The Unicorn and the Stranger

by PhycoKrusk

Melancholy

On the afternoon of the first day, when the train arrived just outside the sleepy coastal town of Portside, there were only a few passengers who stepped out from its few cars — most of which were carrying cargo and mail — and among their number was a unicorn from Ponyville, another village in the Equestrian heartland that was anything but sleepy. Although a white-coated unicorn was not unheard of in Portside, the contrast of that white coat and horn with her curled, violet coiffure and twisting tail drew the eyes of the few residents who bothered to watch the station.

This elegant mare was Rarity Unicorn of Ponyville, known throughout the Equestrian heartland for her acts of heroism as well as her generosity. Portside was not in the heartland, however, and so it was little surprise that the Portsidians did not recognized Rarity even accounting for the distraction provided by the cloud of ten bags and suitcases that followed after her, wrapped in the glow of her pale blue magic and levitating through the air without care. A moment later, any pony that saw her would dismiss the sight as just another Canterlan come to visit their village and packing far, far more than she could have conceivably needed for the trip.

Had she been of the mind to notice, Rarity would have dismissed their own dismissals; after all, who could say what situation would arise while she was on holiday? That, at least, had been the reasoning when she had been packing, although that reasoning was not near the front of her mind as she walked down the thoroughfare with a small frown and a distracted gaze. Her luggage was not at the front of her mind, either, simply carried along out of reflexive habit more than anything. Normally, she might have paid a porter to carry her bags to her hotel, while she went sightseeing, or perhaps acquired lunch, but for a change, she couldn’t bring herself to bother through the fog of melancholy. That melancholy was, after all, the reason she’d come to Portside in the first place.

Pushing the thought from her mind, if only for the moment, and holding her head high, Rarity managed a look of indifference as she approached and reached the hotel that held a reservation in her name. Checking in proved no difficulty, nor did reaching her room and depositing her luggage there, neither of which did anything to improve her mood. Even a small obstacle would have at least allowed her to occupy her mind for a short while. There was nothing to do for it, though, and without anything to keep her at the hotel, she donned a sunhat and locked up her room before she proceeded back to the lobby and then out the front doors.

As she stepped back out onto the street, Rarity managed very much to not have the appearance of melancholy, even though it was just an act. Sightseeing may have lifted her spirits somewhat, but she had already made plans for that the following day and saw no good reason to deviate from her schedule. Rather than exploring the town, she made her way towards the beach instead.

Portside was not a tourist destination by any means; even its museums were small and funded solely by local philanthropy. Accordingly, the sandy shore was almost devoid of bathers, as would be expected for early afternoon on a weekday, and that was exactly what Rarity had hoped for: Without the distraction of large crowds, she could focus solely on her inspiration and perhaps divine where it had gone missing.

But the lack of the distraction of large crowds forced her to focus on her missing inspiration, and she felt her melancholy all the more intensely because of it. When she reached the shore, she walked just to the water’s edge, where the waves would wash just barely over her hooves, and stood for several long minutes, looking out to the horizon. What might she find, if she were to swim beyond it?

Finally, Rarity heaved a heavy sigh, turned and walked further down the beach, away from town, the rolling crash of the ocean her only company.

Comments

[tsaukpaetra]

Rarity is our mood right now.