Fourth Knight
“Vice-Principal?” Rarity peeked her head through the door to Luna's office, which had already been ajar, and then knocked on its inside for a little extra politeness. “Can we chat?”
Luna looked up from whatever papers she was working on. “Good morning, Rarity. How did you sleep last night?”
Rarity laughed, exactly once, and tapped at her cheek just under her eye. “Not superbly.” She hadn't even bothered to do most of her makeup this morning, and the bags were clearly visible to anyone who glanced her way. She fully entered into the room and closed the door. “Do you know, by chance, how long it was supposed to take for that Imagery Rehearsal process to work?”
“Hmm....” Luna reached for the Facing Your Nightmares book—which, Rarity noticed, had already been on her desk—and flipped it open to a bookmarked section. “The book isn't clear on a specific timeframe. As far as I can see, you keep rehearsing until you see results.”
“So what you're saying is that it could take weeks? Months?” Rarity slammed her hands down onto the room's other chair. “Years?”
Luna sighed. “Getting better isn't easy, Rarity. Trust me. It takes as long as it takes.”
Internally, Rarity screamed. Externally, she just managed to stop herself. “Thank you, Vice-Principal,” she said, forcing a cheery tone. “Have a lovely rest of your day.”
She turned tail and walked out the door. Once she was out, she found the nearest wall and slumped against it with a little, dramatic sigh.
It was the end of the day. It was also the first millisecond of free time Rarity had had all day.
(No it wasn't, said a little voice in her head. She'd just spent all her other milliseconds on getting homework done early, or brainstorming designs for dresses, or a dozen other productive ways to procrastinate.)
Regardless! The point was that she was here, now, and Twilight Sparkle was unloading her locker not ten paces away, happily unaware of her presence. And now all that Rarity had to do was change that, and....
“Give permission,” she reminded herself. It wasn't precisely asking for help, it was accepting the help that was being freely offered. Totally different.
She sucked in a breath, counted to seven, and released it. Then she walked forward, and knocked on Twilight's open locker door. “Yoo-hoo,” she said, in an amateurish approximation of a casual tone.
Twilight leaned back enough to look at her, and Rarity could see her sigh a little. “Oh, Rarity.”
“Yes, the bags, I know.” Rarity found her hand jittering, and forced it to stay still. “Twilight Sparkle, I have something to tell you.”
Twilight waited dutifully.
“I....” She took another breath. “I am hereby giving you permission.” A pause. “To do your... dream thing. For me.”
It took a few seconds, apparently, for the words to register. Once they did, Twilight's eyes lit up with stars. “Really! Oh, thank you, thank you! You won't regret it!” She leaned in to grab Rarity in a crushing hug.
“Darling, I'm the one who should be thanking you,” Rarity said.
“Thank you for letting yourself thank me! I won't let you down!” Then Twilight stiffened, still holding Rarity. She broke from the hug and scratched the back of her neck. “There's, uh, just one little thing I remembered just now.”
Rarity narrowed her eyes. “What little thing?”
“Hhhhhhhh... how about you come over and I just show you.”
“What do you mean, it's broken?”
They stood in Twilight's bedroom. The Helm lay on a desk in the corner, surrounded by and hooked up to various devices that seemed to be doing diagnostics, including Twilight's computer. “It doesn't look broken,” Rarity said, reaching out to tap it.
Twilight grabbed her wrist and pulled it away. “Okay, the visual aid isn't as useful as I’d hoped—but it really is broken, Rarity.” She sighed. “I did some tests this morning before school, just to pass the time, and... it's busted. I think it must have happened when you shoved me out of your dream two nights ago.”
“It looks fine!”
“What were you expecting? An exploded chunk of scrap, like some janky sci-fi movie prop?” Twilight slapped her own forehead. “Things can be broken without looking broken, Rarity.”
They stared at each other for a few more seconds, and then Rarity groaned and sat down. “So you can't help me.”
“No, no no no! Of course I can help you!” Twilight sat down beside her, her momentary exasperation forgotten. “I promise I can help you. But I gotta fix this, and I need you to do it.”
Rarity frowned at her, with an implied question behind her lips. Twilight answered it: “The connection between you and the Helm was really, really tenuous in the first place—that's why you couldn't even see who I was the first time. And when you pushed me away, there was a rebound effect that damaged the thaumic resistors, leading to a short-circuit between the....”
Rarity could feel her eyes glazing over, and thankfully Twilight noticed. “Look, to explain it I'd need to give you a crash course in technomancy, and neither of us have the time or energy for that—not if you want this thing fixed by tonight.”
“So what needs to happen?” Rarity asked, placing her hand on Twilight's.
“Besides just generally replacing the broken components? Well, like I said, the link between us was weak. So what we need to do is, you and I need to establish a stronger connection.”
They stared into each other's eyes for a moment. Then Twilight's ears caught up with Twilight's mouth, and she blushed furiously. “W-w-with the Helm. You and the Helm need a stronger connection,” she stammered, pulling her hand away from Rarity's and standing up.
Rarity pouted.
“So, like....” Twilight counted out on her fingers. “Some tissue samples, maybe some blood, brainwave readings, and analyzing your magic signature. And then I can feed all that into the Helm, and the connection with your dreams will be stable enough that it shouldn't backfire like that again. It shouldn't take... too long?”
That phrase—shouldn't take too long—grabbed Rarity's attention like an incoming missile on an army base's radar. “Twilight, dear?” she said, looking up at Twilight. “How long, exactly, is not too long?”
Twilight sighed. “Well, uh, you know... the rest of the day. You're going to have to stay here the rest of the day.”
Rarity scooted backward on the bed. “Bwa—Twilight—I don't have that kind of time!” she said, hands up, fingers splayed. “I need to get home, I have—I have commissions and keytar practice and homework and—”
“And I need these readings if you wanna get any sleep tonight!” Twilight slapped the desk. Not angrily, but she did seem frustrated. “So are you gonna stay here or not?”
Rarity sucked in a breath, held it, and closed her eyes.
She had, at least, gone back to get her keytar. But sacrifices, in the end, had to be made.
Rarity sat in Twilight's bedroom, trying to ignore Twilight's ministrations. Her focus was on her cellphone, and the visigoth on the other end.
“Look, I'm really flattered that you approached me with the commission. Really! It truly means a lot to me as an aspiring artist, but—” A torrent of abuse from the other end cut her off. “Well, I'm sorry, but I'm in a bit of a time crunch right now, so I have to decline.” Rarity kept her tone sweet, trying not to wince as Twilight rolled up her sleeve and wiped at her skin with rubbing alcohol on a cotton ball. “That being said, I wish you the best of luck with—”
Her efforts at politeness were rewarded with another spew of vitriol. Rarity gritted her teeth and turned off the customer service voice. “Well, maybe if you hadn't given me a doodle from a toddler, I might be more inclined to help you! And what's wrong with your handwriting? Did you write the captions during an earthquake?”
The commissioner didn't respond. Rarity kept going. “I will not be doing any more business with you, sir. Good day, and may heaven help the next artist upon whom you inflict yourself!”
With a vicious gesture, she ended the call and slammed her phone down. This was unfortunate, because Twilight had taken that moment to insert the needle. “Ouch!” Rarity yelped, flinching away and grabbing her shoulder. Twilight had nicked her skin in a place that was nowhere near the planned injection site. “Careful!”
“Don't move around so much, then!”
“I'm only clearing my schedule like you asked!”
They glared at each other. And then Rarity shook her head. “No, darling, I'm not upset at you, and I shouldn't have moved, and I apologize. But I am still very upset! Do you have a bandaid?”
Twilight reached into a nearby box of them, pulled one out, and got to work unwrapping it. “At that client? He sounded really rude.”
“That is part of it!” Rarity slammed her fist down on her own leg, and then willed herself to calm down. “But it's not all of it.”
“Really?” The bandaid was not open. Twilight was having trouble finding an edge, and her attempts became more frenetic.
“No, I suppose I'm mostly just... upset at myself.”
Twilight groaned, and her geode glowed, and the bandaid's wrapping paper ripped itself to shreds in a purple haze. “But you didn't do anything wrong,” Twilight said, as the bandaid floated itself toward Rarity's shoulder and attached itself. “That guy was just being a jerk. I'm pretty sure I saw him in your dream the other night, and he was a jerk there too.”
“It's not about him, Twilight. It's just....” Rarity held her breath as she tried to find the words. “I hate turning down work,” she finally said. “Anything. I hate feeling like there's something more I could be doing, some new achievement I could be striving for, that I'm not. It's like I'm... falling behind.”
Rarity laughed. “Gosh, that must sound silly, mustn't it? As if I'm not already doing enough? But it's like, like... like every moment I'm not doing something is a moment wasted. Even when I’m hanging out with the girls, it’s like an itch in my head, trying to get me back to work. Trying to have me make something newer, better, some achievement I can call my own.”
My own…. She pursed her lips. Was that why she’d so adamantly refused any help? Just because she was worried she’d have to put a second name on her achievements? Good gracious, she hoped that wasn’t it—
The train of thought was cut off when she felt a hand on her shoulder, covering up the bandage, and saw that Twilight had leaned closer. “I totally get it,” she said. “Not wanting to waste a second. Why do you think I'm always building stuff?”
Rarity smiled, and Twilight smiled back.
“Now hold still this time.” Like a switch being flipped, Twilight's demeanor turned professional, and the smile flickered off. She got another cotton ball, rubbed it in new alcohol, and got rubbing again, and Rarity tried not to shiver.
“Needle's coming again. Don't move this time.” Twilight positioned the needle at her shoulder, just above the injection site, and Rarity looked away. She wasn't exactly terrified of needles—that honor went to her little sister—but she didn't have to like them.
A moment later, there was a little pinching sensation, and a feeling of coldness. And then she felt the cold sensation go away, and felt another cotton ball where the pinch had been. “Is it done?” she said.
“Yes,” Twilight said, a hint of humor in her voice. Rarity looked over to see a syringe full of blood in one hand; the other was putting pressure on Rarity's cotton ball. “You were very brave.”
“Stop it,” Rarity said, snorting a little.
“Want a lollipop?” Twilight teased, her geode glowing again. A second bandaid flew from the box, unwrapped itself, and covered Rarity's wound as Twilight removed the cotton ball.
“Stahp, darling.”
“Well, we can't stop now.” Twilight placed the needle down in an appropriate receptacle, and then picked up another device, like a q-tip with a blue plastic shaft. “Now comes the cheek swab! Choo-choo!”
Rarity found herself laughing as Twilight leaned in, aiming the cheek swabber at her open mouth. “Stop it, stop iiiiit,” she whined, pushing out randomly with her hands. Her palms found Twilight's face, and she pressed.
“It's for your own good!” Twilight said, her voice muffled by Rarity's hands. She, in turn, fumbled blindly with the swabber. “And after this we can go get ice cream!”
Rarity shrieked out her giggles as the cheek swabber entered her mouth, rubbing along her gums in the most incredibly ticklish way. It was all she could do not to bite down on the device, or possibly on Twilight's fingers depending on what was in the way.
Finally it was done, despite Rarity's refusal to stop pushing Twilight's face. “All right,” Twilight said, finally pulling away. “We're done now! We're done. With the invasive stuff, anyway.”
Rarity pouted in the most performative way possible. “You had better have been serious about that ice cream.”
After a second or two, just long enough to stay in character for a bit, they both broke and started laughing in earnest. “Wow,” Twilight wheezed, leaning on the desk a little for support. “In retrospect, you probably could have swabbed your own mouth, but I knew the procedure, so....” She turned away. “I'll get started on this, and then we can do the brain wave analysis thing. That one's easy—it's just a headset, kinda like the Helm—but it takes a while.”
“Whatever you need, darling,” Rarity said, and then her laughter died away. She held out her hands, and turned them over to look at her fingernails, and then turned them back over to look at her palms. Her fingertips were stained purple.
She squinted at them for a moment, and then said, “Twilight, darling?”
“Mm?” Twilight was holding the syringe of Rarity's blood in her hand: in her magic, she had a half-dozen vials, each of which seemed to contain a different chemical liquid.
“Can you look over here for a moment?”
“In the middle of something right now, Rarity.” Twilight held the syringe out and floated each vial beneath it in turn, and squeezed out a droplet of blood into each. The chemicals started changing colors as they mingled with the blood.
“Twilight, seriously,” Rarity said, standing up and walking over, “just put that down for a moment and look at me.”
Twilight didn't. So Rarity reached out, and cupped her hand around Twilight's chin, and gently but firmly forced her head to turn the ninety degrees required for visual confirmation. Twilight's work slowed to a halt, the vials floating absently above the desk.
On Twilight's face, just below the eyes, she saw dark fingerprints. The kind that would only make sense if....
“It's nothing,” Twilight said, as Rarity raised her other hand. Slowly, with the lightest touch she could administer, she scraped one of her nails under Twilight's left eye, and removed a hefty amount of purple concealer—just like her fingertips had done before.
When it was gone, Rarity found herself crestfallen. “Twilight,” she said. “Oh, Twilight.”
“Don't worry about it.” Twilight flashed her a quick smile. But Rarity was worrying about it, because the circle around Twilight's eye was formidable, giving her a sunken appearance. If Rarity looked like she was part-raccoon, Twilight had to look like she was part-zombie.
“Darling,” Rarity said. The sadness in her voice had to make room for a competing emotion: annoyance. “So you're telling me that I'm the one having trouble sleeping?”
“What? No, no.” Twilight laughed, and the worst thing was, it sounded as genuine as the laugh they'd shared earlier. “This isn't, like, a stress thing like you have. This is just me being a dumb-dumb, and staying up late to make robot dogs and privacy invasion helmets and stuff. Nothing like your situation, don't worry.” She returned to her earlier work, spilling the last drop of blood into the last test tube.
“Nothing like my situation?” Rarity stared at the amount of concealer on her nail, before grabbing another cotton ball from Twilight's desk and wiping it off. “You've even been hiding it with makeup like me—I didn't even know you were any good at makeup. How did you get so good?” Her eyes widened a bit. “How long has this been going on?”
“Oh, I'm not that good at makeup.” Twilight flapped her hand airily. “I just have darker skin so it's easier to do. Seriously, you don't need to pretend I'm on the same level as you are, Rarity. You're—you're amazing, and I'm just....”
There was no speech for a few seconds. Rarity sat down upon the bed, and patted the space next to her, looking Twilight in the eye. After a few seconds, Twilight sighed. She set down the syringe, and the test tubes floated into a waiting rack. “Just what, dear?” Rarity said, with the distinct sense that the response wouldn't have anything to do with makeup.
Twilight sat down beside her, resting her chin on her hands and her elbows on her knees. “Just, you know. That you're always being so amazing, twenty four seven, and always making things and always dealing with everything, and you always look so, so cool. Not like Rainbow Dash cool, like unflappable. It feels like the world could be ending and you'd just, you'd just go out and deal with it like you always do, because you're amazing.”
She chuckled, looking Rarity's way without moving her head, and continued. “And then something, anything, happens to me and it feels like I'm just, like, just flailing. Like I'm constantly panicking just trying to deal with everyday life, and then I look over at you, and you're nailing it, Rarity. I wish I could do that.”
Rarity shook her head, a little rueful smile on her lips. “You can't possibly think I'm all that, after you've had a look in my head.” She tapped her temple for emphasis. “It's a bit of a mess up here, you'll recall.”
Twilight fully turned to look at her, and clasped her other hand in both of her own. “I think it more than ever now.”
Rarity held her gaze. Twilight blushed, at least as hard as she had before, but she didn't look away this time. They held the moment, drawing it out as long as possible.
And then Rarity tutted. “Now, Twilight, you mustn't say such things. I forbid it.”
Twilight's head tilted like a confused puppy's. “What? But I was just telling you you were—”
“Oh, on the subject of your wild accusations about my best qualities, I have no objections. After all, I am guilty as charged.” Rarity laughed softly to herself, but then narrowed her eyes. “However, you have said some deeply unkind things about a dear friend of mine, and I won't permit such slanderous talk in my company!”
“What?” Twilight flinched back. “But who was I... wait, you mean me?”
Now it was Rarity's turn, to hold one of Twilight's hands in two of her own. “I will admit, you can panic from time to time. I have seen you hyperventilate more than is probably usual. But that doesn't matter. What matters is that you're feeling nervous, and then you do it anyway. You save the day, just like the rest of us, and you pursue your ambitions at least as fervently as I do.”
“Stop,” Twilight said, and now she was bashful enough to look away. “It's not nearly as good as—”
“Not nearly as good? Twilight, look at me.” The command was sharp, and Twilight was forced to obey. “I make dresses. Very good dresses, yes, even exceptional dresses. You make devices that no one else could ever create, or even dream of. I don't think there's ever been anyone as clever—and as driven—as you in the history of the world!” Rarity leaned closer. “And when it comes to your future, the only uncertainty I have is which Stabel Prize you're going to win first.”
She squeezed Twilight's hand tighter. “So don't ever act like you're not amazing too. Understand me?”
Twilight smiled, and laughed a little in her throat. “Thanks, Rarity.” They leaned a little closer, and Rarity released Twilight's hand, but only so she could wrap the girl in a hug. She felt Twilight hugging her back, just as tightly. Her warmth was wonderful against Rarity's own.
“So!” Twilight said, not letting go. “I'm not rushing you, but we eventually need to stop hugging so I can put the brain wave scanner on you.”
Rarity pursed her lips in thought. “Mmmm... a few more seconds.” They didn’t move. “Maybe half a minute.”
Bedtime.
Rarity lay on the floor between Twilight's bed and the wall, in a sleeping bag that Twilight had pulled out for her. It wasn't quite as comfortable as her own bed at home, but Twilight had insisted that Rarity stay over with her to ensure a stable dream connection, just in case.
Whatever. Rarity was comfortable enough for one night, and it wasn't as if her bed at home would guarantee a good night's sleep in any event.
“Ready?” Twilight said, and Rarity looked up to see Twilight leaning over her from atop the bed. The Helm Mark II rested on her head, finally complete after hours of work (and the occasional half-hour break for food, or video games, or impromptu jam sessions with the keytar). “Just let me know when and I'll get the light.”
Rarity opened her mouth, about to say the word, and then stopped. “One second, dear.” She closed her eyes, and concentrated, and declared out loud: “I will have a good dream tonight. If I start having a bad dream, I will be able to have a much better dream instead.”
When she opened her eyes, Twilight was looking down in confusion. Rarity smiled. “Just covering all my bases, dear.” The Imagery Rehearsal stuff hadn't worked the previous night, but she might as well keep trying. It took as long as it took, right?
Twilight shrugged. “Well, you will. That's what this is for.” She tapped the Helm with a smile. “All right, ready?”
“Ready.” Rarity clapped twice, as if Twilight's light were sound-operated. “Sweet dreams, Twilight.”
Twilight nodded. “Sweet dreams.” Then she reached over and turned off her bedside lamp.
Rarity smiled as the light went off, and shimmied herself deeper into the sleeping bag. It had been a long time since she had had a sleepover.
With a dazzling smile and a wave of her arm, Rarity proudly welcomed all in attendance to the first ever Carousel Boutique… atop Mount Everest.
The press oohed and ahhed, and snapped many pictures. They were arrayed upon the mountain before her, and wearing heavy parkas, because it was really really cold. The Himalayas sprawled out beneath them, majestic and awe-inspiring and unobstructed. Rarity had the best view in the world: she could see all of Nepal from here.
She produced an ice axe, raised it above the ribbon that had frozen solid around the building, and—chop!—cut the ribbon. With that, she declared the boutique open, and demanded that everyone enter and shop to their hearts’—
Hang on.
Rarity blinked as the crowds rushed past her—staggering amounts of them, despite how empty the landscape had seemed before. She turned around and couldn't really parse what she was seeing: the boutique didn't look that large from the outside, but seemed to contain a space the size of a shopping mall, and it was full of customers. Customers browsing on the floors, walking on the walls, chatting on the ceilings....
I've been here before, she realized. Any moment now, someone is going to shout—
“Hey!” someone cried out.
And Rarity, feeling very rehearsed, asked what was the matter.
“You don't have any pants!”
She didn't bother to look down: her eyes remained firmly upon the inside of the boutique, even as space seemed to distort around her to bring her to the pants section. Before her eyes, all the goods there evaporated into nothing. “There's no pants for sale!” the voice continued, same as always. “How are we supposed to shop if there aren't any—”
And then came the sound she hadn't learned to expect, but had learned to hope for: the neighing of a horse, loud enough for every customer in the store to take notice.
Rarity looked out the front door and smiled. I'm in a dream. It wasn't a sudden realization, just the inevitable result of the pieces she'd been putting together. I'm in a nightmare, actually. The nightmare I always come back to. And I'm not scared.
Because Twilight is here. She rode in on her trusty, imaginary unicorn steed, cantering up the mountain in open defiance of the laws of physics. Twilight Sparkle, still in full plate armor—if the cold weather weren't fake, she'd probably be unable to move—reached the top and jumped off.
Rarity curtsied, and found herself in an elegant dress that was precisely suited to the gesture. “My dear knight,” she said, inclining her head.
“My lady,” Twilight said, trying to sound even a little serious. She wasn't succeeding very well. “Whatever seems to be the problem? Could it be a shortage of pants?”
Rarity gasped, hand over her mouth and everything. “Oh, it's terrible, darling, simply terrible! They say they can't shop without them!”
“Well, never fear!” Twilight walked back behind her horse to the carriage that had always been there, as long as Rarity didn't think about it too hard. “We have pants enough for everyone!”
And the pants burst from the carriage, and the customers were clothed in Rarity's best clothes, and they rejoiced, and threw her high into the sky in celebration, and Rarity found herself beaming all the while.
And then Twilight was there. Rarity reached out and opened Twilight's helm herself, and found that her loyal knight had a beaming smile to match her own. “Thank you so much,” Rarity said, pulling her in for a hug and closing her eyes. As she did, she felt Twilight's armor dissolve in her arms.
“Happy to help,” Twilight said. She pulled away from the hug, letting Rarity see that they were both back in their street clothes. “So I think we can confidently call this test of the Helm Mark II a success!”
“Hurrah!” Rarity lifted both arms in the air. The mountains were beautiful beneath her: snowcapped peaks and stark, barren ridges as far as the eye could see. She wondered, distantly, if the real Himalayas looked this gorgeous.
Well, that was a question for when she woke up. She smiled at Twilight again. “As you said, it was a perfect success. Thank you so much. And now I don't want to keep you from your own dreams, Twilight, so... you're free to go and sleep on your own.” She waved.
But Twilight stepped closer. “Wait. We're here, in your own lucid dream. You can do whatever you want right now. Isn't there anything you want us to do together?”
Rarity frowned. “Are you certain? I don't want to deprive you—”
Twilight was already shaking her head. “Trust me, Rarity. There is nothing in my dreams that I want to see more than this.”
So Rarity pursed her lips, and pondered, and then—snapped her fingers. “There is one thing that I've never been able to convince the girls to do,” she said, “when we're all together.” And she raised her foot, and tapped the heel against an invisible ballroom floor, three times.
Twilight jolted back, finding herself in a sparkling blue ballroom gown—backless, cinched tight around her waist, and shimmering like the sea—and then looked up to see Rarity tying her own bowtie. “Well, Miss Sparkle?” Rarity said, wearing a rather fetching tuxedo of her own design, with a complementary purple waistcoat beneath it. Beneath that was a tight white shirt that did award-worthy work at highlighting her figure.
Rarity bent forward in an exaggerated bow, and offered her hand. “If you would please me with this dance.”
She'd seen many a blush from Twilight over the past several days. This one trumped them all: she looked ready to combust. “I—I don't know how to dance!” she sputtered.
Rarity just smiled, and took her hands. “You do in my dreams.” She tapped her foot against the floor once more.
The waltz was slow, and simple, and played on only a piano. Rarity didn't know its name—she didn't know if it was even a real piece—but it was exactly what she had been thinking of. She held up Twilight's hand, guided the other to her waist before grabbing Twilight's own. Then, the two of them began to dance along the endless blue sky.
Twilight kept making little uncertain noises, like she was about to trip over her dress and faceplant, but Rarity didn't let her: her dress billowed out around her in defiance of gravity, remaining well clear of her feet. Besides, Rarity had a firm hold of her waist. Everything was okay.
Bit by bit, as they kept going, Twilight seemed to start believing it. The worry left her face, and she even started smiling, still following Rarity's lead as they danced. When Rarity let go of her waist to twirl her, Twilight responded enthusiastically, spinning at least two revolutions with a little peal of laughter. Good heavens, she was cute as a button—and Rarity knew some very cute buttons.
Rarity felt her face grow warm, and knew her physical body had to be smiling too. Of course, it was no more than she would do for her other friends—that was, if they would ever let her bring them to a ballroom; maybe Fluttershy would allow her, but the others wouldn't tolerate it. Just a friendly dance, between one friend and another... friend.
It didn't even sound convincing in her head. No, she realized, taking Twilight's waist again. I'm waltzing through the sky with Twilight, dressed in an outfit to complement hers, and we’re sharing a dream together. I'm not sure what this is, but 'friendship' doesn't quite fit the description.
Twilight leaned into her body, her head on Rarity's shoulder. “Thank you so much,” Twilight said. “This is wonderful, Rarity. I'm so lucky to get to experience this with you.”
Rarity snorted. “Oh, don't upsell me too much. Surely you can use that device to lucidly dream on your own? Why, I'd like to see what kind of dreams you can conjure up.”
“No, it's not....”
Twilight faltered, getting out of step with Rarity for a moment. “I can't do this,” Twilight said, and then something was wrong and Rarity wasn't sure what. “I can't do anything like this.”
Rarity looked around, trying to see what had changed, and couldn't see anything in particular. Maybe it was everything. Maybe it was the way the song didn't sound the same, or the sky didn't look the same, or Twilight didn't feel the same: she had been so warm and now she felt cold, so cold—
“You don't want to be inside my head,” Twilight said. Her smile was long gone. “You don't want to see that, Rarity. Just let me stay here, with you—”
She froze, and Rarity froze too. That was why the song didn't sound the same: on each beat, each second, there was a tick. A tick that reverberated through the universe. With each one, the sky grew a little darker, the endless blue transitioning to endless purple and heading toward endless black.
“I—” Twilight looked around frantically, and then looked down, and the color drained from her face. “Oh, no no no no no. Not here.”
“What?” Rarity said, looking down, and gasping. The invisible floor wasn't invisible anymore. She and Twilight stood at the center of an enormous clockface. She looked out, toward the horizon, and saw its massive hands, its massive numbers. 11:50, it read.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“I have to go,” Twilight said. With a burst of effort, and before Rarity could respond, she freed herself from Rarity's grip. She gave Rarity a miserable look, and then ran away toward the giant twelve.
Tick. Tick. Tick.
“Wait!” Rarity held out her hand. “Dear, what's going on?” The clock read 11:56 now, and the sky was almost black as pitch.
Tick.
“There's no time!” Twilight called back. “Just—just sleep well!”
Tick.
“Twilight!” Rarity ran after her, but it was like the air was congealing; she could hardly move. Twilight was well ahead of her, and fading fast into the darkness.
Tick.
“See you in the morning!” Twilight yelled, and with that—
Tic—
Rarity stood there, lungs heaving, hand outstretched. The clock was gone, just before it could strike twelve. The ticking had vanished. The skies were blue again.
Twilight was gone.
Consciousness returned slowly to Rarity, as if rising through an ocean of water toward distant sunlight. When she blinked her eyes open, her first emotion was confusion: what was this grey lump around her that didn't look like her bed? Why had her walls changed color? Why was her back kind of stiff?
And then the memories came back. Coming to Twilight's house; the Helm; arguing and laughing together, praising one another; dreaming a shared dream. A dance among the heavens.
The darkness. The clock. Twilight, turning tail and fleeing.
“Twilight.” Rarity bolted upright. “Twilight, darling, wake up!” She fought with her sleeping bag, struggling to get it unzipped; once she'd been freed, she jumped to her feet.
Twilight lay unconscious in her bed, tangled in her sheets, with the Helm still upon her head.
And all Rarity could see were the bags under her eyes, as if Twilight hadn't slept at all.
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Loved Rarity nailing Twilight in the fears perfectly. It was beautiful. Though some things Twilight is saying make me wonder if she isn’t running from her own nightmares.
YEP. And they break in and make an appearance and Twilight pulls a Cinderella. Very nice job.
Holy crap that shared dream was adorable.
Curious to see what's going on with Twilight.
Ohhhoho noooo, truly a dame under a Midnight curse :'D
oh yeah, now we're talkin' 👀
The instant the time flashed onscreen, I knew what was up and I love it. :D
wow this chapter is excellent. i loved the whole fic but wanted to highlight this chapter's good balance of cuteness, Problems, and drama
the whole scene of twilight getting tissue samples is SO sweet lol. making science cute... just rarilight things. "you probably could have swabbed your own mouth" so WHAT
going straight from that fluff into this well set up revelation that oh, twilight's being a hypocrite, is really good. it's so twilight to just be like "let your walls down ^_^ people love you! no what are you doing don't look at me NO" and just, distract from her own problems by helping others. i love the way you set it up as like, oh she's just focused on her projects! she's not avoiding anything! because it makes the reveal later in this chapter even better.
i like the silly absurdity of the recurring dream and how it's like, actually stressful for rarity in the moment, as all seemingly silly nightmares are. and it also lets them play it off in a fun way, too
i loooooove the drama of this bit so much. the reveal that twilight's partially visiting rarity's dreams to escape her own, the problems she's been hiding, and her stress as it overflows and contaminates rarity's dream... it's so fun. also the midnight motif owns ofc.