An Artist Among Animals

by Bandy

4: Kind of Something Whatever Blue

A bad secret burned in Twilight’s throat, aching to be expelled.

She hummed to herself as she walked along the dirt road to Rarity's boutique, all sharps and flats and no melody. Her voice cracked above the A flat, and no amount of modulation could weld it back together. Thoughts of Rarity brought back all the shame of the previous evenings. Twilight Sparkle thought things through as a rule. The prospect of defying the establishment she existed in, the system that gave her purpose and pension checks, scared her out of focus.

Her mind shut down piece by piece. She tried conjuring books to mind, then nursery rhymes, but they disappeared every time she blinked. To unthink was sweet poison. On a whim, she took a walk around town to clear her head and wound up in front of the boutique, knocking on the door.

Just as she realized what she had done, Rarity answered the door and pulled her into fashionable hell. Streamers littered the floor alongside ancient rolls of fabric. From the ceiling hung rows of dyed fabrics, drying and dripping their excess onto the floors. A column of ponyquins stood at attention against the far wall. A second row behind them awaited their fate from a distance.

"Rarity, your house,” Twilight said.

"It's the artist at work,” she replied despondently. “There’s a method to this madness, I swear."

Twilight levitated a roll of fabric with the intent to reshelve it only to have it immediately smacked out of her grasp. It tumbled across the room before crashing into a nearby display rack.

"Please, don't touch the fabric," Rarity insisted. "I must make every bit count. I can't buy any more."

Between the indignation and the magical backlash, Twilight almost noticed something fall from the top of the rack. It glowed blue and disappeared a moment later, leaving a few scattered hairs floating to the floor. "I think you're making this a little too hard on yourself,” Twilight said, though she knew it wasn’t true.

"I have to,” Rarity replied. “My previous self wasn't good enough. It was insufficient."

"It, like, the art?”

Rarity coughed. "I've come to the conclusion that there is a two-pronged path before me. I can move out of my long, selfless, elegant shadow and wither into a corporate mockery like what almost happened when I opened the shop in Manehatten. I could rip up my code of conduct and ride my image straight into the ground at a massive profit, or stick to my four and remain full of artistic worth and pride, except I’d be homeless.”

"Neither of those sound good.”

"So you see my dilemma."

“Is it possible to sell out for just a little while?”

"There’s no in between here. Sometimes things are just one way or the other. I've already thrown myself into the first route."

Twilight furrowed her brow.

"Well, obviously. It's the one that involves me selling lots of dresses.” Rarity moved to inspect another bolt of fabric which had fallen over before Twilight came around. “ And don’t give me that look. I am going to save my business. It will haunt me forever to do this, but I see no other option. I would rather live clinging to the ashes of my career than die with my head held high above the dominion of a cardboard box. I will cling to what I know with all my might."

“Maybe not. This is just what I came over to talk to you about, actually,” Twilight said on a whim.

“What’s that now?” Rarity asked, still focused on the fabric.

“Well, I’m just a humble servant of the people, but I do get pension from the war department, and a stipend for princessly duties, and I still get my librarian’s paycheck from the town. I want to help you, with your art and your debt. I want to commission a dress.”

Rarity appeared in front of Twilight all at once, like she had been waiting behind a veil of fabric for a cue, and wrapped her up in a hug. “That’s wonderful, Twilight. Just wonderful. Thank you! You and all my other friends inspire me so much. I’m so happy to have the opportunity to create for you again. You’ll love the results!”

“I always do,” Twilight affirmed. “So, I plan to pay in bits, which might make transactions with the bank more difficult, but it’s the easiest way for me. Is that okay?”

“No, it’s not at all okay,” Rarity replied. “For you, I could not charge. Fine art is its own reward.”

Already, Twilight could see the devices of her friend’s expressions come to life. Shears and tape measures came to life on their shelves. “Yes, but that’s exactly what sent you into debt in the first place, so take the bits,” she insisted. “This is a good investment for me.”

“I suppose I can’t say no, then. What sort of monetary amount would you like to put into the dress?”

“Something to the tune of twenty thousand bits.”

Rarity gently set her bolts of fabric on the ground. The shears and tape measures floated gracefully through the air and aligned themselves on the work table. Pages of notes came together in a crisp pile next to the working implements. The sound of a kettle come to boil cut through from the kitchen. Rarity sat down daintily across from Twilight and looked her in the eyes. The rims of her glasses cut her blue eyes right in half. She opened her mouth to speak and lingered there for just a moment, focused but unsure, before saying, “I’m sorry Twilight, I believe there has been some sort of miscommunication here.”

“No,” Twilight said with a hint of a smile on her face, “you heard me right.”

“So I did.” Rarity’s horn glowed. The kettle died down. A harsh sound like a chuckle came from deep inside her. “You want to give me twenty thousand bits for a dress? In all seriousness?”

“Really and truly. It will be taxing, no pun intended, but I’ve rationed before.”

Rarity let her finish out of politeness and then threw herself into Twilight’s arms. “You can’t be serious,” she laughed gaily, “you just can not be serious!”

The two twirled around and cried out in joy. Rarity seemed on the verge of crying as she plopped a wet kiss on Twilight’s cheek and sang thank-you’s into her ear for the world to hear, all sharps and flats and no melody.

“Twilight, can I tell you something?” Rarity said, her head still pressed against Twilight’s neck.

“Of course.”

“In my anxiety and stress, I told you a lie. I was never going to sell out. I said I would, and I don’t think I would have, but it was so tempting. All I ever wanted to do is make dresses.” She pulled away. Her smile cracked at the edges like old money. “It wouldn’t have mattered anyway. I could never even make enough dresses by the month’s end, let alone sell them.”

“So what will you do about the rest of the debt?”

“I’ll tell you exactly what I plan on doing.” Two cups floated from the kitchen. “I’m going to drink this tea with my best friend, and then I’m going to make a dress worth twenty thousand bits.” Their magic intertwined as Twilight took the teacup. Rarity’s aura felt stronger than it had in weeks. “I can’t even begin to say how thankful I am,” she chuckled. “My social graces are failing me. I really don’t know how to articulate--this incredible gift you’ve given me.”

“You’ve helped me so much over the years. I’m glad there’s something I can do.”

“You’ve given me some of my life back. Twenty thousand bits of it, anyway.” She laughed again, but the cheer was all used up. “I guess twenty thousand bits isn’t even worth a whole month of my life!”

The teacups clinked awkwardly. Twilight laughed politely and stared behind Rarity, towards an open window facing the street.

“Is the draft bothering you?” Rarity asked. “I needed some fresh air earlier, but I feel much better now.”

“It’s fine.”

“Nonsense, I can hear it in your voice. It’s really no trouble.” Rarity set down her teacup and trotted to the window. “No trouble at all,” she echoed as she slid the window shut. She lingered there for a moment longer, her eyes reflected in the glass, staring into the far-gone twilight that had just begun creeping over the outskirts of town. The afternoon had slipped away without them. Another evening was set to begin.

“Are you okay?” Twilight asked.

“What color scheme do you prefer,” Rarity asked, her eyes still and unmoving in the glass, “the deep blue I experimented with on your last gala dress, or something more gilded?”

“You don’t have to make it with actual gold,” Twilight said.

“Perhaps silver accents. And it won’t be real silver. No need to worry about that extra weight,” she chuckled flatly. “Silver will go well with your color, but that is also Princess Luna’s color. I don’t want to cause a stir with you wearing Luna’s colors. Perhaps a little bit of gold. I could perhaps style it off Celestia’s color scheme.” She squirmed happily in place and looked towards her fabrics. “White would go well with your purple, but it can’t be overdone.”

Celestia’s cutie mark banner burned in Twilight’s imagination. “Perhaps something other than white,” she interjected.

“Misty sky blue maybe, then--oh, and speaking of sky blue, we should get together with Rainbow Dash sometime. I write her letters, you know, when she doesn’t feel like going out. She says she misses our old slumber parties so much. I think it would be lovely to get together sometime.”

Sensing an opportunity, Twilight nodded. “I have a meeting with Cadence this weekend about the Crystal Heart tour, but if you can convince her to do it next weekend I’ll bring punch.”

Rarity sang a single note way out high. “It’s like everything’s back to normal,” she breathed with joy. “I’ll write her a letter as soon as I’m finished with this brainstorming session. My friends inspire me so much!”

Twilight couldn’t help but smile. “How is Dash? I haven’t talked to her at all this week.”

“Well, you know how it goes with her. The bird is trapped, but the cage is open. I just wish she would stop worrying about her scars. She’s so outgoing.”

“Some time with her friends would do her good.”

Rarity nodded, fire in her eyes. “I’ll make sure it happens. I’ll even invite Fluttershy. Even though she won’t come on principle, I know she’ll be happy knowing she was included.”

“Good. That’s kind of you,” Twilight said, though she wasn’t sure if she meant it or not. “Do you really think Dash will come?”

“Yes. I have this wonderful plan. All I have to do is hold the get-together in the evening. Dash will figure nopony can see her well if she flies fast enough, and for once in her life she’ll be on time. She gets to stretch her wings, go outside without being stared at, and we all get to see our friend again. Everypony wins.”

“If only you had been this crafty with your finances, maybe you wouldn't be in this whole mess,” Twilight almost said. Instead, she nodded and replied, “Good thinking.”

Rarity smiled back and lit up her horn. More bolts of cloth floated down from the rack, while across the room the ornate window curtains zipped across the line and cut the sunlight out of the room.

“You’ve improved a lot with your telekinesis,” Twilight noted.

“I’ve been practicing. I need my spells to be in tip-top shape once I really start cranking out new material. I still have thirty thousand bits to make up.”

Twilight wondered if that would be enough. All at once she noticed how dim the room had gotten. She looked around to see half a dozen telekinetic lights drawing the rest of the curtains shut. Colors faded. It was as if clouds had covered the sun, though slim crescents of light from the high circular windows still splashed in patches and puddles across the opposite wall. Twilight gave Rarity a questioning look.

“I like this light,” Rarity said. “It makes the room feel cooler. I think I want your dress to be cool. Not cool like how the griffons use the term, no offence to them of course, they can use it however they want, but I was thinking more the proper form of the word. I think I want your dress to capture a cool moonlit twilight. It would accentuate your compassionate nature. Well, it would do that and make you a bit more approachable. I know you're always fretting about that.” She chuckled. “Imagine. Twilight Sparkle, the cool princess.”

But Twilight didn’t feel cooler. Twilight burned. Twilight raged against herself. Her friend's smile felt like a slap in the face. Her own fake smile felt like a slap in the face. She thought things through as a rule. Well, she had thought through Caramel’s plan from every angle and every walking path around town, and she had concluded with absolute certainty that the whole thing was one big knee-jerk reaction. She had conditioned herself against those, yet here she was. She had voted against increasing postwar aide to Griffonia three times. She had thrown all that relief money back into the Equestrian economy and staved off another domestic famine.

Somepony tapped her on the shoulder. Twilight jumped.

“I’m sorry, dear,” Rarity chuckled apologetically, “but you seemed a bit spaced out.”

“No, sorry,” Twilight replied. “I was just thinking about how cool I’ll look in this new dress.”

Laughter at such a dark time was a luxury. Rarity’s laugh sounded luxurious, anyway. “It’s just the dress that looks cool. You’ll be, dare I say it, you’ll be hot!” She laughed again, long and slow and sharp and flat. “I have an idea, Twilight. I think it’ll be fun. Are you doing anything for the next hour or so?”

Here was an opportunity. Twilight had to go home. She had to help Spike with some new books that just came in. She had to do some research. She had to sit in her bed and think about the attack charms taped to her nightstand. “No,” she said instead.

Rarity gave her an emphatic look and said, “If you’re interested, how would you like to be a part of the creative process?”

“How would I do that?”

“You can experience the art of the dress! Have as much fun with it as you’d like. It’ll make the dress all the more special to you, knowing you put your own work into it.” Rarity made a display of levitating a few glass jars onto the table. “What you can do is take that fabric over there, the blue stuff--yes, that one there, take that fabric and draw your favorite star map onto it with the paste in that jar there. Just magic the stuff on there, it won’t stick to your aura,” she giggled. “Then, cover the whole thing in that special glitter there.”

“And I should dump the glitter back into the jar when I’m done?”

“Yes please. The swath is big enough that I can use it for multiple things depending on how the dress turns out. It’s a utility, basically.” She laughed again, tittering and nervous, sharps and flats. “It will look cool.”

Twilight looked at Rarity to find her staring deeply at the shuttered window across the room. She cleared her throat politely and said, “Rarity?”

The aura around the room crackled with distortion. Scissors snipped. Fabrics creased. Rarity spun around. Her tea sloshed and left a long trail down the side of the cup. Her eyes locked with Twilight’s, and they both saw fire.

“I'm sorry,” Twilight stammered, “I didn't mean to startle you.”

Rarity’s magic stabilized. The fire was gone. She straightened herself up and batted her mane back into shape as she said, “Please, don't worry about it.” She moved towards the record player on the opposite side of the room, but embraced Twilight at the last second. Her eyes were way up close now. Twilight had trouble keeping herself out of them, eternities of hue. “I was feeling all sentimental, and now I’m afraid I’m going to cry.”

“Well, you don’t have to do that,” Twilight said plainly.

Rarity nodded and hummed something blue. Flat thirds and sharp ninths fell into her mane and tangled there.

Twilight knew what she had to do.