> Through the Prism > by The 24th Pegasus > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- > My Light, Her Rainbow > -------------------------------------------------------------------------- Did you know that white light is made up of all the colors of the rainbow? It’s pretty awesome, when you think about it. That’s why you can make a rainbow if you hold a prism to the sun just right. Something you might not really think about can be the sum of all these crazy neat little pieces. If they didn’t work together, then you wouldn’t have the whole. And, well, I feel like that’s us. All of us. We’re all these little things coming together to make us, us. It’s more than just the way we look or how we act, although that’s all most anypony will really see. It’s little things like where we were born, who our parents are, what schools we attended, what games we played growing up, what friends we make. All those little things come together to color our lives. Sometimes they can add up in surprising ways. Take me, for example. Rainbow Dash, newest member of the Wonderbolts, bearer of the former Element of Loyalty, and a heroine who’s saved Equestria like twenty times at this point. I’m crazy good at sports and racing and just about anything athletic. I love getting in a good scuffle from time to time, and I’ll protect my friends with my life. But those are only just some of my colors. Did you know that I love reading? Daring Do and other adventure stories are my jam, but I read other things from time to time, too. Mystery stories are pretty good, too; I’ve recently been reading a lot of Shadow Spade, and it’s been an awesome time. Before, I never could have imagined myself spending as much time as I do now with my nose in a book. I didn’t think it was cool. But I have a friend to thank for showing me otherwise, and now that’s another color that makes me, me. I’ve got a lot of little colors that make up the Rainbow Dash everypony knows and loves, even if the only colors they can see are the ones in my hair or whipping from my tail. It’d take a long time to list them all, and really, there are some that I’d prefer to keep to myself. But not the one sitting across from me. This color is my everything. Sometimes I just wish I could tell her how much of the Rainbow she really is. In a way that doesn’t sound dumb, of course. I see her with a teacup in her magic, slowly taking the tiniest, daintiest sip a pony could possibly drink. Her blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight, and the edges of her beautiful orange dress flutter in the breeze like the petals of a little flower. Her coat is like marble, glossy and gleaming down to every perfect curve, and her horn stands proud and strong through the sunhat on her head, a column that will never fall. Yeah, I’m being all sappy and symbolic and crap. But isn’t that what you do when you’re in love? Rarity sees me staring at her, lost in thought, and she giggles and tickles my nose with her magic. I flinch back as the sensation almost makes me sneeze, and I end up wiping my muzzle with a fetlock. “What’s the matter, Dashie? See something you like?” I smile back, a little embarrassed about being caught, and rub my hooves together. “Oh, uh, yeah, all these flowers are really neat. Think the waiter’ll get mad if I try one?” She rolls her eyes, but smiles regardless. It’s a game we always play, and it’s probably never one that we’ll get tired of. She tries to get me to compliment her or be all mushy to her face, and I do my best to lead her in circles and keep her fishing before finally giving her what she wants. That unspoken bond is there, that hue that connects us, and we don’t have to reaffirm it constantly with words and gestures. Even though we do, anyway. “Oh, absolutely, Rainbow, darling,” Rarity says, her eyes flitting around the table at all the flowers hung up everywhere. “Roseluck tells me that they buy fresh flowers every morning from her stall and spend almost an hour getting the arrangements made before they even open the place. They’d probably charge you for even the tiniest nibble!” “It’s a good thing you’re paying then, right?” I say to her, winking. She scoffs and holds a hoof to her chest, pretending that I’ve insulted her. “How rude! And here I thought you were taking me out on a lovely lunch date before my show tonight.” And she’s right. That is what we’re here for. She puts so much effort into these shows, because they’re the lifeblood of her passion. They’re one of the broad strokes of color that makes her Rarity. Sometimes she gets about four hours of sleep a night; she’s awake when I go to bed, and she’s awake when my alarm goes off the next morning. I don’t know how she does it, but there’s nopony who does it better. And when it’s finally ready to go, there’s nothing she needs more than a nice meal to relax and unwind. I feel like I need it to, honestly. I miss her, but I know that I have absolutely no idea what’s what when it comes to fashion, and me hanging around her workshop would just distract her when she needs complete focus. And with daily Wonderbolts practice, I haven’t seen her nearly as much as I’d have liked to these past few weeks. But in a few hours she’ll be gone again, off to the show to make final preparations for debuting her newest line, and I won’t see her again until Luna’s moon is high in the sky. For now, though, we have the moment, a moment to bathe in each other’s colors. It’s interrupted by the waiter bringing our food to us, and we both thank him for it before he just as quickly disappears. Once more, we’re alone at the table, and once more, the amazing mare in front of me takes away all my words. What can I even say when I’m basking in her presence like a worshipper at a temple? But talking is her domain, her gift. She only spares the time to try a bite of her salad and hum approvingly before turning her attention back to me. “How was practice today? You didn’t get off early for me, did you?” “Of course I did,” I tell her, sharing in her smile. “You think I was gonna let practice keep me up at the academy today?” I chuckle and snatch a spoon between my primaries, preparing to dive into my soup. “Besides, Spitfire was easy on us today. It’s Friday, after all, and we just had a show last week. We don’t have to be at full speed just yet, cuz’ we’ve got another month before our Fillydelphia show.” “Wonderful,” Rarity purrs, taking another bite of her salad. She waits until she’s swallowed it and sucked any shreds of lettuce off of her teeth before saying anything else. “So you’re off tomorrow?” It’s impossible to miss that little spike of hope in her voice. I lean back in my chair and pretend that I’m thinking it over. “I don’t know, I think Soarin’ wanted to go take the team out for drinks tomorrow. I mean, who’d want to miss that?” But before her little smile can turn into a frown, I rest my forelegs on the table again. “But I’m sure they won’t mind if I skip just this one time. I’ve got more important things to do tomorrow, don’t I?” She giggles and abashedly angles her head to the side. “Oh, Rainbow, I’m sure that you do. Do you mind if I help?” “Of course, Rares,” I say back. Wiggling my eyebrows, I add, “I wouldn’t be able to finish without you.” She blushes at that, but tries to take a few bites of her salad to cover it up. Once she finally has the color of her cheeks under control, she coughs once. “Well, uh, yes, hmm, I suppose you are right.” She smiles, and I revel in my little victory. I love tripping her up like that. I chuckle and try out my soup. It’s a pretty good Prench onion soup, garnished with some kind of crumbled leaves on top. It’s all this fancy stuff, and entirely too small for my appetite, but at least it tastes good. And it’s the kind of fare I’ve gotten used to having for lunch. Rarity’s shown me the ‘higher’ tastes of fine dining; she even taught me how to set the table properly, with which knives and forks and spoons go where and when and why. Now, I’m the kind of mare who’d rather eat pasta or things loaded with protein and energy for my flying, but this is what Rarity wants, so it’s what I get. Besides, she eats pizza and hayburgers and other greasy things that she’s always complaining about doing horrible things to her figure when I want to, too, so at least it’s a fair trade. “Who all’s gonna be at the show tonight?” I ask her. “Is the squeaky one gonna be there?” She frowns at me, but it’s all good natured. “Yes, darling, Coco will be there, debuting her first dress line for the fall season. I’ll also be showcasing entries from Inky Rose and Cuff Accent, alongside my own lineup. There are a few other designers as well, but you wouldn’t know their names.” That’s code for ‘I know that you don’t really care about them, but thanks for asking,’ and I nod my head. “Cool.” Leaning over the table, I smirk at her. “You worried about the competition?” “Competition?” She scoffs and tosses her mane. “Darling, this isn’t a Wonderbolts rally, this is an expo. It’s for all of us to show off our latest work and give the public a first glimpse at the newest fashion trends. We’ll be setting the basis of designs for lineups for the next year!” She picks at her salad some more, and after swallowing it, smiles at me with that ambitious smirk of hers that reminds me so much of myself. “Besides, as much as I love their work, please, darling, it’s a competition for second best when I myself am involved.” I chuckle and reach my hoof across the table for her to bump it. “That’s my Rares,” I say, and she smiles and bumps hooves with me. I withdraw to my end of the table and finish off the tiny amount left in the pitifully small soup ‘bowl’. “How late you gonna be tonight?” She sighs and jabs at her lettuce. “I don’t know, Rainbow. The last models should be crossing the runway by ten-thirty, and then there’s the gallivanting and self-congratulating we all do, then it’s off to a party for a while.” She smiles sympathetically at me. “You’re invited to come, if you want, but there’s going to be nothing talk about dresses and fashion and designer choices. Oh, and you’d have to wear something nice, of course. Trust me, I completely understand if you’re not interested.” “Yeah, that’s not really my whole cup of tea.” I sigh in relief when the smile holds on her face; I really hated when she and all her fashion designers got together for parties, because I didn’t know what to say or who to talk to. They usually ended with me looking like an idiot while ponies wanted to know my opinion on whether I preferred buttonhole stitching or chain stitching. “I’ll just hold the fort down until you get back, ‘kay?” “Of course. Do remember to feed Opal, she gets in quite the mood if she thinks I’m forgetting her dinner. And you will make sure that Sweetie Belle is in bed before midnight, won’t you?” I wave my hoof. “Relax, Rarity, I’ve got it all covered. When have I ever failed you before?” Even though it’s a sarcastic comment and we both know it, I can see her running through her mental catalog and remembering all the little screw-ups I’ve made in the past. But she shakes her head to chase those thoughts away and instead gives me an appreciative smile. “Thank you so much, darling. As for when I’m back, I hope to be home before two. Depends on how much ponies want to talk to me.” What she means by that is that she’ll probably be home closer to three, and by that point I’ll already be sound asleep. It’s disappointing, but we’ll have all of Saturday together, so neither of us minds very much. I nod back and make way for the waiter as he sets our actual entrees down in front of us, and once again we both thank him as he leaves with our empty plates and bowls. I take a bite out of my daisy wrap, and Rarity nibbles on the corner of her cheese and spinach panini. And it just sorta goes from there. Rarity talks, and I listen. She asks me what I think, and I answer. She leads, and I follow. Much like we have since we started dating, and much like we will well into the future. Just being with one another makes us both feel complete. A voice catches her attention, and she turns around to exchange a few excited words with a designer friend behind her. I rub my hooves together and smile as I watch her. She’s my everything. She colors my world like nopony else possibly could. Our love is like a prism that lets us see what we’re made of. She’s my white light, and without her, I wouldn’t be my rainbow. And I know that she feels the same way, too That makes me happier than anything else.