1. Sparking Embers
Every mare deserved a little luxury every now and then.
Scented candles, the product of a darling little crafts boutique in Manehattan, floated into place around the bathtub. A minor force of will and a small series of light, cornflower blue flashes later they all lit, filling the bathroom with their soft, delicate glow. Soon, the soothing scent of lavender spread across the room.
Rarity breathed in deep, savouring the smell. As she did, she felt some of the stress and tension in her shoulders bleed away, drawing a content sigh. Wrapped in her fuzziest and most exquisite robe, she let her hooves carry her across the floor to the tub and, wreathing the faucet in her magic, turned on the water.
Lowering the latest of the Prima Donna series to the counter, she looked over her collection of bath oils, bath soaks, and bubble baths. With a thoughtful hum, she lifted two bottles off of the shelf, bringing them to hover by her muzzle as steam started to rise from the tub and fog the mirror.
“Luxurious, no doubt,” she said to herself, eyeing the rose petal scented bubble bath. “And I have been meaning to try it, but perhaps tonight is a night for comfort and relaxation?”
She popped the cap of the second bottle and held it before her nose. The gentle fragrances of lilac and vanilla graced her nostrils, quieting her musings. The unopened bottle floated back to the shelf while she poured a healthy amount of the second into her filling bath.
Yes, she decided. Tonight is a night for comfort.
Her favourite candles, the newest book in a series quickly becoming a personal, if guilty, favourite, a lovely bubble bath in the works, and her most comfortable robe to keep her warm while she waited—the beginnings of a perfect evening to herself. Though she loved Sweetie Belle with all of her heart, rarely was she so glad to send her on her way to a sleepover at Sweet Apple Acres as she was tonight.
A scant hour had passed since she finished the last in a long line of orders and closed up. How ponies like Applejack and Rainbow Dash stood to be on their hooves all day long baffled her as her own yearned to sink deep into the hot bath and lose herself to the whimsical, simple, but charming words of Rose Quartz.
The only thing missing, in fact, was a window grand enough to let the golden light of the sunset pour into the bathroom.
With a yearning sigh, she shook her head and shut off the water. Steam slowly rose from the water’s surface, bringing with it the combined scents of lilac and vanilla that mingled and danced with the lighter lavender that floated above them.
Rolling up her robe, she dipped the tip of her hoof in the bath.
Oh, yes. It was ready and so was she.
Just as she undid the sash around her robe, the jingle of a bell caught her ear. Right after, the bell jingled again and she heard her front door close.
Blinking, with one hoof outstretched to her bath, she strained her ears, listening for the rapid clickety-clackety of a foal’s hooves running up the stairs. When it didn’t come, she allowed herself a slight frown and turned to the door.
“Sweetie Belle, is that you?” she called, cocking her head to the side. “Did you forget something?”
Second after second ticked away. Her candles burned, her bath bubbled, but nopony answered. She wrinkled her brow, mouth twitching as her frown threatened to sour into a scowl. Sweetie and her friends knew better than to disturb her during her baths. Just as they needed their ‘Crusading Time,’ she needed her ‘Rarity Time.’
“Sweetie Belle?”
Again, no answer. Her brows knit. If not Sweetie, then who? Business hours were over, the market had closed, and she locked the door before retiring to her robe—didn’t she?
For that matter, she did remember to turn the sign to ‘CLOSED.’ That much she was certain of. Unless, of course, in her haste to send Sweetie on her way and retreat to the sanctity of her bubble bath, she forgot to do that, too.
She heard the muffled sound of hooves downstairs. An equally muffled but somewhat familiar voice called, “Anypony home?”
Somepony was in her home. Most likely a customer at that.
Rarity’s ears swiveled forward as she bit her lip. She could almost hear Prima Donna calling to her from the pages, lulling her to her bath in her entrancing, Prench-accented voice. The candles burning whispered to her, pleading with her to turn away. Surely, the customer would come back another day. Any sane pony would know it was well after usual business hours.
Lilac and vanilla tickled her nose, leading her back around. The bathwater bubbled, inviting her like no lover ever had.
One hoof made it to the lip of the tub before the voice called out again from downstairs, “Hello?”
Rarity sighed.
She lowered her hoof and, though it pained her to do so, turned away from her bathtub and started for the bathroom door. “It will only take a minute, Rarity,” she told herself as her horn glowed a bright blue, snuffing out her candles. A little more hot water would remedy a lukewarm bath, and if Prima Donna could wait for Fencer to sweep her off of her hooves, then she could most certainly wait a scant few minutes.
Dragging her hooves across the floor, she slipped out of her bathroom and shuffled to the stairs. She paused only long enough to compose herself and tighten her bathrobe. Not the most appropriate attire for servicing customers, but that wasn’t the idea now, was it? If the sun nearing the horizon and the lack of other ponies weren’t clues enough, then the robe would do the trick.
Head held high, tail perked, and her regular dazzling smile in place, Rarity cantered down the stairs.
“Welcome to Carousel Boutique,” she sing-songed, “where everything is chique, unique, and magnifique! Your business is valued, but I’m afraid that we are—Spitfire?”
Standing there, bathed in the glow of the setting sun, was the Captain of the Wonderbolts. She stood in front of a mannequin, about to poke it with her hoof, when her ear flicked at Rarity’s voice. Spitfire’s eyes, a molten amber, found her halfway down the stairs. Feathers as golden as the sun’s waning light ruffled against the brown flight jacket she wore and the corner of her mouth quirked upwards. “Hey,” she said, running her hoof through her mane of wildfire. “It’s Rarity, right?”
Only stunned for a second, Rarity blinked and closed her mouth. “Indeed.” Her grace and poise intact, she pranced the rest of the way down the stairs and offered Spitfire a polite smile from the newel post. “Not that it isn’t a pleasure to see you again, Captain Spitfire, but I do hope there isn’t an emergency?”
The flight goggles around Spitfire’s neck bounced against her chest as she chuckled. “Nah, nothing like that. Sorry for dropping by so late. Flight practice ran a little longer than usual today and I couldn’t make it to Ponyville until just now.” Her eyes wandered over Rarity’s form, concealed and padded by the bathrobe wrapped around her. For a second, they seemed to light up, sending the tiniest of tingles down the unicorn’s back. A note of amusement crept into her voice as she said, “I hope I’m not disturbing you. That’s a cute robe, though.”
Rarity’s ears perked up, though she kept her smile controlled and smooth. It may have been her imagination, but there was a certain underlying tone to the Wonderbolt’s words, a tone she imagined when Fencer was alone with Prima Donna. “A lady is always poised and never disturbed, darling.” Curious, she fluttered her eyes and brought the muff of her robe to her cheek. “And thank you. It is my favourite robe. I’m glad you like it.”
A little grin and wiggle of ears was Spitfire’s reply. “It looks good on you.” Tilting her head to the side, she started to turn to the door. “If it’s a bad time now, I can always come back tomorrow. You’re closed, aren’t you?”
“Technically, yes.” Wreathing her horn in her magic, Rarity turned the sign in her window to ‘CLOSED’ and flicked the latch. “I am indeed closed for regular business.”
Mischief and amusement, a familiar combination seen many a time in Rainbow Dash, danced bare behind Spitfire’s eyes. “Technically?”
“Yes, technically. I would normally apologize and explain how I forgot to turn the sign and lock the door before retiring upstairs.” Each step was measured and precise as she walked around the room. “But I’d be happy to make an exception in your case.”
“That’s awfully nice of you, but I really don’t mind.” With a flutter of her wings, Spitfire was in the air. A few back-flaps later, she was hovering near the door. “I can come back tomorrow.”
“Nonsense, Captain!” Rarity cantered ahead, coming between Spitfire and the door. Another bath could be drawn and more candles could be lit, but it was hardly every day that a Wonderbolt flew in through one’s door. Well, one that wasn't Rainbow Dash. Business was business, after all, and good rapport with such a high-profile client sadly outweighed her own relaxation. “I’d consider it a favour for all of the guidance you’ve given Rainbow Dash. A friend of a friend is my friend, after all!”
“Well ...” Though she made a show of drifting in lazy circles around her, Spitfire landed, flourishing her feathers as she drew her wings back to her sides. “If you insist, then who am I to say no? I have to ask, though,” again, her eyes flashed, something Rarity imagined would leave poor, delighted fan-fillies giggly and flustered, “do you tend to all of your clients in a bathrobe? Not that I’m complaining.”
The tip of Rarity’s ear twitched, her smile otherwise intact. From experience and many afternoon teas with Fluttershy, she knew wings played a rather large role in pegasus courtship. “A one-time occurrence, I guarantee you,” she said, her voice calm and level as she cantered towards the stairs. A glance over her shoulder showed the Wonderbolt watching her, one eyebrow raised. “You simply caught me as I was turning in for the night.”
“A mare like you with no night plans? That’s almost criminal.”
Aha.
Rarity knew Spitfire’s type well. Fire underlay everything they did, seeking to draw those around them closer like a moth to the flame. The hint of a challenge and an unruffled visage catered well to her sort—a challenge to draw them out, meeting fire with all of the calm clarity of crystal.
And, should a pony wish to return the favour, all they needed to know was how to direct that fire and fan its flames.
Luckily, Rarity considered herself a self-taught expert in both of those regards.
“Be that as it may, we’re getting ahead of ourselves here.” Without breaking her stride, she untied the sash around her barrel. Her back to Spitfire, she stepped out of her bathrobe. Business and clients first, relaxation and fun later. Though she missed her robe’s warmth as the cooler night air met her fur, she tossed her curled, purple mane over her shoulder and turned back to the pegasus.
The tips of Spitfire’s primaries ruffled, twitching in time with her fiery tail. She caught her gaze travelling down the length of her neck and the soft, supple curves of her snowy white coat. If she intended to hide it, then she did so poorly.
Interesting. At first, Rarity hummed as Spitfire met her gaze, smirking all the while. Whether it was in silent challenge or invitation, though, she could not be sure.
Very interesting. Fixing her smile back in place, Rarity turned her head to the side, looking to the back room. “Now, Captain,” she said, lowering her robe over the newel post while plucking her red-rimmed glasses from her designer’s desk in the back. As they settled on the bridge of her snout, she faced her would-be client. “How can I help you tonight?”
To an inexperienced eye, nothing would be different about Spitfire as she walked across the room. Rarity, however, knew much, much better. From the errant flicker of her feathers, to the lazy smirk on her face, to the low embers lighting her eyes, there was everything different about the Wonderbolt.
“Alright, down to business.” The smirk waned as Spitfire’s eyes slid to the side, looking from one mannequin to the next. “Long story short, I need a dress.”
To that, Rarity arched a brow. “A dress? Whatever for?”
The smirk came back, cracking along Spitfire’s expressing with a keen edge. “To wear. Thought I’d come and get one from the talk of the town in Canterlot.”
“Not that I’m not flattered, Captain—”
“Come on, Rarity,” Spitfire said, cutting her off with a wink and flick of her tail. “Friend of a friend is your friend, right? Call me Spitfire.”
Rarity paused, closing her mouth. Then, easing her smile back into place, she nodded. “Very well, Spitfire. As I was saying, while it is flattering to have somepony such as yourself seek me out, I must ask—” Peering over her glasses, she tilted her head to the side. Any further, and the setting sun would have lit up her eyes. “—why come all the way to Ponyville? I have a boutique in Canterlot. Surely that would have been more convenient?”
Spitfire rolled her shoulders in a shrug, poking at the nearest mannequin with the tip of her wing. A simple, but elegant faded red dress was fitted over it, accented by the bright red sash around the waist and matching ruby-encrusted choker. “It would’ve, but Wonderbolts don’t go for convenience. We go for the best.”
A slender eyebrow rose over Rarity’s forehead. “Meaning what, exactly?”
“Meaning I need a dress, so I’m going to get the best. I could just pick something up off of the rack in Canterlot or Manehattan, but that’s not quite my style.” With a catlike grin, Spitfire ran her feathers down the mannequin’s chest, following the neckline of the dress down. “If I’m getting a dress, I’m getting one from the best designer around and right from the source.”
Rarity let loose a tittering laugh, tilting her head the rest of the way to let the sun illuminate her eyes. Oh, if she had a bit for every time somepony compared them to the loveliest of sapphires on Hearts and Hooves Day, she would have her next outlet in Fillydelphia by now! “Well,” she said, smiling her brightest, “consider me flattered! A dress it is. What’s the occasion?”
“Some shindig coming up.” Again, Spitfire shrugged, her tone inflected with dry, mirthless humour. “Not my favourite thing to do, but the Wonderbolts have to keep up appearances. Since I’m the Captain, that usually means I have to keep up appearances. This time it’s a big ball in Canterlot.”
“A ball?” Rarity’s ear flicked. An invitation, written in the finest calligraphy with golden filigree around the edges, came to mind. The invitation sat upstairs on her vanity, reminding her daily of the ball of balls in Canterlot high life coming up. How she squealed when it was delivered to her hooves was a memory both cherished and hidden away, lest she have to endure the snickering and teasing her friends so loved to subject her to.
Of course, there were many balls, even if it would be only fitting to have the Wonderbolt present at the ball of the year. Curiosity tickled at the back of her mind. What were the odds?
“Forgive my asking, but isn’t it customary for somepony of your station to dress in their officer’s uniform?” Rarity asked, holding her smile as she trotted to Spitfire’s side. She watched the other mare out of the corner of her eye as they stood before the dress and slowly migrated to the next. “I recall you either in that or in your flight uniform at the last few Grand Galloping Galas.”
“Yeah, usually I can get away with one of those.” Spitfire’s brow creased as she lifted the hem of a lacy dress. Sighing, she withdrew her hoof and shook her head. “I’m not really one for this kind of getup, but it can’t be helped.”
“And why is that?”
A flicker of fire blazed behind Spitfire’s eyes as she cocked her head to the side and grinned. “I figured somepony as in the know as you would know.” Her wing wandered, stretching out and poking Rarity in the chest. “Appearing in uniform is all fine and good, unless you’re going to a masquerade ball.”
Despite herself, Rarity gasped. “Upper Crust and Jet Set’s Annual Masquerade Ball?”
“Yup.” Grin turning crooked, Spitfire chuckled. “Fleetfoot and Soarin bailed on me, so I’ll be all on my lonesome. Figured sticking out like a sore hoof wouldn’t do me any favours, so I need a dress.” Fluffing her feathers, she half-unfurled her wings. A swish of her tail caught Rarity’s eye before a ruffle of goldenrod feathers led her gaze back up along her form and figure to her eyes.
Subtle, but smooth.
“Think you can help me out?”
“What kind of designer would I be if I couldn’t make the Captain of the Wonderbolts look stunning in a crowd?” Smiling, Rarity turned and beckoned for Spitfire to follow. “Spitfire, by the time I’m finished, you will be the talk of the ball! A mysterious, gorgeous pegasus mare with a dress that cannot be compared! Now, follow me so I can take your measurements and get to work.”
The clip-clop of hooves behind her sounded before Spitfire’s raspy voice reached her ears. “Now you’re talking.”
As they wandered from the front viewing room to the fitting room in the back, Rarity reached out with her magic. From the cluster of scrap fabrics and utensils on her desk, her measuring tape snaked out towards her, wreathed in a cornflower blue. “If you’ll kindly remove your jacket and stand up on the stage there, we can begin.”
Many minutes and measurements later, Rarity walked in a slow circle around the little stage in the back room of Carousel Boutique. Her clipboard floated by her side, suspended in the light blue of her magic, and her measuring tape stretched from Spitfire’s hind hoof to her hindquarters. Lingering behind the pegasus’ tail, she hummed to herself in thought.
Spitfire had been a model client so far. Without hesitation, she slipped her jacket and goggles off—now hanging on a coat rack in the corner of the room—and hopped up on the stage. She stood still, moving not save for the gentle rise and fall of her chest and occasional fluff of her feathers as the measuring tape neared her coat. Though she never said anything, the times their gazes met spoke volumes.
A low, simmering heat warmed Spitfire’s eyes. Intrigue and, if she was not mistaken, want shone there, but Rarity trotted by all the same, jotting down measurements as she took them.
Curiouser and curiouser.
Tabloids loved to paint graphic and scandalous pictures of Equestria’s biggest celebrities, the Wonderbolts included. Many called it frivolous gossip, despite it being one of Rarity’s guiltiest and most delighted pleasures, but the pictures that made their headlines stood out on newspaper racks all the same. Spitfire herself appeared in many of them, but at Rainbow Dash’s assurances she dismissed them as the factless attempts at scandals that they were.
Now though, finding herself under Spitfire’s warm, inviting gaze, part of Rarity wondered how many of those ‘scandals’ held a facet of truth. Another part of her preened. What kind of pony wouldn’t be flattered at catching a Wonderbolt’s eye, and the Captain’s eye at that?
Flattering though it may be, there was business to attend to and a new bath to draw after. Prima Donna called to her, and she would not leave her waiting for longer than necessary.
Red-rimmed glasses perched on the end of her snout, she glanced down at Spitfire’s measurements. Very similar to Rainbow Dash’s, but that came as no surprise. From the rigorous training both engaged in in and out of the air, it was only natural that they shared a sleek, toned frame. Muscles, though less bulky than in some earth ponies but no less defined, would ripple under both mares’ coats as they beat their wings and stretched on the ground—Rarity had seen enough flight practices and shows to know that well.
With a slight frown, she looked up from her clipboard. Each custom dress she made was, by necessity, tailored to its commissioner. There was something beautiful about every pony, and her job was to find that something and spotlight it for the world to see. Whether it was how stars seemed to shine in Twilight Sparkle’s eyes and mane, the down-to-earth, country-esque allure in Applejack, or the effortless grace and elegance Fluttershy carried herself with, there was something meant to shine.
Spitfire, however, presented a new challenge. The fact that she cared a significant deal about her appearance showed in how she held herself atop the designer’s stage. Even when simply breathing, muscles shifted and flexed beneath her coat, from the base of her powerful wings to her flame-adorned flanks. Her coat shone with youth and energy, a glowing gold only matched by the light of the setting sun outside.
Then, of course, were her mane and tail. Spitfire indeed, Rarity thought, tapping her pencil to her chin as she looked over the pegasus’ body with a detailed eye. A tail of wildfire drew the passerby’s wandering gaze to her rump, while a matching mane led to her eyes. Either way, jaws would drop.
But then, knowing pegasi, mane, tail, eyes, and flanks were only part of the equation. The rest, she knew, lay in the wings. A pegasus’ wings were their pride and joy, from the shiest of fliers like Fluttershy to the bravest and boldest like Rainbow Dash.
And, even among pegasi, Spitfire had quite the set of wings. Strong and powerful, as a Wonderbolt’s should be, yet they looked soft to the touch. Somepony obviously put a good deal of time and care into their preening. Feathers moved and rustled ever-so-slightly with every breath, every bit as golden and glowing as her fur. They were the kind of wings a pony in one of Rarity’s many romance novels longed to be held in.
A flick on the tip of her snout drew her out of her musings. Blinking, she looked from the fluffy, fiery tail that swished from side to side to its owner’s smirking muzzle. “Pardon?”
“I asked if you were enjoying the view back there.” With a little shake of her hips, Spitfire wiggled her ears. The smoldering warmth that lit her eyes intensified, fixing Rarity with a stare of fire and heat. So much for subtlety, but there was something to be said for a direct approach. “A lot of ponies would pay a lot of money to get a good, long look like that.”
For a second, Rarity stared. Then, smiling easily, she shook her head and walked around the stage to Spitfire’s side. “Now, Spitfire, please. I am a professional above all else.” Lifting her glasses off of her muzzle, she reached for her magic, simultaneously floating her glasses to rest on her desk while bringing her measuring tape to drape around her neck. “I was simply looking for my muse, you see.”
“Right,” Spitfire said, grinning out of the side of her mouth. “So, professionally, your muse is somewhere between my flank and wings.” Her wings fluttered and unfurled, feathers fluffing as she arched a brow. “Not that I blame you, though. These bad boys have won an admirer or ten.”
Ducking out from under the shadow cast by Spitfire’s wing, Rarity let out a polite, tittering laugh. “My, my, my, how very impressive indeed. I’m sure you must be the envy of pegasi everywhere.” She lit her horn, sliding the tape off of her shoulders and tapping the pencil to her clipboard. “But now that you have them extended, please hold them still. I haven’t taken your wing measurements yet.”
“Convenient, but alright.” Spitfire’s tail flicked and she spread her wings to the fullest. As she did, she winked at Rarity. “Just mind the goods.”
“But of course! I am, as I said, a professional. I will be nothing if not discreet. Now, this won’t take a moment.” The measuring tape slid through the air, back towards Spitfire. “Besides, I’ve been told I have a gentle touch. I’ve worked with enough pegasus wings to know all the little tricks of the trade.”
There was a pause, barely long enough to take in a breath, before Spitfire said, “Sure.”
Ear flicking, Rarity gave pause at Spitfire’s tone. Bold, daring, brash, and forward were all qualities she had come to associate with the mare. Even in the face of a dragon or her own wrongdoings, her voice carried with it the authority and command of a leader.
The name ‘Spitfire’ conjured many things for Rarity, but wavering was not one of them.
Looking up from her clipboard, she watched the pegasus’ face. She remained stoic, expression unmoving as the measuring tape, wreathed in the glow of Rarity’s magic, extended from the base of Spitfire’s wing to the tip of her primaries. It hovered there, bobbing up and down ever-so-slightly in a bright blue aura.
When the edge of Rarity’s magical aura touched Spitfire’s wing, though, she saw it. Her feathers shuddered at the contact, a motion that travelled up the length of the wing. It was a brief, fleeting reaction, but one that caught her eye all the same. At the same time, the corner of her mouth twitched and the slightest wrinkles marred her muzzle.
Holding her clipboard up to her face, Rarity watched out of the corner of her eye as she lowered the measuring tape. Her magic brushed against Spitfire’s wing, gently weaving and flowing between her feathers as she kept the levitation spell powered. Another tremble, this time accompanied by a faint catching of the breath and the—dare she say—anxious twitch of the tail played out before her.
Rarity hid a small, intrigued smile behind her clipboard at the show. How very, very interesting.
“Well then,” Rarity said, whisking her measuring tape away with a small effort of will. She spared a second to jot down the measurement before sending the tape back to her desk. Once finished, she lifted her gaze and smiled. “I’d wager that we are all finished here for the evening.”
Spitfire cleared her throat and hopped off of the stage. “Right. Good.” Goldenrod feathers fluffed and a tail of wildfire swished as she walked over to her jacket and goggles. “Got everything you need?”
Though she raised her clipboard as if to skim its contents, Rarity kept her eyes flickering back up to Spitfire as she said, “I believe I do.” She watched the pegasus pull her jacket over her forelegs and slip her goggles around her neck with nary a glance back. How very ... different. “Is everything alright, Spitfire? I didn’t make you uncomfortable, did I?”
“No, no, all’s good.” Running a hoof through her mane, Spitfire turned around, a more familiar half-smirk on her face. “Wings are a bit sensitive, that’s all.”
“I understand,” Rarity said, nodding as she led the way back to the front room. “Rainbow Dash is much the same way. You’d be surprised how many pegasi fuss when I have to take their wing measurements.”
“Not sure that I would be. You know, being a pegasus and all.” A warmth, low and meant to entice, crept into Spitfire’s voice. Behind her, Rarity heard feathers ruffle. “Gotta say though, you were right. You do have a gentle touch with that magic of yours. Light and soft.” She didn’t need to look to see the glow of her newest client’s eyes. “Almost like you were caressing them.”
“I make a point to take care of my clients, Spitfire. Like I said, I’m no stranger to pegasi and their care for their wings.” Without so much as looking to meet her gaze, Rarity cantered across the showroom floor to the front door. Her curiosity got the better of her, though, and she gave the slightest swish of her tail.
Spitfire hummed, and a brief glance over her shoulder showed her eyes following the curled, royal purple locks of Rarity’s tail. Just as she thought. “True enough. I shouldn’t have doubted you.”
“A lady always comes through,” Rarity said, lighting her horn to turn the latch and push the door open. The sun had nearly set outside, leaving Ponyville in the last, fading hours of dusk. The golds and yellows of the sunset darkened to enchanting blues and alluring, soft purples—calming, last vestiges of the day that soothed ponies into the night. “Now, while it has been a pleasure to see you, I must bid you adieu and goodnight.”
“Right, right. Thanks for taking the time to help me out. I know you didn’t have to, and I won’t forget it. But,” Spitfire added, halting beside Rarity in front of the door. The loss of the sunset’s golden light did little to dim the glow of her coat as it shone in the soft light of dusk. “I have to ask. Did you end up finding your ‘muse?’”
As she spoke, she half-unfurled her wings, making no visible effort to hide how she showed off her feathers yet again. To that, Rarity allowed herself a second giggle of the night and a pleasant smile. “I will have to think on it, but I have a few ideas.”
Smirk turning wry, Spitfire stood her tallest, flexing the corded muscles in her chest and shoulders. “Think it’s where you were looking before?”
Rarity did her best not to let her gaze wander, instead looking to the world outside as she bounced her mane on her hoof. “Only time will tell, darling. We shall see where inspiration strikes.”
“That makes sense.” A light, thoughtful frown creased Spitfire’s brow. “So, uh ...”
“Bit for your thoughts?” Rarity turned on her hoof and cantered back towards the staircase and her bathrobe. Each step was again elegant and precise, her tail perked, and her chin held high. “Take your time, darling. I’m in no rush.”
The door didn’t close, but that didn’t surprise her. Sure enough, she felt Spitfire’s eyes on her, following her as she walked around the room.
How very, very curious.
Swallowing a little giggle, she carried on her ‘business,’ content to let the Wonderbolt watch her for a few moments longer. The most important part of any situation, after all, was to savour it. Idly, she plucked a pencil from the cabinet by the stairs and brought her clipboard to hover before her. Still, she felt Spitfire’s eyes roving over her and each little movement she made. From this distance, she almost felt the heat aflame within them, but focused on reviewing her notes and the measurements.
After her third skim down the page, an appropriate enough amount of time had passed. She took care to mask her little grin as she turned around. Placing her pencil behind her ear, she fluttered her eyes. “Was there anything else, Spitfire?”
Slowly, a smirk spread over Spitfire’s muzzle. A gleam entered her eye, equal parts predatory and playful. “Maybe,” she said. “It depends on the dress.”
“Oh.” Waving her hoof, Rarity set her clipboard down on the cabinet and trotted to Spitfire. “You’ll just have to be patient in that case.”
“Wonderbolts aren’t known for their patience, you know.”
“Well, you’ll just have to learn, then!” Rarity shook her head, tut-tutting as she stopped just a hoofstep away. “Good things come to those who wait, and I can all but guarantee satisfaction. Now, shoo!” Smiling, she nudged Spitfire’s shoulder with a push of her magic. “I have relaxation and work to get to, and I’m sure you have to be important somewhere else.”
Spitfire chuckled, brushing her shoulder where Rarity’s magic touched. “Patience, huh?”
“Indeed.” Making no effort to hurry, Rarity trotted around Spitfire to the door. “Come back on Wednesday next week. Your dress will be ready for fitting then.”
The twinkling of magic filled the room as the held the door was held open in a light, cornflower blue aura. With not but a hum to herself, Spitfire turned around, but lingered in the doorway. This time, Rarity watched as her glowing, molten amber eyes looked her up and down, from her slim shoulders down to her svelte, curvy hips.
Then, with a smirk, she walked out the door, flicking Rarity’s snout with the tip of her tail. “See you Wednesday.”
A flicker of feathers and beat of a wing later, she was gone. For a second, Rarity watched her figure disappear into the darkening sky. When she could no longer see the gold of her feathers or the fire of her tail, she stepped back and closed the door. She made for the stairs, closing the latch and lifting her bathrobe in the same force of magic.
With the warm, fuzzy confines of her bathrobe wrapping around her, she climbed the stairs and let out a small sigh. ‘Curious’ was not a strong enough word to describe that after-hours visit. ‘Intriguing’ came to mind, as did ‘unexpected.’ As she reached the second floor, bathroom and relaxation in sight, she traced her hoof around the upper newel post.
Another word came to mind, one that tickled at the back of her thoughts and sent a tingle down to the tips of her hooves.
Exciting.
Brazen, bold, and daring. How often had another pony looked at her quite that way? For a mare who lived in a world of rules and regulations, Spitfire seemed to be quite content with making her intentions clear.
And, if her intentions were Rarity, well ...
Rarity’s slight, catlike grin showed in her reflection as she stepped into her bathroom. Her tail swished behind her as she pulled the stopper from the tub, letting the now tepid water drain away. Humming as she picked up her book, she relit her candles and turned on the hot water, once again filling the room with warmth and the scent of lilac.
“What an interesting bridge that will be to cross,” she said to herself, opening her book to the first page. The memory of Spitfire’s wing trembling as her magic brushed along over it floated to the surface, and she couldn’t help a giggle.
What an interesting bridge, indeed.
Everyone reading this go and flood Carapace's userpage with "HAPPY BIRTHDAY" wishes. I know it was technically weeks ago, but it's the thought that counts, right?
Besides, we all know he'll love it. Go on and flood his wonderful userpage with loving comments! 
This story was written as a gift for him. It was originally mostly finished by the time his birthday came around, and I wanted to give him some time to savour it while I polished it up for posting. You can expect the next chapters to come in the coming weeks on a fairly regular schedule until this shorter story is complete.
Questions, comments, concerns—leave them all below! I'm happy to receive them.
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Very excited for this!
Cool. Very few writers I think capture Rarity's poise like you have here.
Glorious
Roasty toasty marshmallow. :3
8171283 Thank you! This story is completely written. No lagging chapters or anything like that, so you can expect all chapters to be posted in a timely fashion.
For reals, this time.
8171449 I'm very glad to hear that. This is my first time writing Rarity, so I was very nervous and fretted a fair bit over getting her characterization right. It's a huge relief to hear that I got at least some stuff right.
8171500 Happy Birthday, Carabutt.
8171506 And things are only just getting started~
Mmm, now that was a nice read. I'm curious what drove Spitfire to pursue Rarity, but I'm not complaining. That body language conversation was intense. One thing I that I thought was curious was that Rarity didn't go for the rose-scented bubble bath at the end. I would've thought that she would be ready for more than just relaxation after how excited she seemed by Spitfire's visit.
This would've been fine as a one-shot, but hey, if there are more chapters coming, I'm not about o complain!
These interactions are delightful, I am eager for more.
Very nice. Pony body language is rarely featured in stories and you did it very well. I'm going to keep an eye on this, methinks...
Wonderful use of body language and scene setting! I look forward to reading more!
Spitefire and Rarity eh? Oh this oughta be fuuuuuuuun
If Spitfire invites Rarity to the ball then both Rainbow and Spike will freak out.
8173597
I don't see how Spike even figures into it. Dashie would be happy for them.
8172000 Now, now, Rarity is a lady, and ladies are patient. Relax and let the pot simmer, so to speak, and wait for the big pay off at the end.
8172054 8172474 8173194 Thank you! I'm glad you're all enjoying it so far.
8173503 There's no better way to spend spare time than writing ships that don't exist.
8173597 8173873 Rainbow Dash would be happy for them on the condition she get to jump in every once in a while. It's really a win-win-win if she does.
8173938 I know right? But Rarity just does seem to attract the rough and rowdy type or the sweet and gentle type lol
This was a really good read, and I will be eager to read more.
I noticed no mention was made of paying for the dress, is it the case that money is no object, so it will cost as much as it costs and whatever the price it's fine?
Also, masked balls must be difficult in Equestria, if the intention is to be truly anonymous. Eye/mane/fur combinations can be very distinctive.
I guess pegasus wings are the closest thing ponies have to a nudity taboo, as they usually go around without clothes but wings are tucked away except when flying?
A relative of Pinkie's mum, perhaps?
Only thing I'd say was that the very second paragraph was a bit confusing for me, as you mentioned the candles floating into place, and the bathtub in the same sentence, which to me suggested the kind of candles that were floating in the water as they burned. I wondered if 'glided' or possibly 'hovered' might fit better there, to separate the act of being levitated through the air with magic to being buoyant on the surface of the bathwater?
8174130
I figure someone of, presumably, such a high celebrity status, money is no object, so there's no need to even ask about it! :D Following the whole "if you have to ask the price, you can't afford it" sort of lifestyle. haha
Juuuuuuuust wait on that one. ;D
8174159
That was my thinking, but I wondered if there'd be something about the stage at which Rarity should send an invoice, or the address for it, but thinking about it that would be better waiting until it's nearer completion if there's no doubt Spitfire's good for it.
8174130 Rose Quartz has no relation to Pinkie Pie. It's more of a small, tiny reference to a named writer character in the Quill and Blade universe. The stories there are favourites of mine, so I like to toss the odd nod to them every now and then.
For the dress, that's a detail I've noticed isn't discussed in canon mlp, so I didn't nitpick too much with setting a price or official agreement here. Everything seems to work out in the show, so everything will work out here. Odds are, Spitfire will receive an invoice after the initial fitting and pay it accordingly.
As for the masquerade part, I'm afraid you'll have to wait and see!
Lovely so far. Excited for more.
Interesting. Not a pairing I ever imagined seeing!
Rarity, I thought a lady didn't ogle? You were practically drooling.
Should be discreet - discrete refers to being separate and detached. Neither of which are words that could describe Rarity.
8865403
Huh. Son of a gun! You learn something new everyday. Thanks!