She sat in the cramped cafe booth, a cup of tea pressed in between her hooves as she stared outside at the flooded streets. The lights flickered in the unforgiving atmosphere outside, dancing in tiny glows beyond the tempered glass.
Raindrops dotted the panes as the wind shifted their direction, like a conductor guiding a symphony. With every second that passed the torrent grew louder and worse, accentuated with flashes of lightning and the rolling crack of thunder.
Rarity knew that it bothered her.
She gazed down into her cup of tea, watching as the steam danced upwards in a spiraling and hypnotic column. If she squinted she could pretend the steam was something else, and that it wasn’t raining and that she wasn’t somewhere in Germaney.
The steam could be from a Prance train, and the thunder could be the engines roaring as it prepared to thunder out of the station, burying the voices of Rarity’s friends as they discussed the Wonderbolts show they had just watched.
Or the steam was smoke from the ruined Golden Oak Library, hanging heavy in the silence as the building sang a quiet song of destruction.
Or it was an early morning fog rolling into Ponyville, as Rarity and a faceless friend stumbled home from a night of drinking.
Rarity knew that none of these were true because it was raining, and it bothered her.
“What’s wrong, Rarity?”
Rarity’s ear twitched as she looked up, through the curtain of steam. Twilight sat on the other side of her, levitating a cup of her own. The young unicorn’s eyes were glowing, much like the gentle streetlight outside, surrounded by a crashing ocean of rain that threatened to collapse and swallow it whole.
“Nothing, darling,” Rarity said.
Rarity knew that her words were empty and hollow, even if she didn’t want to believe it.
She squeezed her eyes shut and imagined for a second that she was home.
With little difficulty, she pictured her bedroom. She imagined her four-poster bed with its lush sheets and soft pillows, its familiar comforters and warm fuzzy blankets. All around it, the rest of her things flickered: her ideas board, her purple heavyset curtains, the framed photos on the wall… all of it danced around the bed in a swirling, circular dance.
And she could almost hear the song as well.
“Do you ever think of having a quiet life, Twilight?” Rarity asked.
Twilight looked up, tilting her head to the side. “Hm?”
“Perhaps I’m a romantic, darling, but do you ever think of those quiet moments? Back home, maybe, when we were together. When we were happy.”
“Sometimes, I suppose,” Twilight answered. “But we’ll be heading back soon. Gosh, I can’t even think of the first thing I’ll do when we get back…”
Rarity pictured herself walking back into her foyer. She imagined herself entering her living room and collapsing on the couch. Rarity lay there for a few seconds, or maybe a few hours, before she got up again, wrought with the desire to do something.
But a glance outside told her it was raining. A glance outside told her that it bothered her. So she lay back down, defeated.
Rarity knew she was not at home. But that didn’t stop her from making a list of everything she’d do as soon as she got there.
“I guess that didn’t answer your question,” Twilight said again, her voice like a beam of light through a sea of ice.
Rarity looked up to bask in the glow of her eyes again, pressing her hooves tighter against her tea cup. “Please do.”
Twilight tapped her chin in thought, letting out a low hum that reminded Rarity of the rumble of thunder outside. “Hm. I guess I do think that things have been moving a little bit fast, but I guess that’s just how our lives are nowadays.”
“I know, I know, I know,” Rarity mumbled. “You have your business as princess just as much as I have my stores. But I do wish I could spend more time with the girls… with you.”
Twilight reached out and touched Rarity’s hoof. The movement made the hairs on the back of her mane stand up. “I do too, Rarity, but things change. Sometimes we lose things and can never get them back.”
Her voice broke upon Rarity like a wave against the shore, before she pulled her hoof away like the ocean did the water, and Rarity was almost ready for it to surge forwards and drench her again.
She looked around the cafe. It was late, or perhaps it was early. There were no other ponies in the cafe, and no conversations or clinking silverware to fill the void.
Rarity pressed her hooves against the cup tighter, feeling it tremble in her grasp. “Twilight,” she said again, almost desperately.
“I had to go,” Twilight replied evenly.
“I know,” Rarity said, her heart pounding in her chest.
A roaring crack of thunder filled the air as rainwater flooded the streets. It seemed to surge higher and higher against the cafe doors, dousing out any light from outside.
“Twilight,” she said again.
She pushed her hooves together harder and the porcelain shattered. Rarity didn’t notice. She looked out the window to see there was nothing there.
The doors burst open and the water surged into the room. It rose and rose, filling the room to the ceiling.
Rarity gasped for air, her chest rising and falling and rising again. She reached out across the table as the pieces of her cup floated past her face. But Twilight was so far away.
Through the murky water she saw the glowing of Twilight’s eyes. She said something, but it was muffled and garbled.
Rarity opened her mouth and bubbles escaped, clawing their way up and to the surface. Nothing came out, and Twilight’s eyes slowly began to fade away.
The smell of rain and ozone hung heavily in the air.
Rarity knew that the forecast called for chilly, rainy weather. The puddles on the floor and the layer of water which covered everything seemed to prove that. Everyone seemed to be staying at home today, judging by how empty and quiet the streets were.
There was still time before the sun set, however, and Sweetie Belle never did seem to mind the rain.
She stood at the stairs of the playground, staring at the bright yellow slide with a longing look on her face.
“Sweetie, darling, you’ll get wet,” Rarity called, tightening her scarf against the wind.
“No I won’t!” cheered Sweetie Belle. “I’m wearing a raincoat!”
Rarity couldn’t help but chuckle at that. “Still, I don’t want you to be wet when we go home. You shake yourself like a dog and just ruin my rugs.”
“Okay, Rarity,” Sweetie answered, coming off of the play structure. “Can I sit on the swing at least?”
“Fine, darling,” Rarity answered, rising from the park bench like the summer sun over the hills. She lit up a heating spell, warming the seat and turning the water to steam.
Rarity knew that Sweetie was still young and eager for a cutie mark. If she had to indulge her sister like this, then what was the harm?
Sweetie settled down onto the uncomfortable rubber, gripping the chains with her hooves as the structure sank under her weight.
Rarity smiled, trotting up behind her and gently pushing her sister with a hoof. “We can’t stay for long, though. It’s getting late.”
She looked around the park, noting how empty and quiet it was. Not even the squirrels or the birds were out there, leaving behind a waterlogged world of unused seesaws and slides too soggy to use.
Sweetie began gaining momentum, and she gained a little more distance with every push that Rarity gave.
It was nice, finally spending time with her sister. Their timing didn’t always line up well, as Sweetie would often be off with her friends when Rarity was free and vice versa.
Something tugged at Rarity’s mind. Something felt… off, although she couldn’t place it. She looked around the playground again as the sun began to fall deeper over the horizon, at the empty benches and mounted metal trash cans.
“So how did gardening go?” Sweetie asked, her voice growing closer as she swung back towards Rarity.
“Hm?”
Sweetie giggled, her laugh growing distant as Rarity pushed her away again. “Your letter! You said that you were going to try gardening when you got back.”
“Oh, yes, I suppose I did,” Rarity mused. “I… never did get around to it.”
“But you’ve been home for awhile now.”
Rarity grit her teeth at that. “Yes, I have.”
“So did you just never get around to it? Like playing the guitar, or learning pottery, or studying weather patterns and birdwatching and--”
“I get the idea,” Rarity snapped, shoving Sweetie harder than she intended.
If Sweetie was hurt, she didn’t show it.
“I’m just saying, Rarity.” Sweetie’s voice grew closer again. “It kind of feels like you’re trying to carve a new pony out of stone every time you come back.”
Rarity frowned, her own voice dropping low. “Well, so what? I’m allowed to try to feel whole again, aren’t I? Am I allowed to romanticize my own life, and dream of all the fantasies I never had because it’s far too late to bring them forwards?”
“Maybe, maybe not,” Sweetie answered, and Rarity growled and shoved her away again.
“Half of my life is gone now, darling. You really don’t understand, do you?”
“How can I,” Sweetie asked from far away. Rarity looked up to see her in the air, far away and distant. “If you never let me know?”
Rarity pursed her lips at that. “Well… I suppose that’s fair, but why should I tell you? It’s… it’s far safer if you aren’t privy to my troubles.”
“Safer for you or for me?” With every word, Sweetie seemed to continue her arc, rising higher and higher into the air.
Rarity’s jaw fell open in shock. “I…”
Sweetie giggled, and as Rarity watched, she reached the crest of her swing and began to fall back towards her.
“Sweetie, you have your own life. You have your own friends, your own jobs. You don’t need to waste time on me,” Rarity said, desperate without a reason. “It’s better if you just leave me well enough alone.”
But her words lost the fight with gravity, and Sweetie fell back towards her.
“You can’t keep pushing everyone away, Rarity. You’ll never get over your fear of loss that way,”
Sweetie came to a stop in front of her and hopped off the swingset, the dying sunlight almost reflecting off of her cutie mark. She offered Rarity a smile.
When had Sweetie gotten so tall?
“Do you ever dream of being home?” Sweetie asked.
Rarity blinked, recognizing something familiar in those words. “What?”
“Do you ever think about living a quiet life?”
She opened her mouth and closed it, the playground suddenly feeling like a foreign place.
Wasn’t it raining a few seconds ago?
Rarity stumbled over to the bench and almost collapsed into it.
Sweetie followed behind her, as vibrant as ever.
“I had to go, Sweetie,” Rarity muttered. She looked to her right and noticed a bright blue bird laying still and lifeless on her right. It made her want to cry.
“I know, I know, I know,” Sweetie replied. “I still miss you sometimes, though.”
Rarity nodded absently, unable to pry her eyes away from the dead bird. It reminded her of Fluttershy.
Her ear twitched as there was an awful, creaky roar from nearby. A chorus of warning sirens began to caw, like a flock of crows on Nightmare Night. Their roar filled the sky with a force strong enough to block out the sun.
Rarity instinctively looked up at the partly-cloudy sky that was void of life. A gust of wind blew through her mane, sending it flapping through the wind like a banner of courage.
Sweetie blinked, ear flicking at the noise but otherwise undisturbed.
“I can’t go down here, darling,” Rarity said. She felt like she would cry. She felt like this conversation was slowly going to kill her.
She felt like rain.
Shakily, she stood up from the bench. Sweetie Belle made no motion to stop her.
The wind picked up, sending stray leaves flying past her face. “You… you should go,” Rarity choked out. “To where it’s safe.”
“Is anywhere safe?” Sweetie asked.
Rarity didn’t answer.
She set forth, but each step felt muddled and slow. Rarity bit down hard on her lip as her eyes began to sting, and the wind picked up its assault in earnest. She saw the bird swept away on her right, heading off on its last flight.
The roaring of the sirens cut through for a second, but the wind drowned it out without much effort.
Rarity pushed forwards, her teeth chattering and her heart roaring.
There was a light breaking through the clouds, where the sun used to be.
She had to catch it.
But the wind picked up and she felt her rear hooves leave the ground.
It may have smelled like rain, it may have sounded like rain, and there may have been puddles on the ground and drops against the window, but Rarity was fairly certain it wasn’t real.
She looked down at the steaming cup in front of her thoughtfully. A cheery tune played over the speakers, lucid and distant and all the more indecipherable. The fog and water drops covered the window, masking the world beyond.
A cool breeze of air cut through the world, making her shiver slightly. She looked up to see the clouds patching up the sky, glowing in a warm orange in the setting evening sun. The buildings of Ponyville stood fragile, like they would have vanished if Rarity looked away.
“Is this what it’s about?” Twilight asked, her warm eyes cutting through the cafe haze. “You’re afraid of loss?”
Rarity sighed, dipping her head low. “As much as I hate to admit it… I think I am, darling.”
The silence was only broken by the creaking of the swingset.
“I don’t think that’s something to be ashamed of,” Sweetie Belle said as she rocked gently, her hind legs dangling over the side.
Rarity pursed her lips, sipping from her now cold drink. “Perhaps not… but I don’t suppose that makes this any easier.”
“And pushing away ponies because you don’t want to lose them is?” countered Twilight. She spread her wings and they seemed to glisten.
“I suppose it isn’t healthy,” Rarity admitted, sighing. “But if it makes the pain hurt less…”
Sweetie laughed. “Rarity, is that really any better? Do you really think it will hurt less down the line, when you’re lying on your deathbed and wishing you passed before; because at least then you would be among the ponies you loved?”
Rarity thought carefully on that. “I… I don’t know.”
Twilight blinked, and for a second the warmth was gone. But it returned quickly, reaching out and seizing Rarity’s heart.
And then Rarity’s world was ablaze. Shades of color burst through the sky, reminding her of a hundred started hobbies that silently passed, and of cancelling plans only to longue about bored, and of regret and love and a million other things.
Dreams like half-finished dresses flew about her about her head, mixed with vivid shades of baby blue and neon red.
Rarity looked down at the menu beneath her hooves. Instead of plastic pictures and fancy dish names, there was a single line:
The end is near.
She blinked, hearing the distant wails of air sirens beneath the pounding storm. And Rarity stood up, the chair scraping against the cafe floor. Twilight watched as she stepped away, following her with those pale warm eyes.
She trotted over, feeling the floor morph into dirt and gravel beneath her hooves.
Sweetie Belle watched her come, swinging back and forth slightly.
Rarity looked back at them both and sighed. “I think I understand.”
“The end is here,” Twilight said.
“The end is here,” Sweetie Belle said.
Rarity turned around and trotted down the streets, accompanied by the setting sun and the screaming sirens.
As she turned and maneuvered down the roads, shadows opening up and fading away, the sun began to glow brighter and brighter, until she was bathed in a wave of ultraviolet.
She smiled gently as she basked in its glow, letting her hooves carry her onwards automatically. She felt her lips crack and fade, and she felt her fur burn slightly as the sun seemed to draw closer.
The world seemed to hold its breath, like a symphony sitting at the ready. Waiting to let loose its first note.
And who better than Rarity to count them in?
She began humming the bars to some dreadful little song she had heard over the radio: a monstrous little mix of words with horrid implications. But it had a catchy intro that she couldn’t deny.
As she continued moving, the world echoed her humming, the streets shimmering and shifting in her wake. Houses became cheery farms and grim slaughterhouses. Open empty fields became shopping malls that went on forever, and throughout it all the low rumble of thunder filled the air.
There was a flash of lightning from above and Rarity laughed, feeling the raindrops hit her skin. They penetrated deep into her body, mixing with her blood and washing into her heart.
As she looked up there was a bright, iridescent rainbow that shattered the sky into a million pieces. It ripped and tore through the air, fracturing it into tiny shards. It reminded her of something from a long time ago, when the skies opened up and she learned her destiny.
The memories floated around her like ghosts, haunting her soul like a haunted house.
At the very edge of Ponyville, there was a giant wooden sign that had been planted on the hill. It normally welcomed visitors to Ponyville, encouraging them to stop and stay for a while.
But now, it held a very different set of words: The End is Near.
“I suppose it is,” Rarity thought. She looked down at her hooves, where the grass stopped and the earth fell away into nothing.
She turned around to gaze at her home again, only to find that there was nothing there.
Rarity was left alone, with ghosts and shadows and that massive wooden sign. With nothing in front and nothing behind her, and time dripping away faster than she could catch it.
“The end is here,” she heard Twilight say.
“The end is here,” she heard Sweetie Belle say.
“The end is here,” Rarity heard herself say.
“The end is
“I know the end.”
Rarity looked around, at the other patrons sipping at the coffees and teas, and chattering happily amongst themselves.
“The end is screaming into an endless void, but without a voice to scream with. The end is falling off a cliff and believing that you are falling, though you have no way of possibly knowing.”
She stirred her tea, watching as the liquid swished around in circles with a sad, knowing smile.
“The end is always coming. Perhaps not of the story, but of something smaller. A page, or a chapter. There is no way of knowing, only knowing that it will come.”
The seat across from her was empty, of course. It always was nowadays.
Rarity reached into her bag and set some bits on the table. She stood up and left her tea unfinished, heading out into the pouring rain.
“I know the end.”
Rarity shifted back and forth, the swingset creaking as she moved back and forth.
Groups of foals dotted the playground in front of her, chasing each other and laughing under the watchful eyes of their parents.
“The end is walking down the road, ready to face the sun and all of its wrath. It is being alone, because your friends are hiding in basements and shelters, but being excited nonetheless.”
She looked up at the sky as a group of pegasi assembled the upcoming storm. A part of her was happy she had left the house today, even if it was just to sit on the swings.
“The end is setting your heart on fire to the sickening scent of perfume as it fills the air like gas. I know the end.”
Rarity sighed wistfully, not exactly sad but miles from euphoric. She chewed her lip in thought, trying to make shapes out of the clouds.
But she had lost that ability a long time ago.
Rarity looked up at the sky and wondered if it would rain.
