• Published 30th Mar 2013
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Thirty Minutes of Fabulosity - Esle Ynopemos



A collection of short stories and vignettes featuring everyone's favorite fashionista.

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24: You Were Rarity [Tragedy]

((Prompt: Write a story in the second person in which “you” is one of the Mane Six or Spike.))

You were Rarity, once.

Best in show, the mare everypony admired. Twice the savior of the world, alongside friends the likes of which could not be found in all the world you helped to save. At the top of your game, for every game. The type of pony everypony should know.

You were the epitome of glamor. Rooms fell silent when you entered. Stallions sprained their necks twisting around to see you, and some mares did, too. Anything in Equestria that could be called beautiful had you to compete with.

You were the very definition of success. Your fashions were not just the best in the industry, they were the industry. The other lines were nothing more than pithy outliers and cheap imitations of what you brought to the table. You placed charcoal against paper, and a thousand ponies made a mad gallop to the nearest mall, clamoring for your wares. You made a single, sweeping stroke, and hats became the new scarves. The pegasi might have moved the weather, but you decided when the seasons changed.

You were magnanimous. You were a river of wealth to those less fortunate than yourself. And with such a self, everypony was less fortunate. Streams of gold flowed into charities across Equestria. Your name became synonymous with the concept of generosity, and it was only half joking when it was said that when an orphan spent a coin, they saw your face.

You were a gleaming jewel. A diamond shining like a star upon Equestria.

But then you were satisfied.

You were still driven, of course. You still made designs for your fashion line, still paid visits to the schools your money built. Still kept your mane perfectly trimmed and your tail brushed. But little by little, the gleam faded. It was hard to keep striving when you had already accomplished your dreams.

And bit by bit, it began to crumble. It didn't phase you, the first time you presented a dress to the public that they didn't immediately fall to the ground and worship. Even Rarity has off days, you told yourself. But eventually you produced a half dozen failures to every success. Ponies muttered things about how you had 'lost your touch,' were 'past your prime.'

You tried to keep your commitments to your charities, but you simply could not give money you did not have. One by one, your favorite causes found themselves new sponsors, or faded away. You tried not to let it get to you when the Rarity Public Schoolhouse was renamed to Blueblood Elementary.

You fought so hard to hold on to your looks. Salves, creams, and tonics. Herbal remedies and daily rejuvenation spells. The owners of spas not just in Ponyville but in Canterlot and surrounding areas as well knew you on a first name basis. But nothing could completely hold back the lines that time and stress drew on your face.

You tried, again and again, to relaunch yourself, to reach the lofty peak you had been so accustomed to. But you would stare at a blank sheet of paper, charcoal at the ready, and wait for inspiration that never came. When you did manage to finish a dress, more often than not you had to take a loss in order to sell it.

It was so embarrassing the first time you had to ask one of your friends for a loan. Just to make ends meet in the short term, you explained. Twilight of course agreed with a kind smile. The next time, Fluttershy had to pay for her own half of your weekly spa date because you were too short to cover the both of you. And then she started paying for your half, too. Soon, your friends ended up buying your meals, as well.

You began to resent them. A Wonderbolt. A Princess. Even Fluttershy, who had about as much ambition as a lump of rock, made a name for herself as the Warden of central Equestria's forests. And you were reduced to accepting their charity.

You didn't need their bits. What you needed was to go back to where you had been. To feel the rush of being the uncrowned queen of Canterlot.

You can almost admit to yourself that it felt just a little bit good to see the shock on their faces when you snapped at them. You said hurtful things to them. Did spiteful, bitter things.

They'll forgive you, of course. They always do. They'll nod in understanding. You've been under a lot of stress lately. You didn't mean it.

You used to be a sparkling diamond. Bright as any star in the sky, and harder than steel. You were Rarity, once.

What are you now?