“Are you done yet?” Sweetie Belle whined, not for the first time.
“I would be done by now, if someone would stop squirming.” Rarity huffed, not for the first time. She worked one last line of stitches, affixing a lacy cuff into place on her sister’s dress. The two of them had played out the same exchange countless times before, which didn’t make it any easier.
“I don’t get what the big deal is. Like, isn’t this fancy enough already?” Sweetie Belle used her free hand to pick at the acres of ruffles and sashes wrapped around her.
“I can assure you, it is not.” Rarity said, fingers still working away with expert precision. “I have spent hours on research, staring at renaissance paintings until my eyes hurt, just to get every detail right, and so help me, you will be the prettiest and most historically accurate princess there ever was on a Halloween.”
“But this is taking foreeeever!” Sweetie Belle looked longingly out the window, where the setting sun painted the sky in shades of red and orange like something out of a spiced coffee commercial. “We should be out getting candy by now!”
“Everyone knows you don’t start trick or treating until dark.” Rarity worked one last stitch, then snipped off the extra thread. “Besides, our friends aren’t even here yet.”
“But it’s almost dark and Applejack’s pulling up right now.” Sweetie Belle took a step back, out of immediate tailoring range, and pointed out the window where, sure enough, a rickety old pickup truck pulled into the driveway.
“It is? She is? Oh!” Rarity tossed her needle and thread back onto her sewing table and shoved her gown-clad sister out of the bedroom. “I still need to put on my costume. Stall them! Be social! Give them candy if you have to!”
Sweetie Belle blinked. “But I--”
“No time!” Rarity said, and slammed the door behind her. This done, Rarity made a quick, frantic circuit of her room, scooping up the individual costume pieces and donning them as fast as she could. Knee high boots went over tight breeches, and a doublet with slashed sleeves made for a fine contrast with a shoulder cape in red wool. Rarity hung a (fake) rapier from a (real) leather baldric, then put on the outfit’s piece de resistance: a broad brimmed hat with an impressive white plume thrust into the band. She spared a moment to examine herself in one of her bedroom-slash-sewing shop’s many mirrors, then tilted her hat to an appropriately rakish angle.
“Perfect.” Rarity winked at her reflection, thrust a pair of gloves into her swordbelt, then went out to meet her friends. Her boots clomped across the hardwood floor as she rushed over towards the front door, where Sweetie Belle happily chitchatted away with the Apple sisters. Apple Bloom was dressed for the occasion in a functional but classic witch’s hat and long black dress, while Applejack just wore her regular jeans and flannel, with only some vaguely skullish facepaint as a nod to the season. Rarity waited for a lull in the conversation, then swept her hat off and bowed deeply.
“Rarity d’Aubigny, at your service.”
“Happy Halloween to you too, sugarcube.” The corner of Applejack’s black-painted lips turned up in a wry smile. “That’s a pretty fancy pirate costume you got there.”
“I’m not a pirate.” Rarity said, perhaps a little too quickly for politeness’ sake. “I am a musketeer.”
“What’s the difference?” Applejack said.
“Why, what isn’t the difference?” Rarity tossed her shoulder-cape back, all the better to showcase her hand-crafted attire. “A pirate is little more than a smelly thug on a boat. Whereas a musketeer is a gallant, stylish adventurer devoted to the greater good of the Kingdom.”
As Rarity and Applejack devolved into their typical friendly bickering, Applejack and Sweetie Belle rolled their eyes and moved off towards the kitchen in search of snacks.
Applejack pushed the brim of her cowboy hat up. “And the ‘Rarity Dee-Aubignee bit? That from something?”
“Not exactly?” Rarity said, perhaps a little too quickly for honesty’s sake. “I was, er-- just getting into character, that’s all. Method acting, you know. But!” She looked Applejack up and down and seized on the opportunity to change the subject. “Just what are you supposed to be?”
“Uh. Dead?” Applejack shrugged. “And scary?” She at least proved the latter part when she reached behind her back and produced a rusted hatchet. “Grr.” Applejack said, without much conviction.
“Applejack!” Rarity said, aghast. “Is that a real axe? Someone’s going to get hurt!”
“Pssh, relax, sugarcube. This thing’s older than Granny Smith and duller than watchin’ paint dry.” Applejack ran her thumb over the blunted edge of her hatchet. “It ain’t gonna hurt nobody. Just figured I’d grab somethin’ out of the barn instead of spendin’ a buncha money on a plastic thing I’m just gonna use once n’ throw away.”
“While I admire your … frugality, darling, don’t you think you could’ve been a bit more creative in your costuming choices? Why, all you would have had to do is ask, and I’d be more than happy to provide something.”
“I bet you would.” Applejack slid the handle of her dulled hatchet into her belt and crossed her arms. “You’d just love to truss me up in some fancypants getup with like, fancy stockings and a corset and all that fancy stuff.”
“Gasp!” Rarity said the full word. “To think that I would foist a costume on you against your will? What kind of designer would I be if I didn’t know how to properly interpret my client’s requests? Even if you certainly have the legs for fishnets.” The designer-turned-swashbuckler looked Applejack up and down, briefly biting her bottom lip as entirely too many design possibilities raced through her head. Before Applejack could notice (or at least mention) the slight flush rising in Rarity’s cheeks, a knock came from the door.
“And that’ll be the rest of our expedition.” Rarity said, and opened the door to a pair of slavering monsters.
“ALL HAIL GARGANTULON!” Rainbow Dash’s muffled voice issued forth from behind a set of foam-rubber mandibles. She shuffled forward as best as her centipede-kaiju costume would allow, trailing a multi legged tail behind her like the world’s most awful bridal train.
“And Crabulous!” Scootaloo clicked the pincer-gloves she wore and scuttled in behind Rainbow Dash, the plates of her monster-crab costume clattering.
“You kept the centipede costume.” Rarity said with a little sigh. “Why am I not surprised?”
“Of course I did!” Rainbow Dash beamed through the mouth of her bug-eyed monster costume. “When else am I gonna get to wear it? And since Scootaloo’s dressed up like Crabulous, that just makes it double cool!”
“Crab-u-whatnow?” Applejack blinked.
“Crabulous!” Scootaloo clicked her claws again. “Gargantulon’s best friend!”
“Crabulous is the monster that gets beaten up at the beginning of a lot of Gargantulon movies to show how strong whatever the new bad guy is.” Rainbow Dash said with the confident authority of a longtime fan.
“That’s a pretty … specific costume, there.” Applejack peered down at Scootaloo in her crab costume.
“There’s nothing wrong with specificity.” Rarity gestured vaguely to Applejack’s black and white facepaint. “Especially when the alternative is something generic.”
“Aw, don’t listen to her, Applejack! I think your rodeo clown outfit is cool!”
“Rodeo clown?” Applejack sputtered. “What makes ya think I’m a rodeo clown? My makeup’s all wrong, and I ain’t even got a barrel.”
Rainbow Dash shrugged her segmented shoulders. “Hey, white facepaint, cowboy hat, you’re a rodeo clown.”
“I--” Applejack held up a protesting finger, then sighed in resignation. “Rarity, didn’t you say you had an extra costume laying around?”
“Why darling!” Rarity’s eyes shone in eager anticipation. “I thought you’d never ask.”
“So lemme get this straight.” Applejack ran her hands over her costume’s woolen skirts. “You just happened to have a costume in my exact size, and that costume just happens to match yours.” The two chatted as they strolled down the street, a few yards behind Rainbow Dash and the younger girls, who were already buzzing with sugar-fueled energy. With the sun down, the suburban street swarmed with costumed revelers, dressed as various monsters, superheroes, and so on. Or, in Applejack’s case, as 17th century French peasantry.
“Quite convenient, don’t you think?” Rarity said.
“Yeah. Convenient.” Applejack fiddled with the cuffs of her linen shirt.
“Honestly, I don’t see what you’re complaining about. This is the same sort of rustic farmwear you wear on a daily basis-- just, you know, the style’s just a few centuries older. So you’re a rustic peasant girl instead of a rustic cattle rancher. It suits you!”
“If you say so.” Applejack mused. “At least it’s better than, like, just booty shorts and a funny headband. It’s too cold to go runnin’ round as a sexy catgirl or a sexy devil or sexy mailman or whatever.”
“I concur.” The plume of Rarity’s hat bobbed as she nodded. “Such lazy costuming is beneath the both of us. Not to mention the fact that I’ve made it a point every Halloween to never dress up as anything that I wouldn’t mind being transformed into on account of magical chicanery.”
“That’s … not a bad idea, with some of the stuff we’ve had to deal with.” Applejack mulled the thought over, then furrowed her brow in suspicion. “Except for the part where I’m all damsel-y, and you’re the one with a sword. What am I s’posed to do if that kinda magical nonsense goes down?”
“Worry not, fair maiden!” Rarity struck a heroic pose with her cape thrown back and a hand on the hilt of her replica rapier. “Rarity d’Aubigny, master swordswoman, shall protect you!
Applejack smiled again. “You’re really into that costume, huh?”
“Just, ah, getting in character.” Rarity tilted the brim of her hat down in an effort to conceal the blush in her cheeks. “Though perhaps not as much as some of our party. Look.”
Up ahead, Scootaloo started clicking her crab-claws in time to a song.
“Crabulous! Crabulous!”
“It is going to grab-you-lous!”
“Breaking laaaaaws!”
“With it’s claaaaaws!”
Applejack blinked. “You think she made that song up, or memorized it from one of them rubber suit movies?”
“I’m not sure if I want to know. But at least she’s having fun.” Rarity paused, worrying at her lower lip. “You … are having fun, aren’t you, Applejack?”
“Uh, yeah? I mean, I ain’t much for costumes, and honestly too much chocolate gives me a stomachache, but it’s always nice spending time with you.” Applejack nudged Rarity’s elbow and smiled.
“You mean it?” Rarity brightened. “You’re not just humoring me, are you?”
“You know me, sugarcube. If I had a problem, you’d know about it.”
“There’s something to be said for bluntness, true.” After a moment’s hesitation, Rarity slipped her arm through the crook of Applejack’s elbow. “But even still, thank you for coming along.”
“Aw shucks, ain’t nothing.”
“But it is something.” Rarity squeezed Applejack’s arm tighter. “It’s--”
“Hey! What’s taking you guys so long?” Rainbow Dash shouted at them from a few yards ahead. “You guys better hurry up, or else we’re gonna ditch you so we can actually get candy!”
“Yeah! Slowpokes!” Scootaloo clanked her claws in a vaguely rebellious manner.
“If you positively can’t wait for us, perhaps it’d be for the better if you went ahead?” Rarity said.
Applejack leaned in close, voice low enough so only Rarity could hear. “You sure it’s a good idea to turn them loose like that?”
“Our sisters will be fine. They’ve still got Rainbow Dash to keep an eye on them.”
“That’s what I’m afraid of.”
“Hurry up!” Rainbow Dash waved her foam rubber claws back and forth. “GARGANTULON HUNGERS!”
“I see your point.” Rarity said. And so, however reluctantly, she slid her arm away from Applejack’s so she could quicken her pace. They were, after all, on a mission.
The next few hours went by in a sugary blur. Despite her clumsy centipede costume, Rainbow Dash managed to stay at the head of the pack, leading her friends from one house to the next in order to collect as much candy as possible. The night grew darker, their candy bags grew heavier, and Scootaloo eventually ran out of verses of the Crabulous song (which, incidentally, never used the word “fabulous,” despite easy rhyme). But they’d managed to collect the candy tithe from every house in the neighborhood.
Except for one.
“Check it out!” Rainbow Dash pointed a claw at the dark and dilapidated two-story perched on a hill at the end of the street. With its peeling shingles, crooked siding, and sagging porch beams, the house looked like it could barely stay upright. A chill breeze carried dried leaves across the abandoned house’s lawn like miniature tumbleweeds and made the two-story creak. “It’s the murder house!”
“The what?” Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo all gasped in wide-eyed unison.
“Rainbow Dash!” Applejack scolded. “Don’t go tellin’ them fake stories now.”
“It’s true! I heard that, like, a long time ago, some guy kidnapped a bunch of Trick or Treaters and then ground them up into meat pies and then he gave the people-pies to other Trick or Treaters. And then they died! On Halloween!”
Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo all clung together, trembling.
“Honestly, Rainbow.” Rarity huffed. “Who gives out meat pies on Halloween?”
“And how’d a guy have time to kidnap some kids, go all cannibal on ‘em, and then get other Trick or Treaters all in one night? Baking pies takes time.” Applejack rubbed at her chin, thinking. “Even if he prepped the dough beforehand, it’d still take a couple of hours to get it all put together. And then you gotta let the pies cool or else they’ll fall apart when you try to put ‘em in somebody’s bag of goodies.”
“Come on you guys! You’re ruining my story!”
“And you’re scaring my sister.” Applejack started rolling up the sleeves of her peasant dress.
Rarity, meanwhile, pulled her phone out of a pocket concealed within her doublet. Its screen illuminated her face as she typed with her thumbs. “Not to mention the fact that, despite the salaciousness of your story, I can’t find a single true crime podcast about it, or even a streaming documentary. So I’m inclined to believe it never happened.”
“Ugh.” Rainbow Dash shook her mandibled head. “You guys are no fun. But I’m telling you, something terrible and scary and stuff happened here. Why else do you think it’s abandoned?”
“A bankruptcy stemming from the housing bubble?” Rarity offered. “Which … is somewhat scary, I admit, but in a more ‘existential dread stemming from late stage capitalism’ sort of way.”
“Exi-whatnow?” Sweetie Belle tilted her head to the side, confused.
“Nothing you need to worry about anytime soon, darling.” Rarity patted her little sister on her tiara’d head.
“Oh yeah?” Rainbow Dash leaned forward and waggled a foam claw in Rarity’s face. “If you think that house isn’t scary, I dare you to go up and ring the doorbell!”
“Ain’t nobody gotta prove nothin’ here.” Applejack narrowed her eyes and stepped between the swashbuckler and the centipede. “So why don’t we all just pack up and go home? It’s getting late.”
“It’s alright, Applejack.” Rarity pulled herself up taller and cracked a smile. “Rarity d’Aubigny fears no building. Not to mention that if we don’t follow through with this Rainbow Dash will never shut up about it.”
“I won’t!” Rainbow Dash chimed in.
“Besides, in all likelihood, there’s probably just some lonely old lady living in that house who doesn’t get out much because everyone thinks she’s scary, but then we’ll brighten up her night and then we’ll all learn a lesson about friendship or something. It’ll be quite wholesome.” Rarity nodded.
“That’s … surprisingly likely, with the kinda stuff we deal with.” Applejack rubbed at her chin, thoughtful. “But whatever happens, you ain’t going alone, Sugarcube.”
“How gallant!” Rarity squealed in anticipation.
“Somethin’ like that. But before ya get any other … ideas, better letcha know that Rainbow Dash is coming too.” She threw an arm around Rainbow Dash’s carapaced shoulders, and leaned in close. “Unless you’re too yellow.”
“I’m not yellow!” Rainbow Dash huffed. “Like, I guess I can go with you guys as moral support. Or something.”
“Perfect.” Applejack’s grin grew a little wider. “’cause if Mr. Meat Pie Man or whoever really is lurking in that house, figure he’ll catch you first, since you can’t really run in that there worm costume.”
“Wait, what?” Rainbow Dash squeaked-- but before she could protest any further, Rarity closed in on the opposite side of Rainbow Dash, penning her in.
“What a marvelous idea! Sweetie Belle, you and your friends stay here at the curb-- we’ll wave you over if it’s a nice old lady.”
“And run screaming if it ain’t.” Applejack added on.
Sweetie Belle, Apple Bloom, and Scootaloo nodded in agreement, clumping together at the curb.
Rainbow Dash wriggled in her centipede costume. “Hey guys, maybe--”
“Shall we, ladies?” Rarity said, and with that the three of them marched across the unkempt lawn, up to the possibly-a-murder-house. As they neared the abandoned building, it seemed to grow taller, almost as if it were leaning forward in a slow-motion effort to devour the trio. Another chill wind rolled through, enough to make even Rainbow Dash shiver beneath her pounds and pounds of foam rubber costume.
“So, uh.” Rainbow Dash murmured, “I might have made that murder house stuff up.”
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Ya think?”
“Then what’s the issue?” Rarity said.
“I mean, uh. Maybe it’s not Mr. Meat Pie Man, but you ever wonder if there’s like, some magic monster from the pony dimension just waiting behind that door to eat our brains or something?” Rainbow Dash tried, and failed, to keep a quaver out of her voice.
“That … might actually happen, with some of the stuff we’ve had to deal with.” Applejack said.
“Then deal we shall!” Rarity said, spurred on by her heroic costume and the not inconsiderable amount of sugar she’d consumed during the evening’s festivities. She strode onto the porch first, and the aging floorboards creaked beneath her boots. Applejack followed, hauling Rainbow Dash along with her. The old porch blocked what scant moonlight was available, plunging the trio into near-darkness. Undaunted, Rarity lunged forward like a fencer, jabbing the doorbell with her finger.
Nothing happened.
Rarity waited a moment, then pushed the doorbell again. And again. And again. Still, nothing. She frowned. “Well. That was anticlimactic.”
“Doorbell’s busted. Ain’t surprised. Might as well go for the direct approach.” Applejack reached forward to knock on the door--
Rarity spun around, and immediately started asking herself questions. Including, but not limited to:
How did she get into this?
Did the presence of wild animals make a property more abandoned, or technically less so?
Had Gargantulon ever fought a giant raccoon in any of those old movies?
The fat, ring-tailed critter scrambled over Rainbow Dash, chattering away. Thankfully, the thick foam rubber of the Gargantulon costume protected Rainbow from the raccoon’s claws and teeth. But at the same time, the costume’s clumsy bulk also prevented her from stopping the raccoon from diving into her open candy bag. The raccoon’s hind legs kicked wildly as it gorged itself on stolen candy like the lawless beast it was.
Cutting her losses, Rainbow Dash dropped her bag of candy and lunged away from the brazen raccoon. Near-blind from panic (and a googly eyed mask), Rainbow Dash slammed into Applejack, who in turn slammed into one of the vertical porch supports. The termite-gnawed wood gave way, and Applejack could do little more than swear as the entire porch roof collapsed with a hellacious crash.
Knocked to the floorboards, Rarity’s world was reduced to dust and darkness. She squirmed, mostly on instinct, but the debris kept her pinned. An alarmingly warm trickle of … something trailed down her cheek. Blood, perhaps, but it was too dark, and Rarity was too rattled to confirm. Which was probably for the best-- she hated to think of what blood would do to the pressed felt of her swashbuckler hat. But if she was bleeding, then what had happened to--
“Applejack!” Rarity’s voice cracked with desperation. “Are you alright? You’ve got to be alright, or else I-- I just don’t know what I’d do!”
“I’m fine. Mostly.” Applejack grumbled from somewhere close. “Been through worse, at least. What ‘bout you?”
“A little battered, but I’ll endure. Once I get out of here, that is. I’m, er-- stuck.”
“I can fix that, just gimmie a sec.” Applejack grunted, pushing against the wreckage. “Rainbow Dash, how ‘bout you?”
“That raccoon stole all my candy!”
“If that’s the worst you gotta worry about, you’ll be fine. Now hold still everybody, I think I got a way out.” Wood creaked and shifted as Applejack worked an arm loose in the debris-- and soon a heavy chopping sound filled the cramped space of the collapsed porch.
Fresh air and silver moonlight flowed in from the hole Applejack cleaved through the porch’s shingling. Rarity gave a soft, scandalized gasp once she saw what Applejack had cleaved the hole with.
“You kept the hatchet?” said Rarity.
“I mean, yeah?” Applejack said. “Figured it was better than leavin’ it at your place. ‘specially ‘cause it wasn’t as dull as I thought. Now hold still.” Applejack got to work, methodically chopping away. Brittle wood shattered under the old hatchet and soon Applejack pulled herself clear. Her braid had come undone and her dress tore in several places in the process, which, combined with the hatchet in her hand, made for her spookiest costume of the evening.
With a few more hatchet strokes, Applejack freed Rarity and Rainbow dash. As soon as they got clear, Apple Bloom, Sweetie Belle, and Scootaloo rushed over from where they’d been watching at the curb.
“Holy smokes!”
“That house tried to eat you!”
“Until you killed it with an axe!”
“That … ain’t exactly what happened.” Applejack rubbed at the bridge of her nose with her free hand.
“So what did happen, sis?” Apple Bloom pushed the brim of her witch’s hat back and looked up at Applejack with wide, eager eyes.
“What happened is, Rainbow Dash learned a very important lesson. Isn’t that right, Rainbow?”
“Uh, yeah!” Rainbow Dash stood up straighter-- or at least as straight as her battered costume allowed. “Next time we explore an abandoned building, we should bring Fluttershy.”
“Is that all?” Rarity narrowed her eyes, and her voice went cold.
“Oh, and, uh. Next time I won’t make up any scary stories just to scare little kids?” Rainbow Dash added on.
“That’ll have to do.” Rarity brushed moldy sawdust off her doublet. “And now, I think it’s best we called it a night.”
So they did.
The hour grew late, and the street grew darker as each home turned off its porch lights to signal its retreat from the seasonal ritual. As before, Rainbow Dash and the younger girls ranged ahead, while Rarity and Applejack followed a short distance behind them.
“You are alright, aren’t you?” Rarity wrapped an arm around Applejack’s and leaned in close, in case the taller girl suddenly developed a limp and needed proper support. That such supporting allowed Rarity the chance to run her hands over Applejack’s toned bicep was nothing more than a pleasant bonus. Or so she told herself.
“You can stop fussin’.” Applejack said with a wan smile. “Couple splinters ain’t nothin’ compared to some of the stuff I’ve done. Like, I ever tell you ‘bout the time when I was a kid and I got beat up by an angry sheep? Junior Rodeo ain’t no joke, I tell ya.”
“This is not Junior Rodeo, thankfully,” said Rarity.
“Honestly, I should be worried ‘bout you. Me n’ Rainbow Dash, we’re used to a little rough n’ tumble. But I thought you were more … “ Applejack trailed off, searching for the right word.
“Delicate?”
“Yeah, that.”
“Perhaps.” Rarity ran a hand through her hair, then winced as she felt the stickiness of congealing blood beneath her fingertips. “But I’ll have you know, Rarity d’Aubigny is made of sterner stuff than you’d expect. If anything a few bloodstains may make this outfit more historically accurate.”
“I’m more concerned with Rarity-dee-This Here Neighborhood.”
“Rest assured, she’s fine. I’m fine. It’s just--”
“What?”
Rarity leaned against Applejack’s soothingly strong arm. “You know, Halloween is about … fear, I suppose?”
“Well, yeah. What with all the ghouls and ghosts and whatnot.”
“Exactly. And do you know what I fear most, darling?”
“Uh. I dunno. Clowns? Ain’t nobody trust a clown.”
“Not that, no.” Rarity sighed. “It’s just … when that porch collapsed on us, I realized what I most feared was … “
“What?”
“Losing you.”
Applejack stopped in her tracks. “Say again?”
“It’s foolish, I know. It’s just … what if something happens? Ever since we met Twilight Sparkle-- the first one, from the horse dimension –it just seems like nothing is impossible. Which is thrilling. You’re thrilling.” Rarity clenched her fingers in the sleeve of Applejack’s peasant dress. “But what if something horrible happens, and-- and--”
“Sugarcube.” Applejack turned to face Rarity, and gently traced calloused fingertips over a porcelain-pale cheek. “I ain’t goin’ nowhere. And hell, even if some weird magic monster did manage to knock me off, I reckon I’m too stubborn to die quiet. So, like, I’d crawl back from the dead or something.”
“For me?”
“Well, mostly for revenge, but I guess I’d stop by to say howdy while I did.” Applejack smiled. Winked. It was entirely too charming.
“Forgive me if I don’t find that too encouraging.”
“If it helps, I don’t plan on dying anytime soon. Or, uh, leaving you, for that matter.” Applejack looked away, even as she trailed a hand downwards to twine her fingers with Rarity’s. “No matter what happens. Way I figure, weirder things get, that just means we’ll, uh … hang on tighter.” She squeezed Rarity’s fingers, and smiled wanly. “Or something.”
For the first time since a porch fell on her, Rarity allowed herself a genuine smile. “Or something.”
And with that, Rarity stood up on tiptoe, and pressed her lips against Applejack’s.
