Roaring Twenties

by PapierSam

Part II

Rarity shuffles through her cart and thinks that one day the entire sky could fall in and swallow half the world and its contents, and there’d still be half-blank paper notices that could be summarised in a sentence to hand out.

She knocks on the wall of Soarin’s cubicle, and he takes off his earphones as he turns around. Its almost comforting to know he’s not the kind of heathen who works in silence.

“Hi, Rarity,” he says more with a nod than with words.

Rarity tries to match it by wordlessly handing the large envelope addressed to him, but she’s a proponent of dialogue-driven communication. “This is for you.”

He raises his brow just slightly, and it emphasises his wrinkles. “Is this a sales report or…?”

“I don’t know. I’m simply the messenger, darling.” And she winces internally, hard, because calling strangers darling at fifteen was cute and classy at eighteen, but accusable-of-harassment at twenty-something.

Thankfully Soarin’ doesn’t seem too harassed. “’Kay. Did you process the call tag I approved?”

Rarity blinks.

“For the warranty replacement of the contest winner? Fancy Pants says said I don’t need him to sign off because the contest falls under the Social Media area, so there shouldn’t be an issue.”

While Rarity loves a cup of office gossip, she’s not getting a good enough benefits package to be the subject of it. “I’m sorry, I don’t– I think you have the wrong person.” When Soarin makes a face, she hurriedly adds, “Oh, did you want me to send a message? I’m simply the messenger, haha, after all, darl…darling.”

He points at her with his thumb. “You are Rarity, right– ”

“Yes.”

“– Rarity Beloved– oh, yeah so– “

“No!” Although, she hopes she is, technically. To someone. Hopefully? “Just. Rarity.”

He leans into he palm. “Ooh…so you’re not Rarity from Sales? Hmm. Makes sense. You never seemed like a priss.”

She’s sure she has to a lot of people. They’ve told her as much. “Oh?”

“Yeah,” he laughs, then stands and holds his hand out. “Sorry about that! Thought you were her. Could we start again? I’m Soarin, head of Social Media.”

Rarity takes his hand. “Rarity – just Rarity. Head of General Administration Internship,” she adds cheekily, and it gets a chuckle from him.

“You know Just Rarity, I’m glad you corrected me when you did. We’ve been seeing some posts about you pop up lately, and I was about to confront Rarity B. about it. That would’ve been unfortunate.”

Rarity resists the urge to wince. “Posts?”

Soarin appears unperturbed enough to lean on his desk. “Yeah, a couple mentions, some comments – all nice things, of course. We’d delete anything if it got too bad…eventually, at least, maybe after an unplanned delay in no way correlating on the personnel and how fast they complete their tasks.”

While he’s a bit too willing to share his disinclination to others, he’s at least got more personality than the mugs Rarity’s been washing. And hey, who knows – maybe this Rarity B. is a real B. It wouldn’t be the worst Rarity out there.

“But that’s neither here nor there,” he trails off with a shrug. “Point is: I’ve heard good things about you. Keep up the good, erm…" he fans himself with the envelope Rarity so diligently handed to him, “…work.”

“Yes, well, do let me know if the comments of me continue – and I’ll look into it.” Or look it right in the green baby eyes.

“Sure.” Soarin nods. “Nice talking to you.”

“You as well,” Rarity says with a smile. As she waves and leaves, she it isn’t until she’s absently handing the next notice out – honestly, do these really need to be in envelopes? There’s a PA system, Rarity’s been called on it enough times to know – that she realises that how easy that was.

She spoke to someone at work that she wasn’t ordered to speak with, and it went well. And she’s left with the feeling that their on the precipice of being – not exactly friends, but comrades? Work pals. Networking, at the very least.

And she hardly had to try. The opportunity came to her, and the conversation came easily to her.

It’s late the next day, when she and Dash are mailing out the small ice cream/frozen yoghurt/anything really if you’re Pinkie Pie/sorbet machine for Pinkie’s birthday, that she convinces herself instead that nothing’s really changed and she overthought the whole moment.

---

“Uuuuugh.”

As she lets out the ungodly noise, Rarity shuts her door, and if it just so happens to be almost hit Sweetie’s face, well – accidents happen.

Muffled but still with that Sweetie Belle flair – translation: a pubescent squeak that’s no longer cute, hardly ever was – comes, “Why don’t you guys ever go out anywhere! You’re such hermits.”

“Leave us alone,” Rarity retorts. She can afford to sound prissy sometimes, she’s an older sister.

“But if Scootaloo knows Rainbow Dash is here that she’s never gonna shut up about it!”

Rarity rolls her eyes and sarcastically calls back, “I wonder how that feels.”

“You can hang out at my place dude,” Rainbow offers from the floor where she’s sprawled, literally doing nothing but making the situation worse.

“But that’s even worse!” Sweetie says, and Rarity wonders if that’s the only thing they’ll agree about all year. “’Cause then Scootaloo will like, scream and die right on your floor and we’ll never get to recording our video!”

Rarity once fancied herself a self-made vlogger or content creator. At some point, though, she realised that it would take the same path as all the things she’s ever wanted to do: a boring, scenic-of-only-dust stroll to death.

“Oh.” Rainbow offers oh-so helpfully. “Sorry, man. Just, like, tell her I – pfft, I dunno, fell asleep at school or somethin’.”

“Didn’t you graduate?”

Rainbow rolls over. “Man, I dunno! Did I? I can’t tell.”

There’s a pause before Sweetie’s receding mumble says, “Is that what they mean by don’t do drugs and stay in school?”

Rarity thinks she should say something, but sighs and walks towards Rainbow, then pokes her with a toe. “You are the worst role model for her. And Scootaloo for that matter.”

Rainbow turns over again so that her stomach is on the carpet. “Sis, that ain’t my job. And do you really wanna tell me about role models or do you wanna go hug your sister instead.”

“We have a healthy balance of hating each other’s guts and willingness to give each other our organs.” Some days, Rarity can’t tell if she would die for Sweetie or because of her. “That’s simply sisterhood for you, sis.”

“Eh.” Rainbow shrugs in a way that’s barely a movement of her shoulders. “You’d know better than meeeeeee.”

Rarity sits on the floor, leans against her bedframe, and goes back to what they were doing before Sweetie so rudely interrupted them: thinking of something to do.

It’s a predicament she finds herself in fairly often; she’s always busy with nothing to do, and she’s got nothing to do to keep her busy. There must be a psyche term for it, and if not maybe Rarity could coin it. Then her degree could finally amount to something.

“You wanna watch the house shopping channel?” Rainbow pipes lazily. She has her chin against the carpet and her phone held in front of her. “And then you could get all inspired for a whole minute and we rearrange your room again.”

“Why don’t we just look at houses to buy?” Rarity offers, mostly sarcastic, but she keeps it rolling. “Or even an apartment to rent. We could have our own little place and redesign it however we feel like.”

It would be nice. They could design the kitchen with a monthly theme, and they could play music as loud as they wanted, and Sweetie Belle could finally find something else to whine about because heaven knows she’s not going to act like she misses Rarity. Hey, they could even invite friends over–

“Yeah-heh.” Rainbow doesn’t even look her way and Rarity can still see that obnoxious grin she makes when she thinks she’s being funny. “We have so many options with your CEO salary. Like under a rock, or in the subway if you wanna move out of town – but that scenery will cost a bit more, y’know?”

Rarity stretches her foot out and nudges Rainbow’s form again. “Oh, you’re such a comedian, I can see why you make so much more money than I. At least I can still dream.” Sort of. Spontaneously, before she remembers she’s not a magical defender of the Earth anymore.

“On the side. When I’m not performing at your fashion show.”

“Honey, if I knew Victoria’s Secret I’d hardly share it with you.”

“Honey, if you knew any secret it wouldn’t be a secret for two seconds.”

“What can I say? I’m generous that way.”

“Pffft, that’s a funny way to say traitor.” Rainbow rolls in Rarity’s direction and lies on her back, chin peppered red. “Show some loyalty, man.”

This time, Rarity opts to use Rainbow as a foot stool, using the heel of one foot to poke her doughy stomach. “If we had a lease with both our names on it, I’d consider it.”

“That’s still sharing, man.”

“Oh, generosity, loyalty. They’re just the right and left shoe of a pair,” Rarity sighs.

Rainbow chuckles, and Rarity feels her feet move with it. “Dude, that ain’t profound. I worked at your old shoe place for a few months, and like, most people have one foot bigger than the other. And they’d always complain – like, if you want fitted shoes, maybe don’t come to half-bankrupt discount shoe store!”

Honestly, Rarity got Rainbow that job back then so they could talk about shoes and Rarity could get discounts without working much for it – and because Rainbow could use the help and would never ask for it.

But it mostly gave way to reason to complain, which really shouldn’t surprise Rarity; she’s got a full-time position and she still spends half of those hours nit-picking it online.

Rarity wants to bring up the house again because she’s imagining a shoe closet ordered by ascending heel height, but the doubt that’s no longer appeased by lingering at the back of her mind circles to the forefront: lack of money, lack of inspiration, and lack of anything in the town really except for an easy exit, apparently.

So instead she says, “Do you recall that coworker of yours, the one who got fired because of you?” and lets Rainbow rant about how wrong Rarity is, and how much more wrong Lightning Dust was for whatever else happened.

It’s a good distraction that leads way to them reminiscing bad coworkers and group members and everything in between. It even gives Rarity a chance to mention Soarin and the other Rarity, and it’s nice to finally talk about a good thing happening at work.

Rainbow ends up sleeping over that evening, much to Sweetie’s displeasure until Rarity caves and the three of them end up acting in whatever silly sketch Sweetie has planned.

A good distraction indeed.

---

It was such a silly proposition, really, that Rarity can’t get it off her mind.

To own a home of her own – that’s the end goal, isn’t it? The proof that she’s made it. Even in a hamlet where nothing changes except for the price of gas.

And its entirely unreasonable for her to be thinking of, truly. Rainbow hit the nail on the head: its expensive, and she’s hardly in the position to pay off her student debts for a degree she lost the passion for long ago, let alone a down payment.

Rarity doesn’t pretend to know much, but she does know a pipe dream when it dances in her mind; she’s entertained many of them over the years, and has gotten better at pulling the curtain on them.

So she goes about her days: carrying out meagre tasks at work with the odd conversation with Soarin or someone else, because that’s easy now; hitting the café with Rainbow Dash, and, if she’s feeling lively, window shopping at a mall they’ve memorised; trying to have more than very little patience for Sweetie’s new found interest in asking Rarity’s opinion of hair dye.

But it’s like there’s something for her mind to come home to; a quiet anticipation that gets her mind thinking. She could pick up a second job, she’s done it before. If she splits the cost of rent with Rainbow – and, hell, if Sweetie chooses a college in the south where prices are lower, they could all work something out…

Rarity’s felt this way before; she knows how it ends. But hope is just a love for chance – and, as far as love goes, well: Rarity’s always been a romantic, after all.

---

Rarity was just minding her own business. Why must the world be so adamant on doing her dirty like this?

“What the hell…” Rainbow mutters. She looks askance, then back at Rarity. “Play it again.”

They both laugh nervously as they lean over the table and share Rarity’s earphones. They can barely make it through the first twenty seconds without bursting into laughter.

“Yo, why’s my voice that high?” Rainbow squeaks – still not as pitchy as she was in their recording of Better Than Ever though.

“Oh my God,” Rarity mumbles for the tenth time that hour. She covers her face with her hands. “This is hardly even a song…”

“I can’t believe – oh man, you get a whole new accent when you sing.”

Rarity slams the table a few times. “Rainbow, that’s Applejack! I never got any leading lines back then!”

“What?” Rainbow plays the song back from the first verse again, much to Rarity’s dismay. “…oh, hey. Guess you didn’t. Oops. Should’a put AJ on back up.”

Rarity could handle Rainbow’s bitterness later. “How did this even happen? Why does this exist in the public domain.”

“Well y’know back when – geez, I swear I wrote better lyrics than this – back when the band was kicking off, I wanted to put our music on Spotify, and I went through that whole process of getting, like, a distributing team?” Rainbow shakes her head and sighs. “Man, I don’t know. I remember I submitted some of our demo recordings to be put on the app’s official playlists, but I guess when they say they’re ‘keeping it for future consideration’, they mean for frickin’ years.”

Rarity wishes her applications to all those magazine editorial positions magically came back to haunt her. “I might die of embarrassment.”

“I feel ya. Tha– can you stop playing that now?” Rarity changes it to whatever is next in the playlist; something not with her barely present adolescent voice in it. “Thanks. Man, that was even before Sunset joined.”

All Rarity can say is an eleventh, “Oh my God…”

She just wanted to enjoy cup of coffee in the company of someone else who wouldn’t actually talk to her if she asked as much. But the past had to catch up to them, there in their humble abode of a café.

Why can’t good surprises ever happen anymore?

Rainbow seems equally mortified, closing her hands over her nose and mouth. She only opens them when she starts to say, “You know what? Young me would’a been over the moon about this. Like, balls-to-the-wall happy.”

Honestly? Rarity would have too, even if she weren’t in the song; except she’s no longer the high school kid who sang that song, and can’t even properly reconcile it as the same person.

Sometimes – honestly? Every time – when something takes her back to autumn afterschool or Christmas parties at Pinkie’s or the magic that weaved through her blood and beckoned to her command, she resolves it down to a movie she watched and got a little too personally attached to.

“Like,” Rainbow continues after another few moments, “I obsessed over getting those songs out for months. But then the graduation came closer and everyone had other things on their minds, and I figured I’d pick this up later. But when no one else was really involved anymore…” she shrugs in place of ending the sentence.

Rarity could carry that thought into a tangent that goes down the beaten path of boredom and stops at the sign that shows the measly population of their town. But maybe, as ignominious as it was to find the works of her younger self at the mercy of the public, Rarity decides that, where hope is the Achille’s Heel of the hopeful, she’s a hopeless romantic.

“Well, your hard work paid off. Now you have something to put on you resume: PR Agent for an Indie band.” She waves jazz hands in front of her to sell the name.

Rainbow snorts out of her nose. “Bad-at-math rock band.”

“Barn-slash-garage rock.”

“Juicebox pop.”

“Whatever-Countless-Coloratura-is-but-better band.”

“Hah.” Rainbow leans back, crosses her arms, and smirks cocksure at Rarity. “I should’a given you the lead vocals. We could’ve been hardcore metal if I knew how much you screamed at Sweetie before.”

Rarity flips her hair, and lets it feel good to do so. “Oh honey, I suppose you missed out on a great thing.”

“Yeah.” She pauses; then, almost as an afterthought, adds, “But I came around in the end.”

Rarity gives her a smile that doesn’t do justice to the bittersweet feeling she’s feeling. “I’m glad you did. Otherwise I would’ve been equally in error.”

---

Some evenings, dinner at home is peaceful. Uneventful, except for the sheer inconsistency of their mother’s cooking; it simply can’t decide if it wants to be home style or hardly edible.

Other evenings, dinner is rambunctious and headache inducing, but fun all the same because Rarity and Sweetie Belle happen to recall they share some interests they’re both incredibly passionate about.

This evening, however, Rarity zones out when Sweetie Belle is complaining about the lack of choice of college in the town – been there, done that – and while passively thinking about work, remembers—

“Sweetie – are you still posting comments on my company’s Instagram page?”

There’s a flicker of an expression of a deer in the headlights, but it’s replaced by Sweetie crossing her arms. “Were you even listening to me? You should be helping me with this – some big sis you are.”

Its probably the most transparent way Rarity’s ever seen someone try to get out of trouble; seriously, maybe she should be teaching Sweetie a few things about how to be a teenager.

“Oh, I didn’t get any help when applying– ”

“You had Mom and Dad!” Sweetie accuses.

As their mother slips more beans on both their plates despite Sweetie’s horse whinny and Rarity’s polite dirty look, she says, “No dear…Rarity did all her applications herself. You know how she gets,” she adds in a low voice and a wink Rarity can fully hear.

Rarity opts to ignore that given there’s a more important subject at hand. “Sweetie Belle, stop avoiding the question. Are you posting on my company’s page?”

“I don’t even have Instagram!”

Before Rarity can even roll her eyes at the worst lie she’s ever heard, their father pipes up. “Posting what?”

“Nothing!”

He turns to their mother. “Honey, what are they talking about?”

“The Twitter, dear.”

“Oh. Sweetie pop, don’t Twitter about your sister.”

“I’m not!”

“Tell me the truth this instant!” Rarity snaps. She has a spoon full of green beans in her hand, she’s not afraid to use it – not because she’s a barbarian, but because, well, her mom could stand to learn to either cook them well or not at all.

“No!”

“Sweetie, dear,” their mother says calmly. “Listen to your sister.”

“But – “

“Sweetie.”

Under the glare of her mother, Sweetie makes a sour face as she blurts out, “Okay, fine, it is me! But not just me, Rainbow Dash is helping me!”

“What?” All that talk of loyalty just for this? “Why would she?”

“I, I can’t tell you – and you can’t tell her I told you, ‘kay?” Sweetie points an accusing finger at Rarity, which is painted with a suspiciously familiar nail polish. “She told me not to tell but you cheated so you can’t say anything, okay?!”

“Oh, like hell I won’t say anything,” Rarity says. She’s a woman of words who hardly has the chance to use them.

Sweetie’s hand lowers just a bit and her expression pinches. “Wait…does that mean you will or won’t?”

“I most definitely will, how could – “

“You can’t! Mom!”

“Rarity,” their mother says, looking at Rarity over the reading glasses she uses to miss the entire point of a conversation, “a promise is a promise.”

“But – “

“Rarity.”

There’s no winning in this house, Rarity decides as she glares at Sweetie’s smug face and continues with her dinner.

Their father looks up from the newspaper he keeps on his lap out of sight of their mother, who is obviously too busy getting democracy all wrong anyway. “Rarity, you need to set a good example for your sister. She looks up to you.”

“No I don’t I’m taller than her.”

“No she doesn’t she’s a grown te– you are not taller than me!”

If one thing doesn’t change, it’s the fact that Sweetie can ignite a fire in any situation. And while that’s usually literal, it also means that Rarity finds herself in another argument with her that their parents settle in the most mildly flippant way possible.

In the moment, it makes Rarity want to hit her head against the wall their father is measuring her height against. But at night, well after their mother says Sweetie standing on her toes counts as height because it’s still part of her body just like legs and spine, Rarity is almost happy in a way that makes her sad for reasons she can’t put a finger on except that at least she won’t have to miss this, too.

---

“Rarity!”

Rarity walks on without losing stride, pointedly ignoring whoever was calling.

“Rarity, over here!”

She continues to walk with the air of someone who has deniability if testified in court – or at work as to why she wouldn’t answer as soon as she stepped out of the building.

Though nothing seems more persistent than that which you hate, and Rarity is ready to stuff that hatred down and passively-aggressively tell off whoever is tapping on her shoulder.

When she turns around, however, that plan dissipates into surprise – then, worry. But pleasant surprise, mostly.

“Sunset? Twilight?”

“Hey!” Sunset says, pulling her hand back and smiling widely with defined cheekbones that Rarity has never noticed before. “Something on your mind, huh? You’re almost as zoned out as Twilight gets during exam time.”

Twilight waves, quick and short. “Hi! Oh, and surprise!”

“Surprise, indeed!” Rarity parrots and moves in to hug each of them. “And what a lovely surprise it is!”

“Yeah, we both had the week off and – “ Sunset tosses a quick look at Twilight “ – we kinda realised we really wanted to see you and the ol’ town again.”

“It was a bit peculiar,” Twilight says, and Rarity’s mind knows before she does that Twilight’s about to get into a Theorising Mood. “That we both missed you at the same time and thought to visit. But I believe it may be a combined factor of how long its been since we last met up, and how much we miss home, per say.”

“Or maybe magical mayhem is about to strike again,” Sunset remarks, then winks. “I’m going to go on and apologise ahead of time for that, just in case.”

It’s always hard to test who’s the smartest in the room when both Sunset and Twilight are there, Rarity thinks faintly.

“Well, whatever forces brought you here, I am glad for it.” And she truly is – but she can’t put a finger on why she still feels a bit uneasy.

They move the conversation as well as themselves along from there: Rarity offers to walk around the town and show them how little has changed, but Sunset suggests they sit somewhere – “Work’s a pain, you must be tired!”

So, in what Rarity feels is meeting both ends, she takes them to her and Dash’s favourite coffee shop.

“Drinks on me tonight, girls,” Rarity tells them as they sit at a table – its not the couple’s table by the window that she and Rainbow Dash always take, but it does offer the best view of the café.

They begin to protest, but Rarity won’t have it. They’re in her home, technically. And it’ll be nice to spend money on friends – not nice for her loans or wallet, but nice for her, and its been a while since she’s done things that’s nice just for her.

“Well, I guess you’ll have some extra cash after the payout from being on the cover of Times magazine soon,” Sunset says, nodding to Rarity.

Oh God, compliments. Rarity used to love these; now, she can’t remember what she’s supposed to do with them. “Oh, darling. Only after Twilight has won her Nobel Prize.”

Twilight perks up and fiddles with her glasses – a wont of hers that Rarity’s realising she’s missed more than any little gesture should be missed. “Oh! Well, maybe, but I’m not even working in my field yet. I can’t until I do my licensing exams and – erm…”

A dark look passes quickly over Twilight’s face. Sunset rubs her shoulder and looks at Rarity. “Long story – we’ll get into that later, though. But seriously, we were worried you’d be way busy with work and didn’t wanna bother you, but we messaged Sweetie Belle and she said you’re usually free on evenings.”

“She also complained about the same vein,” Twilight adds, “and says you need a boyfriend to go to who isn’t Rainbow Dash.”

At that, Rarity can’t help but burst out laughing, and the other two join in. She tries to defend herself – “It’s not like that, Sweetie needs to mind her own business, and why is she even concerned for my private life?” – but she can barely string the sentence together.

After at least a full minute, they collectively collect themselves and, with a lingering giggle, Rarity says, “I’m sure you would have gotten more accurate and less biased information had you messaged me.”

“That would’ve ruined the surprise.”

“And you hardly update any of your social media anymore,” Twilight mentions matter-of-factly. “So we both just thought you had your hands full – we wouldn’t want to be the bad sort of surprise.”

Most of the time Rarity forgets she has any accounts aside from the throwaways she and Rainbow Dash use to share increasingly downbeat posts, and she supposes it wouldn’t be helpful to mention it now.

Besides – “Girls, please. Seeing you will always be the best of surprises – like an early Spring, or a flash sale.”

“Ugh,” Sunset groans, and it’s her turn to grimace. “Don’t remind me. I worked retail for half a year up where I live now, and I am not going back.”

Twilight tilts her head. “Wait is this – Oh, corduroy guy?!”

“Yeah.”

“Oh? Do tell!” After all, Rarity is an expert in corduroy if there ever was.

Sunset sighs and launches into a story about bad management and worse customers, with Twilight adding some comments that leads Rarity to believe that she’s heard the story as many times as Sunset’s told it.

At some point, one of the servers comes up to them, which worries Rarity because this isn’t that bougie of a café – were they being too loud? Was it rude to sit without ordering your drinks? Did they realise that the internet usually gets busy when Rarity comes and they’re choosing now to confront her about it?

“The regular, Rarity?” asks the lady – girl, Rarity is almost sure. She just wears make up like a lady. “And is DJ coming too?”

“DJ?” Sunset asks, and Twilight mirrors her look of intrigue. “So there is a boyfriend?”

“It’s Rainbow Dash, DJ’s just a silly pet name I made…” Rarity tries to explain, but Sunset and Twilight squint and grin. “Not like that! Girls! There’s a story behind it!”

Except they don’t let Rarity explain herself without a lot of resistance, and the server isn’t helping when she uses phrases like, “always just the two of them” and, “sitting at the romantic table” and even, “have been dating for the past two years and we’ve made an Instagram account about you two, follow it at DJ and the Rare”.

So Rarity resorts to calling Rainbow Dash – three times, because no one picks up their phones and what even is a ringtone – and demanding she come over and set the record straight.

“What do you mean Sunset and Twi are visiting?”

“Um, just that,” Rarity says. “They’re visiting and where are you?”

“Tell her we’ve been texting her but she didn’t answer so we thought she was on those random vacation she takes sometimes,” Sunset whispers as she’s following Twilight to the counter to order drinks. But she winks in a way that reminds Rarity who the most popular girl in school used to be.

Rarity passes on Sunset’s message – using the word vacation and not “jokes you tell that no one understands is a gross exaggeration or downright sarcastic” – and Rainbow just says, “I’m not coming.”

“Why?”

“I’m busy.”

“Lies. You’re a hermit.”

There’s a pause. “A busy one.”

Maybe she’s feeling the same anxiety Rarity is – was, actually? Because whatever ball her nerves had tied themselves in is now untangled and, dare she say it lest she jinx it, excited.

She was probably worried things would go wrong as they tend to. And now Rarity’s glad Sunset and Twilight caught her point blank so she couldn’t back out like how Rainbow seems to be.

Well, Rarity is nothing if not persistent. “Rainbow Dash, stop scrolling, get your arse out of that ratty gaming chair and parked here or face my unbridled spite for the next three months.”

“Oh, like you’re gonna text me back after three days instead of two?”

“Rainbow.”

Another pause, in which Rarity can visualise the phrase hook line and sinker.

“…Fine. You at our café?”

“Always.”

When Rarity ends the call, she sits and waits for her friends to return and thinks that it was so very silly that both she and Rainbow Dash have such hesitance to hang out with the friends they missed so dearly.

Quite funny, that.

Quite funny still is when Rainbow marches through the door with her poor posture and finds the three of them almost too immediately, and she cackles and musses her hair and goes in first for the hug, as if she wasn’t an entire grump on the phone earlier.

“Took you long enough,” Sunset chuckles as she fist bumps Dash’s shoulder.

“You changed your hair!” Twilight blurts right after.

“What? Oh, this?” Rainbow pulls at a strand. “Nah, it changed itself. More blues an’ purples, and then these random yellow ones everywhere.”

“Huh. I have read that hair can make drastic changes over time on its own,” Twilight remarks, mostly to herself. She looks back up at Rainbow. “You wear it well!”

Rainbow blinks and makes a choking sound – Rarity chipperly adds, “I told you so!”, because she did tell her so – and, in place of a comment, grabs Twilight around the shoulders and nuggies her head.

By the time Rainbow gets her drink from a chattier than usual barista and sits with the rest, the sun is entirely gone with the short winter day.

Before the seasonal depression can get to her, Rarity claps her hands. “Let’s do something!”

“I just got my coffee.”

Rarity tsks. “I meant, let’s go out somewhere!”

“I just got here.”

With no less cheer, Rarity throws her arms out and happens to hit Rainbow in the process. “The scenery here must be getting a bit boresome for city girls such as yourself!”

“No,” Twilight sighs.

“Mhmm-what she said,” Sunset hums. Twilight turns to her, betrayed, and Sunset looks almost apologetic when she smiles and shrugs. “Sorry Twi, can’t lie here. You know I was born in the capital city of magic – I need excitement, it’s in my blood.”

Twilight leans forward into her hands. “Don’t I know it.”

Rarity’s always thought she herself was a city girl at heart, even if her body’s always been in the boonies.

“We can go bowling,” Rarity suggests. She looks to Rainbow Dash and ignores how she’s on her phone again. “There’ll be pizza and neon lights.”

Rainbow scrunches her nose. “Isn’t bowling closed on weekdays?”

“Oh, right.” Well, bowling is sweaty anyways. And the shoes – ugh.

“We can go to the mall,” Twilight says after a moment.

Rarity and her purse and internal coffee addiction are almost thankful when she has to say, “The mall closes at 6 now – seasonal hours. By the time we get there it’ll be nearly too late.”

“Oh.”

Rainbow starts drumming on the table as they sit in a pondering silence. There’s almost a collective hum of thinking, and maybe a tumbleweed floating by. Cliché? Yes. Untrue? Hardly.

Sunset snaps and bolts upright – and Rarity recognises that as her Good Idea stance. “Oh! It’s a little early, but remember that karaoke bar that opened up before we graduated? We’re old enough to go now!”

Rarity can’t tell if Twilight is excited or worried when holds her coffee cup and mutters, “Alcohol?”; she herself turns to Rainbow and half-asks, “Karaoke bar...?”

Rainbow mirrors her puzzlement. “Karaoke…you mean the one off of– ” she tips her head in no real direction “ –just by Sugarcube Corner?”

“Maybe…”

“Around, uh…”

It hits Rarity almost like a door. “Oh! Rainbow, they’re talking about the Automatic Doors joint.”

“OH! Automatic Doors Joint, yo! I remember that place.”

Sunset and Twilight now sit as the puzzled ones, so Rarity explains: “It was the only place here that had automatic doors – excluding accessibility buttons and such, of course, but.”

Sunset squints. “Really? Like, are you joking or seriously keeping tab?”

“Not hard to,” Rainbow gripes sarcastically.

Twilight looks at the café door and then back. “Huh. I suppose we never really noticed. But if it is true – wow. I didn’t realise not pushing every door could be a luxury.”

“I mean, I guess it was weird for me to have to move doors with my hands and not magic when I first got here, but I just assumed that was culture shock.” Sunset nods, almost impressed. Rarity is equally impressed at how effortlessly she can talk about the good old days of magic. “Like Twilight said: wow.”

Rainbow grins as she picks up her phone. “Yeah, it was a pretty big deal back then. Too bad it’s gone.”

“Yes, quite the tourist attraction. It closed due to lack of business,” Rarity clarifies, although she imagines it’s obvious; she couldn’t count the number of stores on her hands that came and went in that fashion.

“Aw, that’s too bad,” Sunset sighs, looking thoroughly disappointed – which is poignant given she’s thus far only shown almost emotions. “You’d think a place like that would get loads of people. No competition and all.”

Twilight doesn’t agree but busies herself with drinking from an empty cup.

“Well, I suppose. But on the other hand,” and Rarity feels much like Twilight when using that phrase, “most of the people old enough to go would’ve left by that time –”

“Flown the coop, yo.”

“– and the ones who stayed simply wouldn’t, enjoy it? They and their parents, people get stuck in their ways and just don’t find these, these…”

“New fangled things, yo.”

“…much fun, you know?”

Twilight and Sunset outwardly agree, but Rarity gets the feeling they just don’t quite understand. And for people of their calibre in intelligence, it’s a little worrying that it made perfect sense to Rarity and apparently Rainbow Dash.

Who in that dip of the conversation decides to ask, “Yo Twi, you still researching that nerd thing?”

It is at the same time the most vague, misdirected, awkward and unannounced question that Rarity has ever had the misfortune of being on either side of, but it leads Twilight to explain her Masters degree in detail, which leads to Rainbow Dash changing the topic to herself almost as fast.

It gets the tumbleweed rolling, at least. Rarity doesn’t realise how many stories she has to tell until she’s politely battling with the other three to share them, and they probably have the most exciting conversation the town has heard since Demon Sunset.

Which Rainbow Dash brings up, of course.

“First of all: I will cut you. Second: I was seriously ambitious though.”

“Were?” Twilight exclaims.

Rarity sagely adds, “I don’t believe ambitious is the word you’d want to use, darling.”

Sunset holds her hands out and almost spills her third coffee. “C’mon, you have to admit that it was at least avant-garde.”

Twilight tilts her head. “Well…”

With a handful of cookie, Rainbow points at Twilight. “Hey, you weren’t even there!”

“Well technically I was! Twilight Sparkle was present for that event, and I am Twilight Sparkle.” Twilight fires back. “So thereby the strong emotional connection– “

“Horse crap!”

“ –and given what we’ve experienced thus far– “

“Hey, Rarity, remember that dress we talked about earlier? Do you think we should get the measurements today?”

“Oh, at your leisure, dear. Is there a rush or?”

“ –entirely in the realm of possibility that consciousness is primary in the universe– “

“Horse. Crap!”

“Not much, Fluttershy’s engagement party isn’t for another few weeks but– “

“Engagement party – Rainbow Dash, shut up! – what party, Sunset?”

“Fluttershy’s engagement party,” Sunset says again, and it seems to be the only words in the entire town being spoken at that moment. “It’s in Spring, so we’ve got a while. I just don’t know if we have time today or if we’ll get a chance later.”

She’ll realise later that it’s a habit of hers to turn to Rainbow Dash, but right then it’s Rarity’s first instinct. “Engagement?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, I guess,” Rainbow says with so much disinterest it’s an emotion in itself. She picks up her phone idly with one hand and rolls cookie crumbs in the other. “Guess I forgot to tell you. She announced it, like, a few weeks ago. You were, uh, social media detoxing again or whatever.”

It ended up only being disconnecting from her main accounts for two weeks, but now all the bright photos of Fluttershy where there were almost none at all a few weeks prior start to make sense.

“Oh – oh my God, I didn’t even – she’ll think I ignored her!” Rarity cries with horror and searches her purse for her phone.

“Hey, we’ll tell her,” Sunset assures. Twilight nods beside her. “She’s coming over our way next week, so you guys can come visit!”

“I have work,” Rainbow mutters at the exact same time as Rarity thought it.

“Well – “

“Well, we – we can see if we can get a few days off?” Rarity offers. She’ll probably be able to, and she probably won’t do it, but she doesn’t have to be a bad sport about it. “I’d love to see her again. Oh, bless her soul.”

“Yeah. Remember the time she and I wore matching leather jackets? I saw the photos the other day…”

The conversation picks itself up but strolls tiredly into the night before Sunset and Twilight take a taxi – that took over twenty minutes to catch, to their exasperation and surprise – to the train station with promise of visiting again.

The town seems so much quieter as soon as the car rolls away. Rarity huffily has Rainbow Dash walk her home, and while she wants to feel happy and only a little sad that it's passed, she’s stuck on the tail end of that thought.

When she invites Rainbow in – “Darling, it’s late, and I can’t sleep after all that coffee, but maybe that’s the buyer’s remorse.” – Rainbow declines with as much class as a dropout before sulking away.

Honestly, Rarity feels like doing the same, but she wonders if its for entirely different reasons.

Author's Note:

"Automatic Doors Joint, yo!"

Next up: tomorrow.

Comments

[Therizzen]

Holy shit, that whole Oh my God I haven't seen them in so long maybe it'll be weird and I'm also kind of a big disappointment now so you know what maybe I shouldn't go is so relatable it's sad. Why you gotta do me like that, man?

Too bad Rainbow's so deep in her melancholia she can barely see past the surface.