Wes Andercolt

by GaPJaxie

Chapter 3

Rarity’s Recounting of What Happened Between Her and Spike the Dragon at Pie Pans Bar and Grill, in Downtown Ponywood, 1019, as Dramatized by Channel 7: Cultural Programming

They both walked into the bar. They each sat. Neither of them knew what to talk about, so Rarity decided to talk about Iron Will.

“—dim-witted, ignorant, bull-headed, moronic, goat-fucking son of a horses fat ass!” she snarled, pulling a cigarette out of her compact and lighting it with a spark off her horn. “Too old. Too old compared to what? The cows he has shoved under his desk?”

Spike nodded with a vague sort of sympathy, nondescript in its support for her cause. Rarity took a draw and blew out a cloud of smoke. “I bet he—”

“Ma’am,” the bartender’s voice cut in across the conversation. “This is a no-smoking bar.”

“No smoking?” Rarity asked, incredulous. “You serve dragons.”

They sat together there, side by side at the bartop. Though he was not yet a fully grown adult, Spike was at that point too large to use chairs. He sat on the floor in front of the bar, and even so disadvantaged, towered over both the counter and the other patrons. A young dragon in his prime, his frame bulged with muscle, and his wings grew in as wide as he was tall. His claws had the power to bend steel, but were as yet fine enough to pick up delicate glassware without scratching it. With Rarity seated on a barstool, her head was at the level of his broad chest, and he had to look down at the top of her head.

From that vantage, he could see the grey hairs beneath her purple hair-dye. Though she kept herself in excellent physical shape for her age, one could not deny that Rarity was well past her youth. She had lines around her eyes, creases in her skin. She had to dye her mane to keep it purple, dye her coat to keep it white, get her cutie mark recolored with spray-inks to keep it sharp. She wore elegant wire-frame glasses, and while they were both artful and aesthetic, without them she was functionally blind.

“City ordinance, ma’am,” the bartender said. “I’m going to need you to put that out.”

Rarity took a long drag off the cigarette, burning it down nearly to the butt, then blew out a long shaft of smoke and extinguished the remains of it in her cocktail. “Well then, I’m going to need a new drink. What’s Spike drinking? Is that whiskey? I’ll have that. And some pretzels.”

The bartender gave her a dirty look, and Spike tried to mitigate the situation as best he could, pleading with his eyes, promising a large tip if they didn’t get thrown out. The stodgy earth pony behind the bar finally relented, wandering off to find a new glass and the right bottle.

And then the conversation lulled. Rarity looked up at Spike, but he said nothing. He continued to stare at her in that reptilian way, eyes wide, expression flat. A powerful awkwardness settled over Rarity, though for the life of her she couldn’t tell if it was mutual.

“So…” she eventually managed. “He’s the worst.”

“Yes,” Spike agreed, without real inflection.

And then the silence came again. Rarity stared down at the bar, and tapped it with a hoof.

“So what do you think?” she asked, when the stillness grew too much. The bartender appeared, laying a napkin in front of her, and upon it a glass of whiskey. A bowl of pretzels soon followed.

“I think Iron Will is a fool not to take you. You’re an amazing actress,” Spike answered, his tone shifting into a soft, affable admiration. “It’s funny to meet you in person. You’re not at all like I pictured. Your performance on screen is always so subtle, so nuanced. You play these demure and rich and interesting characters. I always imagined that if I met you, you’d be prim and proper.”

“Oh, darling!” Rarity said, seamlessly shifting to an upper-class Canterlot accent. She turned up her muzzle, bounced her elegantly coiffed mane with the tip of a hoof. “Surely you must know that a lady is always prim and proper.”

“Okay, you’re making fun of me? But yes,” Spike grinned, showing off a mouth full of fangs. “I’ve never been able to do accents.”

“What you do is harder than petty impressions,” Rarity assured him. “You’re good. You really are. Today would have been marvelous if not for the ending.”

“Have you, um…” Spike cleared his throat. “Seen any of my work?”

“You were Draco Varga on Breaking Horses.” Rarity said. “I liked it. And I heard you were in… oh. What was it? One of the new Marevel movies?”

“I was Green Knight in Captain Equestria: The Crystal Solider.”

“That must have paid well.”

“I bought a house, yeah,” Spike nodded. “Or, well. A lair. A cave. I’ll rattle around in it now, but you know. I’ll grow into it.”

Another lull fell. Rarity sipped her whiskey, spat it out, and had to have it explained to her that Fireball Whiskey was not just whiskey with dragon-friendly branding, but had cinnamon in it. She gagged and ordered a Mai Tai. Spike drank her whiskey for her.

“Why are you here then?” Rarity asked, turning back, craning her neck to look up at him. “Forgive me, but it doesn’t seem like your sort of role. Looking at your past performances, I would never have guessed you’d be such a good fit.”

“My agent thought it would be good for my career. Show some range.” He shrugged, and Rarity lowered her head again. “What about you? Why did you want to do an… interspecies romance? That feels weird to say.”

“Oh, I loved the book.” Rarity answered, pausing when she saw Spike’s puzzled expression. “The book. Calico Road. You did know this movie was based on a book?”

“I don’t think they mentioned that today, did they?”

“I was in the script,” Rarity pressed, dry. “Did you read the script?”

“I read the parts they told me were going to be in the audition.”

“I…” Rarity announced, with an air of finality. “Hate you.”

Lighting her horn, she telekinetically lifted a single pretzel from the bowl, holding it up to Spike as though for inspection. With only the most ladylike grace, she crushed it between her teeth, continuing to talk while eating. “Calico Road is the story of a dragon named Torch who falls in love with a sixty-five year old unicorn dressmaker named Chrysanthemum. The whole town mocks and belittles them for their relationship, but true love shines through, and they have a beautiful romance until her tragic death in a wagon crash. I cried when I read that book, and not like I always cry in book club. I cried sober. It was a masterpiece, and I was so excited to hear it was getting made into a movie.”

“Only now Chrysanthemum is getting played by Applejack,” Spike deadpanned.

“And Torch is getting played by you!” Rarity replied, tone turning chirpy and upbeat on a dime. “Why, this could be the greatest acting challenge of your and Applejack’s careers! How will you ever convince audiences that your character could possibly be interested in the mare who was Equestria’s most eligible bachelorette two years running? Will you two have the screen chemistry, the sheer animal magnetism, to make ponies believe that a young and active mare could have romantic feelings for a stallion with a tongue as long as her tail?”

“First,” Spike said, “dragon tongues don’t work that way. Second, I’m not a stallion, I’m a drake. And third, I’m not playing Torch, because I flipped off the director and walked out after you, remember? It happened like twenty minutes ago; that’s how we came to be in this bar?”

“Oh,” Rarity said. “Right.”

And then it was awkward again. Rarity stared down into her drink.

“I hope…” She paused, stumbling for the words. “You said this was for your career. I hope it wasn’t important to—”

“I’ll be fine,” Spike said. “Really, don’t worry about it. They’re already talking about three new Captain Equestria movies. I’m not going to run out of work.”

“No,” Rarity said, eyes still downcast. She pulled out her compact, extracted a second cigarette, then remembered the bartender’s earlier words and put it back away with a snarl. “No, I was… thoughtless, today. You don’t need to ruin your career on—”

“Why did you like Calico Road so much?” Spike smoothly cut her off, lifting a talon to rest it beside her on the bartop. “The way you described it, honestly, it sounds like Oscar bait. Like, the movie would have lots of dramatic shots of ponies staring out windows in the rain, voiceovers, scenes that are just there for the symbolism.”

Rarity let out a long breath, and a slow count of three passed before she reacted to Spike at all. But then her head abruptly snapped up, and she smiled like all was right in the world. “Well first, you’d know what shots it had if you’d read the script. Second—”

“Does it have a dramatic shot of a pony staring out the window in the rain?”

“None of your fucking business!” Rarity answered, weaponizing her cheerfulness into a concentrated beam of flowers and sunshine. “Second, I liked it because it isn’t cheap. Chrysanthemum isn’t into Torch simply because he’s hot, pun intended. She’s into him because she’s desperately, quietly lonely and sad and she doesn’t know why. She wants her life to be different, but she doesn’t know what different looks like. And here comes this…”

Rarity gestured up at Spike. “Here comes this drake. Whom she isn’t sure she likes. She isn’t sure she likes him personally, and she isn’t sure she’s into dragons, but he certainly is different. The first time she kisses him, it isn’t love, it isn’t even lust. She is just as repulsed by the idea of a dragon and a pony making love as the rest of the town. Her kissing him is a profound act of self-destruction. It’s her giving up on her life and saying she’ll do anything, embrace anything, perform the most repulsive acts, as long as she doesn’t have to be here, and now, and herself.”

Rarity picked up her drink, considering it then, and with one swing downed the rest of her Mai Tai. “And her family is absolutely awful to her, and so is the rest of the town, and so is Torch’s mother. They’re cruel, and their cruelty drives her further into Torch’s arms because she believes she deserves it. And the fact that he is genuinely kind and loving, the fact that she enjoys his warmth, it sneaks up on her. The first time she says ‘I love you,’ she says it just to make him happy. To make him shut up and stop pestering her. And then she realizes it’s true and weeps into his shoulder.”

With her telekinesis, she dropped twenty bits on the counter. “Calico Road is a romance between a dragon and a pony written by an author who I truely, honestly believe did not have a fetish for interspecies couples. It is passionate, it is torrid, it is unapologetically sexual, and it is even at points enticing, but it is not about Torch and Chrysanthemum being a hot couple. It is a love letter, it is an expression of empathy and understanding, to ponies who want something out of life that they aren’t supposed to have. Who know that there’s something they deeply, truly need to be happy, and know that society will never understand or approve of them having it.”

Then she snapped open her compact, pulled out a cigarette, and gestured at the bar’s exit: “Fuck I need a smoke.”

It had started to drizzle while they were inside, though the sky remained inexplicably sunny, without a cloud in sight. Though the rain was so mild it wouldn’t even have extinguished Rarity’s cigarette, Spike still stretched a wing over her like an umbrella.

He also offered to light it with his dragon flame. She declined. A spark from her horn lit the thing, and the smoke pooled under the curve of Spike’s wing, an upside-down sea.

“So that… explanation back there,” Spike cleared his throat, “it sounded personal.”

“It was.” Rarity leaned hard against the outside of the bar. “Calico Road meant something to me.”

She let out a long breath. “You should go back there and tell Iron Will you’re sorry. He’d take you back. You didn’t flip him off.”

Spike frowned, his brow furrowed. “Why?”

“It would be good for your career. And you and Applejack…” Rarity’s eyes flicked to the casting office across the street. “You and Applejack could do a tremendous romance together. You’re both marvelous actors. You’re both subtle, and clever, and you know how to sell all the little details.”

Silence hung between them.

“No,” Spike said. “I don’t think we could. Applejack is good and all, you’re right. But she’s also a thirty-four year old earth pony who has an ass like a roll of bits and a tail you could just shove your face into and breathe deep.”

The vulgarity caught Rarity off-guard, eliciting a coughing fit. Spike smiled until she was done, then went on: “Look, um… forgive me for being dirty here. But if Applejack and I are the stars of that movie? It’ll be a thirst-trap fetish film. Because it’ll be a movie about a young, strong, fit, wide-hipped conventionally attractive earth pony banging a dragon who looks like he bench presses cars and sweats testosterone. No matter how subtly we act, no matter how good the script, ponies will show up because they have a fetish for watching mares get nailed by creatures twice their size. And that’s it. I’m sorry but it’s true.”

He shrugged: “At your age, it wouldn’t be appropriate to cast you as a twenty-something kung-fu fighting SMILE operative. And at her age, it’s not appropriate to cast Applejack for Calico Road. She would ruin it.”

Rarity turned away from Spike, levitating her cigarette next to her head. Smoke danced in lines above her, and she was for a time unable to speak. “Do you have a fetish for ponies or something?”

“Yes,” Spike answered. “But there are easier ways to ask Applejack out. And it wouldn’t be a good movie.”

“No,” Rarity agreed. “It wouldn’t.”

And then, truely, they were out of things to say—and Rarity found she suddenly didn’t want to be there. Her throat got tight, and her ears burned. “I’m going to get a cab. Sorry, I should go home.”

“Sure,” Spike said. “Sure. But uh… hey. If you ever… do, want to do a movie together, call me, okay? I really do admire your work. And the way Iron Will treated you today was shitty.”

Rarity mumbled some words of thanks. They exchanged phone numbers. And life went on. Spike went home, flew to the only gym in Hollywood with a dragon-accessible yard. He skimmed another script before bed, and worked on his singing lessons. He called his agent, and a number of friends, about being in a Joss Whepony webseries called Fire: The Musical! He did paid autographs for fans of his role in Captain Equestria.

Two weeks passed, and he never texted her. Maybe he forgot about her. Maybe he thought she was only being polite, and didn’t want to talk to him.

Regardless, at the end of that time, she called him. The dragon-sized phone in his lair rang, a machine the size of a kitchen table, which used a full-size television as a screen and was operated by blocky mechanical buttons built into the wall. Its clamoring bell filled his cave, and he pulled a knife switch and flipped two switches to answer.

At least it had caller-ID though, so he knew who it was. “Hey, Rarity!” he answered her all sing-song. “How’s it going? Did you want to hang out sometime?”

“No.” Rarity said, and for a moment the line was silent. “I’d like you to look at a script.”

Comments

[Bandy]

The first time she kisses him, it isn’t love, it isn’t even lust.

I am curious to know if Rarity's take on Calico Road shares any similarities to your take on Like Fine Wine. The comic has always fascinated me as an exploration of Rarity's character, and imo there's a lot of potential parallels to be drawn between the two.

[GaPJaxie]

11784200

I'll give you a hint, in the next chapter you see that the first movie she and spike make together is called Like Fine Wine.

I'm not ripping off the classics, it's an homage!

[horizon]

“Calico Road is a romance between a dragon and a pony written by an author who I truely, honestly believe did not have a fetish for interspecies couples. It is passionate, it is torrid, it is unapologetically sexual, and it is even at points enticing, but it is not about Torch and Chrysanthemum being a hot couple. It is a love letter, it is an expression of empathy and understanding, to ponies who want something out of life that they aren’t supposed to have. Who know that there’s something they deeply, truly need to be happy, and know that society will never understand or approve of them having it.”

I unironically love the fact that you seem physically incapable of committing text to narrative without going this hard.