Rarity
Stretching
“Rarity, are you doing your exercises?” a voice called upstairs.
Rarity rolled her eyes. In a corner, untouched, lay a set of disks and balls that she was supposed to be using for levitation practice. She never bothered using them if she could help it. After all, she was destined to become a fashionista, not a wizard. The tools of her trade were things like fabrics and sewing machines, not those silly toys. She turned to the sketch pad on the floor and got back to drawing a new wedding dress for her princess doll. She had no time for silly levitation exercises; after all, those dresses weren't going to design themselves.
“Yes, mom,” she replied, speaking around the pencil in her mouth. “I'm doing them right now.”
“Glad to hear it, because I want to see how good you're getting.”
Rarity spat out her pencil in a most unladylike fashion. She hadn't been expecting that! She ran over and dug through her practice equipment until she found the smallest ball. Focusing with all her might, she levitated it into the air and began touching it to each of the walls in her room like she had been told. Her mother walked in seconds later. She was a portly unicorn with a towering bouffant of a mane and often wore mismatched clothes. Rarity would never understand how her own mother could be so tacky.
“Oh, so you weren't lying,” her mother said. “Good.”
Rarity gave a nervous smile. “Of course not.”
“Why just one ball, though?” said her mother. “Shouldn't you be able to move three or four by now?”
“Maybe I'm just bad at magic,” said Rarity. “I guess there's no point in keeping me in training, is there?”
“If you aren’t getting better, you need more help, not less”
Rarity rolled her eyes. “Mom, why do I have to go to extended training? I passed magic kindergarten just fine."
“Yes, but you need to learn finer control, especially after that searching spell dragged you across town. You have to control your magic; you can't let it control you.”
“But I don't need to know this stuff if I'm going to become a fashionista.”
Her mother came over and looked her in the eyes. “Rarity, I know you don't think it's important now, but you don't know where life is going to take you. I'm not saying you shouldn't follow your dream, but you don't know how long it'll take you to get there or what you're going to run into along the way.”
Rarity stared, uninterested. Her mother smiled.
“I don't expect you to understand all this right now. Come on, let's get some practice in.”
Her mother set the disks out on the floor, and the balls next to them.
“All right, I want you to stack the disks in a tower, biggest to smallest.”
Rarity rolled her eyes again, but did as she was told. She lifted the disks one at a time, setting them in order. They wobbled and bobbed through the air and the stack collapsed twice, but her mother wouldn't let her stop until the stack was completed. She was sweating by the time it was over. She looked up, waiting to see her mother nod in satisfaction.
But her mother did not nod. In fact, she looked rather disappointed.
“You haven't been practicing at all,” she said, frowning.
“Well, no,” Rarity admitted. “But I've been designing dozens of dresses for Princess Twinkleshine; see?”
She held up a detailed sketch of a dress and her mother nodded at it.
“That's very nice, dear, but you need to be practicing your magic like I told you.”
Rarity stared at the floor, avoiding her mother’s disappointed gaze. When she glanced up, her mother was levitating a large box. With a flash of her horn, all of Rarity’s sketchpads, pencils, fabrics, pins and other essentials flew into it. Her mother took this box, along with Rarity’s prized sewing machine, out into the hallway and set them on top of the bookshelf. After a moment, she added a few heavy books to the box and shut the lid.
“There,” she said. “No more distractions.”
Rarity was aghast. “Mom! Those are my things!”
“Yes, and they're distracting from your magic. I'm not going to take them down for you, but as long as you keep practicing, you'll be able to get them down yourself. Then you can go back to designing dresses for your dolls.”
“But, but-”
Two rooms away, Sweetie Belle woke from her nap and started wailing.
“Oh, she's hungry again.” Her mother headed into the nursery, but Rarity called after her.
“Mom, that's not fair!”
“We'll discuss this later, Rarity,” said her mother.
Defeated, Rarity slunk back to her room, ears drooping. Who cared about magic practice? Not her. And why did her mother care so much anyway? It wasn't like Rarity had aspirations of becoming some amazing wizard. It wasn't fair! And the worst part was, she couldn't even whine and yell any more. They had a foal to do that now. Whenever the foal started screaming and crying, her mother and father fell all over themselves to make her feel better, but when Rarity did it, they told her to act her age. It just wasn't fair! Why couldn't things be like they used to be, back before the foal came and before she had to learn magic?
For moment, she considered throwing a great wailing fit at the unfairness of it all, but she couldn't bring herself to do it. It wasn't ladylike at all and she would probably get yelled at again. With a sigh, Rarity threw herself on her bed, settling for sulking instead. She was determined to stay mad at her mother for taking away her stuff. That would make her mother feel bad for making her so unhappy. Then she would apologize and return all of Rarity’s sewing things. Once her mother and father saw how important it was to her, they'd never force her to practice her magic again. She even imagined they might realize she deserved all their attention and would send the foal back to the hospital where they got her.
Sulking was only satisfying for a little while and soon Rarity grew bored. She glanced over at her poster of Satin Sash's spring designs, paying attention to how the dresses were so carefully designed. Not one crooked seam nor a single thread out of place. That was how she wanted her dresses to be: perfect.
Rarity glanced up at practice work. The disk tower was a tower, but a very sloppy and unstable one. She sighed. Well, as long as she didn't have anything else to do, she might as well straighten it out.
At first, she tried nudging the disks back in place with her nose and hooves, but they just wouldn't stay put. It seemed she would have to use her magic. Focusing with all her might, she grasped the top disk and set it aside. She repeated the process until the tower was gone, then set about rebuilding it as neatly as she could. It was slow going, moving only one at a time, so she decided to push herself. Just a little; she didn't want to get good at this and forget about fashion. She focused with all her strength and took hold of two disks at once. It was much harder than she thought, but she could do it. She stacked the tower again like that, two disks at a time. But it was still sloppy when she was done.
It seemed to her that the only way she could set this tower up as neat as possible was to pick up all the pieces, put it together and set it on the ground already finished. And the disks weren't exactly light, either. Despite all this, she was determined to get it done. She planted her hooves and focused on one disk after another, until all of them were glowing with her magic. Taking deep breath, she willed them into the air. She gasped when she realized it was much harder than she had anticipated. She tried over and over to get them in the air, without much success. Finally, she gave it everything she had, no longer caring that she would get tired and sweaty. At last, every single disk came off the floor and hovered off the floor. She grinned, delighted at the sight-
“Ow!”
A sharp pain flashed at the base of her horn. All the disks dropped to the floor, followed shortly by the filly herself, rubbing her head. Where had that pain come from? It wasn't like anything she'd ever felt before. The sore spot turned into a dull ache that throbbed in time with her heartbeat. She glanced back at the disks on the floor and turned her nose up at them.
“Hmph. Just goes to show I'm not cut out for magic.”
A knock came at her door. She looked up to see her father standing in her doorway balancing a hoofball on his head. His mustache quirked upward as he smiled.
“Hey kiddo,” he said, “you wanna have a kick-around for a while?”
Normally, she would have made up some kind of excuse, but considering her alternatives and the fact that she was already sweaty, she didn't see the point. It would be a nice break from magic practice, after all.
“Sure,” she said, following him out the door. She glanced back at her room, remembering the feeling of delight when she had gotten all the disks in the air. Well, who cared, anyway? Any excuse to get out magic practice was a good one, as far as she was concerned.
Rarity and her father had plenty of fun playing one on one hoofball in their yard. She wasn't nearly as good as him; earth ponies tended to be more inclined towards athleticism, but he taught her everything she knew anyway. Although, she wasn't allowed do headers anymore. Horns and inflated balls didn't mix very well.
“So, your mother tells me you're finally getting some magic practice in,” he said.
Rarity groaned. “Do we have to talk about this?”
“Honey, you know we only want the best for you. Practicing magic might not be as fun as designing and sewing outfits, but it's important. Magic is a part of who you are and you want to be the best 'you' you can be, right?”
She shrugged. “I guess.”
“What do you mean, 'I guess?' I thought you knew exactly who you wanted to be.”
“I do. I want to be the greatest fashionista in Equestria.”
“So why can't the greatest fashionista in Equestria be good at magic too?”
“But it's so hard!”
He came over to her and gave her a hug. “Everything is hard at first. You think I got my own tour business by quitting after a week of pulling taxis around?”
Rarity looked at the ground. “No. But I don't see how moving things around with magic is going to be useful if I use a sewing machine.”
Her father thought for a moment. “What if you learned a spell that would do all the sewing for you, so you wouldn't have to use a machine?”
Rarity perked up at that. “I've never heard of that spell.”
“Well, it might not exist. But you could invent it.”
“A sewing spell,” said Rarity. “That doesn't sound so bad. But how would I practice it?”
Her father smiled. “I think I have an idea. Come with me.”
In just a few hours, Rarity held a board with a series of large holes drilled in it. The idea was to practice her stitching skills by passing a ball back and forth between the holes. It seemed simple enough, but keeping both of them levitating at once was still very difficult. On the other hoof, knowing she had a chance to practice something that might actually be useful to her was motivation enough to do magic again.
She burst into the house, levitating her new toys with her. Her mother sat on the couch in the den, cradling a bundle of blankets.
“Mom! Mom, look what Dad just made! Now I can learn to sew and do magic at the same time.”
“Shh!” her mother scolded from the couch. The foal was asleep in her arms, or rather had been asleep. Rarity's yelling had woken her up and she started to cry.
“Rarity, what did I tell you about keeping quiet while your sister is sleeping?” said her mother.
“I didn't know she was asleep! I just wanted-”
“Tell me later, Rarity.” Her mother whickered to the foal in her arms, trying to soothe her back to sleep. Her father came over to see.
“Aw, is she still teething?” he said. “Poor thing.”
Rarity, annoyed she'd lost the spotlight to some crying foal, brought the board and ball up over her head and began passing the ball through the holes. Her head still ached at the base of her horn, but she ignored it.
“Mom, look what I can do! Look!”
Her mother glared at her. “Rarity, not now!”
Dejected, Rarity took her toys back up to her room and tossed them in the corner. Her mother had been bothering all day about magic practice but now that Rarity was actually practicing, her mother didn't care. It was all the baby's fault. Her parents didn't care about their old baby when they had a new one to play with.
Thinking about her sister only made her more upset, so Rarity began imagining what other spells might be useful. Maybe a color changing spell, so if she made a dress, she could see what it looked like in different colors without having to make a whole new dress. And maybe a spell that made fabrics shrink and grow so she could make multiple sizes for different ponies.
She fell asleep that night still imagining new spells she could invent.
*
Over the next few days, Rarity took to her magic practice like never before. Her weaving board, as she called it, was still difficult to use but she could now weave the ball all the way through to the end. The disks had become easier to stack as well. Now she could stack them all at once, though not as neatly as she would have liked. Now, she could even move four balls at once and touch them into the four corners of her room, something that had seemed impossible a few weeks ago. She had not forgotten about her belongings that sat up out of her reach and every day she tried to take them down. Her mother had chosen the most difficult spot possible. The box and sewing machine sat behind a lip that ran all the way around the shelf and both of them were far too heavy for her to lift over it. They shuffled and rattled as she tried, but they wouldn't cooperate. It was frustrating, but not nearly so frustrating as the ache in her horn, which seemed to grow worse the more she used her magic.
The worst part of these last few days was the fact that not only was her sister teething, but she also caught a mild cold. Her parents were completely preoccupied and never seemed to be able to spare a minute for her. She had thought her mother would be impressed with all the magic she was doing, but all she heard was “Sweetie Belle” this and “Sweetie Belle” that. At the very least, Rarity wanted to know why her horn was hurting so much. Especially since now it was hurting even when she wasn't doing magic.
“Mom,” she said one day, as her mother searched the nursery for something, “I have a question.”
“What?” said her mother, keeping an eye on Sweetie Belle who was coughing and fussing.
“Well, whenever I try to-”
“Oh no,” said her mother. “Magnum! We're out of diapers!”
“You need me to get some?” her father called from the den.
“Yes! Go quick, please.”
Rarity heard the door shut downstairs. Moments later, Sweetie Belle started crying again.
“Oh, sorry, baby,” said her mother, nuzzling the foal. “I didn't mean to wake you up.”
She picked up the foal and rocked her gently, whispering to her. Rarity stepped forward.
“Mom, I wanted to ask-”
“Later, Rarity. Your sister needs to go back to sleep if she's going to get over this cold. Poor thing. She doesn't know what's happening to her.”
Neither do I, thought Rarity, frustrated. She stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her. She didn't feel a bit of remorse when she heard her sister crying again. In fact, aside from how it was making her head hurt even more, she found a strange kind of pleasure in making her sister cry. However, it disappeared when her mother started yelling.
“Rarity!” cried her mother, throwing the door open. “You know better than that. Don't go slamming doors when your sister is trying to sleep. Do you want her to stay sick?”
The combination of her mother yelling, her sister crying, all the ways she was being ignored and the pain in her head made something snap inside her.
“Yes I do!” Rarity yelled, ears flat. “Then you can take her back to the hospital and leave her there because I don't want her!”
Her mother scowled at her. “You're in time out, young filly! You go sit in the corner of the hallway until I say otherwise. How can you say something like that about your own sister?”
“It's not that hard,” Rarity muttered under her breath.
“What was that?”
“Nothing.”
Rarity sat in the corner and sulked. All that yelling had made her head ache even worse. The pain in her horn didn’t get any better, but it didn’t get any worse either. She sat in the corner long enough to hear her father come back from the store. He came to the nursery to drop off the diapers and she heard them talking about her.
“What's she in the corner for?” said her father.
“Attitude adjustment. I don't know what's gotten into her.”
“Maybe all the crying is getting on her nerves.”
“Wouldn't surprise me.”
Their voices dropped and Rarity couldn't hear them anymore. It was just as well. They didn't even know why she was so mad. They didn't even want to ask her about it. Well, fine. She could play their game. If they didn't care about her, she wouldn't care about them. No more magic practice. No more magic, period. She was going to get her stuff back and work on her dresses again. She didn't care what they thought anymore.
Finally, her mother came over.
“Do you have something to say to me?” she asked. Rarity didn't look up.
“I'm sorry,” she said, keeping her voice flat so her mother couldn't tell she wasn't sorry at all.
“For?”
“For slamming the door and being disrespectful.”
“You know better than that, right?'
“Yes, mom.”
“Good. Time out is over, but no more throwing fits; do you understand me?”
“Yes, mom.”
*
A few hours passed and her father left to take Sweetie Belle to the doctor. Rarity decided now was a good time to get her box and sewing machine back. If she dropped everything, she couldn't get in trouble for waking her sister up again.
Rarity stared up at the bookshelf. It was the same size it had been the day her belongings had been stranded there, but she had a much better handle on her magic now. After this, she wouldn’t ever have to bother with magic again. Her plan might go a little smoother without the splitting headache, but she was positive she could handle it. She most definitely was not going to ask her mother for help. Her mother didn't care about her anymore, so why even bother?
Planting her hooves and bracing herself, Rarity focused her whole mind on her target. She took a deep breath and, bracing herself for the pain, took hold of them with her magic. She felt as though a spike was being driven through her skull, but grit her teeth and bore it. The box and machine were in her control now. She pulled them to the edge of the shelf and tried to lift them over the lip. No luck. She just wasn't strong enough to lift them.
But maybe she didn't have to lift them. Maybe she could just pull them by the tops and they'd tip over the edge. Then she'd catch them before they hit the ground. Brilliant! That was bound to work. She reoriented her magic until she was gripping the machine and the box by their uppermost parts. She kept on pulling them until they began to tip over the lip of the shelf. Her whole head was throbbing now, but she couldn't stop. She pulled, harder and harder until she felt their weight shift. Not much further now. She got ready to catch them and gave just the tiniest pull.
They tipped over the edge, but she had overestimated her ability to catch them. The sewing machine didn't even slow down and it was all she could do to leap out of the way. But while she was doing that, the box crashed on her back, knocking her to the floor. Her head cracked against the sewing machine and pain exploded through her head and horn.
Rarity cried and wailed, pressing her hooves to her horn. She didn't care about magic, or sewing, or fashion or her anger anymore – she just wanted the pain to stop. But she didn't even know why it was hurting so bad and all she could do was cry.
She barely paid attention to the hoofsteps coming down the hallway. “Rarity, what was that- oh my goodness!”
Rarity felt her skin tingle. Her mother hadn't picked her up using magic since she could walk on her own. She felt herself drifting through the air, but her enjoyment of the experience was totally ruined by the pain in her head.
“What happened?” her mother asked.
“My horn hurts,” Rarity whimpered, far too injured to care about not caring about her parents any more.
“I'll say. You took quite a hit. Some ice should help.”
A cold something pressed down on her head. Rarity shivered. “It's too cold.”
“It needs to be cold to make it better. But I can get you a blanket to keep you warm.”
The pain had eased a little and Rarity opened her eyes to see that she was in the den. Her mother brought a blanket over and wrapped her tight.
“Better?”
“Not really.”
Her mother nuzzled her, accidentally bumping Rarity's horn, which sent another shock of pain through her.
“Ow! Don't do that.”
“Sorry, honey. I didn't know it was still sore.”
“It's been sore for days,” said Rarity. “Ever since you made me start practicing my magic.”
Something seemed to occur to her mother. “I'll bet you're stretching.”
“Stretching?”
“Yes. When unicorns start seriously practicing their magic, their horn has to grow so it can be more effective.” She let out a breath. “No wonder you've been so cranky these last few days.”
Rarity could feel the cold seeping under her skin, but it wasn't helping.
“How long does it hurt for?” she asked.
“Until it finishes stretching. It's like when your teeth come in; it just hurts and there's nothing to be done. But if it hurt so much, why didn't you say anything?”
Rarity sniffled, feeling her tears coming back. “I tried, but you were always busy with Sweetie Belle. And dad didn't know anything and he said I should ask you.”
Her mother sighed. “Sorry, it's not easy having a sick foal in the house. She needs a lot of attention.”
Tears ran down Rarity’s face. “But what about me? I practiced my magic like you said and I got good at it. But you didn't care. All you cared about was how much noise I was making and how I kept waking Sweetie Belle up. And now I can't even show you how good I am because my horn hurts too much!”
Rarity sobbed a little, but moments later, her mother nuzzled her tears away.
Her mother’s next words were soft and sad. “Rarity, I am so, so sorry for ignoring you. I really am glad that you decided to practice magic, but it wasn't fair of me to ignore you like I did, especially if you needed help. Forgive me?”
Her mother drew her in close and they cuddled together on the couch. Rarity smiled. It had been a long time since they'd done this.
“Yes,” said Rarity, nuzzling her back. “I forgive you.”
“Good. And don't forget that I still love you.”
“I love you back.”
A minute of silence passed as Rarity lay there in her mother's arms.
“Mom?”
“Yes?”
“Is Sweetie Belle going to cry forever? Because if she does, I still don't want her.”
Her mother laughed. “No, she'll grow out of it, just like you did. And one day you'll love spending time with her.”
Rarity nodded. Hopefully, that wouldn't take too long. Suddenly, another spike of pain shot through her horn, making her whimper. But her mother held her tight, nuzzling her gently. Rarity relaxed, despite the pain. It would stop someday, too.
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Wow. This is great. Keep up the good work!
Great story, I still cant wait for Rainbow's part! The chapter was great.
I can`t wait for the next chapter. I bet it`s gonna be
So awesome!!
I hope you do pinkie pie next!
This is a well-written story with a lot of potential! Good job!
FAVED, very well written, heart felt and fun to read. Can't wait for more, especially Twilight's part!
Odd, I thought SB was born until much later.
i had this i dea months ago but when i came out with it i found i am not the best writer, i am glad someone else could come out with something more well written
Brohoof!
Aww, I love this story! It's heartfelt and exceedingly well-written. I can't wait to see how the handle the others. Faved!
D'aaawwww.
So far so good. Can't wait to see the rest.
Nice. Well written.
Rarity's mom is a bitch.
You read my first story, so I thought I should read yours. And I'm glad I did! This could easily have been something much simpler about Rarity supposedly learning her lesson and practicing on her own until she could get her things back, but you made it much more real by including the complication of Sweetie Belle. I have a younger brother myself, and this story really brought back memories of learning what it's like to not be the one your parents are always fussing about anymore.
It was also nice to see Rarity's dad approach the problem of her magic from an outside perspective- he can't cast spells himself, so he identifies with his daughter a bit more that way, but he's also open to the fantastic possibilities of unicorn magic, which help him come up with ideas that someone who sees it as a chore wouldn't think of.
The ending was good, too- we have a triumph for Rarity's magic and creativity in her solution to bringing down the box and the sewing machine, but also the kind of crisis that it sometimes takes to remind the parent of a newborn that their older child must still be important as well. And the last exchange reminds us that... well, you're never really going to stop wishing your parents would take your sibling back. Until you do.
There were a few grammatical errors in this story, but the writing itself is top-notch. And the next chapter is about Pinkie Pie!
That should be interesting.
As an older sister who got a new baby sister when she was still young. I can definitely remember days where it felt like my parents didn't have any time for me and didn't care. Thankfully I didn't have to get as hurt as poor Rarity to be reminded that they still loved me just as much. This is a very touching piece.