Ash and Water
Rarity's tongue poked out of the corner of her scrunched mouth, something she always did when concentrating. It was a tick she'd had since she was a foal, and one she went to great pains to suppress when in company. It wouldn't do to force clients to look at her tongue during a fitting, after all. But when she was doing her makeup, a ritual of unappreciated solitude, there was no need to stop herself.
She squinted while she applied the last few strokes of light blue eye shadow, then leaned back and took in the fruits of her labour. Her dressing table's three mirrors gave her a panoramic view of her work, which she appraised silently. It was perfect, of course it was. This wasn't arrogance to admit, it was simple fact. Rarity had done this literally thousands of times and would do so thousands more. At this point she could likely do it in her sleep.
Still, it was worth paying attention. For someone like Rarity a mistake due to lack of ability would be nearly impossible to make. A mistake due to overconfidence was an entirely different story. So since mistakes of any kind were still a possibility, she took a couple of minutes to look out for any that might have occurred.
There were none, she'd already seen that it had been perfect before.
Rarity leant over and blew out the two candles on her dresser one by one. She took a moment in between to watch the light die out and be reborn as wisps of smoke. She made a mental note of it both times, specifically committing to memory the moment at which they were no longer burning. With a nod, she turned and left the room.
Rarity trotted down the hallway and made her way downstairs, already trying to work out whether she'd mentally agree to capitulate to her desire to scarf down an enormous wodge of cake now, or allow a token few minutes conflict on her way to Sugarcube corner. Of course now would have been a lot simpler, but if she did it later then maybe she could scrape together some justification in the context of her perpetual diet.
Then again, Pinkie had mentioned that today's special was red velvet cake...
She chuckled in spite of herself. With a flare of magic she fixed her saddlebag around her barrel and slipped into her boots. A final glance in the nearest mirror confirmed she was ready, and with that she reached for the door handle.
...Rarity's hoof stayed, hovering in mid-air and not making any contact. She furrowed her brow, giving herself the small mercy of pretending to be surprised by this. Had she put the candles out? She really thought she had, but for the sake of potentially leaving naked flames in her bedroom it wasn't worth it.
It was never worth it.
Rarity withdrew her hoof, turned, and went up the stairs again.
She trotted back down the hallway more briskly then she'd come and poked her head into the room. The dresser was not illuminated save for the sunlight filtering in through the window, so the candles were clearly out. She breathed a sigh of relief and made for the stairs again.
She pulled open the door and surveyed the town with a smile. It was a gorgeous day, Celestia couldn't have given them better. Everyone was out and about enjoying the sunshine. In fact it was so sunny Rarity found herself wishing she'd brought out her sunglasses. She could have very easily gone and got them, she hadn't locked the door yet. They would have really helped on such a lovely bright day.
But here was the thing, how bright was it in the house?
Rarity chewed the inside of her mouth. She'd poked her head in the room and looked over at the dresser. She hadn't seen any candlelight, but would she have? Was it so bright that the sunlight could have disguised the candlelight? Surely not, but did she want to risk it?
I come back and the top half of the boutique has gone up in flames and all my work is gone and I don't have anywhere to-
Rarity sighed. She turned around and trotted back inside the house. A telekinetic flare helped to remove her boots since there was no use adding a dirty carpet to her lift of annoyances. When they were off, she went up back upstairs again.
This time, when she reached her room she walked right up to the dresser and peered at the candles. They had been put out, of course they had been put out. She had put them out herself, she'd watched them go out. There was nothing to worry about.
Rarity bit her lip and looked around nervously as if she were about to do something shameful. She then reached a hoof out and held it above one of the candles at a height that would have burned her had it been lit. Her hoof didn't burn, the candle had been put out so there was no source of heat. She could see it wasn't lit. She was literally looking at the blackened, but decidedly unlit wick. She repeated this with the other candle. There was no burn, there was nothing to burn her hoof after all because that candle also wasn't lit.
She withdrew her hoof and steadied her suddenly quickened breath. With that silly little detour taken she could finally leave. Rarity left her bedroom and made her way to the stairs. However, she stopped halfway down them. Her breathing became heavy and fast again as she considered the candles again.
She bit the inside of her mouth hard enough to draw blood as she pictured sitting in Sugarcube corner with her friends. She imagined looking out of the window and seeing distant plumes of smoke, hearing far away screams...
Rarity turned and went up the stairs again.
She pushed open the door hard enough for it to hit the wall, then rushed over to the dresser and grabbed one of the candles. With her free hoof she pressed down on the wick until it broke. The wax was still malleable but only just so, so she pressed it between both hooves until it covered the remaining nub of wick. It just looked like a piece of wax now, no point to light was visible anymore.
She set it down and did the same to the other candle. At no point was she burned. She couldn't have been burned anyway, there was no source of heat. The candles weren't lit. She walked away from the dresser to her door. Then she stopped before leaving the room, hit the doorframe with a forehoof and walked back up to the dresser again.
Rarity slid everything to the edges of the table, save for the candles which she kept in the middle. She leant down and inspected everything. There were no singe marks that she could see on any of her makeup bags, nothing was charred or blackened, there were no imperfections on the table. She placed both hooves around the candles then slowly slid them outwards, taking careful note of the distance between the candles and everything else.
Rarity repeated this a few times and then backed away into the middle of her room. She then walked up to the dresser again and held her hooves above the candles, and since the candles weren't lit her hooves remained unburned again. She pointedly turned and started back to the doorway until she noticed how out of breath she felt.
Now, Rarity was nowhere near out of shape, but she was hardly an athlete. All this traipsing around, getting mad and upset and worked up... Silly! So silly and irrational! She really needed to stop this behaviour. She really needed to stop. She cringed as she brought her hoof up to her forehead and felt a surprising amount of sweat. It was a hot day after all.
She unfastened her saddlebag with a sting of irritation and went into the en-suite. Rarity looked at herself in the mirror. She still looked very nice. Not totally perfect anymore, sweating the way she had done always has a detrimental effect even on waterproof makeup, and Rarity couldn't help but notice even if no-one else would. There was wet on her forehead, there was wet on her cheeks, there was wet in her eyes.
It was such a sunny day, without a rain cloud in sight, and Rarity had put on waterproof makeup anyway.
She leant down and flicked the tap on. She splashed some cool water on her face and gratefully felt herself relax somewhat. The candles were put-out. Of course they were. She wasn't an idiot. She wouldn't have walked away from a lit candle, and she had walked away from them several times today. Ergo, they weren't lit.
Levitating a plush towel over, she gently dabbed the water and perspiration from her body and then set it down. She tightened the taps with her magic until the metal nearly squeaked. She then put her hoof underneath the tap. It didn't get wet because the tap wasn't on.
She left the en-suite bathroom and gave on last cursory glance at the dresser before heading out of her bedroom, not forgetting to grab her saddlebag. She closed the door and walked down the hallway again.
Once she had gotten to the bottom of the stairs, Rarity fastened her bags and put her boots on again. She reached out for the door handle, but brought her hoof back towards herself. With her other forehoof Rarity gently stroked the soft white fur. It was totally dry, of course it was.
I get back and the carpets stink of damp. Mould is already growing and water is pouring down the stairs from the sink upstairs and my dresses are ruined and no-one would come for a fitting anyway because the boutique is smelly and moudly and musty and-
Biting back a sob, Rarity slid off her boots, unfastened her saddlebag and went upstairs to the bedroom again.
In the en-suite, she had her forehooves in the sink. Each one was under a tap, and each one was totally dry. After a few minutes she pulled back and sat on the floor, staring at the sink. The taps were off, she could see they were off. She knew this, of course she knew it. She wasn't insane. Rarity walked back over to the sink and put her hooves back in, and they remained dry.
After a few more repeats of this she left the en-suite and walked over to her wardrobe. Her magic reached out and pulled open the doors as she approached. She reached in and shakily withdrew a box. It was white with a royal purple ribbon. On one corner, a print of Rarity's cutiemark decorated it. It was one of the most thoughtful presents she'd ever received and she absolutely hated it.
Well, that wasn't strictly true. That she hated the idea of it was more accurate. She pulled the lid off and read Pinkie's note, like she did every time.
"Everyone needs a little helping hoof once in a while. You're doing so well and we're all really proud of you! - Pinkie."
She took out the note and hugged it close to her chest. It was such a sweet gesture, she wished so much that it had never been necessary. Inside the box was a camera. It must have cost a fair few bits as well, extra durable for when these things got a little too much. She still teared up a little when she remembered how Pinkie had kindly refused every single offer Rarity had made to pay her back.
First things first, she went over to her dresser and glowered at the candles, the ones which weren't lit. She levitated over the box she stored her candles in, the one of oiled wood and engraved pattern that Twilight had enchanted to be fire resistant. The librarian had said she didn't mind, and had enthusiastically taken the time to talk through the enchantment with Rarity while she did it. When Rarity had left the library with the box, Twilight had given her a hug that had gone on really long.
With one last look at the candles, noting to herself and shouting, screaming in her head that they were unlit, Rarity put them back in the box.
She closed the box and placed it under her bed. With that done, she was free to walk into the en-suite on unsteady hooves and observe the taps which weren't running. The taps weren't running because she'd turned them off, she'd tightened them as well. Rarity hovered her hoof underneath them and the hoof stayed dry because the taps weren't on.
She then pulled the hoof back and levitated up the camera. With a squeeze of its shutter, a modest flash and the whirr of a printing polaroid, it was done. Rarity yanked the picture out of the camera and stared at it. You could clearly see that the water wasn't running.
She clutched it firmly in her forehooves and slid down the wall onto the cool tiles. Relief tinted with embarrassment and shame washed over her. She steadied her breathing, doing the proper exercises she had been shown and counting the inhale and exhale. She kept this up until she started to feel a little like herself once more.
Rarity got up off the floor of the en-suite and left her room, the shutting of her door behind sounded fuller and more final than it had before. It sounded complete. Most ponies wouldn't have been able to tell a difference, but Rarity could. She was grateful for that at times like this.
She went downstairs and placed the camera on the small table by the door. The photo was placed in her saddlebag in case she felt she wanted to look at it again. She usually didn't need to, but sometimes it made her feel better. Her friends never said anything either, they just pretended not to notice, something for which she was very grateful. Rarity put on her saddlebag and boots again. A slight smile danced on her face at that same note of finality she felt as she did it. She reached a forehoof out to the door.
But she stopped.
She'd taken a picture of the taps, and so she knew they weren't on. But she hadn't taken a picture of the box the candles were in. But it was enchanted by Twilight to not catch fire. You could put a ball of flaming newspaper in there and all that would happen was that the newspaper would go out. That's what Twilight had shown her after all.
But enchantments wore off.
And this was taken care of as well. Twilight had woven an additional enchantment into the box that would track the fireproofing enchantment. If it ever wore off, something that Twilight ensured her was vanishingly unlikely, the second spell would emit a loud alarm until Rarity silenced it with a codeword. The box had been silent, and was still silent, therefore it was still fireproof.
But enchantments wore off.
What if the monitoring enchantment wore off before the fireproofing enchantment? Twilight had told her that the monitoring enchantment was passive and the fireproofing one active. In less academic speak, the monitor fed off the magic of the initial enchantment and therefore couldn't wear off before. It had never gone off though, they'd never tested it. They'd would have had to cancel the first one which would have meant starting the whole process again.
Rarity had told Twilight not to, because then she'd worry the second set-up had been done wrong, or that it hadn't been cast right. She could have been there all night while Twilight enchanted the box over and over and over just one more time to show Rarity that it really worked and that this time she could really just believe that the box couldn't catch fire.
But they'd never tested it the alarm.
I get back from Sugarcube corner and the whole boutique is on fire and nothing is left and I have nothing and there's nothing I-
Rarity slumped to the ground. Her hooves trembled while she gripped the sides of her head and scrunched her eyes tightly.
-and I sift through the wreckage and my dresses are gone and my business is gone and my home is gone and-
She wrenched off her saddlebags and kicked off her boots. In the fray the polaroid fell out in front of her and Rarity glared at it with unrestrained, vitriolic hatred. She shredded it with a thought and then turned to the camera, which she grabbed and threw as hard as she could. She knew it wouldn't break, all it did was put another embarrassing mark on her wall she'd have to lie about. Rarity was well aware she'd be relieved later that the reinforced camera was unharmed, but right now it just made her feel even more pathetic.
-and this is my home and it's gone I built all this from nothing at all and I ruined it and what if Sweetie Belle came over without knowing and I found her in the ruins and she's burned and I could have stopped it why didn't I stop it why didn't I JUST CHECK THE CANDLEBOX-
Rarity screamed and slammed her hoof down on the ground. Silenced reigned. She looked around her home. Her boots were lying here and there, her saddlebag was in a heap, the camera was on the floor. Some ponies would call this a mild mess but to Rarity it was like a bombsite.
She sniffled, before wiping her damp eyes. She wasn't doing so well at the minute. But that was okay, maybe she'd do better tomorrow. She'd gotten ready so she could be early to Sugarcube Corner. She wanted to make sure they got their favourite table, the one by the bay window, and ordered everyone's favourite drinks for them. She and Fluttershy would have a herbal tea, Pinkie and Rainbow would both have cola, Twilight would have normal tea but with milk and a fair few sugars, and of course Applejack would have apple juice
But the problem still remained, she wasn't completely sure that the box was secure. Even though it would have set the bed on fire at this point, even if she'd have been able to see the smoke, even if she remembered all the times she'd gone back to those candles. Rarity knew full well the candles weren't lit and therefore the box wasn't on fire. And she knew that the box was enchanted to stop fire anyway so it wouldn't have mattered.
But even though Rarity knew all of this, she didn't know, and sadly that meant she knew what was going to happen very shortly. Because even if it was stupid, surely it was more stupid to leave the house if you weren't totally, 100%, beyond a shadow of a doubt sure.
She'd been so looking forward to today. Her friends wouldn't be angry, but she was angry. She was angry because she hated missing out for something so unnecessary, she hated wasted potential, and she certainly hated not getting to have a slice of red velvet cake.
She wondered whether her friends would come over when she was late. They'd ask if she was okay, and she'd lie and say that she was. They'd know she was lying, but it wouldn't matter because it wouldn't be the real conversation, that one would be done without words. It was the one where'd she tell them she was struggling and they'd say how she wasn't alone and it would happen while they were chattering away about the weather or something else banal.
And no-one would judge. Maybe some hadn't always understood, but they'd never once judged. Rarity was grateful for that because, sat here in understated mess, she supposed she looked pretty ridiculous. In spite of herself, she laughed at the thought. She dabbed the last of the moisture from her eyes and got up.
Then she scooped up her camera, turned, and went upstairs again.