Icebergs

by shortskirtsandexplosions

Rating: teen
Tags: Mrs. Cake, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Spike, Comedy, Romance, Derpy Hooves, Slice of Life, Main 6
Length: 24323

A pony loves a pony who likes a pony who loves a pony who loves another pony who also loves a pony.

When one pony loves another pony, but that pony is smitten with another pony, and yet that pony is enamored with yet another pony, who's head over heels for a different pony, who can't wait to express her feelings to her own favorite pony, who worships the earth that the first pony walks on, then what is the pony to say to the other pony that is different from what the pony wishes to confess to the other pony who is longing after another pony who can't wait to share hooves with another pony who is infatuated with another pony who is too flustered to say anything to the first pony to begin with? Can the pony who loves a pony who loves another pony who loves yet another pony who has a crush on a different pony who can't stop thinking about the first pony still all be friends?

Published 2012-09-01 01:44:01 UTC
Last updated 2012-09-01 01:44:01 UTC

That boring errand that Twilight made me do

What is it about summer that brings out the purple in my scales? I don't remember sweating this much last July. Aren't I only supposed to feel hot if—like—I fall into a volcano crater or something? I mean, I imagine most dragons don't perspire as much as I do. Maybe it's an age thing; everypony keeps telling me that I'm still a "baby." Feh. Whatever.

I'd ask Twilight, but she claims that she doesn't know much about dragons. Maybe I can talk her into a research project about them or something. I know how much she likes those random, boring study sessions. I'll be sure to mention it to her, right after I talk her into practicing the new beard spell again. I heard Rarity saying something about how nice Sean Cantery looked with facial hair. Heh, I know I've been down this road before, but it wouldn't hurt to try again, right?

Oh, hey. Sugarcube Corner. Uhhhh... What was I coming here for again? Oh yeah! Twilight wants me to reserve a seat for her and the girls tonight. Duh! I swear, if my head wasn't attached to my body, it'd go wherever my wings went.

The bell above has a nice ring to it as I walk in through the front door. Boy, it sounds just like a tuning fork clanking against an aged fire diamond. Mmmmm... Yeah. There really aren't enough gemstone stores around here. Would it really kill somepony like Bon Bon or Ms. Cake to open up a "Stonecube Corner?"

Oh, hey, speak of the devil. "Hi there, Ms. Cake!" I say, waving my arm.

"Ohhh, why hello there!" She grins from behind the counter and sets down a big, white, marble cake with several stacks of frosting. "Well, if it isn't Ponyville's handsomest dragon whelp!"

Don't stare at her huge dimples. Don't stare at her huge dimples. Don't stare at her huge dimples.

"Ahem, so, uh..." I lean up against the counter. "Twilight Sparkle sent me to ask if there were any available seats for reservation late this evening."

"Hmm, I don't think any patrons have made plans!" With a pleasant smile, the mare grabs a notepad off a nearby baking counter and prepares to write with a pen planted between her teeth. "Mmmf—Plenty of spaces between six and nine! Mmmf..."

Wow. I can't get over just how much it'd stink to have to write with your mouth all the time. Twilight sure is lucky. Heh, guess I am too. Heheh.

"Uhm..." When did Twilight want it? Oh right. "How about eight o'clock? Is that too late for the girls to have their get together?"

"Not at all! Mister Cake and I will be here after-hours baking for a wedding shower tomorrow morning anyways!" She pauses to scribble across the notepad before marking something on the day's calendar. "Aaaaaand there! Eight o'clock it is! Tell Twilight that she and her friends can stay and gab as long as they like! Heheheh... I do know how much they love to do that."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Will a certain gentlecoltish dragon be showing up as well?"

"Ew, no..." I once made the mistake of showing up at one of Twilight's Sugarcube Corner get togethers. Somewhere in between topics of fashion, the local gossip, and official business for the Princess, I had fallen asleep. The only cool thing about it was that Rarity was there, and even then she hardly gave me the light of day. I don't blame her, really. If only Twilight would just give me that beard. Hmmm—Oh. Ms. Cake is staring at me. Uhm... "Girl's night out is hardly my thing!" I say. "I'd much rather sit around at the library and count my... uh... hoard."

"Oh? A dragon your age has a hoard?"

"Erm..." Yeesh. Why are my cheeks burning? Do dragons blush as much as they perspire? So many questions to ask Twilight, and she'll probably be too busy re-inventing the wheel. Ah well, I can deal. "It's just a small hoard. Mostly a bunch of bottlecaps."

"Bottlecaps? Heehee... How delightfully curious..."

"It started when Twilight and I lived in Canterlot." I feel myself smile. "You wouldn't believe how much the guards litter when they're off duty! Who knew armored pegasi could chug down that much sarasparilla?!"

"Ooooh! Now that you mention containers, that reminds me!"

Uh oh. She's ducking behind the counter. Ms. Cake is gonna ask me to run an errand, isn't she? Ugh, and here I thought I could go fishing in the pond outside Evergree. I swear, one of these days I should just say "no."

She reappears with several aluminum pans and stacks them atop the glass counter between us. "Since you're going out and about, could you be a dear and deliver these to Granny Smith at Sweet Apple Acres?"

Yup. Called it.

"We had a huge shipment of cherries arrive a week ago," Ms. Cake continues. "And the Apple family lent us several of their harvest baskets to store them. Just the other day, Applejack told me that her grandmother is planning on baking several apple pies, and I thought it was only fitting I paid her back for her favor!"

"Uhhhhh..." All I wanna do right now is cast a line into the pond water and take a nap under the afternoon sunset. "Sure thing, Ms. Cake! You need me to take all of these?"

"Erm, yes, dearie." Her blue face scrunches up, as if she's sorry for asking me, or trying to feel sorry about it. I see a brief reflection of pink in the nearest pan as I reach for them. "I know it's an awful lot to ask of you. But I'm absolutely nailed to the kitchen floor here with all these baking tasks and I don't know any other way to get these to Sweet Apple Acres—"

There is suddenly a bright, fluffy thing sliding up and bouncing beside me. "Oooh! Oooh! A delivery to Applejack?! Let me! Let me! Me me me me!"

"Gaaaah!" Jeez! I'm falling back. The pans are flying everywhere. With a whip of her fluffy tail, Pinkie Pie somehow catches all of them before they hit the floor. Holy guacamole, just where the heck did she come from? "Where the heck did you come from?"

"Whoops! Sorry, Spike!" Pinkie Pie giggles. She juggles the pans as if they're made out of her own laughter and balances them with crazy finesse on her forehead. Heheh. Show off. "I just heard that Ms. Cake needs a delivery made to Sweet Apple Acres and I was like 'Coolies! I can totally get that donesies!'"

"P-Pinkie!" Ms. Cake tries to hide the sweat running down her temple. She fails. Well, at least I notice. I'm not sure about Pinkie. "I thought you were off to the skating rink!"

"Nah, it burnt down." Pinkie turns towards me with her bright, childish grin. "Mind if I take over your little job for you? It's been ages since I've been to Sweet Apple Acres and I'd love to see how the whole family is doing!"

"Hey... Uhhh... Be my guest!" Whew. Score. Maybe I'll get to catch a big fish after all. Who ever said that Pinkie Pie was annoying? I know I didn't. "Think you can carry them all on your own?"

"Abso-dutely-lutely!" Pinkie spun them one at a time on her nose while winking. "I never met a pan I couldn't handle! Heehee! Get it?"

"Uhhh... Sure, Pinkie."

"Ooooh! You came here to set up the get together tonight, didn't you?"

"Yup. Twilight made me."

"Aren't you gonna come?! Huh?! Huh?! Applejack says she's bringing some of Granny Smith's delicious apple pies and then Twilight's gonna teach us all about Canterlot cooking recipes with these books she got from the Princess!"

"Er... Apple pie sounds wonderful, but I've had my fair share of Canterlot cooking." Ohhhhh, all those late nights of stomach aches and moaning. "Twilight used to make me oats casserole all the time." It tasted like cardboard. "It was okay. But... uhh... if you don't mind, I think I'm gonna sit this one out. I hope you girls totally have fun, though!"

"Awwwww. Tell you what, Spike, we'll save some apple pie just for you!"

"Hey, that sounds great, Pinkie! Thanks for being so considerate—"

"UhuhOkayGottaGoByeSpike!" All I see is a pink blur, for she's just zoomed off, leaving the bell above the door rattling like crazy.

"That's strange..." Ms. Pie says, scratching her brow beneath her mane. "Why's she in such a big hurry all of the sudden?"

I shrug. "Beats me." Boy, mares are so weird...

That super terrific farm filly with scrumptious freckles!

Oh boy oh boy boy! I'm going to go visit Sweet Apple Acres! I swear, it's been so long since I was there last! All of those cute little dirt roads that feel all warm and toasty under my hoofsies! And then the glistening, golden delicious apples! And the cows and the chickens and the piggies and—heeheehee—whoops! Careful, Pinkie: better not be a clumsy klutzaroo with the pie panaroos! Heehee! Oh sweet jumping jam crackers, it's such a beautiful day! I can't remember when the afternoon sun was this bright! Summer is like a huge, happy explosion that doesn't know when to quit! I swear, I could toast marshmallows to this sky! Mmmmm... Marshmallows...

Hey, a blue jay. Coooool. There've been an awful lot of them in Ponyville since spring. I wonder if there're ever any "black jays" or "green jays" or "red jays?" There's enough sky to fill it with rainbows, so why not birds? They deserve all the colors they want too! Especially the ones that sing! Heehee...

Where was I going again...?

Oh right! Sweet Apple Acres! OhmigoshOmigoshOmigosh! I can't wait! I'm glad I can be helping out by delivering these pie pans! I don't wanna seem like a nosy-no-gooder by showing up uninvited. But I just can't help myself at times! There are so many things to see and do at that farm! So many animals to make noises to! So many ways to get exercise! And of couse there's always—

Oh? Ohhhh? Yes! Heehee! There she is! Just beyond the fence, about two lines of orchards away! Heeeee! Wow, has she been working all afternoon? Heehee! Look at her, she's sweatier than a hoofball player after practice! Hiya, Applejack! How are you doing this super-duper teriffic afte—oh, wait. Ooops.

"Hiya, Applejack!" I chirp outloud. Pans rattle behind me as I bounce, bounce, bounce towards her. "How are you doing this super-duper terrific afternoon!?"

"Howdy there, Pinkie." Heeheehee! Oh gosh, that drawl. It's the drawliest of drawly drawls! "Gettin' a heapin' load of work done, I reckon. Whatcha got there?"

"Guess what Ms. Cake decided to lend you!" Her bright green eyes fade to black, along with the world around her. I must be smiling really, really hard. Sometimes I go blind when I'm feeling really god. It makes me think of these silly warnings my mother always gave me. "Come on, guess!" I bounce and bounce and bounce.

"Uhhhh... Pans," Applejack says in a droning voice. Is she out of breath? Oh goodness, I didn't catch her in a bad mood, did I? "I see you got a bunch of pans there. Uhhh... Pie pans?" My vision returns, and something explodes inside me to see her smiling, smiling brightly. "Oh! Are them things for Granny? Shucks, she's been needin' more containers somethin' awful! Great timin', Pinkie. I swear, she's fixin' to make so many of them pies that all of Ponyville will be burstin' through their saddlebags overnight!"

"Heeehee! I don't doubt it!" I grin her way, bouncing. "Your grandmother makes the best, most scrumptious, most delicious pies in all of Equestria!"

"Heh. Now that might be stretchin' the truth just a tad, sugarcube," Applejack says. She kicks a tree and it rains fruit all around her. She's so strong. "Still," she exhales sweatily. Golden fur glistens in the sunny sunlight from the sun. "Them's some mighty complimentary words comin' from the town's most talented baker."

I gasp. I gasp some more. And then there are some little baby gasps balanced on top of the previous gasps, like tightrope trotters. "Wow, you really mean it?!" Does she really mean it? Oh, I am so going to make her a dessert tray to end all dessert trays! Apple fritters! No. Apple dumplings! No. Apple sauce filled doughnuts! Oh wait! She lives around apples! She wouldn't want more of them! Uhhhm.... Uhhhh... "Do you like cinammon?"

"Huh?" She makes a weird face. "Well, erm, reckon I do, at least no less than the average filly. Why, did Ms. Cake send you to deliver some cinammon sticks as well?"

"I should totally bake you a batch of piping hot cinammon rolls!" Bounce bounce. "You can eat them for breakfast and then have all the energy you need to kick trees and drop apples the whole day!" Bounce bounce bounce. "And then when you're done, and it's time for the family dinner, you can have some dessert while you rest by the fireplace—!" Bounce bounce bounce—Ack! A tree root! "Whoahh!"

Applejack catches me with a single hoof before I can faceplant into the farmsoil. "Land's sakes, Pinkie! Simmer down, will ya?"

She chuckles. Her voice does that super adorable thing where it bends around almost like she's gargling water and singing a country ballad all at once. Heehee! Wow, she really is strong! And fast! Wowsies, I could let her catch me forever and ever!

"Here, allow me."

She sweeps the pie pans off my spine and balances them in the hollow of her hat. Heehee! What a talent! Why doesn't she have a hat for a cutie mark? It'd be so cute, just like her freckles. Everytime she smiles, it's like tiny white islands are floating in a sea of tangy orange juice! Hah! Apple and oranges! Ow, I think my chest is going to explode...

"Save some of yer energy for the get together tonight, why don'tcha?"

"Oooh! So you are coming to Sugarcube Corner this evening? Huh? Huh?"

"Why, of course, sugarcube!" Every time she says that happy word, I feel like there are chocolate monkeys banging a vanilla gong in my heart. The farm smells like her: full of sweet fruit, apple blossoms, and sawdust. I wanna wrap her breath around me like a blankie and snuggle through the next five winters. With a smile, she motions for me to follow her to the family farmhouse. I try not to gallop circles around her. But then she speaks again and I think my mane is gonna burst into flames. "Ya know I love chewin' the fat with y'all. It's the highlight of my week, and it's a purdy swell reward for a long day's job well done!"

"Wowwww..." I gawk at all the mounds of red fruit in the baskets lying around us. It's like a sea of cider about to explode everywhere all at once! Heehee! What a delicious deluge that would be! "You did all of this on your own?"

"Big Mac lent a hoof or two before he had to go plow the west fields," Applejack says. We pass by fences and wagons and troughs and other farmy farm stuff. "Figured it'd be proper to get most of the heavy sweatin' done early; that way I can tackle this year's Apple Buck Season without too much stress. Heh, no need for repeatin' the 'bunny rabbit incident' in town, ya reckon?"

"Heeheehee! I reckonnnnn. Wow, Applejack. You're such a terrific, hard working earth pony!" I bounce and bounce and bounce beside her. Her blonde mane is glazed with sweat. It's like Equestria's most bestest dessert has come out toasty, golden brown from the oven of the world. "All the rest of Ponyville could learn a thing or two about giving life the ol' heave ho if they just watched what you do normally!"

"Awww shoot, Pinkie." Applejack stifles a deep chortle. Suddenly those white islands are bathed in rosy lava. "Yer makin' me blush. I just do what I was taught to do. Nothin' more to it."

My teeth hurt. If I could yank them out of my mouth to make smiling easier, I would in a jiffy! Heehee. Silly Applejack. I'd make you blush all day if I could. It's almost as nice as seeing you smile. Heehee—Hey, what's that pitter-pattering sound coming up behind me?

"Booo!" A tiny filly pounces on me from behind. She tries to wrestle me down into the dirt by my tail fluff. "Did I scare ya?"

"Oh no! Ninja Apple Bloom!" I teeter left. I teeter right. I plunged into a mound of hay and stick my bright hoofsies into the golden afternoon. "It was an ambush! A sting! A snare! A trap! Whatever will Auntie Pinkie do?!"

"Oh for pete's sake," Applejack manages beneath a goofy looking facehoof.

"Hehehehe!" Apple Bloom prances over and tries to tickle me. She is in for a world of giggles. "I gotcha, didn't I! Admit it, I finally gotcha, Pinkie Pie!"

"You know what this means..." I stand up slowly. My eyes are thin. I remember all the times I practiced this on Gummy. "Only one pony in all of Equestria has ever been tickled pink, and now she seeks REVENGE!" I pounce on her and rub my mane into the middle of her tummy.

"Aaaack! Heehee! I'm sorry! I give!" Apple Bloom squirms and giggles, waving a tiny hoof out towards Applejack. "Save me, sis! Tell her I'm mighty sorry!"

"You done digged yer own hole, Apple Bloom." Applejack tilted her hat full of pans and entered the household, wiping her hooves on the front mat beforehand. "I've fought Miss Tickles and Giggles before. There ain't no winnin' that battle!"

"Hey! Applejack, wait up!" I stand up.

Apple Bloom jumps to her hooves and trots happy little circles around me. "Did you come to throw us a party, Pinkie Pie? Huh?"

"Maybe just for you, Miss Sweet Apple Acres!" I grin and squat down low. "Want a ride on the Bouncy Express?"

"Do I?!" Apple Bloom hops atop my spine in a blink and grasps mane. "Giddyup! We've got evil, mutant apples to outrun!"

"Heehee! If you say so!" I bounce forward at a leisurely pace, careful not to toss the adoracute little filly from my shoulders. "But you'd better hold tight! The Auntie Pinkie Pie Express doesn't stop for nothin'!"

"I ain't scared!" Apple Bloom giggles as we bound and leap together towards the farmhouse. "Woohooo! Heehee! This is one sure fire way to get me a rodeo cutie mark!"

"Oooh! Oooh!" I gasp as we burst into the foyer of the Apple Family home. "Can I be the clown?! I sooooo wanna live in a barrel!"

"I think you've got part of that covered, darlin'," Applejack's voice hollers from the kitchen as we head towards it. "Good luck findin' yerself a barrel, though." My heart beats as her drawls grow a bit closer. "Hey Granny! Look what Pinkie brought us! Compliments of Ms. Cake!"

"Oooooh! Now ain't that sweet of her?" The smell of raw dough wafts over my coat like a second skin. I see the old, lime-green mare as I carry Apple Bloom into the kitchen. Heehee! I so wanna rock a mane-bun like that when I'm Granny's age. I wonder if I'll have as many wrinkles? Maybe if I roll them out in the morning, I can make myself a second tail! "These are just what I was needin' to finish these here baked goods. Aluminum don't grow on trees like they used to."

"Uhm, Granny?" Applejack stands in the kitchen corner, fanning her sweaty self with the hat. "Metal never grew on trees."

"Hah! Is that what they's teachin' y'all in them fancy-schmancy texbooks these days?" Granny Smith turns, takes one look at the filly atop me, and scowls, "Apple Bloom! Git yer hide off her hide this instance! Heavens to betsy, she's our guest, not a dag blame'd petting zoo ride!"

"Awwww..." Apple Bloom pouts as she trots down onto the kitchen tile beside me. "But Auntie Pinkie was just tryin' to help me get my rodeo cutie mark!"

Heeheehee. Oh, I love being Apple Bloom's auntie. I wonder if Granny will ever call me "granddaughter," if just for one day. This kitchen is so old, and yet so beautiful and amazing. I could bake a masterpiece in here, but if only they'd let me. I would be so super duper lucky.

"Don't be mad at the little scampy wampy, Granny!" I say with a smile that reflects off her old, glossy eyes. "I was just giving her a little tour of the farm."

"You? Givin' a tour of the farm she was raised on?"

"Yes! It was educational!" I turn and gasp in shock at Apple Bloom. "Did you see all the apples?! Weren't they amazing? I hear they only come up from their burrows once a harvest, or else it's another six months of pears!"

"Oh, yes!" Apple Bloom's wide-eyed face looks a lot like mine. "I've never seen creatures that were so... red!"

"Heaven help us," Applejack mutters with a roll of her green eyes and an even bigger roll of her lips. She smiles and her smile drags her across the kitchen until she's brushing past me. "I swear, every time you drop by, Pinkie, it's like our pantries are full of five times as many jars of sugar."

"Ooooh! That can be arranged!" I bounce around in a circle and watch her trot into the Apple Family living room. "I'm sure Miss Cake would love to send more things for pie baking! I could fetch some fresh bags! Oh, and some flour! Ooooh! Ooooh—and cinammon, like we talked about earlier!" Bounce bounce bounce. "I can so totally make deliveries for you all day, everyday!"

"She's a regular bushel load, ain't she?" I hear Granny Smith say from behind, followed by Apple Bloom's high-pitched laughter. I think my day's just been made. I swear, can it get any sunnier? Heehee...

"Say, Pinkie?" Applejack's voice calls from the distant hallway. It's strangely... dull sounding. Uh oh. "Could ya c'mere for a second? I gots somethin' to tell you."

I can't tell if my heart is leaping or falling. Maybe both. Can hearts fly? Does that mean they can walk on clouds like pegasi? Omigosh Omigosh Omigosh—I'm just making her wait by standing here, aren't I?

"Coming!" I sing-song. In two blinks, I've crossed teh house. Applejack is leaning away from me with bright eyes. Ooops. I think I galloped a little too quickly towards her. Eheheh. "Uhm, I'm here! Heheh... What's up, Applejack? Besides the ceiling, that is..."

"It's awful nice havin' you come visit like this, Pinkie Pie..."

I smile.

"However..."

My smile twitches.

"You really shouldn't feel like yer havin' to play deliverypony between the Cake family and the Pie family all the time," Applejack says in a low voice, as if our conversation is something crazy secret that only the shadows should know.

"Oh..." I squeak forth. I feel my ears drooping. I'm looking limply towards the floor before I can think twice about it. "Oh..."

And just then, I realize the day could stand to get sunnier, cuz she's smiling again. "If you wanna just visit, Pinkie Pie, just visit!" Freckles and freckles and freckles. "Y'all rightly know that things ain't just normal, stuffy business between us, sugarcube! My house is yours to crash in when you feel like it, and heaven knows I could use the company when I do my routine apple buckin'!"

My breaths are coming out in tiny bubbles. I think I can feel the soap suds between my teeth. "Eh... eh heh heh heh... Y-You really mean it?" My teeth chatter briefly. I try to scare the shivers away with a gulp but the shivers are being meanie-heads. This place is so comfy, so warm, and I swear that all the photos of countrified relatives are all smiling at me in the same way that Applejack is. Omigosh, she's smiling sooooo much! This is the best random afternoon in the middle of July ever! "I mean, you always have so much work to do, and sometimes it feels like all I'm good at is playing pranks or singing songs—"

"It's an absolute hoot havin' you around, Pinkie," Applejack says with a soft chuckle. So adult, so sisterly, so motherly. I wanna hug her to find out if it's something elsely, but I don't. "Celestia knows Apple Bloom is in stitches just to see you!"

"Heehee! Yeah! She's absolutely adorable!"

I look at the paintings and photos of Applejack's relatives. Her home has a gentle smell to it, like a day old batch of banana bread, not too hard, not too soft. It's like the perfect sofa, and I sooooo wanna just scrunch into the armrest and watch Apple Bloom play with her dolls and Big Mac fix his farmtools and Granny Smith show off her photo albums all the while with Applejack sitting beside me, laughing with that special little drawl of hers, and maybe—just maybe—holding my hoof in hers.

I wish all farms were like this, so full of spirit and earth and all that simple brown goodness. I lived on a farm once. There was no color; everything was gray and rocky and bouldery. I started smiling out of nowhere. I made my family smile too, but it didn't last long. I kept smiling. But they?

"They sent me away..."

"Hmmm?" Applejack leans forward. "What's that, sugarcube?"

"Erm..." I give her my greatest gift, and it hurts my cheeks. "Th-the Cakes sent me to just to hoof you the pie pans! I really didn't mean to make you worry big time about me or nothing..."

"Heheh... This ain't worry, darlin'. Just levelin' with ya, one pony to another. You're welcome to visit anytime. We're friends, after all."

"Yes..." I say with a warm breath. It could be warmer, but I don't want to sink a boat once it's unfurled such a bright sale. I think Twilight used that expression once. She's also a friend. "Yes, we are, aren't we?"

Applejack pats my shoulder. I try not to melt as she then says, "I gotta head on out to the fields. Rainbow Dash is gonna be here soon..."

"Oooh? Dashie?"

"Erm..." She fidgets slightly. "Yes. 'Dashie.' Heh. Anyways, she's gonna help me water some of the dry fields that's been needed moisture somethin' awful. Yer welcome to stay and watch, but I don't think it's gonna be exactly fun."

"Don't fret it!" I bounce. "Fretting is for Fretsenstein Monsters! Heeehee." I salute, raising a pink hoof to a pink forehead with a pink smile. "I'll see ya at the get together at Sugarcube Corner tonight! With bells on! Heehee!"

"Darned if that wouldn't be somethin' worth seein'!"

"Heehee! You're a silly pony, Applejack!" I spin around and bound out of the house, her freckles glued to my eyelids like happy-happy polkadots. "Nopony can see a ringing noise!"

That gosh darn braggart who's fixin' to live her own way

I take a gander at Pinkie Pie moseyin' away with that infernal lil' bounce of hers. The farm always does brighten up somethin' special when she's pokin' her fluffy head around, but there's only so much of the Cakes' niece that a mare can take in one afternoon. I was simply extendin' proper hospitality when I told her to visit the family more often. As much as I like havin' the mare around, I'm not sure I could handle her sassafrass everyday. Ah well, I don't think the cheerful darlin' will let it get to her head. I mean, Pinkie Pie's an adult; she knows how to be subtle, right?

Awwww shucks. Reckon I just dug myself a hole I can't climb out of. Ah well. I've got more work to do. Actually, come to think of it, somepony else is comin' and she's the one who's gonna be doin' all the work.

My heart does one of its silly lil' square dances inside my chest, and darned if I ain't surprised at how soon I trip over myself. I can feel a sigh swimmin' through me, as if the last five seconds has gotten me more tuckered out than an entire day's worth of apple buckin'.

Heaven to Betsy, I thought I was past this! Just keep yer fruit all in one basket, AJ. Yer frettin' over nothin'; you always have been. Think about the farm. Think about the crops that need waterin'. This is strictly business, and if there's anythang yer good at, AJ, it's gettin' the job done.

Doesn't help that the pony I'm waitin' for is as lazy as a sack full of worn out ol' galoshes. Ugh, I swear, it's like this every dag blame'd time I ask her to help me with somethin' at the farm! The day I had her to tear down the old barn on the edge of the family property, I had to wait for four blasted hours past our scheduled meetin' time before she so much as showed a single feather. I really, really wanted to wring her neck at the time. It's not all that different from right now, I reckon. Shucks, how long have I been sittin' on this here tree stump? Thirty minutes? Forty? I'd have better luck waitin' for an actual hurricane to come on its lonesome and tackle the job instead!

And then, I see it, and my foalish lil' heart does that dance yet again. I hate myself, and yet I'm too busy tryin' to catch my breath. Does she even know what it's like for other ponies? Here I am, sittin' all patient-like, and suddenly a part of the sky moves away from the rest. I figured she was foaled with a coat that matched blue daylight for a reason. It's like she came out of the clouds by means of some spooky accident. It'd make sense, if ya asked me, considerin' she's just as loose and as flighty as raindrops, the crazy mare. Maybe I'm the only pony who notices it. It pokes at me constantly, the thought that is: that I can look up at the sky and—at any given moment—she could be there, flyin' my way, fixin' to pull a prank, or just hoverin' about all calm-like, watchin' me from above.

Nah. Nah, she couldn't possibly care to take a high-flyin' gander at this boring, laborin', smelly farm filly. I've been over this. It just ain't true, and besides, I should really stop sweatin' the issue; I should just stick to sweatin'. It seems to be all I'm good for, and—Whoah Nelly! Here she comes. Gosh darn it...

She plummets down towards the farm like an anvil, clutchin' a pair of thick black thunderclouds in her petite hooves. I realize once again, as I always do when them sharp ruby eyes of hers stab my way, that this is really just her world and we all happen to be livin' in it. With a single, careless smirk, the darn lazy pegasus makes all those wasted minutes of waitin' dissolve in a blink.

"What's up, Applejack?" Rainbow Dash's voice cracks. "You in love with that tree stump, or did you decide to try planting apples with your cutie mark?" She follows this nonsense with a wink.

Gosh darn it...

"Howdy yerself," I grunt. I try to sound angry, but what's the use? Reckon it's one way to keep my fumblin' breaths even like cornrows, at least. "What kept you? Was there one of them Wonderbolt conventions between Cloudsdale and here?"

"Pfft! Look, I had to sandwich this between a late afternoon nap and an errand I still have to do for Fluttershy!" She fiddles with the thunderclouds until they are parked all even-like above the two of us. "So don't pop a hair ribbon loose, Miss Timekeeper! You're not the only pony in town who asks for my help on a regular basis, after all."

She's just talkin' hooey. I really ought to smack her; any self-respectin' adult with a farm to manage would have full right to tear her down a notch for bein' so tardy. But, just like that, all of may anger is sapped, like I'm a fisherpony on a boat and all the wind's taken from my sails. And yet, I reckon I dun mind.. I wanna hate myself, but there's that silly little dance inside my chest again, and I feel like a little filly's who's left breathless, and rightfully so, for a piece of the sky has come down to pay her a sweet little visit and—my stars and garters, it's really hot out today, isn't it? I almost wish Pinkie had stayed, bless her heart. She always outsweats me.

"Mmmmm..." I mumble like a moody housecat, then shrug the argument off my shoulders as if it were a worn out old raincoat. "No use in frettin' the small stuff, s-sugarcube," my voice cracks, and darned if it's not even close to havin' that swell little chime that she produces without even tryin' to. "Let's just get wet, shall we?"

"H-huh?"

"The fields!" I sputter forth like a rusted shotgun. "The fields: they need waterin' like there's no tomorrow." The only thang keepin' me from fallin' flat on my face is the huge lump in my gut right about now. Shucks, Ma and Pa would be rollin' in their graves if only they weren't too darn busy laughin' at my dumb flank. "What say I lasso one of them clouds and take it to the north field while you drag the other one over yonder to the east orchards—?"

"Pffft! Bwahahah! That's rich!" Her voice claps like thunder, that is... if thunder fancied itself as bein' all raspy, foalish, and full of insufferable chuckles. "No doubt you could wrangle up a minotaur if your life depended on it, AJ. But it's best that you leave the cloud kicking to the real experts." Rainbow Dash flexes one of her forelimbs as she says this. Surely she knows that even all four of them legs' muscles couldn't benchpress more than my right rear hoof. Shucks, that's just it: she knows, but she doesn't care. She's better than everypony, after all, even when she ain't.

Oh darn, I haven't said anythang in a while. Uhm... "I just wanna make sure that you get all them plants properly watered—"

"Hey! Chillax, Applejack!" her voice cracks again. Gosh darn it. "I've got this! You just sit there and... I dunno... count seaponies or somethin'."

"Seaponies?! Why of all the confounded, hog-tyin' nonsense—"

"Hah! Yes!" She cheers and giggles her way over the apple trees with the twin clouds in tow. "I did it! I filled your angry mouth with country! Heh. Annnnnyway, this will only take a few seconds!"

I groan, hopin' that the air leavin' my lungs will cool the burnin' that I'm startin' to feel in my face. Maybe it's a good thing that she's doin' all the weather work up there on her lonesome. I swear, I'd eat all four of my horseshoes if she so much as saw me... doin' what? Blushin' like a schoolfilly who receives a note full of sappy nonsense in the classroom?

When did this start? I reckon nopony can put her hoof on the birth of somethin' so wonderful and dag blame'd stupid all at once. All my life, I've been the go-to pony in Ponyville for whenever some household task needed fixin' or tidyin' up. Truth is, though, I was never the only dependable pony. Rainbow was always there, always doin' her own thang in the sky, always alone with her laughter and her sneers and her boastin' and her showin' off, fillin' the air with fancy moves and color. We never really did interact much. It's not like we were rivals or nothin', but she had the clouds and I had the fields. When them things met, it was always nature's doin' it, so we never interacted all that much.

And then Twilight showed up, and everythang changed. I realized that ponies beyond my immediate family meant more to me than just work buddies. There were so many new friends in my life, so many new opportunities of sharin' my joys and fears, my laughin' and sobbin'. It was okay to talk about my folks' passin', to talk about the concerns I had for the future of the farm and all. And among all the new friends I had, the one that stood out the most—that spoke with such bluntness and darin' swagger that it put my own honesty to shame—is the same crazy pegasus who's doin' loopty loops over my head right now, spreadin' rain all over the parched corners of the farm and whoopin' and hollerin' like the whole thing is a game.

That's life, I guess: a game—or at least it is to her. Every day is a new leg in a sport, and Rainbow is always havin' to outrace and outclimb and outshow everypony that crosses her path. She doesn't just live in the sky, she plum owns it. It's downright arrogant, I reckon, and I'd be lyin' if I said I never butted heads with her ego from time to time.

But I think part of that fussin' was 'cuz I envied her, and I rightly still do. There's no shame in admittin' it, really. Rainbow Dash does what she wants. It's really as darn simple as that: she does what she wants and doesn't let anypony tell her different. How many times have I wanted to do my own thang when somethin' Apple Bloom or Big Mac needed to get done got in the way of my plans? How many times have I wanted to give a few stuck-up windbags in Ponyville a good piece of my mind? And yet, I never did, for the very same reason that Rainbow Dash can and will.

Fear. I see it, I smell it, and I respect it. But Rainbow doesn't. She's the most fearless, courageous, and downright darin' soul I've ever had both the pleasure and frustration to know. For months I chewed her out for it, lectured her somethin' awful, and just about bit her blasted tail off from yankin' her away from a potential fight more times than I could count. But, now that I look back at all that, I reckon it was all cuz I wanted somethin' that I could never have, but was hers from the beginning. Just like the sky blue of her coat, she was born with it.

And t'ain't all she was born with neither. Those ocean-blue feathers of her, them stabbin' red eyes, that voice that cracks and crackles and sends my heart smackin' into invisible barns left and right: she never even tries to make herself presentable or nothin', and yet there's some special and fancy beauty to it all.

And then there's her mane. Who'd think that somepony—anypony—could sport all them ridiculous colors and somehow not come across as rambunctious or just plain goofy? I've never been one for fussin' much with my looks, but from my early days of trottin', my Ma raised me proper, and I knew that it took a lick of good sense and decent work to make oneself presentable for a public stroll through downtown.

But Rainbow? She doesn't fuss at all, not one darn bit. I've seen her walk in unwashed from a downpour or a nasty mudslide, and still her mane—as ragged and colorful as ever—just looks... so dang perfect.

And then there was that one weekend at Twilight's. I don't tell many ponies about this. Why should I? Reckon it makes me sound like somethin' downright pathetic. But it was fresh on the tail of Cider Season when Twilight had invited the whole heapin' lot of us gals to her place for a sleepover. We had some extra mugs of the family product to pass around. Now, I never take to samplin' my own cider much, so we had some extra rounds to share around the rest. Of course, Rainbow leapt upon it. Before we could stop her, she had chugged four of them mugs down. Whewie! I've never seen a mare get so tipsy in all my life. Heh. I get into stitches just thinkin' about it now.

Anyways, after much silliness, she eventually went out like a light, along with the rest of us. But the next mornin', Rainbow wasn't up to doin' much of anything at all. Turns out she had one whopper of a headache, and she couldn't admit to the other ponies that she needed a helpin' hoof in gettin' home. Well, I took it upon myself to step in, and Rainbow Dash let me help her. I think she trusted me, since I wasn't one to poke at her much for gettin' all sloshed in the first place.

If she had told me ahead of time that I had to carry her limp body across half of Ponyville, I might have thought twice. Still, I had already offered to help, so I oblidged the best way I could. I'd never seen Rainbow Dash so tuckered out before, and I've never since. The poor thang was moanin' and groanin' about her achin' head. I simply chuckled about it at the time, but lookin' back, I feel mighty sorry for her.

Where was I goin' with this? Oh, right. Well, I carried her home and all that nonsense. And when I did, I felt her mane for the first time. It couldn't be helped; she was sprawled across my back like Winona after a trip to the vet. It wasn't like I was pawin' at her hair or nothin', cuz that's just one huge heap of gross.

But, I couldn't help but notice: it felt like silk. And I'm not just blowin' hot air either. Rarity once let me try on a silk robe to help her with a sewin' job at the Boutique. I know what the fancy-shmancy stuff feels like, and still—I swear to Celestia—it didn't feel as heavenly smooth and all soft-like as Rainbow's mane. And this is a mare who doesn't even try to condition her 'do or nothin'! She simply lives, all colorful and happy and brave and alive, and she somehow manages to do it in such a purdy way that... that...

Gosh darn it. Why is it always like this, lately? Every time Rainbow visits, every time she brings that piece of the sky with her over my farm, it's like a part of me wants to lift up into the clouds with her and ask Rainbow all her secrets. Sure, it used to be all about envyin' her, wantin' to be as brazenly selfish as her, wantin' to be able to sport such pretty looks without even makin' a fuss about it. But then I realize that I really don't want to try and be all them crazy things myself. Instead, I reckon I just want to have all of them crazy things around me, hangin' out with me, maybe... m-maybe even seen in town right next to me...

Land's sakes, I'm stronger than this! What holes in my life could there be that must be filled up with somethang that only she can provide all of the sudden? I have my family. I have my apples. I have my hard work and self-respect.

I guess... I guess what I don't have is the sky. I don't have freedom, excitement, or none of them other thrills, and Rainbow Dash is simply all of them and more. And when she's gone, I feel lonesome, as if it's nighttime for days on end. And yet, when she's around, I can't say a single darn thing about it. I just can't. Cuz, even now, she's makin' it rain like some barrel-rolling angel of the weather. And me? I can only do what she jokingly hollered just minutes ago: sit around and count my own borin' thoughts.

Oh Rainbow, you big-headed, high-gallavantin' braggart, do you have a lick of sense what bein' around you does to me? I just feel so...

So normal...

"Whewww!" Rainbow Dash chirps. It's me who's lost track of time now, and I can see the soft gray drizzle of rain as it smothers the once-dry lengths of my precious orchards. "All in a day's rinse! Hah!" She twirls and backflips her way toward the ground, toward me. Even when she doesn't try to be special, she simply is. She plants her petite hooves on the soft soil before me like the very act is a gift and we both know it. "That didn't take long at all! Anything else you need me to do, Crackle-Jack-Pop?"

Yes. Would you fancy spendin' the afternoon with me, sugarcube? Would you tell me all about yer adorable pie-in-the-sky Wonderbolt fantasies, just so I can hear that adorable voice crack again and again like an old record playin' timeless tunes? Would you watch the rain with me for a little while, so that I could build up the strength to tell you a secret, a secret that might make you blush? I mean, it's all well and fine, because the blue sky is always due for a sunset anways, don't you think?

"Nah, that about covers it, Rainbow." Gosh darn it. "I'll wait until the clouds have cleared up, and then I'll see if the moisture gets to the roots or not."

"Pffft! What, you don't trust me to get the job done?"

"Now I didn't say that—" Watch it, AJ. Don't breathe too hard. T'ain't the same when yer voice cracks, after all...

"Whatever." She dismisses it. She dismisses everything and smiles. "There's a dinner scheduled at Sugarcube Corner this evening. Am I gonna see you there?"

Oh, land's sakes, yes! "I reckon so. All the other gals will be there too, right?"

"Uhhhh... Yeaaaaah?" Her ruby eyes glint weirdly. "Of course they will. Why you ask?"

"Ahem. Just gettin' all the facts straight."

"Well, as long as one of us is."

"Heheheheh... Good one, Rainbow—" I freeze in place, twitchin' something awful. "Wait, what—?"

"See ya later, cowpoke!" She zooms off towards the edge of Everfree Forest. I swear, the sky's already turnin' dark and gloomy without her. "I gotta meet up with Fluttershy to deliver something for her to Cloudsdale! Try not to choke on any appleseeds between now and the meetup!"

"And just what's that supposed to mean?!" I feel a frown being foaled across my face again, but she's gone before she can see it. Everythang is nothin' but dirt and soil and sweat—my sweat—and it's doubled since she came here and I reckon it'll triple now that she's gone.

Gosh darn it...

That weak feather of a pegasus who totally digs me

Yeesh. Sweet Apple Acres is so boring. If I had to work there, I'd hang myself. Celestia knows there's enough friggin' apple trees to do it with. I wonder how come Applejack's lived so long; surely she gets bored to death too. Or, maybe, she has tried hanging herself before, but the rope snapped every time. Why not? Her dang neck's thick enough for that to happen.

Heh. Heheheheheh. Ahhhhhh yeahhhhh. Gosh, this breeze is frickin' sweet. Whoop! Here comes a good tail-wind. Gotta make use of it. Hmmm-Ah! I know! The Nebula Gale Spiral! Just loop around, tilt to the right, let the gust carry you—Whoahhhh ho ho ho ho! Haha! Yeah! Nailed it! Stick that in your jumpsuit and roll around in it, Soarin'. Give it a year or two and, I swear, the only pie you'll be eating will be my—

Whoah, hello down there? Is it? Hey, it is.

"Fluttershy!" I holler. "Yo, Fluttershy!" I holler again. Nothing.

I squint. Uhhh, yeah, she's totally down there in the middle of the road. I could recognize that weak streak of yellow from a continent away. The heck is going on? Is she not hearing me from down there? Arrgh, is her ears full of cotton or somecrap? What's she doing anyway? Looks like she's feeding a ferret some fish. Doesn't seem to be biting the food any. Heh, what are the odds it's just road kill? Heheh... Heheheheheheh—Shhh! Shhh, this is gonna be sweet. Heheheh—Check this out. Just fly down, land, squat behind the bushes, ready your legs, stretch out your wings, aaaaaaaaaand—

"Halt right there!" I leap into the dirt road, growling. "It's the weasel police! Hoof over your tiny, furry carnivores!"

"Eeeeep!" Fluttershy squeaks like a million mice receiving papercuts all at once and lands on her back with her hooves sticking up into the air. The ferret lets out a breathless gasp and scurries into the nearby thicket. Meh. Little coward.

"Snkkkt—Hahaha! Jeez, Fluttershy! Do you ever stop being so predictable?! Hahaha!"

"Oh Rainbow Dash," she murmurs. She climbs up to her hooves, jolting with each palpitating heartbeat surging through her. "Why must you always be so... so..."

"Sneaky?"

"I was going to say 'loud,'" she murmurs, picking at a smattering of spilled fish in the road and placing them back into her basket. "We've been around each other all our lives. More than anypony, you know that I startle easily."

"Well, it's a tough world we live in, ain't it?" I trot swiftly around her. I bet I could fly around her four times as fast. "Luckily, you've got me to help you keep your guard up! Imagine how much more of a softy you'd be if I wasn't around!"

"Erm..." She bites her lip and fidgets in that way she's always been doing since flight school. The blush in her cheeks is like a sunset on snowy mountains. "Yes, I... uh... I suppose."

I smile. Oh yeah. She totally digs me.

"So..." I plant a hoof on her basket and sniff at it, making a face. "Whatcha doin' all the way out here shoving fish down the throats of marsupials?"

"Uhm... Ferrets aren't marsupials."

"Whatever, it's all the same."

She sighs, but gives me a gentle smile all the same. "Well, you didn't show up forty minutes ago like I thought you would, so I figured I'd spend the time feeding the forest critters who are too shy to even come close to my cottage. And, well, as most animal caretakers know, fish is a delectable source of protein for almost all walks of—"

"Boooriiiiiiiing," I groan. "How come I never see you building stables for Ursa Majors, Phoenixes, Capricorns, or any of the really cool creatures that stumble into Equestria? Heck, if you built a doghouse for Cerberus, even I would visit the place more!"

"Well, those are all fantastic creatures, Rainbow Dash, but on top of being very large in size, they're also not very social. They like to keep to themselves, the Capricorns especially. And—besides—who am I to invade on their privacy?" With a gentle smile, she turns and trots her dainty self east along the dirt road. "I didn't realize you thought so many of my animal friends were boring. After all, when it was time for you to get a pet, didn't you take a special liking to Tank?"

"Who?"

"Oh. Oh... uhm..."

"Just what are you doing, Fluttershy?"

"Huh? I... I'm walking back to the cottage."

"You call that walking?!"

"I... guess?"

"For crying out loud! I've known slugs who go faster than you!"

"How... Wh-Where did you see slugs going so fast?"

"'Daring Do and the Large Haydron Collider,'" I say. I smile. "They were wearing rocket launchers."

"Really? How... uhm... fascinating?"

"Don't you want me to deliver those papers you got at the cottage to Cloudsdale or don't you?"

"I do, Rainbow. I'm going as fast as I can. Would you like me to fly?"

"Heh. Don't bother." I reach over and swing a hoof around her ribs. "Hold onto your fish."

"Rainbow Dash, you really don't have to—Eeeep!"

Oh yes. We have to. I'm grinning. She's flinching. Wind and trees and leaves and more leaves. We're like speedboats on a green ocean, and nothing can stop us. Yeah, this is how you fly. Too bad Fluttershy won't try to move this fast on her own. I have to do the real flying for the both of us. It's always been that way, really. Since day one, I've tugged her around, like I'm doing now. Any sensible pegasus would have given up ages ago, but not this mare. I guess my problem is that I'm too nice. Heh.

Nah, I don't expect her to thank me. Through the blurring haze of my side vision, I can see her yellow figure wincing, trembling. She's already lost a mackerel or two from her basket. Dang it, filly, get ahold of yourself! Yeesh. You see, I could have said that last part out loud, but I didn't. I mean, Fluttershy's got feelings, after all, and they're super sensitive—or at least that's what Pinkie has told me several times.

I never really see much of a use for them: feelings, that is. However, they appear to be all Fluttershy wants to grab ahold of, never mind a good tail-wind. If only she practiced flying a lot harder from the very early years, maybe she'd be able to outpace a swarm of butterflies. But I guess that was not meant to me. Yeesh, I can't even begin to count all the times I've had to "defend her honor" and whatnot. But it's not like I'm complaining, not really. I hate it when other ponies chew out the poor girl. Like, seriously, they can all get bent! She doesn't need any of their jerkiness, and so long as I'm around, they'll regret ever trying to lift a hoof against her.

Hey, is that something like feeling? No? Meh, my brain hurts whenever it tries thinking about my heart.

"C-could you slow down, Rainbow Dash?" she whimpers. "Just a little bit?"

"Just chillax! You'll be fine! A few g-forces never ruined anything but a previous speed record!" I mean, really, is there any part of Fluttershy's body that isn't soft? I feel like I've got a pillow full of flower petals tucked under my arm. Just how does nature shove a living, thinking, talking thing into such a frail cloud of trembles and shakes? Heck, I'd be scared if I were her, having a non-athletic body like that, utterly helpless to a random burst of air. Celestia knows what she'd do in the middle of a hurricane. "Ever thought of eating some of those fish yourself? Y'know, for the protein?"

"Rainbow Dash!" she gasps as if I just set fire to one of her relatives. Omigosh, that clicking sound in the back of her throat: y'know the one where she comes across too confused to be either angry or shocked? So frickin' ridiculous; it drives me crazy. "How could you suggest such a thing?!"

"Hahahaha—Oh! We're here!" I do a backflip, carrying her with me, and drag us earthward in a whistling plunge. At the last second, I apply the airbrakes—a trade secret—and touch us down onto the welcome rug of her cottage's front entrance. Heh... doormat to doormat landing. See what I did there? "Now that wasn't so bad, was it?"

"Mmmmm..." She's clinging to me, trembling, her eyes clenched as her soft face nuzzles my shoulder.

I smirk. Yup. Totally digs me. "Ahem."

Her blue eyes flutter open. She blushes again and spins towards the door, fumbling with the handle. "Uhm, thank you, I-I guess..."

"Er, you're welcome, I guess," I say with a frown, coiling my wings tight against my sides. "It's a good thing I don't ask for tips, am I right?"

"Uhm..."

"So are you going to go to the Sugarcube Corner meet-up tonight?"

"Oh!" she brightens suddenly, smiling over her shoulder at me as she opens the door and leads us both into her cottage. "Absolutely! I wouldn't miss it for anything. I look forward to Granny Smith's apple pies and Twilight Sparkle's reading of Canterlot cook books and—"

"Sounds like a total snore fest to me," I say as I march into the foyer past her.

"Oh..." She blinks, her fuzzy yellow face scrunching up. "Really?"

"Ughh... Do I have to spell it out for you, Fluttershy?" I grumble as I pace past her fireplace, brushing a hoof over the portraits of her many brothers and sisters back in Cloudsdale. In a family with eleven kids, she was the last frickn' one foaled. I swear, her mom's womb was just saving her for a rainy day. It freaks me out to think of how tiny she was at age... pfft, zero. Even when we went to school together, she was so petite that I could pick her up and swing her around like she was made of hairpins. "I mean, apple pies and long dissertations on what kind of casserole Starswirl the Bearded shoved down his wrinkly gullet? Unnngh... Complete, utter Lameapaloosa!"

"I don't know," she says with a smile. She breaks off to pour green pet feed for a swarm of furry little creatures flocking up from the far corners of the cottage to greet her. "I think it'll be a learning experience. Besides, I'm always happy to spend time with you and the other girls. I look forward to hearing about Applejack's family, Pinkie's jokes, Twilight's science experiments..." She stops pouring the bag just long enough to take a huge breath. "...Rarity's dress making projects..."

"Uh huh..." I gaze at the paintings some more. "You're a total softy as usual, Fluttershy..."

"Well, if that's the case, then I'm quite happy to be. Being around friends makes me feel all warm and... t-toasty inside. Don't you feel the same way?"

"Mmmmm..." I tongue the corners of my mouth. This place smells like squirrel poop. There're loose mouse hairs and bird feathers in the corners of the room. I vaguely recall Fluttershy asking me a question four... maybe five seconds ago, but it's like yesterday's eggs all of the sudden. This place could really do with some maid service or something. Isn't that Fluttershy's bag? Cleaning up stuff? Heck, she's a pegasus. She should be living up in the clouds like me, where you don't have to fret about dusting or sweeping or nothing. "Don't you ever get lonely in this place?"

She looks at me solidly, her eyebrow arched. "Lonely... Rainbow Dash?"

Why's she looking at me so weird? It's not like I asked her if—Oh holy flaming crap, I did ask her if she was lonely. Why did I just do that? Dang it all. I blame her stupid, soft body and her stupid blushing and her stupid... stupid... stupid...

"Er... I mean... You're just surrounded by a bunch of animals," I say, turning to face her, or at least the open door behind her, which is suddenly really crazy inviting. "Is there something so wrong about living around other pegasi?" I gulp. "Like me?"

"Well, you're my closest and oldest friend, Rainbow Dash. You've taken care of me for as long as I know." She puts the bag of feed away and paces over towards the envelope full of files that she needs me to deliver. "But, unfortunately, not all pegasi are like you. You... uhm... you know how terrible I am with crowds, especially with ponies of a feather. It's why I'm always having you go to Cloudsdale to deliver my monthly report to the Animal Commission."

Stupid... Stupid... Stupid... "Well, maybe all other pegasi are—like..." I fumble for words. "...totally stupid!" Even I have to wince at that.

She giggles. It's the gentlest sound in the world, and still I feel like her side of the cottage has exploded in flames. "All pegasi but you and me?" She winks, and I feel that explosion again. Am I doing a swan dive into a volcano right now? No? Then what the heck's your deal, heart?! "Isn't that rather hard to believe, Rainbow?" she says, then slowly shakes her head like the melancholy little foal I had always hoped to wring out from her soft body. "No, I'm just weak. I don't fit in with the ponies of Clousdale, and you know what? That's okay. I've learned to accept things in life, and when I needed help, you were always there to give it."

"You're..." I gnash through my teeth like there's a thorn in my wings. "You're not weak, Fluttershy..."

"Aren't I, though?"

"You're... You're..." I turn and look at the photographs again. There were so many faces, so many family members, so many distant relations, and I couldn't remember a single time when I had seen any one of them in person. "You're here," I say. I hear Fluttershy's weak voice whimper, only it's not her voice. What the heck? Why's the world foggy all of the sudden? We're inside...

"Is... Is everything okay, Rainbow Dash?"

"H-huh?" I look her way. She's foggy too. But then I blink, and the fogginess goes away. I almost die right here. Hissing, I rub a forelimb across my eyes and snarl, "Friggin' furballs. I swear, I'm allergic to one of them."

"We've known each other for a long time, Rainbow Dash. You've never shown allergies to any of my furry friends before..."

"Oh yeah?! Well..." I stomp a foot and growl, "There're are so dang many of them! Who's to know?!"

"Heeheehee..." She smiles calmly my way. "Who indeed...?" She doesn't seem so weak anymore. Why does that scare me? It's not like she's the one struggling to find a cloud over Ponyville to sleep on every night. It's not like she's the one utterly alone when the stars appear overhead. It's not like she's the one... who closes her eyes, just as the moonlight fogs over, and all she can think of is one name that she repeats over and over again into sleep, and then hugs the sound of it to her lungs like some pathetic blankie to warm her—

"Do you have the friggin' envelope for me to deliver or don't you?!"

She bounces away from me, shivering slightly. "Uhm... Of course!" She gives it to me in a trembling hoof. "Here you go, Rainbow. Thanks for doing the delivery for me again. Just try to be gentle with the contents of the file this time—"

I yank the thing from her grasp, crease it down the middle, fold it again, and shove it under a sweaty wing. "Yuh huh. Right. Got it. Need anything else?"

"Erm..." She squirms, her eyes locked on the one wing. With a sigh, she ultimately decides to smile. "Only that I wish you a safe trip, and I do hope you'll reconsider."

"Reconsider what?"

"Cancelling your appearance at our friendly little get together at Sugarcube Corner tonight."

"Pfft!" I spit. "Who said I wasn't coming, girl?!" I chuckle. "I mean—heck—you're going to be there, right?"

"Well, yes."

"And somepony's gotta walk you home afterdark, am I right?"

"Oh Rainbow Dash..."

"Well, am I right?"

She giggles slightly. "You're always so watchful over me. But, really, I can walk myself home just fine."

"You sure? I promise I won't rocket you around this time."

"Oh, I'm sure you'd do everything just short of carrying me over the thresshold if I let you."

My eyes jerk in opposite directions. Bright white light. Something about that last sentence. Something is breaking inside. I see her smile again, but this time she's looking up at me. Why at such a weird angle? Am I carrying her somewhere? Past the clutter, past all the bird feathers and squirrel poop in the corners of this lonely place, towards a soft corner of the upstairs room that smells most like her, just like the cloud we abandoned since our childhood, only this time we're both there—together—and when I'm laying her down, there's somepony to hear me say that quiet name over and over again, and instead of the starlight there's her tiny smile and the sheen from her breath fogging my eyes over—

"Getting ready to fly, Rainbow Dash?"

My eyes snap back, and I see her on the other end of the foyer, looking at me—or past me.

"Oh! Don't you know it! Heheheh—Best way to prep for a trip to Cloudsdale is to stretch these wings out! Yup! Stretch them waaaaaaaay out! And... uhm..." I spin around, fling the envelope into my mouth, and grind my hooves at the doorframe to her cottage. "Mmmf... Gotta fly!" The sound barrier breaks around me after I've barely cleared the roof of the forest edging her home.

"I look forward to seeing you later!" I somehow hear her say below me in spite of all the thunder.

Ohhhhhh I am so gone...

That confident and... uhm... nice mare who treats me like a priceless doll

Rainbow Dash is gone, and everything is just... quiet. I like quiet. Quiet is nice.

I close the door softly behind her. I am alone with the gentle stirring of my furry friends. Oh, how I adore their silent pattering movements and humble munching sounds. There are so many precious creatures in this world and not enough ponies with the time and patience to take care of them appropriately. I have spent so many long years trying to change that, and every time I see my animal companions' smiling faces and wriggling whiskers—like right now—it makes it all worth it. Life is so peaceful and precious, so long as you have the tranquility to sit back and cherish it. Yes, I do so very much enjoy quiet.

I hum a simple melody as I go about my chores. The quiet isn't so much disturbed as it takes on a new shape. I sing in order to praise silence, not to shatter it. My friends couldn't possibly be happier. They prance all around me. With food in their soft tummies, they crawl into the nooks and crannies of the place and curl up to sleep, smiling, listening to my voice. There are ponies who say that I am not talkative; that couldn't be further from the truth. I simply like to speak in a harmonious voice that isn't meant for equine ears.

Oh... Oh dear. That sounded rather boastful, didn't it? I'd better be careful, there. I don't want to be too full of myself. There's no reason for my head to get so big, after all.

I don't realize how much time has passed until I look up from mopping the floor and see the short hand of my clock striking the number four. Oh goodness, I really do let myself get swept away in... sweeping don't I? Maybe if I sang less, time would go slower. Just what was I planning to do with my afternoon? Dinner is with the girls in about four hours. I usually need at least two hours to meditate and compose myself before I'm ready to go to a scheduled dinner. Rainbow Dash says all the time that she tends to get out of her bed—er, her cloud—about ten minutes before reporting to the weather fliers' office for morning duty. I really don't know how an adult pony can do that and get away with it. But, that's Rainbow Dash. She has everything together. And me? I can barely stand up straight half the time—

Eeep! Oh goodness! Oh goodness, what has just tapped my left leg?! I thought I was alone—Oh. "Oh, it's you, Angel." I exhale with relief and lean down to smile at my favorite furry friend. "Did you get some yummy lettuce in your tummy today like I asked you to?"

He's frowning at me. He seems to like doing that a lot lately. Well, uhm... okay, now he's tapping his foot against the floorboard and motioning with his paw.

"What is it, Angel?" I shuffle across the room after his bouncing, white figure. "Is there something wrong with your bed?"

As he brings me over to the tiny mattress, he flings the small duvet off and stretches the fabric out before me with an angry expression. Oh, I really don't like it when he's upset. Half the time, I can't even understand why.

"Do you not like your blanket?" I ask, my eyes swarming over the illustrated carrot patterns. "Does it need to go through another wash? I rinsed and dried it just yesterday..."

He stomps his foot again, frowns with a bucked tooth, and points at a gaping hole in the center—Oh! Oh my. That's a very large tear in the fabric indeed.

"How did this happen?" I ask as I take the duvet from him and run my hooves over its torn shape. "Moths? Parasprites? Pinkie Pie?"

He merely frowns and folds his upper arms impatiently.

I can already feel my blush coming along. It's terrible to turn red and not be able to do anything about it. I hope someday that I'll overcome that. But, it's very hard to, I suppose.

"Well, of course I will get this fixed for you," I say. "But the problem, Angel, is that I don't have all of my sewing tools with me at the moment. I lent them to Twilight last week. I... suppose I could ask for them all back, or go into town to buy some more..."

Suddenly, my blush is delayed, because the next breath that comes from me is the happiest I've felt all day. Oh, yes. Yes, of course. I know what to do. I know what to do and it is the most delightful thing imaginable.

"B-but I know a pony in town who would be more than able to fix this!" I say. It sounds like a squeak. Angel hears it, and all he can do is run a defeated paw across his nose. "Oh. Uhm. Don't worry. I promise not to stay there... too long..."

I guess I should be waiting for Angel's response. I should be making sure that he's conveyed all he wants to me. He can get so temperamental when I don't do things to his perfect specifications. But I'm feeling daring, I suppose. That happy breath that went through me is still carrying me around, like a balloon made out of smiles and giggles and sighs—the good ones, at least. Soon, I've slipped the damaged duvet in a saddlebag and am trotting away from the cottage.

It's already the late afternoon, and yet the sun feels so nice and bright. Oh, what a delightful little town I live in, right on the edge of the country, where the wilderness is not too wild and civilization is... just civil enough, I suppose. I really am lucky, but not half as much as I am cheerful... cheerful to be crossing the lengths of town, cheerful to be trotting up to the Boutique doorstep, cheerful to be ringing the doorbell and sitting down, waiting for her spotless face and elegant voice.

Waiting... Waiting... Waiting...

And, like white sails over the ocean horizon, she drifts into view. I am already smiling. There's such an alabaster sheen to her coat, so immaculate and spotless, and yet she looks at me as if I'm the priceless pony made out of porcelain, and not her.

"Fluttershy, darling! What an exquisite delight! What brings you to my Boutique this fine afternoon?"

I bite the tiniest edge of my inner lips. She called me 'gorgeous!' She called me 'gorgeous!' She called me...

"Oh, uhm... H-Hello, Rarity." No. Don't be natural. You are so weak and clumsy when you act natural. "Ahem. Greetings." Be assertive. She tells you that you must work on that all the time; if you act like your normal self, she will feel as though you have dismissed all of her hard coaching. "Would you—erm—be so kind as to fix this hole I found in Angel's blanket just now?" Hold your breath. Hold it. Oh please, hold it. I know what's going to happen if you don't hold—"Erm, that is, if y-you don't mind, and if it's not getting in the way of your preparations for the get together tonight." I am grimacing. How would I not be? Fluttershy, you just can't do anything right around her, can you?

And yet, Rarity is gracious. Rarity is genuous. Rarity is simply smiling at me "Oh, but of course, Fluttershy! Anything for you and your charming animal acquaintances." She gives a tiny, flighty chortle, and that's how I know—as I always know—that she is not laughing at me, like most ponies, but at the words she chooses so daintily to dab my ears with. I realize that this is a unicorn who loves the artistic details in life, and it delights me that she so ardently shares them with me. "Do come in, dearie. You are always welcome in my work room."

I trot in through her door, trying not to faint from all the sweet smells and perfumes of her life swirling down to caress me. I feel my heart beating, for I know that I am about to see a fabulous new dress and hear about Rarity's latest exploits in fashion. For the life of me, I can't pretend to know which I look forward to the most. To keep from collapsing, I take a huge breath and try to speak solidly, "It is just so... nice in here." Oh goodness, do I truly, only know that one word?

"I'm glad you think so, darling. It's even nicer when you're around," she says with a blue-shadowed wink. Rarity closes the door and trots gaily ahead of me. "A boutique's elegant trimmings means nothing unless there's a lady of refinement inside who earns the attention. I've said it before and I'll say it again, you're the finest mare I've ever had the opportunity of complementing with my threads."

"Mmmm..." I do all I can to keep my vocal cords still. I'm feeling the redness forming beneath my skin already. I will be a living beet in less than ten minutes, I'm guessing.

Why does Rarity do this to me? Why does she say such things? All my life, I never felt so special, so cherished. And then I met her, and suddenly it was like I had become an angel. I know I don't deserve it. I really don't. The only reason ponies do and say special things like this is if the subjects of their attention mean something special to their lives. So then, what have I done for Rarity? How is it that I became such a close friend to her so easily, as if I didn't even need to try? Is it just her generosity? But, then, how does a pony donate emotion? And even if that was true, why hasn't she spent as much time and given as much attention to the likes of Twilight or Applejack? Now those, we all know, are good and deserving ponies.

I just... I just do not understand. But then, she looks at me from where she stands behind a silken purple gown laced with mahogany ribbons. With a single smile thrown my way, I realize that I do not have to understand, because this is Rarity, and Rarity means... the whole world to me.

"This is the latest ensemble I am working on," Rarity says with a proud smirk. It's next to impossible to tell where her snow white face ends and her pearlescent teeth begin. "You're the first pony to see it, of course. I rarely trust the taste of most of my friends to see a project before it is finished, but yours I can always take a healthy dosage of, dear. So... Hmmm?" She leans towards me, fluttering her lashes like no other mare can do. "What do you think of it so far?"

"Oh, Rarity, it's... it's..." I see her, I can smell her. If I leaned forward slightly, I might even inhale her. I realize that I should be commenting on her dress right now, but I fear that I will not be very objective. But that matters little. It's Rarity's work, and everything she touches turns to threaded gold. I know this, and I believe in this. The universe needs no other constant. "It is so very pretty. I like your color choice. It gives the gown a very... exotic mystique."

"Eeee..." She squeals like a little filly, the tiniest of disturbances in her elegant exterior. We are all squirming, anxious little foals deep inside, and Rarity's soul is the cutest of all, especially since she goes to such lengths to hide it. It feels sometimes as though she's given herself an unnecessarily difficult exercise, to try so hard with every ounce of her being to be something more refined and aristocratic than she truly is. I do not find her endeavors to be comical, not in the least. I am so incredibly inspired by her confidence, her poise, her fearless respect for herself first and foremost.

I... I could certainly use that confidence. I know it, and I know that she knows it. Just spending time with me is the greatest act of generosity she can bestow, because ever so slowly—one glorious day after another—she is helping me to understand confidence, because she is helping me to understand her.

"I am glad that you approve of it, darling," she says, speaking of a dress that I must have looked at centuries ago before absorbing myself in the blue shine of her eyes. "I've been laboring ever so delicately over the past week to perfect it. If I may be so bold to say so, I do believe this may be my finest single work yet!"

I want to tell her that she is absolutely right, and yet absolutely wrong. The finest work is our friendship, an artistic masterpiece that she deserves full claim to, because Rarity ever so gently reached her hoof out to me—like a dancer—and ignored all the cloudy shades of my anxious aloofness to bring me into the light of her radiance. I want to tell her how much it means to me that I mean so much to her. I want to tell her how I no longer go to sleep in tears, woeful over the lonely breaths that the next morning would bring. I want to tell her that I've found reasons to smile when beforehand I could only sigh and wonder when my life would change, would become as splendid as it is now, so sparklingly brilliant, like how her words have polished the jaded surfaces of my heart.

But I can't tell her all these things. No, I can't put such a burden of knowledge on her. She is her own mare, and I am simply her best friend. She would surely be distraught by the degree to which I have thought about and fixated on her. No... There's no need to complicate her life so much. After all, she isn't looking for more from me than I've already provided. She has her career. She has her dreams and aspirations. She has... mmm... the st-stallion of her dreams that she is hoping will someday sweep her off her hooves.

"Oooh! Ideaaaa!" Rarity chimes, shaking me from a stormy stupor. "You are just the perfect size for a gown such as this, Fluttershy!" Her eyes curve from the rise of her smiling lips as she leans towards me. "Would you be so kind as to model it for me? Only for an hour or so? It would help me put the finishing touches on it, and your figure is simply too perfect for me to let pass by! Nopony else would do!"

"Oh Rarity..." I pretend to be shy about it. Normally, I don't have to fake humility, but around Rarity, I can't help but feel a little... mmm... selfish, I suppose. After all, I just wish to see the look. I will do anything, if only to get the look. "I couldn't possibly expect to wear such an exquisite gown! It's far too delicate for me. What if I accidentally tear it?"

"Too delicate for you, Fluttershy?! Oh, perish the thought! You are nothing less than a graceful angel!" And then she does it. She gives me the look, that desperate, pouting, pleading look. It is now that I know that there's a priceless niche in her life, and it was as though I was born to fit inside it. I don't think it's possible to feel more special, more lucky, more... confident? Yes. Yes, I am so very confident to be here for Rarity now.

"Alright, Rarity. If you insist..." I exhale, as if I had been holding my breath for the past hour just to reach this moment.

"Eeee-heee-hee!" She squeals, again with the breath of that tiny, happy foal hidden beneath her purple mane. "Oh thank you! Thank you, darling! You have absolutely saved my work! I truly, truly mean it! Here, let me take that from your hooves..."

Her horn glows, and she lifts Angel's blanket from my grasp. I had entirely forgotten that I was holding it until just now. What a silly little excuse to use as a ticket to reach this heaven.

"Hmmm—A simple tear," she remarks while examining the duvet up close. "A seamstress such as myself could patch this up in grade school whilst wearing a silken blindfold." She gives a flippant laugh. The sound of it is so rich, so proud, so deliciously arrogant. I instantly envy her. "But of course I will tend to this with the utmost care and professional attention!" She waves at me as she trots towards the opposite end of the Boutique where her sewing machine lies. "Allow me to get started. In the meantime, why don't you try on the gown? Don't feel as though you must hurry, darling. We have quite some time before the reception at Sugarcube Corner, after all."

"Okay..." I can never speak much when I am around her, and yet I can never say enough. The very moment I think of a complicated expression of endearment, my lungs give out. It's a great deal easier simply to do what she says, especially when she asks so politely, so gently, so lovingly. I treat the dress with just as much amorous caution, slipping my limbs and hooves in as if I'm about to wear the most fragile of clouds. I take as much time and care as she would want of me. Time goes by slowly, and even slower as I hear her hooves returning. Then, with a delightful gasp, she coos my way—

"Ooooh, how fabulous! I can tell already that this gown is going to be breathtaking!" She smiles as her eyes fall into a thin, ocean-blue stare. "Of course, it's hard to have a truly discerning eye when the model herself is simply so dazzling..."

"Uhm... I-I'm sorry," I say almost immediately, wincing at myself for doing so.

"Ohhhh puh-lease," she says with a roll of her eyes and a wave of her hoof. "You really must accept compliments more, Fluttershy. I swear, sometimes I don't know how long I must continue gushing until you do." Another flighty giggle, and she's tugging me gently onto the top of a circular stage.

"Who is the dress for?"

"Oh, erm..." She fidgets the edges of her cheek catching aflame for the briefest of moments. With a deep breath, she chortles and waves her way past the thought. "An acquaintance, darling, nothing more. Sometimes I think that the destination of a true work of art is not nearly as fabulous as the lengths one sews to bring it into fruition. But 'tis neither here nor there. I'd much rather relish how lucky I am to be blessed with your priceless assistance right now..."

"Uhm... Okay..." I speak, and then I speak no more, for this is not my moment. This is Rarity's, now and forever. The Boutique has turned into a theatre, and the show consists of her soliloquies, beautiful and elaborately woven tapestries of the most resplendent life in all of Ponyville, if not Equestria itself. I hear her talk of affluent circles of ponies she's crossed paths with in Canterlot. I hear of the horrendously vicious gossip that plagues the fashion scene, of rich celebrities both snobby and altruistic, of charity auctions and fashion shows and cocktail parties. I hear about ridiculously silly commissions she's had to sew for, outrageous customers she's had to endure, and all the beautifully generous plans she has for her friends, including me.

"And so I was thinking of a thick, woolen ensemble," Rarity says. "For when winter arrives and you wish to be donned in something that is more practical than ornate. Though, with your dainty features, dear, I'm more than certain that you can make any coat of utility look like a royal gown. Hmmm-heeheehee."

She speaks while she orbits around me, shuffling on dainty white hooves, putting the finishing touches on the gown wrapped about my weak body like a silken cocoon, or a fancy ribbon of a Hearth's Warming gift. I feel like I am her little present to herself, a treasure indulged in by the angel of generosity, and it fills me with such joy and awe that no matter how much I try and compliment her in my mind, she only dwarfs it with how much she selflessly praises me out loud, with beauty and grace that I can only ever hope to bravely mimic someday.

"And so," Rarity continues. "Once I am finished with the wintry coats, I have to start working on a rather daunting project. You see, Sapphire Shores has written to me yet again. Eeee!—Yes! We are deeply close pen pals at this point! I am so incredibly lucky to be connected to the veritable hemispheres of such a pop culture icon! Ahem. Anyways, she wants me working on a new line of spring outfits for her upcoming tour across western Equestria. So, in honor of her opening concert in Las Pegasus, I thought of emulating the desert motifs of Appleloosa. I sketched a simple design and shared it with her! And do you know what Sapphire Shores said?!"

"What did she say, Rarity?"

"She said that it brought a tear to her eye! Ah! Isn't that just amazing?! She wrote that she had lived part of her foalhood in a desert mining town, and something about the 'elegant simplicity' of my design brought back a wave of innocent nostalgia! She's already ordered five dresses based on my initial sketch alone! Can you believe it? I, Rarity, have impressed the sensational Sapphire Shores in a single pen-stroke! Just imagine how much of an impact I could have on the likes of such stars like Nicolt Kidmare or Gwen Stefilly, especially if Sapphire spreads news of my expertise with her valiantly conquered enthusiasm!"

"Oh Rarity," I exhale, smiling softly, breathing a little less so. "That is so... nice! I feel so happy for you!"

"Oh, it's more than nice, darling! It's felicitous! Rapturous! Mesmerizing! Sapphiric! Oh, blessed Celestia, I do believe I am running out of words!" She mocks fainting and teeters back on her rear legs, her face grinning beneath a pair of blue bifocals. I never knew it was possible to look so goofy and charming all at once. Rarity is a surprise that I never want to stop startling me. And... uhm... I don't say that about much. "I feel as though life simply keeps getting better and better, wouldn't you agree?"

I glance at her, and somehow I feel as if my eyes cannot match the warmth with which hers look at me. Perhaps this is all mere friendship to her. Perhaps I am just an object that she needs, like a foal needs a doll or an old mare needs a pet. Perhaps she will never know the degree to which this moment, this very breath and heartbeat, means more to me than all I have ever accomplished for myself ever. Perhaps someday, like a gust of wind, she will break from complimenting me, for she will have found her special somepony, and she will finally have been swept off her hooves in a way that I could never do for her.

But that is okay. Yes, it is alright. If there is any gift that I have, if there is any talent that I can hold dear to, it is my patience. That patience gives me hope, tells me that there is a deep-seeded reason to all of Rarity's generous comments that even she isn't aware of, but only because she has yet to wake up to it. And on the day that she experiences such an epiphany, she will learn that I had my own awakening ages ago, on the very afternoon that she first ever reached a hoof over to caress mine, only to touch my heart instead.

That is the day that I will tell you everything, Rarity. You will know how dearly I love you, with a love that is gentler and softer than what mere words can say, a love that knows how to smile in the shadows and be still in the daylight, for that love is anchored to you, shaped by you, and patched together by your delicate hooves whenever the brazen but brief claws of doubt try in vein to tear it asunder. That is a love that knows how to wait patiently for perfection, as a masterful artist is apt to design, and as a connoisseur of such a masterpiece is destined to respect. And you have made me, Rarity. Like a fine dress, you have sewn me into the luckiest connoisseur of all, for I am bestowed with your presence, your grace, and your charm like no other pony in the history of this world or the next. How can I ever, ever summon the strength to tell you how happy, thankful, and complete I feel?

"Hmmm?" Rarity has paused, fluttering her eyes at me, for several seconds have passed and still her answer hasn't been answered. "Don't you think so? That life only gets better and better, darling?"

"Oh... Oh yes... uhm... if you say so, Rarity." I give her my reply. It's the closest thing to a kiss that I will settle for.

And now my cheeks are finally red.

That innocent little pony from Canterlot whom I *absolutely* adore

That innocent little pony from Canterlot whom I *absolutely* adore

"So long, Fluttershy!" I wave from the entrance to my Boutique as she trots away, her simply ravishing coat matching the painterly yellows of the setting sun all around her. "I will see you in about an hour and a half, darling! Don't be late!"

"Oh, I-I would never think of it, Rarity," she calls back in that quiet, angelic voice of hers. "I... uhm... I look forward to having supper together. I really do. And... uhm... thank you for fixing Angel's blanket."

"Any time of any day, dearie! And thank you so much for assisting me in my latest project!"

I think Fluttershy says something else, or maybe she's just squeaking through one of her bashful smiles as she most often does. I can't tell at this point, obviously, for I must say, I'm rather preoccupied. Oh, how these delicate hooves of mine can't stop shaking! I simply cannot believe it: the gown is already finished! I thought it would take weeks to get the bodice right, much less all the ribbons and frills! Leave it to Fluttershy to arrive at the precise moment when I am in most need of inspiration. She really is such a doll. I hope she takes all of my encouragement to heart and reconsiders going into modeling, the humble dear. I fear that she has burned far too many bridges since she severed all professional relationships with Foto Finish. With the right amount of support, I truly believe she can achieve fame without all of the negative side effects she so illogically abhors.

Blessed Celestia! I cannot simply stand here! The sun is setting! What time is it?—Oh! It is almost seven o'clock! Good heavens, have I really been that preoccupied? I barely have any time between now and the social gathering, and here I am, a sweaty, disheveled, and uncouth mess! Ohhhh, I had hoped that I might present this gown with time to spare, and now that I have the opportunity, I can barely stand straight! Oh, what a disaster! To think that I put all of my heart and soul into such an undertaking, only to be penultimately curtailed by absent-mindedness!

Now just relax, Rarity. Take even breaths like your therapist tells you to. Mmm... Yes, that's it. There is no need to get your mane in such a pirouette. Stay calm. I know it usually takes you two hours to get properly ready for a special event. You have the grand total of... twenty minutes to prepare yourself and still have time to spare before the gathering. Mmmm... Daunting, I know, but think of all the fruitful benefits if you do this as swiftly and punctually as you had originally planned!

Simply be calm. Take one hoofstep after another. Yes, that's it. Fold the dress up all neatly and delicately. Place it in the package and gently apply the ribbon. Hmmmm... to perfume the gift or not to? Ew, good grief, of course not! What are you even thinking?! She will get the worst possible idea from that! Ahem... You're simply overwhelmed with the odor of a long day of tireless work.

Let us tackle that now, shall we? Just a quick rinse will do. Your mane is fine; let us keep it dry while you make your gentle coat spotless. Oh! Oh dear, too little t-time for a w-warm shower. By the ashen winds of Tartarus—Oh! Whew... Alright, then. Now dry yourself up. Just a smattering of make-up. You must make yourself pleasantly presentable; no need to doll yourself up like some ghastly filly of the night. Oh, don't forget the eyelashes. You know how she's always complimented you about them. One of these days, I swear, you must ask her about them. It must be no mere coincidence that she's engaged you in more than one conversation on the topic. Hmmm-Heeheehee... "engaged."

Oh! It's ten minutes after seven! No more distractions! I don't care how melodic her voice is when you think about it. I don't care how cute and bashful her smile is, or the way her eyes curve and squint whenever she laughs, as if she's navigating a terrible blizzard just to march her delicate self into your loving forelimbs—

Ungh! You are impossible, Rarity! You imbecilic, incurable dreamer, you! Get it together, or if Celestia is my witness I shall pack your bags and send you to an oasis far away from Ponyville so that you may finally exorcise the entirety of these paralyzing, tantalizing thoughts! I thought we had gone over this! You are a professional, an artist, a public icon—or, at least—an icon in the making. You must learn to concentrate, to think rationally. Never mind the fact that we know that there is one unicorn whose skills and strengths and overall poise shall always overshadow yours. The day that you woke up and realized that her unwitting superiority was no longer an issue was the day that a bright and shining beacon was lit deep inside you, and now is not the time to snuff it out, but instead to allow the lighthouse to shine so that you may find smooth seas to navigate in the dark.

Oh goodness, listen to me: must I always break into metaphors when I am at my wit's end? There was a time when I had more self-respect, not to mention a firmer grasp of my thoughts. They have since been dashed to bits, and I swear that she and she alone can piece them back together. She is a miracle-worker, after all, Equestria's one and only sorceress of destiny. Oh, how very blessed and privileged you are to live in the same town as her! And to think that she calls you "friend?" You would be her humble servant in a heartbeat if she let you. To think, after all of these years of scaling society's elite ladder, you would immediately and gladly fall to your knees to rinse her hooves with your finest champagne, even drying them with your mane if you so could.

Alas, I am melodramatic as always. Celestia help me, every time I think of her, hear her, or even see her, I would give anything for her to ask that she spend an entire day with me, in a way that she would never care to request such from the rest of our charming little circle of compatriots. It's not that I don't care for my other friends. I... admire them, of course. But do I cherish them? Stars above, there is only one soul in all the world I would be enamored to hold dear, and I don't know what excites me more: the fact that she's so close to me that she doesn't suspect it, or the fact that someday I am willing to take her hooves in mind and confess the whole weight of my joy into her darling, blushing face.

Heee-eeee... What a delightful occasion that would be, the day that I bestow upon her the unfettered lengths of my sincere adulation. There is no doubt that she would be beside herself with surprise. Shock? Perhaps so. Disgust? I dearly hope not. However, there are risks that I must anticipate, that I must prepare my fragile ego for. But, whatever the future holds, I shall anticipate it with the grace of a ballerina about to embark upon her final minuet. She is quite simply a prize that is too precious to give up. The world can have all of its gemstones. History can store all of its legends. Life is a short and sweet pageant, and I know—beyond the shadow of a doubt—that I have found my one and only dance partner.

Hmmmm... What a fantastic scent the air about Ponyville has, now that the intolerably hot summer sun has descended. I think I just left the Boutique ten minutes ago; it feels like a veritable century has gone by. I know that it's only tasteful to take my sweet time, to navigate the streets and alleyways of this town slowly, so as not to dirty the clean shine I had just restored my coat to. I suppose there's another purpose to this slow pace. Even a lady of my popular standings hereabouts has a bundle of nerves to carefully sort out, and the closer that the town library's branching structure looms into view, the harder it becomes to straighten the tangles in my convoluted spirit.

Still, I know—somehow, I know—that just seeing her face will clear everything, like a gentle breeze sweeping the sidewalk of cluttering leaves. And perhaps—yes—the gift that I have to bequeath her will bring a placid smile to the surface of her soul just the same.

I reach the door to the treehouse, take a deep breath, and ring the bell. If this was just any other evening, I would consider this late and untimely visit to be downright uncivil. Thankfully, though, there is soiree planned within the hour, and if I'm to make any impression on her at all, it is best to be fashionably early as opposed to fashionably late. Surely she won't take it the wrong way. Surely, she won't...

Oh dear Celestia, would she? Mmmm...

The door opens; my fears are instantly dissuaded. Oh, be steady, my beating heart! She is such a doll! Look at her: that innocent glint to her eyes, that plain yet refined manestyle, that twitch to her lavender cheeks as she takes half a second to register me and... yes? Yes! Oh, such a felicitous smile she has! I could simply die!

"Why, hello, Rarity!" Twilight Sparkle chirps. "What brings you here? I thought the get together wasn't until another forty minutes from now?"

I smile. I take a deep breath. I open my mouth. "I know, but I felt like—Hckkt! Koff! Koff!" Aaah! Dust! So much dust! What is this?!

"You okay?!" She winces, her cheeks becoming slightly rosy. "Oh, uhhh... eh heh. My apologies." She opens the door all the way and walks half a foot out, revealing the lengths to which a fine sheen of dust is currently clinging to her flank and tail. "I just came from sorting through a bunch of old book, and I completely forgot about your allergies, Rarity. I... uhm... I'll just go wash up really quick and—"

"No! Koff-Koff! Do not leave me—Koff! What I mean, is..." I wince, my eyes tearing. Oh heavens, I already feel a rash forming at the far end of my hooves! I just got a pony pedi two days ago! Oh! This is absolutely... absolutely...

"You sure that you're okay, Rarity?" Her eyes glimmer in the melting crimson of the west horizon.

Absolutely rapturous...

"Oh Twilight," I exhale, bearing a drunken smile. I just know it is. "I came by early to surprise you with something..."

"Surprise me, huh?" She smirks and raises an eyebrow, craning her neck to get a better look at the package levitating behind me. "Rarityyyyy," she drones, that adorable little voice of her clicking like Opalescence having just discovered a mound of cat nip. "You shouldn't have..."

"But I declare that the ship has already sailed, darling!" I stand up straight with an upwards tilt of my nose. This is my gift to her, a decision I had committed myself to ages ago. There's more than one mare capable of stubborn sincerity in this town. I, at least, have the edge of experience in asserting my generosity over her humility. Besides, I have other tricks: "However, if you are in no mood to receive a mere token of my affection, then so be it. I shall wait until a day or two after our scheduled dinner—"

"Oh no! Please! Don't think that I'm ungrateful!" she exclaims. She pleads. "Come right in! I'd love to see what you brought, Rarity! What good friend wouldn't?"

I smile gently at her as I trot my dainty way into her abode. Ah, yes, how deliciously predictable you can be, Twilight. The occasion when I have to second guess you is the day I'll know I have breached the permeable barriers of pretense between us. But, as for now, your innocence is something far too addictive to not attempt sculpting or teasing, like a foalish makeover during one of those "slumber parties" that you're so infatuated with.

Good gracious, it truly is dusty in here! Perhaps she was thinking in my best interest when she hesitated in welcoming me inside. All of these stacks of books and time-stained periodicals! Bah! Is this what she always does within an hour of attending a weekly get-together?

"I just about had everything ready to bring to Sugarcube Corner tonight when I realized I was missing an old book about obscure culinary dishes of the Lunar Empire. The topic of Whinniepeg customs isn't nearly as taboo today as it was before Nightmare Moon returned and became Princess Luna once again. I think the girls would enjoy a dissertation on ancient unicorn recipes for stellar stew. What do you think?"

"I... I think..." Careful, Rarity. Be calm and considerate of her ideas. Well, of course, you're always considerate of her ideas. But you could stand to display the affectionate nature of your interest a great deal more. You admire Twilight for her knowledge as well as her personality. After all, it is so very much a large part of who and what she is. "I think it's absolutely fascinating, darling!" Yes. Smile. Just like that. Ohhh, fantastic! She's blushing so adorably already! Keep it going... "Only you would have the grace and wherewithal to educate the world on time-forgotten treasures. We've known each other for almost two years, Twilight, and still you're proving to me just how and why you became the Princess' most treasured student."

"Jee, Rarity..." She digs at the wooden floor with her hoof. Her ears droop, and heaven help me if I don't want to push them back up, nuzzling them one delicate lobe after another. "I'm glad to know that somepony appreciates the amount of research I do. I'm so scared of boring you girls sometimes..."

"Boring?!" Boring?! Bah! "Bah! You are the spark of our lives, dear. Don't even pretend to claim otherwise..." The world flickers on and off. Oh, I must be fluttering my eyes. I really must work on restraining that. Erm... or perhaps not. Is she smiling more? Alas, she is! Okay, time to seize the opportunity. "But enough idle chat!" I smile immaculately while levitating the package brightly her way. "Do take a look, Twilight. Though you may wish to sit yourself down while you do."

She's already resting her haunches on the floor as she telekinetically grasps the present from me. Oh, Twilight, you are so delightfully literal, I could just kiss you. Eeep! She's opening it! Watch her eyes... Watch her eyes!

"Oh Rarity..." Her breath comes out in a priceless exhale. The drop of her jaw matches the lengths of the dress as she pulls the mahogany and violet ensemble out of the ornate container. "It... It is absolutely amazing!"

"Hmmm... Isn't it though?" I grin and lean her way. "Do you like the colors? I think they most perfectly match your mane."

"You... You didn't!" She looks at me. And I think—yes—her eyes are watering. Oh dear heaven... "This is so incredibly beautiful, and... and you crafted it for me?"

I feel my hoof playing with the lengths of my purple bangs. "'Crafted' is such a plebeian term, darling," I say. "I like to think that I perched myself upon a bank of silk, dove in, and simply... swam my way to an island of inspiration, as t'were." I giggle, a little too brusquely for my own good, but I have stopped caring several seconds ago. "I realized as I was making it that there was no other unicorn in Equestria worthy of owning such a thing besides sweet, gentle, Canterlot-cultured you. Heehee..."

The room is alive with the color of Twilight's rosy cheeks, and I couldn't be let down even if Discord came back and destroyed the world now or thirty seconds from now. It was all worth it just to reach this moment, this look of absolute bewilderment on Twilight's face. Could she deserve such a token of creativity and affection? Could she—a humble and studious librarian—be the receiver of something so immeasurably detailed that it could only be fit for a pony of royalty?

Oh yes, Twilight. Oh yes, you could, you absolute, unassuming angel. Since the day that you and I first met, I knew that you deserved no less than the entire world. And I do not refer to the occasion when we allied ourselves together to salvage the Elements of Harmony and defeat Nightmare Moon. I exclusively refer to those precious few months afterwards, the days of delicate discovery, when we met alone for tea and biscuits and talked about our lives, discovering how uniquely different yet undeniably fragile we both were.

I had an ambitious career to pursue. I sought fame and fortune, as well as the chance for all ponies throughout the land to know of my talents. But you? You've been to the top of that mountain, darling. You've been the pupil to Princess Celestia. You've seen all of the priceless sights of Canterlot Castle that I've dreamed of so much as glimpsing all my young life. And now, what is it that you seek? What is it that you pursue so desperately, that it nearly brought you to tears the first day that we had a heartfelt conversation, and I fell terribly, irreversibly in love with you?

You wish to be alive. You seek to be accepted. You desire to be a friend, an acquaintance, a lover—all of the things that would make you normal. Before I met you, I thought "normal" was a blemish, a plague, a thing to regret calling oneself. But you've taught me differently, Twilight, with your humility and your quiet desperation to win the hearts of those around you and subsequently hold them tight in your sweet, sweet forelimbs. Your quest in life is something that defines you, and not an obligation to the Princess like so many other equines are apt to believe.

And I am so incredibly blessed to be a part of your path toward discovery. But, oh, how I desire so much more. How like a doll you are to me, a sweet creature of innocence that just begs to be showered with affection. I know that we are only a winter and a half apart from one another, Twilight, but I cannot help but feel like I have existed for centuries while you've barely crawled through decades of living. How terribly long your days must have been, tortuously lonesome days, where all you had for companionship were your own journals and the dusty halls of Celestia's archaic chambers. How long have you bottled up your need to laugh, to cry, to smile, to sob, and to do all of those dear things in the comforting embrace of another soul?

I can be that embrace, Twilight. I can be that blessed and redeeming warmth. I have a good mind to hug you and not let go for millennia. Heaven help me, I'd take you by the hoof and lead you across the ballroom floor of life, teaching you all the lessons you need to know on culture, civility, etiquette, affluence, politics, philanthropy, and—yes, heehee—even friendship. But of course.

Because why else are you here, Twilight? Why do you live in this very town, astonishing us all with your otherworldly magic, blessing us with your innumerable talents, unless you truly, deeply feel that all of your epic gifts can be outshone by that which ponies like myself have to offer you? There are the givers and the receivers, Twilight. Don't you see that we are made for each other? Don't you see how terribly afflicted with amorous joy I am when we're simply in the same room together? How long must I go about this awkward dance, giving every tiny bit of myself to you, until the entire layer is threaded away from around my soul and you get to see the final and most intimate gift of all?

"I..." Twilight's voice wavers slightly, and I am thunderously brought back to reality, standing precariously upon the edge of her moistening eyes. "I just don't know what to say..."

I love her, but I do not wish to crush her. The weight is so huge—the pressure of all I have to give her is threatening to burst out of me in a single, cacophonous explosion. "A simple 'thank you, Rarity,' will do." I take a deep breath. "But all I truly need from you is a smile."

And just like that, she gives it, and I realize in a heartbeat that I am not the true Element of Generosity at all. Twilight is, simply for being alive, simply for allowing me to share the same air as her. And then she leans in and hugs me, and I know that life cannot be more dazzling than this.

"What have I done to be this lucky?" she murmurs against me. "To have a friend as beautiful and giving as you?"

Oh stars, I will melt! First I will die, then I will melt, and then the parts of me that haven't melted will be born again just to die die and finish the job! Heee! Oh, she's trembling, the poor dear! It's alright, Twilight. It's alright to be so happy. Just accept it, accept it all and be alive...

"What did I say earlier, dearie?" I nuzzle her, like a mother would embrace her foal. Sometimes the most blissful distance is the safest one. I part our hug and smile into her gaze. "The color matches your mane. The dress was meant for you before I even made it."

"I wish I could show you how thankful I am," she says, then brightens. "Oh! Heehee... I know! I could totally wear it tonight! What better way to show off your skill and generosity than to get our friends to appraise it?"

Instantly, I wince. "Erm... that... m-may not be the most fruitful of ideas."

She looks hurt. "Oh?"

"Wh-what I mean is..." I smile nervously. I feel my heart palpitating. Just think these words through, Rarity. You haven't thought much of anything carefully lately, but at least be discreet right here, right now. If you can be flustered over Twilight, you surely can be centered about her as well. "It's not just any ordinary party dress, darling. Why, it's something meant for the most elegant and regal of occasions. Surely, by next year's gala, you will have something worth showing off the upper elite of Canterlot, will you not?" I add the last bit with a sparkling wink.

It seems to have worked. "Oh, well that makes a lot of sense." She smiles crookedly. Sometimes I think that Twilight isn't used to grinning. She most often resembles a filly on her first date. Good grief, why am I dizzy all of the sudden? "The material you made this with is just so amazing! Now that I think about it, I simply can't see myself wearing it to anything less than a special event at the Royal Palace!"

I laugh airily. My insides are full of dancing froth. Oh, what a charming occasion that would be—for the two of us, I mean. Her in her gown and myself in my own frills. We'd be the belles of the ball, charming the crowd with her sweetness and royal connections and with my artistic flair and social grace. We'd complement each other, like opposite ends of a glimmering star. Oh, if only she'd allow me the dreamy opportunity of treating her like the absolute princess she was always meant to be, never mind the alicorn sisters she's attached to.

But, alas, how could that ever happen? How could I expect her to grace such a brazen invitation with a straight face? She would think that I was making a terrible joke at her expense. It's a horribly deep pit that I have burrowed for myself, after all. I am always going on elaborate tirades about "him," about the stallion that will carry me to heavenly levels of social and emotional ecstasy. I suppose it started as a nervous tick, a means of denying openly that which was too precious a thought to be true, but now I feel with every fiber of my being. It seems tragically fitting that the lasting barricades between Twilight and myself are the ones that I have so foolishly erected.

And yet, perhaps in a way, it is all for the best. The key to generosity, I feel, is to give up oneself, even one's hopes and dreams, especially if it means that the pony I care about is absolutely happy, without risk.

Looking into Twilight's face, seeing her leaning precariously between tears and laughter, I know beyond the shadow of a doubt that she is truly, undeniably happy. How despotic and cruel it would be of me to shatter that?

One day, Twilight. One day, I will be selfish, and you will see that the only pony I have ever wanted to dance with, to share the day with, to spend the cool starry bliss of the night with, is you. But until then, be happy with your gifts, for they are but a piece of the amorous whole I have yet to give. And maybe someday, when the stars align, and the spark in your eyes returns full circle, you will give yourself back just as dearly.

Until then... hmmmm... a mare can dream.

"Well, if you insist, Rarity," Twilight speaks, coaxing me back to the breath of the moment. "I'll not show this off to the girls. Perhaps sometime later this week you can let me try it on? A dress isn't a dress until it has your seal of approval, after all."

"Oh, Twilight, darling..." I smile as I breathe as I live as I melt. "It is most surely a date!"

That living, bouncing conundrum who makes me laugh and smile

"Well, one thing's for certain!" I gently fold the dress back up and regretfully hide it away in the package that Rarity brought it in. "I'm taking extra special care of this, which means I'm putting it somewhere high up where it's far from the range of Spike's random, violent sneezes. Heehee!"

"Oh... Uhm... How v-very thoughtful of you, Twilight," I hear Rarity say, her tone dull and shifty.

Why does she sound so nervous tonight? It seems like she has a lot on her mind. Oh dear, could something really bad have happened to her recently? Am I missing a personal plea from her to get something off her chest? Uhhhh... It wouldn't be right for me to just wait and assume she'll express herself in front of the girls at dinner, would it? Oh Celestia help me, why can't I get better at reading other ponies' feelings?

"Rarity?" I look her way.

"Y-yes, Twilight?" Her face is very red all of the sudden. Wow, I really forgot hot allergic she can get to dust. Surely there must be some ancient tome on unicorn sinus cures that I've left lying around.

Before I can speak again, something bright is bouncing between us.

"Heya, Rarity!" Pinkie sing-songs. "How's it hanging?!"

"Waa-haa-haa-haaa!" Rarity shrieks in overtly dramatic surprise. Yeesh, it really hurts the ears when she just lets off like that. "Ohhhh my frazzled nerves!" She holds a hoof over her heaving chest. "Pinkie Pie! Were you here the whole time?"

"Noperooni! I was upstairs the whole time! Studying!"

"Studying what, pray-tell?"

"Uhhhh... I dunno." Pinkie Pie blinks over my way with innocent blue eyes. "Is it possible to study the pictures in books, Twi?"

"Heehee..." I grin her way. "Only if you stand to learn from them. Then, sure, I guess you could."

"Woohoo! Great!" Pinkie rears her forelimbs and prances in place. "I just learned an awful lot about mommy and daddy ponies!"

"Ahem." Rarity backtrots, almost stumbling into the doorframe as he makes a semi-graceful exit from the library. "I suppose I should... erhm... stop by Sugarcube Corner early. You know, to make extra sure that our reservations are in order..."

"But, I don't get it!" Pinkie Pie's face scrunches up. "Why wouldn't Mrs. Cake stay true to her promise to Spike—?"

"I-I just need to go! Fresh air is awfully hard to come by these days! Ehhh heh heh! Ahem. Ta-ta, fillies!" And Rarity's gone, bathed in the effluent red glow of the sunset, at least until the door bends shut to obscure her departure.

"What's the dealio with her feelios?" Pinkie blinked at me. "Her village must have been attacked by a bunch of old books and dust bunnies when she was a filly!"

"Heheh... Perhaps you're right."

"Whatever! Hiya, Twilight!" Pinkie bounces.

"Hmmm..." I smile. "Hi, Pinkie."

"Hi again! Heeheehee!" She cavorts around me, her mane and tail full of flounce and color. "How long until it's party time?! I can't wait!"

"About twenty minutes," I say. "And I'd hardly call it a party, Pinkie. We're just getting together to chat and have dinner."

"Any time we spend together is a partyyyy!" Pinkie says with a beaming expression as she makes merry circles around the library. "Because I'm having the bestest time with my bestest friends with the bestest foods! All of those bestests together can't be an accident!"

"Pinkie, 'bestests' isn't even a word," I drone. "Heck, neither is just 'bestest!'"

"Well, if I said 'betterer,' I'd make you think that I was asking for margarine!" She stops to gaze into a scrumptious cloud of thought and drool. "Mmmmmm... margarine..."

I'm giggling yet again. Why can't I hold all this laughter?

"What did Rarity get you? Huh? Huh? Huh?"

"Oh, a very, very gorgeous dress!" I say with a flighty jump to my heart. "I can't believe how lucky I am. I mean, with friends like you and her—"

"Are ya gettin' hitched?!"

"Huh?"

"Well, why else would you have a wedding dress?"

"I... it... Nnngh—It's not a wedding dress, Pinkie!"

"But why wouldn't you want to get married?"

"Ugh..." I lean back against a bookcase and drag a hoof over my brow. "Pinkie..."

"Oooh! I know! It's because every stallion in town is intimidated by Princess Celestia!"

"Huh?! What? I don't even—"

"Cuz if I knew that my mother-in-law could raise the sun, what's to stop her from lifting the roof off the honeymoon suite?!"

"Oh jeez!" I flinch, flushing terribly. I feel like my lungs are going to explode. "Pinkie—!"

"Heeheehee! Ahem... 'Why, hello, Twilight. You'd better be writing a letter to all the incense, candles, and fluttering rose petals, my good and faithful student!'"

"Princess Celestia is my godmother," I grunt in Pinkie's direction while I levitate the package with Rarity's dress to a tall shelf above my work desk. I clear my throat and try to scare the hot blood away from my cheeks. "And anyways, stop teasing me."

"Teasing you?"

"I'm... not exactly ready to start thinking about getting married," I mutter. "Or anything nearly that serious."

"Heehee! Silly filly! Who said getting married had to be serious!"

"Ehhh?" I give her a strange face.

"Falling in love is like baking bread! Give the dough a little heat, and it rises on its own!"

"Ugh, Pinkie..."

"Heehee! No need for all the stance and circumpomp!" She freezes in mid-bounce, her eyes crossing. "Oh... wait..."

"Come on, Pinkie. I gotta find this book on Whinniepeg food recipes. No more talking about marriage."

"Why not?"

“Just because,” my sighing breath says.

I linger in the middle of the room, focusing on the piles of books before me, on the nearest periodical to my grasp, on the shadow that I am making in the candlelight, on just about anything but the sound of her voice, the brightness of her coat, and the sweet, sugary smell wafting off her powdery mane like so many candied sprinkles.

Pinkie Pie is the least serious pony in all of Ponyville. Why is it that I can't just... relax around her? She's only trying to make me feel good, after all, to make me laugh. Heck, a lot of times she succeeds. Heehee... I'm almost in stitches this very moment.

But, it's like I can't feel calm around her. No, that's not it, I don't think. I can't feel... safe around her. What an awful thing to say, really. She's such a good pony, a nice and friendly pony. But every time she bounces past my path, every time she goes out on a limb to make me laugh and smile, I feel my throat clenching up, for fear that something desperate will burst forth... and the absolute last thing it will ever be is a chortle or a guffaw.

It's a wonderful, delightful world that Pinkie Pie lives in. But I wish that I knew that world, that I could understand it like she does, without having to read up on it and do extensive research about it. The world that I know—the world that I think I know—is so much colder, darker, and lonelier. Only now, barely two years into living here in Ponvyille, I am just starting to see the blinding, joyous light of what she and my other friends have grasped all their lives. I'm... not entirely sure how I can handle it all. It seems like so much to grasp all at once, so much to learn and adapt to with the risk of making oneself look like a fool. I'm quite scared, actually. And of all ponies that I know, Pinkie Pie is the last one I want to admit to that I'm frightened.

But then she slides up against me and gives my neck a gentle nuzzle, and I realize just how wrong I've been in the past, and that I could stand to be wrong multiple times in the future.

"Heehee! Cheer up, emoquine!" She smiles with that piercing grin, the same gaze that can tear straight through my heart and leave me sighing instead of bleeding. "Life's all about living! Whether you do it alone or with a special somepony someday, it's all good, so long as you just live it up!"

I smile gently and nod in her direction. "I know that, Pinkie." But do I? I mean really? "Thanks for trying to cheer me up..."

"Anytime, Sparkletastic! Heehee!"

I return to the books, looking desperately for that insanely elusive book, or at least pretending to be searching for it. I wanted to be prepared for this evening. I wanted to have all of my notes together for the dissertation on old unicorn dishes to give to the girls. But, just like always as of late, I'm left frazzled and disorganized, having to pick up the fallen puzzle pieces to my plans, and all of them punched loose in Pinkie Pie-shaped holes.

There's really no reason for Pinkie Pie to be here right now. I was just starting my search for the missing book when she knocked on the door, asking to hang out. She had no excuse, other than the fact that she was bored and would like to be around a friend she cared for. Normally, I would have turned her away, because I was too busy performing my research and other tasks. Well, more appropriately, the old Twilight would have turned her away.

It's come to this. I've determined that there is an "old Twilight" about me, and that I am trying to distance myself from her as much as possible. In the two years since I arrived at Ponyville, I've come to terms with the fact that I'm here to stay. My life has changed. I'm no longer just a young student relocated from Canterlot, eager to report on the magic of friendship. I am... morphing, reshaping myself, fitting into the grooves that I only now realize have been fatefully left for me to fill here.

The "old Twilight" would have had nothing to do with this sort of change. She would have been more than comfortable just settling with the past way of doing things. She'd love to return to the dreary nights of studying alone in the bedroom, not seeing daylight, not even paying Spike much mind. She'd love to see me curling up under the covers, unable to sleep, waiting for the tears to come and drain her until she was exhausted enough to surrender to the shadows of her lonely existence.

No... I don't really care much for "old Twilight." I like it here in Ponyville. I am thrilled and excited by my new life, by having made such amazing friends. I know that I've written to Princess Celestia about it, left and right, up and down, but there aren't enough words to encapsulate what this moment in my existence means to me.

I am... cheerful here. I can laugh. I can cry. I can do all the things I've ever wanted to do, but—what's more—I can do them and not feel ashamed, because every emotion I allow myself to explore is perfectly fine, because I now have the right companions in the right places to show me that's it's perfectly okay. And, what's more, I can just... relax about it, if only I just let myself.

I suppose... no, I know that Pinkie Pie exemplifies this new era in my life more than any other pony I’ve met. The "old Twilight" would have bitten her head off. Regrettably, I've given her the third degree on several occasions for all the same reasons. But I'm starting to get used to her. The point being, I suppose, is that she's the exact kind of friend I've always wanted. I feel embarrassed to admit it, but I think I had an imaginary friend long ago that more or less matched Pinkie Pie to a T. It wasn't a phase that lasted that long, because my parents bought me Smarty Pants, and something fanciful and childish inside of me dissolved, for I realized that all that mattered was material reality. So, I embraced Smarty Pants, loving her merely as a novelty, and devoted my life to attempting to figure out the physicality of this universe, having long lost touch with the effluent shades of laughter, levity, and—dare I say it?—love.

Love...

For the longest time, I never thought that I would feel love. But lately... I'm not entirely sure...

My heart skips a beat. My nerves tingle in their extremities. I feel an extra bounce in my step... heheh... bounce.

And I'm only feeling all of these things... when she's around. Every time Pinkie Pie giggles, every time she makes a joke—horrible or not—I feel like she's casting beacons of joy down the deep well of the universe and challenging the enormity of everything to cheer back at her. She's so illogical, so senseless, and yet she's got such an insatiable grasp on herself.

Me? I'm just barely starting to feel my hooves on the ground. After so many years of being friendless, I look back and realize that there were nights, weeks, entire dull-gray months when I would have given anything for another pony just to hold me, to caress me, to do anything that was in her power to make me do what I'm doing right now, that which Pinkie has blossomed forth without barely having try:

Smiling...

I am smiling. There was a time when I thought that even that was a waste of time and energy. How could I have been so cold, so morose? It seems so bizarre, so hyperbolically senseless. And now that I'm in the same room with somepony like Pinkie—who is the very epitome of senselessness—I feel like I can see with new eyes, feel with new hooves, hear with new ears. Is this a transformation I feel, shooting butterflies into my stomach and distracting me to the point of collapse?

Or is this love...?

I wish I could figure it all out. I wish I could answer all of my own questions. I wish... that I could just find this blasted book!

"Heya, Twi?" Pinkie's bright hoof slides into view, holding a dusty blue tome. "Is this what you're looking for?"

I gasp wide and clasp the book before me. "A Journal on Old Whinniepeg Dietary Supplements!" I grin and spin around to beam at her. "Pinkie, I was looking everywhere! How on earth did you find it so easily?"

"I dunno." She shrugs. "It was beneath the endtable over there."

"Well, no wonder it's so dusty," I say, blowing the sediment off the binding and coughing briefly. "Wait... Why were you looking under the endtable to begin with?"

"Well, I was thinking about how much Rarity hates dust. And then it occurred to me that dust bunnies wouldn't live long, considering there aren't a lot of carrots hiding in just any nook or crevice—"

"Pinkie... Pinkie... Pinkie..." I shake my head with a sigh. I smile in her direction, hugging the book to my chest and wishing I was hugging her instead. "Do you even hear yourself at times?"

"Well, duh! My ears can't share a room separate from my mouth, now can they?!"

"Ughh, Pinkie..."

"Besides, I'm sure the rent's a lot smaller so long as they all share the same space on my head! Heeehee!" She bounces across the room.

I exhale long and hard. "What am I ever going to do with you?"

"Uhmmm..." She scratches her chin and glances up towards the wooden ceiling of the place. "Tan my flankside?"

I do a double-take. "Wh-What?!" I feel a horrible blush coming...

"Well, that's what my daddy would usually say, back to back, after I set fire to the kitchen. Her voice undulates in a ridiculously masculine tone. "'Pinkamena Diane Pie, what am I ever going to do with you?! I'm gonna tan your flankside, little missy!'" She turns and winks my way. "I didn't start bouncing around on my own, y'know. The paddle makes for a good springboard, don'tcha think?"

"Heeheehee, oh Pinkie..."

"Wow, Twilight..." She trots towards me. "You sure are breathless tonight!"

"Heh... I can't help it."

"Oh? Why's that?"

"Uhhhhh..." I gulp, stammer, and turn away from her. "We're gonna be late!"

"Huh?"

"To the dinner at Sugarcube Corner!"

"Ohhhhhhhh..."

"Time to cast anchor, if you pardon the pun," I say as I wander over to a large stack of books on my workbench. "Just gotta truck these along..."

"Wowsies! You're gonna bring all of those books?!"

"Well, it helps to be prepared. I wasn't sure exactly which culinary topics you girls wanted to hear, so—"

"Here, Twilight, allow me!"

"Allow you to what?"

She slides up and snaps my saddlebag around her waist. It's... curious to see the image of my cutie mark hugging her ribcage. "Fill 'er up!" She opens a pouch for me to dump the books in. "I'll be your packhorse for the evening! Heehee! I always wanted to try it out! Ever since Dashie lent me 'Daring Do and the Coltlumbian Coffee Grindmare!'"

"Oh, Pinkie, you don't have to—"

"The books ain't gonna carry themselves, girl!" She winks. "Opportunity of a lifetime!"

I bite my lip. Something about this is so silly, so childishly chivalrous of her. Do all of my friends think that I'm a frail weakling who can't even carry her own books? What's more, why is it that I kind of feel... okay with being treated so delicately?

"Well, alright," I say, stifling a giggle and telekinetically sliding the items into her—er, I mean my bag. "There ya go. Just don't jostle them around so—"

"Weeeeee!" Pinkie Pie bounces forward, the saddlebag leaping chaotically along with her. "Off to Sugarcube we go! Anchors away! Heeehee!"

I sigh, shake my head, and turn the lights out as I trot out the library with her. Evening has fallen. Everything is cool and tranquil in the advent of another summer night. I can't help but feel a little bit of Pinkie Pie's infectious jubilant spirit as we make our way across the shadowed lengths of the town under the freshly blossoming stars. Still, a part of me drags a little, a part of me that is both perplexed and concerned all at once.

Is this the true Pinkie Pie? Is she all joy, giggles, and sunshine? All my life, I've wanted a friend just like her. Even in the times that she's annoyed me, I knew that I couldn't shut her out completely. I think everypony needs that special someone, a soul that is so undeniably, dependably, and even two-dimensionally joyful every hour of every day of every year. It's such a relief to have that rock to lean on, that glittering cool pool to toss oneself in when the stress of life becomes too frictious.

But, still, I worry. She's so kind and receptive and loving to the likes of me. Doesn't she want the same in return? Isn't there a part of her that is just as equally sad as she is happy, that needs to be held and caressed, just like the "old Twilight" so desperately wanted but could never admit to in all of those long and lonesome years?

Ponies are amazing creatures, such deep and fathomless souls worth exploring for each and every shiny bit of truth that there is to reveal. We are all like icebergs, in a way, with only the tiniest, brightest parts of ourselves lying above the surface for the world to see. But it's what lies beneath the waves, the parts of us that are made whole by such dear and intimate friendships as I have made in the past two years, that are what hold true buoyancy, that threaten to dash dreams asunder and displace nightmares all the same. Pinkie Pie is the greatest mystery I've ever had the grace of studying, and still I feel like I've yet to pierce the utter depths of her in even a fraction of the degree to which she's exposed me. And I'm just now starting to feel the need to thank her for it.

"Pinkie Pie...?"

"Hmmm?" She pauses in bouncing just long enough to smile at me. Beyond her, I see the colorful shapes of Rainbow Dash, Rarity, Applejack, and Fluttershy all gathered in front of Sugarcube Corner, waving our way and beckoning us to join them. "Is there something on your mind?"

I want to tell her... I want to show her that what's on my mind is no longer important to me. It stopped being so important months ago, somewhere amidst all the lessons and all the experiments and all the letters to the Princess. If only I could share with her my heart, the deepest and most intimate parts of me that still hide beneath the frigid surface, bobbing, waiting to melt at the slightest hint of her invitation. And perhaps that is how I've come to realize that it's foolish to wait for an invitation in the first place. I've come a long way from the "old Twilight" to understand that part of being a friend is knowing when and where it's okay to be selfish.

"Could I get a hug?"

Pinkie blinks. Pinkie smiles. "Any time and any day of the week, silly filly." She says this against my ear, for she is already holding me close, clutching me hard to the point of breaking, until I realize that I am just as weak and delicate as the unicorn mare that she offered to carry books for.

And it feels so warm, so right, so fantastically electric to be hanging here, nestled in her gentle, caressing forelimbs. If I collapsed right here and now, sobbing in her arms, I have no doubt she'd keep me locked in her embrace, absorbing every shake and gasp until the last bits of "old Twilight" are gone for good, and all that would remain is the part of me feeling numb, feeling safe, feeling frightened and solaced all at once.

Yes. Yes, I do think this may be love.

I gulp and murmur against her fluffy mane, "Thank you, Pinkie Pie..."

"Hmm? For what?"

I smile and clench my eyes shut. "For not knowing what I'm thanking you for."

"Uhhhh... Sure! I can do that any day of the week too!"

"Heeheehee," I laugh until a few tears sprout forth. They are good tears. "I know that, Pinkie. Now... let's go have ourselves a nice dinner."

"Okie dokie lokie!"

That table full of fillies that is strangely quiet tonight...

The muffins come out of the oven, golden brown and delicious. Day in and day out, it's all the same, and I couldn't possibly be more happy. My hubby is right; I've not lost my magic touch, not in the least. At my age, I suppose it helps to hold onto a simple dash of pride, like sprinkling cinnamon over the parts of my life that are still scrumptious. It's best not to forget that.

Oh dearie me, I'm getting distracted! It's been such a long, long day, but I mustn't let these weary bones hold me back, or a weary head for that matter. Heehee. Hmmm, yes, there are patrons to serve still. I wonder if they would like to sample some of these muffins? I know they didn't order any, but one or two of them on the house couldn't possibly dampen their spirits, now could it? Hmmm? Heehee... Ahem.

Here we go, just slide them onto the tray—Ooooh, that smarts! My hooves aren't as heat resistant at I'd expect them to be through the years. Oh well, never too late to live and learn! Heehee. I haven't heard much talking. Surely the young ladies are still at their table. Let's go and see—Oh, wow, that's a beautiful starry sky outside the window. I should take a break from baking for the wedding shower tomorrow and enjoy a brief look at the milky way. Mother nature never stops painting our lives with brilliance, if I do say so. Dum de dum—Hello, what is this?

The six mares are still here, but now I understand why I didn't hear their voices for so long. I see Pinkie, but she's not talking! How stranger. Then again, neither are her friends! Just what's gotten into them? They look like they've seen a ghost, or as though their hooves are stuck in frozen ice. I swear, they've always been a chatty bunch. Is there a funeral I don't know about?

Ahem... Let's be graceful about this. Remember that, above all, you are a hostess.

"Hello again and good evening, girls!" I smile as I slide the tray of muffins onto their table beside a stack of books that Miss Sparkle must have brought. "My, what a pleasant night for a dinner party, am I right?"

The six ponies say nothing. Their eyes are locked to the table. They're seated next to one another, but—I swear—it's as if none of their shoulders are touching. What? Do they think a horrible plague is ahoof?

"Are you... enjoying your meal?" I smile, glancing down at their plates. I can't help but do a double-take, for barely a single bite has been taken out of their feast. "Oh, uhm... Erm..." I nervously smile in their direction again. "Perhaps a doggy bag is in order?" I blink. "Or s-six of them?"

Twilight Sparkle looks my way, as if coming out of a thick dream. "Huh?" Her eyes dart stiffly towards the table. "Oh. Uhm. That's quite alright..."

"Reckon I'm not that hungry," Applejack says. "Why don't you take them vittles home, RD?"

"Huh? Me?" Rainbow Dash stammers, as if caught in some horrible spotlight. "I-I'm not the one who needs to shove food down her gullet!" She turns and smiles. "Fluttershy—?" She instantly winces, as if a gun has gone off. "Erm... What I mean is..."

Fluttershy says nothing. She merely squirms in her seat.

"It's... kind of hot in here," Pinkie Pie murmurs in a voice that's most unbecoming of her bubbly self. "Like, super stuffy hot."

"Er, y-yeah..." Twilight admits with a nod. "I wonder why that is?"

"I certainly have no idea," Rarity murmurs.

Fluttershy squirms some more.

Applejack fans herself with her hat while Rainbow Dash sweats with her wings tightly pressed to the back of her seat.

Silence.

"What I wouldn't give for a nice, relaxing shower," Rarity then says. She fidgets, then mutters, "An exceedingly cold one."

Everypony looks up. For the first time since I've trotted out, they've made eye contact.

Fluttershy is the first to stand up. "What she said."

"Right."

"Yup."

"Roger."

"Affirmative."

"Okie dokie lokie!"

With a percussion of six chairs scraping the tile floor, the six mares slide out from the table, give each other a brief curtsy, and part ways like bolts of lightning. I'm left standing in the middle of the eatery, scratching my head through my mane.

"What in Celestia's name was that all about?"

Before I have too much time to think about it, I hear the bell above the door ringing just seconds after the girls leave. An exhausted, gray shape trots towards me, dragging an empty mailbag.

"Oh, hi, Miss Hooves!" I say with a smile. "Resting after a long day's work?"

"Mmmm-Yeah," Derpy exhales and slumps down into one of the seats that Pinkie and her friends had occupied. "I must have covered half of Equestria and parts of Dream Valley!" She pauses, and then her crooked eyes squint as she fidgets where she sits. "Say, why's this chair so warm?"

"Uhhh..."

"Hey!" She leans forward, her wings twitching. "Do... Do I smell what I think I smell?"

For the first time in hours, I relax, chuckling happily. "Here you go, darling." I give her half of the tray's golden, toasty contents before making my way back to the kitchen. "It's on the house." I smile even more at the sound of a joyful gasp in the eatery behind me.

That delicious morsel of golden brown goodness

Muffins!

Oh blessed Luna, I love muffins.

I can't believe there was a time when I didn't love muffins.

Why, if I could build a ship out of muffins, I'd set across a sea of raisins and blueberries until I found a continent made out of the stuff.

And then I'd name it Muffinland.

Because they make me so happy and joyful.

Muffins.

I wonder if muffins can love a pony back?