Remembrance

by Jamie Wolf

Fates

The two mares backed away from the door. Rarity was blushing madly. Fashion nudged her with her shoulder.

“I think it’s fate, dear. I wouldn’t waste this opportunity if I were you.” She flashed a cheeky grin at Rarity which caused her blush to grow all the hotter.

“It—It’s just a coincidence.” She stammered out.

“Awfully convenient that the very dragon we were talking about barrels into my ass right when you were getting all hot and flustered, my dear. Speak of the devil and all that…” She began pacing away with Rarity close in tow.

“It’s not like that. I was just… remembering fondly. That’s all.”

The two mares were lucky that Spike had been drunk, stumbling, and not paying attention. He would have heard some very unladylike things they had been sharing. Specifically, about him. Specifically, about Rarity’s eyes for him since he had been in her house that one night.

“Very fondly. You sounded like a school filly with her first crush. Even writing him love letters you never sent! How charming.” The jet-black mare smiled at Rarity, her white teeth looking like a row of pearls set against the black of space.

“Well… I did send one.” Rarity squeaked. Fashion’s smile widened.

“You did? Which one dear? Was it the one about your professions of love and lustful cravings for the handsome drake? Or perhaps it was the one where you told him that ‘nopony got me quite like you’! Oh please Rarity, tell me it was that one!” Fashion was laughing now, and Rarity’s cheeks were flushed as she managed a polite smile.

“None of those, I’m afraid. No. I simply sent him one the day he left for Nor—” She tripped over her tongue again. “—that new land. I just told him that ‘when he was done adventuring, I should be the first to know’. We could celebrate his return like we did my success all those years ago.” She added wistfully. Fashion had stopped laughing and was listening to her friend with a smile.

“Awfully sweet Rarity. Trying to coerce him into a drunken night of splendor?” She teased. Rarity flushed in anger and embarrassment.

“No! I—I would never take advantage of anypony like that! Especially Spikey!”

“Calm yourself dear, I only tease. I know you want to see him snoring next to you again. Nothing wrong with that.” The older mare raised her hoof in defense.

Rarity shot her eyes down to the carpet and hung her head lower, her ears laying back in shame.

“Oh, my apologies for the outburst.” She muttered.

“I believe our handsome dragon had the right idea. Some sleep may do us well before we spend our energy on the first night. Say, breakfast tomorrow?” Fashion paused at Rarity’s door to let her friend consider. Before Rarity could answer in protest, Fashion held her chin up and cut her off. “Ah ah, I know. I will make sure we dine in the open so as not to miss your dashing friend.” She winked down to Rarity. Her nerves seemed to calm.

“That sounds delightful, Miss Fashion. Thank you again for the vacation. I’m more grateful than you know.” She apologetically said. Fashion dipped her head and pulled Rarity into a hug.

“No thanks necessary, my dear. I’m just glad I could make somepony’s life a little better.”

They hugged tightly before Fashion made her way down the hall into her own room. Rarity turned to crack open her door. The suite she stayed in was not as large as the V.I.P. room, but it was still high-end. A bathroom sat on her right with a tub and full counter, and a fridge and dining table to her left. Her bed sat against the left wall with a small T.V. on the opposite side. Her window shot out to look on the port deck of the liner where the shuffleboard and bingo seats were. What a thrilling view Rarity chuckled.

She made her way over to the small table and sat down, letting the tension of smiling and standing all day fade out from her. Rarity levitated a bottle of water over from the fridge and gulped down the cold soothes in her dry throat. She leaned forward, resting her head on folded hooves over the table. Spikey… She found her mind involuntarily drifting towards the purple and green dragon. He had become much taller, stronger, and sharper than she remembered. Then again, the last time she had seen him was almost six years ago. That was before he had taken a long tour of ambassador summits. She still remembered their conversations and last night together.

He had been smaller then, but still taller than his youthful frame. His lanky limbs were beginning to pack in the muscle, and his wings expanding into the strong appendages fit to carry a large creature. They had all met in Twilight’s old castle one last time as the map had called Spike on his list of destinations. Everypony had been there to reminisce and say their goodbyes. It was not until they had all gone to sleep that Rarity had been alone with Spike in the map room.

Rarity shivered in delight at the memory. Just the two of us.

They had sat across from each other; swapping more stories, fashion advice, workout routines, and foods Spike would miss for the next few years. Rarity had wanted to come with him, at least to Las Pegasus under the guise of checking her department lines there. Spike had insisted on traveling with as little as necessary for quick departures. It hurt Rarity a little, but she understood. After all, had she not been the same when setting out on her fashion line trip a year before that? Spike had insisted on coming to help, but Rarity denied. She almost missed his farewell because of that trip.

Rarity pushed herself up from the table and trotted to the bed. Her hooves made only soft plunking sounds against the thick carpet. Using her magic, she pulled back the zipper on her dress. Despite her love of fashion, she was glad to be out of the constricting fabric and clunky bracelets. The dress fell to the ground and Rarity lifted it into the closet hanger, letting all the wrinkles air themselves out after the long day. Her mane unraveled as she pulled on the braids to let the natural curl of her purple hair bounce back against her withers. It felt freeing as the taught feeling in her head released.

She crawled onto the bed and ducked underneath the comforter on top. Snuggling down into the soft mattress, she flicked the T.V. on to see if there were some program to distract her from the dragon down the hall. The channels flickered around as she fiddled with the remote. She settled on an interview with one of the psychologists from Canterlot. His name rolled across the bottom as the interviewer was popping some questions for him. Dr. Hermann Ebbinghorse.

“So, Dr. Ebbinghorse, in regard to memory, what really elicits these dramatic responses in someone? Like, why is it when I’m minding my own that I suddenly have these strong nostalgic feelings for someone or something when I’m doing my own thing?”

The bookish stallion adjusted his tie and spoke in a thick Germane accent.

“Memories… are complicated. But simple at the same time. We remember what is meaningful. Despite whatever else we spend our time studying, memorizing, or practicing, we will make room in our heads for what is meaningful to us. You are more likely to remember a poem about the sky if you find it fascinating than if you were to hear one about a forest. You will remember the classes you enjoy instead of the general credits you are forced to take. In that same instance, you are likely to remember a face if they leave an impression. A good friend laughing will stay in your memory instead of a stranger chuckling. It sounds like something everybody would know already, but the theory had not been explored before officially. When you see a glimpse of something that reminds you of a friend, you are already predisposed to expect to see them around.”

He rambled on about learning curves, list memorization, and other memory things. Rarity turned the volume down and settled back further into the pillows. She thought about that. She tried remembering other times she had just seen her friends drift off to sleep, but the only one that kept coming back was Spike on her couch almost eight years ago, or in the throne room six years. She kept thinking about that silly dragon. It was hard to view him as the fawning boy he had been all those years ago; now he was a tall, strong, and very handsome man. It sent Rarity shivering in both excitement and sadness. She had every opportunity to snag the dragon when he was younger. She knew he would have done anything for her. Now he was his own, and surely, he had his ripe picking of mares or dragons or whatever else he surrounded himself by. Rarity was sure she stood no chance.

“It has to be fate.” She whispered into the empty room illuminated by the T.V. “It has to be…”