busy attending to her main line of work, but would come down to check on her progress in cutting out the needed fabric.
Rarity scoffed as soon as her new mentor was out of earshot. She hoofed up the sketches of the costumes, and studied them. It took a moment to drag out the right sized mannequin (surprisingly the one object whose name hadn’t been horse-ified, as Rarity put it). As soon as the cloth was cut, she started sewing.
By the time Flannel checked in, she had assembled the entire ensemble!
That may have been a small slightly embellished version of events (Rarity had only completed one of the five costumes in the time Flannel Fleece was gone) but Flitter remained thoroughly unimpressed with Rarity’s boasting of her newfound talent. “You can’t be that good at it. You would have gotten your cutie mark if you were,” Flitter said crossly. Rarity’s protest were unheard underneath the class’s murmur of assent.
“But it’s my calling!”
“But that’s not a super special talent.”
“But it is! I’ll have a cutie mark before you know it! I’ll just have to do a little more work to earn it!”
Yet, no cutie mark came when she finished the second costume, or the third. She found herself watching the dress rehearsal, costumes complete, and her flank woefully blank.
“Well done, Rarity,” Brenda said, as the two watched the foals’ fumbling music number from behind the curtain. “Your costumes look very nice.”
“Nice?” Rarity echoed. She looked at the costumes being worn, and then at her lack of a cutie mark. A rising frustration roiled up in her. Was this some cruel jape? This was quality work, especially for a foal. (Admittedly the stitching was a little shoddy on the first two she had assembled, but Rarity excused that as an inevitable consequence of learning to sew with magic instead of opposable thumbs.) Was the director sneering at her, deeming her work common drivel? Well, if she wanted a cutie mark denoting her talent, an insignia to her calling, she would just have to provide cutie mark level work.
She stamped down her hoof. “They need to be spectacular! And the play is tomorrow!”
After some brief repairs from forcibly removing everypony’s costumes and storming off, Rarity brought them into her living room-turned-workshop.
Some vital element was missing from the set, and it was Rarity’s sworn mission to figure out what, and earn her cutie mark. She stared intently at the costumes, willing them to reveal the last piece in the puzzle. She tried lace, buttons, sequins, but every addition seemed to only detract from their beauty, and increase her own frustration and despair. She waved off her father and his fresh made carrot dogs. She levitated a curious Sweetie Belle out of the room and magicked the door shut. The hours ticked by, and she had made no progress.
She looked at the cake costume in her hooves, just as mundane as it was before. “Maybe, I’m not meant to be a fashionista after all,” Rarity said, a tear welling in her eye. She left the workshop, dejected, defeated, resigned to be a dull boring pony with a dull, boring pony life. But as it happens, in our darkest hours, the universe throws us a spotlight, a beacon of hope accompanied by a hopeful chord. Maybe it is because the arc of the story is pulled by some irresistible force, maybe it’s what the audience expects.
For whatever reason, she found her horn glowing, pulling her away from the messy scene of her living room. She tried to resist, to turn away, but it drew her onward, through towns, through fields and valleys. Rarity started to believe that this was the proverbial hook drawing her off the stage, drawing her somewhere that her poor imitation of a unicorn couldn’t be seen. “Did I do that poorly at getting my cutie mark?” she demanded of the universe. But the universe gave no answer, and led her horn-first to her destiny. Defeated, she let her horn drag her onward, over a mountain, to a cliff, where she ran face first into a rock.
For a moment she looked at it, sputtering, and incapable of speech. At the end of the cliff, the stone stood sentry, gray and boring, and having absolutely nothing to do with costumes or sewing or dresses.
She stared accusingly and cross-eyed at her horn. “You brought me all the here for a rock?” She growled, and unleashed a verbal tirade against her horn (and the rock, and the universe) that would have made a sailor blush. And if any of her frustrations were capable of listening, they would have been emotionally devastated. But the rock was unabashed, the universe indifferent. This seemed to make all of her suffering worse.
Convinced that another bout of rock-shaming would do her some good, Rarity opened her mouth again. However, she had exhausted most of her vocabulary and all of her wit. So instead the words, “Dumb rock!” came sputtering from her lips.
This, the universe seemed to understand. A distant boom carried an arc of rainbow shooting over Rarity’s head. The stone rended itself apart light leaking from the newly formed crevices. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she awaited her destiny, her true calling in this pony life. The monolith's face crumbled away, revealing...
“More rocks?” Rarity cried out in exasperation. “What on earth am I supposed to do with, with a rock piñata?” (Later she found out said rock piñata was actually a geode). Yet even as she spoke those words, she realized that these rocks weren't your everyday bits of scenery. A glimmer in the pile of rubble caught her eye. She picked it up. This rock wasn't... so rocky as the rest. One chunk of it seemed to have a certain lustre behind its dull exterior, a radiant purple hue that was begging to shine through. A gem, she realized, misshapen and uncut, but a gem all the same. She sifted through the rubble. They were all gems or bits of them, of all shapes and sizes. The thespian squealed with glee. Perhaps her character's destiny was not so drab as she had dreaded.
She laid out the costumes, and the pail of gems out on the living room floor. She inspected a gem, and then a costume. Somehow, these rocks were the key to her destiny, her cutie mark. But for the life of her, she had no idea what a seamstress was supposed to do with a bucket of sapphires. She turned one over in her hooves.
Rarity recalled the other week when Thunder Lane double-triple-super swore in front of the entire class that his older sister's coltfriend got his cutie mark after eating ten rubies in a row. Thunder Lane had heard so directly from her sister. And his cutie mark wasn't even a gem! Another colt suggested that precious stones were an important dietary supplement for getting one's cutie mark. After all, what else made his vita-chew tablets so sparkly? The other foals were quick to agree with his theory, though Rarity simply rolled her eyes and continued her hoof painting. Flitter shared her skepticism, though only because Thunder Lane’s oath wasn't bound by a “Pinkie Promise”.
Then again, this was the land of talking ponies who controlled the weather, why shouldn't eating a few crystals give her a cutie mark? She'd read somewhere that dragons ate rubies all the time. Now that she considered it, it didn't seem totally out of the question.
Experimentally, she popped a garnet into her mouth, and chewed on it. It wasn't so bad, it crumbled without ruining her teeth, and... She puckered up and nearly gagged. For all intents and purposes she was munching on gravel, and it tasted like the underside of a muddy boot. She struggled to chew more, but that only pulverized it into a gritty sand that coated her tongue. A valiant attempt to swallow the mass of crushed stone ended with her sputtering and spitting into a sink. Several glasses of water later, Rarity was back where she started, only muttering curses about her classmates.
“Mother, how does one get a cutie mark?” she asked.
“Oh, you know, you get it when you find out what you're really really good at,” she replied with a smile.
Rarity groaned. She wasn't that ignorant on the subject. “But suppose I already know what I'm really really good at. And I still don't have my cutie mark?”
This gave the mother pause. “Then it’s probably something related. You weren’t out trying to get a cutie mark, were you?”
“Not exactly… My horn went off,” she replied.
“Oh, that happens to every girl your age.”
“But I thought it was leading to me my destiny.”
“And what did you find?”
“Gems, and rocks” she replied flatly.
“Oh dear. Have you thought of combining the gems with your sewing?”
Rarity’s jaw dropped. A stroke of brilliance, nay genius! She pecked her mother on the cheek and raced back to the living room.
Eyes beaming with pure excitement, she took up a needle and thread. One by one, she bored a hole in each stone, stringing them along, and binding them to the hems of the costume, the collar, the sleeves, the accent thread. On and on she sewed, not breaking her concentration for a moment. She entered the “zone” as she thought of it; there was nothing in the world but her, the gems and the thread. A thrill she had not known for over two years.
Finally she set down her tools and examined her work. Her horn ached from the effort, and she was exhausted, but proud at her perseverance that would surely earn her a cutie mark. Yes, the play was tomorrow, but she had finished... “One dress?” she asked no one in particular, as she held up the only gem encrusted article of clothing in the room. No, that couldn't possibly be right. She had spent the entire evening working, and all she had done was one out of five?
“Bed Time, darling!” her mother called out in a sing song voice. “You should have had those pearly whites brushed five minutes ago!”
Was it eight o’clock already? Admittedly, the events of the day had worn her down to the point of exhaustion, and she wasn’t used to staving off sleep this late into the night, but she was in the zone. She wasn’t going to let something as ludicrous as biological necessities hold her back. She marched into the kitchen, past her mother and onto the fridge, where she fixed herself a glass of chocolate milk, and quaffed it all in three gulps.
“Rarity Diana Belle, what in Equestria are you doing? You’re going to be up all night now,” Her mother said.
“That’s precisely what I mean to do, Mother,” Rarity said matter-of-factly. “Come hell or high water, it is imperative that I have these costumes looking spectacular, if I’m ever to fulfill my destiny.”
“Fulfill your destiny? On a school night? Not on my watch.” Her mother levitated the cup into the sink, and ushered her towards the bathroom.
Rarity dug her hooves into the floor. “What? That is totally unreasonable!”
Her mother held a snicker back with her hoof. “Not as unreasonable as a certain cranky filly waking up?”
“Please, I need to finish these costumes if I'm ever to get my cutie mark! My very life depends on it.”
“Rarity, snookums, they look wonderful! Come, if you clean up and brush your teeth now, there might be enough time for a bed time story.”
Rarity had not wanted to do this, but she was desperate. She flung herself down at her mother's hooves, hugging her legs with fervent intensity. She mustered soulful, teary eyes as she lied prostrate on the floor. In her highest falsetto, she made her final plea. “Please please please! It's so important I’ll never get a cutie mark if I don't finish! This is my one opportunity! Pleaasseeeee....”
“Rarity, I'm not —”
“Easseeeeeeeeeeee”
“You're going to wake up Sweeetie —”
“Easssseee—“ She gasped to take a breath. Her mother was not amused. She turned to racking sobs.
After another half minute of groveling, Mother let out a sigh. “Fifteen minutes, and then straight to bed. No buts, Missy.”
It would take hours to embroider even one costume. Frantic, she raced into the basement, retrieving her father's wood glue. As quick and neatly as she could, she dabbed the edge of the gems and adhered them one by one to the costumes, with no regard for any aesthetic principle save even distribution. “This doesn't look... so bad,” she forced herself to say, as her eye twitched. As soon as each of the costumes were sufficiently spattered in multicolored gems, she hung up the costumes to dry, and crumbled into her bed, well past twenty minutes over her bed time.
“Er… interesting choice of decoration, Rarity,” Was all Brenda said. The two of them watched from back stage as the currents rolled away, and the limelight swept over the actors. Their costumes glittered, reflections of the gem casting colored splashes of light throughout the entire theatre. Underneath plinking of the un-tuned piano, she heard oohing and awwing. Rarity was grinning. “They love my costumes, Brenda, they love them!”
Brenda winked at Rarity. “Think they might be good enough for a cutie mark?”
Rarity twisted her neck and stared at her flank, squealing with delight.
“A trio of gems?” Clyde chuckled to himself. “Linda, looks like our little Rarity is gonna be a miner, eh?”
For a moment, our thespian's jaw gaped wide. “A miner? You mean, shoveling piles of rocks all day?”
“Heh heh, I knew your horn was up to something when I saw that bucket in the living room. Your horn sniffed those crystals out for you, didn't they?”
“Well yes, but—”
Her adoptive father ruffled her mane affectionately. “Let's have daddy's old friend pay us a visit. He's got a rock farm down west. He might have a job for you.”
Rarity galloped as fast as she could to the carousel boutique. She was breathless by the time she shoved open the door. Flannel Fleece looked up from her sewing machine, her beret sliding back into place.
“Anything I can help you with, Rarity?”
“You....Wouldn't.... Happen to need any help yourself?”
“How do you mean?”
“An apprenticeship, is all I ask for.”
Flannel Fleece Smiled. “Let's talk with your parents.”
Pizza was a very good idea, the group collectively and drunkenly decided.
At 9:00pm, Mr. and Mrs. Cake decided the party had to move elsewhere. The kitchen was hastily cleaned, the booze packed back onto the wagon. They set course for Carousel Boutique, the only place where they wouldn’t be disturbing anypony else. En route they happened across Pony Joe’s Pizzeria. The group was now staring at the neon sign of a pizza, slack-jawed and drooling.
Pinkie Pie pitched the idea, Twilight championed it. There was a murmur of agreement. In all the fuss of setting up, the task of getting food for everypony was forgotten (by Rainbow Dash, Twilight was quick to tell). They were hungry (no one had eaten anything but cake since 12pm, after all), and they were probably all going to have a very bad night if they didn’t get something warm and greasy down their gullets. Since it was only nine o clock at night, there were plenty of restaurants still open. Plus pizza is wonderful, Fluttershy added. She was very fond of telling everypony how wonderful everything was when she was tipsy.
The party stumbled into the pizzeria, bickered about toppings, and finally placed their order.
“Rarity!” a familiar voice called out.
The thespian whipped her head around so fast it threw her off kilter for a moment. “Flitter? Moon Dancer?”
Moon Dancer grinned, and beckoned the thespian over. She and Flitter were sitting together at a table for two. They both got up and hugged Rarity. “How’s the birthday celebration?” Moon Dancer asked.
“You remembered?”
“Heck, we stopped by to drop off our present, but you weren’t there! You ought to really check your mailbox when you get back!”
“Oh how thoughtful of you two! I feel as though I haven’t seen either of you in ages!”
Flitter chuckled, and adjusted her bow in the reflection. “It has been a few months. Cloud Chaser keeps on asking for updates in the life of Rarity, dressmaker extraordinaire. Now I can finally report back.”
Rarity bit her lip. “I’m…Well. I—“
“RARITY! Do you want pie slices or square slices? We need a tie breaker!” Twilight called out.
“Pie slices, darling,” she replied.
“Okay girls, pie slices it is!”
“Why not Pinkie slices?” Pinkie demanded.
“Oh, I’m so excited. Pie slices are so wonderful,” Fluttershy said to no one in particular.
Moon Dancer cocked an eyebrow. “You’re friends seem a little… enthusiastic.”
“Well darling, they have been celebrating our girl Rarity’s birthday,” Flitter said.
“Oh my Celestia. Rarity, are you drunk?” Moon Dancer asked.
“Perhaps,” the thespian replied with a coy smile.
“I never thought I’d live to see the day where Rarity wets her whistle.”
“I look forward to seeing you at the AA meetings,” Flitter quipped.
Rarity snickered, and Moon Dancer rolled her eyes.
“But seriously Rar, we need to catch up. Let’s visit soon,” Moon Dancer said.
“Enjoy the rest of your night!” said Flitter, turning to leave.
“Wait, you can’t visit soon!” Rarity cried out.
“Come again?” Moon Dancer asked.
“I mean…” Crap, she was mussing up her lines again. “I mean why wait? We’re moving to the Carousel Boutique. You two are more than welcome to join us.”
The two mares turned to each other. “You want to go?” Flitter asked.
“I do, but it’s your night,” Moon Dancer replied.
“Well, will we still get to you-know-what tonight?”
“Maybe we could stay for just an hour, then we won’t be too tired.”
The words mystified Rarity, but she soon forgot it when Flitter turned around and said they would drop by for a little bit.
“Ladies, what do you think?” Young Rarity grinned, gesturing around to her new home.
Flitter looked around the empty living room, Moon Dancer poked her head into the next room over. “So you’re living here now? You’re like the new Flannel Fleece.”
“Well, Flannel is staying one more day before she moves to Manehattan. After that, she will be officially hoofing down the Carousel Boutique to me.”
“No more living with Ma and Pa and Sweetie then?” Flitter asked.
“I’ll be a homeowner and a business owner.” Rarity clutched her chest, letting out a dreamy sigh. For the first time in all these years, she finally felt she was back on track. Yes, she was a pony, but she was a seamstress, and had a career to support herself and her craft. She and her friends were no longer fillies. She felt as though she had made well of this role, this life. Satisfied, in a word.
A mischievous grin spread across Flitter’s face. “Then after we move you in, we need to have our very first-homeowner sleepover!”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Really, Flitter, do I want to start another adult life with something as juvenile as a sleepover?”
“Your social life didn’t really start till Cheerilee’s sleepover, just saying,” she said.
“C’mon Rar, it’ll be fun! When’s the next excuse to have a little gal party? My birthday isn’t for another three months!”
“But hey, who’s counting?” Flitter said with a wink.
“Please Rarity?” Moon Dancer pleaded, lip quivering. She was barely containing her giggles.
Rarity chuckled. “Very well, your words have swayed my stony heart.” She turned around, and paced the room. “Although, the bed can only fit two us, so one of you lucky ladies will have to sleep on the floor.”
“Which reminds me, we have to find you some furniture too,” Flitter said. “Maybe a couch would be better for dear Moon Dancer’s back than bare tile.”
Moon Dancer snickered. “And where in all of Equestria are we ever going to find a couch that's up to Rarity’s aesthetic standards?”
“I might be able to pull something out of my dad’s basement,” Flitter said, grinning.
Rainbow Dash had gone for a quick drunken flight, much to AJ’s consternation. Twilight was in the kitchen, testing some recipes she found in a mixology book.
Rarity sat on the couch in her living room, alongside Moon Dancer, Pinkie, Fluttershy, and Flitter. The English sofa wasn’t the best match for the décor, but it was a gift from Flitter who had hauled it here on wing power alone. Sentiment had prevented the thespian from finding a new one. Pinkie Pie had just finished a story of a failed attempt to court a stallion. Pie throwing contests aren't the best first date idea, Pinkie conceded.
As soon as she finished, Rarity turned to Moon Dancer. "What about you, darling? You must have a stallion in your life by now."
Moon Dancer and Flitter simultaneously blushed.
Rarity looked between her two childhood friends. Then it hit her.
Rarity's jaw dropped wide open. Her attempts to form any coherent reply resulted in the words getting caught in the back of her throat. Maybe it was the cider, but she couldn’t seem to utter a coherent thought. They'd known each other since they were fillies. She hardly knew that Moon Dancer was even a filly-fooler, let alone into one of her best friends. Had she really been apart from them that long? “You mean to say that the two of you are an item?” Rarity finally managed to say.
Moon Dancer grinned. "For the better part of a year, now."
Flitter took a sip of her second glass of cider. Beside her and Moon Dancer everypony’s drink count was in the double digits. “Well, after that summer sun celebration, you stated hanging out with us less and less. Moon Dancer and I started getting closer and closer, and well…”
“The rest is history,” Moon Dancer said with a smile.
“Moon Dancer, don’t do that. We look so gross and couple-y when you finish my—”
“Sentences?” Moon Dancer let out a giggle. “Sorry Flit, it’s just that you’re so cute when you’re annoyed.” She pecked her partner on the cheek.
“Yeah, yeah, tell it to the judge.”
“You two are so wonderful,” Fluttershy said earnestly, grabbing the two of them and squeezing them both together. “I really like your friends Rarity, they’re just so wonderful.”
“We think you’re wonderful too, Fluttershy,” Moon Dancer said, patting her new friend on the head.
“You’re half-nelson isn’t half bad either,” Flitter muttered under her breath, as she wriggled free.
Rarity wondered what else had she been absent for. If she had missed so much in just a couple of years, what was she going to miss in an entire life time. What had she already missed in her first life? What were her human friends up to now, so many years later? They probably had families, children of their own by now.
She looked up at her friends, who'd she never get to see get married, or have kids, or grow old. Her's was a life on a skipping soundtrack, only making it partway through before careening back to the start. And the worst part is it would happen again, and again till the end of time. She didn't want to abandon her future, her friends and family. She wanted to be an active part of their future instead of as a dusty photograph on the bottom shelf.
Before Flitter could claim the open seat on the couch. Twilight stumbled into the room. “Rarrrity,” she said slurring. “I think I might have mixed too many martinis.”
Pinkie snorted with laughter. “How is that bad at all? That’s the opposite of a problem you silly filly!”
Twilight fell onto the couch, and everypony currently sitting on it. “Because I drank them all.”
“Oh.”
Eyes half-closed, oblivious to the ponies trying to get out from underneath her, she murmured. “Hey Rarity, I think I’m gonna take a quick power nap. Super quick.”
Before she could reply Twilight was already fast asleep. Truth be told, Rarity could have also used a power nap, and she felt a little dizzy too, but what good was napping when this was her last day in Equestria? Her last moments to spend with her friends? She turned to her two guests, two dear old friends she hadn’t spent nearly enough time with. “Isn’t this absolutely fabulous? We’re all going to sleep over! Just like old times, we can finally take a moment to catch up properly! Won’t you join us?”
“It’s so wonderful,” Fluttershy said.
Flitter rested her glass on a coaster, and bit her lip. “I was actually planning on… Well…”
“Banana,” Moon Dancer murmured.
Flitter went bright red for a moment, but she quickly regained composure and stood up. “Hey Rarity, I think Moon Dancer and I are gonna head home. It was nice to see you and meet all of your friends.”
“Wait, can’t you stay just a little longer?” Rarity begged.
“Sorry Rarity, we should really be in bed now. It’s almost the morning. But the three of us should catch up soon,” Moon Dancer said.
“Drink some water, Rarity, and tomorrow won’t suck so much,” Flitter added with a smile.
The words hit Rarity hard. It was all she could do to hold back from hysterically crying. “Tomorrow?” she whimpered.
“Or whenever. You know where to find us. If not, we’ll come knocking soon.”
Rarity threw the two friends into her embrace, and let out a racking sob. She wanted to tell them how beautiful they both were, and how much she was going to miss them, and how she wished them every bit of happiness and health in their lives together. She didn’t want them to worry a single bit about her when she was gone. She was a vagabond soul now, and she would learn to adapt, and find new people to care about, wherever she ended up.
“I just love you guys so much,” was all she managed to blubber.
Flitter cocked an eyebrow. “Is Rarity okay?”
“She’ll be fine, she just gets a smidge sentimental when she drinks too much,” Applejack offered.
Another round of goodnights, and they were gone, out of Rarity’s life for ever and ever. She started to cry again. AJ half guided, half carried up the stairs and to her bedroom above the shop floor. Rarity protested to being plopped into her bed, taken away from the rest of her friends. She couldn’t find the resolve to sit up; her head was spinning too much. An empty trash can found its way to her bedside, and soon Applejack reappeared with a tumbler filled with water.
“I don’t want water! I want to spend time with my friends! I always have to leave my friends behind!”
“Don’t worry, we’ll all be here when you wake up.” The earth pony smiled wanly.
“But what if I’m not?” she whimpered. “What if this is the last moment we ever see each other? When I close my eyes, what if I’m gone forever?”
“C’mon, Rarity. Now you’re talking crazier than Pinkie Pie. Flitter was right. I think you’re in for a pretty tough morning already. Don’t make it worse on yourself.”
The thespian paused for a beat, struggling to keep her eyes open. “You’re not going to let me get out of bed, are you?”
“Sure ain’t.”
Rarity would just have to fool AJ by faking sleep, and then sneak back down. If that was possible. She slowly drained the metal cup, and hugged her friend. “You’re the best Applejack, I’m going to miss you sooo much.” Her tears fell onto AJ’s shoulder.
“I ain’t going anywhere, sugar cube.”
Rarity let her head fall onto the downy pillow, and closed her eyes. The world seemed to spin, and she was drifting away.
A blanket draped over her. “I ain’t going anywhere.”
Rarity woke on the day after her twenty second birthday with the grim certainty that she would never see the light of Celestia's sun again. She lay there with her eyes closed, unwilling to see the world she inhabited, to see what new role was forced upon her. She dared not move an inch. She was sick of it all, sick to her stomach of having to spend lives half-lived before being whisked away from her friends, and all that she had known. It gave her a queasy throbbing feeling not knowing if she'd wake with hooves, or hands, or god knows what.
The warmth of the light persisted in spite of her protest. She cautioned to open an eye only a sliver, seeing only blinding light. Was it the limelight shining down of the curtsying actress before curtain fall? Or was it the beckoning light of the hereafter? She opened her eyes fully and...
It was like her eyes were being stabbed with lightning bolt screwdriver... things. “Agghh!” she groaned, squeezing them back shut. She threw the covers over her head and massaged her temples to make the throbbing stop.
Carefully, with squinted eyes, she looked back up just long enough to magic her curtains back over her window. The world was mercifully dark once more, save a sliver of sunlight peeking through.
“Sunlight?” she asked herself. That couldn't be right. She peaked through window again, and there was the sun, high and golden in the morning sky. She rubbed the spots in her eyes away with her hooves. Hooves?
On the other side of the bed, Rainbow Dash was on her side, snoring gently. Applejack was in a sleeping bag by the bureau. She tiptoed the best she could around them, down the stairs, past Pinkie Pie, Twilight and Fluttershy in the living room, all still fast asleep. Rarity paused to look at the hall mirror. The face of a pony stared back at her.
Never in her life was she so bewildered by her own reflection. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief. Her mane was more disheveled than she cared to admit, but she was still Rarity Belle, unicorn mare.
It didn't make sense. How was she still here? She was twenty-two. She was destined to vanish and awake elsewhere when she turned twenty-two. The inconsistency made her head hurt more. Twenty-two years as a human, twenty-two years as a pony. By all reasoning, she should be a turtle now, in Turtle World, or some such nonsense.
“How?” she asked her reflection. She had been born into this world a filly, but celebrated her twenty-second birthday. She chewed on that thought for a moment. “Not born as a foal, but plopped into the middle of the road as a filly.” Her Birthday cake had twenty-two candles, but in this world she had only walked for seventeen. She tried to stifle her cackling, to no avail.
“Five years! I’ve miscounted, I still have five years. Stupid Rarity, it’s not counting my candles, its counting my years.” She laughed deliriously, until her the pain grew so much she thought her horn was going to fall off.
A kind, beautiful soul had left a pitcher of bloody mary on top shelf of the fridge. Rarity cleared some space on her kitchen table, setting the pitcher among the forest of bottles and cups. She poured to the brim, and when she finished quaffing it all, she let out a burp. The throbbing toned down to tolerable levels. She wrote a quick note, reminding herself to get in touch with Flitter and Moon Dancer. Her friends would be ravenous when they woke, she realized with a smile. Once the empty bottles were thrown in with the recycling, she started preparing six helpings of scrambled eggs. The smell wafted through the air, and after a minute, a rather groggy-eyed Twilight dragged herself into the kitchen, drawn by the promise of food. She looked longingly at the sizzling mass.
“Terribly sorry dear, but they won't be ready for a few minutes,” Rarity said gently.
Twilight groaned as her head slumped onto the table. A lock of her mane was sticking straight up. “I hate everything,” she said, voice muffled by the table.
Rarity looked at her miserable friend with tender eyes, wanting nothing more than to hug her and swing her around, to tell her how wonderful and happy life was, especially with friends like her. Instead she asked, “Would you like something to drink?”
“Elcetrosks...”
“Pardon?”
“Electrolytes. Orange juice.”
Said orange juice was used up making screwdrivers for Fluttershy. Instead, she poured Twilight a tall glass of bloody mary.
“Close enough,” Twilight said before taking a sip. “I don't remember bringing any tomato juice here.”
“Someone must have picked some up before we all fell asleep.”
“'Somepony',” Twilight said.
“'Somepony'. Yes, of course,” she said, grinning. In spite of her headache, in spite of herself, Rarity started humming as she stirred the eggs. She put a kettle onto the stove, wondering if Pinkie would take a liking to jasmine tea.