Rarity’s Relaxing Vacation

by Lime Contraption

1 The Designer, The Mechanic and The Thief

“Now, there is no need to make a fuss, Opal,” Rarity cooed, smiling warmly at the enraged features of her fluffy, white cat, “I will only be gone for a week and you know Fluttershy takes perfect care of you.”

Opal’s response was to lash out with her claws. The razor sharp weapons whipped through the air almost faster than Rarity could see. But the sudden pain and blood from her right foreleg was much easier to notice.

“Opal!” The designer hissed, “I’m going to ask Fluttershy about trimming your claws. And we are going to have a talk about your behaviour when I get back.”

The cat snorted and turned her back on Rarity.

“Carousel Boutique needs to be fumigated, Opal, you don’t want to keep living here with… thousands… of bugs in the walls,” Rarity shuddered, holding a fore-hoof to her lips in case she was about to gag at the thought, “So, while the uninvited house guests are being moved on, you have to stay with Fluttershy.”

Opal ignored the nearby scratching post and started to sharpen her claws on the edge of Rarity’s dresser, leaving shockingly deep gouges in the wood.

“I really don’t understand the fuss,” Rarity sighed, returning to packing her bags, “I know you like Fluttershy and spending a week away from the Boutique is the price we pay for a life without bugs everywhere.”

Rarity sighed again and shook her head. She’d have to ask Fluttershy about Opal’s behaviour. It was almost impossible to figure out when the cat had legitimate grievances she was trying to express, or when she was just being a violent, destructive monster for fun.

“And this is why I’ve chosen to spend the week alone at a spa resort,” Rarity said to herself as she closed the suitcase and looked out the window at the distant train station.

---

“I don’t get it,” the stallion said as he followed the older mare down the winding path through the jungle. “We’re just visiting the tinkerer, not summoning a demon from beyond Tartarus.”

“I’m just advising caution, Bluebell,” the mare rolled her eyes, “There’s a reason the tinkerer lives out in the middle of nowhere. There’s a reason nopony has ever seen her face and there’s a reason we don’t often call upon her!”

“Yes, she can’t afford to live in town because she barely charges for her services and the resort manager doesn’t like to spend a single bit more than he has to,” Bluebell shrugged.

They trotted in silence for a while as the mare awkwardly tugged at her uniform. The white shirt with a spa logo on the front was uncomfortably hot in the jungle, but they were on the clock, so the uniform stayed on.

“Do you have a clever answer for why her face is always hidden?” the mare asked, trying not to sound too bitter as she regarded her colleague who seemed unaffected by the heat.

“It’s impolite to speculate, Porter” the stallion responded with another shrug as the shadowy outline of a crude shack came into view.

“Just follow my lead and don’t speak out of turn,” Porter sighed, her pace slowing as they approached the lopsided structure of wood and metal built around the base of a tree, “And make sure none of the guests see her. We don’t want ponies freaking out.”

“Why would they freak out?”

The ground shook as an explosion filled the air and the shack door slammed open in a burst of flames. Bluebell and Porter scrambled back as a shadowed figure emerged from the fire with eyes glowing like the sun and dark tendrils of smoke curling away from its body.

The figure lunged forward, raising a fore-hoof and plunging a sphere of white-hot metal into a tank of rainwater.

Bluebell tumbled to the ground and the mare covered her eyes as steam swirled around them.

Peering into burning fog, the stallion shook his head, trying to focus on the creature moving through the mist. It was roughly the shape of a pony, but with broader shoulders and forelegs a little thicker than the rear.

As the steam faded, he could make out more details, including strange spikes that emerged from the figure’s back. Its whole body was covered in dark blue coveralls, shielding every inch of tail and coat. The head was wrapped in a dark material with no sign of mane or ears beneath the tight covering.

Lifting its head, dark goggles focused on the spherical object balanced on a raised fore-hoof, completely ignoring the two ponies staring at it.

“Tinkerer?” Porter stammered as the steam finally faded along with the last wisps of smoke rising from the shack’s interior. “Miss Indigo?”

The covered head turned slowly toward the sound. Glass lenses twisting as it focussed on the interlopers.

The vivid, yellow glow had disappeared, leaving pools of blackness with no sign of the eyes beyond. Looking up from where he’d stumbled, Bluebell wasn’t sure which was creepier.

As his breathing slowed and his heart stopped pounding against his ribs, the stallion focused on more details, unable to look away from the tinkerer.

The twisted spikes above her shoulders were the handles of a dozen tools strapped to her back. The sight of so many blades and heavy metal instruments conjured their own nightmares. And something about the shine of the metal seemed unlike any material he’d seen before.

“Yes?” Indigo the tinkerer spoke, not looking away from the object she held.

Her voice was gravely and distorted, like the sound made by a rusting instrument instead of a pony.

“The funicular is in need of repair,” porter explained, taking a step back as the tinkerer turned to lower the metal sphere to the ground. “Mister Day requests your assistance.”

“Funicular?” The stallion asked, pleased to be distracted by something other than the tinkerer.

“The tram elevator between the town and hotel,” the mare replied, taking a deep breath and trying to force her legs to stop shaking as the lenses covering Indigo’s eyes whirred, moving to focus on the sphere again.

“Yes, I need some time for the mechanism to stabilise and for my home to be… less full of smoke,” Indigo nodded. Closing the door to her shack, the tinkerer began to trot briskly along the winding trail through the jungle. “I will repair your funicular.”

Bluebell tilted his head to the side as his ears twitched. Indigo’s voice had come from the tinkerer’s throat, not her mouth.

A machine of some sort was strapped to her neck, with a metal grill at the front which vibrated as she spoke.

“Mister Day will be very appreciative,” Porter nodded, hurrying to catch up with Indigo before following her at a distance. “He would be even more appreciative if you… you know… didn’t spook any of the guests.”

“Spook?” Indigo repeated, her metallic voice echoing as she turned to stare at the mare with black, lifeless eyes, “I would never spook.”

---

Rarity gazed wearily at her sketchbook as the train rattled across Equestria. She was searching for inspiration, but after a lifetime living next to the Everfree forest she was finding the wilderness outside the window rather dull and familiar.

With a theatrical sigh, she looked at her latest sketch of ideas for Summer Sun Celebration decorations and shook her head. Creativity failed to strike, so she closed the book and slid it back into her luggage as she re-examined the spa brochure.

Until a decade ago Green Lake had been a humble village. But then the hot springs and ancient, pre-Equestrian ruins had been uncovered nearby. Now, after years of restoration and construction, the small town had become a tourist destination with ponies traveling from all over to experience the revitalising spring water or visit the exquisite ruins.

Rarity was predicting that pre-equestrian-inspired designs would be big next season, so her trip to the Green Lake resort was going to be a double victory. Firstly, she'd get to relax and unwind after a stressful first year of running her own boutique. And secondly, she could immerse herself in ancient architecture and design, getting more first-hoof experience of pre-Equestrian art than most other designers.

With a little luck, her second year as an independent professional was going to be an astronomical success!

It couldn't possibly be worse than the first year.

The first year currently felt like it was tattooed upon her soul and the red-raw itching would never heal.

No, the whole point of the trip was to avoid thinking about the first year. And to avoid being poisoned by insect repelling vapour while the boutique was fumigated.

Rarity was negotiating the curious problem of how to stop thinking about the last year when the train horn sounded and they began to decelerate. Grateful for the distraction, Rarity gathered the trade magazines and detective novels she'd scattered across the table and prepared to truly start her vacation.

---

The train station was rustic, even smaller than Ponyville's. Nothing more than a platform with benches and a ticket booth at one end. But the lack of buildings did allow a spectacular view of the village down the hill and the luxurious hotel and spa halfway up the steep slope.

Rarity frowned at the winding steps that led up the hill before she spotted the streetcar elevator that ferried guests between the edge of the small town and the resort above.

"That's a relief," she sighed, "I'd hate to carry my luggage all the way up that path.”

"Spa guest, ma'am?" A young pony in a white uniform asked, appearing out of nowhere in a manner that was either hyper efficient or very creepy.

"I am indeed," Rarity nodded, taking the reservation ticket from her saddlebag and holding it up for the spa employee to see.

"Thank you, Miss Cookie. I'm Bluebell and I'll be taking your bags up to the hotel," the blue stallion nodded, moving a cart toward the suitcases being unloaded from the train.

“Thank you, but I’m Rarity, Cookie is my mother," Rarity explained, "The reservation is in her name but she gifted it to me. I hope that won't be a problem."

"No problem," Bluebell smiled, "I'll correct the name as soon as possible to prevent further confusion."

"Thank you," Rarity smiled, floating a few bits to the bellhop as he finished loading her cases and moved to the next spa guest waiting for service.

Carrying just her saddlebags, Rarity crossed the short distance to the funicular and took a seat by the window to watch the scenery change as they climbed the hill. She was rewarded with a view of the lake, emerging from behind the buildings and stretching out across the end of the valley.

At that time of year, the name ‘Green Lake' was misleading as most of the surface was covered with colourful water flowers. The plants painted the lake in rainbow hews mixed with the vibrant sparkle of afternoon sun glistening amongst leaves and petals.

"This single moment is enough inspiration for a whole season," Rarity sighed, retrieving her notebooks and making quick sketches as her eyes never left the lake.

Rarity had filled several pages with designs and notes by the end of the short funicular journey. Taking a final look across the lake, she had to remind herself that she'd be able to experience the same beautiful view whenever she wished for the next week. Reluctantly turning away, she gathered her possessions and was the last pony off the carriage.

Lost in thought, she was contemplating different approaches to blending colours and representing the shape of flowers when she took the wrong path. Rarity strayed from the paved walkway and ended up along a staff-only route that passed by the funicular's engine room.

"The mechanism is repaired," a strange voice came from inside the small building, catching Rarity's attention. "But the gears are old. They were not new when installed here. Will need replacing in the next few years."

The sound was off, somehow unnatural, like a wax-cylinder recording or a music box crafted to mimic a pony's words. The unexpected noise made Rarity pause, her ears twitching, trying to unravel the audio mystery.

"I am well aware, thank you," the voice of an older stallion replied in crisp, clipped tones, "Wait here until the new guests have passed by."

"Yes, yes," the artificial voice said in neutral tones, "I will not spook guests. I prefer to be in here with the machinery anyway. Would prefer it more if I was alone."

"Spook?" Rarity whispered, wishing there was a window or open door to peek through to figure out what that detail referred to.

"Fine, I have to greet the new arrivals anyway," the stallion's voice replied, "Just make sure you're not seen if you want to get paid."

If there was a response from the strange voice, it was drowned out by the sound of hoof-steps on stone and the opening door.

"Oh, hello?" A silver-haired stallion with light grey fur looked startled as he emerged from the machine room to find Rarity ahead of him. It took a second for his expression to soften into a professional smile, "Are you a guest?"

"I am indeed," Rarity nodded, lifting her voucher for the stallion to see.

"Well then, welcome Miss Cookie, I'm Mister Day, the resort manager," The grey pony nodded his head, "I hope you have a wonderful stay with us. But I'm afraid to say this is a staff-only route. Between the machine room and the steep steps, it is far from the most scenic and pleasant path up to the spa. I'd be happy to trot with you back to the main route," he moved back toward the funicular station attempting to usher Rarity ahead of him in what was presumably intended as a polite gesture.

"Thank you, mister Day. And my name is Rarity. Cookie is my mother,” Rarity explained, following the stallion as he led her back to the funicular and around to a broader path that gently curved up to the hotel’s main entrance, “The reservation is in her name and she gifted it to me.”

“Of course,” Mister Day flashed his corporate smile which didn’t seem too different from the fashion industry smile. A smile Rarity had already learned to be wary around. “I’ll have the name corrected as soon as possible to prevent future confusion.”

“Wonderful,” Rarity nodded as they reached the grand, white doors at the front of the building.

“I’ll leave you to get settled, Miss rarity,” Day held the door open for her to enter the reception area, “And, once again, I hope you have a wonderful stay with us.”

“I’m sure I will,” Rarity replied, her own smile fading as soon as she was inside and the door closed on the manager.

Booking into the hotel and spa was simple enough. Rarity only had to listen to reassurances from two more staff members that they would correct her name on their records as soon as possible. But after nodding and smiling her thanks to the bellhop, she finally found herself alone in her room.

“A room with a view,” Rarity observed, discarding her saddlebags and trotting to the large window. “Not a view of the lake,” she admitted, looking out over the jungle stretching into the distance, “But a fairly nice view nonetheless.”

She wondered if the few campfires dotted across the greenery were archeological dig sites. She’d heard that academics were still searching for more pre-equestrian ruins in the area and visiting a dig would make excellent research.

As long as it wasn’t too messy.

Setting her saddlebags aside, rarity turned to the rest of her luggage which had been piled into a mighty tower in the corner of the room.

“I just have to unpack the essentials and then there should be time to enjoy my first spa treatment before an evening meal,” She said, idly flicking through the hotel’s brochure while her magic field opened her luggage and sorted through the contents.

---

The sun had been lowered and the moon was high in the sky as a dark shape moved up the outside of a tower not far from Green Lake. Metal shoes gripped silently to the stone as the cloaked figure reached the top.

Clinging to the old building, Rook manipulated the window with her lime green magical field.

The metal and glass were old and heavily reinforced with security spells. It forced Rook to concentrate on her magic to bypass the protections without setting off an alarm. With her eyes closed and her horn glowing, she tried to ignore the long drop below and the crumbling, poorly maintained stone wall that she was holding onto.

“Wait!” Rook hissed from beneath her hooded cloak, “Crumbling walls!”

Her magical field released the window and moved to the old stones beside it. With a combination of magic and brute strength, she forced one of the stones free from the wall.

“Should’ve thought of that sooner!” Rook rolled her eyes as she lowered the first stone and grabbed the next.

Three missing rocks made a big enough gap for Rook to squeeze through. Her cloak seemed to twist along with her, the material flowing across the stones and moving to avoid the sharper edges.

Stepping into the room at the top of the tower, Rook paused to stretch as her body decompressed after the tight squeeze. With a final shake of her shoulders, she straightened her cloak and turned her hooded face to examine the single room at the top of the tower.

“I know this is where you keep it,” Rook whispered, sniffing the air as she walked in a slow circle, studying every surface.

The room was a private study for the local lord with a desk, reading chair, bookshelves and a large supply of alcohol. The books were old but unspectacular and the booze wasn’t worth the effort of scaling the wall and breaking into the tower.

The bare mantlepiece above the fireplace drew her attention. Anyone sitting on the lone reading chair would be facing that fire. The rest of the old manor was stuffed with artworks, so why leave the most prominent space empty in the Lord’s study?

A smile flashed beneath the hood as Rook trotted over to the fireplace, inhaling more deeply with each step.

“Yes, there you are,” She reached out to press a polished stone set above the mantlepiece.

A soft click echoed from within the chimney, followed by a section of wall folding backward, revealing an illuminated display case holding a golden statue.

“Yes, yes, yes,” Rook hissed, dancing over to the opening and reaching inside to grab the statue.

Metal covered hooves reached out from beneath the dark fabric to caress the artwork.

“The idol of ShadowLight,” Rook said, lifting the statue and cradling it against her cheek, “He must love this trinket more than anything…”

Rook was staring into the ruby eyes of the gold statuette when the heavy thud of hoof-steps demanded her attention.

Ponies were coming up the spiral staircase beneath her. Lots of very big ponies from the sound of it.

She glanced at the trapdoor to the stairwell and debated covering the heavy wooden barrier with furniture and books. But even if she could move every available object, it wouldn’t stop a determined earth pony from smashing through, or a powerful unicorn from blasting in.

And the more time she waited, the more likely it was that a pegasus would block her only exit.

The statue disappeared inside Rook’s cloak as she dived for the hole in the wall. She’d barely squeezed through the narrow gap before the trapdoor slammed open and a trio of servants burst into the room.

Rook leaped into the darkness, feeling the familiar tingle of charging magic behind her. The dark cloak twisted as she fell, becoming ridged in time to slow her decent and turn the fall into a glide.

“So long, suckers!” Rook shouted as magic fields tried to grab at her but she was too far away and moving too fast to stop.

Gliding out of the manor gardens, Rook’s hooves skimmed the top of the stone wall before she landed in the stretch of jungle between her and Green Lake.

Shaking her shoulders, the cape lost its rigidity and she started to gallop. Head down, she watched the jungle floor while listening to the shouts and hoof-steps of distant ponies coming after her. There was no way they’d catch up with her in the dark undergrowth and if she had her timings correct, she’d be on the first train out of the valley before anypony in town knew what’d happened.

Her night vision was exceptionally good and she charged through the uneven jungle terrain without hinderance. Breathless, she emerged near the train station while the sound of her pursuers faded into silence.

“Perfect timing,” she smiled, spotting the lights of an approaching train further along the tracks.

Rook was climbing the steps to the platform when a lone pony stepped out from behind the ticket booth.

“Going somewhere, thief?” the sheriff asked, pushing back his hat and smiling.

Rook took a step back, but stopped when she heard the thud of hooves behind her. Looking around, she found five locals stepping out of the shadows with a pegasus she recognised from the manor staff.

“You have faster messengers than I expected,” Rook admitted, her cloak shifting in the breeze.

“Hand over the stolen statue,” The sheriff ordered, tilting back his hat further to make sure she noticed the glowing horn beneath.

Rook removed the golden prize from inside her cloak and held it up on her right fore-hoof. The statue was priceless, fairly delicate and was probably the reason nopony had risked grabbing her or using an offensive spell against her.

For a moment she debated using the statue as leverage to bargain her way out of town. But there were less risky ways of escaping the situation.

“One moment,” Rook said, raising the statue to her lips and licking the golden figure, “alright, I surrender.”

“Eww,” the sheriff frowned.

The hooded thief held the prize up for one of the unicorns to grab. Once the weight had lifted from her hoof, three ponies tackled her to the ground and the sheriff approached with hoof-cuffs and a magic blocker.

“There,” The sheriff nodded as the blocker was snapped into place over Rook’s horn. “If you try to cast a spell, it’ll hurt like Tartarus, understood?”

“Yeah,” Rook nodded as her forelegs were shackled, “it's not my first time wearing a blocker.”

“I’ll bet,” the sheriff said, dragging the thief to her hooves and shoving her in the direction of town.

“I'm innocent,” Rook said as the posse of locals followed them toward the sheriff’s office, “this is all just a big misunderstanding.”

“It’s a misunderstanding that you were caught red-hoofed stealing a priceless golden statue from Lord Green’s estate?” the Sheriff asked, rolling his eyes.

“Yes, I got lost looking for the train station and that statue must’ve fallen into one of my pockets as I was getting my bearings,” She explained, her eyes wide and her expression confused, “It happens all the time.”

“Did these purses and jewellery also fall into your pockets?” The sheriff asked, using his magic to open Rook’s cloak and retrieve some items from inside.

“See, that proves I’m innocent!” Rook nodded, “I told you this sort of thing happens all the time!”

The sheriff just shook his head as he led her inside the office and toward the cells in the back.

Comments

[Sunset-Shimmer]

Is there more?

[Lime Contraption]

11067215
There will be more chapters to this story. I just have to write them first 😀

[Sunset-Shimmer]

11068061
Ok.