Morning Run
Morning Run
The soft shine of a sun just peaking over the horizon. The quiet patter of clad feet over a well-worn path. The faint touch of coolness that lingered in the early spring air. Though the day had barely begun, Rarity already gleaned with a faint sheen of perspiration on her toned legs and taut tummy as she made her way around the town’s perimeter.
Most people thought that beauty was just a thing you were born with, a blessing bestowed like the gains from some cosmic lottery. What they failed to realize, however, was that beauty came with a price, and that price was constant diligence and hard work. A balanced diet, plenty of rest, regular cosmetic treatments, and of course, good old fashioned exercise. Of course, even if Rarity were dressed as stylishly as ever, what with her matching white lycra sports top and running shorts with violet tresses done up in a sporting ponytail, the young beauty was still not quite so comfortable with letting people see her sweat. Hence, the early morning runs.
Besides, it’s not as if she minded the early hours. In fact, Rarity loved this time of day, those cool mornings just after daybreak when the whole world seemed fresh and new. It was like an untouched bolt of fabric: spotless, clean, and positively bursting with creativity and potential. The unbroken solitude was invigorating, and like any quality material, the Ponyville seamstress was not about to let it go to waste.
Rounding the latest bend, the Rarity idly noted the familiar fork she’d crossed so many times before. To one side lay the traditional path she’d always run that took her past the lake and up toward Sweet Apple Acres. The other path, if it could even be called that, was little more than a compact of earth that led further into some nearby woods. Normally, she would have paid the fork little mind. Normally. But for some strange reason, Rarity was suddenly struck by a spontaneously childish desire for adventure. Instead of following the trail back towards town, she instead decided to turn off onto the road less traveled and ran towards the nearby copse of trees.
The shade under the trees was deliciously cool, and the sunlight streaming through the viridian leaves gave the whole area a wondrously calming atmosphere. It was so calming, in fact, that instead of maintaining her run, Rarity decided to slow down her pace and enjoy a leisurely stroll for a change. Chest heaving as she took deep breaths of crisp, refreshing air, Rarity wiped the sweat from her brow and took a moment to relish in the solitude of the forest.
That’s when she heard a noise.
Somewhere deeper in the grove of trees, the faint rustling of movement could be heard. Oddly enough though, it wasn’t the normal sound a sweeping breeze of some woodland creature scurrying about. It was erratic, suddenly beginning, increasing in tempo, and then just as suddenly falling silent. Curious, the young lady followed the sound and soon found herself near an open clearing in the trees, a small glade illuminated by the first golden rays of sun. Peering out from behind the brush, Rarity’s eyes widened in surprise.
Graves, dressed in naught but his trousers and heavy combat boots, occupied the space. From the top of his drenched black locks to every chiseled facet of his lean, muscled body, the marshal glistened from exertion as he moved about the clearing in what seemed to be… dancing? No, that’d be silly. Graves didn’t dance. However, Rarity’s mistake could be forgiven because with motions so fluid, like water rolling over smooth river stones with nary a ripple in sight, what else could it be?
Well, whatever it was, it was something else entirely because despite the liquid grace, there was a definite edge as well. His movements were sharp, clean and powerful as each gesture cracked through the air with the snap of a bullwhip and the implacable force of a blacksmith’s hammer. Dance though it may have looked, the marshal was a hurricane balancing on the razor’s edge, absolute power under perfect, unyielding control.
The young lady watched in fascination as the raven-haired soldier continued his movements that quickly became more and more fantastical with each passing moment. In one instant, he was a gliding heron, grace and poise as it danced upon a mirror pond. In the next, he was a monkey who leaped through the air with gravity defying ease and almost playful abandon. Then he became the tiger, a whirlwind of savage fury and destructive ferocity that would have put even the king of the jungle to shame.
Faster and faster he went till the eyes could see nothing but a whirlwind blur. Hands and feet lashed out, slicing through the air like flashing blades and crushing mauls. Graves pushed his body to the utmost limit and beyond, exceeding the realm of human possibility with the speed and strength of his movements. Onward he went, longer and harder til just when it seemed like his body would tear itself apart from strain, the marshal leaped, sailing through the air as heaven and earth inverted, to sweep up his spell gun and fire.
A flashing bolt lanced out and struck a tin can sitting on a stump at the other side of the clearing. Spinning into the air, Rarity gasped in amazement as a second bolt flew forward and struck the can even as it careened in its tumbling path. A third bolt followed, then a fourth, a constant stream of flashing light that suspended the can like a marionette upon strings of thundering wrath. What he did was well beyond the realms of probability, but even so, it was only long after Rarity had lost count of the number of shots fired did Graves switch to the other hand, repeating the same probability-defying odds for yet a second time.
Finally, when the can had been reduced to little more than a crumpled lump of crackling, glowing slag, did Graves finally lower his rifle and heave a long, exhausted sigh.
That’s when he heard the applause.
*****
“Marvelous!” the young lady beamed as she appeared from her concealed box seat nearby. “If you ever get tired of being a soldier, you certainly could try your hand at show biz.”
“Rarity?” the young man started, spinning to face the pretty seamstress with wide, silver eyes. “What the– what are you doing here?”
“Oh, I just happened to be on my morning run and thought I’d drop in,” she smiled as a mischievous light twinkled in her sapphire eyes. “Why, am I not allowed to be here?”
“No– I mean, yes– I mean…” Graves stammered, his brain derailed from the unexpected encounter as he did his best to conceal himself without making it obvious he was doing so. “It’s just… I thought this was out of the ways. If I’d known you were here, I’d have…. dressed properly.”
“Well there’s no need to concern yourself on my account,” Rarity replied, a very satisfied look on her face as she continued to eye him over. “Besides, what’s the point of having a handsome amore if you can’t enjoy a little eye candy now and then?”
“I… uh… what?”
Beyond an elegantly arched eyebrow and a serene smile, Rarity gave the man no reply. This left Graves at quite at a loss for what to do, so it was with cautious steps that the marshal went over and bent down to pick up his discarded shirt. All the while, the violet-haired beauty’s gaze followed him as she watched on with prim delight in an act which, if he was honest, wasn’t totally unpleasant; the idea that a beautiful girl like Rarity found him appealing to the eye certainly had its charms. But it was also very, very strange, and to save his already flushed cheeks from overwork, Graves decided it best to finish dressing post haste.
“So, what exactly were you doing there?” the pretty dressmaker asked, finally deigning to mercifully end the teasing with a genuine question.
“Combat forms,” the marshal replied, his voice now level as the clothing providing a good deal of protection to his somewhat sensitive modesty. “Learned them back in training. Don’t want to get rusty.”
“I see,” Rarity nodded just before bending over to heft up his spell gun with a delicate grunt. “And the bit with your spell gun. Also keeping off the rust?”
“Pretty much,” Graves shrugged. “If I can do that in practice, won’t have to worry about making the shots that count.”
“Interesting,” the young lady murmured as she began to examine the rifle more closely with obvious curiosity in her sapphire eyes. Despite having seen the marshal’s weapon more than most, it was the first time she’d actually held it and gotten such an up close look. It was during that inspection that, in a rare moment of clarity, Graves came up with a rather insightful idea.
“You… wanna give it a shot?”
“Who, me?” Rarity gaped in surprise before bursting out laughing. “Oh no, not I. There’s simply no way I could do something like that.”
“Sure you could,” Graves replied, even going so far as to offer an encouraging smile. “I’ll teach you everything you need to know.”
“You will?” she asked, eyebrow arched curiously once more.
Graves gave her a lopsided grin in return.
With an affectionate sigh, Rarity gave the marshal an expectant look as she hefted up the large weapon. The raven-haired soldier walked over and gently adjusted her posture and position.
“Keep your back straight,” he said, his voice a soft, gravelly rumble as he gave the side of her hip a very light nudge. “Brace the gun against your shoulder. Stay nice and relaxed; we don’t want any tension.”
“How do I hold this contraption?” Rarity asked, eyeing the rifle in hand askance.
“Hands at the grip and in front at the support. It’s a bit big for you, but you should be able to reach.”
“Hmm, I’m not so sure I understand,” the young lady frowned just before her eyes lit up with delicious inspiration. “Perhaps it’d be easier if you showed me?”
Though Graves may have been as sharp as a potato on some things, even he couldn't miss the inviting look in her eyes. So gently, and very, very carefully, the marshal stepped up behind and wrapped his arms around the young lady so he could guide her hands to their proper place.
Despite having just told Rarity to keep tension away, the marshal was having a hard time following his own advice. Even after her run, Rarity still smelled wonderful, a mix of lavender and clean effort and something else that was inexplicably, yet undeniably her. And the sensation of her pressed so close? Just a little slice of heaven on the wayside.
“That does feel more comfortable,” Rarity giggled, the playful melody in her voice an unmistakable mark of her approval. “So, what am I aiming for?”
“Knot on the tree trunk ahead. See it?”
“Of course. And the spell?”
“I'll handle that. You just focus on the shot.”
A gentle hum arose as Graves poured mana into the spell gun. As the metal glowed and sang with its familiar, mystic hum, the silver-eyed marshal's baritone rumble continued to provide steady guidance to the young lady who held the rifle in hand.
“Deep, slow breaths now. Line up the sight with the target. Don’t rush. Take your time.”
With skin so close, Graves could feel every minute movement as Rarity followed his instructions.
“Good. When you feel ready, put your hand on the trigger and squeeze slowly. Not all the way, just a bit to get it ready.”
She reached a slender finger into the guard and slowly tightened her grip.
“Focus on your breathing. Only pull as you breath out. Keep it steady.”
A soft flow of air came from her rosy lips as finger drew tauter.
“When you’re ready, breath out fully. Give the trigger just a little more pull. Little more. Little more, and…”
“… fire.”
A burst of light, and a small bolt of lightning lanced forth and struck the knot square on with a crackle of light and a flash of char.
“I… I did it,” Rarity gasped in delighted disbelief. “I can’t believe I actually did it!”
“Told you,” Graves grinned as his silver eyes twinkled like polished moonstone. “We just may make a marshal out of you ye–oof!”
Though he’d expected the squeals of delight, he hadn’t quite expected Rarity to spin around and seize him up in a rib-creaking hug quite like she did. Not that he was complaining, of course.
“Oh my goodness Graves, thank you!” she giggled as she pressed into him even close. “Goodness me, I don’t even know why I’m so excited, but… the feeling of getting everything just right, then seeing that bolt fly right where I aimed… my word, I don’t even know quite how to describe it.”
“How ‘bout satisfying?” he chuckled as he let the spell gun drop to wrap his arms around her, this time without any pretense. “Guessing that's how you feel after finishing an outfit?”
“Why, I suppose it is,” the young lady gaped as the revelation dawned. Once more, a warm smile came to her face as she looked up at the marshal with her big, blue eyes shining like sapphire stars. “Guess our worlds are coming together quite nicely, aren’t they, soldier boy?” Graves couldn’t help but smile in return.
“Huh. Guess they are.”
Leaning down, the marshal planted a tender, heated kiss on the beautiful woman’s rosy lips. Just a moment or two, but that was all the time they needed.
“So… Graves,” Rarity began, just a touch flushed and out of breath. “About your spell gun…”
“Yeah? What is it?”
Giving her lower lip a pensive bite, the pretty seamstress looked up at him with the biggest, sweetest smile she had, the one he could never say no to, and asked with an almost childish amount of delighted excitement:
“Do you think we could do that again?”
*********
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...You know, last weekend, this exact thing happened at our local range.
We're this any other author, this scene would end with implied clop. It's nice reading restrained romance. Don't find it too much on here.
Heh... alone in the woods... Rarity getting to shoot off Graves' gun.
And now she wants to do it again.
Graves is worst pony.
Rarity and guns?.....GENIUS!
I can totally picture her with a pistol or sniper rifle.
th06.deviantart.net/fs70/PRE/i/2012/307/f/8/rarity__s_stamp_of_approval_by_tiwake-d5jucs1.png
I love Rarity's characterization so much in these stories! She's definitely the Rarity from the show, but with a much sharper edge. Witty, snarky, adorable, but also a healthy dose of badass to set it off. The way you explore her relationship with Graves while managing to not only keep them chaste but give them scenes like this, it's just masterful.
You already know what I think about Graves' characterization, so I'll digress. I'm really digging these shorter vignette type stories, keep up the good work!
Disclaimer: OneNinerKilo just got back from the gym. It's possible nothing he said makes sense. You should probably ignore this comment, just to be safe.
…You know, it's amazing just how far Graves' character has developed.
Im wondering how long before CMC shooting range?
... You know, it's weird seeing this, and trying to figure out how Rarity and Graves would be... 'more' in the RP due to longer time, and then realise that they wouldn't need to 'be' more because relationships are relationships. XD
(Spoiler: Graves and co. were forced by Baldwin to take up a 'craft' for a hobby to take minds off fighting/a way to relax. (Traditional Japanese stuff, so like tea brewing, song writing, wood carving, oragami, etc.) Graves is trained in Silk Painting now, and is also 'trained' in playing the sytire. (Lap guitar/harp/square thingy.) would have gone singing/composing, but uh... That would require high Charisma or Int, and he doesn't specialize in that like he does Agility. So now he can paint his little sis and Rarity, and/or accompany Belle when she sings. X3 )
Gunpotato Graves XD
Also, there needs to be some fanart of Rarity ogling Graves with a :3 face
4262046 O.M.G. Yes!
4262235 And who knows, maybe some fan will make a commission somewhere.
It's sort of a cliché in a way - the veteran teaching the pretty young love interest how to fight. Rarity probably knows about it and that might be why she's going in that direction. If there was anyone who wants her life to be like a literary romance, after all!
Hooray rarity.
4259692 I have to admit, the whole chapter I was making childish remarks to myself about Rarity and Grave's "gun." I am apparently mentally about 12 today.
I really friken need a way to fave not only stories, but chapters
I'm waiting for the day that Rarity uses the spell gun on a real target!
This was sooo beautiful
. God I love this couple.
4968269
Yeet.