Lost and Found
By the time Twilight Sparkle had finally reached Carousel Boutique, the flames had burned down to a crisp amber glow that cast shadows on the nearby houses.
She skidded to a halt and stood rooted. The acrid taste of bile clawed at her throat as she fought the bite of smoke that stung her eyes and choked the nightly air. Blood pounded in her ears, covering most of the hushed whispers and concerned gossip coming from the crowd gathered behind a long firefighters’ cordon. A shared sense of bewilderment turned some to nervous laughter, and each muffled voice was yet another nail in Twilight’s heart.
She spun around, eyeing the crowd for a familiar purple mane, likely shining with crimson hues in the firelight. She met Lyra’s eyes, who motioned with a flick of her chin further down the sidewalk.
And there was Rarity.
She sat hunched on the pavement, her back resting against Ponyville’s only firetruck. The glossy red paint highlighted her starkly white fur, now matted with soot. Isolated, in the lingering heat of the blaze, Rarity stared empty-eyed at her hooves, seemingly unaware of anything going on around her. The fire’s sickly orange threw shades that blended with the dark runnings of her makeup.
Twilight ducked under her side of the cordon and galloped past the two fireponies who tried blocking her. She rushed over to her dear friend and laid a knee to the dirt.
“Rarity, I’m so glad you’re okay,” she whispered, the sting in her eyes caused by either ashes or welling tears—she couldn’t tell.
Hearing no reply, Twilight sat by Rarity’s side and quickly settled with her wing wrapped around Rarity's trembling shoulders. She brought her closer, where her own warmth would replace the fire’s biting heat.
A ragged breath escaped Rarity’s lips as she snapped out of her stupor. She looked around, her dizzy eyes settling upon Twilight’s feather tips. She coughed, struggled to work her jaw into a smile, and hesitated before glancing up at Twilight. After a momentary stare, Rarity nodded and laid her muzzle against her friend’s neck.
“You smell nice today,” Rarity croaked.
Twilight smiled. She always wore the same lavender perfume. “I'm sorry I couldn't get here faster,” she whispered, dragging Rarity closer. “It’s a sad day for everypony in town, and for fashion everywhere.”
Rarity ruffled her hoof under Twilight’s wing and brought it to her face where she rubbed first at the dark bags sagging under her eyes, then at the traces of soot and threads of mascara that tagged her cheeks.
“It’s okay, Twilight. It was just a little cooking accident,” Rarity said, followed by a faint tut-tut, a soft sniffle, and a hoofwave. “Everything can be rebuilt, darling. I’m an entrepreneur. I fail. I compensate. I get back up. Threads will be spun, clothing sown, défilés performed.”
The sound of crashing wood stole their attention. The Boutique’s small cupola had torn through the masonry and now lay shattered and smoking in the wreck of the shop’s first floor. Those windows that hadn’t cracked into shards lay half-melted, spilling out onto the splintered floor. Burnt motes of destroyed fabric and design papers flitted about in the nightly breeze, catching upon the legs of the spectating crowd.
Despite the arching rain coming from the fireponies’ hoses, the radiating heat still struck Twilight’s face. Each steaming, blackened lintel or log popped under the soaking water. Their undersides peeled away with white-hot ember scabs.
“What’s your total loss—I mean… Will you be able to replace it?” Twilight said, fighting the dry knot in her throat. “All your designs and materials...”
“Insurance will cover it, I hope. Maybe they won’t. At this moment, I don’t think I really care about the trivia of accounting.” Rarity sucked a breath through her clenched teeth and latched onto Twilight. She shifted closer. “I feel cold.”
Twilight hugged her tightly with both hooves and wings. “If you want a hug, just tell me,” Twilight whispered, a warm smile on her muzzle.
Rarity looked into Twilight’s eyes, nodded, and laid her head again against her breast. Sitting still, they watched the fire gurgle its death rattle in a cloud of steam and ash.
“I’ll miss your messages,” Rarity mumbled, turning to Twilight with tears glimmering in the corners of her eyes.
“My messages?”
“Every sweet letter you wrote. All those caring notes you left on my desk or sent to me by mail when you were away. So many gifts, the books with your kind words on the inside of the front cover… I kept them all safe on my bookshelves, by my bed.” Her breath drew long and erratic, and she looked up at the empty space where her second-floor room once stood. Only smoke filled the air now. “Or at least, I thought so. They’re gone now. The testimony of our friendship and more, oh, so much more... something I could always go back to. It’s all gone now.”
Twilight’s warm breath carried through Rarity’s singed mane and across her cheek. No words came.
Twilight’s mind raced to fill that silence Rarity so often dreaded like an irreparable crack in her bravado. Twilight closed her eyes to think, race against the dramatic bout Rarity only could muster. Her heart sank as Rarity’s chest puffed up against hers.
“You know words and papers can’t replace this,” Twilight said with a hesitantly teasing tone, and she pressed a wing against Rarity’s side as she lowered to meet her gaze.
As Twilight’s lips departed, leaving a kiss on a soot-encrusted cheek, Rarity’s face brightened redder than the last glow of the fire. The tension in her back weakened at the tip of Twilight’s feathers, her shoulders sagged, and she leaned further against her lover.
A storm of emotion was lighting Rarity’s cheeks and she spread her lips into a smile, kindling warmth in Twilight’s heart. Rarity giggled, buried her face into Twilight’s coat, sniffed, and sobbed softly while Twilight’s wing held her tight.
The drumming of Twilight’s heart was coming through the warmth of her coat. Powerful and deep. A rhythm she knew Rarity had learned like a favorite melody set on repeat. Rarity kept her hooves around Twilight’s waist, as tight as she could without hurting her.
“You must have left with something,” Twilight said, wondering.
Rarity lifted her head and peered from under Twilight’s wing.
“I mean,” Twilight continued, “I wouldn’t call you a materialistic pony, but I know you’ve got your priorities. So, you... must have saved something.”
“I did,” Rarity said. A painful smile highlighted the creases around her eyes—those wrinkles she unremittingly worked to erase every day.
She took an uneven breath, pushed Twilight’s wing away, and searched the area. After a moment, she nodded to herself and pointed at a tiny shadow hiding beneath one of the nearby trees the fire hadn’t grown large enough to catch. “I saved the most important thing.”
Rarity stood up and helped Twilight to her haunches. They dusted off the ashes that’d snowed on her wings and glanced one last time at the black skeleton that was once Carousel Boutique.
A small white unicorn sat by the tree, tears streaming from her olive-green eyes. She’d have pulled away but Rarity snagged her in a hug.
“I– I’m so sorry, Rarity,” Sweetie Belle cried with shivers running down her spine. “I shouldn’t have.”
“It’s fine, Sweetie. I’m not blaming you,” Rarity whispered. She looked up and shared a close-lipped, weary smile with Twilight who joined in the embrace. “It’s not your fault. All that matters is we’re here.”