Carousel Boutique
Spike wandered through Ponyville, taking a circuitious route to the Carousel Boutique. He admitted to himself that he probably should have gone there first, instead of to Fluttershy’s cottage, but he was more worried about the shy pegasus than his crush…or, he thought to himself, maybe he was just afraid to speak to Rarity.
Fluttershy at least seemed all right, under the circumstances. She was staying busy, cleaning the cottage and feeding her animal menagerie. Just as he reached the cottage, Spike remembered that Discord was back in town; the dragonequus tended to wander in and out as he pleased. When Discord answered the door, it took every ounce of courage Spike had not to flee, but even Discord seemed subdued. He didn’t try any of his usual tricks and was even polite. Of course, Fluttershy insisted on tea, and Spike had to stay for that, but in truth he didn’t mind. It gave him more time to think about what he was going to say to Rarity.
If anything.
It was a sunny day in Ponyville, with only a few harmless clouds in the sky. It made Spike tear up a little, remembering Rainbow Dash’s common boast that she could clear the sky in ten seconds flat. As usual, everyone greeted the little dragon with a smile, but there was something artificial about the smiles. It was as if the color had faded a little from everyone today.
Finally he arrived at the front door of the Carousel Boutique. On a day like this, Rarity usually left the door slightly open, to let in a fresh breeze and to welcome customers in. The door was closed today, with a note attached saying the Boutique was closed. That was no surprise. Spike stood on tiptoes and knocked on the door. “Rarity? It’s Spike.”
No answer. He knocked again. Still nothing. As he raised his hand to knock again, the door opened. A puffy-eyed Rarity peered around the door. “Oh. Hello, Spike.”
“Um, hi.” Spike tended to get tongue-twisted around Rarity in the best of times. “Uh…Twilight sent me over, check you out…I mean, check on you…”
Rarity gave him a sorrowful smile. “Of course, Spike. I’m all right.” Seeing that he was not going to leave with just that, she opened the door and motioned him inside, then closed the door behind him. “Spike, I don’t know if I’m…” No, Rarity told herself, you’re not doing that to Spike. He’s your friend, and it’s not polite. “Would…would you like some tea?”
Spike had drank enough tea at Fluttershy’s to float the moon, but there was no way he was going to refuse Rarity. “Sure.”
Rarity made tea silently, quickly and efficiently, then brought the teacups over to a small table in her showroom, balancing them just so with her magic. With another slight movement of her head, an upholstered stool slid over for Spike. She took a drink of one, but only after Spike sipped at his. It would not be proper for her to drink before her guest. “Let me look in the workroom. I am sure I have a gem or two for you…”
Spike felt his saliva start at the word gem, but he stifled his instincts. “Rarity, it’s okay. You don’t have to feed me.”
“No…I suppose not.”
Spike’s heart broke over the sound of her voice. It was flat, listless, and so unlike Rarity. “Um, I mean, if you really want me to, then sure, I’ll eat it. It’s just that I was over at Fluttershy’s, and she made me eat some carrots and I didn’t want to say no, especially with Discord there and all—“
“Discord?” Rarity said in shock. “What’s he doing there? Is he up to no good?”
“No.” Spike half-smiled. “I think he’s, well, I think he’s actually comforting Fluttershy.”
Rarity opened her mouth, thought better of it, and drank her tea. “Well. Discord is full of surprises, is he not? He’d better keep his foul paws off her, that abomination.”
The silence got uncomfortable after that, so Spike, twiddling his claws, asked in a quiet voice, “How…how are you holding up?”
“Oh, I’m fine, darling. Just waiting for Sweetie Belle to get back from looking for Scootaloo. I do hope she’s all right—Scootaloo, I mean. She and Rainbow were such good friends…” A hankerchief levitated from the table and dabbed at her eyes.
“Rarity…you’re not okay.” Spike said it as fact.
“Please don’t worry yourself over me, darling. How is Twilight taking it?”
Spike knew Rarity was avoiding the question. He took a drink for courage and forced himself to meet her blue eyes. “Rarity, answer me.”
He expected Rarity to burst into tears. In fact, he expected Rarity to not only start bawling, but to pull her fainting couch over and fall onto it. She would bury her muzzle into the rich velvet and cry for hours, and he would gently pat her mane and comfort her. At least that was how he had daydreamed it. Rarity sitting on her divan, sipping tea, with barely a mist in her eyes, was not something he expected at all. Rarity and Rainbow Dash had their differences, but they were friends…weren’t they? Spike asked himself. Maybe all these years Rarity had despised Dash and been really good at hiding it? He shook his head at that; it was impossible. For one thing, the Elements of Harmony would not work. For another, that was just not Rarity. Rarity might be hysterical at times, occasionally judgemental, even jealous. She was not cruel.
Finally, she answered him. “I don’t know, Spike. I don’t know how I feel.” She motioned around the showroom. Mannequin ponies lined the walls, decorated with dresses and accessories, all of them exquisite and beautiful, all of them showing why Rarity was Ponyville’s greatest fashionista, possibly even the best in Equestria. “Yesterday, Spike, I got up at dawn and worked straight on until I heard Rainbow was hurt. Sweetie Belle had to remind me to eat. I have a deadline, you see…” She got up and walked over to one mannequin, where a blue-black dress shimmered in the sunlight coming from the windows. “Luna wanted me to make her a dress, and she needs it by tomorrow. Some formal occasion. And it being Luna, the dress must be larger than a normal pony’s, with wing-holes for a pegasus—but they have to be larger because her wingspan is so much wider than, say, Fluttershy’s. And she says she needs it to be ‘combat capable,’ whatever in Tartarus that means.” She ran a hoof across the fabric.
“But Rarity, it’s gorgeous,” Spike gushed.
“Yes, I suppose it is. But it’s not finished. I’ve barely started on the sequins, and Luna wants a padded mane-net as well. It’s due tomorrow,” she repeated.
“Luna will understand, Rarity!” Spike exclaimed. “She’s not heartless. She knows what happened. I’m sure Princess Celestia told her.” He stood up from his stool. “In fact, I can write her! Let me run back to the library real quick—“
“That’s not necessary, Spike.” Rarity turned away from the dress. “It’s just that…I don’t really care.”
“About Luna?”
“About dressmaking.”
Spike’s eyes widened. Rarity not caring about dressmaking was tantamount to an apocalypse. “But Rarity…why? Because…because of Rainbow Dash?”
“Yes.” She looked away from him, towards her workroom. “I tried to go in there today, but everytime I do, I see Dashie standing there, with her hooves crossed, and telling me it needs to be ‘twenty percent cooler.’ Quite literally one of the most idiotic things to come out of that pony’s mouth, and that’s saying something. Not to speak ill of the…of the dead, but sometimes Dashie wasn’t the sharpest needle in the pincushion.” Rarity smiled. “Am I bad for saying that, Spike?”
“Not really, I guess.”
“I’m going to miss that.” Rarity sighed again. “Spike, I feel so…empty.” She circled the room. “It’s like none of this even matters. It can be taken away so easily. Yesterday morning, when I ran into Dashie at Sugarcube Corner, she was so full of life. She had one of Mr. Cake’s Lemon Muffin Surprises and talked about how Twilight was having trouble flying. It’s not funny, of course—Twilight is a princess now; she must learn to fly—but Dashie made it so. And now she’s gone. Just like that.” She shook her head. A single tear rolled down her cheek. “Spike, I suppose ponies shall remember me, for my fashion and all. And the Elements of Harmony and such. But life just seems so…transient now. In a thousand years, will anyone remember us? Will they remember how we were friends before we were heroines? Will they remember me because I was a maker of dresses or will they remember me for something else? Will they remember Rainbow Dash for her heroism, or her Sonic Rainbooms? Or are we destined to be forgotten, like Luna was?"
“But Rarity…you can’t stop making dresses. It’s what you’re best at! It’s what you enjoy doing most of all!”
Rarity walked over and put a reassuring hoof on Spike’s shoulder. “Oh, I know, Spike. I have no intention of quitting. It’s just that, right now, I barely can bring myself to look at a dress. There's no color to them. There's no fire. There's just...nothing." She sniffled, wiped her eyes. "I need a hug. I desperately need a hug.”
Spike immediately turned and put his arms around Rarity’s neck. He felt his tears running into her soft mane. “All you had to do was ask,” he said.
She put her hoof around him. “Ah, Spike. Here I am, so selfish, not thinking about how this must be affecting you!” She kissed his forehead. “It will be all right. We will survive, somehow. But from now on, I shall quit wasting so much time with…fripperies. And worrying about things so much. Life is so short, Spike. We must not waste it.”
Spike looked up at her. “You’re not…you don’t think Rainbow Dash wasted her life, do you?”
“Certainly not!” Rarity protested. “Dashie lived every moment of her life at full throttle. Now I am not like her, and I can’t be like her. But perhaps…I can take some lessons from my friend.” She hugged Spike tighter. “And quit taking ponies for granted. Or dragons.” She felt Spike sobbing into her fur. “That’s all right, Spike. Let it out. It’s all right.”
“That’s weird,” Spike struggled out. “I came over here to make you feel better!”
Rarity dabbed at her eyes again. She had cried all night, and knew she would cry more. She had been to funerals before, and cried at those, but never at a friend’s funeral. She did not want to tell Spike that it would get worse before it got better. For now, though, she could hold one friend close.
There was a hesitant knock at the door—loud, like the hoof of a pony, not the small fist of a little dragon. “We know thou art closed,” a voice spoke through the door, “but we wish to speak with thee.”
Spike and Rarity looked at each other. “Luna,” they said simutaneously. No other pony in Equestria spoke like that.
Rarity left Spike and went to the door, opening it a little. Sure enough, Princess Luna stood there, wings folded, chin up, still managing to tower over ponies without meaning to. Rarity was mildly surprised to see her wearing saddlebags; usually a servant would carry those for her. Luna’s expression was sheepish. “Forgive us for disturbing thee,” Luna said. “We merely wished to inform thee that thy dress shall not be needed for a fortnight or more. Thou hast more pressing matters now.”
Rarity suppressed a smile at Luna’s archaic form of speech. From her visits to Canterlot, she knew that the younger monarch was trying to learn more modern customs. Generally, she was successful, but in times of stress Luna tended to lapse into the older, more formal Canterlot court language. Rarity realized that Rainbow Dash’s death must even be affecting Luna. “Won’t you come in?”
“Thy welcome is appreciated, but…” Luna looked down. Suddenly, she seemed much younger. “We…I would like that.” She walked in, inclining her head to Spike. “I did not see thy mis—your friend.” Luna caught herself before she called Twilight Sparkle Spike’s owner. “Is she absent from Ponyville?”
“She went to go see Applejack and Pinkie Pie.”
“Oh.” Luna accepted a cup of tea from Rarity. “Thank you. We…er, I came down to talk to thee…you…about my dress.” She took a sip. “In light of recent events…” Luna rolled her eyes in frustration. “Oh confound it! Rarity, Spike, I feel great sorrow for your loss. I did not know Rainbow Dash very well, but I know you loved her as much as I love my sister. Please accept my condolences.” She hesitated again, unsure of what else, if anything, to say.
Rarity touched Luna’s shoulder. “It is much appreciated, Your Highness.”
“Yes. Well.” She turned and saw the dress. “Oh, it is quite lovely!”
“Isn’t it?” Rarity felt pride blossoming in spite of herself. “I’m honored you like it.”
“But please, just finish it when you can. There is no emergency.” She turned and telepathically opened the saddlebags. “I brought these. I thought…perhaps you could use them.”
It was fabric, but nothing like Rarity had ever seen. It was all colors and none of them at the same time. It shimmered like the aurora borealis, like Celestia’s mane. When Rarity touched it, the fabric was soft and gentle. “This is shimmersilk,” she remarked in awe. “I have heard of it, but never…” Her voice trailed off. Shimmersilk was extremely rare and ridiculously expensive.
“You like it? It is yours. Perhaps you could use them for the funeral?”
Rarity began to tear up. Luna reared back a little at her expression. “Have…have we offended thee?”
“No,” Rarity sniffed. “It’s just that I have already chosen…Rainbow Dash’s attire.” She told them.
“Ah. Yes, that is more suitable.” Luna placed the shimmersilk on the table. “Then keep it nonetheless. For yourself. And the others.”
“Yes, I will. Thank you.” Rarity took a breath. “Now, if you two will excuse me, I seem to have quite a bit of work to do.”
“Do you feel up to it?” Spike asked. “I mean…what you said earlier…”
“I cannot neglect my responsibilities, Spike.” Rarity chuckled. “And to be honest, I really want to work on that shimmersilk. I can, it seems, make Dashie’s, ah, outfit twenty percent cooler.”
“Then you need not do so alone.” Luna smiled at Rarity’s look. “What? We--er, I--was stuck on the moon for a thousand years. Dost thou believe I do not know my way around thread and needle?”
Rarity bowed. “In that case, I accept.” She turned to Spike. “And of course you can help too, Spikey. I would not accept anything less.”
“Just not as a pincushion this time?” It felt wrong to laugh, Spike later reflected, and yet so right.
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3704429 Thanks.
3704087 Happens to me sometimes too. When I was writing this chapter for Rarity, I chose some soft music for mood. iTunes then started running through every damn sad song I have!
And now we wait....
3740150 I'll try and update faster. The holidays tend to throw wrenches in the pumps with trying to keep an update schedule.
That and I don't have Applejack's work ethic.
Hey, hey, you! Author. Stop making me feel things.
Stop it!
3742440 Heh. You gave me the idea for that line. (And I'm glad you did, because that's where Scoots was originally headed.)
Of all the chapters, this one made me cry. But for the strangest reason. What Luna did made me tear up! How! I applaud you for making me tear up on one of the least sad parts of this story. It's people like you who make me want to write something, but I can't cause I suck at it.
3741581 I don't think anyone has Applejack's work ethic....except maybe Twilight.
3744115 Never know until you try!