Rarity struggles to overcome an art block. It takes a very special pony to show Rarity who she is.
It's one thing to wake up on the wrong side of the bed. It's something quite different to worry that it doesn't have a right side anymore. Stuck in an artistic rut, Rarity has to rely on an unlikely friend to understand who she is, and in doing so, discovers that what we want may not always be obvious, even to oneself.
There may or may not be an excess of hats involved, and fabulosity is guaranteed.
The pre-noon light reflected off the dress, and all Rarity could think was that it looked dull. There was nothing wrong with the fabric, of course; it was imported cream-colored satin of the highest quality. There was nothing wrong with the light itself either. At least, now that she’d cleaned the windows, she was sure of that too. Rarity took a step back and tilted her head, placing herself dead center in her studio.
No, it was much simpler than that. It was dull and uninspired because it was dead. For all that her mannequins were many and varied, they simply weren’t ponies. This late in the design process, she’d usually call upon somepony to model for her, to try out the dress on one of her friends. More often than not, that pony was Fluttershy.
Rarity poked her cheek with her tongue and reached up to adjust her glasses. If only Fluttershy hadn’t headed off to Cloudsdale for the weekend. She couldn’t very well fault her friend for attending her mother’s birthday, but it all left her in quite the bind, because the first alternative that sprang to mind was decidedly more stressful.
“Sweetie Belle!” Rarity called.
“Yes, sis?” a squeaky voice immediately replied from the main room.
“Are you quite done with your homework?” Rarity asked, poking her head out from her studio. Her sister lay on the floor, head buried in some book or other.
“Um, almost? Can’t I do the rest tomorrow? Pleeease? I promised Scootaloo and Apple Bloom I’d meet them by the clubhouse, and it’s already getting late.” Sweetie pouted over the rim of the book.
“If you’re back in time for supper,” Rarity agreed with a smile. “That is, if you can be a dear and head by Rainbow Dash’s house and tell her I need to see her. Could you do that for me?”
“Sure!” Sweetie Belle beamed, bouncing up on all fours, but halfway to the door the little unicorn filly screeched to a halt. “Wait, Rainbow Dash? Scootaloo said she went with Fluttershy to Cloudsdale because she needed to—”
“To visit the weather office before season’s end, yes, she told me, I remember now,” Rarity finished for her, frowning. “That’s just as well, her colour would be a terrible fit, and she keeps complaining. Always with the complaining,” she muttered. “‘Rarity, I’m bored, Rarity, I’ve been standing still for three hours and you’re being quiet’.”
“Um,” Sweetie Belle offered.
Rainbow Dash was hard enough to lure into modelling, and harder yet to keep still, but who else could she call upon? Applejack was always up for helping a friend in need, but her busy schedule meant she sometimes needed advance warning for things she considered “unimportant” compared to her farm work. Rarity huffed. Twilight could probably be roped into assisting, but the purple mare wasn’t quite the body type she needed for the dress she was designing. Perfection was never a choice. It was necessity.
Rarity gave a small sigh as she realized this left her with precious few options. She already felt a headache building, though she couldn’t hold back a small smile, either. “Never mind Rainbow Dash then. Scootaloo lives near Sugarcube Corner, does she not?”
“We should totally do this again sometime!” Pinkie suggested.
“Pinkie Pie, darling, we haven’t ‘done’ anything yet,” Rarity said. “But all the same, thank you for coming on such short notice,” she added, leading Pinkie through her studio. The room always seemed twice as cluttered in the presence of another; each of Rarity’s hoofsteps were made with expert precision, picking her way between discarded bolts of cloth and patterns she’d thrown away but might yet need. Finally, she directed her friend to the small platform in front of the grand windows.
“Aw, but sometimes that’s the best part, just like the day before your birthday.” Pinkie giggled as she watched the fabric swirl around her. Rarity offered her a smile while her horn glowed, draping the satin around her form and nodding appreciatively as it settled just so on her flank.
“If you say so, dear. Now please, do hold still.” Rarity bit her tongue as she focused intently on fitting together the pieces she’d planned. Everything from croupon to lapel lined up perfectly on the pink mare’s body.
“Perfect,” Rarity murmured. “I think this looks even better on you than it would on Fluttershy, and at this point I believe I design half my dresses with her in mind because of how helpful she’s being.”
“Aw. Thanks,” Pinkie said, beaming.
“For what?” Rarity raised a brow.
“You said something nice! And when ponies say nice things, you say ‘thank you’,” Pinkie retorted, tilting her head a perfect ninety degrees. Rarity hurried to right the fabric where it had shifted.
“I also said hold still,” Rarity sighed. “And yes, I suppose you’re quite welcome, though I meant only how the dress sits on you. That said, you make for a far better model than I had expected,” she added, trotting over to magic open a drawer in search of her scissors.
“Thanks again!” Pinkie giggled, bouncing on the spot as much as she could without lifting her hooves off the ground.
“Thank me by standing still. I’d take it back, but the frightening part is that you still have a few somersaults to go before you’re as bad as Rainbow Dash,” Rarity retorted, levitating over all the tools of her trade. Scissors and pins, needle and thread, measuring tape and more besides all moved at her command as she advanced upon the earth pony. Now, she had her model. Now, she could work.
Time stretched, shrank or whatever else it did when Rarity plied her trade. The world around her slowly faded, giving way to fabric and shape. For the longest time, Pinkie Pie did as asked; it was almost strange to see her stand so very still other than the occasional and understandable sneeze or scratch, and the less occasional and far less understandable bounce or twirl. Some allowances had to be made for eccentricities at any rate.
Slowly the dress took shape. Edges were trimmed and curves were checked. Borders were inspected and neatened. Before long—or perhaps it had been long, it was impossible to tell—Rarity drew back and inspected her work.
Only to find herself unable to hold back a sigh, her brow creased in a deep frown. She was no stranger to zoning out, to lose touch with trivialities in favor of the perfect creation; it was just so very unfamiliar to come to again and discover she wasn’t at all satisfied with what she saw. Rarity reached up to nudge her glasses, but suddenly, even they wouldn’t lie right. She casually deposited them on the nearby workbench with a glimmer of magic.
“Oh no. Why are you sighing?” Pinkie asked, pouting. “Am I bad at this? I’m sure I can stand even more still! I can be the statue-est pony ever! Or maybe you need a song? I’m even better at that. I can make you a song about clothes. Listen; If you’re feeling—”
“No, no, not at all,” Rarity broke her off. “You’re fine.”
“That’s three! Thanks!” Pinkie gave a short-lived smile. “But you’re not happy. That’s wrong,” she concluded, leaning a little closer as if though her stare could bore into Rarity and force her to smile with her.
“Yes. Well, there’s precious little you can do about that, I fear,” Rarity replied, waving a leg. “Perhaps it’s just difficult to vary it up. Fall is coming to an end, and, ah, there is only so much you can do within the same season. Fluttershy usually has some fresh ideas, but I find myself asking her opinion more and more, and relying less on my own, these days.”
Rarity levitated over a bolt of yellow silk as she thought, for no reason other than to be doing something. Once she’d picked it up, she couldn’t quite decide where to put it. It wouldn’t match the shade of blue dominated by the half-finished dress over there, nor would it feel right to put it—
“Why don’t you just skip the icky tight collar and maybe make some fancy-awesome super-sweet cuts on the flank? Let some air in!” Pinkie suggested, poking at the dress.
Rarity gave her friend a wan smile and put the silk down where she’d found it, shaking her head. “I appreciate that you wish to help, truly, but that’s not, ah, a workable angle,” she muttered, surrounding the dress she’d made with her light blue magic, slowly working it over Pinkie’s head.
Pinkie Pie waited patiently for Rarity to undress her, giving her legs an experimental little bounce once free. She gave Rarity a big, bright smile.
“Okie-dokie-lokie,” she giggled, trotting after the hovering dress and stopping in front of the mannequin where Rarity left it. “How about adding—”
“Please, don’t worry about it, dear,” Rarity said, turning away from the dress that she was quite frankly rapidly tiring of. She wasted no time in making for the door to the main room. “Tell me, how are the Cakes? And the foals?” she asked, leading the way out.
“Oh, they’re all doing great!” Pinkie beamed, bouncing in the unicorn’s wake, no doubt thrilled to be moving again. “Well, mostly. Mr. Cake is a little annoyed that I maybe tried to use the taffy machine for a bubble bath again, and Mrs. Cake did that little thing where she sighs and rolls her eyes when I ruined the oven, also again.”
“If you don’t mind me saying, that hardly sounds like they’re doing ‘great’ to me,” Rarity retorted.
“Maybe not, but they were very happy when I said I was heading out for a bit,” Pinkie said. “Thanks again for having me over!”
Again, the shop was silent. Rarity stood by the window and watched Pinkie Pie bounding down the street, heading for her own home. The afternoon had gone well enough. At least, the Pinkie Pie part of it had. It wasn’t as if though they weren’t fast friends, but if she’d been leery of trying to get Pinkie to model for her alone, she was glad those worries had been unfounded. The sun was low on the horizon, and she almost missed the near-constant stream of chatter already for lack of anything else to do.
She should of course give the dress a second look and see what else she could do for it, but the idea simply didn’t appeal. The unicorn trotted over to the threshold of her studio and gave the glimmering satin a brief look. If she had any sense, she’d leap at the chance to sneak in another fashion line in the late fall market, but instead, all she could think to do was to bury her snout in a good book or take a long bath. It had been like that a lot, lately.
What was it Pinkie Pie had said? Remove the collar entirely? Expose the flank? Rarity paused, halfway back out of the room. Despite herself, she retraced her steps and approached the mannequin that faced the setting sun. It would be the simplest of matters, and it hardly mattered for a line that would probably never leave Ponyville. Maybe Pinkie Pie would appreciate it. If nothing else, it would make for an interesting anecdote the next time she had cause to discuss fashion with her peers.
With a mental shrug, Rarity scratched at her forehead and picked up the scissors. It was the work of minutes to remove some of the fabric on the flank, and the collar came off easily.
“Well, that’s certainly... different,” Rarity murmured, gently depositing the surplus fabric on a free bench. She gave her newest creation a skeptical glance and magicked it off the mannequin, following it into the main room. She was just trying to find it a likely spot in the “new” section when Sweetie Belle entered, today with a blessed minimum of tree sap in her coat.
“There you are. I was just about to start dinner,” Rarity commented, folding the dress up. “Carrot soup, perhaps?”
“Okay!” Sweetie agreed, beaming. “Oh. What’s that? I haven’t seen that dress before.”
“Yes, well, it’s a new creation of mine, I suppose,” Rarity replied, shrugging as she made for the kitchen. “Come now. Do you think you can handle cutting the carrots?”
“Of course!” Sweetie Belle affirmed.
“Without making the pieces too large or too small—”
“But ‘just right’, yes, sis.” Sweetie Belle rolled her eyes and gave her a knowing glance. Rarity smiled back, the two sisters giggling as they made for the kitchen.
“Alright, one dress of that design done in mauve, with the normal modifications made to allow for wings,” Rarity agreed, scribbling on her little notepad.
“Uh, no, I said magenta,” the white pegasus mare retorted.
“Trust me, mauve is a much better fit for you. I’ll have it done in two days,” Rarity concluded, smiling. Her customer opened her mouth as if to protest, but evidently thought better of it, flashing a smile in return as she made for the door. The bell jingled with her departure, marking the exit of her eighth customer before noon.
Of which, seven had eventually settled for her newest creation.
Granted, it was the first Monday of the month. The weather schedule was slowly shifting into gear for winter, and ponies in the know usually flocked to Carousel Boutique before the snow started falling. It was common knowledge that Rarity would be looking to use the last of her thinner pre-winter fabrics, so it wasn’t all that surprising.
Except she was kidding herself. Rarity ran a hoof along the display dress she’d made only just yesterday. If the design truly caught on, the sales would only go up from this point and on. Most of her visitors today had been the regulars who visited mostly to chat. Junebug in particular almost never bought anything, but in idly browsing she’d been taken with the dress.
Rarity frowned. Why wasn’t she happy with it? She knew half of the answer. Since she landed all the big Canterlot contracts, the bits she made from shop sales were trivial. It was still her life and her favorite pastime, but the sales themselves were inconsequential.
Perhaps it was the fact that it wasn’t truly her own dress. It hadn’t been her own idea. Perhaps she’d have thought of it herself if she’d been having a better day? Rarity let the fabric fall back down, shaking her head. She only thought the decision to remove the collar a good one now that it had caught on. The airy take on the fabric on the flanks was a masterstroke only in hindsight, and it wasn’t hers.
Rarity snagged a random hat off of a bench and made for the door, flipping the “Open” sign around as she went. She thought perhaps she saw a hint of banana on her headwear, but it didn’t matter which hat it was; she’d make it fabulous by wearing it with conviction. Jaw set, Rarity strode down the streets of Ponyville aiming for the source of this little anomaly, of the crease in the fabric, the uneven cut.
If she attracted more looks than usual, then surely it was due to her determination and poise. She caught the flower sisters looking up from their conversation to stare after her and basked in the attention. Sure, she was in a bit of an artistic rut, but clearly it did not extend to her charisma. Rarity fluffed her mane and smiled to herself as she finally ascended to open the door to Sugarcube Corner.
The confectionary was deserted except for one pony. Luckily, the pony present behind the registry of the storefront was the mare Rarity wanted to see.
“Oh, hi Rarity!” Pinkie called, glancing over at the top of her head before tilting her own, giggling. “Thanks, but I just ate.”
“Excuse me?” Rarity asked, blinking as she approached.
“Aren’t you bringing me lunch?” Pinkie retorted. She leaned over the counter, snatching an orange from her hat.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Rarity scoffed, but once plucked, Pinkie set upon it with deft hooves, peeling the fruit whilst the unicorn watched, her conviction fading bit by bit. “No, that’s plastic. This is a, huh. It’s, ah. Well.”
Rarity paused, levitating her ‘hat’ off of her head. It certainly looked like something she made a week back, but a gentle tap of her hooves confirmed that the fruit bowl was, in fact, a fruit bowl in hard wood. It had been rather uncomfortable, in hindsight.
“Maybe I am, then. Pardon,” Rarity amended.
“You’re the best,” Pinkie said amidst messy mouthfuls of orange. “If you’re looking for the Cakes that you can’t eat, they’re just out on an errand, but the proud ship Sugarcube Corner is safe with me!”
“Actually, I was looking for you,” Rarity chuckled, putting the bowl down on the counter.
“That makes a lot more sense,” Pinkie agreed, nodding. “You almost never come to buy sweets, except late on Saturdays when you think nopony you know notices when you buy two extra huge boxes of fudge and wow, I don’t know where those go, but they don’t go to your flanks, I’ll tell you that!”
Rarity stared, trying to wrap her head around what she had been told. Or had heard. Possibly witnessed. At length, she merely shook her head. “Right. No, it’s about the dress you made.”
“The dress I made? You mean the dress you made, silly!” Pinkie protested, licking her lips and wiping the counter with a foreleg.
“It would have been but I, ah, took your concerns and feedback into consideration and decided to make some modifications,” Rarity admitted. As she’d predicted, Pinkie Pie beamed.
“That’s wonderrific! How’d it all go? I don’t really remember what I said, but I’m sure it was great,” she declared.
“Yes, well, I’m no stranger to flighty muses,” Rarity continued through a furrowed brow. “What gave you the idea though? A lighter design?”
“Huh?” Pinkie asked, blinking.
“I’m just wondering what your logic was, is all,” Rarity added, though Pinkie’s increasing confusion played well together with the alarm bells that went off in her head when she used the dreaded L-word on Pinkie. Rarity sighed. “You actually have none, am I right? It was spur of the moment and nothing more?”
“Oh, no, I just thought it’d make me happy, because, um, it’d be nice, I guess? Collars are super iffy, but that’s it,” Pinkie shrugged.
“Right. My mistake. I was just hoping for some, ah, inspiration,” Rarity murmured, turning on the spot. “Thank you again for your help.”
“Inspiration?” Pinkie echoed when Rarity was half-way to the door.
“I guess it’s not as important when one makes sweets and throws parties,” Rarity huffed.
The last few steps to the door were strangely quiet. It was remarkable how, even when Pinkie said nothing at all, her presence filled the room and created a different kind of noise. An energy that was at best both delightful and invigorating, and at worst, exhausting. Now, there was none of that. Pausing before the door, Rarity turned to look over her flank, wondering if she had said something truly wrong. Pinkie Pie was looking at her with a puzzled frown.
“Yeah it is,” Pinkie finally said, matter-of-factly. “It totally is.”
Rarity cleared her throat. “I did not mean to diminish your work, Pinkie, please don’t misunderstand. You know I have the utmost respect—”
“I think of new pastries every day,” Pinkie interrupted her, holding up a hoof and tapping it with the other, leaning on the counter. “Whenever I plan a party, they need a theme and a layout, and other things besides, not to mention I need to try to keep it fresh with every party! Now that’s a doozy! I mean, come on, I’ve probably thrown three parties for every pony in Ponyville!”
“I didn’t—” Rarity tried, dropping her gaze.
“And then there’s the entertainment! Oh wow, you would not believe how many different things ponies like, and I need games and things that every pony likes, and it’s not like that’s simple either! You think it’s like, hey, Rainbow Dash likes to fly so I can just have something flying-y, right? Nopey-dopey! I need to think of what ponies want before they want them!”
“Please,” Rarity cut in, swallowing audibly. “I’m sorry, Pinkie Pie. I did not in any way mean to imply I think you have it easy, please don’t think that.”
Pinkie Pie bounced over the counter, hopping over to give her a brief hug around the neck. “It’s okay, I didn’t, but thanks!”
Rarity hugged back tightly before she let go of Pinkie. Perhaps her friend was hard to offend, a mercy unto itself, but she couldn’t quite forgive herself for failing to draw the lines. Just because Pinkie Pie made party planning and cooking and whatever else it was she did look easy, that didn’t mean it was.
“At any rate,” Rarity said, clearing her throat. “If this is the case, then perhaps you understand my quandary. Inspiration, it waxes and wanes, right?” she concluded with a tight smile, once more turning and making for the door.
“Nope!” Pinkie said.
Rarity hung her head, biting the inside of her cheek. Part of her wanted to be done with it and return to her boutique. Then again, for what? To pace her studio and get nothing done? Against her better judgment, Rarity turned yet again to look at Pinkie’s unbroken smile.
“No?” Rarity asked.
“I just do what makes me happy,” Pinkie explained, lowering her voice as if though she were imparting some great secret. “That’s all there’s to it. If I’m not happy, then I need to get happy again, then I can do more things! I don’t use wax, and I don’t even own a weather-vane.”
“I see. Very helpful,” Rarity murmured, humoring her. She leaned forward to touch her forehead to Pinkie’s. “I really ought to be going. Ah, but first.”
Rarity and Fluttershy both paused at the threshold to Carousel Boutique. Fluttershy’s eyes traced the road that led out of Ponyville and to her cottage, the demure pegasus nibbling her lower lip.
“Are you sure you don’t want me to come in? It’s still early noon, and I don’t really have much to do. If you really need help, I mean,” she added. It was a white little lie Rarity recognized in an instant. Fluttershy always had a lot to do in the weekends between her dates to watch Rainbow Dash practice and attending her herb garden and her little animal friends both.
“That’s quite alright,” Rarity replied with a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I’ve imposed on you quite enough lately. I’m just sorry we had to postpone our spa date until today. You won’t believe how busy I’ve been with the shop.”
“All because of Pinkie Pie’s dress?” Fluttershy asked.
Rarity winced. She’d tried to steer their conversation away from that topic while they had their pedicures. She’d asked all about Fluttershy’s mother’s birthday while they had their hoof-baths and she’d inquired about the well-being of her animal patients while the mud masks were working. Still, Fluttershy had snuck in questions here and there.
“Yes, yes, I suppose it was, at that,” Rarity sighed. “Now, I’m thrilled to hear that you had a great time in Cloudsdale, and I’ll pop by for our Saturday tea later of course, but right now, I have to go attend my latest creation.”
“Oh. But—” Fluttershy tried to say, but Rarity crossed their necks in a brief hug and slipped inside the boutique, disappearing faster than a collage of dresses in a Manehatten summer sale.
“Rarity, you’re being terribly rude,” she chastised herself, giving the big chandelier of the main room a magical nudge to rouse the fireflies. Puffing out her cheeks, she unwrapped her scarf and let it slip to the ground, making her way across the floor to the room where she’d spent every single afternoon this week.
Her studio was as much of a mess as ever, perhaps more. If there was a scrap of fabric still actually in their proper drawers, she’d be surprised. The crumpled fudge wrappers were mercifully contained to the windowsill in the back, but what they lacked in territory conquered, they made up for in sheer volume. She habitually glanced over at her own flank, wondering if the excess indulgence was noticeable. It was almost disappointing to see that for all that she was failing, her appearance was untouched.
Flawless as ever, but not a single one of the mannequins arrayed around the edges of her studio bore anything that could be called a dress. Not even a sock, a hat or a simple sweater.
“Not that there is much of a point to it,” Rarity murmured, sidling up to where a bolt of garish green silk lay on the floor—when had she even bought this atrocious color? “It’s too early to start trying to predict winter fashions, too late to try to field something new,” she added, addressing the naked cloth ponies who surrounded her.
She was trying to create something only to see if she could, and she found that she could not. Her chest tightened at the thought. She grasped at a discarded cut-out shape that could be anything from a headband to a scarf.
“‘I do what makes me happy’, is it?” Rarity said, repeating out loud Pinkie’s words from earlier that week. With the words came Pinkie’s brightly smiling face. It threatened to make Rarity herself smile, but it was a short-lived impulse. She’d said it as if though it was a cure, a solution and a driving force all. Perhaps she’d been mistaken. She and Pinkie Pie were so very, very different. Whatever it was that had Rarity in an artistic rut had her pinned for weeks now. When was the last time she’d hummed to herself as she worked, much less broken into song?
Her train of thought came to an abrupt end as a familiar pink pony bounced past her window. Rarity removed the working glasses she couldn’t even remember putting on, leaning closer. Sure enough, Pinkie Pie was hopping along outside with Twilight in tow, the two chatting amicably as they went.
Rarity bit the inside of her cheek. It was absurd, but she almost felt slighted at the sight. There was no rational reason for it, and Pinkie Pie certainly didn’t owe her time to her, but there, right in front of her, the pony who proposed to have the solution to all her problems was pronking down the street.
Rarity flung the window open before her two friends could make it much farther.
“Hullo, girls!” she called. Twilight turned at the noise, and Pinkie Pie did the same, giving her an enthusiastic wave.
“Hi Rarity!” Pinkie called.
“Hello,” Twilight echoed. “What are you up to?”
“Ah, not terribly much,” Rarity said, clearing her throat in the wake of what was all too true when she’d rather it was a lie. “Say, could I borrow you for a little while, Pinkie Pie?”
It was probably as simple as that; she needed somepony to model. Perhaps she should’ve invited Fluttershy in after all? She glanced over her flank, back inside her studio where the dreary and dead mannequins regarded her with empty stares. She was only vaguely aware of Pinkie Pie’s reply, but when she once again stuck her head out the window, Pinkie Pie wore an apologetic smile.
“Sorry?” Rarity said.
“I said I’d love to, but it’s the ‘sorry’ kind of I can’t-but-I’d-love-to,” Pinkie repeated. “Twilight wanted my help with some experiment over by the pond, and I said I promised I would!”
“Oh. Ah. Well,” Rarity managed. “Some other time, perhaps,” she said, offering a weak smile of her own.
“Sorry Rarity!” Pinkie called.
“Good luck with your designs! I hear you’ve been doing great lately,” Twilight added, waving.
Rarity shut the window perhaps a little harder than she needed to. “Yes, yes I have,” she told nopony in particular, rubbing the spot between her eyes. She could of course tell Fluttershy that she’d changed her mind, but she already knew she wasn’t going to.
On a whim, Rarity levitated over a quill and parchment, quickly writing Sweetie Belle a note about dinner in the fridge and such. She barely took the time to sign it with proper flourish before she made for her bedroom.
Sleeping during the day, as it turned out, was a terrible idea. How Rainbow Dash managed, Rarity would never know.
She awoke late in the afternoon, noting that she had the worst bed mane yet experienced, and she was feeling decidedly sluggish. The sun’s glow lit up her bedroom, highlighting the breach in schedule. All was quiet except for the rustle of her duvet as she slipped out from under the covers and into her bathrobe. After a moment’s hesitation she pulled open the bottom nightstand drawer, levitating out a slim crystal glass and a bottle with which to fill it.
Some days called for a glass of finely aged fizzy pear cider. Rarity filled the glass to the brim and re-corked the bottle, making for the stairs. All around, the house part of Carousel Boutique was quiet. Passing by the kitchen, it became very evident that Sweetie Belle had come by, had her dinner, and left again; Rarity closed the fridge door properly with a sigh, resolving to clean the battlezone later.
Once again she found herself drawn to the room that was so central to her life. Every moment she did not spend with her friends was a buildup to clearing her schedule so she could labor in the workshop that was her studio. Usually, this was time spent with a song on her lips.
When had that all changed? She could remember vividly how much fun she had in the weeks leading up to royal wedding held not that long ago, late that very summer.
Rarity sipped her cider and began the laborious process of making sense of her workroom. Unsightly fudge wrappers went in the bin, bolts of fabric were rolled up, and tools were deposited onto the benches where they belonged.
Nothing. Nothing stood out since the wedding. It couldn’t be that, surely? She remembered vividly returning back home, putting Sweetie to bed, and having a glass, just like now. Another sip.
It would be rude to say she wasn’t happy for Twilight’s brother and foalsitter both, and she was. Happy for them. That’s what she did; be happy for others.
Rarity swallowed the suddenly bitter liquid as her mind went further back, just like it had the night after the wedding. To one ‘prince’ who turned out to be a walking disaster. She’d thought little of that ever since, but in the wake of two ponies happily joined, the memory resurfaced. She’d returned to her boutique intent on creating with a vengeance. If romance did not have a place in her life for the moment, then she would make the best dresses yet.
And ever since, every dress had been a battle. A losing battle. At that thought, she hovered a bolt of flannel, then the silks, shortly followed by every other fabric imaginable. The strain on her magic was an afterthought as she danced every single scrap of cloth within her reach around her. Her eyes were wide open as she grasped for a truth that would serve. Maybe what she needed was a new dress made for the sake of making it? There was a purity to that thought.
A knock on the front door scattered her concentration. The bolts and scraps all fell to the floor with a muted set of thumps. Rarity nearly dropped her glass in her haste to get to the front door. Relative haste, of course. Just because she was outside work hours and in a bit of a state did not mean she would do something so unseemly as galloping for the door.
“Pinkie Pie,” Rarity said, relinquishing her grip on the door to let it open properly. She gave the mare a curious look. “I thought you were busy.”
“Nuh-uh and nope! I said ‘later’! And if I didn’t say later, then I meant to say later, and now, it’s later! You wanna hang out?” Pinkie asked.
“Hang out,” Rarity echoed, raising a brow to an enthusiastic set of nods from her friend, Pinkie’s mane bobbing every which way. After a moment’s contemplation, Rarity drained her glass and put it down, stepping aside to let Pinkie enter.
“If you want to make dresses, that’s fine too. That’s almost like hanging out, only with more clothes!” Pinkie declared, trotting inside and nosing the door shut behind her.
“Yes, that was what I had in mind, I must admit,” Rarity murmured, discreetly wiping her muzzle. “Actually, I think I am making some progress. Would you mind terribly much coming with me?”
“If we’re going to your clothes-making-room, sure! If you’re heading up a mountain to wrestle a dragon? Well, I’m okay with that too!” Pinkie agreed, trotting after her. Rarity giggled and shook her head.
“Not quite. I’m designing dresses again. Well, because that is what I do, I suppose,” Rarity hummed.
“No it’s not,” Pinkie protested.
Rarity stifled a groan as she felt that familiar bittersweet headache building again. As much as she loved her friend, it wasn’t quite the right moment for another debate in which neither of them would come out winners.
“So, at any rate,” Rarity barrelled on once Pinkie was well inside the dimly lit studio. “I’m trying to make a dress for myself. At least, I think so. It’s madness to try to bring out something new right now, so I figured something more personalized is better. Now, you might be a little more, ah, luscious than I, but if you would just stand still...”
Pinkie Pie shrugged, giggled and nodded, all in short order as Rarity thought. Rather than a dam bursting or a river flowing with ideas, it was more akin to a machine trying to shift its gears into action, and its every click and clack was loud and distracting. The unicorn paused when she had the unusually mellow pink pony draped in a set of light yellows that looked odd on her, but would match Rarity. At least, so she thought. Maybe.
“What do you think?” Rarity asked, her tone light and airy.
“Oh, it’s super neat!” Pinkie declared, wiggling a bit under the satin. “And so soft. Can you make pillows out of this? I bet they’d be really comfy!”
“I’m sure,” Rarity agreed. “Now, I was just wondering if you had any, ah, daring suggestions.”
“Oh!” Pinkie exclaimed.
Rarity waited, running her tongue along her teeth and idly shifting the fabric a smidgen to the left.
“Well?” Rarity asked.
“Huh? Oh. Nope. Not a single idea. None whatsoever,” Pinkie said, grinning widely. “You’re the fashionista. Oh wow, that is such a silly word, you ever noticed? Tried saying it three times really quickly?”
“Ah. Well. I was just hoping you could help me out a little,” Rarity said, her smile strained. “See, I was thinking about what you said. Or, well, some of what you said. I’m perhaps not feeling my best, and this is what I, ah. It sounds so trite, but this is what I need to be happy.”
Pinkie arched a brow. “You need a dress? You have hundreds of dresses!”
“No, I need to make something, to create, you understand that, don’t you?” Rarity groaned, rolling her eyes. “Never mind,” she added, whisking the dress-in-progress away. “This is pointless.”
“I told you, I don’t make dresses, silly. I can’t make you a dress to make you happy, that’s what you do!” Pinkie claimed, pouting. “I can’t make you happy if I can’t do that by being your friend. Maybe I can throw you a party? Like, congratulations on—”
“Yes, yes,” Rarity sighed, covering her face with a hoof. “Yes, and no. I am sorry. I don’t mean to be cross with you, Pinkie, but I simply have a lot on my plate right now. Thank you for helping, again.”
“Aw, but—” Pinkie protested.
“Please,” Rarity interrupted, glancing about for her glass. Where had she left it? “Ah, never mind that, I know where the bottle is,” she murmured. “Let me show you do the door.”
“You are a very, very confusing pony,” Pinkie Pie whined, pausing by the door as Rarity held it open. Rarity winced.
“I am sorry,” Rarity allowed. “Let me make this up to you later, okay? For now, I just need to think.”
Pinkie Pie slumped and nodded, slinking out with her tail low. Rarity closed the door behind her, standing still for a full minute with her eyes flitting back and forth between the stairs up and the hatrack by the door. Taking a deep breath, quickly making sure Opal had enough food in her bowl, Rarity snatched a simple chapeau and headed out the door heading for somepony who could help her make sense of the mess.
“Green or black?” Fluttershy asked, her voice floating out through the open window.
“Green, please,” Rarity replied. “Two—no, three lumps of sugar, if you would.”
She already felt more at ease. Despite all the creatures who crept, crawled, fluttered and hopped about, the tea table outside of Fluttershy’s cottage gave her peace where her own home did not. At least, more than her studio with Pinkie Pie in it. She’d never been one to mind Pinkie’s antics much, but now she reminded Rarity of her failure. At least, that was the only possible explanation Rarity could think of for why her mannequins had somehow acquired a light red tint in her mind’s eye when she futilely tried to come up with a new approach.
“There you are,” Fluttershy announced, the pegasus mare expertly sliding the tea tray off her back, taking a seat opposite of Rarity. “If you get cold, I’m sure I can find a blanket,” she added with an apologetic little smile. As if on command, the wind picked up, a smattering of dry leaves rustling by. It would have been unwelcome were it not so picturesque.
“I’ll be fine, but you are ever so kind. And thank you for the tea, too,” Rarity replied, dipping her head in thanks. “It smells divine, as always.”
“I’m glad,” Fluttershy said, smiling.
“And I’m terribly sorry for being so out of touch lately, too,” Rarity tacked on, levitating up her cup for a sip.
“Oh that’s alright. Rainbow Dash told me you’ve been spending a lot of time with Pinkie Pie,” Fluttershy replied, holding out a hoof for a bird to land on, leaning forwards to gently nuzzle its chest fluff.
Rarity swallowed a little noisier than she would’ve liked, depositing her cup back on the plate with a clatter. “Yes, I have, at that, though more to the point they’ve been many brief meetings. Hardly ‘hanging out’.”
“Oh. Oh my. Um, is everything alright?” Fluttershy asked, letting her little avian friend go, her smile gone in an instant to be replaced with a small frown.
Rarity opened her mouth to reply, to say the first thing that came to mind, but they were hardly flattering words. She bit back her frustration and sighed, deflating.
“I don’t quite know. I may’ve mentioned I’m struggling a bit with, ah, work, and it’s hardly Pinkie Pie’s fault. We’re just very different, I suppose,” Rarity muttered.
Fluttershy leaned forward to give her tea a dainty sip. “I don’t think you’re all that different, really,” she suggested.
Rarity blinked. For an instant, she imagined herself with frizzy, curly hair, a brilliant white unicorn bouncing through market square with a wide grin on her face. A giggle built up and escaped her mouth in a most unladylike guffaw. Fluttershy’s cheeks lit up in a faint blush.
“Oh please,” Rarity snorted. “I like Pinkie Pie just fine, I count her amongst my closest friends, but that one deserves a bit more explanation, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know, sorry,” Fluttershy muttered, but when Rarity said nothing, she righted herself and cleared her throat. “I just mean, you both think about other ponies a lot. Maybe it’s just me, but I think you’re both very generous. It’s one of those things where it’s different but the same? I’m sure Twilight knows a word for it.”
Rarity huffed, though she smiled all the same. “Darling, you see the best in everypony, and I won’t balk at praise,” she replied. “I don’t want to take anything away from Pinkie Pie, either, but the comparison is more than a stretch, I feel.”
“You’re probably right,” Fluttershy said, words that were agreement where her fiddling with her hooves said otherwise. Rarity took another sip of tea.
“Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?” the pegasus ventured, her eyes on her teacup.
Rarity rolled her jaw. She had no idea what the honest answer to that question was. In fact, she did not even know what the real question was, the words slowly dissolving as her mind locked on to entirely different things. Shapes that weren’t dresses, but ponies. A singular pony, rather. At length, she leaned in for another sip, noting that her cup was fast becoming empty.
“I’m fine,” she muttered with a dismissive wave. “It’s fine. So. Tell me, what have you been up to this week?”
“Don’t stay out too late!” Rarity called after Sweetie Belle, receiving no reply from the rapidly receding two-toned tail. She gave a small huff and closed the door after her sister. Another week spent, and another weekend come. Rarity passed the studio by, barely offering the room a glance.
The dress sales were declining, and part of her wanted to take some pleasure in that. Pinkie Pie’s little venture had been a short-lived success; nothing that would reach Trotter Street in Canterlot. Rarity poked her cheek as she swallowed that spiteful little thought, pausing on the second floor. She stole a glance inside her bedroom, eyeing her nightstand drawers for a fraction of a second.
“Being happy,” Rarity muttered, echoing those words again. As ever, when she invoked them, she saw Pinkie Pie before her. On impulse, she walked on to the rarely used end of the second floor hallway. Seeking to leave Pinkie Pie behind, she ascended the creaking, darkened stairs that led to the attic.
Some ponies apparently got happiness for free. For Pinkie Pie, it was evident that happiness was a decision, not a result. A state given gratis rather than the product of labour in the studio. She thought once more of Fluttershy’s words, to her friend’s attempts to liken her to Pinkie Pie, and nearly burst out laughing on the spot.
The door at the top of the stairs yielded to her gentle touch, giving off a long, wailing creak. Rarity coughed as her passage through the aging oak door frame rewarded her with a whirling of dust. Taking care to keep her tail off of the floor, she brought a leg up to shield her eyes.
No magic had drawn her here. No moonlit spellbound journey, this, but rather, a sojourn brought on by a search for inspiration at its widest and farthest. Rarity magicked aside the curtains to the boutique’s topmost chamber, letting in what little light of day was left. More dust. The unicorn gave a great, wracking sneeze that she was glad nopony was around to hear or see.
“What in all things fabulous,” Rarity muttered, crinkling her snout. “Am I even doing here?”
Despite her skepticism, she gently shut the door behind her and stepped inside the attic proper. Here were all the things she had cast aside. From antiquated memorabilia that no longer held meaning via things that simply needed to be stored out of sight to outdated furniture that not even she could make fashionable again. Rarity made a grimace at the lava lamp her parents had bought her three years hence. A moment later, she levitated that very same curiosity over, depositing it by the door. Perhaps Rainbow Dash or Pinkie Pie would like it.
Shortly after, she laboriously dragged a heavy crate to the side, her horn straining with the effort. She knew what was in that box, and had no desire to revisit that particular memory. Brushing aside some unsightly cobwebs, Rarity spotted a small wooden chest she couldn’t quite recall the nature of. Gently working it free from its corner, she put the chest on top of a garish table that would sadly never quite be “in” again. As an afterthought, she leaned over to crack the window open to let in some air.
Voices trickled in. Rainbow Dash’s whoops and cackles mixed with Pinkie Pie’s giggles, but the two ponies were far too distant for Rarity to make out more than that. Rarity only barely resisted the urge to look out the tall spire’s window, instead focusing on the chest. The lid lifted easily enough.
Immediately, she was rewarded with an assortment of gems glittering in the limited light of the loft. Rarity levitated out the gem-studded costume designed for a filly half her size, taking a step back. Grand opals and rose rubies adorned the flower-costume’s leaves, each of the gems perfectly spaced and fastened.
“Hyacinth? No, Blue Blossom, was it?” Rarity mused aloud, trying to remember the name of the filly who had worn it. All the foals in the school play were impressed with her work, naturally, but one had insisted Rarity keep the dress she’d made for her, despite Rarity’s insistence they all keep their own costumes. Rarity had barely agreed at the end of a far too long quarrel.
The costume turned around as Rarity held it aloft, frowning. It had been her crowning moment. Her defining night. She had earned her cutie mark and thought she’d understood what it was she was meant to do. Rarity glanced back at her own flank. Days like these, both her cutie mark and the whole ‘Element of Generosity’ thing felt silly. Misplaced on her. It was tempting to envy Applejack and Fluttershy who knew exactly what it was they were meant to do.
Rarity licked her suddenly dry lips. She’d wanted them to keep the costumes. Even now, finding this little gem-studded memory in cloth felt wrong. It wasn’t just her memory; the dress still belonged to Blue Bloom. That was her name, she remembered now. That was how she had wanted it. She had wanted Blue Bloom to keep it.
The attic was cramped and entirely too small for the realization.
On wooden legs, Rarity walked over to the tiny attic window, resting her head on the dusty windowsill with nary a care for her coat. Outside and far below in the little park that hid behind her boutique, Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash were playing. There seemed to be no rhythm or reason to what they were doing; Dash swooped down after Pinkie, and Pinkie herself giggled and bounced around.
Suddenly, Fluttershy’s words made some semblance of sense. As if that wasn’t enough, so did Pinkie Pie’s ramblings. Rarity glanced around the empty attic as if though admitting as much was a hazard in and by itself.
Pinkie Pie did nothing but frolick around trying to make others happy. Sometimes that was hard work, as Pinkie Pie had explained, but it was the core of her being. As for her own part—
Rarity made for the door. Her legs moved mechanically as she turned the words around and around in her head. When had she lost sight of her own purpose so completely? The second floor whisked by, as did the boutique’s front door. She found herself speeding up once she was out, moving at a brisk canter as she skirted around her home and made for the park.
“Pinkie Pie!” Rarity called, long before she made it within earshot of the two ponies. Some stallion or other gave her an odd look that she hardly noticed.
“Pinkie Pie!” she called again, still moving with determination. She raced across the small bridge that spanned the brook, hooves thundering against rock and then soil. Finally, Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash stopped their little games, looking her way.
“Pinkie,” Rarity called once more, slowing down. Pinkie was smiling as she always did, tail swishing and bobbing. Rainbow Dash was giving her a curious look, ears perked as she landed at Pinkie’s side.
“Oh, hiya Rarity!” Pinkie said, waving as if though they did not stand close enough to touch, now.
“What’s up?” Dash asked. “Are you running? Exercising?”
“No, I, hah—I need,” Rarity tried, slowly steadying her breath. “I need Pinkie Pie.”
Rainbow Dash arched a brow impossibly high, and Pinkie Pie giggled. “Oh gosh, usually—” the pink mare began.
“Please,” Rarity interrupted, fixing her with a stare. “You are right, but you are also wrong,” she added.
It was entirely respectless to demand of her time like this, of course. Rarity opened her mouth to amend herself. To take her words back, or to add to them; anything. Before she could speak, Pinkie and Dash’s eyes met. The brash flier grinned at Pinkie Pie and nudged her with a hoof.
“Catch you later Pinks,” Dash said, breaking into a hover.
“Yeppers!” Pinkie affirmed, giving Dash a brief hug. “I think this is kind of important.”
“I don’t mean—” Rarity tried, but Pinkie silenced her with a giggle.
“It’s okay, silly. Let’s go!” Pinkie said.
“Very well, I, ah, yes,” Rarity replied, turning on the spot and leading the way back towards the Boutique. The thoughts were still warring for room in her head, but as she stitched them together, they all fit in. It was an almost subconscious process, now.
“You know I still can’t make you a dress,” Pinkie said, tilting her head. “I mean, I thought of two different ways to make earth ponies fly since yesterday, and one of them even doesn’t involve balloons or a catapult, but I’m really bad at dressmaking.”
Rarity shook her head. “I think you would be quite good at it if you took the time to learn the basics. You and I, we, ah. We aren’t so different, I think, and that might extend to this. With all the time spent decorating, you must have an eye for symmetry, or at the very least beauty.”
Pinkie Pie lowered her gaze to the ground, a much more demure smile on her face for a second. “Aw. Thanks, but you didn’t really want to talk about dressmaking with me, did you?” she asked. Rarity paused to open the door for them, frowning at the accuracy of the almost staggeringly lucid question.
“No. No I did not,” she agreed. “You were right.”
“Wow, I don’t hear that often. Or, maybe I do. Maybe half the time, almost! What did I say now?” Pinkie Pie queried.
At first, Rarity gave no reply. She stared down the door to her studio, and the first few steps towards that room were hard fought. As of late, she had far too many unhappy memories tied to that exact part of her boutique. Her legs all tensed up, but when she managed to take the first step, the next one followed easier, and just like that, the battle was won. With a triumphant grin, Rarity led the way into her workroom, gesturing towards the little model’s pedestal she kept.
“You said ‘No you don’t’,” Rarity stated.
“Oh. Those don’t sound like my words at all,” Pinkie gasped. “Are you sure it wasn’t something with a ‘yes’?”
Rarity giggled. “No, I said I make dresses. That it is what I do. You protested.”
As she spoke, Rarity magicked over all the silk she could find. Her colors paraded in front of her, and within seconds she found the ones she wanted. Shimmering pearly white and a deep pink.
“That’s not what you do at all,” Pinkie shrugged, lifting a hoof as Rarity wound the fabric underneath. With expert precision, Rarity swept her in layers of fabric that seemed to make themselves. Pinkie stood before her, and all thought of how the dress would look upon herself or in her store was gone.
“You don’t decide to be happy. You do work at it,” Rarity added, frowning. She watched Pinkie Pie’s face for any sign of recognition—or displeasure. Perhaps she had it all wrong. She doubted it, but there was always the risk.
“Huh. Um. I don’t really think about it like that,” Pinkie said, face scrunched up in consternation. “I just want to make other ponies happy. That makes me happy. But I can make other ponies happy when I’m happy, so, oh wow, my head hurts now.”
Rarity laughed while the scissors did her bidding. “You do not think of it as hard work, I suppose, but it is.”
“Sure,” Pinkie agreed. “Is that good? Can I have some fudge for that? That totally sounds like something prize-worthy!”
“If I had any fudge left, rest assured, I would give it to you,” Rarity said, a faint blush on her cheeks.
“There’s one over by the window! I can smell it!” Pinkie claimed.
Rarity squinted, and sure enough, one unopened and forgotten fudge wrapper rested by the corner of the windowsill. With a roll of her eyes, Rarity levitated over the stray candy to Pinkie. The earth mare seized the treat in her mouth, wrapper and all, only to spit the wrapper out a moment later.
“But this is all about me,” Pinkie said. “I love talking about me, especially if it’s about me and candy, but—”
“I have, for all purposes and intents, made it,” Rarity said.
“Made what?”
“It! The it. My dresses are sold in Canterlot, I’m in the weekly fashion magazines more often than not, and honestly, I never cared for the bits themselves,” Rarity explained, giving her friend a wan smile as she grabbed needle and thread. “Trim? Ah. Yellow. But which shade—nevermind, I know,” she murmured.
“Hardly news, but yes, sure,” Rarity agreed, narrowing her eyes as she leaned closer to make sure the seams were right. “Except, it’s not all good news. I suppose I’m a little like Rainbow Dash in that respect.”
“She’s a pegasus, silly,” Pinkie commented.
“Quite,” Rarity sighed, smiling. “She’s also fiercely competitive, and, more to the point, she needs something to fight, something to strive for. Haven’t you ever wondered why she’s never joined up with the Wonderbolts?”
Pinkie Pie’s smile faltered for a moment, the corners of her mouth tilting dangerously.
“I just hope she doesn’t. I don’t want her to move from Ponyville,” the earth mare said, ears drooping.
Rarity puffed out her cheeks and gave her tools a rest, warmly nuzzling Pinkie Pie’s cheeks. “For all your insight into how I work, you apparently missed this one, darling. Have you ever seen Spitflame or whatever her name is perform a sonic rainboom?”
“Um, no—”
“Thrice?”
Pinkie Pie licked her lips.
“Pinkie, dear, I cannot say for sure, but my personal theory is that joining them would prove beyond a shadow of a doubt that she’s better than they are. Perhaps a year ago she didn’t truly believe it, despite all her bluster. Now, she knows it. She would have nothing to work towards if she admitted it, and you know what Rainbow Dash is like when she’s on top.”
“Nappy,” Pinkie giggled.
“Restless and bored, yes,” Rarity agreed, frowning. More cloth floated over at her command. “High collar. More is more, here, I believe, but it won’t be too tight.”
“That’s a lot of stuff about other ponies,” Pinkie said, craning her neck to lock eyes with Rarity. “You’re still not talking about you. I like hearing about you. You’re neat.”
Rarity giggled. “Well, you do know how to make a mare feel special, hm? No, in all seriousness, I am working towards a point and—hold still!”
“Sorry,” Pinkie whispered out of the corner of her mouth, her lips barely moving.
“I sometimes get lost striving for success, perhaps, but it’s only recently that I forgot exactly what it is I do. What I want to do,” Rarity murmured, surrounding the entire dress with her magic where it lay atop Pinkie. She gave it a few tugs and put her scissors and needles all away. Pinkie giggled.
“That tickles,” Pinkie commented, but the look she gave Rarity wasn’t one of her usual wide grins. She smiled, a simple, small and private smile for Rarity alone, full of expectancy. She was waiting for Rarity to finish.
“I want to make others shine. To make others happy in my own way. Beauty is a goal, but it’s a tool, too,” Rarity said, tasting the words even as she spoke them. It was hardly a planned speech, but it sounded elegant in its own way. “I think you knew this.”
“Everypony wants to make everypony else happy, don’t they?” Pinkie shrugged, glancing over her own flank and all around. “This is really pretty.”
“Maybe,” Rarity hummed. “Maybe we all do. But you were wrong, too.”
“Oh. Yeah. You said that too. I hear that a lot too. Maybe as much as half the time,” Pinkie giggle-snorted.
“You can make me happy, and not just by being a friend,” Rarity said, rolling her neck.
“Is it by giving you a hug? Or by throwing you a party? I know we’re having a party soon, and I hope you know that too, but I’m sure I can whip something up on short notice!” Pinkie said, smiling as if though she hoped she’d be called on for exactly that.
“No, you can make me happy by accepting this dress,” Rarity said.
Pinkie Pie blinked.
“It’s yours, not mine. It never was. That’s why it’s the finest thing I’ve designed to date, I think,” Rarity murmured, running her hoof along the fabric. The silk and Pinkie’s coat yielded to her touch; white and pink in the simplest of combinations that still accentuated Pinkie Pie’s own colors, bordered with the yellow of her cutie mark. The collar had traces of Rarity’s own blue, a little touch she couldn’t quite resist.
“Thank you,” Rarity added before Pinkie Pie could speak up or protest. Closing her eyes, Rarity leaned against her and rested her head atop Pinkie’s, letting out a soft, contented sigh.
Rarity hummed to herself as she trotted around her boutique making sure everything looked perfect for whichever customer would wander in next. She straightened out the dresses on the racks, rearranged some of the new hats she’d made yesterday—the maroon beret looked far better in front—and only barely resisted the urge to give the top shelves a swift dusting. Only now did she notice the light snowfall outside.
The pegasi were testing the cloud quality and inspecting the snowflakes as they always did when it was time to usher in the winter. They wouldn’t let the snow settle yet, but it probably meant no more customers for a short while. She remembered very keenly being annoyed about this last year, but as it was, Rarity merely smiled and trotted to the back of the store, making for the studio.
“It’s snowing!” Sweetie Belle called. The little filly raced down the stairs at speeds that could only be called hazardous, and it was all Rarity could do to grimace as her stomach clenched.
“Do be careful,” Rarity replied when she again found her breath. “And yes, yes it is. I don’t think it will last. I suppose you will want to go play with your friends, then?”
Sweetie ground a hoof against the floor. “Please? I can do my chores later, I promise!”
“Of course,” Rarity smiled. “Go on then!”
With a wordless cry of joy, Sweetie bounded towards the door, and Rarity resumed her trek towards her workroom. Of course, she fully expected Sweetie Belle to come back far too late to deal with her chores, and she would probably be wet or muddy. Rarity’s eye twitched at the realization. Wet, muddy and messy. Still, it was a small sacrifice to make for her sister to have a little fun, and Sweetie would move back to their parents’ house once they got back from their fourth cruise this season, anyway.
Only, the door had never shut. Rarity turned around to find Sweetie Belle standing in the doorway giving her an odd look.
“You’re really happy,” Sweetie said, the words almost an accusation. Her head was at an angle.
“I suppose I am, at that,” Rarity shrugged. “Off you go. The snow won’t last,” she said, and at those words, her little sister disappeared without a backwards glance. Finally, Rarity slipped inside her studio.
It was the truth, naturally. She was happier than she had been weeks ago. Sure, there were still ups and downs, and when Opal decided to make a bed out of one of her finer hats, she wasn’t quite above deciding that the day was going to go down the drain, but by and large, she was happy. Most ponies were happy most of the time, but to go around contemplating that fact and relish in it, that was a different state entirely.
And every time she headed to her studio to contemplate the up and coming styles, she smiled. Before she had even reached the center of the room, she was levitating up cloth and tools at what might seem random to an unskilled observer, but within minutes, patterns were emerging. She closed her eyes for a moment as she worked, guiding her tools by magic alone as she indulged herself. She had one secret, if one could call secret what one didn’t fully understand oneself; these days the mannequins came alive as she worked.
The cloth pony by the far wall was no longer a faded white, but instead glowed a vibrant pink so long as she did not look. A hint of laughter played at the edge of hearing, and when the first of the mannequins was decked out in a half-finished pattern, she had to open her eyes and mouth both, ready to berate the next for not standing still.
It did, of course. The pony-shaped thing stood wooden and immobile, passively awaiting her next move. Why would it ever do anything else? Rarity clicked her tongue and shook her head at herself. She knew where she was getting her inspiration these days. Sure enough, she plied her trade designing with the intent of spreading fabulosity far and wide, but in her mind, every single scrap of cloth came to rest on the flank of the same single pink pony.
Granted, it also helped if she could occasionally pretend she was pricking a certain pompous prince on the flank with her needles, but that was less of an issue now than it had been before. It was a filly’s pastime, a childish pleasure against a slight that had somehow lost its power lately. She could think of her catastrophic expectations without any pain.
And again her mind wandered to Pinkie Pie. Or rather, she figured, to the dress she had made.
“I really ought to thank Pinkie Pie for letting me do that for her,” Rarity murmured, though she had done exactly that. She had thanked her, but as she completed that thought, she also remembered her own words from weeks hence. During one of those many talks with Pinkie Pie, chats she’d now come to miss, she had promised to make up some conversational misstep to her—yet she never did.
Rarity was outside the boutique before she knew what she was doing. It was rather unlike her to be so impulsive, but then, she was hardly one to fail to live up to her obligations, either. Rarity adopted a slow trot as she made for Sugarcube corner, but she’d barely made it halfway, seeking to cut through Ponyville’s market square, when she spotted two of her friends.
“Howdy, Rarity!” Applejack called. The farmpony stood behind her stall as she did every Wednesday during market, waving at her from behind a prodigious amount of apples speckled by the light snowfall. Her only current customer beamed at her as well. Time saved, then.
“Hi!” Pinkie said, bouncing an apple on her head before devouring the fruit in one bite.
“You’re paying for that, right?” Applejack murmured, frowning.
“Hello, girls,” Rarity replied, trotting over to join the pair. “How are you?”
“Oh, just dandy,” Applejack said, smiling. “Two more hours and I’m packing up, I reckon. Me and Pinkie were just talking about cooking and such. Trying to plan what we’re making for Friday.”
“Oh yes, Friday,” Rarity repeated, covering her mouth. “I had nearly forgotten all about the—the get-together for...” she hummed as she thought.
“The ‘Congratulations Fluttershy on Getting Your Small Animals Veterinarian License’ party!” Pinkie helpfully supplied.
“Which she’s had since before I met her, and that’s a long while ago,” Applejack said, rolling her eyes.
“Duh,” Pinkie retorted, adding in a little giggle-snort and reaching out to poke Applejack’s chest. “I know that, but what you don’t know, and what I didn’t know, but what I know now, is that she never had a celebration, so we’re fixing that!”
“I wouldn’t miss it for the world, of course,” Rarity said, giggling despite herself. “And I know Fluttershy is looking forward to the soiree.”
“Ain’t no pony that doesn’t look forward to one of Pinkie’s parties, a’course,” Applejack shrugged, grinning.
“That isn’t why I am here, though,” Rarity said.
“Don’t suppose you’re here for a bushel of apples either, huh?” Applejack asked. “Sales’re a bit slow. The apples are going away at a decent rate despite that though, so thanks for that,” she added, frowning as Pinkie Pie buried her head in one of the apple crates.
“Welcome!” Pinkie replied, pausing mid-munch to perk her ears. “Oh, wait. Are you here because you wanna hang out?” she asked, beaming at Rarity.
“Not quite, but all this talk of food is quite relevant,” Rarity retorted, raising a brow as Pinkie’s smile sagged a bit. “See, I do recall me owing you a favor, as it were. Would you like to have lunch tomorrow? My treat.”
“Oh wow, would I!” Pinkie chirped, her mirth returned in full. The pink pony bounced up and down on the spot. “That would be great!”
“Lovely. Well, it is no big thing, but I will reserve us a table at a café somewhere just to save us the inconvenience of the after-work rush. Come by after I close the shop tomorrow, would you?” Rarity asked, turning on the spot.
“Yeppers!” Pinkie affirmed. Both she and Applejack waved as the unicorn made her way back towards her home. Rarity’s whole body felt light as she trotted along, pausing only to duck her head inside The Eight Plates to let the owner know she’d like a table tomorrow afternoon. With business settled, she set course for home, for dinner, and for bed.
Rarity groaned and levitated her eye cover away, squinting. She lay there, half awake under the merciless morning sun, wondering what had awoken her whilst brushing aside the last of the cobwebs of nonsensical dreams. A moment later, somepony hammered on her door with intensity that suggested it wasn’t the first time. Grimacing, Rarity slipped off her bed and marched over to her vanity, giving her mane the simplest of treatments. If somepony was so rude as to want her before opening hours—and before breakfast, too—they could wait.
And wait they did, every thirty seconds punctuated by a set of knocks. Rarity’s frown grew and grew until finally she set her brush aside and descended the stairs. Sweetie Belle would of course be at school, and all of her friends knew better than to impose this early.
Well, most of them did, and Rainbow Dash would probably knock on her window. Rarity sighed and grabbed the door with a burst of magic, flinging it open, coming face to face with a vaguely familiar grey-maned stallion with a chef’s hat.
“In case you failed to notice, the boutique is not yet open,” Rarity suggested, putting on a painfully tight smile. “The opposite of that being closed. As in, not available.”
“Yes, yes, awfully sorry,” the larger stallion mumbled, coughing and shifting his weight. “It’s just that I’ll soon open my restaurant for the day, and us professionals, we can’t very well take breaks in the middle of the day, now can we?”
Rarity shrugged affably. She recognized him now, having designed a line of uniforms for Second Helping’s restaurant staff.
“I suppose not,” Rarity allowed. “All the same, unless this is an emergency of fashion—”
Rarity’s eyes went wide as she let that notion enter her head. “Wait. Is that it? Are the bow ties too garish? Did I miss my mark? Are the aprons not perfect?”
“No, nothing of the sort,” Second Helping said, grinning until his eyes crinkled. “No, your work is exquisite, and I cannot thank you enough!”
“Ah. Well, it is good of you to say so,” Rarity replied, touching her mane. Her ill humors were rapidly fading. “How may I be of assistance?”
“Well, I was talking to Buttercream of The Eight Plates just yesterday night,” the stallion said, averting his eyes. “And she was awfully proud of having booked a reservation for two for you at her cafe.”
“I frequently dine out,” Rarity countered, tilting her head, to which Second Helping nodded, his smile widening a bit.
“Of course. If you say so. Now, no ill will towards Buttercream, but honestly, we both know that refined patrons such as yourself would accept only the very best. We also know, let’s be equally honest,” he added, clearing his throat. “The Eight Plates is such a common place compared to my restaurant. I would be glad to offer the two of you free tables if you would eat at The Silvered Fork instead.”
Rarity opened her mouth to reply, closed it again, and opened it yet again, grasping for words.
“Well. Ah. Truly, bits are no object, but I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” Rarity replied.
“Excellent! I’ll keep a table free, thank you!” Second Helping said, grinning. “I knew you were a mare of good taste.”
“I am, at that, when you put it like that. Good day.” Rarity smiled, closing the door on the rather unexpected yet not unwelcome visitor.
Barely had Rarity finished her breakfast, a simple daisy baguette almost half-finished when her door was again beset with the hammering of hooves. She bit back a sigh and levitated the leftovers to the kitchen sink, trotting towards the door with a call of “coming!”
“Ah. Miss Rarity. It has came to my attention that you are seeking to dine at a substandard establishment. Now, surely you’ve heard of my restaurant, The Golden Rose, yes?”
Mercifully, Pinkie Pie didn’t knock. Her first thought was that she was glad to see her, but the second one was that for once, she was appreciative of Pinkie’s minor break in decorum, walking straight in despite it being past opening hours.
“Hi Rarity! Oh, wow, you look great!” Pinkie gasped.
Rarity looked up from her work fastening the last clasp of the simple white-and-blue dress she wore, offering Pinkie a brief smile.
“Thank you. I think you are a little underdressed, though. It’s a shame. I would have loved to see you in the dress I made you,” Rarity said. Once she’d spoken the words, she realized how much she wanted to see exactly that. She bit her lower lip, staring at Pinkie Pie, lost in thought.
“Oh. Uh. Whoops?” Pinkie suggested, peering down at her own neck. “Did I do something wrong? Sorry! You just said that it wasn’t a big deal, and I thought big dresses were for big deals. I was sure I had it right this time, so—”
“No, you’re quite right,” Rarity sighed, puffing out her cheeks. “You could of course not have known.” After a moment’s deliberation, she worked her own dress over her head and tossed it over a clothes rack, levitating over a brush to set her mane straight again.
“Apparently,” Rarity continued. “We are dining at The Crystal-Gilded Carafe tonight.”
Pinkie Pie blinked.
“The huge fancy restaurant they opened last year,” Rarity said, her smile decidedly lopsided. “I’m honestly not quite certain how it all happened, but there we are.”
“You probably mean ‘we’re going there’. We’re still in your shop. But oh, wait, is that the place with the shiny windows and the even shinier tables?” Pinkie asked, her eyes slowly widening. “But you just took off your pretty dress!”
“Quite so,” agreed Rarity, rolling her jaw as she put her brush aside. “It would be poor taste for me to wear proper attire if you do not. We’ll be late if we don’t leave now, and besides, the natural look is in again. It is this week, anyway,” she shrugged. “Shall we?"
“We should! I’ve only eaten lunch twice today so I would have room for food with you!” Pinkie said, bouncing over the door. Glancing back at Rarity, she smiled broadly before reaching out for the door handle with her mouth, holding it open for her. The unicorn giggled as she stepped through, smiling at her friend.
“I thought you’d like that!” Pinkie said, grinning wide as she trotted up to walk side by side with Rarity. “But then, I also thought Applejack would love to be repaid for all the apples I ate with a song about how many apples I ate and how much I liked them, so I guess it was about time I guessed right.”
“I’m sure it was a very nice song,” Rarity offered.
“Oh it was! You should have heard it. I think it’s easily in the top ten of my apple-related songs for this week!” Pinkie agreed, slowly coming to a halt, and Rarity stopped with her. It wasn’t a terribly long walk to the restaurant, and now it loomed before them. The afternoon sun reflected off pristine windows, playing with the large gem that adorned the sign above the building’s facade. A lesser pony might be intimidated by the sheer opulence visible through its front, neat tables all in a row polished and cleaned with care, the plates alone worth half again as much as a rack of Rarity’s weekly creations.
At least, Rarity assumed it would be a little frightening to others. Even she herself felt a little uncomfortable under the disdainful glances of the waiters paid in excess to make the customers feel important through feeling unimportant.
Pinkie Pie giggled as she made for the door. With a little shrug, Rarity followed. It was a terrible idea, of course. She half expected Celestia herself to descend from the heavens to tell her this was a recipe for disaster, but that particular vision was given pause by another thought. Her mind was elsewhere as she trailed that incorrigibly messy pink tail. She really, really wanted to see Pinkie Pie in the dress. In her dress. Whichever one of them it truly belonged to.
“You have a reservation, I presume,” a tall mare stated more than asked the very second they were inside. Her voice was the only noise outside of the muffled clinks and clatters of culture, the dark unicorn stood behind a menu-bearing pedestal in a landscape of rare wood and exquisite marble. Rarity bit her lower lip, casting a glance over her flank. Perhaps it wasn’t too late to find a café instead.
“Sure we do! Hey, do you guys have pie?” Pinkie Pie asked.
“Our menu—” the waitress began after a polite pause.
“You do now! Hi, I’m Pinkie Pie!” Pinkie giggled, extending a hoof while she shot a glance at Rarity. “Gets them every time,” she whispered, her hoof ignored.
“Ah, hah. There should be a reservation for two under ‘Rarity’,” the unicorn suggested before the tie-wearing mare’s frown swallowed her face.
“So there is,” the waitress responded, sounding rather displeased with that singular fact. “If you would follow me?”
Not twenty seconds later, Pinkie Pie and Rarity found themselves seated in a rather secluded corner table by the window. It was as if though the owner of the establishment, one Amethyst Gleam, foresaw their need for a little privacy. Perhaps he knew Pinkie Pie, then? Rarity shrugged and levitated up the menu, idly browsing the salads.
“They really don’t have pie,” Pinkie said, her eyes and snout creeping over the rim of her own menu to stare down at Rarity.
“It’s in the dessert menu, dear,” Rarity commented.
“Oh. Why?”
“Because they’re dessert pies,” Rarity sighed. They were already attracting glares; Pinkie had both her hooves on the table. The unicorn drew back a bit and cleared her throat. “For dinner, you’ll mostly find pasta and heavier salads with sauce.”
Pinkie Pie sat back down and nodded. “Okie-dokie. I guess everything else looks tasty too, just wondering!”
“Volume, darling,” Rarity admonished, but it was a half-hearted comment. It was remarkable how Pinkie’s little and not-so-little eccentricities had become manageable over the years. Things for Rarity to weave around rather than mash her head against. When Pinkie Pie put her menu down, Rarity did the same, exchanging a brief smile with her before she sought the eyes of one of the passing waiters.
“Have the madames decided?” an arch and stiff stallion asked, eyes barely cracked open as he gazed down upon them.
“I’ll start with a simple salad of the chef’s choosing, and then I’ll have the pasta di neighpoli. Apple cider, please,” Rarity said, levitating up the menu for the unicorn waiter to seize with his own magic.
“Rarity, do you think I can just have one big pie?” Pinkie asked in an exaggerated whisper. “They have pies with chocolate in them. Why didn’t I—wait.”
The pink pony’s eyes widened as her smile grew in tune with her volume. “Idea! I can order a bunch of pies!”
Rarity winced and offered the waiter a brief grin that was entirely insufficient before she turned towards her friend.
“I don’t think they would appreciate that,” Rarity suggested. The statue-like waiter said nothing, but the next table over had started muttering. “It’s usually one from each of the courses, with some exceptions,” Rarity added.
“Oh!” Pinkie giggled, holding up the menu for the waiter with an unbroken smile. “I’ll have what you’re having then.”
Rarity flashed the wooden waiter another smile before he left them in relative solitude, breathing a little easier once he’d departed.
“I’m sorry,” Rarity said. “This didn’t quite turn out how I had intended it. It’s not really inside your comfort zone, is it?”
It was a rhetorical question, but Pinkie Pie knit her brow and lapsed into silence that lasted for long enough for Rarity to begin to fidget.
“It’s okay,” Pinkie finally said, putting back on her usual smile. “Ponies are different, and it’s just like a game! Different set of rules, and everypony has fun in the end, right?”
Rarity pursed her lips and glanced over Pinkie’s shoulders. Truth be told, she was the only pony in the entire locale who actually expressed any joy. The unicorn felt a small smirk tug at her own lips. She suspected even Fancypants would have been bored with the airs put on.
“You aren’t even the least bit intimidated, are you?” Rarity asked, filling a glass of water for herself and taking a single, measured sip.
“Intimate? Here?” Pinkie asked, glancing about so quickly, her mane nearly sent the carafe toppling. She lowered her voice to a barest of whispers, a conspiratorial hiss that drew yet more attention. “I don’t think that means what you think it means.”
Rarity barely offered the neighbouring table a glance now. The mare and colt were obviously boorish rubes if every traded word between Pinkie and herself were more interesting than whatever they discussed.
“Intimidated. Afraid, Pinkie,” Rarity clarified with a low chuckle, nodding her thanks to the waiter who returned with two small plates of even-smaller helpings of salad. Pinkie Pie leaned forwards for a bite.
“Oh. That makes even less sense,” Pinkie giggled amidst mouthfuls of spiced lettuce and tomatoes. “What’s there to be afraid of here?”
“For a pony who makes a habit of trying to make Twilight pull her mane out with her antics around our dear princesses, perhaps not much,” Rarity allowed, spearing a small slice of tomato with the salad fork. “Use the cutlery at least, will you?”
Pinkie stared at her, at her hooves, then down at the fine silverware.
“Just use your—ah. Huh. I suppose that’s a bit of an oversight,” Rarity murmured. “At any rate, many would find it frightening to be out of their depth. I believe I would, if I didn’t know how to behave.”
Pinkie Pie shrugged and dug into her salad, finishing it in another vicious set of bites. Rarity subtly shielded her own food with a foreleg, but if that was a mild annoyance, the continued glances and glares from the nearest table was downright incensing. Rarity bit back a growl whilst Pinkie Pie swallowed the last of her food.
“That’s silly,” Pinkie declared. “That’s not something worth being scared of. It’s not important, like making sure your friends know you love them, or making other ponies happy. Oh, and making sure Gummy has fresh water!”
“If everypony got to choose what they were afraid of, life would be a lot simpler,” Rarity retorted. “I imagine most would want to be afraid of nothing at all.”
“You can try not to be afraid of silly things. And if you can’t, you can ask a friend to help you. I would probably be a little scared right now too if I was alone,” Pinkie admitted, leaning over to grab the carafe, pouring herself a glass.
“Truly?”
“Sure! But I have you here, and that makes it all okay,” Pinkie beamed.
Rarity took a long sip of water to buy herself time, brow furrowed in thought. The frank admission sent a warmth straight to her chest, and for a moment she thought she might choke on the water. Swallowing was difficult, all of a sudden. She let her eyes drop to the table.
“Perhaps,” Rarity murmured. “And in hindsight, I don’t think I would ever want to stop worrying either. It’s hardly the cheeriest of topics, but if you stop worrying about what matters, suddenly you might find yourself not caring, either.”
“I think that’s a really nice thought. That’s not sad at all,” Pinkie opined, reaching out with a foreleg, sharing a touch. “You’re really smart.”
“They’re your own words rewrapped, I should think,” Rarity countered, smiling back at her friend. Pinkie got up, neatly bounced around the table and seized her around the neck in a hug. It wasn’t entirely unwelcome, and in hindsight, it was a wonder that Pinkie had been able to sit still for so long without bursting into flame or just plain old bursting. Rarity shook her head and leaned back against Pinkie.
And on the next table over, two sets of eyes exchanged glances and hushed whispers. The dark red pegasus mare and the light blue unicorn stallion who had been staring every time Pinkie Pie so much as moved might have a point in that it was a minor breach of etiquette, but it was the last drop all the same. Rarity gritted her teeth and gently disentangled herself from Pinkie Pie.
“Pinkie? Be a dear and keep yourself entertained for a moment. I need to go have a little chat with our neighbours,” Rarity said, smiling at the rather nonplussed Pinkie Pie who blessedly nodded and stayed put.
“Alright,” Rarity snapped, letting her distaste known as she approached the suddenly far less interested couple. The mare focused intently on her food, and the stallion studiously ignored her.
“You two will kindly mind your own business,” Rarity hissed. That there was not a single set of eyes in the restaurant not upon her now save for the targets of her ire. “I am having dinner with a very good friend here, and yes, she may be a tad eccentric, but that is for me to appreciate, and not for you to sit here and judge either of us for!”
“That would hardly be a problem if you kept it to yourselves,” the stallion murmured.
“And we do! Now if the occasional laugh endangers your will to live, or if my friend’s habits threaten your humors, then I’ve half a mind to ask the manager—an acquaintance of mine, might I add— to remove you from from the premises, because I am frankly—”
“Hey, Rarity, look! I can balance both our plates on my snout!” Pinkie called.
Rarity barely had time to turn around to observe Pinkie Pie’s attempt to keep herself entertained. That, and to see that Pinkie Pie could, in fact, not balance two plates on her snout.
“I really thought I could add the carafe and still be all peachy,” Pinkie Pie said.
“Uh-huh,” Rarity agreed, keeping her eyes ahead as they walked. The darkness was slowly settling in, lightbulbs and firefly lamps slowing coming alive one by one in response.
“You know what I think? I think they cheat. They must put something in their platters. Plates. Is there a difference? Isn’t a platter just a plate with extra letters?” Pinkie asked.
“Platters are usually larger. Those were definitively plates,” Rarity suggested. A gust of wind sent leaves tumbling across the street, their rustle the only noise other than their own voices and hoofsteps. Rarity had started walking, and Pinkie had followed, but they had no direction.
“Oh, okie-dokie,” the earth mare replied, bouncing along for a little while. Soon, she mellowed down to a more manageable trot, and when Rarity made no reply, Pinkie’s ears drooped.
“Are you mad at me for getting us kicked out?” Pinkie's voice was more quiet now by far.
Rarity frowned. “We weren’t kicked out. We were asked to leave. There’s a big difference.”
Pinkie gasped. “Have you been kicked out of a lot of places? I’ve been kicked, thrown and tossed out of lots of different shops, rides and every place you can think of, and even I didn’t know that.”
“All I mean to say is, there were no kicks involved,” Rarity muttered, casting her a sidelong glance. Again, the smile she couldn’t quite explain threatened to show. “And no, I am not. There are those of noble bearing who know how to treat others, like Fancypants and Fleur de Lis in Canterlot—”
“I really liked them,” Pinkie offered. “Fancypants even asked if he could try my Party Cannon after the party!”
“—and then there are those so obsessed with their imagined position they lose sight of what makes you, well, a nice person,” Rarity finished, her words sounding lame and simple to her own ears. Still, they brought the smile back to Pinkie’s face, and that made it worth it.
“I don’t know about that, I’m just happy you’re happy,” Pinkie beamed.
“Darling, I said I’m not mad. I’m far from happy,” Rarity huffed. Slowly she brought them to a halt. The road was dark in front of them, and they were leaving the safe confines of Ponyville. Ahead, only the black of night loomed; it was impossible to tell if there were lamps ahead and if they were simply unlit. She couldn’t ever remember heading out of town down this road.
“Is it something else I did?” Pinkie asked, simple as that.
“Heavens no,” Rarity said, glancing over at her. “When did you become so self-conscious? I blame those witless rubes more than anything, I’m simply annoyed that we didn’t get to enjoy our meal. I wanted to say thank you, and this rather soured the whole deal.”
“Oh,” Pinkie piped, staring into the darkness with her. Rarity shuddered as another gust of wind swept over them, the cold decidedly biting, now.
“My turn then!” Pinkie declared.
“We’re taking turns, now?”
“Sure! It’s only fair that I get a chance to do something nice to make it up to you that you making up to me for making me a dress didn’t go so well!” Pinkie said, grinning for exactly two seconds before pursing her lips. “That makes sense, right?”
“Not in the slightest, but I’m curious now,” Rarity laughed. “Very well. What do you have in mind?”
“Oh no, no, that’s a secret,” Pinkie said, beaming and leaning over to touch her snout to Rarity’s. “I’ll take you next Monday. Don’t forget Fluttershy’s party tomorrow!”
“Secret, is it?” Rarity asked, turning on the spot and beginning her journey home. Pinkie bounced after her, grinning ear to ear.
Sugarcube Corner was alive with sounds, smells, and even song. Rarity perked an ear as she trotted down the road, Pinkie Pie’s voice barely louder than her own hooves on the cobblestones as it drifted out from the windows of the confectionary. The minute the evening began to settle over Ponyville, its premiere party pony began her efforts to keep the darkness and the chill at bay. In this case, those efforts involved a song about a huge muffin. Rarity shook her head, smiling to herself while pushing the front door open—only to be greeted by a cacophony of colors.
“I see she’s outdone herself. Again. Like with every time,” Rarity murmured, pausing just past the threshold to take in the assorted banners, balloons, and the general décor of the main floor.
Of course, it wasn’t ever quite that simple. She’d done decorations for events herself, and while Pinkie Pie’s style—if one could call it that—was unique, Rarity doubted she herself could make ponies feel both welcome and happy with barely-matching cloth in the same manner. Rarity pursed her lips as she cast her eyes around the rafters searching for any symmetry and failing to find it. Red, purple, blue, yellow, pink and more, cloth and streamers in every size and shape.
“Are you okay?”
Rarity shook her head briskly, yanked back to the present to face a rather concerned-looking Twilight Sparkle. The purple unicorn levitated a glass of red punch at her side, and over her shoulder, Rarity could see Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash giving her odd looks.
“Ah. Yes, I was simply—well, never mind. The party is here, then? Are the Cakes away?” Rarity replied, clearing her throat.
“They went to Manehatten for the weekend. Pinkie Pie said we were okay to use the whole place so long as we clean up after ourselves,” Twilight affirmed, smiling. “You’re the last to arrive.”
“Yes, I expect Applejack and Pinkie Pie are in the kitchen?” Rarity asked, dragging Twilight along with her to the snack table while waving her hellos to Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash over by the windows.
“They were talking about trying to bake something warm to go with the cocoa later. Pinkie Pie is going to light the fireplace. It’s going to be very cozy, I’ll bet,” Twilight said, clopping her hooves together.
“Pinkie Pie and fire,” Rainbow Dash cackled. “Yeah, that’s what I think about when somepony says ‘a party for Fluttershy’”
“Oh come now,” Rarity said, rolling her eyes before settling on a smile for Fluttershy as she closed the distance to offer her a brief hug. “All the same, ah, congratulations.”
Fluttershy giggled. “It’s just an excuse for her to throw another party, you know. I’m sure you said congratulations when I got it the first time.”
“Hey, you won’t hear me complaining. If there’s a better way to spend an evening than with you guys, I don’t know about it,” Dash shrugged.
“Do you need any help in the kitchen?” Twilight called, but as soon as the words had left her mouth, the door to the kitchen swung open, admitting a flour-covered Pinkie Pie and Applejack wearing a chef’s hat.
“Nopey-dopey, but thanks!” Pinkie chirped.
“Pies and muffins’re all in the oven,” Applejack added, swapping her chef’s hat for her stetson off the counter.
“Oh! Everypony’s here!” Pinkie Pie declared, doing a little bounce. “Let’s get this party started!”
In most respects, it was a party like the rest of the parties that were thinly-veiled excuses to get all the friends together for an evening of good food, better entertainment, and the best of friends; a rousing success. Granted, Rarity questioned Pinkie’s decision to have the theme of the party shown through baking rat-shaped cookies and coloring the punch “medical blood red”. Fluttershy, in particular, seemed perfectly content to instead fetch water from the kitchen when she was thirsty.
And then, it was so very un-like most parties in many other ways. For a change, it wasn’t due to a surprise visit from the Ponyville Fire Department. No, these little get-togethers always delighted and entertained Rarity, but this time, she found herself watching Pinkie Pie. While Rarity paused for a moment to observe rather than simply drink in the delightful atmosphere, she became keenly aware of the pink pony’s efforts.
Pinkie Pie wove between them all with an odd, whimsical grace. Whenever there was a laugh to be shared, she laughed with them, and when Twilight had drained her glass of punch, it was full again within a second. Not once did she stop and try to become the center of attention, and rarely did she start a story. It was everypony elses’ night but hers, it seemed, and the pink mare seemed so very content with exactly that; if she ever seized the limelight, it was only to get things started before slipping off to let somepony else take center stage.
On impulse, Rarity detached herself from the snack table and the steadily diminishing punch bowl, sauntering over to where Applejack and Pinkie Pie stood, the pair of ponies animatedly talking and giggling. When Rarity drew near, Applejack glanced quickly over at Pinkie Pie, then offered Rarity a broad smile, dipping her head before moving off towards the other ponies by the gramophone.
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Rarity said, watching Applejack’s back as the earth mare left the two of them alone, making for Fluttershy, Twilight and Rainbow.
“Aw, that’s okay!” Pinkie said. “We were just done talking about pies and bakery and things. Fresh muffins in a few minutes! Are you having fun? Are you as excited about the blueberry crumblers and the chocolate-vanilla triple fudge muffins as I am?”
“Darling, I don’t think anypony can quite work up as much excitement for any type of baked good as you can,” Rarity commented with a giggle.
“When you say it like that, you make it sound like something nice,” Pinkie said, smiling back.
“And it is,” Rarity assured her, licking her lips. For a moment, she floundered, grasping for something to say, and the next moment she wondered exactly when it had begun mattering that she had nothing to say. The unicorn cleared her throat while Pinkie waited.
“Now, about this plan of yours. The place you planned on taking me,” Rarity finally managed.
“Nuh-uh!” Pinkie giggled. “That would be telling, and I said it was a secret! I don’t tell secrets, even when they’re my secrets to tell. Well, until I’m supposed to. But that’s Monday, not today. Now come on, let’s join the games!”
Rarity remained still for just a moment before she followed, finding that now, more than ever, she was curious and excited. It wasn’t the frustrating curiosity of something unseen dangling out of reach, but rather, the delightful trepidation of something else she couldn’t quite name. She laughed, played, ate and drank with the others, but all the while she kept watching Pinkie Pie out of the corner of her eye. A pink shadow who moved with them. Only when they all moved upstairs to curl up around the fireplace with blankets, cocoa and fresh-made muffins did Pinkie slow down, and that was mostly because so did the others.
To a one, they were snug and comfy, swaddled in blankets in a semicircle around the fireplace. Applejack and Pinkie Pie were over by the games chest looking for some board game or other when Rainbow Dash spoke up.
“You’re being all quiet. What’s up?” the pegasus asked, shifting inside her blanket trying to work her wings free.
“I’m sorry, you must think me awfully poor company,” Rarity retorted with a pained grin. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”
“Maybe you need a break? I hear you’ve been working really hard lately,” Twilight commented over the rim of her cocoa mug.
Rarity rolled her jaw, lowering her gaze to her own untouched drink, but she smiled all the same.
“No, that’s most certainly not it,” she offered. “Please, think no more of it.”
“If you say so,” Rainbow Dash said, shrugging. “Just let me know, huh?”
“Ooh, you know what I know?” Pinkie asked, bouncing back over from the chest with Monopoly: Utopia Edition on her head. “The travelling circus is going to be lots of fun!”
“There’s a circus in town?” Rainbow Dash asked, her jaw dropping. “Why didn’t anypony tell me? Why didn’t I know that?”
“Because you don’t have an ear to the ground like I do, duh!” Pinkie giggled, flopping her own ears. “I guess it also helps that I know Tipsy who runs the thing. They’re coming by on Monday, it’ll be a riot!”
“Monday, huh?” Rarity asked, arching a brow. It was a little too convenient. Last time she’d spent a day with her, Pinkie had suffered through what some would call Rarity’s world, even if the unicorn herself wasn’t quite convinced of that fact. It was no surprise that Pinkie Pie would want to do something she considered fun the next time. If there was a circus in town, she would no doubt want to head there.
Now, with their little outing on Monday thus revealed, she found herself a little disappointed. Up until now, she hadn’t the faintest clue what to expect, and perhaps that was part of the excitement. Still, while the circus was hardly a standard pastime fare for her, she had found enjoyment in far odder things when in the company of a good friend. Rarity shrugged and lit up her horn, helping Pinkie Pie unpack the game box.
“I would like to be the hat,” she declared.
Monday rolled around with painful slowness, and passed by slower still. Rarity spent most of the day pacing the store, far too restless to do anything creative. Merely making sure she didn’t send a customer off wearing one of her tablecloths draped across their backs was an effort. An odd and silly sort of excitement had built up in her over the past day, and even the trek all the way over to Sweet Apple Acres to catch up with Applejack during her break hour could not burn off the excess energy. It was almost enough to make a mare do something physical besides aerobics, and to be cooped up in her boutique all day today had certainly not improved on matters.
Finally, the moment came to close the shop. Rarity flipped the “Open” sign around and trotted back inside, only to freeze on the spot with an entirely fresh terror on her mind.
“What in the wide world of Equestria does one wear to a circus?” Rarity asked the rows of dresses ready for sale.
“What?” Sweetie Belle squeaked in reply, the little filly pausing mid-trot on her way across the room.
“It’s a rather simple question, Sweetie, but honestly, did anypony ever sit down to make a convention on this? What is proper circus attire?” Rarity added, rolling her jaw.
“Is there a circus?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“I mean, you would think that if there was some sort of standard, I would know of it. Had I sold a hundred similar dresses, hats, or even—” she paused to shudder. “—sweatbands in preparation of this circus, well, I would have known. The natural look is usually acceptable, but—”
“Are you going to the circus?” Sweetie Belle repeated, eyes big.
“Yes! Yes, Sweetie Belle, I am going to the circus!” Rarity surrendered. “And I haven’t a clue how to go to the circus!”
“Ooh, ooh, can I come?”
Rarity paused for a second, mouth open. “Ah, I, well. I don’t think that would be appropriate.”
“That’s unfair! Why do you get to go to the circus with your friends—”
“It’s just me and Pinkie Pie! Honestly, Sweetie Belle, you can’t expect—”
“Why?”
Sweetie Belle’s whine had dropped from her voice in an instant, one of the little filly’s brows raised almost comically high. Why indeed was Pinkie bringing Rarity to the circus by herself, when the pink pony seemed to feed off all of her friends’ happiness just as much as she was fueled by pure sugar.
“That is, I, hm,” Rarity began, treading water while searching for an answer for herself more than for her sister.
“We’re going to the circus?” Pinkie Pie asked. Rarity’s heart nearly stopped when the for-once-deceptively-stealthy earth mare trotted inside the boutique. She hadn’t even heard the door open.
“That is to say—wait. We are not going to the circus?” Rarity asked, blinking. Sweetie Belle deflated an inch while Pinkie Pie merely giggled, bouncing over to bump noses with Rarity.
“Maybe later? First, I wanted to show you something, remember?” Pinkie asked. She tilted her head a good ninety degrees, giggling. “You do remember, don’t you? I was all ‘I need to repay you for repaying me for—’”
“Yes, yes, I do remember,” Rarity cut her off. “I simply assumed, what with the circus being in town and all...”
“You shouldn’t assume. That makes you look really silly!” Pinkie said. “Hi Sweetie Belle!”
“Um. Hi,” Sweetie replied, the filly’s voice full of suspicion. “Where are you guys going?”
“Still a secret!” Pinkie beamed, looking like she took pure pride in that fact. Without any further explanation, the pink mare made her way out through the still open door.
“Well,” Rarity concluded, pinning her sister with a look. “I would appreciate if the boutique still stood when I got back home. If you’re having the Crusaders over, you keep it to your room, you hear?”
At that, Sweetie brightened, snapping a sharp mock salute. Rarity followed the snippet of pink tail outside, joining with a Pinkie who had abandoned her bouncy gait in favor of a slow walk.
“Why would you think we were going to the circus?” Pinkie asked when they walked side by side. Ponies milled all around them, Ponyville’s inhabitants heading home from work or out to eat.
“Well, I thought that since you had to endure that farce of a dinner, you might want to do something you found fun, for once,” Rarity said with a shrug.
“Oh. But you just wanted us to go out to eat something, you didn’t mean for that to happen,” Pinkie retorted, perking an ear.
“When you say it like that, it almost sounds logical,” Rarity agreed, smiling.
“It’s a great idea though! We should all head to the circus sometime soon!” Pinkie declared, grinning. “I know Rainbow Dash would love to go, and Applejack, too! And when we’re four, there’s no way Fluttershy and Twilight aren’t coming along too. We are four, aren’t we? You’re coming too, right?”
“Oh, of course. Sweetie Belle would be ever so disappointed if she didn’t get to come, too, so I suppose we will have to take the three little fillies too,” Rarity nodded, though her face soon set in a frown. They hadn’t gone far, but already their surroundings were very familiar. Pinkie Pie was beelining for Sugarcube Corner.
“Did you forget something?” Rarity asked.
Pinkie gave her a quizzical look, nudging the door open whilst looking back at her.
“I just assume you forgot something at home? Is that why we are here?” Rarity clarified, but Pinkie Pie merely smiled back at her.
“Nopey!” she said, holding the door open. “This way. Oh, hi again Mr. Cake!”
Rarity reluctantly followed her confusing friend inside, offering Mr. Cake at the counter a smile and a nod before making for the stairs. Pinkie waited for her at the top of the first flight, leading the way up and up in silence. From the ground floor, past the first floor with the Cakes’ living room and bedrooms, past the second floor gallery and guest rooms, and up yet again until they stood at a small landing with an anonymous wooden door.
It reminded her a little of her own loft. Was Pinkie taking her scavenging for antiques and such? She wouldn’t put it past her to have an interest in positively archaeological endeavours like that, but at the same time, this wasn’t some dusty old attic; a lamp provided decent light, and the place was clean enough. Any further ponderings over this mystery were cut short as Pinkie opened the door without fanfare, a practiced nudge revealing the next room.
It was a bedroom; a simple bedchamber a fair bit smaller than her own. Pinkie wasted no time in trotting inside, and Rarity followed on a combination of sheer automatics and curiosity. A large, comfortable-looking bed buried in pillows dominated the far wall, and a single small window was set above.
The rest was equally mundane. A muted pink cabinet stood ajar, nearly bursting with clothes, and a set of drawers stood nearby, atop which rested a large rock. Aside from the arguably-decorative rock, the only other adornments were two pictures on the nightstand. Rarity recognized one as the same picture of the group of friends that all six of them had, a memory from not long after Twilight had come to Ponyville.
It was obvious, in hindsight, but still Rarity couldn’t hold back her surprise as she spoke up.
“This is... your room?” Rarity asked.
“Yep!” Pinkie replied. “And that’s my Stonard the pet rock. I’m watching him for my sisters,” she added, indicating the faintly glittering rock before hopping onto her bed. “Come on!”
Rarity blinked, pausing in the middle of the room with her ears perked up. Pinkie Pie tossed pillows aside until the bed was pillow-free and bit onto the blanket, holding it up.
“Pardon?”
Pinkie tilted her head. “Pardon who for what?”
“I’m not quite sure what you are asking me to do, that’s all,” Rarity retorted, clearing her throat and rubbing one foreleg with the other as she glanced about. No sooner had she finished her sentence than she felt a set of hooves grab on to her and whisk her away. Rarity cried out in protest, but within seconds, darting out like some pink trapdoor spider, Pinkie dragged, poked and prodded her onto her bed and pulled the blanket over them.
“Pinkie Pie, what exactly is the meaning—”
“Shh,” Pinkie said, an utterance Rarity scarcely had believed her friend capable of ever making.
Rarity gave her friend a mighty frown, twisting around to protest, but Pinkie wasn’t even looking at her. Pinkie lay completely still on her back, looking up at the blanket—the ceiling of their tiny, soft world. Light was filtering through the shockingly pink blanket, but that was all there was to see. Despite this, Pinkie was smiling, a mellow and calm smile that seemed oddly out of place on her even if she was the first one to grin or laugh. When she spoke, she sounded almost sedated, the usual tumble of words slowed down a smidgen.
“Sometimes it’s all so much,” Pinkie said. “It’s great, but it’s so much.”
Rarity deflated, shoving her protests at the pony-handling aside for a moment, instead propping her head up on a leg where she lay. “You’re going to have to be a little more specific, dear. What is?”
“Everything,” Pinkie said. “I heard you talking to Rainbow Dash about taking a break. I was going to take you to Brain Freeze’s ice cream bar, but then I thought, hey, I have a better idea! Let’s take a break,” she said with a quiet little giggle.
“Usually, I just take a bath. Hot water and cold fizzy cider, perhaps a good book,” Rarity murmured, reaching out with her free leg to poke at the blanket seeking a way out.
“I get distracted when I try that. I love taking baths, but there’s so much there, too. So much... everything. There’s always ponies or Gummy, sounds or smells or things to see. Even just some really neat wallpaper or some pretty paint, that can be so huge, sometimes.” Pinkie prodded the curly bangs of her own mane as she spoke, casting a glance over at Rarity. The pink mare’s smile slipped for a second, her voice perking up in contrast. “We can probably go get ice cream sundaes if you want to though!”
Rarity stayed her hoof, pausing her excavation efforts.
She was in Pinkie Pie’s room. Though she wasn’t quite as close with her as Rainbow Dash was, at least not until recently, she had to wonder how many ponies had ever been here. How many had bothered to ask themselves what Pinkie Pie did when she wasn’t putting on a show, a party or a play of some sort? She had a beautiful heart, and Rarity’s cheeks prickled ever so slightly as she let herself think so; it was impossible to tell what Pinkie Pie had meant by sharing this, whether it was a gesture of closeness or whimsy, but she wasn’t about to squander it.
“No,” Rarity said, shifting a bit until she, too, lay on her back. The room wasn’t especially hot, but she felt pleasantly warm all the same. “No, this is fine, but next time, I insist on getting us some proper food, though I suspect most of Ponyville’s restaurants feel slighted by me at the moment,” she added, sure she spotted a ghost of a wider smile in the corner of her eye.
“You don’t have to thank me for thanking you for, um, oh wowsie. I lost track,” Pinkie giggled.
“Yes, we do seem to be stuck in a bit of a pattern,” Rarity murmured. The words hung in the air between them for either to comment on, to protest or poke holes in, but for the longest time, neither of them spoke. Outside of the blanket waited a deceptively simple room, but in here, Rarity had Pinkie with her; enough life to fill all of Canterlot with laughter. Leaving was the furthest thing from her mind.
“Now, this isn’t a goodbye,” Rarity said. “Because I’m afraid you’ll have to chase me out of here when you want me gone, but are you busy tomorrow? And do you like pasta salad with, say, feta cheese?”
“Alright, now where’s the feta?” Rarity asked, boring a hole in her cheek with her tongue as she scanned the fridge. Carrots, celery, and absolutely everything a pony could want—except the jar of feta cheese she was sure she’d seen. In fact, she had checked twice yesterday, and when she found she couldn’t sleep, she’d triple-checked to make sure she had everything.
“You put it on the bench two minutes ago,” Sweetie Belle replied. The little filly sat on the floor watching Rarity busy herself around the kitchen.
“Oh,” Rarity said, eyeing the conspicuously present jar. “Well. If you’re going to be all snarky and such, why don’t you help me here instead? We need to cook—”
The doorbell rang. Rarity groaned and closed her eyes. “Actually, be a dear and go see who that is. And tell them that we closed an hour ago!” she added a little louder as her sister bolted out of the kitchen.
The table was set, three plates in perfect symmetry around the small dinner table. One for Sweetie Belle, one for herself, and one for Pinkie Pie. That had been the easy part. The particular salad she’d chosen was, sadly, a little more complicated than her usual fare. Rarity stared at the ingredients for the Clopenhagen style pasta salad, ruminating that she’d gotten no further than washing the lettuce before spending ten minutes contemplating how she’d make it look exactly like the picture in her cookbook.
“Ooh, smells delicious!” Pinkie Pie commented.
Rarity whipped around to find Pinkie Pie standing in the kitchen doorway, Sweetie Belle slipping in after her. The earth mare was smiling as she sniffed the air. More notably, she was dressed up, wearing one very specific dress. White and pink silk in dominance, bordered by yellow and blue, and as much as she took pride in her own hoofwork, Rarity found that it was entirely secondary to the pure contentment of seeing Pinkie wear something she’d made. With her customers, she found the satisfaction of a job well done, of fabulosity imparted. Here, there was an indeterminable something else that tickled the back of her mind just so.
“You’re early,” was all Rarity said on the subject, though she smiled still. “And I should think it smells nothing, I have barely started.”
“I guess you’re just that good!” Pinkie retorted, giggling as she trotted closer. “Or maybe it’s you?”
“I am a terrible cook, I am sad to say,” Rarity murmured, accepting a brief hug around the neck that left a lingering warmth. “Almost as terrible as you are at flattery.”
“Well, then I just have to help you! I’m best at things with sugar in them, but I’m sure we can figure a little pasta out. Worst case scenario, your kitchen catches fire and I get to see Long Hose and all the other ponies at the fire department again!” Pinkie declared. “Where do you have the spoons?”
Rarity frowned and looked for any indication that Pinkie had made a joke, eventually settling for a shrug. “Well, I’d be glad for the help, but—ah, are you going to be making food in that dress?”
“Sure!” Pinkie said, tilting her head. “Is that a problem?”
“No, hm. I suppose it is washable,” Rarity agreed, finding that she very much did not want to be the cause of Pinkie Pie changing out of it.
“Oh ew, the recipe has garlic!” Pinkie said, her face scrunched up as she stared at the pages of the cookbook Rarity had spread out on the long kitchen bench. “I really really don’t like garlic. It tastes like sweaty flank!”
“Well, it’s the Clopenhagen style—” Rarity began, her brow furrowed at the use of language. She cast an automatic glance at Sweetie Belle.
“How about peaches instead?” Pinkie suggested, prancing over to the refrigerator. “Do you have any peaches?”
“I do,” Rarity said, leaning around the fridge door to look alongside Pinkie Pie. “If my memory serves correct, we could add olives and remove the grapes. That should make for a Manehatten variant, ah, what’s it called—”
“Aw no, no way, I love grapes!” Pinkie complained, diving into the fridge until Rarity half-feared even her tail would disappear. A moment later, she surfaced with a trio of peaches on her head and a glass of black olives in her mouth. “Lefh’ do bof’!”
“But we have to follow the recipe,” Rarity protested. Pinkie Pie danced around her, depositing the ingredients on the bench before rummaging around the other cupboards.
“Says who?” Pinkie asked. “Where do you have the kettles?”
“Says the recipe!” Rarity claimed.
“By the oven,” Sweetie Belle interjected, the little filly watching them with a huge smile on her face. Pinkie Pie hopped around to land facing her.
“More help! Why don’t you cut all the grapes in half, can you do that for me?” Pinkie asked.
“Okay!” Sweetie replied, setting to her task with a grin of delight, the words “Cutie Mark Crusaders pasta maker” whispered under her breath.
“Recipe?” Pinkie asked while filling a kettle with water. “You should help me with the pasta instead!”
“Thank you for dinner,” Sweetie Belle said, licking her lips contentedly. After a quick glance over at her sister, the grabbed her napkin from the table and wiped her muzzle, earning a smile.
“And thank you for helping make it!” Pinkie declared, reaching over to grab her in a hug and give her a gentle noogie. Sweetie Belle giggled and scampered off, leaving Rarity and Pinkie Pie alone in the kitchen, and silence settled shortly after.
Rarity stared at the last mouthful of pasta on her platter, easing her fork down to the table. Decorum demanded she leave it, and so she did, letting her eyes wander instead. The kitchen was a mess, and so was Pinkie Pie’s dress. The dress that Rarity had made for her. The more she thought on it, the more she wondered if she didn’t appreciate her wearing it because it let her believe Pinkie Pie was hers, too.
“You gonna eat that?” Pinkie asked.
“No, please, go ahead,” Rarity replied, leaning back as Pinkie’s head snapped forward to gobble up the last of the food on table, chewing noisily. After she’d swallowed, Pinkie paused, glanced at Rarity, and wiped her muzzle with the napkin at her plate’s side. They both shared a brief giggle that petered out into nothingness, the room bathed in fading sunlight and the pleasant afterglow of a good meal.
“Thanks for the food. It was delicious!” Pinkie declared, though she made no move. Rarity remained quite still herself, reluctant to let the moment end.
“Oh that’s nonsense, this was more your doing than mine, so I can only say as my sister; thank you for dinner.”
“Aw, thanks and you’re welcome!” Pinkie chirped, scratching at her chest. “Did you like it?” she added, a little more quiet.
“That would be an understatement,” Rarity hummed. “I honestly had my mind set on that one salad, but this was far better than anything any recipe could have offered.”
“Recipies are silly sometimes,” Pinkie said, smiling brightly. “They’re just suggestions. If you think they’re what you’re after, that’s super-fantastic, but sometimes they’re not what you want after all.”
Rarity took a deep breath and slowly released it. “Don’t I know that,” she murmured, once again remembering the grand galloping gala. The shadow of an unimportant white unicorn was fading still; proof of how expectations could sometimes lead one astray.
In its stead, something else had grown. Months of frustrations and over a year of annoyance had been wiped away by a set of far more pleasant moments. Events and evenings that were already well underway to becoming treasured memories, all given one single common trait. All linked by the presence of a single pony. Part of Rarity wanted to ask Pinkie what she was doing next week, to ensure that there would be more of these days.
Pinkie wasn’t going anywhere, yet Rarity found herself unsettled by the idea that she should ever go without her. There was no denying it. She looked across the table, and her breath came a little faster.
Pinkie Pie was looking back at her, smiling, and it was all Rarity could think that Pinkie must’ve had something in the food. Some of her energy. Some of her impulsiveness must have snuck into the pasta, and it made Rarity speak.
“Pinkie Pie?” she heard herself say. “We’ve spent quite a lot of time together lately. We’ve, ah, ‘hung out’ a lot, as you would say.”
“I would totally say exactly that. Oh wow, you’re good at me!” Pinkie agreed.
“Please don’t think less of me if this is unwelcome, but what would you say if I asked you out?” Rarity’s voice continued, the unicorn scarcely daring to breathe.
Pinkie stuck her tongue out of the side of her mouth and furrowed her brow, but the silence lasted no more than a second or two before she broke out into a high-pitched laughter, a giggle rolling forth to go on and on. When finally her mirth was spent, her big blue eyes shone with wet.
“Like a date?” she asked between chortles, grinning widely.
Rarity felt her face flush and cleared her throat, the laughter still echoing in her head. She got up, her throat suddenly dry. “Yes, that was my intent. Maybe I’ve made a mistake—”
“I thought we’d been dating for weeks now!” Pinkie said, smiling still as she leaned forward to prop her head up on the table with a foreleg.
Rarity’s jaw hung slack and her heart raced, but all the while, Pinkie Pie did not move so much as an inch.
And then, sometimes, things fell into place by themselves, heedless of expectations. Sometimes, a pattern came into being of its own. Rarity bit her lower lip as every event of the past weeks crept by, and she found that even if she could protest, she had no desire to do so.
“I suppose, if you, ah. That isn’t a no, I understand?” she asked.
Pinkie Pie leaned across the table, locking their muzzles in a kiss.
The fabric lay draped over the mannequin, a rough square of coarse fabric with an ice cream stain marking one of the corners. The color wasn’t quite the one she preferred to match her own mane and coat, but Pinkie Pie had picked the fabric and the color both, even insisting that she be the one to carry it home from the store. Rarity smiled as she trimmed the corner. It was most certainly not her type.
And it would make for one fabulous dress.
Under her guidance, the cloth came alive. She levitated over the bolt from which the square had been cut, marking the pattern for a simple hood to go with the cloak she suddenly realized she was making. Her smile became a full-fledged grin as her horn glowed brighter still, the work so natural to her now that she let her eyes roam.
Outside the studio windows, numerous pegasi bustled to and fro, gradually carpeting the sky in a dense layer of clouds made pearly white by the sun’s glare. Tonight was the night of the first snowfall, and with Rainbow Dash taking the day off, many wings were called to the air to help in her stead. The sky above Ponyville was almost as busy as the inside of Carousel Boutique.
“Okay, okay, I’ve been thinking, and I think I got it now,” Pinkie said, trotting inside the studio wearing an expression of intense concentration. She snatched a roll of coarse fabric in her mouth, swiftly draping it around her midsection and rearing up on her hindlegs. “Body scarf thinger!” she declared. “It keeps your tummy warm while leaving your tail free for twitching and your everything else free for bouncing!”
Rarity stifled a giggle while she lay the finishing touches on her newest work. It’d been going on like this for the better part of an hour now, her studio littered with half-completed creations, everything from tail mufflers to snout hats.
“Darling, I keep trying to tell you, it’s not like baking. You can’t invent a whole new type of clothing just like that,” she commented, levitating over to Pinkie Pie a bundle of woolen garments she’d completed minutes prior. “There. Those should keep you warm. Blue hat and scarf for you, and a simple lavender cloak for myself. I think we’re about ready to head to the circus in style.”
“Aw,” Pinkie pouted, putting on her hat and scarf while Rarity fastened the clasp of her hooded cloak. “I was sure I had it this time,” the earth mare commented, leading the way into the main room.
Rarity pulled up her hood, shrugging so it’d lie right. As much as she’d like to take credit for the cloak being comfortable, for being just right, she knew the truth was a different one. It was perfect, and it was no thanks to something so mundane as her sewing or her fashion sense.
Holding the door open for Pinkie, Rarity grinned. “Granted, I won’t say never. I know better. It’s simply very unlikely. Now let’s hurry along; the others are probably waiting.”
Pinkie brightened and nuzzled Rarity in passing, slipping out onto the chilly streets of Ponyville and setting off in a contented bounce with Rarity in tow. Just down the road, near the village’s center, they could barely spot Rainbow Dash hovering above the buildings.
“I guess we are a little bit late already,” Rarity murmured.
“That’s okay,” Pinkie giggled. “The circus isn’t going anywhere. Or, well, it kinda is, but we’ve got plenty of time to make the four o’ clock performance. Sweetie Belle and the Crusaders are with Fluttershy, aren’t they?”
“Yes, that was the plan,” Rarity affirmed, pursing her lips and pulling her cloak a little tighter around her body. “I just dislike being late for things like this. You can’t exactly be fashionably late for a show that starts at a certain time. I know it’s a short walk, but I simply will not stand for either us being cold,” she concluded, satisfied with her reasoning.
“I know. I wasn’t complaining,” Pinkie offered, grinning wide. “I had fun, and you know I love you.”
“Pardon?” Rarity asked, slowing down. Her legs threatened to lock up, and her heart skipped a beat.
“I wasn’t complaining!” Pinkie repeated turning to face her.
“And the other words?”
“I love you?” Pinkie said, this time a question. Rarity scarcely dared to breathe. “Um, is that a problem?” Pinkie asked, blinking rapidly.
“No, no, not at all,” Rarity murmured, forcing herself to keep moving. “I’ve just... spent far too long considering what those words would feel like. Dreaming. Imagining,” she admitted, furrowing her brow.
It was no earth-shattering declaration. Instead of her heart throbbing and tears flowing, Rarity felt a warmth settle over her, a quiet peace infinitely more beautiful and appealing than any more dramatic truth. Pinkie Pie was casting her ever-more rapid and worried little glances.
“It kinda sounds bad,” the pink mare commented, her ears threatening to droop.
“Not even a little bit. I love you too,” Rarity instantly replied, finding that giving the words was every bit as pleasant as receiving them. She angled herself a little closer to Pinkie Pie, leaning against her as they moved. Ahead, now, they could see all their friends waiting for them; Rainbow Dash pointed, and the other ponies waved and broke off their conversations, moving to meet them.
“If you thought it’d feel different, maybe we can try again?” Pinkie asked.
“Try again?” Rarity retorted, brow arched.
“Mhm!” Pinkie intoned. “We should get some cocoa and watch the snowfall tonight after the circus. I’ll bake some cupcakes, and I’ll tell you that I love you again!”
Rarity glanced over Pinkie Pie, the mare who had gradually become so very much more than a friend. It was hardly the recipe for love that she had set for herself years ago, and the suggestion was patently absurd, silly in the extreme.
And she couldn’t imagine anything she wanted more.
“That sounds absolutely lovely,” Rarity replied, rubbing her cheek against the giggling Pinkie Pie’s neck.
A/N stands for "Author's Notes", by the way. Hi, hi, hello, and thank you for reading! If this is the first fic of mine you read, then welcome to the shipyard! If it isn't, well, hi again, and I'm sorry to say I don't have a ton of interesting stuff to blather on about this time around.
Like I ever did, pshaw.
I would like to say thank you, though, to Kits, to Corma, to TAW and to Couch Crusader all for their help in editing, poking, opining and everythinging this fic until it's the best it can be.
I also want to extend my thanks to Kits again for the (tremendously awesome) cover art! I absolutely adore it, and having friends who are willing to do such things at the expense of their own time and sweat is amazing. Thank you.
I'll probably blab on about the writing process in a journal, but I will say this: thank you for taking the time to read this far, and if you enjoyed it, I would love to hear what you think! I try to reply to most of the comments, and if you mail me at cloudyskieswrites@gmail.com , I reply to every mail, too. I'm sociable, I promise!
