> All The Little Rings
>  by Nines
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

> Alternate Perspectives
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


A Man Said to the Universe
By Stephen Crane

A man said to the universe:
"Sir, I exist!"
"However," replied the universe,
"The fact has not created in me
A sense of obligation."








Some days bit into her like a vicious dog. 

She’d let the sun’s fangs sink deep, burning and relentless, and hang limp in the world’s wide mouth. Another chewed up morsel. The grind of tasks reduced her to a shriveled nothing. Yet with every nightly death of her soul, she would awaken to the same day... over and over. Each day chewed on, the same grinding “could-nots” masticating her into the mold of painful sameness.

You could not cancel on clients for listlessness. You could not stave off bills with tears. You could not stitch a smile onto her face if you tried.

Today?  Well… It was her one day off.

Rarity gazed out the window of her gossip nook, her body languidly draped over a pink seat pillow as she sipped on black coffee. It was a brew from Saddle Arabia. Not that this exquisite export could do anything to stir her out of her ennui. 

Perhaps the flesh could be willing for a spirit that would not. The caffeine was what really interested her. If there was even a small chance that this day could see a rise in her spirit, then why not bet on a strong foreign brew to get it started? Her lip curled a little at the thought.

Still drifting along the rails, I see.

A smaller voice answered.

What else am I to do? Stare at the walls like some dullard? These endless tracks are all I know.

Her consternation with herself lessened to the certainty sewn from a weary ambiguity.

None of it matters anyway.

Had she thought the day off a blessing? She had no real plans for the day, and that meant it might as well be empty. She had no intention of cooking—her appetite had gone missing weeks ago. 

Leaving the house is always an option, she supposed with a little yawn. Get out of the oppressive stuffiness of failure. She could visit with friends, shop for new accessories, or just enjoy a nice brisk walk in the fresh air. 

Or maybe she could run away to live as a mountain hermit? Not in a cave, heavens no. A quaint cabin. She could bring her black cloak of shame and woe. She could even try a hoof at poetry.

Roses are red, violets are blue,
My inspiration is dead,
And I wish I were too.

Maybe no poetry, then.

If it really came to it, she was fairly certain she could braid a very fetching noose from silk fabric.

Of course, she had no intention of following that last thread. At least... mostly. Usually. 

These days her sense of humor (if one could call it that) had taken quite a ghoulish turn. She never smiled or laughed, but felt a wicked stirring of amusement. Like barbs she plucked from her hide, only to plunge them back in elsewhere.

It never lingered. Little chats with wit that couldn’t even stay for tea. The numb desolation that curled tight in her didn’t like mirth as a guest.

She supposed what she was experiencing was part of the ups and downs that regularly assailed her creative mind like a ghost returning to an old manor for holiday. Past causes varied with every gloomy wave. 

Once a customer let a cruel comment slip about her work. A few times her sales had been down across her businesses. Then, of course, there were always those bothersome setbacks with a new project. 

In many ways, it had all been rather controllable. Like living with the feast and famine of a flooding river. These lows had typically lasted anything from a mere day to a week at most.

This latest depression had begun over a month ago.

And all because of one inscrutable customer.

Rarity’s eyes narrowed, and she turned away from the window, her eyes piercing to the dark reaches of her boutique.

That mare...

A dark-gray unicorn with green eyes that lanced cleanly through you. Rarity had worked for many intimidating clients, but this mare—Cold Moon… She was perhaps the worst.

After slaving over a difficult evening gown with ruby studded shoulders and a sequined train for weeks, she’d been on pins and needles to give it to her commissioner. The dress design had pushed Rarity’s skills in ways she seldom experienced outside of her work for celebrities. She didn’t know who Cold Moon was to be making such a request, but given Moon’s lack of hesitation at the costs of ordering the dress, Rarity was willing to bet she was a wealthy politician of some sort. 

Though... during the initial measuring, her attempts at finding out through friendly conversation had been met with chilled, stony silence.

Completing the dress had been a release—and a horror. Rarity had no idea how Cold Moon would react. When that day came, her fur had glistened with sweat just thinking about it. Then Moon was there… And Rarity received nothing. 

Nothing!

Oh, but she had been paid of course—in bits. Did the mare simply not understand how vital feedback—verbal or otherwise—was to the process? Money was not sufficient currency for an artist! 

If money was all she’d needed, she’d still be strapped into a chair for Sassy Saddles making the same bloody dresses time and again. She thirsted for sincere affirmation… or even condemnation would be preferable! Anything but that damned ringing silence!

Cold Moon, the ruiner of her creative soul, had looked at the dress, just once. Then, with nary a word or even expression, had levitated her payment onto the counter, and left. Simple as that.

Only it hadn’t been simple. It had been devastating.

Rarity hadn’t been sure how to process such a brusque transaction. She had even attempted to interpret the moment of exchange.  Much like... like a scholar would interpret a famous piece of poetry.

Had the lack of eye contact been a sort of admonishment? How hard had the bits landed onto the counter? Did the mare leisurely amble to the door, or could one argue it was a haughty trot?

She went over the details of her work, gazing at her design sketches, and reviewing all the materials she’d made use of. Had she measured enough fabric? Which stitch technique had she used on the collar? Perhaps the ruby studs had been overkill!

In a moment of desperation, she’d even chanced to send a letter to Moon, attempting to wheedle out any opinion she may have about the dress.

The letter went unanswered.

It was all for nothing.

Crushed under this immovable mystery, Rarity succumbed to sorrow to rival all past sorrows. It wasn’t wailing. It wasn’t whining.

It was… as cold and as silent as her mysterious customer had been. She was aware it was quite unlike her, to be so muted in her suffering, but the experience had presented her mind with a harrowing thought. One she could not let go, and it siphoned meaning from every aspect of her life. 

Short of feeling outright suicidal, she had no clear idea why she kept waking up every morning.

Rarity made herself move because the world did not stop, but her hooves felt heavy. She made herself sew because there were still orders to be filled, but her heart simply was not in it. She spoke when it was necessary, but it left her feeling weary.

There is no point to any of this bloody mess.

On this day, her day off, she’d hoped to find some reprieve from her hollow new existence. Surely there was something out there that could still evoke a positive feeling? Some of her friends had tried, bless them.

Pinkie Pie had visited with a fresh batch of cupcakes. Fluttershy had sat in for tea. Applejack and Rainbow had dragged her outside for a picnic in the sun.

Dear Little Spike had even brought her a new gemstone he’d found with Maud—taaffeite, he’d said it was called. He’d had it cut and polished and presented it to her with a bashful grin. She thanked him with a kiss to the forehead, but the gem had sat glinting on her worktable ever since.

She stared at it, some nights, sullen that the language of splendor had gone silent in her heart. Its unique shade of mauve was just that—another color. Another glittering rock to join all the other glittering rocks.

I must be mad. A month ago I would have been ecstatic to have such a piece.

But she was not the same mare she was a month ago. Indeed, she was not the same mare she was yesterday, or the day before that. 

If each passing moment was a granule of sand passing through an hourglass, Rarity had suffered through a great many versions of herself with painful awareness. 

Time was funny that way. It stretched their every consideration—dreams, fears, and the reality that held them—all whilst condensing, like boulders, choice ripe moments that weighed on the mind. 

Her realizations from the moment Cold Moon had left with her last sincere piece of work, to the present moment there in her nook, had transformed her. To everyone else, the change had been stark and swift.

To her, the hollowing had felt like an eternity. 

There was a knock at the door, jostling her out of her reverie. Rarity set down her coffee cup on a side stand and rose from her seat. As she approached the door, her magic turned the knob and opened it a sliver, the sunlight slicing over her shadowed form in one searing band. 

Standing on the other side was a frowning Twilight Sparkle. Her wings had twitched open just a few inches upon seeing Rarity through the crack, brow furrowed with her usual concentration. When the door creaked all the way open, Twilight’s head lifted as her eyes did a quick once-over.

After a beat of what felt suspiciously like stunned silence, she spoke.

“Rarity, I’m worried about you.” Not even a hello. Her concern must have run deep. Very deep.

Worried tension had now appeared about Twilight’s eyes, and they had even taken on a sudden watery gleam. This small but critical change suggested to Rarity of a fear confirmed—but whatever the blazes this fear could be was beyond her.

Rarity sighed. Twilight’s arrival was bound to happen eventually, she supposed. A certain inevitability when one is the friend of the literal Princess of Friendship. She wondered who it was that voiced their concern to Twilight first. 

Pinkie had been the first to notice Rarity’s new brand of depression... but she had always taken a certain personal responsibility for her friends’ happiness. No doubt she was planning a much grander scheme to get Rarity to smile once more, and would only have spoken had this next step failed. Applejack and Rainbow likely had faith she’d “snap out of it” and hadn’t said a word yet. So... 

It was most certainly either Spike or Fluttershy. If she had to guess? ...Fluttershy. Despite his precociousness, Spike never did seem to think straight after she pecked his scales.

“Rarity?”

Rarity looked up with a start to see the tension around Twilight’s eyes had deepened. 

Blast. I drifted off.

“Apologies, darling.” She stepped aside, holding the door open wider. The sun’s glow reached deep into the shadows of her boutique. “Please, do join me. I was just enjoying some coffee in my nook.” Then she added as an afterthought, “I beg you to pardon the gloom. I find this ambiance agreeable as of late.”

We may as well see what tactic our dear Twilight shall employ to lift our spirits, Rarity. It isn’t as if you weren’t just sitting in your nook wondering what you could do to feel something. Any bloody thing.

Twilight’s amethyst eyes searched Rarity’s blank face. Rarity wondered exactly what it was Twilight hoped to find.  For herself, Rarity wasn’t certain there was anything to find.

When her expression failed to change, Twilight shook her head and trotted inside.

Rarity shut the door and followed her friend through the darkened boutique floor to the window-lit gossip nook, but did not take a seat. Instead, she asked. “May I get you anything, my dear?”

Twilight was looking around at their somber surroundings. Her wings remained partially extended in a classic alert posture.

She glanced at Rarity and flashed a smile. A small one. “I’d love a glass of water.”

Rarity gave a single nod and went to the kitchen, her horn lighting up as she levitated a glass to her sink and turned the faucet on. It sounded so loud in the quiet space. She eyed the counter. It had a fine layer of dust. 

She wasn’t cooking these days. She wasn’t in the mood for eating much, after all. And cleaning? She only had enough energy to keep the boutique space presentable.

As the glass filled, she felt her friend’s eyes on her. Evaluating her. She felt a small tick of annoyance but stuffed it down. 

It was one of the few emotions that still cropped up with any notable presence, apart from the grisly humor. It had much the same barbs to it, but at least the latter didn’t run the risk of hurting her friends. She needed to keep her patience for what was surely going to be a very well-meaning conversation.

A short moment later and Twilight’s drink was at her side, the sunlight glittering through it. She murmured her thanks as Rarity settled back onto her seat pillow.

Twilight didn’t even look at her drink. “Rarity, your habits lately have become worrisome.” She sat with her back straight, and her head raised. The posture seemed vaguely familiar...

Rarity actually smirked. Briefly. “I am aware, darling.”

“The others were starting to become concerned. I would have been here sooner but—”

“The world marches on, Twilight. I wouldn’t expect royalty to drop matters of import for the whim of my moods.”

“You’re just as important as my court duties. In fact, I—” Twilight chewed her lip, her wings adjusting on her long graceful back. 

Rarity eyed this fidget with an arched eyebrow. Within a few years, Twilight would no doubt grow taller and slimmer, all thanks to her ascension. Rarity had already had to adjust her measurements for her regal friend since she’d gained her wings. 

In ten years, in twenty—what would she look like then?

Rarity blinked, trying to imagine it.

It was sort of titillating, actually. All the princesses were quite beautiful in their tall svelte forms. But Rarity was of the opinion that Twilight Sparkle would have something the other princesses failed to have.

Energy.

It made her think of the secretive deer folk and their curious grace. Their movements were light and smooth, but always trembling somehow.  Perhaps a product of their ancestors’ high prey instinct?  In motion and stillness, they were always ready to bound away from danger.

In Twilight’s case, it wouldn’t be so much fear as the tumult of an eager mind. Always ready to learn. Always ready to discover.

When Rarity tuned back in, she was chagrined to find that Twilight had already resumed speaking—and had been for some time now.

“—how they are, I just want to get a sense of how you’re feeling. I know sometimes you have, er, episodes of depression, but they aren’t usually this long! And certainly not like this!”

“Like what, dear?” Rarity asked with a tilt of the head.

Twilight pouted, pushing her hooves into her seat. “You know what. You’ve been withdrawn, quiet, and distracted for weeks!”

Rarity hummed, taking another sip of coffee. “Mmm, yes. Quite. I suppose I have been.”

Twilight slouched a little, her forehead wrinkling in dismay. “Rarity, did you hear anything I was saying?” Her lips tightened. “I know that you haven’t been eating!”

Oh, bother. I’d hoped we’d somehow avoid this particular track...

Rarity pushed out her lower lip and flirted her eyelashes. “Tut, tut, Twilight. A girl’s diet is hardly polite conversation.”

A snort. “Then this isn’t a polite conversation!”

Rarity’s eyes narrowed. “Clearly.”

Twilight’s ears flicked, hard. “Rarity, I don’t much appreciate this coy attitude of yours.” Her chin jutted forth, and for a moment, Rarity saw the same stubborn perfectionist who was managing the Summer Sun Celebration. Had it really been so long ago?

“If you would take a moment to think about it,” Rarity began with a gentle flop of her tail, “you would see that being coy is the only acceptable response to this gauche attempt at sussing out what I am going through.” The words came out harsher than Rarity had meant to. She felt a little guilty for it.

Twilight was worried. Of course she was. Why wouldn’t she be? Her friend had been replaced by some stony-faced golem who (unbeknownst to anyone) routinely resorted to gallows humor in an attempt to cheer herself up. Maybe it really would be better if she swung.

The littlest smile flared on her lips as she revisited her idea of a silk noose.

A powerful accessory, to be sure! What color would mine be? Certainly not black. Sky blue?

“Rarity?”

She looked at Twilight Sparkle with a start. “Apologies,” she murmured. “I must have drifted off again.”

“I could see that,” Twilight said, her eyes now wide. They looked watery again. Tears of frustration? Fear? Rarity almost wanted to ask. 

Twilight pushed her hooves into her seat once more—though this time she looked like she was trying to incite her courage rather than channel some aggression. “You aren’t… taking something, are you?” she asked haltingly.

Rarity resisted the urge to roll her eyes. “No.”

Twilight leaned in, blinking studiously. “Are you feeling unwell?”

Rarity leaned away from her, her muzzle wrinkling. “No. Twilight, forgive me, but I’m finding this line of questioning rather tiresome!”

Twilight sat back and arched a brow. “I’m just trying to rule things out.”

Rarity tossed her hair and exhaled roughly. “Well, now that you have ruled out substance effects and illness, I suppose you have some nugget of wisdom regarding ‘friendship’ you’d like to impart next?” She wasn’t sure why she was getting catty now. Hadn’t she wanted Twilight’s help?

The ‘Rarity’ of a few moments ago had. Where was she?

Twilight sighed. “I have no advice.”

“No?”

“No.” Twilight’s lips puckered. “As I told you, if you were even listening, was that I’d like to hear what you’re thinking. What you’re feeling!”

“Truly?” Rarity pretended to brighten, her eyes widening and a saccharine smile spreading across her lips. 

It was too late; the barbs were out.

“How refreshing! And in the midst of my woeful tale, will you be taking notes? Very well, then let us start.” She placed a hoof across her brow and looked up. “It all began when I was but a filly under the cruel tyranny of my progenitors—”

Twilight’s wings ruffled and she drew herself taller.

Rarity broke off as she remembered where the posture came from now. The ice surrounding her soul grew more chill, reaching along her spine. It was the same air Twilight adopted whenever she had to deal with the recalcitrant Discord.

When the princess spoke, her words were clipped. “Rarity, underneath all that haughty deflection, I’m sure you still remember that I am your friend, I do care, and I want to hear your side of things instead of just trying to smear a salve over whatever’s bothering you!”

Twilight jabbed a hoof toward the window, her nostrils flaring. “That clearly hasn’t worked for the others, and if you haven’t noticed, I’m not one to dwell on the ineffectual! So if I must, I will wait for you to run out of barbed comments and sarcastic asides until you realize—” and here her expression softened, “I mean what I say!”

Rarity let out a little huff and turned her face away. “You may find yourself waiting for a long time.”

“My second element may as well be patience because I’m not going anywhere, sister.” Twilight crossed her forelegs. Whenever she did this with Discord, it usually meant a last stand.

The unicorn felt something give.

“Oh for the love of— It. Is. Nothing!” The words ripped out of Rarity like a tiger’s swiping claws. “Nothing troubles me, Twilight Sparkle! I am kept awake at night by the void!” 

She waved at herself like one would wave at a fashion plagiarizer—an uninspired echo, a parasite, that failed even the basest flattery in denying hard-earned credit. Just a copy, of a copy, of a copy. “I am filled with emptiness! Do you know that nothing I do matters? Nothing we do matters?” 

Rarity scoffed as she brushed her mane back with a vicious stroke. “I mean really, what is the point? I, for one, make clothing for ponies who wear them, lovingly, for a season, or even a single event, and then it’s on to the next thing.” 

She shook her head, glaring toward the boutique floor, her art hidden in the shadows. “All that work abandoned. Discarded. It’s rather ruthless! I vanish with each silly garment I complete. I vanish, Twilight Sparkle.” 

Rarity’s lip curled, her eyes narrowing as she leaned in just a breath toward Twilight. “And so, I say, it is Nothing that troubles me. Nothing and Everything, all at once.” 

A proverbial gauntlet thrown between them. She half-hoped Twilight would regret even asking.

Rarity sat back, her body melting down to her cushion. That had been… exhausting. The rage had come suddenly. Viciously. It was honestly the most she’d felt all month. It left her feeling raw, like a wound that had been ripped open. 

Of course. From emptiness to boiling negativity—Rarity almost wished for the numbness to come back.

And still, her ire spiked at Twilight’s low whistle.

“Nothing, huh? Mm. I can see what the problem is, then.”

Rarity stared at her friend, who was now rubbing her chin with a hoof.

“You can see the problem?” Rarity asked with prim frustration. “Is that so?” 

Twilight glanced at her, stirred out of deep thought. “Hmm?” Her eyes widened and a hesitant smile crossed her lips. “Oh! Yes. Now that you’ve finally said something, we can start to deal with it. Together.”

Rarity’s horn flared harshly as she levitated the coffee cup to her. Halfway to her lips, she set it sloshing back onto the side table. “Twilight, forgive me... I really need you to explain. How is it that you’ve come to understand my latest melancholy? Because I feel as though I’ve barely grasped it enough to put it into words!”

Twilight squinted one eye. “I didn’t say I ‘understand’ it. I said, I can see what the problem is. Do you wanna hear what stood out to me?” Another flash of that friendly smile. There really ought to be laws about blinding others with such radiance.

Rarity secretly hoped the logic that no doubt drove her friend’s reasoning was not so maddeningly simple as to make the unicorn feel like a fool. Even if Rarity was painted as a complex beast, it would be a far better thing than to be revealed as a basic beast.

Bitterness and hope drove her. “Very well, Twilight Sparkle. Let us hear what your brilliant mind has to offer!”

With a great inhale, Twilight sank down into a comfortable lying position on her pillow. “Let’s see… Well, from what I understand, you’re feeling dysphoria from your work, such that you’ve never felt before.” 

She gestured around the boutique space. “It’s seeped into every facet of your life.” Twilight looked at Rarity, her eyes alight with familiar affection. Her wings flexed, the smooth feathers shivering once as her wing limbs stretched, then slid back against her back, sleeker somehow.

“It’s disturbing to you,” she went on, as if the words had just come to her, “because your passion for fashion has been so closely tied to how you understand yourself that this disconnect has caused, not just an identity crisis, but also a deep melancholy about existence.” 

Twilight’s brow furrowed. That worried tension returned to her gaze. “Your focus on the idea of ‘vanishing’ with each project you complete was particularly interesting.” 

Thoughtful, she tapped her chin with her hoof, then looked at Rarity sidelong. “Did you complete a project, then not receive any feedback about it? Not so much as a smile or frown?”

Rarity stared at her. After a long moment, she gave one nod.

Twilight let a pursed smile flash across her muzzle. “Ah, yes, that’d do it. In your line of work, feedback is enmeshed in the process.” 

She motioned with her hooves like she were trailing them over one defined box to another. “You complete a unique outfit, bring it to the customer, and instantly you get a sense of what they feel about it.” 

Twilight bobbed her head and turned over a hoof, her tone lightening as she made an addendum: “And even if you aren’t there to present it personally, Sassy Saddles and Miss Pommel always inform you of how a piece or outfit was received upon sale.” 

Her brow furrowed again, and she wagged a hoof at nothing in particular. “For the first time,” Twilight continued, “you found a creature who was good at hiding how they felt.” 

Rarity watched her friend’s unconscious actions with great fascination— Twilight in the throes of a thought track was like watching a conductor lead an orchestra.

“You met somepony who didn’t feel any sense of obligation to let you know what they thought of your work, even when you were standing right in front of them. That must have been difficult!” Twilight finished, settling back onto her cushion with a little sigh and a shake of the head.

“It was awful. It was as though I didn’t even exist.” Rarity’s voice sounded small to her.

“I’m so sorry that you experienced that,” Twilight gave a sympathetic nod. “Can you tell me what happened after that moment?”

Rarity’s brow tensed in thought. “I… tried to find meaning where I could. How the mare paid me. How she walked away. I looked to my work and wondered if I could find a way to see what she saw—”

“But of course you couldn’t do that because you didn’t know this mare. You had no point of reference.”

“Yes.” Rarity took another sip of her coffee, letting the cup levitate in front of her instead of setting it back on the side stand. She saw her expression in the black liquid. She didn’t like how she looked. 

She remembered herself as perfection. This reflection showed symmetry, and her hair and makeup were neat she supposed… but it was like her appearance lacked any kind of luster. She really was a plagiarization. Just a copy, of a copy, of a copy—

“If I had to guess, that must have felt disorienting. Disturbing even. You were trying to make sense of indifference,” Twilight went on. Her voice had turned soft and coaxing. “I really am sorry.”

Rarity set her cup down and looked at Twilight. Her eyes were starting to mist with tears. Even as they came, she felt no release. Just a deeper sense of hollowness. It almost left her feeling ill. “I even sent a letter to the customer, hoping I could hear her thoughts after the fact.”

“They didn’t reply, did they?”

“No.”

Twilight sighed. For the first time since entering, her aura took hold of the glass of water and she levitated it to her lips. After a small sip, she murmured, almost thoughtfully: “You found the ‘indifferent universe’.”

“Pardon?”

“It’s a philosophical concept. An equinomorphizing of the universe.” Twilight gestured idly with a hoof as her magic set her glass back down. Her eyes narrowed as she made the effort to paraphrase what was no doubt a far more complicated topic. 

“If the universe is ‘indifferent’ then that implies it feels things, and because it feels things this separates equines and other intelligent creatures as simply divine onlookers.” 

Twilight gestured between them. “We operate under certain moral understandings of how existence operates, but the universe has no sense of these things, and it has no obligation to make us understand its machinations. This causes a kind of… discordant relationship.” 

She pointed at Rarity. “Your experience with the silent customer has certain parallels to this concept.” She held up one hoof. “You expected something vital to your work, your identity, and your existence,” she held up another hoof. “And she not only failed to share these expectations but had zero concerns about them at all. She could even have been unaware of them entirely.” 

Twilight pressed her hooves together. “That is the ‘indifferent universe’.”

“After some wine, that was hardly what I was calling her,” Rarity muttered. She drained her coffee cup, a little embarrassed by the admission. Such thinking was hardly appropriate—

Twilight laughed, making the unicorn’s ears quiver with surprise.

It was a nice sound. She’d always thought so, but she rarely got to hear the alicorn laugh when it was just the two of them. Usually, the sound was joined by someone else’s voice, muddling it. Alone it was… very nice.

Twilight was still chuckling a little when she spoke: “I can certainly understand the frustration!” Her aura picked up her glass again and she swirled the water. “We want so much to feel like our lives have meaning—right down to the mundane. Lots of creatures feel what you’re feeling right now, Rarity. You’re just feeling it acutely because of how it started.” 

She set the glass back down, the small water tunnel she’d made vanishing with a spread of bubbles. “A traumatic event, like death or sudden home loss, can be an intense experience that gets creatures asking all sorts of questions about existence and their own personal meaning.

“But after recovering from the traumatic event itself,” Twilight explained earnestly, “These questions tend to go away. In your case, it started from what essentially makes up your day-to-day life.” 

Twilight shrugged, her expression a mixture of sympathy and encouragement. “It’s understandable that this would be difficult to wrestle with under those circumstances. After all, how does one ‘overcome’ your average existence?

“You should know, though—that isn’t the only way of looking at things.” Twilight cocked her head to the side and smiled, her mane spilling over her shoulder. “It might be a good idea to consider other angles.”

Rarity blinked. “Angles on what?”

“Life. Meaning. Whatever is most concerning you right now.”

Rarity hummed. “Well… If we are to discuss what concerns me most at this very moment, it’s—” her eyes fluttered. She cleared her throat and looked away. “It will sound silly.”

Twilight’s lips pressed together. Her voice was a gentle invitation: “Rarity, I wanted to hear what you’re thinking, remember? I’m not going to judge you.”

“Oh, Twilight… If I could only believe that.” Rarity shook her head. “I sound mad, even to myself!”

She heard a rustling, then Twilight’s hoof was touching hers. She looked at the alicorn, and blushed. Twilight was leaning in very close, much closer than before. Her eyes were lidded with patient affection.

“Try me,” Twilight said. Almost murmured.

Odd, how Rarity had failed to notice how long and thick her friend’s eyelashes were. They simply couldn’t be false. They framed her rich amethyst eyes exquisitely. Rarity felt a spark of envy, and… something else. She turned her eyes down, unable to hold her friend’s gaze. She felt warm all of a sudden.

“After that ordeal with the customer, I began to feel distant from my work,” Rarity began quietly. “It was disquieting, how easily I was separated from a lifelong pursuit. I seemed to keep making these dismal observations, and none of my usual methods of coping worked because they fell prey to the same dreary lens.” 

She gave a little shake of her head, her indigo curls swaying. Whether she did it from frustration or disgust with herself, she couldn’t tell.

“As time went on, I felt more and more disconnected, to the point that the mare of yesterday seemed hardly the same as the one I looked at in the mirror. And then it hit me…”

She took a deep breath. It felt painful. “We change.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and oppressive. She sagged under the weight of it. “We change with each passing moment. That’s when it all broke for me.” 

Rarity’s eyes filled with tears and her voice became choked. The wound in her was tearing wide, gushing— “Twilight, I have let myself transform far beyond anything I can understand, but I have little hope of returning to being the mare I seem to remember. The one everyone seems to remember.” 

A sob broke free, and she gasped, pressing the back of her free hoof to her lips. Her chin trembled. She shook her head again, this time to deny the tears. She needed to finish what she’d started now. She needed the wound to flush clean.

While Rarity gathered herself, Twilight didn’t move. Didn’t speak. The unicorn could feel the space being given to her to feel everything, and overcome everything, in her own time— and still her friend’s hoof would not move from hers. The constant contact was reassuring. When was the last time Rarity had felt reassured?

When she lowered her hoof, she tried again, her voice a weak quaver. “I feel lost, and hopeless, and I suppose guilty in a way, because my friends expect to find ‘Rarity’, and all that’s in her place is a stranger.”

Twilight scooted closer till they were both sitting on the same pillow, flanks touching. Rarity shivered a little as her companion slid her wing over her back. Her primary feathers tickled.

“Rarity,” she said, “If I had known you were going through this, I would have dropped everything and come running!” 

Her wing flexed, then squeezed Rarity. With aching concern writ across her features, she breathed: “It hurts to see you like this, but not because you’re ‘not you’. You are still the Rarity I remember. You’re just hurting, and trying to understand something most ponies don't have the depth to fathom in the first place.”

“Hmph! If that is a compliment to my intelligence, I may as well fetch my silk noose now,” Rarity grumbled as she primly dabbed at her eyes and cheeks. 

It hadn’t been her intent, but the barbs struck them both deep in the telling.

Twilight’s expression went blank as she processed this remark. The corners of her lips twitched. Then she laughed, suddenly. It sounded almost as though it had punched up her throat, like she’d tried to contain it, but failed. More giggles came in its wake.

The wonderful sounds reverberated through the unicorn, tickling her every inch.

“I didn’t think you’d find that funny,” Rarity said with a little smile. She felt breathless.

Twilight grinned, still chuckling. “I mean, it is a bit grim, but only you would think of using silk for a noose!”

Rarity blushed, her smile turning slanted. “It’s more durable than some would think.”

Twilight’s grin waned. “I’m sure.”

“And I hadn’t decided on the color, actually.”

Twilight quieted, her eyes searching Rarity’s face. “Never pick a color,” she murmured after a long moment. She squeezed with her wing. “Promise?”

Rarity looked away. Another tick of annoyance nettled her. The silk noose was a farce! Not a real plan!

Not most days, anyway.

“I’m not sure what value a promise has when tomorrow I could wake to be a completely different mare,” Rarity murmured.

Silence. Then:

“Rarity, may I ask you something?”

A sigh. “Very well?” She looked at Twilight sidelong.

Twilight’s ears were pricked forward, her eyes wide with focused intent. “If someone took your thoughts, your values, and your memories, and swapped them with someone else’s, who would you believe was ‘you’? The body you used to have, or the body with everything your mind contained?”

Rarity arched an eyebrow. Reluctantly she turned to face her friend more fully. “I suppose the body that has everything my mind contains!”

Twilight’s lips showed hints of a smile at this. “And if you had to choose one body to be tortured, and the other to be given a million bits, which do you decide receives which?”

Rarity’s eyes went wide. “That is… quite a question!”

“But do you have an answer?”

“I… suppose I’d choose the body with my mind to be tortured.”

Twilight’s eyebrows rose, her features pulling down in what appeared to be surprise. “Why?”

“Because I’d hate to hurt someone else, of course!” Rarity looked at her, aghast. “I’d never do such a horrid thing to someone else! Especially when I can give them something wonderful instead!”

Twilight let these words sink in, her expression unchanging. Then she smiled slowly, her gaze turning lidded. “You are... such a good mare.” Before Rarity could process this, Twilight fluttered her wings and shook her hair, the body language of an alicorn inscrutable still. “Er, so! For you, the thing that makes you who you are has nothing to do with your body, correct?”

Rarity gave a pert little nod. “Correct.”

“So this disconnect from your identity… Just what do you feel of your ‘essential property’ has changed?”

One of Rarity’s ears drooped. “Come again?”

Twilight blushed a little, the hue a pretty mix with her lavender coat. “S-Sorry. I tend to wax academic the longer talks like this go.” She cleared her throat and tried again: “What parts of your mind has changed to cause you to feel like you’ve lost yourself?”

“Oh! Hmm.” Rarity puckered her lips. “Honestly, my lack of interest in things I once loved!”

“Like?”

“Gems.” Rarity sighed and waved a hoof in the direction of her bedroom, her forehead wrinkling. “Dear Little Spike gifted me a beautiful taaffeite recently, but I can’t seem to feel the least bit excited about it.”

Twilight hummed, looking at Rarity studiously.

Rarity slouched some under her wing—a habit she naturally tried to avoid, but when in the embrace of another, sometimes all one could do was sink.

Finally, the princess spoke. “Rarity, when Applejack is feeling stressed about applebuck season, would you say her attitude about farmwork changes tone?”

Rarity blinked. “Er, yes? I suppose?”

“But would you say that she no longer loves working on her farm?”

“Well I wouldn’t go that far—!”

“Then why do you think that just because you aren’t all that excited about the taaffeite right now, that means you no longer love gems?”

Rarity opened her mouth to respond, but snapped her mouth shut when she realized she wasn’t quite sure what to say. Then understanding started to trickle through the cracks.

Slowly, she said, “Twilight… are you perhaps suggesting that my ordeal is a matter of perspective?”

“I am.”

Rarity’s cheeks colored, her back tensing as the barbs pried at her hide. Well! A circuitous route to what boils down to a frustratingly simple matter! But… She relaxed a little as she let her eyes roam over Twilight’s relaxed, but thoughtful expression. Perhaps deceptively simple. Like a certain princess. 

I may be the bleeding beast at her hooves, but Twilight has made no efforts to slay my pride. I can… try to give her the benefit of the doubt before snapping.

And so the barbs stayed.

Twilight sighed, no doubt oblivious to her friend’s latest thoughts as she formulated a way to proceed. Her wing shifted on Rarity’s back, then squeezed again reflexively. It sent a pleasant shiver through the unicorn, making her eyes drop low.

Those feathers… They feel so nice.

“Consider this,” Twilight started, causing her companion to start with ears swiveled forward. “What medium would you say your mind is best represented by?”

Rarity’s eyes tensed. “Medium?”

Twilight thought for a moment, then she began to make slow circles with her hoof. “Like what if everything that makes you who you are isn’t a linear tapestry of tightly woven fabric, but rather…” Twilight scanned the boutique, her expression blanking with brief desperation. “Something strong! But easily changed—”

Rarity squinted one eye. “Like… armor?”

Twilight brightened and nodded eagerly. “Yes! Like armor.” Her wing shivered and stirred like she barely stopped herself from wacking Rarity in the back with a wingbeat. “What about chainmail?”

"Must it be such an austere material?" Rarity’s muzzle wrinkled in moue.

"Chainmail isn't a material, Rarity—” the correction was annoyingly automatic, but before Rarity could dwell on it much longer, Twilight was barreling on, her body thrumming with that boundless energy that had her chasing down intellectual hares. “What if you were designing armor for, uh, one of, say, my guards?" Twilight asked, her hooves pawing eagerly.

The poor dear did not, of course, have many guards who were her own as of yet. However, while Rarity didn't feel the spark here either, she did at least still have the basics down. "Mm. A hoof-knit platinum or platinum-alloy mail, yes. Mustn't have anything that rusts with Rainbow Dash coming around."

"Exactly." Twilight let out a rush of air in relief. Her wing rubbed Rarity’s back, making the unicorn feel the heat crawl up her body.

Rarity dared to turn and peer at her friend’s wing, wondering for a wild second if it had a mind of its own.

Twilight carried on, still unawares: “So this chainmail is a mesh that contains lots of little links. These are all interconnected, but they are unique rings that comprise the whole.” 

Rarity whipped her head back around in time to see her friend indicating points in the air as if a block of chainmail were hanging like a curtain before them. “Now, every chain is connected at specific points, and if you follow one trail of rings, you’ll find that new links are added in completely separate branches.” 

Twilight’s hoof trailed down. “The further this chainmail grows and expands, the early links from back at the beginning start to drop off.” She gestured back at the top.

Rarity squinted her eyes, her ears turning out. “Do you mean… The things I enjoyed as a filly but have left behind—such as certain foods and games—those drop off the chainmail?”

Twilight nodded eagerly, her eyes igniting with ebullience. “Yes, that’s one good example! The idea is that this chainmail represents your evolving and complex nature.”

Rarity tilted her head to the side, ears swiveling towards Twilight as her friend spoke on. “There can be links that persist, like your love for family, and they interconnect elaborately with the surface details of who you are—say, a newfound interest in skiing. This means that episodes in our lives can have totally separate branches, and yet still be connected to the overall makeup of your identity!”

“So you’re saying what I’m experiencing... is but a new branch in who I am?” Rarity asked slowly.

“Yes. That would be my guess. The permutations are endless! But no matter the variances, under this example, you’re still you. The same creative, passionate, and witty mare that I—” Twilight broke off, her face going blank.

Rarity blinked. “Twilight?”

The alicorn let out a nervous giggle. “Sorry! Sorry. Wow. Timing. My timing is bad. Awful, actually!”

Before Rarity could interject, Twilight charged on, horn first, just like the conversation had been transmogrified into Nightmare Moon. “Y-You see, I wasn’t going to say anything—and I suppose I still haven’t, so maybe this is confusing—am I confusing you? I must be.”

“Er, Twilight, dear?”

“Oh boy, I can’t seem to stop talking all of a sudden. Is it getting hot in here?” Twilight fanned herself frantically. “I feel hot. It’s—oh would you look at the time!” She jumped off the pillow, her wings spread wide and every feather quivering.

All Rarity could do was stare.

“I should probably get back to the castle. I kind of left Spike with, er… everything.” Twilight’s eyes were wide like she’d just learned she was tardy in returning a library book.

Rarity’s ears drooped as her heart stung with disappointment. “Oh! I suppose if you must return.” She bit her lip. Despite their conversation’s rocky start, Rarity had come to feel glad Twilight had visited her.

Twilight scuffed a hoof on the floor. For some reason, she seemed to have trouble holding eye contact. Her gaze wandered, though it flickered to Rarity’s face again and again with nervous attention. “Yeah. I don’t want to overload you. I figure you have a lot to think about.”

“I certainly do.”

“It’s what I’m good for,” Twilight chuckled. “Making ponies think.”

“I think you do a fair bit more than that, darling.”

A pause.

“If… If I go, will you be okay?”

Rarity felt a smirk curl on her lips. “Would you feel more at ease if you confiscated my bolts of silk?”

Twilight let out a single laugh. “Maybe!” Her smile turned somber. “Seriously. I won’t go if you ask me to stay.” Her eyes lingered, apparently cured of their nomadic roaming.

The pair gazed at each other, the moment stretching long. Rarity let her eyes slide over Twilight once, slowly. The alicorn’s wings were still spread, but they no longer quivered and her feathers had settled. Her rear hooves were planted wide, one foreleg held straight as the other hovered half-bent over the floor.

A stance of indecision, perhaps. But also, maybe…

Hope.

Like Twilight was presenting herself with this dramatic pose, hoping Rarity would find her acceptable and ask her to stay.

But why would she want to be here? I’m in such a dreary mood, even I can barely stomach my presence. I must be imagining it.

“I will be all right, Twilight Sparkle. Please, do not trouble yourself over me.”

Twilight’s wings settled slowly on her back. Her raised hoof gently fell to the floor. “O-Okay.” Her gaze dropped and stayed there. Rarity frowned.

Perhaps I wasn’t imagining it? But maybe it’s better this way. The longer she stays, the more likely I am to consternate her.

Rarity rose from her seat pillow to walk her friend to the door. As she crossed the threshold, Twilight paused and looked back at Rarity. “I’m going to come back and check on you.”

“I welcome your visit, then.”

Twilight gave her a pursed smile, then turned and leaped into flight, stirring Rarity’s curls as she went.

Rarity watched her friend fly away into the bright blue sky. Her eyes squinted in the sunlight, and just like that, she lost sight of Twilight in the world’s brilliance. She felt… a nameless something. 

It gnawed on her heart, filling her with disquiet.

The sun felt warm. Outside, Ponyville bustled as it always did at the height of the morning. Another wonderful day to get things done, meet with friends, and live a happy life.

Rarity quietly stepped back into the dark and shut her door.
> Lingering Concerns
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Days later. It was morning, and Rarity lay in bed, eyes wide but body still. The sheets swirled and rippled around her, the peaks holding the scant light while rich shadows pooled in the valleys of the fabric. She debated on getting up at all.

It seemed unnecessary amidst the vision of dust motes floating in the sunlight that filtered through the crack in her curtains. 

She wished she could be so light and senseless. 

Her mind tickled with the heavy harkenings of the day. Responsibilities. Obligations.

The world said, “Move,” so she did, rising with a shiver from the warmth of her bed. Before she knew it, her routine was underway. Her boutique sign flipped from CLOSED to OPEN.

The Rules of Rarity was her beacon through the workday. Always value the customer’s input. Consider their needs, spoken or not. Challenge every choice for their utmost satisfaction.

In her haze, she found it far more challenging to grasp onto that intuition that informed all the little decisions of her work. It all seemed to slip from her hooves, or to stick and become lodged in her mind. Every dress, every outfit was a careful step-by-step process that made use of a wide array of materials and techniques.

Which fabric to choose? What length to cut? Which stitch to use? Would happy-go-lucky bows complement the customer’s personality, or would they benefit from the dramatic presence of a shawl?

She worked hard but felt she fell short of her best, and her customers didn’t seem to notice.

It killed her.

All that passion I had… What was the point? No one can even tell the difference from this lesser faire to the grand work I did before.

A small sigh escaped. Almost a whimper, but her remnant dignity forbade. It’s as if everything I strived for was a silly illusion.

She was long overdue to put on another fashion show, but she felt a distinct lack of interest in getting the planning started. Shows were a necessary part of staying in the hearts and minds of the masses. She knew this. She just couldn’t seem to bring herself to care. The fight to stay relevant in the fashion world was exhausting enough, but it was an outright grind while in her current state of mind.

Hours came and went. Then...

Another day finished. Rarity forced a polite smile as she watched the last of her customers leave. As soon as they were gone, it vanished.

She heaved a sigh as she turned the OPEN sign to CLOSED. The magic flicked out from her horn, leaving the room all the darker for it. She stared at the sign, the buzz of white noise loud in her ears. 

Sometimes, when she was alone, she’d pause, hoping that tears would come. Sometimes they did, and she’d feel a small relief. Usually, she was too empty for her eyes to even mist. 

The numbness was threading the days together into an artless blob. The last she felt much of anything was when Twilight had visited. That had been three days ago.

When no tears came, Rarity started to turn away. Her bed was beckoning her to return and wallow. To let the familiar night and the oblivion of sleep claim her.

Then she saw something out of the corner of her eye. Her ear rotated backwards, and her head followed. She paused and turned her body around as a familiar face approached on the other side of the entrance.

Rarity’s eyes brightened and her magic fumbled to open the door. “Twilight?”

Twilight Sparkle was trotting up to her, a broad smile on her face, her long tresses lifting with the breeze. Levitating at her side was a basket. “Hello, Rarity!”

The unicorn stepped aside, blinking owlishly at her friend’s perkiness as the princess sailed past her. “Er, hello!” She shut the door and regarded the basket curiously. “May I ask what you’ve brought today?”

Twilight came to a stop in the middle of the boutique floor and set her basket down. She looked at Rarity and winked. “Art supplies!”

Well familiar with her dear friend’s enthusiasms, Rarity raised an eyebrow. “And what do you intend for us to do with these art supplies, Twilight Sparkle?”

“I was wondering if you’d make paper chains with me.”

Paper chains? Even Sweetie’s past that… “Ah. I see.”

She didn’t, really. But she had faith Twilight would make her intentions clear. Eventually. Even if Rarity didn’t comprehend the meaning, she was surprised to find she was quite glad Twilight was visiting again.

The thought of going to the castle herself had crossed her mind more than once these past few days, but always the intention was mired with misery. What would they do? What would she say?

Fortunately for her, Twilight lacked such qualms.

Twilight levitated a stack of colorful construction paper and two pairs of scissors from the basket. “Well?”

Rarity pursed her lips as she neared, but her horn glowed as her aura enveloped a sheet of blue paper off the top of the stack and a pair of scissors. “This is silly.” What she didn't say was that she was far more glad to be doing something silly with her dear friend than watching dust motes in her bedroom. 

She just reserved the right to complain a little.

“Maybe. But sometimes it’s good to get in touch with our inner foal!” Twilight replied with an excited little shake.

Rarity’s eyes turned low as she feigned the lethargic detachment of Canterlot nobles and sighed: “I’m afraid my inner foal drowned. I’ve done a lot of crying on the inside, you see.”

Twilight giggled, her scissors halting partway through the red paper she was cutting. Rarity’s lips lifted into a little smile. The giggle held surprise, but also kindness.

How nice that she still gets my odd little jokes. 

“I’m sure we can do something for that.” Twilight cut her paper into even strips. Her eyes flickered to Rarity. “Fluttershy’s still concerned you know. She says you’re still not eating.”

Ah, so I’d guessed right before.

Rarity’s lips puckered. “Well! Now I know who to thank for worrying you.”

Lifting her nose daintily, she glared at the paper chains. I’m not a stray cat, Fluttershy. “Honestly,” she huffed to Twilight, “she has enough on her plate than to concern herself with silly old me.”

Twilight raised a critical eyebrow. “She’s your friend. She only wants the best for you.”

“That’s what everyone says, darling.” Rarity sniffed as she cut her paper. “Then the next thing you know they’re spoon-feeding you stilted pleasantries whilst rifling through your cupboards looking for a suicide note.”

A small gasp. “Did Fluttershy really—?”

“Yes. Yesterday.” Rarity gave a small shake of her head. “I mentioned how the famous Prench dancer, Light Hooves, died.”

“And how did they die?”

The gruesome spectacle still had its macabre appeal. “A freak accident. You see, Light Hooves had a long slender neck and enjoyed wearing lengthy scarves.”

Rarity set a few cuttings aside neatly, then took up the next bunch as she told on. “One day, whilst riding in a carriage, her scarf blew back and got caught in the rear wheel axle. It snapped her neck. Death was instantaneous.”

Rarity couldn’t help it. She smirked. “This was alarming enough for dear Fluttershy, but my true mistake had been in wondering aloud if any of my scarves were long enough to do me the same favor.”

Twilight tutted, shooting Rarity a disapproving look. “That was impish of you.” But even as she said this, the unicorn could see the corners of her lips twitching.

Rarity sighed. “Yes, I know. I apologized. I just couldn’t bear her mothering anymore. Do you know she cleaned my home?”

“I’m sure it was pure torture,” Twilight said wryly.

Rarity arched an eyebrow. “She cleaned during business hours.”

Twilight winced. “Ah. I’m surprised she went so far!”

“I could certainly see the battle in her when she started, but when she discovered she could write her own name on my kitchen counter, her worry beat out her sense of propriety.” 

Twilight sucked in air through her teeth, her eyes tensed with sympathy. “Yeah, I can see how that would be awkward.”

“Hmph! An understatement. Try dress-fitting a mare when someone is mopping the floor around you!” Rarity gave another little shake of her head, her mane’s curls shuddering with her displeasure. “The room simply reeked of ammonia...”

Twilight chuckled. “Oh, but what we’re doing is better?” She levitated glue from the basket and dabbed beads of it on the strips spread on the floor before her.

“Twilight, I was already skeptical of this activity, I needn’t hear your wry take on it. May I?” Rarity gestured at the glue bottle.

Twilight levitated it to her, and Rarity’s aura took hold of it. She dabbed her strips of paper with her own beads of glue.

Rarity paused when she realized Twilight was still gazing at her. “Yes?” she asked.

There was something in Twilight’s eyes, deep and suddenly almost as ancient as Luna’s. “I don’t suppose you’ve chosen a color for the silk?” Twilight’s tone was light but her voice was quiet.

Rarity averted her eyes, all at once breathless. “No. I haven’t.”

“Good.” There was a rustling as Twilight resumed her work. “To be perfectly honest, I only came up with this paper chain idea thirty minutes ago.”

Such a very Twilight thing to do, that.

“Well, points to you for your remarkable self-assurance.” A fierce attempt to rally her nerves that had perhaps shot too far in its sarcasm. Rarity’s eyes cut quick to her friend, wide in their worry that she’d offended or even hurt Twilight—only to be relieved at the sound of another charming giggle.

Thank heavens...

They began to interlink the paper strips, each creating a single long chain for themselves.

Twilight levitated another piece of paper to Rarity, making the unicorn groan.

“I am gathering that this is some kind of continuation of our last discussion, but I really must insist that you explain at least some of this to me. Why in Equestria are we making paper chains?”

“An object lesson.” Twilight had selected a green paper and was now cutting it. “I wanted you to see.”

“See what?”

“How our identities change and grow.”

Rarity sighed and set on cutting her new sheet. It was yellow. “Well, it’s nice to see my identity is color-coordinated.”

“It’s also not linear.” Twilight took the glue and began to dab her latest strips with it. “When we make paper chains, we tend to do them in a straight line, right? But what if…” 

She stuck her tongue out in concentration as she linked a green strip through the middle of her red chain. 

Hardly princess-dignified, darling.

Though, Rarity acknowledged Twilight’s unconscious habit had… a sweet appeal. She noted with a little blush how the shade of her friend’s pink tongue went so nicely with her pretty lavender fur.

“What if the chain did this instead?” Twilight held up her paper chains. They now made a T-shape.

Rarity’s lashes fluttered again. “I’d say your aim was off, dear.”

Twilight laughed, making Rarity smile again. Wider this time.

“Smart aleck!” Twilight chortled. “The point is that sometimes in life, we change!” She proceeded to add the other green strips.

“But you see…” With the last green strip, she looped it back to reconnect with the red chain, making a P-shape. “It all comes back together! The central part of who we are doesn’t vanish.”

She looked up to Rarity with a half-pleading smile. “Even if—” she removed one of the red links at the end and let it drop to the floor. “Certain aspects of ourselves fall away.”

Rarity hummed thoughtfully as she dabbed her latest strips with glue. “Like the importance I placed on fashion.” What a thought. Her life’s work, wafting away to the dust.

Twilight’s brow gained a small wrinkle and she shrugged. “Perhaps. But your love of fashion needn’t be removed from the chainmail of who you are. Maybe it just gets replaced with a new outlook?”

“And what outlook would that be, Twilight Sparkle?” Rarity connected the ends of her new chain to the ends of the old one, so that they made a circle. My vicious little loop.

Twilight scooted closer so that they were side by side. Rarity could feel her body heat on her flank. The alicorn trailed her hoof over the chain loop. 

As usual, the tall mare was intense. “That you’re more than what you make. Your value is incalculable, Rarity. The possibilities of who you are and what you can do may as well be infinite.” 

Twilight lifted the loop with her magic and twisted it, turning it into the infinity symbol. “You could become a musician, or a gardener, or even a martial arts teacher. You could—”

“Get sent to the moon, get possessed by shadow beings, and become your worst nightmare?”

Twilight snorted out a laugh, then bumped Rarity with her wing. “Or that! But I think we can both agree the odds of that happening are a bit slim.” She smiled warmly and leaned in to nuzzle the unicorn’s cheek. “What I’m trying to say is… it’s okay if you change. I still love you for who you are.”

Rarity felt a shiver course through her as Twilight murmured the words into her fur. The princess didn’t pull away, but lingered, her blunt bangs tickling as she turned her head and rested her cheek against Rarity’s neck. 

That warmth… that blessed warmth was now spreading all over the unicorn, bringing to life places she thought had died. Carefully, oh so carefully, Rarity closed the last of the distance between them, their flanks and shoulders touching. 

Gently, she placed a hoof under Twilight’s chin and guided her friend’s face up to hers. The alicorn’s breath tickled her muzzle.

Instinct sparked.

“Why, Twilight,” Rarity murmured, her eyes wide and searching. “I have a distinct feeling, you mean what you say.”

Twilight blinked, those cruelly long lashes fanning her cheeks. “Well, of course I do!”

Rarity shook her head. She could feel her heart pounding in her ears. “Darling, what I’m detecting lacks any platonic sentiment!”

Her eyes tensed as she watched Twilight’s eyes grow. “I’m spot on, aren’t I?” Given Twilight’s personality, alas, Rarity suspected the alicorn might be somewhat averse at the crux.

Twilight shook her head quickly. She started to pull away. “N-No, that’s not—”

“Twilight—”

Twilight waved her hooves in front of her, her hair swaying, her body practically quaking in her denial. “It’s not right, it’s not fair to you, Rarity.” She pressed her hooves to her temples and squeezed her eyes shut. “I thought I could— Urgh! This was a mistake. I’m sorry.” She was turning, wings floofed as she headed for the door.

Ethicists. Honestly.

Rarity’s body clenched. It was that morning three days ago all over again. Twilight was running, afraid because she’d thought she’d crossed some sort of boundary.

Spikes of ice stabbed Rarity’s heart, because that couldn’t have been further from the truth.

The unicorn’s horn ignited with her blue aura, and her telekinetic field wrapped about Twilight’s taut hips, holding them in place—

Twilight’s wings sprang wide with alarm. “Rarity—!” 

Rarity sprang forth like a cat leaping after prey, her spirit ablaze as she skidded to a stop between her friend and the door. Her eyes were lit with determination.

“I won’t,” Rarity hissed. She shook her head fiercely, her curls swaying. “I won’t let you run off again!”

Twilight flinched. “Please, can’t we just forget it?” For the Princess of Friendship and the protege of the Princess of Love, Twilight Sparkle had certain impediments to reading others’ emotions.

“I cannot, Twilight Sparkle. Not when—” Rarity broke off, her eyes closing as she tried to center herself.

Feelings coursed through, hot and wild, awakening her body to sensations she’d been out of touch with for what felt like ages. She wanted to get this right. She needed to get this right.

Drawing on reserves of emotion that had not yet drained into the dregs of her days, Rarity focused herself. She took a breath and opened her eyes again. Slowly, quietly, she said, “I cannot forget. Not when your patience and empathy, and… love, has been the only thing to stir my sunken heart!”

“But that’s just it, Rarity,” Twilight slouched, pawing the floor and all but closing her wings over her eyes. “I didn’t want to take advantage of your depression. I… I only wanted to lift you up!”

Rarity stepped closer. “Oh, my darling, but you have!”

Her hooves dancing, Twilight turned her face away, ears pinned fast. “A good friend wouldn’t impose this on you now. It’s selfish.”

Rarity forced herself on, like a diva at her swan song. “It’s the truth. My only wish was that it had come out sooner!”

It will be my swan’s song— the last aria before what’s left of my heart dies— if I can’t shake us both out.

With an all-too familiar self-loathing, Twilight laughed, but it was low and harsh. She looked at Rarity with a slanted smile. “I’ve tried. But I could never seem to find that perfect moment.”

Rarity cocked a skeptical brow. “There is never a perfect moment.”

Twilight wheeled a hoof through the air, her features electrified with a persistent anxiety. “And then there was your obvious preference—!”

Rarity scoffed. “What preference?”

“Stallions, Rarity. Stallions.” Twilight practically beat a hoof on her chest, her eyes popping with distress. “Am I a stallion?” Her wings flared a little. “No!”

“Twilight—” Rarity had an abrupt moment of self-awareness, the stubbornness of her depression laid forth before her. In some ways, focusing on the agony of this moment with Twilight was a blessing.

She could not permit herself to lapse into self-recrimination.

Twilight shook her head and turned away. Her wings half-spread, the joints angled down as she started to pace. “I’ve ruined it.”

Rarity watched her friend with dismay.

I should have known… I should have realized she would react like this. Twilight Sparkle places faith in her careful plans, and when those go awry…

She truly believes hope is lost.

Dismay became ire. Ire, heat. Rarity’s brow furrowed and she drew herself up with a breath.

She’s decided this without even giving me the opportunity to reply. So like her to jump several steps ahead.

“I understand if you don’t want to see me for a while,” Twilight said, her eyes on the floor. She stopped her pacing and heaved a heavy sigh. Her head hung low, her silky purple tresses spilling over her shoulders.

At last, less than a whisper, barely more than a breath, the forlorn princess turned aside. “I just wanted to be there for you…” A gift of light as well as heat.

A way out.  Determination she’d lost flared for one… last… time in the dark. I’ll just have to correct her, then.

Rarity closed the distance between them with sure steps. Twilight’s gaze snapped up, her wing feathers fluffing. “Rarity—?”

She was quieted with an assertive kiss. Some part of Rarity, the part that read romance novels… It was well and truly smug.

The rest—hopeful.

Twilight hummed with surprise, her wings flapping once, stirring their manes. Rarity’s eyes slipped closed, her fast heart heightening her senses. Twilight’s lips were soft—but dry. 

The balm on Rarity’s lips would cure that soon enough. Twilight pulled away a little, gasping into her mouth, but Rarity pressed forward, insistent, catching her lips again. Now, it was Rarity’s turn to hunt in another’s shadow.

Don’t retreat from me. Please.

Rarity lifted a hoof, and with her pastern, tugged on Twilight’s foreleg. When the alicorn shifted close enough that their chests were touching, Rarity raised another hoof. Instincts guided it on, draping it just over the place where her friend’s wing sprouted. 

She could feel Twilight’s wings flap once again, softer this time, before they enveloped her in a gentle, feathery touch. Rarity sighed as Twilight finally began to respond, her lips making small, cautious overtures at first before her movements grew in boldness. At last.

Rarity met this with equal gusto, her lower abdomen tightening as a warm and exultant feeling ballooned in her chest. They went on like this, till Rarity’s lips began to tingle, and her lungs burned. But it was such a burn as to be treasured.

So many days and nights feeling as though there wasn’t a thing left in the world that could make her smile, and now—

Twilight broke the kiss, panting. “Wait.”

Rarity shook her head, her mouth already trying to find Twilight’s again. “I don’t want to wait.”

Twilight pulled away with one massive step, her wings drawing back and pinching against her sides. “We need to! I need to!” Her eyes were massive in their pleading.

Rarity froze. The happy balloon in her started to deflate. She’d missed something. Something critical.

But what? Some thread of romance, some cut of caution? Twilight was clearly interested in her, and yet...

Twilight sat heavily, a sigh escaping her. “Rarity, I have to admit to you, my motivation in not telling you wasn’t just for you.”

This made the unicorn cock her head with a questioning look.

“The reason I kept my feelings a secret was because… because—!” Twilight huffed and pawed the floor once. “Because even if you did accept my advances, I wasn’t sure if you’d still feel the same way about me once your depression was gone!” 

She sounded as though she had to force the words out.

Rarity’s eyebrows rose. “That’s what has you worried?” An ache settled in, just below her horn, begging to be rubbed.

Twilight’s lips puckered as a light blush entered her cheeks. “Yes!” She waved a hoof through the air. “It’s practically textbook not to try and start relationships with people in crisis!”

Rarity narrowed her eyes. “Why? Am I broken now?”

This made the alicorn stiffen. “What? No! That isn’t what I meant!”

“Then what in Equestria do you mean, Twilight Sparkle? Because I can assure you, everything I’m feeling at this moment is genuine!” Rarity choked on the last word, feeling her emotions surge. Indignation made her skin feel hot, but inside she felt the chill of despair.

Perhaps I am broken, and I’m only lying to us both.

Twilight closed her eyes with suffering. “I just… want to be sure.”

“Sure of what?”

The response was a whisper. “That you aren’t just using me.” Ice followed, like the wolf of winter, let in at the door.

Rarity flinched. Her eyes started to fill with tears and she looked away. “What a thing to say.” The words were wispy in their shock.

“I’m sorry.” Twilight’s ears drooped. “You’re right, I could have said that better.” She took a little step forward, her head craning to catch Rarity’s gaze again. “You know that I’m happy to support you, and it’s not that I think you have any malicious designs. What I’m really talking about is—”

“Suffering a short-lived relationship when you want something lasting,” Rarity said, tone clipped. Her eyes shot sideways at Twilight, stark in their frigid hurt. “Yes, I’d gathered that.” Do you honestly believe...

Twilight’s eyes tensed, her mouth thinning as she looked away. “If you thought about it for a moment, you’d see why I have these concerns. For all I know, what you’re feeling now is genuine…”

She shrunk back into herself, and Rarity heard the loneliness in Twilight’s voice, the fear borne of forethought. “But how long will that last? How deep does that desire actually go? I have to ask myself if I’m prepared for the possibility of you changing your mind when I’m not the thing making you feel better anymore.”

Rarity tried to keep her voice steady. “How can I prove to you that my feelings are not merely to save myself?”

How can I prove that for both of us?

Twilight looked down, her eyes narrowed in thought. Rarity felt a pang of longing. You were so worried you had ruined it between us… It would seem that blame lies with me.

And then, Twilight Sparkle reminded Rarity why she’d been so proud of her friend’s ascension. An academic’s dither might snare her, but she had what many scholars lacked. Decisiveness—rather attractively daring decisiveness, to hoof.

“Dinner. In one week.” Twilight drew herself up as she said the words, her ears suddenly perking with resolve.

Plan conceived and begun, Twilight abruptly charged forward, as she always did. “It’ll be a date. Private or public, your choice. I don’t want to out you if you aren’t—”

“Public is fine,” Rarity said, her eyes brightening. She dabbed at her eyes and hoped her makeup wasn’t running. 

Hard to win over a heart when you looked like a drowned rat. 

“I want you to know that I’m sincere,” she said next with a little toss of her hair.

Twilight frowned, prancing her forehooves. “Please don’t be too hasty with your choice. If you come out as liking mares, then change your mind later, it could be very inconvenient—”

Rarity scowled, her shoulders drawing back as her chin lifted up high. “Twilight Sparkle, if you are trying to safeguard my reputation, I assure you, the concern is misplaced!”

Her tail lashed as she looked away sharply with a hmph! “It is true that you would be the first mare I’ve ever expressed an interest in, but I hardly care what anypony else thinks!” 

She turned her head back a quarter to look at Twilight again, her lips pursing. “Not when I care for you so much!”

The blush had returned to the alicorn’s cheeks. “W-Well, you’ll have plenty of time to face any second thoughts you may have—”

“I won’t have any second thoughts.” Rarity took a step toward her friend.

Oh, if they could just return to that happy release mere moments ago…!

Twilight moved away, her eyes averted. “We should take it easy till then. I… want to go slow, from now on.” Her voice sounded strained.

Rarity nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. “Yes, of course.” Show some decorum! We have to respect how she feels, nevermind that you’re acting like a love-starved fool.

Twilight started to sidle for the door. “I’ll send a note by dragon fire with details.”

“I shall await it with bated breath, darling.” Rarity chanced a smile. It felt brittle.

As fragile as her hopes.

Twilight paused at the door, her tail swishing behind her. She looked back. “I want this, you know. So badly.”

The pause returned, lingering as Twilight looked at everything in the shop but Rarity herself.  “I’m just afraid if we rush into it, we could both get hurt.” Her words rushed out in a terrified whisper.

“Then I look forward to assuring you of my desires,” Rarity’s voice sounded breathless.

Twilight didn’t move, her eyes searching the unicorn’s face. Then without a word, she turned and left, the door chime ringing behind her. She seemed to take some essential quality of the light with her, leaving what remained stale as dead, unmoving air.

Rarity closed her eyes, her ears drooping.

One week. I must manage one more week. And then…

Then what? In what way could she truly convey to Twilight that she had every intention to make her happy? Her spirit burned with a need to give, to make her dear and precious friend feel cherished, to brighten her soul the same way she had brightened Rarity’s. 

But laying between them was this damn gloom. Rarity felt her self-loathing bubble and froth. The contents of who she was, who she had been, and who she wanted to be were a tangled mess in her mind. She needed to sort it out.

Her eyes turned to the paper chains still on the floor.

I’m different. I know I am. But maybe I can make a return to who I was. 

Her horn lit up as she picked up another sheet and a pair of scissors from the basket Twilight had left behind.

Even if I cannot manage a perfect restoration of that ‘Rarity’, then perhaps I can discover something close to her in spirit.

She began to cut strips. She tried to keep her mind clear. For the moment, her thoughts felt too overwhelming.

Time slipped by, and before she knew it, it had gotten dark out. 

The stack of construction paper was gone, the basket now filled with strips. Her head ached and her horn buzzed from the continuous use of magic. Her body was sore from having not moved for what had apparently been hours. Rarity eyed her work, levitating one purple strip from the rest.

She felt… not numb. That alone was notable, but even as her heart stung with a more familiar kind of misery from depressions-past, something else was weaved in. Each time she thought she was close to naming it, the truth fled from her, like a frightened rabbit. 

She soon gave up the chase. It would either come to her, or it wouldn’t. As she turned the purple strip over in her magic, she thought instead of what Twilight had tried to teach her.

‘The possibilities of who you are and what you can do may as well be infinite.’ Hmph. Rarity’s ears flattened, but not at the thought of Twilight. At the idea that she had any potential worth noting. 

Her eyebrows rose. We could always put that to the test, I suppose. Twilight has a unique love of tests, does she not?

Rising to all hooves, she trotted to the rear of her boutique where her service counter was located. Once behind it, her eyes squinted as her magic moved aside order forms, receipts, and various office supplies. She brightened a little when she found a dark fountain pen.

Rarity sat as she uncapped the pen and set the purple strip on the counter. She thought for a moment, then wrote in flourishing cursive: Melodramatic.

She stared down at the word, watching as the ink dried at the points and corners where she’d let the pen tip linger.

Then the mysterious “something” that had eluded her before finally became clear.

Rarity was glad Twilight had stopped things. 

She was glad she had a week before they saw each other again.

She was glad because she realized that her friend had been right. If Twilight had stayed, Rarity would have devoured Twilight’s love whole, and afterwards she still would’ve had her hooves out, begging for more. Rarity’s eyes clouded, and the tears that she had been waiting for hours ago flowed freely now, dripping onto the white countertop in fat drops. 

She laid her head down and let the sobs come…

And still, she was glad.
> Lights in the Darkness
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Rust: “You’re looking at it wrong, the sky thing.”

Marty: “How’s that?”

Rust: “Well, once there was only dark. You ask me, the light’s winning.”

From the final episode of True Detective, Season 1.






Rarity woke up the next day, feeling as though she’d swallowed a tangle of snakes. She hadn’t even risen from the bed and already she felt trepidation for what lay ahead. It was a marked difference from the many mornings of recent memory. But today, she would not lose time being motionless amidst her sheets.

She’d decided last night—after she’d been emptied of tears—that the bare minimum was no longer acceptable.

This had inspired her to write on a new, blue strip: Standards. Always. She’d linked this with the purple strip just before stumbling off to bed.

Now Rarity rose quietly and opened all the curtains in her room. She grimaced as the sunlight struck her. The burn drove her to her vanity dresser, glaring into the mirror. Into her own blue eyes. 

She refused to walk away until she had reclaimed some of that pristine beauty she had once strived for every day. After some struggle, she managed something acceptable. Still, set against the radiance of her memories, her looks could not quite yet match the old standards.

But they didn’t have to; that was the point, wasn’t it?

Dash it all, anyway! We can find a new kind of splendor.

Once downstairs, she made breakfast for the first time in a long while. She even washed the plates she used. With just a few minutes left before her boutique opened, Rarity took the time to perfect a ponnequin display, something she had neglected to do since her depression began. Then…

The CLOSED sign flipped to OPEN.

The customers came in slower that day—as they normally did on a hump day. Rarity smiled and greeted them all with as much warmth as she could. It was still a show. Still an act. Still just her going through the same motions in many ways.

But her mind burned with thoughts of Twilight Sparkle, and this fueled her to make room for hope.







The days trickled by painfully slow, leaving Rarity wondering if she’d go mad before she could see Twilight again. The paper chain she’d started that fateful night steadily grew until it no longer fit well underneath her service counter. Uncertain of where to keep it, she hung it on the wall of her gossip nook.

The chain had grown intricate, making diamond shapes that connected neatly at the points. Each had something written on them. Some were simply words. Others were phrases.

A hoofful of times, she’d managed to write in small print about a specific memory. Each time she thought she was done, something new came to mind. New new. Like…

Wicked humor.

Sarcasm.

And…

Mares.

She’d pondered over the latter word a great deal. Did she only like mares now? Was that the truth of who she was? 

No. It couldn’t be. Rarity frowned and added another paper link, right next to it.

Stallions.

Her frown deepened. Well, yes, but… Then her eyes lit up, and she wrote with a little smirk:

Any bloody creature worth bothering with.

All three linked together. She gave a little nod. That felt truer.

There was a time she would have balked at such things… But when living seemed a bother, she came to realize that she was quite willing to explore new avenues. If it meant her life could regain its joy and wonder, then why not?

Nevermind that she’d already set her sights on royalty.

She was eating again, which (she supposed) was a good thing. Small meals for now, but she ate three times a day. Moreover, she hadn’t skipped a single day yet, so that was something. 

When she looked at herself in her standing mirror, she realized she’d lost a lot of weight. She’d never noticed before, having failed to dress up or preen as she once did. She hadn’t lost so much that her bones were showing... yet. But it was still a stark change. Noticeable enough that she now understood the others’ alarm. 

Her face was leaner, her flanks narrower. Her legs looked thin and frail.

Who knew misery was such an effective diet?

She actually laughed.

Wicked humor, indeed. The gallows clattered in the back of her mind. Applause, perhaps.

Still, the laughter was rare. She oscillated between aching sadness and the oppressive hollowness most of the time. Her front of normalcy wore her down, leaving her exhausted at day’s end. Sometimes, she even resented her work, wondering if she’d have been better off taking a vacation.

She knew a vacation would have been dangerous, though. Too much time to think. The work kept her moving, and movement was life.

Rarity willed herself not to dwell on the fruitlessness of things as she guided fabric through her sewing machine. She forced more smiles. And then to her surprise, a genuine smile appeared.

It was an unexpected gift, blossoming when she’d given a little filly the cute-ceañera dress her mother had ordered her. That precious little dance of joy she did... The warmth in Rarity’s chest had felt good. 

Then in a moment, it was gone.

The hollowness was like a hungry black hole in her heart. Even these brief rises in spirit were swiftly swallowed.

But in a way, she managed to see it in a positive light. After all, just last week she’d been an emotionless robot barely capable of crying. To feel anything on her own, especially positive things…

I want to beat this. I want her to see how much I mean it when I say I want to be with her. That my desires can survive this awful episode!

The wait... was still torture.

It was nearing time to close her boutique again. Rarity listened politely to her final customer regale her with a flowery tale of love—and his hope to woo the object of his affections with a dashing outfit. A respectable feat, given the popularity of the mare, and how scrawny the customer was.

She had already evaluated his needs ten minutes ago, but experience had taught her that sometimes fashion work was its own form of counseling. What customers didn’t want to be heard, anyway? One of her ears swiveled, however, when she heard the bell at the entrance chime.

More customers? But it’s nearly closing time!

A quick glance made her freeze.

Fluttershy.

Oh goodness… 

Then quickly following behind her was a smiling Pinkie Pie.

Rarity’s face fell.

Oh, buck.

She’d forgotten that Pinkie’s second charge for her happiness was forthcoming. And Fluttershy! What in the blazes was she doing here?

They were both holding baking dishes. Rarity pouted. Once more with the food, I see! Is nothing sacred anymore?

“Uh, hello?”

Rarity jumped, looking at her customer in alarm. “Er, yes! Yes, my dear, I think I can help you.”

The stallion brightened. “Really?”

Rarity gave him a thin smile. “But of course!” She practically shoved a clipboard with an order form into his hooves. “If you’d please just fill this and leave it on the counter, I shall have a quote for you by tomorrow! Thank you!” Her last words came out in a nervous sing-song.

That done, Rarity trotted briskly to her friends. They had gone to her kitchen and were setting down their dishes on the table. Fluttershy’s eyes practically glittered as she looked around Rarity’s now-clean kitchen.

Pinkie Pie didn’t concern herself with the state of her surroundings. She hummed as she pulled the cover off of her baking dish. As Rarity neared, they both turned to her with smiles.

“Hello girls,” Rarity greeted with a cautious smile of her own. 

“Rarity! We brought you plenty of nummy stuff!” Pinkie Pie said, bounding over to give Rarity a tight hug.

The unicorn bore this with a little sigh, and let her eyes drift upward for the briefest of moments. “Yes, I can see that.”

When Pinkie stepped away, Fluttershy was swift to take her place and give a hug of her own, much gentler. “We thought you’d like dinner and dessert,” she said as she pulled away.

Rarity arched an eyebrow. Perhaps Pinkie wasn’t leading the charge this time? Or maybe Fluttershy managed to convince Pinkie to include her—not that it would be hard to do with our rambunctious friend. 

She took a deep breath, and on the exhale, felt the early flickers of irritation dissipate.

Do not be ungrateful! They care. Their love for you has persisted, despite your distance and occasional snark.

She could feel her throat clench with emotions: Love, but also some guilt. She felt undeserving of the effort.

I am blessed with such good friends.

“Dinner and dessert sound splendid,” Rarity said with some effort. She gave a little bow of the head. “Thank you for thinking of me. I know I’ve been… not myself as of late.”

Pinkie blew a raspberry. “Aw, shucks. It’s no biggie! We just really wanted to visit you!” 

She stepped aside and gestured dramatically with both hooves at her baking dish. “Voila! A batch of my famous Gooey Butter Cake!” Her mouth started to water as she eyed it. “It's got loads of butter, sugar, and sour cream—!”

Fluttershy blushed a little as she pulled the cover off of her baking dish to reveal a rather dense-looking creation. “I brought a cheesy vegetable casserole. It’s not very famous, but my mom used to make it when I was feeling depressed, and it always managed to help me feel better.”

Rarity’s eyes went round as she looked from the thick casserole to the slab of sugar Pinkie Pie called a cake. “This looks fattening—oh! Er, forgive me, I meant fabulous.” But her lips quivered at their furtive exchange of looks, and before she could stop herself, Rarity burst into laughter. When Pinkie started to giggle alongside her, Rarity laughed harder, tears coming to her eyes.

Fluttershy didn’t laugh but smiled and blushed. “I suppose we were a little obvious.”

Rarity wiped a tear from her eye. “A tad! Yes! With all the subtlety of a sledgehammer.” When the pegasus wilted, Rarity calmed down enough to nuzzle her. “Oh! Now, now, darling! I am not upset!”

“I’m sorry for being such a bother, lately,” Fluttershy said with tense brow. “I was quite anxious, imposing on you as I did, but I was just so very worried!”

Rarity hummed. “And I gave you every cause to worry. Never fear, Flutters. Whatever trespass you imagine occurred—I have already forgiven it.”

She sighed dramatically and looked down at herself. “In fact, I’ve only recently become aware of my drastic transformation. It had never been my intention to lose so much weight in so little time! It explains at least some of my lack of energy.”

Pinkie rubbed her hooves together, a devious glint in her eye. “We can fix that!”

Rarity arched an eyebrow. “Don’t you dare go bringing me sweets every day! I shall regain my healthy figure with care.”

“Aww! No fun!”

Rarity smirked. Her horn glowed as she levitated plates and serving utensils to the table. “All right, ladies. What shall I get us to drink?”









Perhaps it had just been her own paltry cooking, but when Rarity tasted her friends’ food, she could barely restrain herself. 

She had hungrily devoured two massive slices of Fluttershy’s casserole and found she had been correct in guessing that it would be filling. But it wasn’t just filling—it was also comforting. Rarity felt transported to fillyhood with each flavorful bite. Back to the days when her own mother would make her potato soup after a beastly day at school.

She was almost certain she had no space for dessert, but one small taste of Pinkie Pie’s utterly unhealthy, but horrifically delicious Gooey Butter Cake led her to eat three...whole...slices. By late evening she was feeling full and giddy. 

After the dishes were washed, the trio chatted about everything and nothing at all.

Then Pinkie suggested they play the word game, Ghost. One pony started with a letter. Then the next pony added the next letter.

The goal was to avoid being the one who added the final letter to the emerging word. Whoever had the misfortune of being unable to add letters was then a step closer in forming the word “Ghost”, with completion of the game’s namesake resulting in that pony “vanishing” (being eliminated) from the competition entirely. To keep the game moving, they each had five seconds to think of something.

Rarity wasn’t really feeling all that competitive, but she found herself very amused at the panicked expressions that crossed Fluttershy’s face, and Pinkie’s elaborate thinking strategies. She supposed her distraction was why she was on the verge of elimination. Fluttershy had reached the ‘O’ in Ghost. Pinkie only had a ‘G’. 

The one time the party planner lost a round had been due to Rarity challenging her letter choice as even being part of a real word.

“Pinkie, what the devil is a ‘swoof’?”

Pinkie Pie’s smile curled. “Oh. You know. Swoof! It’s a verb.”

Fluttershy’s eyes turned up in thought. “Hmmm… Is it maybe, ‘I swoof, you swoof, he—she—me swoof—’?”

Rarity squinted one eye. “That doesn’t sound right.”

Pinkie Pie gave herself away when she devolved into wild giggling.

This latest round was proving to be intense. So far, they had spelled, “Gobbled”. For a moment, it seemed Fluttershy was about to get one step closer to losing when, at the last second, she thought to add a—

“Y!” she squealed with big circle eyes, her wing feathers fluffing.

“Blast! And here I thought the gap would start to close,” Rarity said with feigned despair, a dramatic hoof pressed to her chest.

Pinkie Pie rubbed her temples, her eyes squeezed shut as she hummed out what she had claimed was a special yak meditation. It honestly just sounded like she was attempting to sing a Hearth’s Warming carol whilst also trying to remove peanut butter from the roof of her mouth.

Just before she hit her time limit, she cried out with a grin and a little hop, “G!”

Rarity didn’t even pause. “O.” She took a leisurely sip of her licorice tea. She had a feeling she would need a stomach remedy after all that food.

Fluttershy pressed her hooves together anxiously. “Um, um… O?”

Pinkie rocked from side to side, to the point that the chair squeaked and tilted beneath her. Then, with a cheer: “K!” 

Rarity leaned her cheek on a manicured hoof, a lazy smile on her lips. “Pinkie, I’m afraid that sounds an awful lot like a finished word.”

Pinkie blinked at her. “‘Gobbledygook’... Huh! You’re right. That means I’m one step closer to becoming a spoooooky ghost!” She waved her hooves and adopted a sinister smile. “OooOOooOOooh!”

Fluttershy shrank in her seat. “Um, speaking of scary things, c-could we maybe turn on a few more lights? Pretty please?” She smiled weakly.

The kitchen light had been on for a while now, but it was not particularly strong. Rarity looked behind her, through the archway that led back to her boutique, and realized that it was nearly pitch black in her shop.

Oh, poor thing!

“I’ll get some lights on, darling. Fear not!” Rarity’s horn lit as she turned on some of the lamps in the boutique space. She heard Fluttershy sigh with relief behind her.

“Thank you!” the pegasus said, sitting up straighter. She cocked her head to the side and looked between her friends. “Also, I was kinda hoping we could use paper to write our letters from each round going forward?” 

She stroked her hair with a small blush. “The last three rounds had words that were more than ten letters and it got a little confusing.”

Pinkie Pie shrugged. “I’m fine with it. We could even use it to keep track of each other’s Ghost!”

Rarity thought for a moment. I believe I’m out of index cards. Although…

Her eyes brightened, and from her gossip nook, she levitated Twilight’s basketful of paper strips into the kitchen.

“Will these do?” she asked with a self-conscious tuck of the chin as she set the basket down onto the table.

Pinkie oohed as Fluttershy leaned forward. “Wow! So many strips! Did you do all of these yourself, Rarity?” the pegasus asked.

Rarity felt her hide glow hot. “Yes, I did. I’ve been using it for an… experiment.” She levitated several strips from the basket, as well as the pen she’d been using to write on them. With her magic, she began to write each of their “Ghost” progress. She took another small stack of strips and set these in the center of the kitchen table.

“What kind of an experiment?” Pinkie asked. “Is it a kooky one? I like kooky experiments!”

Rarity allowed for a sad little smile. “Perhaps it isn’t kooky, Pinkie, but it could certainly be called silly.”

“Would it have anything to do with that pretty paper chain I saw over your gossip nook?” Fluttershy asked.

“Huh?” Pinkie scratched her head, one ear drooping. “There was a paper chain?”

“Yes, actually.” Rarity looked down at the table, a little frown on her face. Should she tell them?

“It’s looking beautiful so far, Rarity,” Fluttershy said with a little smile. “I especially like the diamond shapes! My paper chains never seem to come out so even.”

“Is the diamond shape part of your experiment?” Pinkie asked.

Rarity shook her head. “Not necessarily. The pattern was just an aesthetic choice. I did discover, however, that it allowed me to easily group together ideas.”

“Like what kinda ideas?”

Rarity gazed between her friends. They were both looking at her intently, their ears perked with interest. She looked away, the fist of her self-doubt rising with vengeance up into her throat. She fought to speak around it.

“Aspects of who I am. You see I’ve…” she sighed and closed her eyes. “Part of my recent depression has been struggling with the sense that I’ve lost myself. I do not feel the same.”

A bitter twist pulled across her lips.  “Or as good. This experiment of mine was meant to help me visually grasp who I am, and maybe reclaim some of what I’ve lost.” She peeked at them sidelong. “Does that… sound too odd?”

The other two mares shook their heads adamantly.

“Sound odd? Goodness no!” Fluttershy touched a hoof to her chest, her brow furrowing. “Remember when you asked me to run your Manehattan shop for a day? I discovered so many different sides to myself! It was very stressful and confusing.” She slouched, remorse pulling her features down. “And then, of course, there was that awful time I listened to Iron Will and let my aggressiveness run amok...”

Rarity’s eyes widened. “Sweet Celestia, how could I have forgotten all of that?”

“Ooh, ooh!” Pinkie waved her hoof like she was a filly at school. “And remember waaaay back when I found the Mirror Pool, and the herd of Pinkies were all like, ‘I’m the real Pinkie!’ and I was like, ‘No, I am!’ But then I got waaaay confused and was like, ‘Gee, am I the real one?’” She chuckled, sitting back with an air of fond reminiscence. “Yeah. That was a pickle.”

Now Rarity’s ears drooped. “What is wrong with me that I couldn’t remember you both went through those experiences? I was so certain nopony would understand!”

Fluttershy slid out of her chair and came around the table. She sat and took one of Rarity’s hooves into hers. “Sometimes, when we’re hurting, we lose sight of things.” She stroked the unicorn’s fur and smiled gently. “But that’s why friends are there to remind us.”

Pinkie bounded over to Rarity’s other side, grabbing her in another tight hug. “Yeah, Rares! And you should never feel afraid to talk to us! We care tons about you!”

Rarity could feel her eyes begin to tear up. She tried to open her mouth to speak but found she didn’t dare, lest she became a sobbing mess.

How many times this week have I cried? It feels like…

She felt her friends press in and hold her, and she nuzzled them both, the tears slipping silent down her cheeks and matting her fur.

It feels like my heart’s starting to work again.









After her tears had subsided, Rarity had urged them to finish their game. Pinkie won, of course, but it was hardly the point. They laughed. She laughed. She felt whole and normal.

Rarity was happy, and the hungry void was absent.

Her friends had gathered their things and were on their way to the door. She followed after them, smiling. Her smile waned a little when Fluttershy paused and looked at the paper chain hanging on the wall.

“Is something the matter, dear?” Rarity asked.

Fluttershy bit her lip, then looked at her. “I was wondering… Would it be okay if we added something to your chain?”

Pinkie hopped next to her, “Neat-o! I like that idea!”

Rarity’s eyebrows rose. She thought quickly:

My! What a suggestion! I… suppose my original hope had been to gain a personal understanding of myself, but perhaps such a thing isn’t truly possible without some input from loved ones?

Her friends regarded her with open, kind expressions.

What observations would they make, I wonder? That I’m a good friend? That they like me?

She snorted inwardly.

Come now, give them a little more credit! Don’t make the mistake of underestimating their depth again!

She peered studiously at Fluttershy, then at Pinkie. Still, I wonder… Now, anxiously so. What do they see in me? She ran her teeth over her bottom lip, just managing to stop herself from outright chewing. Tonight has already demonstrated my depression has left me with glaring blind spots.

Her lip stiffened. Well then, enough shilly-shallying! Let us reveal the unknown.

Rarity took a deep breath, then smiled. “Yes. I’m fine with that.”

She levitated the pen and two strips over. Pink for Pinkie Pie. Yellow for Fluttershy. They each took a moment to look over her paper chain so as not to do a repeat entry. After, it took very little time for them to think of something to write down. When they handed Rarity the strips, her cheeks blushed.

Fluttershy had written, Helps others discover their inner beauty.

Pinkie’s said, Super DUPER Generosity!

Rarity’s eyes misted once again, but she sniffled back the tears, and silently hugged her friends instead.

I am truly blessed.
> The Seventh Day
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------

Following her friends’ visit, Rarity felt… lighter. Raw, still, in many ways, like her soul had been made delicate and just one errant hallmark moment could send her into blubbering tears. But still, lighter. 

A great rock had been moved from within, and now the gusts of emotions rushed through her, sweeping away the dreary cobwebs that so stymied her creative spirit. Best of all—

She could cry again! Oh, what sweet relief it was!

She let the tears come, gladly welcoming the salty torrent with all of her trademark wailing and moaning. She was cleansing her heart, ridding it of the despair she’d felt, but also reveling in the beauty of things. To feel things so acutely was practically to straddle life itself.

Why, just the other day, she became verklempt at the sight of a stallion proposing to his beloved just outside of her shop, forcing her to flee upstairs before anypony could see her crumble.

Oh, Rarity was keenly aware that breaking into tears during a fashion consult went far beyond a simple faux pas, so she mustered up all of her considerable social skills for some self-control. It got her through the workdays. Mostly. 

There may have been an errant tear or two, and perhaps she needed to excuse herself for a teensy moment, but she maintained some semblance of decorum in front of her customers.

To say that it wasn’t challenging— especially in the wake of her recent night with Pinkie and Fluttershy— would have been an outright lie, whatever appearances may seem.

Two days after her girls’ night, Rarity had been at her sales desk, finalizing the sale of a tuxedo to a stallion, when Spike entered, his scaly brow tightened and his claws fiddling with each other in an anxious wrestle.

After thanking her customer, Rarity turned to her draconic little friend as he came to a stop at the end of her counter. “Spikey-Wikey? My dear! Whatever is the matter?” She touched a hoof to her chest, her eyes tensing with concern. “Heavens, you look as if you owed the wrong sort a king’s ransom!”

Spike scratched at his cheek and shuffled on the spot, his emerald gaze turning down. “I ran into Pinkie Pie today,” he said, looking up at her with chin tucked. “She told me about how she and Fluttershy spent time with you to help cheer you up.”

Rarity blinked. “Yes, they did visit me two days ago...” She said this slowly, still uncertain of where this was going.

Spike rocked forward and back on the soles of his feet, his hands clasping behind his back. “When she told me that, I realized that I hadn’t been by to visit since I gave you that taaffeite gem, and…” he sighed and slouched, peering at her sidelong. “I felt bad. I should have been more concerned!”

Now Rarity smiled, her heart warming with that familiar glow of friendship, though the teensiest crease divided her brow. She was heartened to hear that he cared so deeply, but she hardly wished for the little fellow to feel responsible for her well-being! A young dragon like himself didn’t deserve the burden. 

“That’s very sweet of you, Spike,” she started gently, “but I hardly hold that against you—!”

“But I hold it against me!” He cried, taking an impassioned step forward. His head lifted and his eyes fixed on her, large with anxiety, and with little tears threatening to spill down his scales.

Rarity leaned back, her mouth pressing together in surprise. Well! Her small friend certainly couldn’t be accused of lacking in fiery passion!

Her eyes ticked to the side.

I, er, suppose he’s a dragon after all… and so honor-bound, at that!

Spike clutched the sides of his head and squeezed his eyes shut, globs of tears clinging to his eyelashes. “It wasn’t like I didn’t know you were going through something! That’s why I gave you the gem, hoping it would cheer you up!” 

He sighed again, more heavily, letting his clawed hands fall. “But I should have known you needed more than that from me. I just… wasn’t sure you’d want to open up to me. M-Maybe I was afraid I’d bother you and just make it worse...”

Rarity bit her lip.

I’ve underestimated him again… I thought he didn’t notice my despair, but the fact was he knew something was wrong and handled it as best he felt able.

Rarity leaned down and nuzzled the spines on Spike’s head. “Oh my precious dear… Please, do not torment yourself like this! I didn’t reach out to anyone, and I certainly did not make myself in the least bit approachable!” 

She gave his forehead a little peck, then placed a hoof under his chin and tilted his head up to meet gazes.

“Spike, you have been a good friend,” she murmured warmly. “And you continue to be one of my most cherished companions and ardent champions!” She pouted and gave a little shake of her head. “You deserve no reproach!”

Spike wrung his claws. “If… If you say so.”

She smiled. “I do say so.”

“But… uh… I was wondering…” He looked away, his shoulders hunching up.

Rarity tilted her head and waited patiently with a curious blink. Her ears swiveled forward with expectation. Something deeper here, I think.

Spike took a deep breath and pointed meekly toward her gossip nook. “I was wondering… If I could add something to your chain project too?”

Now Rarity’s eyes widened. “My… chain project?”

She looked to the chain curtain that hung over her nook. It had grown since that night, to put it lightly. She’d added several more links. Some not so flattering, and others a little more kind. Her friends’ loving additions had widened her view to more generous understandings of herself. Things she could not have seen mere days ago.

Rarity regarded Spike carefully, her eyes tensing in thought. It was true that her little experiment wasn’t a guarded secret— it was openly visible from her boutique floor after all— but it hadn’t been her original intention to allow others to participate.

Though, I allowed Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie to add something… I saw the value in their participation, and Spike is every bit as dear to me as they are!

“You may contribute a link to my chain, Spike,” she said with a small smile and a nod. “Pardon my hesitation. I’m only surprised that anyone else would be interested!”

“Of course I would be!” Spike said, popping straight with a big fanged smile. “From what Pinkie Pie told me, it sounds really neat!”

Ah, Pinkie, of course. As he spoke, Rarity had produced the basket of strips and glue from under her counter. As she set it before Spike, her eyes brightened with an idea.

Hmm… What if… she looked out at the boutique floor, where a few customers still perused her displays and clothing racks. Her ears perked straight, her eyes growing. What if… I put this out on the floor and invited visitors to share something about me?

Yes… yes! Why bloody not?

But even as the thought crossed her mind, she felt anxiety gnaw at her as she turned to look at Spike. He was lying on his belly, the pen from the basket in his claws as he looked up in serious thought. Spike, dear and treasured friend, was one pony, er, person; to open the gates further...

It could backfire on her. Goodness, it could be a nightmare!

Except I’ve lived in Ponyville for so long… What could my neighbors add to my chain? Isn’t it worth it to see? 

She puckered her lips, her tail flicking across the floor pensively. I dare say, I get along with just about everyone here! Though I do get out of town visitors from time to time...

Rarity looked around, trying to think of a solution. Her eyes brightened at seeing a round hat box up on a shelf. I-deee-ya!

Yes! I could cut a slot into the top and leave a sign! That way, others could submit their ideas, and I could go through them in private!

She stilled, her heart doing a little flip in her chest. Her ears drooped a little.

Ah. But I’d need to refrain from bias, or there isn’t any point. Even if someone submits something less than flattering...

Rarity’s spine uncurled itself, with effort, a determined little frown coming over her features. By Celestia, I shall do it! After all, even negative feedback is preferable to nothing! How else can we grow?

By stretching our neck with pretty silk, a dark corner of herself hissed.

She pushed at the fear this flared in her, her jaw tightening. Get thee back, foul thoughts! As if we had much to lose in trying! What awful thing could someone possibly tell me that I haven’t already told myself?

“Rarity?”

Rarity blinked herself out of her reverie to see Spike on his feet, holding out a green strip. The light blush to his scales was simply more darling than was fair!

“H-Here,” he said, struggling to hold her gaze. “I think… this captures how I see you pretty well!”

Eyes lit with avid interest, Rarity took the strip with her hooves and read it.

An elegant lady.

So simple. So sincere.

And yet so devastating in its scope.

Months ago, such a statement would have brought a smile to her face, but she would have hardly felt it news. Her perception of herself was firmly set in the ardent belief that she was elegant, and she was a lady. 

It wasn’t out of conceit. Not totally, anyway. She had been heavily enmeshed in the upper echelons of Equestrian society, well-versed in their ways, and no stranger to the flattering opinions of others.

But in the black descent of recent weeks, her own self-perception had been warped to the point that she hardly believed herself to have even an ounce of genuine aristocratic nature, and most certainly she felt utterly lacking in any semblance of true elegance whatsoever! In her gloomy transformation, it became easy to convince herself that she was, in fact, a con artist and fraud that had simply tricked others into buying a falsehood. An imposter of the worst sort:

A dilettante.

Spike’s earnest emerald gaze laid waste to this negative perception, cutting through it cleanly.

Rarity’s facade was also a casualty.

The tears came swiftly, her emotions choking her throat as her vision clouded.

She tried, vainly, to stop the flow, but even as she bit her lip and turned her head, the sobs seemed to tear through her, and she broke down in mere seconds. Even hidden behind the sales counter, this turned the heads of her customers.

Spike, naturally alarmed, touched a clawed hand to her shoulder, his voice tight with panic: “Rarity?! I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—!”

She shook her head quickly, her glossed trembling lips spreading into an unsteady smile as she laughed and wept. Her hooves swept Spike up into a bone crushing hug to rival Pinkie’s, and his little arms encircled her neck. He touched her mane with hesitant strokes, his scales warm against her hide, but he didn’t protest.

They stayed that way for some time before Rarity felt herself calm enough to release him.

Spike gazed up at her, his face flushed and his brow tight. “Are you okay?”

She giggled and dabbed at her eyes, no doubt running with mascara. She cupped his cheeks with her hooves and said with a small sniffle, “Yes, Spike. I am. Thank you.”

Rarity levitated the glue from the basket. “Come! Let us add your touching contribution before I perish from the sight of a smiling foal next!”

Spike beamed. “Or a cute kitten!”

She dissolved into giggles.








Her customers had certainly stared that afternoon, and who could blame them after her emotional outburst? But with Spike at her side, Rarity rallied her courage and set forth with her bold idea—

To everypony present, she explained with head held high, that she would appreciate their contributions to her curious little project. Rarity encouraged honesty, and she invited them to view the curtain of links for ideas of new things to add. She set out the hat box with a slot opening cut in the lid, along with a neat cursive sign.

By closing, a quick shake of the box told her that some had indeed taken her up on the offer.

Still, she put off looking at the slips for that evening.

I’m a tad too sensitive to go straight for the plunge, I dare say!

Instead, Rarity added yet another ring to her growing tapestry:

Expressive

It wasn’t really a positive or negative in her opinion. Oh, of course, some would see it as a definitive positive, but then she couldn’t help but think with a small titter that her death throes would no doubt be called ‘expressive’ as well.

Death. It still lingered on her mind, especially in those moments when she seemed to be running out of energy to keep up the pluck. ‘Fake it Till You Make It’ had run on to a very long performance, and she was sure even the most grizzled of method actors would be begging off the role!

When she let herself be self-aware (because self-delusion was so much easier when you weren’t bone-tired) Rarity recognized that romanticizing death was... problematic. Dangerous, even. But even as the dark woods of depression thinned about her, she still cast her eyes backward and felt a grim relief knowing that the Final Escape was always there.

Waiting.

Rarity really wasn’t certain when it had become normal to think of suicide and feel comforted by it. As a foal, death had been a terrifying concept to her. Death meant the end of inspiration, and artistic freedom, and laughter, and love, and all things beautiful.

But now…  As a grown mare, she’d already suffered without inspiration, laughter, and love. She’d languished under her own self-imposed artistic tyranny, and nothing about life seemed beautiful in that misery.

After all that, death didn’t seem so awful anymore…

I suppose this is why we reach out. So that others can remind us that the struggle to live is well worth it.

With another day done, and her knight-in-shining-scales having retired back to his home, Rarity let herself sink into her gossip nook with a cup of herbal tea. The curtain was drawn.  Right now, she didn’t really feel like looking out at the world— that place that was so… bloody functioning.

It truly feels as though I’m the only one going through this sometimes… she thought with a bitter little sigh.

Rarity looked at her reflection in her teacup, turning her head this way and that, before tsking at her gaunt cheeks and looking away.

How can Twilight want a waif like me?

Uncertainty flowed into her mind like foulest miasma. Was she enough for Twilight Sparkle? Her friend was royalty, with an intellect that rivaled the greatest minds known to history. Rarity was nothing more than a small town filly with grandiose dreams and a sewing machine.

She squeezed her eyes shut, a lump rising in her throat as tears burned her eyes—but she willed them back.

NO! Blast it all, just cease with the self-pity! I already know she wants to be with me.

She set her teacup down on the stand and curled up on her cushion, her tail tucking in close. She sighed, feeling heavy, her mind’s eye enraptured with the visage of Twilight, the princess’ eyes filled with love.

And I so want her… with all my heart.

Still the question lingered…

Was her heart strong enough?









The next day, she received a letter from Twilight.

Rarity’s heart simply leapt when it appeared in a flash of dragonfire. The letter was in a square envelope, not rolled and bearing a royal seal like Twilight’s usual missives. The envelope lacked any kind of special marking or address— though Rarity supposed it would be unnecessary. After all, who else sent messages by dragonfire?

Rarity opened the envelope hastily with her magic. After removing the neatly folded papers, she unfolded it and read:

Dear Rarity,

I hope you’re doing well. 

I’ve been thinking about you so much these last few days. More than once I almost came galloping to see if you were all right. To see if there was anything I could do. 

I’d be halfway to your house before I remembered this plan was my idea, and to ruin it when you’ve been so strong in your resolve wouldn’t just defeat the purpose, it’d destroy any chance of us answering the one thing we need answered.

It feels like I’m going mad. Is it hard for you to focus, too? Every other second I find myself wondering what you’re doing. How you’re feeling.

The fashionista let out a shaky breath, her heart beating against her ribs like a wild animal fighting to break free from a cage. Oh, Twilight! Every day has been a struggle! 

She continued to read:

I was a little desperate, so I MAY have suggested to Pinkie Pie that she bring you some dessert. When she told me she was already planning on throwing you a massive surprise party with the whole town, I managed to talk her down from the idea. (You’re welcome.)

Rarity laughed, a large smile blossoming on her muzzle. The letter continued...

I later heard that Fluttershy joined her, and that you three had a fun girl’s night! I was so happy.

I’ve really missed you. All of you, even the new things. Your humor especially! I know you worry the death jokes put me off, but you should know, I’ve read a LOT of Prussian comedy. 

Rarity’s smile turned slanted. Ah! But of course those grim-faced Prussians have sweetened you to my wayward remarks! I shall have to ask what your favorite play is, then…

The letter went on to read:

I’m sorry. This was only supposed to tell you where dinner was going to be. I just can’t help myself when it comes to you. That’s why I had to stay away. If I saw you again, I wouldn’t have had the strength to see this through.

Rarity shook her head, her expression clearing. Nor I, darling. Nor I.

Twilight’s letter finished with:

I know there’s a chance you may have changed your mind by now, but I hope you’ll still meet me for dinner. I’ll be waiting outside the Ponyville Cafe at five o’ clock on the seventh day. 

I can’t wait to see you.

Sincerely,
Twilight Sparkle

P.S.
I hope you aren’t too disappointed with the location? I just figured it’s been a long time since you’ve traveled, and maybe it’d be nice to just take it easy and go somewhere close. If we decide to stay together, I promise to take you somewhere much nicer.

Rarity didn’t really care where they were meeting. She was perfectly aware this was out of the norm for her, and her mind teased her with the memory of the link in her tapestry labeled Standards, but there were more pressing matters to concern oneself with than just how fancy a locale was.

Then her eyes flashed with inspiration, and she went running to the strips basket. Taking a pen, she swiftly wrote on a white strip—

Love is PARAMOUNT.

It found an honored spot in what she planned to be the center of her paper weave.







The seventh day had arrived.

Rarity had half-expected the sun to reach into her chest and… and.. and ignite her with warmth, wonder, and excitement! She’d imagined herself rising from bed with a smile so large, her face would ache from the endless joy. Her hair would be perfect. Her coat would have a wondrous sheen. Love, they said, was a boon to one’s appearance.

Instead, she slept in, feeling unspeakably weary. When she finally did rise from bed, it was to find that she felt no warmth, but a tight and chilling cold in her gut. She stared at her reflection in the mirror, blinking slowly at her limp locks and ruffled coat. 

Not worthy of royalty.

The thought slithered into her mind faster than she could stop it.

Rarity squeezed her eyes shut and she took a deep breath.

Twilight wants to be with me. Before she was royalty, she was my friend, and she knows all of me. Accepts all of me.

Rarity’s eyes eased open. Her eyes had regained a little of their gleam.

“I cannot love her if I do not love myself,” she murmured to her reflection. “Even if I cannot trust my own judgement, I trust hers. We are worthy.”

And with that, Rarity levitated a brush to her hair and set to work.

The boutique was closed for the day, but she had much to prepare.









Five o’ clock was near. Rarity left thirty minutes early, anxious to leave her home and find some purpose other than staring at the clock. 

She’d almost come in an elaborate dress, complete with a fashionable hat and cute parasol… but she’d decided against it. After all, Twilight surely wouldn’t come dressed to the nines— it simply was not in her nature.

Rarity couldn’t resist coming in a light blue shawl, however. And she may have tried a different tact with her makeup today— a light rouge on the lips, and bolder eyeliner. It didn’t hurt to put in a little effort.

No, really, she realized.  It doesn’t hurt.  Blessed, blessed amor.  The effort doesn’t hurt!

When she arrived at the cafe, she explained to the garçon that she was expecting Twilight, and if they could please be so kind as to direct the princess to her table once she’d arrived, only to be surprised with—

“Oh! But Princess Twilight is already here!”

Rarity’s eyes grew. “I— Goodness! T-Truly? She’s already here??” She could feel the sweat start to dampen her coat. She’d thought she’d have more time to… well… gather herself.

The garçon nodded with a smile. “Yes, Miss Rarity. She’s seated inside. Please. Follow me, right this way!”

Rarity swallowed hard, and tried to make her heart calm. It’s finally happening.

She followed inside the small cafe, where the evening allowed for more intimate lighting. Warm overhead bulbs cast spotlights down onto individual tables and booths. Rarity was led to the very rear of the establishment where…

Oh my stars—

There she was. Twilight Sparkle was seated at a booth, her eyes fastened onto a little book with no clear title. Her hair seemed to shimmer under the light, gleaming strands of raspberry pink burning against the smooth sheen of midnight blue and velvet purple. Her brow was lowered in concentration over her amethyst eyes, her teeth chewing artlessly on her plump lower lip.

What was more surprising was the slim black satin ribbon about her sleek neck, tied into a neat and elegant bow, and the clear evidence that her friend had, in fact, also put on eye makeup!

Rarity sat near the table, the flames of her initial anxiety receding to cool embers. She smiled, gently, content to drink in this lovely sight for a moment before making herself known.

She shook her head, a small giggle escaping her. No doubt, Twilight also put on lip gloss… pity she’s nibbled it all away by now! But even that simply seemed to make Twilight more adorable still.

The sound of Rarity’s humor caused Twilight’s eyes to snap up, her wingfeathers fluffing as the book clattered to the table. Upon seeing the unicorn, Twilight flushed a deep pink right through her dark coat. “R-Rarity?” Her head whipped around to look at the clock just over the booth. “Did I lose track of time again—?!”

Honestly.  Most mares— and no few stallions!— pay a fortune to Clipique for what Twilight Sparkle can produce simply by accident.  Feeling her head swim, Rarity found herself smiling broadly.

Another Twilight Sparkle effect, but this one felt rather more personal than most.

“You’re quite all right, darling,” Rarity said as she slid into the seat across from Twilight. “I am early… though not as early as you are!”

Twilight let out a breath, her ears drooping. “I’m sorry,” she said softly; almost too softly to be heard.  “I was feeling antsy in the castle, so I decided to come here and read while I waited for you.”

“What were you reading, if I may ask?” Rarity leaned forward onto the table, her lips curling as her chin rested lightly on the back of her crossed hooves.

Twilight’s eyes batted as her face cleared to something like... admiration, maybe? She cleared her throat, squeezing her eyes shut and pressing a hoof to her brow.

“Sorry,” she said again, limbs twitching slightly and sweat gathering on her brow beside the hoof. “Words. Not working.”

Inhaling sharply, Twilight dropped the hoof and gazed at Rarity with a warm smile. “I was reading poetry.” She tittered. “I may have been looking for romantic shorthand.” She quieted as her eyes went half-mast. “You... look lovely this evening.”

Ah, this mare and her research!  Is there any aspect of Twilight Sparkle that is not unfairly sweet?

Rarity could feel her cheeks tinge pink and she lowered her chin bashfully. “Thank you.” She peeked at Twilight through her lashes. “I see I’m not the only one who decided to wear something tonight! Your ribbon is charming. And to think, I had feared I overdressed.” She mirrored Twilight’s expression. “Twilight, you truly are the definition of beauty…”

Twilight let out a single, nervous chuckle. She touched a hoof to her ribbon. “That’s high praise coming from you. I just figured… you’re so wonderful, even without trying. I couldn’t just show up without any effort on my part.”

Then the princess’ brow tightened, her ears turning out. “I guess I wondered if… if maybe you’d need a little persuasion to be with me.”

“Persuasion? Then…” Rarity felt her breath leave her in a gust as she went still. “Do you mean—?”

“Rarity, I— I just want you to know, I’m sorry. I know I said things that hurt you.” Twilight’s eyes fell shut, her lip corners turning down as her ears drooped. “That wasn’t okay. I think I was just so taken aback by how you responded—”

“Twilight, I’m afraid I must stop you there,” Rarity said firmly. Twilight’s intensity was always so endearing…

And so often, misaimed.

Twilight’s eyes fluttered open, her brow tightening. “But—!”

“It’s true. Some of what you said did hurt me.” Rarity’s lips thinned and she gazed down at the glossy brown table. “But your fears had some merit. After you departed, I saw it almost immediately.”

She sighed, her ears flattening. “I was in a place of utter weakness. Your feelings for me… they were intoxicating! If we had rushed into it, I would have placed the burden of my happiness on you, demanding affirmation with your every breath whilst giving little in return.”

A slight half-smile curled to the left of her mouth. Rarity shook her head, her curls swaying with her self-reproach. “I needed this week. I needed to see that… in order to be worthy of your love, I had to value myself first. Taking responsibility for my own well-being was absolutely necessary!”

“And do you value yourself?” Twilight asked softly. “Because... I can’t put into words how much you mean to me.”

Rarity peered at her, a wry smile on her lips. “I do not think I shall ever value myself as much as you do. But… yes. I think I’ve returned to self-love of a sort.” She chortled, cheeks dimpling. “If basic self-care can be considered self-love!”

Twilight smirked. “It’s a start!”

“Even my silk noose enters my mind less often these days.” Rarity hummed, one eyebrow arching. “But without my suicidal ideations, what is left to shock you with?”

Twilight puckered her lips and looked up in thought. “Gee…” She held up a hoof and grinned. “Maybe politics?”

“Darling, if I ever deign to trade words about politics, do look twice, for I may in fact be suffering a stroke!”

This earned a laugh, and Rarity flushed, her ears quivering in delight. Oh that wonderful sound! How I missed it!

Twilight’s wings extended forward, hugging around her legs as she shook with giggles.

“Ah, but wait!” Rarity said with a small titter. “Could you perhaps stomach the horrors of…” She struck the table with both hooves, leaning forward dramatically. “Bookkeeping?!”

Twilight’s hooves swept to her cheeks as she gasped. “No! Not that!”

Rarity pressed the back of a hoof to her forehead. “Yes! You do not know true terror until you’ve realized…” her eyes narrowed and her voice dropped to a hiss, “You forgot to carry the one!”

Twilight threw her head back, fresh peals of laughter escaping her. Rarity joined her, her amusement buoyed over the fact of how niche their shared joke was.

A link, one might say.

When the pair calmed, a new garçon approached. “Good evening, ladies,” he greeted with a practiced smile. “May I get you anything?”

The pair ordered wine— though Rarity requested moscato, and Twilight a malbec. When the garçon left to fetch their drinks, the fashionista remarked, “I wouldn’t have thought you favored dry wine!”

Twilight Sparkle batted her eyes. “Oh?” She tapped an idle hoof on the table, her gaze fogging as she mulled this over. “I suppose I have my father to thank. He was the one who introduced it to me. And anyway, reds are supposed to be healthy for you… in small amounts, that is, but who's measuring?” She smirked a little. “I am less surprised by your choice, though!”

Rarity jutted her lower lip, anticipating teasing at her expense.

Twilight smiled, her eyes going soft. “Because you are just as sweet and vibrant.”

The blush came quick as Rarity tucked her chin.

“So am I safe in assuming that… that you haven’t changed your mind?” Twilight’s voice sounded small.

Rarity felt her breath seize, her brow wrinkling.

How could she still wonder? With every second spent in her radiance, I am fighting for self-restraint!

Then her expression cleared with sudden understanding.

She wonders… the same way that I wondered. Even after hearing her ardent confession, I still feared she didn’t truly want me…

Rarity slid out from her side of the booth. Twilight watched her, her expression nonplussed. The fashionista went slowly to the princess’ side. Her eyes held fast to Twilight’s with nervous yearning. Would this overture be rejected?

Rarity joined Twilight on that side of the booth, making the princess stammer apologies as she scooted over in alarm. Rarity had expected that, so just before the alicorn could slide too far away, she kissed her on the cheek. This effectively halted her friend’s polite attempt at making space, her wings fluffing, and allowed the unicorn to sit flank-to-flank with her companion.

“This is where I want to be, Twilight Sparkle,” she murmured, flirting her lashes as she laid a hoof over Twilight’s. “Never in my life have I known such caring, such compassion, such understanding as when I am with you. That you deem me enough is a gift all on its own, and I want so much to make you happy… like you’ve made me.”

Twilight was shivering, her eyes wide. Just as she opened her mouth to speak, the garçon returned with their drinks. Polite words and meaningless babble held the moment on pause.

After he was gone, Rarity giggled and levitated Twilight’s glass in the air. “A touch of liquid courage, ma chérie?”

This seemed to help the other mare out of it. Twilight chuckled, a very crooked smile on her muzzle as her aura overtook the glass and she took a sip. Licking her lips, she looked at Rarity sidelong.

“You should be proud!” she said, her smile curling. “Considering the amount of words that can come out of me, you’re pretty good at getting me to shut up!”

Rarity winked as she levitated her own glass. “Years of handling chatty nobles, darling.”

Twilight cocked her head to the side, her eyelids lowering. “I can save you some effort, though.”

“Mmm?” Rarity swallowed her sip of wine and set her glass down as she looked at Twilight curiously. “Pray, tell me? In what way?”

Twilight leaned in and caught Rarity’s lips, her breath hot against the unicorn’s cheek. Rarity’s eyes turned round before falling shut.

When Twilight pulled away, the pair were both sporting a warm glow about their hides, but each were smiling.

“Ah, yes,” Rarity murmured, her head tilting to the side so that her curls slipped over her shoulder. “That is a rather effective method.”

Twilight shrugged. “Um. Pretty effective! Heh, yeah.” She seemed to need a moment to absorb the success of her brief boldness before the nervousness left her smile. She nuzzled Rarity’s cheek, and murmured, “Feel free to use it whenever you deem it necessary…”

Rarity leaned in to Twilight’s touch, savoring it. “May I use it even when it is unnecessary?”

“Especially then.”

“You’re giving me a rather large blank check, dear.”

“That’s fine. I’m already willing to give you everything.”

Rarity felt her breathing quicken as she pulled back; just far enough that they were muzzle to muzzle and gazing into each other’s eyes.

“That’s what I was trying to say before, Rarity,” Twilight breathed, her eyes tensing. “I… love you. I love you enough that I don’t care if every day is a rainy day, I just want to be with you! I shouldn’t have let my fears get in the way of that!”

Rarity held her face with both her hooves, her eyes tearing. “Twilight Sparkle, you…” She sighed roughly, a pursed smile spreading her lips. “You are such a silly mare!”

Twilight blinked, her expression going blank. “C-Come again?”

Rarity laughed and kissed her nose. “I’m afraid if you’re truly wishing for an explanation, then we will have to cut this dinner date short.” Her ears flicked as she released her friend and sat back. “I have something to show you. Back at my boutique.”

Twilight’s amethyst eyes searched Rarity’s features, no doubt hoping for a clue as to what this ‘something’ was. After a moment, she nodded her head, a warm smile once again on her face. “All right.”









At her home, Rarity ushered Twilight into the dark boutique space before shutting the door behind them.

“So what is this thing you want to show me?” Twilight asked mildly as she ambled to the center of the boutique floor.

Rarity smirked, knowing full well that Twilight was practically bursting at the seams to know how this surprise related to her declaration of love.

The unicorn’s horn glowed blue with her aura as she turned on lights around the room.

“Look up, if you please. Toward my sales counter,” she said.

Twilight raised an eyebrow but did as she was told. She went rock still when she finally saw it. “Paper… chains?”

“One big tapestry, actually,” Rarity corrected, nervous laughter evident in her voice. 

She sat next to Twilight and looked up at the work she’d finally completed that day. It hung high on the wall, a beautiful array of connecting diamonds, each composed with colors that, while not always perfectly coordinating with each other, held a hidden meaning that spoke volumes to her soul.

Rarity held up a hoof. “I took our talks to heart, and began this as a way of dealing with my dissociation and depression.” She looked at Twilight, small flutters of anxiety leaping within her. Would this seem too eccentric? Her ears turned out as she worried.

But they were here. Finally here! She’d come too far to second guess now! She was an artist, wasn’t she? Eccentricities were to be expected.

Remember our purpose. We must make her see!

With some assurance regained, Rarity returned her gaze to the tapestry. “It started rather small. I’d take a strip, write an observation about myself, or maybe even jot down an important memory... Then, pip!” She flicked a hoof. “Off it went to join the weave!”

Her horn glowed as she carefully removed the tapestry from the wall and gently floated it down to the boutique floor where she laid it out before them. It was easily taller and longer than both of them combined.

Twilight’s eyes lit with intensity as she hurried to it with pricked ears, her head lowering as she carefully tried to read the markings on each strip. Rarity stifled an affectionate laugh.

Ever the curious one.

She watched Twilight for a short time, a calm settling over her as she curled her tail along her flank. She had been silly to think Twilight would find this too much. Her friend’s body still thrummed with that intellectual energy that practically thirsted for such exercises as these.

When Rarity spoke again, it was with a slower, more ponderous tone. Her brow creased with the memories of the week. “This was a curious experience, and one that I hadn’t particularly thought through. I had hopes of what it would achieve, certainly… but they were narrow and misguided.”

Twilight lifted her head to peer back at her, her expression clear but her eyes focused with apparent interest. 

Rarity met her gaze. “As the tapestry grew, I asked myself many things. Would I ever finish this? Could I? At which point would I feel it was ‘complete’?” She lowered her eyes, and they narrowed at the floor. “I so wished to regain an understanding of myself. I also yearned to find a return to my ideal self.” 

Her head tilted to the side, her voice lightening. “But can any bloody creature examine themselves with that level of self-awareness and self-honesty? Heavens, no! That was when I realized I had no choice but to accept the relative truth of each link I made.”

Twilight Sparkle looked down at the tapestry again but didn’t move in to read the entries. Her lips pressed thin. “Mmm…” she murmured pensively.

Rarity sighed with a touch of drama. “Oh the angst! I’m afraid such avante-garde experiments are not my forte! But still, I pressed on.” Her blue eyes swept over her work, a solemn expression overcoming her features. “I wanted so very badly to find that ringing commonality between who I currently was and with the better versions of myself that I remembered.”

“And did you find that link?” Twilight asked. She looked back at Rarity, her silky tresses spilling forward in a starry curtain that captured the other mare’s attention for a brief, but critical moment.

Rarity found Twilight’s eyes with some effort and shivered at the open care that shone in them. It was as though Twilight’s love reached across the space between them to give her soul a warm hug, whispering all the while, It’s all right, I’m here...

“No,” Rarity said breathlessly after a long moment. Her brow tightened. “No, I’m afraid I didn’t.” She rose to her hooves and stepped around the other side of the tapestry, opposite Twilight. All the while, their eyes never left each other. “But that was because I realized there was no single thread. No unmistakable link. Just a weave that had been turned over to a darker side.”

Twilight’s lips curled up as she nodded. “And how did you come to see that?”

Rarity inhaled and pointed at the pink, yellow, and green links she’d carefully grouped at her side of the tapestry. “Because of them. Our friends.” She sat and laid a hoof over her heart. “When Fluttershy and Pinkie Pie learned of my endeavor, they begged to add something. Spike as well. The things they wrote about me… Twilight, I was so moved!”

The fashionista let her eyes fall shut. “I was so moved, and yet ever so conflicted. Were these things even true of me anymore? It was a question I’d been avoiding truly answering, it turned out.”

Twilight nodded slowly. “You’d already convinced yourself those parts of you were gone before you even really gave yourself or anyone else a chance to challenge the fear.”

Rarity opened her eyes and saw Twilight was moving slowly around the tapestry—toward her.

“Yes,” Rarity murmured. “My conflict became even more pronounced when I invited others to contribute something. I received some negative comments, yes. But not so many, it turned out. It was all the other comments that had me so frustrated!” 

Her lips puckered with a skepticism she couldn’t quite bury. “Confident, one said. Resilient, said another.” She looked up as she tried to recall more notable submissions. “The Cakes praised me as resourceful for crafting last minute outfits for their first family photo. Mayor Mare declared that I was a community treasure for all that I’d done for Ponyville.” 

Rarity let loose one tight laugh as she thought of her sister’s entry. “Sweetie Belle wrote that I was equal parts conceited and self-sacrificing!”

Twilight smirked. “Siblings! They're good like that.” 

Rarity groaned with a little shake of her head. “But what was the reality of my identity in any of these well-meaning comments? Who was I? When I forced myself to sit and face that, I found that some links fell away…”

“While others appeared,” Twilight said quietly. She was closer now, wings partially extended and her tail flicking. “I bet some of these new ones even sounded similar to those they replaced, but with a twist. A merging of the others’ truth to yours.”

Rarity watched her approach with a growing smile. “Twilight Sparkle, were you spying on me?” she teased. “That is precisely what happened!”

Twilight chuckled. “No, no…” She glanced at the tapestry. “I just know you’re intelligent. Far more intelligent than you give yourself credit for. You’d no doubt have realized that—”

“Some of my own perceptions of myself were simply observations of the same truth from a different angle than those around me?” Rarity offered with a quirked eyebrow. “That the core of who I am, though evolving, was still intact?”

Twilight winked. “See, what’d I tell ya? Intelligent.”

Rarity pretended to snort derisively. “Well it hardly takes a scholar to see that none of this would have been possible without my love for you!”

Twilight paused, a mere few feet away now. “Your love for...?” Her eyes grew.

“You.” Rarity rose up, and took a step toward the princess. “With the creation of every ring in this tapestry, you were never far from my mind. More than anything, I wanted you to see how important it was to find myself again… so that the whole of me could be with you, Twilight Sparkle.”

She took another step. “My dear, if there was one thing I learned from this rather confusing journey,” and closer still, “it’s that I could endure just about anything—even an indifferent universe—knowing that you loved me.”

Twilight’s wings were spread wide now, her feathers quivering. The heated glow had returned to her coat, making her sleek trembling form even more inviting.

Rarity took one last step, their muzzles practically touching. “Having heard you confess as much…” she closed the last maddening inches between them, brushing lips. Into Twilight’s parted mouth, she whispered, “I’m convinced that all the little rings were worth it.”

Twilight let out a shuddering breath. “Rarity, I—”

That was when Rarity took Twilight up on her offer of stopping those excess words.

After all… what more could they say? They loved each other. Fun as it was to find flowery ways to say it, nothing surpassed the sheer ecstasy of a loving kiss.
> Epilogue
> --------------------------------------------------------------------------


One Year Later









The bed felt like a blessed haven from a world that clamored with obnoxious demands. She was warm here. Safe here. Hadn’t she done everything she could for the fashion show? That wouldn’t start for hours. She had danced with her ambitions with all the pep and vigor that her creative fervor could muster. Rest felt deserving. 

She would get up. She would. 

Just... not right now.

There was nothing more cherished than the tranquil peace of one’s own nest, after all.

“Rarity,” Twilight’s voice reached through the dark, twinkling with a jubilance that made Rarity’s ears perk up.

...Almost nothing.

Rarity raised her dishevelled head, having long ago accepted Twilight into the intimate arenas of her existence. Such was easy enough when one was sleeping in the ruler of Equestria’s utterly majestic bed in Canterlot Castle. This had been the case for months now.

One of the double doors leading into the bed chambers opened wider, allowing the daylight to slice a single bold column over Rarity’s recumbent form.

Rarity groaned and let her head fall back against her lush pillow. “Darling, it is much too early for such radiance!” Her magic pulled the sheets over her head. “Have mercy, will you?”

“Oops! Sorry.” The door creaked shut, and Rarity sighed in relief as the day’s glow vanished.

“Is that better?” Twilight asked mildly. She was much closer now.

Rarity pulled the sheets back and was greeted by the lovely sight of Twilight Sparkle gazing down at her with a rueful smile. Even in the room’s dim lighting, her figure radiated with a cheery luster borne of ancient magic. Her amethyst eyes glittered with burning affection. Sitting atop her mane was the royal crown.

“Mmmm…” Rarity smiled sleepily and raised herself up on a leg, the bedsheet slipping off her shoulder. “That depends, my dear…”

Twilight cocked her head to the side, her smile widening. This was a familiar game. “On what, hon?”

Rarity beckoned with her other hoof, and Twilight pressed in closer. In the year since they’d become a couple, the alicorn had grown tall enough to warrant looking up—even with Rarity on a raised mattress and Twilight standing next to it.

When Rarity felt Twilight had come close enough, she leaned in toward a flicking ear and breathed, “It depends on whether or not you’ve brought hot…” her voice dropped lower, becoming breathier, “...black…” even lower, “...coffee.”

Twilight reared her head back with a laugh, and Rarity smirked her satisfaction. Making her lover laugh was one of the greatest joys in her life.

Twilight winked down at her. “Have faith in your fiancée!” She gestured with a wing back toward the doors. “I wouldn’t dare come and disturb you without being prepared! I have a trolley with coffee and breakfast waiting outside.”

“Delightful!” Rarity sighed. “You really are too good to me.”

Twilight leaned on the bed, her legs bending as she half-layed on the mattress. This brought them almost face to face, with Rarity’s head now just a little higher. 

Twilight’s gaze softened. “Today’s the big day. How are you feeling?” she asked gently. Her features had smoothed with muted concern.

Rarity turned somber as her ears drooped a little. There was no concealing things when it came to Twilight. She was far too in tune to Rarity’s heartsong, and there had certainly been a change in the music of her being in recent weeks. Subtle shifts in her behavior, like off-tune notes, rang like alarm bells.

Rarity’s instinct, old as it was, was to deny anything was wrong. She held it back, her throat tightening. Instead, she considered Twilight’s question seriously. 

In the time leading up to her latest fashion show, she had dipped into a new depression. It was not as severe as when their relationship had first started, but impressive still in its length. 

Her appetite diminished. Her attention wandered. She burst into tears at inconvenient moments. Other times, she struggled to feel anything at all.

The silk noose had swung pretty and inviting in her mind’s eye against the backdrop of inky oblivion.

Twilight had kept near, a protective presence that radiated with love and acceptance. The princess remained attentive to Rarity’s needs throughout this recent melancholy, and never did her attention feel stifling. Rarity was just sorry she had worried her lover so. 

Early on, she tried, vainly, to feigin cheer and enthusiasm for Twilight’s sake. Every time, she was reminded such performances only served to prick the alicorn’s ears higher. Twilight never missed a discordant note in their love’s music.

After a long moment, Rarity met Twilight’s eyes. “Lethargic,” she answered finally. “I feel lethargic. Perhaps even apathetic.” Her brows pushed down. “But not unable. I believe I can soldier on through.”

She touched a hoof to Twilight’s cheek. “Rest assured, my love. The show will go on.” The fashion show. The long performance that was her life… Yes, all the shows would go on.

Twilight nodded once, a little smile returning to her face. “Then maybe I can help you feel more energized.” She straightened up, but before she rose all the way, she paused to kiss Rarity’s cheek. “I have a surprise for you, after you’ve eaten and had your morning elixir.” Her smile turned crooked as she slid off the bed and turned for the door. “Though, I suppose it would be afternoon elixir now. It’s past noon.”

Rarity’s eyes blinked wide. “Oh dear.” Her horn glowed as she pushed the sheets all the way off of her body. “There’s nothing for it, then.” She sighed, trying to muster up the will. “I shall rise!”

After breakfast, coffee, and a vigorous session in front of her vanity mirror, Rarity emerged from the bed chambers sometime later, squinting against the sunlight. 

A royal guard stepped forward, his eyes staring ahead with practiced discipline. “Pardon me, m’lady. The princess wished for me to inform you that she is awaiting your presence in the conference room.”

Rarity gave a gracious tilt of her head. It had taken some getting used to, being treated with such respect by guard ponies and castle staff. But adaptable had been a word solidly part of her chainmail tapestry. She had learned to accept these things with all the assurance demanded of the future wife of royalty.

As she made her way along the red carpeted hallways, her mind wandered to the evening Twilight had asked her hoof in marriage. 

It had been some months ago. Twilight’s coat glistened with sweat under the moonlight. They had been taking a walk through the royal garden, the air fragrant with jasmine and roses.

“Rarity, th-there’s something I’d like to ask you. I— that is, um…” Twilight pranced on her hooves, her tail swishing nervously. “Gosh, this all seemed so much easier in front of the mirror, ha!” She shivered. “I, uh—!” she laughed suddenly, the sound high and fast. 

Rarity regarded her with patient affection. If Twilight had learned to deal with the ebb and flow of her depression, the fashionista had in turn become well-versed in handling her lover’s spikes of anxiety. “My love... take a deep breath,” she said, touching Twilight’s hoof.

Twilight nodded jerkily and did as she was told, her wings extending as she inhaled noisily, her chest expanding.

Rarity’s lips curled upwards. “Now let it out. Slowly.”

Twilight exhaled, her stiff spine relaxing as she did so.

Rarity stepped close and nuzzled her. “Very good,” she murmured. “Remember, you have nothing to fear with me, darling.” She pulled back enough to gaze into Twilight’s pretty eyes. “Now… What was it that you wished to ask me?”

Twilight brushed noses with her, her eyes lidded as her wings resettled onto her back. “Oh Rarity… I…” Her voice came out a shaky whisper, “I love you.”

Rarity’s smile widened. “I love you, too.”

“And your love has meant the world to me.” Twilight brushed her lips against Rarity’s, the contact soft but rich with need. Into Rarity’s mouth she breathed, “I want to spend the rest of my life with you!”

Rarity’s body ached with a familiar, burning want. But at the heart of the flames, a white hot realization blazed to life. “Twilight, are you…?”

Twilight pulled back, her cheeks sporting an adorable glow. She took another little breath, then she rushed out tremulously, “W-Will you marry me?”

Romance novelists wished they could capture such a rapturous moment.

Back in the present, Rarity’s lips slowly spread, long and upwards.

Her acceptance of Twilight’s proposal had begun with a moment of stunned silence, followed by an unintelligible scream, which was then swiftly ended with a tackling embrace and a hail of kisses. Rarity had truly believed that was the happiest day of her life. Surely, any misery could be dispelled with even the briefest recollection of that glorious moment.

Her smile waned as she rounded the corner, her eyes turning downcast.

But no spell of sorrow was vanquished in this way. Her spirit still found itself waylaid by doldrums. Doubt always managed to wriggle its way into her mind. Depression nibbled at her dreams and pulled at her ideas. 

Not good enough for Twilight Sparkle, the Princess of Friendship. Certainly not good enough to help lead an entire kingdom. We can barely run a hooffull of silly fashion stores! No wonder, given our pitiful creations...

The taunting thoughts roared loud in this latest wave of depression, the cold and salty weight of them pushing her down into the shifting sands of her misery.

Not good enough. 

Not good enough.

Not good—

She had arrived at the conference room.

Rarity took a breath, then schooled her lips into a pleasant smile. Even if Twilight could see through her performance, it was important she saw the effort. It meant she was fighting. Hanging on.

The double doors parted with Rarity’s magic, and she entered with her head held high. “Twilight Sparkle, I am practically on pins and needles to learn what your—” Rarity stopped short.

Twilight rose from her seat at the head of the conference table, her wings rustling nervously on her back. “Rarity!” She took a few steps around the table, pausing next to a chair where a dark-gray unicorn sat. “I believe you remember Cold Moon?"

Cold Moon turned her head, her green eyes finding Rarity’s. She pushed away from the table and stood. "Good afternoon, m'lady."

That even, frosty voice… It still gave her chills! 

Rarity stared. Her head turned slowly to Twilight and her mouth pressed thin.

This is your surprise? Her expression said.

Twilight’s smile turned strained and she hurried to Rarity’s side. “Er, Rarity, I hope you don’t mind, but I kind of took it upon myself to arrange this meeting today.”

Rarity sat hard, her expression cool. “Please, darling.” Her brow furrowed a little. “Do go on.”

Sweat beaded on Twilight’s forehead as she motioned for Cold Moon to come closer. “W-Well, you see, after my coronation I was briefed on a lot of secrets regarding the kingdom and its various missions around the world.” She smiled shakily. “In the course of those briefings, I learned that Cold Moon was an agent acting in Equestria’s interests!”

Cold Moon gave a small bow of the head as she stopped near them. “My service is small compared to what you, your fiancée, and your friends have done for all creatures, your majesty.” She looked at Rarity. “So I was sorry to hear my silence caused you distress.”

Rarity looked at Twilight sharply, and the alicorn shrank a little. “I mentioned your desire to know what she thought of the dress you made her!” Twilight said quickly.

Rarity sighed a little, her curly tail flopping once over the floor. Another thing she had learned to deal with in the last year— Twilight’s overeager plans. She smirked a little. She supposed it was in her fiancée’s favor that her heart was always in the right place, and her plans, though trying as they were at times, usually worked out.

Well… Except for that 'romantic' getaway to Saddle Arabia. Being lost in those blasted desert tombs with all those desiccated mummies and vile scorpions! It was enough to turn my hair white!

Her eyebrows rose and fell as she remembered— 

We did find that lovely ruby, however. And the local villagers were ever so grateful that we made their ancestral tombs safe again. 

Yes, even under such harrowing circumstances, things usually worked out. 

With her initial frustration set aside, Rarity regarded Cold Moon carefully. The other unicorn was peering at her with a steady gaze, her white mane combed back and glistening from some hair product.

“I must confess, the question had plagued me,” Rarity began mildly. She raised an eyebrow. “Seldom do I encounter customers as inscrutable as you, Miss Cold Moon!”

Cold Moon bowed her head again, deeper this time. “My apologies, Lady Rarity. I’ve been told my demeanor is frigid and overly detached.” She held a hoof over her heart. “Though that trait has served me in my service to the kingdom, it has clearly done a disservice to you. You must know, it wasn’t my intention.” 

When her eyes met Rarity’s again, it was with tension about the eyes. The only hint that she was, in fact, sorry.

“I was in preparation for a mission that I am, sadly, not at liberty to discuss in detail.” Cold Moon gestured around them. “You should know that it was in this very room that Princess Celestia recommended your services for a dress that I would be requiring for this mission.”

Rarity’s ears turned out. Could this really be true? “So when I was asking you all those questions during the fitting…”

Cold Moon gave a small shrug. “I’m afraid I wasn’t free to speak about such things.”

Rarity tilted her head back and closed her eyes. Her lips twitched upwards. “And the letter that I sent you…”

“I was engaged in my mission at that point. By the time I returned and received the letter, I’d assumed you didn’t care anymore.” Cold Moon turned over a hoof. “I became busy, and soon the matter slipped my mind entirely.” She bowed her head again. “I must apologize again.”

Rarity waved it away, smiling softly now. A simple misunderstanding… Good heavens, and to think I hovered so close to—

No. Twilight was there. We never would have followed through. We never will. 

“I loved the dress,” Cold Moon said. Her lips lifted in the briefest of smiles. “I still have it, in fact. It hangs where I can see it every day.”

Rarity blinked once. Twice.

“Thank you!” she finally said, a little out of breath.

Well! What a strange conclusion!

She beamed.

A strange and most welcome conclusion, at that!

Twilight, who had been looking between them like an eager spectator at a tennis match, clopped her hooves. “Excellent!” She looked at Cold Moon. “Thank you so much for taking the time to visit with us today. Will you be free for Rarity’s fashion show this evening?”

“I look forward to it,” Cold Moon said. “Though I have business to attend to before then. If you’ll excuse me, your highness.” She looked at Rarity. “M’lady.”

Rarity and Twilight watched Cold Moon depart. When the doors closed behind her, Twilight put a wing over Rarity’s back.

“Sorry,” she murmured. “Maybe my surprise was a bit too much of a surprise… But did that help you feel better at all?”

Rarity hummed, her eyes winking with mischief. “I dare say that today’s meeting packed more punch than that meager cup of coffee!”

Twilight winced, and Rarity giggled before giving her a peck on the lips. “Thank you, Twilight,” she murmured with a flutter of her lashes. “That you went to such lengths is far more comforting to me than anything Cold Moon could have said.”

Twilight hugged her gently, her eyelids lowering. “Not so concerned with the indifferent universe anymore, huh?”

Rarity held Twilight’s face with her hooves. “My dear,” she said quietly. “More than just the tapestry of who I am, there is the unmistakable link between us and our loved ones that I fight to hold on to. That is what matters to me.” 

Her eyes lowered. “And though I may stumble, I have faith that those who care about me will help me find the light again.”

Twilight tilted Rarity’s face up with a hoof before kissing her deeply. Rarity melted into the contact, feeling that same safety and warmth she’d felt in the bed return—but stronger.

When they pulled away, Rarity laid her cheek on Twilight’s chest, and in turn, Twilight laid her head on Rarity’s hair.

“Our friends and I will always help you find the light again, Rarity. I love you. So, so much,” Twilight breathed. Her hug squeezed a little.

Rarity smiled so hard, her face ached. “And I love you, Twilight. So, so, very much…”