• Published 26th Dec 2014
  • 13,899 Views, 1,938 Comments

Three Gems and a Scooter - RaylanKrios



For Rarity, what starts as a simple quest to help her sister turns into an unexpected journey of what family really means.

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Respecting Decisions

Scootaloo finished soaking up her new surroundings and looked up at Rarity with wide purple eyes. She made a rare moment of eye contact, “Thank you,” she said, an earnest softness lacing her voice that Rarity found both disarming and heartbreaking. Unable to keep the previously established eye contact, Scootaloo instead opted to look back toward the floor. “I really like it,” Scootaloo said quietly,

Rarity gently used her hoof to lift the small orange snout upwards so Scootaloo could see her more clearly. “You’re very welcome, Scootaloo. I’m glad you approve,” she said, smiling warmly. “You still have lots of space on your walls, how would you like to decorate them?”

“I’m gonna color some pictures,” Scootaloo said with more than a faint note of pride. “Maybe one of me and Rainbow Dash!”

Rarity winced but made an effort to hide the gesture, lest Scootaloo ask why that statement pained her. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. Do you need anything?”

Scootaloo shook her head and fluttered her wings. “Nope. I’ve already got some art supplies, and I’ll bet Sweetie wouldn’t mind if I borrowed her desk.”

Rarity didn’t bother to emphasize that, as long as she was staying at the Boutique, Scootaloo should consider the desk in the corner as belonging to her. “I’m sure she wouldn’t. I have some more errands to run and perhaps a bit of work to do. I shall most likely be in my parlor room if you require anything further.”

Scootaloo nodded and set about coloring, and Rarity took that as her cue to exit.

Her first stop was the library. Even though the Golden Oaks Library had been destroyed, Twilight had dedicated the first floor of her new friendship castle as the town’s library. Some ponies argued that it was because Twilight was trying to keep some semblance of consistency amidst the changes in her life, but the truth was much simpler. Twilight liked books and she liked being a librarian. Helping ponies discover new reading material, organizing the different sections, deciding which new books to add to the archives, all of those things made Twilight happy, and she wasn’t about to let a small thing like the library being destroyed prevent her from doing them.

No sooner had Rarity entered the library then she was accosted by Spike, who eagerly leapt up from behind the reference desk and waddled over to her.

“Hi Rarity! What are you doing here? Can I help you with anything?” Spike asked, his tail swishing back and forth in anticipation.

Rarity smiled patiently at the lovesick dragon. His feelings were painfully transparent, and one day she might have to break his heart, but for now there was no harm in letting Spike hold onto his childlike crush. In any case she, already had one troubled child on her agenda, she didn’t need a second. “As a matter of fact, Spike, I believe you can. Could you direct me to the section of the library where I might find books on how to care for fillies?”

Spike physically recoiled at the question. “Wha—? But, I thought you weren’t…” Spike stuttered. He let out a painful sounding sigh and hung his head. “It doesn’t matter, so who’s the father?”

Rarity suddenly jerked her head back in surprise as she realized what Spike was implying. “I’m not—”

But before she could finish, Spike shook his head vigorously. “No, y’know what, that doesn’t matter either. I just want you to know that if you ever need anything I’m here for you and I hope the two of you are very happy together,” he said, though the pain of that concession was still spelled out clearly on his face.

“I’m not pregnant, Spike!” Rarity snapped, more out of a desire to move past this silly notion than actual anger.

Despite his best efforts to hide it Spike appeared significantly buoyed by Rarity’s remark, breathing out an audible “Whew,” before following it with, “not that it’s any of my business or anything.”

“Will you please just point me in the direction of your parenting section,” Rarity replied.

“Sure, it’s actually right next to general psychology, right around the corner, you can’t miss it.”

Spike paused and frowned. “Um, if you don’t mind my asking, if you’re not pregnant why are you picking up books about how to be a parent? There are more fun things to read y’know.”

Rarity considered how much she should tell the young drake. She had already determined that Scootaloo’s neuroses were not her secrets to share. The young filly worked hard at hiding them, and Rarity reasoned that she should respect Scootaloo’s wishes. Rarity wanted to pick up a few books on child psychology in the hopes that she might better understand what Scootaloo was going through, but she needed to do so in a way that kept her reasons for doing so hidden.

However her vow of silence did not mean that she was obligated to hide everything about her guest and the information that Scootaloo would be under her care for the time being seemed benign enough to spread. “Yes, Spike, I am aware of that. Scootaloo is staying with me for a little while, and I want to be prepared should I encounter an unfamiliar situation.” Which had the benefit of being both true and still respectful of Scootaloo’s desires.

Spike shrugged his shoulders. “That makes sense. I’m sure you’ll make a great temporary mom or whatever,” Spike said, evidently now even more relaxed that he didn’t have to worry about competing for Rarity’s affections.

A quick thank you later and Rarity found herself intensely studying the selection of parenting books available. Based on the wide array of books available, Twilight certainly didn’t skimp when it came to presenting opposing viewpoints about any subject. A cursory glance at some of the titles suggested that Rarity should take a firm approach with Scootaloo, impressing on her the idea that misbehavior will not be tolerated. Other suggested the opposite, that troubled fillies need an environment free of negative consequences, so that they might learn to have confidence in their own choices.

In the end, Rarity opted for a couple of general parenting guides, geared toward an overview of parenting philosophies rather than adhering to a specific mantra. Her choices also allowed her to keep up the appearance of the half truth she told Spike as she checked out her selections.

Books nestled in her saddlebag, Rarity made another quick run into town, thankfully not running into Rainbow Dash again, and returned home to start on an upcoming dress order. One thing about the past few days that had been consistent was that her schedule had become much more volatile. Taking advantage of a quiet afternoon seemed like the most prudent course of action, even if she preferred not to work over the weekends. As she sewed, she found that the sounds of Scootaloo puttering around upstairs provided a kind of white noise that helped calm her thoughts. Whether it was because that sound meant that Scootaloo was likely temporarily untroubled or it was just the soothing effects of ambient noise, Rarity couldn’t be sure, but she was thankful for its presence either way.

The hour began to grow late, and the question of what to do about dinner began to loom. Rarity had left Scootaloo to her own devices for lunch, and much to her delight, Scootaloo had not only proved capable of fending for herself, she had also neatly stacked her dishes in the sink when she had finished. Scootaloo hadn’t seen fit to wash her own dishes but even slow progress was progress.

Rarity trotted upstairs and poked her head into Scootaloo’s room. The once sparse walls were now slightly less so. Childlike drawings of a selfish jerk soaring through the clouds now dotted the walls near the desk in the corner, including one where a small orange pegasus flew beside her.

But it wasn’t the pictures on the wall that had Rarity’s attention it was the filly dancing in the middle of the room. Apparently done with coloring for the day, Scootaloo had put on a pair of headphones and was currently dancing with the carefree abandon that only children truly possessed.

Rarity stood in the doorframe as still as she possibly could, just watching. She couldn’t hear what Scootaloo was listening to, but that almost didn’t matter. Scootaloo moved with such a defined sense of rhythm and grace that it was easy to imagine the music pulsing through the headphones. Scootaloo’s head kept bobbing up and down, keeping the beat. Occasionally she would flip her hair to the side, but always in time. Her hips wiggled back and forth, in perfect sync with her head, and every so often she’d incorporate a pirouette or shimmy, never once stumbling. Her movements were uniformly precise, her muscles always tightly coiled, every action an efficient use of both motion and space. Rarity couldn’t help but smile watching. Perhaps the most impressive aspect of Scootaloo’s unwitting performance, was that she didn’t seem to be restrict herself to one particular school of dance.

Rarity was able to recognize some classical elements in the routines, the dips and pirouettes Scootaloo liked to incorporate among them. But the hair tossing and shimmying seemed to be derived from a more modern discipline. And Scootaloo blended them together seamlessly.

After a particularly energetic turn in which Scootaloo used her wings to propel herself into the air she spotted Rarity in the doorway, leaping backwards with a surprised yelp, before landing most ungracefully on her rear end.

“I’m sorry, dear. I didn’t mean to startle you.”

Scootaloo stood up, rubbing her haunches gingerly. “What do you want?” she asked, more surprised at the intrusion than angry.

“Well I came to see what your thoughts were about dinner. But if you don’t mind my saying so, you are quite a talented dancer.”

Scootaloo looked down at the floor, a personality quirk that Rarity now made it her mission to correct. “No, I’m not. This is just something I do for fun.”

Rarity walked into the room, closing the gap between her and Scootaloo. “Have you ever taken lessons?” Rarity asked, once again gently lifting Scootaloo’s chin up.

“Once, a little while ago, but then I had to move and my new parents didn’t want to pay for the lessons anymore.”

Rarity frowned slightly. Scootaloo was really good. It would be a shame if the only thing preventing her from exploring her love of dance was something as trifling as a few bits. Furthermore it appeared that dancing made Scootaloo happy, and that alone made it worth the cost as far as Rarity was concerned. “If it were up to you, would you like to resume your lessons?”

“Yeah, sure. And I’d also like to fly, doesn’t mean either is going to happen.”

“Well, I may not be able to do anything about the flying, but what if I paid for the dance lessons?”

Scootaloo went rigid and Rarity could clearly see Scootaloo’s temper about to flare up. “You don’t have to do that! It’s not like I’m staying here very long. And I don’t want to go to a few lessons only to have them stop again.”

Rarity considered Scootaloo’s objection. It was a valid point, of course it was also very easily remedied. “Very well then, I promise to continue to fund your dance lessons for as long as you live in Ponyville.”

The idea that she might be able to take dance lessons again certainly seemed appealing to Scootaloo. Her wings fluttered and Rarity could see the beginnings of a smile. But it also appeared that Scootaloo’s insistence on being miserable continued to assert itself as the smile transformed into a more grim countenance. “Maybe you could use the money Foal Services sends you,” she said hopefully.

Rarity shook her head. “No, Scootaloo, I promised that you could direct that money toward a charity, and you are not a charity.”

“But—”

“Scootaloo, you are going to have to learn to let ponies help you. You are quite talented, and as a patron of the arts I would very much like to see your gift properly developed. Now, if you would rather not take dance lessons that is your decision and I will respect it. However, if you would enjoy further honing your craft, I would be delighted to assist you in doing so.”

Scootaloo kept her chin up, but her eyes darted around the room. “Okay, umm, maybe I can help out around the shop or something too.”

Rarity shook her head again. “I am not doing this so that I can pry some sort of concession from you. You have made quite clear your lack of interest in anything fashion related and I intend to respect that decision as well.”

“I have to do something to make it up to you,” Scootaloo pleaded.

Rarity smiled, her victory nearly at hoof. “You can tell me what you’d like to eat for dinner.”

Author's Note:

I enjoyed the debate in the comments section of the last chapter. I'm glad that some people sided with Rainbow Dash and some people sided with Rarity. There's no right answer, and I'm pleased that I have managed to stir conflicting emotions.

Most authors love feedback.