Summer, YOH 1505 (early-mid Season Five): Rarity gets an unpleasant surprise when Dashing Cape, the Our Town clothier, shows up on the doorstep of the Carousel Boutique? Can she ignore a terrible dream and give his ideas a chance?
Summer, YOH 1505 (early to mid Season Five): Rarity has recovered from the psychological damage of her captivity in Our Town, and the fomerly Equal Ponies have begun to recover from the damage done to them by Starlight Glimmer.
Secure in Spike's love and her own Fabulousness, Rarity is working on the designs for her planned Canterlot Boutique, when she receives an unexpected visitor -- a Pony she devoutly hoped never to see again.
Fate caught up with Rarity Belle in the late summer of 1505, when a loose thread she never would have tolerated in one of her garments, but was only too happy to ignore in the story of her life, came knocking on the door of the Carousel Boutique. It was a loose thread only within Rarity's imagination, but to her it was very real.
It had been, up to that point, a good day. She had recently returned from some exhausting business in Canterlot: first, setting up her long-desired Canterlot Boutique, which had involved dealing with her brilliant and energetic, but very strong-headed, store manager Sassy Saddles. Then, using all her wit, charm, and -- dare she say it to herself -- superb fashion sense, she had kept Rainbow Dash from being framed for misconduct and kicked out of the Wonder Bolts.
Soon, she would have business in the center of the Equestrian fashion world, Manehattan. There, she was keeping up her contacts, especially with her competent and trusty friend, Coco Pommel, in anticipation of expanding into that great island metropolis, opening a third store some time next year. But for now, she was -- by her standards -- 'taking it easy,' which meant that she was only working on finishing a shipment of garments intended for Canterlot later this week. The work was easy, routine, her telekinesis performing multiple operations effortlessly.
By itself it would have been merely soothing, requiring but minimal mental effort on her part, freeing her to contemplate many other things.
It was his presence that rendered the work actualy pleasurable.
Twilight Sparkle had gone off to confer with the Royal Pony Sisters -- privately, Rarity thought that it was mostly with Princess Luna. Rarity's acute pattern-sense had long observed the growing closeness between Luna and Twiight, especially since Twilight had helped Luna exorcise her literal demon of guilt, the Tantabus. Rarity wasn't sure if Twiight and Luna were actual lovers yet, but she would have to have been blind, deaf and stupid not to notice how things were trending.
The others all saw it as well, but they all chose to mostly remain quiet about it, so as to avoid embarrassing Twilight on the topic. Well, Rarity wasn't sure if Rainbow Dash saw it, but then Dashie often missed the signs of 'mushy stuff,' as she put it, despite the fact that Rarity well knew Dashie to be capable of the softer emotions.
Rarity saw nothing wrong with the relationship. Rarity would of course have been deeply upset if Twilight, whom she deeply loved and respected, had been throwing herself away on somepony unworthy of her, but Princess Luna was -- both by virtue of social status and her own sterling character, just about the worthiest Pony imaginable. Rarity supposed that if they wanted foals they could adopt, or come to some other such arrangement. In any case they were obviously taking it very slowly, between Luna's immortal patience and Twilight's, well, prudishness -- foals would clearly be a question for an indeterminate and perhaps distant future.
Rarity wished their love well, and hoped that it would lead to a doubly-royal wedding. She would love the chance to design bridal wear for both of them! She was pretty sure she'd be asked, too. It would uttery cement her reputation.
In the meantime, Rarity was simply happy that Twilight had traveled to Canterlot alone.
Because that meant she got to have Spike's assistance.
There he was, working alongside her, fetching her things and sometimes writing her thoughts down. As they worked, she talked to hium, discussing her plans, from the epic to the trivial. And he listened. And, sometimes, commented.
And, when Spike spoke, Rarity listened. She had found from experience that the young Dragon had a very good mind, and a surprisingly down-to-earth one: it was a valuable complement to her own, because -- while Spike was perfectly capable of going off on flights of fancy of his own, they were on different subjeccts than those on which she became overly-enthusiastic.
They made a good team. As work-mates, and -- she now thought -- perhaps someday as something more.
This had been brought home to her by the events of the past few years. She had seen Spike repeatedly demonstrate adult courage and decisiveness, such as would have put most grown stallions of her acquaintance to shame. She had experienced just how fickle fate might be: she had been driven mad by Discord, enthralled by the Night Shadows, lost her powers to Tirek and Starlight Glimmer, then menaced once more by a marauding Night Shadow.
Each time, Spike had been there for her, had comforted her and helped her to rally. Sometimes, he had directly fought on her side; but even when he couldn't, she had been strengthened and cheered merely by the awareness that his own dear Draconic soul existed: was real; loved her.
Her chosen career, of necessity, included some compromises. She had to please others; normally joyed in doing so; but sometimes she was tempted to compromise too much of herself, her inner vision, her Fabulousness. She had hurt herself, in the past, by doing so.
Nowadays, whenever she was tempted, she remembered that she lived in a world that also contained Spike. Who adored her; who always saw the best in her
And this awareness helped make her strong.
She was sitting at her work table, sewing away while moving about poniquins with another part of her mind, and chatting with Spike, when her doorbell rang.
"Spikey-Wikey," she almost sang. "Will you be a dear and get that?" She was at a delicate stage of the work, and didn't want to drop a stitch.
"No problem," replied Spike, and sauntered over to the door. It was a new door, with a new and thoroughly-modern electric doorbell; she had installed it to replace the door Spike had broken when he'd tried to save her from that marauding Night Shadow in April. The cost of replacing that door was trivial to her; the knowledge that, when things seemed darkest, there would always be a small purple Dragon to save her from the monsters, in contrast, was priceless.
Spike opened the door a crack; looked through it at someone on the other side.
"Carousel Boutique," he said cheerfully. "May we help you?"
"Would this be the boo-teek owned by Rarity Belle?" a boisterous, friendly voice boomed in a Palomino Territories accent.
A chill ran down Rarity's spine.
No, she thought, numbly. Not him!
"You have come to --" Spike began, as he started to open the door.
Rarity acted, fast.
Reaching out with her telekinesis, she grabbed the door, preventing Spike from opening it any further. Carefully prying Spike's hand from the doorknob -- even in her extremity of revulsion, she was carreful not to hurt her darling -- she slammed the door shut with a resounding boom. She kept her field on the door, so that it could not be opened.
Spike was quick to improvise.
"Um, we're closed right now," he said. "Come again later!"
Spike threw the bolt on the door, then turned towrd Rarity. Through her fear, she noted approvingly that Spike was making sure that her unwanted visitor could neither enter nor overhear them. Such a sharp mind! One in a million!
"Rarity?" he asked in a very low tone. "What's going on?"
"It's him!" she hissed at Spike. "Him!"
"Him?" asked Spike. "Who him?
Rarity trembled at the memory. She was momentarily incapable of coherent speech.
Spike frowned. "Is he connected to Rush?" he asked, an angry edge entering his voice. "Or Mindbender?" His eyes began glowing, and smoke to seep from his mouth. There was a smell of brimstone, as his pyrogastrum prepared him to breathe fire, if necessary. His crest stood rigid in challenge to any who would threaten the one he loved.
He was referring to her caddish ex-beau from finishing school, Rush Rocks -- who had left her alone and in trouble at age thirteen -- ten years ago, and five years before she had met Spike. Rush had come back two years ago, in the employ of the sinister Lippanzer psychologist Doctor Mindbender -- who was, in turn, working for the Night Shadows.
Spike had seen off Rush and his goons by mean of his own Draconic might, leaving them with painful bites and burns. Mindbender, himself, had wisely fled as Rarity, in her despair and anger, accepted possession by a Night Shadow, becoming Nightmare Rarity, a Unicorn with powers even greater than those of Twilight or Luna, but consumed by hatred and compelled to do evil.
Liberating Rarity from the Nightmare had taken a quest to the Dream-Moon, where Spike, swelled to gigantic size in his dream-form by his love for Rarity, had fought off a horde of lesser Night Shadows and destroyed their castle. Finally, the combined might of Luna, Twilight and the massed Ponies of Ponyville had succeeded in driving the Night Shadow from its host, leaving Rarity ashamed and horrified, but unharmed.
The memory of a gigantic Spike triumphing over impossible odds, driven on by his love for her, warmed her spirits, and Rarity regained the power of speech.
"No, Spike," she said. "It's not them."
The smokes died away and Spike's crest relaxed a bit. "Who, then?"
"It's him," she repeated. "The one from my nightmare, the one I had when I came back from Our Town."
Spike looked mystified. "I remember that," he said. "That was the first time you had me spend the night with you. The next day, you made Little Rarity." He referred to the peluche doll she had given him, sewed cunningly into her own form -- a love-gift, special to both of them. "You dreamed you were caught in Our Town, and you married one of the Ponies there, and were going to have a foal."
She could sense his voice-stresses, the pattern of his speech, and she knew that he was deliberately editing the truth for her own benefit. Dear Spike, she thought. Trying to shield my reputation, even from myself, and regarding a dream.
But honesty is required here. And the truth is that I was almost broken, almost driven insane, by Starlight Glimmer.
"Spike, darling," she said. "You know the outline of that dream. I was trapped in that terrible little town, alone, and helpless to resist Starlight Glimmer.
"I did not 'marry.' There was no 'marriage' in Our Town. I merely mated like a dumb beast. No morals, no love, not even much pleasure. I was just a thing, obeying my instincts." She closed her eyes, almost overwhelmed by her remembered despair. "Much like the Primal Ponies -- but, I imagine, worse, for I coud remember once having been more.
"In the dream, I was afraid that I had quickened, as I had when -- you know." Even now, she did not like to speak Rush's name, even to one of the very few who knew the tale. "And I did not want any foal of mine to grow up in Our Town. So I decided to -- end myself. And I might well have done myself real harm, sleepcasting, had Princess Luna not then in truth appeared to save me from the Night Shadow who had afflicted me with that dream, who had been trying to trick me to let it in that I might again become Nightmare Rarity."
Spike nodded. "I know. I just didn't like going into the details." He frowned again. "But what does your old nightmare have to do with the Pony who was just at our door?"
"It was him, Spike, him!"
"Who in particular?"
'Dashing Cape!"
Spike looked mystified, and Rarity realized that she had never told Spike his name.
"The Pony with those dreadful garments, Spike, the one from Our Town. The one I worked for in my dream, after I had been broken by that witch. The one I mated with, in that dream.
She was absolutely serious, as serious as he had ever seen her be. There was no sign of hyperbole, of the playful, deliberate exaggerations in which Rarity routinely indulged to make her life more dramatic and exciting, and amuse herself and her good friends. Such were not exactly lies, but not precisely truths either.
Rarity did not generally believe her own exaggerations; not to the extent that Twilight Sparkle did when she was freaking out over some imagined dereliction of personal duty. But she enjoyed them, unlike Twilight.
Twilight Sparkle had raised Spike like her own child, though technically she was his adoptive elder sister. And Twilight Sparkle was brilliant. And crazy.
In the last five years, Spike had fallen ever more deeply in love with Rarity Belle. And Rarity was brilliant. And crazy.
Spike -- who was highly intelligent, and, thankfully for the safety of everypony in the vicinity of the small but super-strong, adamant-toothed and clawed, moonsilver steel armored fire-breathing Dragon, not noticably insane -- had long since detected the pattern. Which did not mean that he could do much to change it, even had he wanted to change it, which he really didn't.
Spike was doomed to love -- in one manner or another -- briliant and crazy Unicorn mares.
Which was okay. He could deal with brilliance and insanity.
He had, after all, been dealing with both since he had hatched.
There was, however, an art to doing so properly. Sometimes one directly confronted the irrationality, beat it down with one's force of words. And sometimes one gentled the beloved, brilliant, and crazy Unicorn mare out of her insanity, giving her just a little help to see where she was going wrong.
In fifteen years of living with Twilight Sparkle, Spike had become very, very good at judging the difference between the best occasions for each strategy.
He judged this an occasion for gentleness. But first, he had to scout the mine a bit more.
"Rarity," he asked softly, "has there ever been -- outside of dreams, I mean -- anything betwen Dashing Cape and yourself?"
He steeled himself for the answer. He was quite aware that Rarity sometimes saw stallions -- though less and less during the time he had known her. He acknowledged this, as he did all reality. Which didn't mean that he had to like it.
Rarity looked at him as if he were crazy.
'Goodness, no!" Rarity declared. "Spike, you must understand. Our experience in that awful little place was first of boredom, then suffering, then exhilerating danger. It was scarcely an ice-cream social, with shy glances, or stolen kisses behind the meeting-hall."
She made a pretty little frown -- though, of course, in Spike's opnion, Rarity was almost incapable of making any expression that was not beautiful.
"Though of course," she reflected, "we had a rather jolly little party after we defeated Starlight Glimmer. That wan't quite so bad. But, really, we were more relieved that it was finally all over, than really cheerful. Certainly, we were not in any mood for romance. Those poor Ponies, the ones who'd lived there -- they'd suffered far worse than we. They'd been under her tyranny for years." She looked distressed as she contemplated their pain. "It was more for them, really.
"But no. I barely exchanged two words with him. Just enough to learn his name and Talent -- he was a clothier, of course, and I imagine now one of greater ability than he was able to demonstrate under the Sameness. I wished him well, now that he could be himself again, and hoped that he would prosper in his trade. Mostly politeness -- though, of course, I meant those sentiments.
"I really felt for his former plight, I suppose. He must have had a sense of beauty and fashion, just as do I, and he'd lost it, for so long. Beeen without it for months, perhaps years, under that horrid Sameness. I almost went mad after a few days of it -- what must he have endured?"
She stroked her chin.
"That must have been the seed of my dream! I must have identified with him, sharing my trade as he did, and imagined myself in his place." She frowned. "Only the dream mingled that with the fear I really felt, when I was Starlight's captive, that I should never get free of her. So I dreamed myself working alongside him, as I might really have been if Starlight had broken me.
"The rest of it, I suppose, was a mish-mosh of logic, lust, and the Night-Shadow warping my imagination for its own evil ends. The Night-Shadow wanted me to despair, so it rummaged around in my mind and made me conjure a scenario in which I would feel utterly awful and helpless, so that I might accept its treacherous offer of aid. Ugh!" she said, shuddering. "I despise those foul creatures!"
For a moment she hung her head, refusing to meet Spike's gaze. Then, she looked directly at him. "One of the worst parts of that dream," she said, "was that I imagined I must be forever deprived of your dear friendship. I am so very glad that it was all just a lie; nothing but a dark dream!"
She reached out and affectionately stroked Spike's cheek.
For a moment, Spike simply luxuriated in the sensation of her touch. Then, he reluctantly did his duty, and asked the important question: "What do you suppose Dashing Cape wanted?"
"Why ..." said Rarity, as if the question had just occurred to her. "I ... don't know!" She screwed up her face (very cutely, in Spike's opinion) then said: "Whatever it was, it must have been very important to him to make him travel here to Ponyville, all the way from the foothills of the Crystal Mountains."
Spike waited for it to hit her.
"Oh -- my gracious," said Rarity.
Spike could almost hear it as Rarity managed to avoid saying anything saltier than 'my gracious.' He admired her verbal skills.
"Oh, sweet Celestia!" she added, by way of variety. "Spike, we have been incredibly rude to the poor stallion!"
We? Spike thought, but wisely chose not to say aloud, instead mutely nodding in agreement.
"He came all the way from Northern New Yoke Province to see me, and I slammed my door in his face!" The last phrase she almost wailed.
"Oh, yeah," said Spike.
"Oh, no!," Rarity cried in dismay. "The poor dear -- he's surely not to blame for my dream! We simply must make amends to him -- hear him out, and find out why he came!"
"Yep," agreed Spike.
"Be a darling and find him, please?" Rarity asked. "Tell him I was in the midst of some very delicate work right then, apologize for me,find out what he wants, and have him come back here in half an hour." She glanced at herself in the mirror. "Make that an hour I simply must make myself properly presentable." She smiled archly. "After all, we were almost married. In my dream."
"Sure thing, Rarity!" Spike didn't like that last comment, but it would be silly to take offense over it.
Rarity frowned. "Oh, whatever you do, do not tell him about the dream. I would be mortified!"
Spike smiled. "Don't worry," he said "I understand you."
"You always do, dear Spike." She smiled very warmly at him. "You always do."
Spike was aided in his quest to locate the stallion by the facts that Ponville was a small town, and one with which he was intimately familiar. He had clearly seen the stallion at the door: a big, bluff hearty fellow with a brown coat, untidy shock of dark brown mane, and intense dark green eyes, wearing a large tan Stetson, and clad in a matching tan cape -- rather heavily-dressed, for the warm August afternoon.
Their visitor hadn't had much time to go far, and he hadn't gone far. Spike noticed him sitting at a street-corner cafe table, eating an ice-cream sundae, but a block and a half north of the Carousel Boutique. He had gone in the direction of the train station, Spike noted, and wa glad that he had chosen to start searching in that direction. Wouldn't do to have him leave town before Rarity got to talk to him.
Spike ambled over. The stallion spotted him almost immediately -- as the only Dragon amongst Ponies, Spike stood out despite his short stature. Spike smiled at him, and gave him a friendly wave.
"Hello, Mr. Cape," Spike said, walking over to his table. "Mind if I join you?"
"It's a free realm," Dashing replied. He sounded depressed, and his ears drooped. "Though, frankly, Ah'm a mite surprised to see you."
"Why's that?" asked Spike, with studied innocence.
"Wal, Ah know Miss Rarity was avoiding me," sighed Dashing. "Ah suppose it's 'cause of how Starlight treated her at Our Town. And Ah didn't make so much as a peep o'protest, 'least not until Double Diamond and Party Favor raised rebellion." He sighed again. "Ah'm a tailor. Ah never claimed to be no hero." For all his size, the big stallion suddenly seemed helpless and small.
Dashing's suggestions were uncomfortably close to the truth. Spike did not like to lie directly, so he asked instead:
"And how are Double Diamond and Party Favor doing now?"
"They're doing right tolearable," Dashing said, his mood brightening. "DeeDee ... that's Double Diamond ... he's become something of our leader, though he doesn't try to meddle in everypony's private business the way Starlight did. Which is a relief, Ah tell you. Party Favor and Night Glider are his main honchos -- PeeEff organizes town shindigs, and Night Glider flies patrols and keeps folk from gettin' too rowdy. They all hang out at Sugar Belle's shop -- she's thick with all o'them, now." He smiled. "They're a good bunch o'Ponies. And Sugar Belle makes some tasty treats these days!"
"Sounds like you're all doing well, then," commented Spike.
"We're all a-okay. Now that we can use our talents proper-like, we've all been doing our jobs much better. Double Diamond and Party Favor are talking about building a ski resort and bringing in tourists, so we can make us some bits and order things from the catalogs. See, Starlight used to buy supplies for us -- she had some kind of money, I think it was from rich Equalists -- but o'course we don't have that any more. But now we can make nice things ourselves, and that feels a lot better. But we can't make everything in Our Town -- we're way too small for that. We need outside trade."
"That makes sense," said Spike.
"Party Favor explained it. He's himself from some old clan, Canterlot gentry -- the Ruins or something like that."
"Runes?" asked Spike. "I think I've heard of them. I'm originally from Canterlot myself." He knew of an old family named that -- Twiight had once had a class under a noted professor of magical theory named Quasar Rune, and he himself had once met a Silk Shimmer Rune, who had mostly used her magic for party tricks: he'd heard something about her going on to career as a stage magician. He wondered if they were some sort of kin to Party Favor.
"Yeah, something like that. Pee-Eff says they're all powerful mages and scholars -- 'cept for him, the way he talked he was sort of the runt o' the litter when it came to magic." He chuckled. "Though Pee-Eff does things with his balloons that rightly shouldn't be possible, so I think he got more o'the magic than he lets on."
"From what I heard, Party Favor's balloon constructs were amazing," said Spike. He had heard rather a lot about them from Twilight Sparkle, who had witnessed them herself, and been fascinated by the physics questions they raised. "He should be proud of them."
"Yeah," said Dashing. "Pee-Eff's too hard on himself, sometimes. That's what Sugar Belle says. He and Sugar Belle have become right friendly-like these days." He leaned forward confidentially. "Just between you and me," he said, "Ah wouldn't be too surprised if they formed an Intention."
This was roughly equivalent to an 'understanding' in urbane terms: it meant that the couple involved were considering a formal engagement, or Betrothal, as more rustic Ponies put it.
"Really?" Spike asked, though he in fact believed Dashing Cape. Twilight's report, which Spike had helped her write, had mentioned that Party Favor and Sugar Belle had been very good friends, and specifically that Party Favor had endured emotional abuse from Starlight Glimmer to shield Sugar Baker from suspicion. To Spike, who similarly would have endured anything to protect Rarity from harm, this seemed a sure sign of some sort of love.
"Oh, shore," said Dashing. "Ah've seen them makin' goo-goo eyes at each other, when they didn't think no one was watching." He winked. "There's been a lot o'that in Our Town, since The Sameness ended."
"The Sameness kept Ponies from falling in love?" Spike asked.
"Yeah. Living under The Sameness was sort o'like iiving under gauze -- all muffled-like, Ah mean --" He broke off and looked at Spike uncertainly, an uncertainity with which Spike was all too familiar. Sometimes, it was useful to look rather like a Pony foal. Much of the time, though, it was annoying. "How old are you, exactly?"
"Fifteen," Spike said He had no idea how long his egg had lain dormant, but he counted from hatching, as a Pony would have from birth.
"Wal, Ah guess yore old enough," said Dashing, leaning in again, and speaking in confidential tones "See, our mares'd still Cycle, and we'd still be roused -- a little. But it was all sort o' vague. Kind of like they were 'I'd mebbe like some pesterin' if h really liked yew, and yew asked real nice and often,' and we'd be 'If'n yew really asked us we'd mebbe pester yew, if'n we felt like it and weren't too busy,' but neither stallion nor mare really cared about it all that much, if yew see what Ah mean."
Spike nodded. "Sort of like seeing a pretty filly at a party, but not wanting all that much to talk to her, in particular?" Spike had no instinctive reaction to marescent as such, though he recognized it; there were other wys in which Rarity excited him.
"Yew got it! Starlight, that bothered her some, 'cause she wanted us to mate and have foals, but that's one thing yew cain't force, not and still be Pony. Some of the mares and stallions tried, but their hearts weren't really in it. And most didn't want to at all, not without Love, and we couldn't feel nothin' so intense, under The Sameness. So it didn't work."
It occurred to Spike, who as a Drake friendly with rather many mares was quite familiar with mares complaining about their Cycles, that Starlight Glimmer had accidentally hit on a possible Suppressor -- though at a price in skill and sanity that few mares would care to pay. He wondered briefly, what Rarity or Twilight would think of this observtion; then realized that it might be an awkward topic for any male to raise to a female.
"But when The Sameness went away," Dashing explained, "we could all feel again!" He smiled joyfully. "Those of us who'd made friends with a mare, come to like her a mite even under The Sameness, why, we was fit to bustin' with Friendship and Love!"
His smile broadened.
"There's this one mare -- Ah worked with her under The Sameness -- and we'd come to be friends, even all flattened down like we was, 'cause -- well, Ah don't know what she sees in an ole has-been or never-was, like me -- but her --" He breathed in deepy. "She's just plain the smartest and nicest and purtiest and best mare Ah ever did meet. Wicked sense o'humor -- she got it back, after we were free, and had me fit to bust a gut laughing with her that first night o'freedom. Some later nights --" Suddenly, he seemed a bit embarrassed. "There's things a gentlecolt shouldn't say, not outright. 'Specially not about a lady as classy as Garter Stitch."
Abruptly, a weight Spike had not even noticed oppressing him, before that moment, lifted from Spike's soul, and he found himself regarding Dashing Cape with kindlier eyes.
"You're in love with her, then?" Spike asked. "Garter Stitch?"
Dashing nodded. "Ah want to declare mah Intention," he said. "But Ah don't want to take me out of pity. She's real good at making purty lingerie. There's always an upscale market for those sort of female fineries." He sighed. "But me, on the other hoof ..." He gazed at Spike earnestly.
"Ah want to pull mah own weight with her. Ah don't want to be some sorta fancy colt living off her Talent. Ah want to be worthy of her. Ah want to use mah own Talent -- the more so now, after so many months deprived o'it.
"But mah Talent's fer makin' cloaks and capes. And those've gone out o'fashion. Also, Ah'm country though and through. An ole cowpoke from the Palomino. Yew kin hear it in mah voice, Ah reckon."
Spike nodded.
"Ah'm not one o' those fancy Canterlot or Manehattan fashion Ponies, like Prim Hemline or Hoity Toity. Ah tried to break into design work in Manehattan before -- but every time Ah opened mah fool mouth, Ah was laughed right out the door. They barely even looked at mah designs -- pegged me as a dumb hick," Dashing said bitterly. "Ah must've been plumb loco to think an outsider like me could make it in the world o'fashion!"
Spike was moved. He was quite the opposite of a hick -- but he knew what it was to be an outsider, and have to try twice as hard as anypony to find acceptance.
Dashing Cape continued.
"Then, Ah met Rarity. We didn't say that much to each other, but Ah found out she was a fashion designer. Later, Ah read about her in a magazine, and Ah larned she weren't no big-city mare to start with neither. She wa a small-town girl from Ponyville, jest a little place on the edge o' the Everfree 'til Princess Twilight moved there. She'd made 'em listen to her.
"Ah got the crazy notion that, if she could do it, mebbe Ah might as well. Ah got out mah ole sketchbook, started workin' on some new cape designs, fer the first time in years. Rarity was mah inspiration, an' Garter Stitch, she encouraged me. Ah started to think mebbe, just mebbe, Ah had a chance." His voice was thick wth passion.
"So Ah came out here to Ponville." He sighed. "Ah reckon Ah was a fool to do so. Miss Rarity -- she must be a mighty busy mare, and Ah should've written ahead, and ... oh, Ah was just a fool to think that somepony as special and important as Rarity Belle would have any time fer a nopony like me!" The big, burly stallion seemed close to tears.
"Wal," he said "Ah suppose Ah won't trouble yew or yore friend no more. Ah'll jest finish this sundae, an' get right back on the next train north, an' jest fergit bout mah foolish dream ..."
"Hold on," said Spike. "Miss Rarity was busy when you knocked on the door -- in the middle of some very delicate work. That's why she slammed the door." He smiled and winked at Dashing. "She can be tempermental at times -- you'd know too, being another creative type."
Dashing Cape looked at Spike with the eagerness of a drowning Pony being offered a helping hoof.
"She asked me to convey her apologies for being so short with you," Spike continued, "and would like you to come back in --" Spike glanced at the clock tower "-- half an hour. She would love to hear you out."
"Fer real?" gasped Dashing Cape, in almost disbelieving happiness.
"Oh yes," said Spike. "For real. Miss Rarity's one of the realest Ponies around, under all her glamour." He paused for a moment. "Just show her what you've got. And give it your all. Rarity respects that."
"Thank yew, Mr. Spike," Dashing said. "Ah'll give it mah best shot."
"You do that," Spike said, sliding off his seat. He wouldn't have minded an ice-cream himself -- watching Dashing eat that sundae had reminded him of how good they tasted -- but he really needed get back to Rarity and report what he had discovered. He'd treat himself later. "I think you'll find she'll be generous toward your ideas."
