Muse
Rarity stared down at her workstation. She'd been boring holes into the paper for the last hour, willing something coherent to form before her mind's eye, but just like the last dozen attempts, nothing came. She felt the anger rising, the unbidden rage, and this time, she couldn't hold it back.
The scream ripped out of her so fiercely it left her throat sore. That didn't match the pain of her utter lack of creativity, however. Nor did the slam of her hoof against her work desk. Fabric, pens, paper, and needles went spilling across the floor, sewing machine impacting with a crash. She was pretty sure something in there broke, but she was too infuriated to care.
"Rarity? Are you okay?" Sweetie Belle poked her head through Rarity's workshop doorway, worry painted plain as day across her face. "Heard a crash." She saw the spilled supplies, the toppled machine, and winced.
"Yes, Sweetie. I'm fine. I just... I just tripped," Rarity lied, already feeling foolish for her impromptu bout of destructive rage. Her horn glowed and things floated back into place atop the righted table, though nothing looked correct about their order.
Nothing clicked anymore. Nothing snapped neatly into place, or came together in a single, satisfying design. The disorder on her table felt like it was mimicking the chaos in Rarity's head; disorganized and patternless.
"I'm going out for a while. I need to talk to Twilight." Another lie, but Rarity didn't want to stress her sister with the creative block looming large over her thoughts. The affliction blanketed everything, blackening her mind into a featureless, monochrome space devoid of muse. She didn't want to dump such a severe emotional weight on Sweetie's head.
Twilight answered the door after the first few knocks, a similarly worried look on her face.
"Are you alright? You look... tired."
"No, I'm not alright. Where's Starlight? I need to speak to her. Now." Rarity wasn't in the mood for pleasantries.
Up in Starlight's room, Rarity paced, trying to keep the fear, the fury, the overwhelming anxiety from yanking her stomach into knots.
"It's been a month, Starlight. A whole. Month."
"Are you sure it's not just a bad case of art block? That's pretty common in ponies who rely on their creativity for their income. It's a lot of work."
"No, this is nothing like a block. I've had bouts of creative lows before, but this? This is something entirely different. I've had absolutely no ideas, no eureka moments, no muse since the incident."
Rarity tried to compose herself, but the anger was getting to her.
"I can't... There's just nothing in here anymore, Starlight," she said tapping a hoof against one aching temple, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. "I'm empty, drained. The tanks aren't just dry, they're gone."
"Have you tried... taking a break?"
"All of last week I just laid around the boutique and tried not to think about it, but do you know how hard it is not to think about a dilemma that not only stunts your career, but also completely ruins the one thing you truly enjoy in life? Dressmaking is my passion, Starlight. My. Passion. It's part of who I am, but now, that part's gone. I need you to fix this."
The tears were flowing freely now, dark stains trailing down her cheeks. She'd stopped putting on mascara a few days ago, not feeling the urge to pretty herself up with the creative void swallowing her every thought, but the streaks stood out nonetheless stark upon her face. Rarity turned towards Starlight, a pleading, pathetic look on her normally petite, gorgeous features.
"Please, fix this."
Books sat piled on the desk; spell books, hex tomes, enchantment collections, every sort of magic imaginable. Twilight sat looking through a book about the side effects of mixed spells, the dangers of doing it imprecisely, the ways they could be remedied. Her face was solemn, full of barely restrained fear. She tried to hide her building hopelessness, but Rarity could see it in her eyes.
"We already undid the spell. It's not active anymore. Twilight disbanded it. There shouldn't be any lingering effects." Starlight said, voice timid and equally full of concern.
"Starlight's right," Twilight commented, though she sounded more than a little unsure, much to Rarity's dismay. "I was very thorough when I unwove and cleared the spells. None of the others have come to me complaining of mental blocks, and they all were under the same effects as you. I'm honestly at a loss for words. It's baffling. There should be no lingering effects."
"Well, clearly there are, because I can't so much as sketch out a basic gown without feeling like my mind's straining at the seams. It's like my creativity is chained, bound. No, it's more like... When I try to put together a design in my head, there's nothing there to work with. I can't put the pieces together because there are no pieces. It's just a permanently blank slate I'm forced to carry around in my head. It's maddening."
Rarity slumped to the floor, burying her head in her forelegs. The tears came heavier, unbridled, cascading down her cheeks in droves.
"What did you do to me, Starlight? What did you do?" She sobbed, whole body quaking.
Starlight and Twilight exchanged looks, the former looking utterly ravaged by guilt, the latter trying to withhold her own brand of frustration. They were both equally lost for what to say.
"I could... try to cast the spell again, see if maybe it puts things back together. You were still able to draw something back then, at least. That's better than nothing, right?"
Rarity shot her head up, suddenly terrified. "No! No you are not putting that.... that cage back on my mind! For all we know, it could get even worse when you remove it! I still have an ache in the back of my eyes from the first time, and that's the least of my problems!"
Twilight sighed, closing another tome. "As much as I hate to say it, we may need to run a few experiments while you're under Starlight's control to see if there's a way to break through this block, but we won't force you into anything. It's your choice, Rarity. But, frankly, I'm out of ideas. We've tried everything at this point. I can't seem to find a spell that would revive a dead muse."
Rarity's sobbing abruptly heightened. "Don't say it like that!"
"Sorry, sorry. I'm stressed. We're all stressed., but I don't know what to do."
Rarity paused, wiping away a tear.
"Alright. Let's... just do it. I need my creativity back. I. Need. It."
Starlight grimaced, averting her gaze. It was obvious she had her own reservations about unleashing the seemingly problematic spell a second time.
"Are you sure? We don't have to do this," she said, sounding less and less confident with every word.
Rarity sniffled, waving a forlorn hoof. "Just do it, before I get cold hooves."
Starlight's horn glowed, the room went white.
Suddenly, her mind was cleared of initiative. Urges came; to speak, to move, to think, but they were all locked away, put in a queue awaiting some unknown force to approve them for action. That force, however, remained absent. Rarity's eyes dilated.
Starlight cleared her throat, trembling.
"Rarity! Hear my voice and listen!" Starlight's voice boomed, the trigger in Rarity's mind clicking. The queue evaporated.
Everything grew quiet, save for the shimmering of Starlight's horn, but that, too, soon died away as the spell was finished. Rarity sat upright, face blank and mane a mess.
"Rarity? Can you hear me?" Starlight asked, words unsteady.
"Yes, I can hear you, Starlight Glimmer."
"Can you draw me a dress?" Starlight levitated a scrap of blank parchment from a nearby notepad, along with a quill and some ink. She set the supplies down in front of Rarity, heart thudding in her chest.
"Yes, I can draw you a dress, Starlight Glimmer." To Starlight's relief, Rarity began to draw. But that relief quickly withered away when the drawing on the page became blatantly familiar. It was a dress Rarity had sketched months ago, a project she'd long since finished. Still, it was something.
When it was done, Rarity hovered the page in her magic, smiling vapidly. "I've finished the drawing."
Starlight gulped, shakily taking the page and floating over another.
"Very good. Now, can you draw a new one? One you've not drawn before? Show us something totally unique."
Rarity looked down at the fresh sheet of paper, one eye twitching. She looked up. Dull smile on her face. She stayed quiet for a long, long moment, that one eye quivering all the while. Something like a whimper began to build in her throat, strained and strangled, but it didn't rise beyond a barely heard whine.
A single tear rolled down Rarity's cheek.
"There's nothing new, Starlight Glimmer."