Generosity

by MrSyndrome

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, Romance
Length: 1020

Rarity has never been the most popular pony. And a late at night work session gives her time to think of what life has given to her so far. Where is the white mare going?

A little story dedicated to Rarity and the reason behind her place in the fandom. Rarity is working into the night to fulfil her orders, to make sure her customers get their garments on time. She is troubled by the possibility of what lies ahead and how her relationship with Rainbow Dash will mould and change her future.

A dark presence is set to wash across Ponyville, a mystery name whispered from the realm of dreams. What fate will this pose to Rarity? What is to become of her?

Published 1970-01-01 00:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2013-12-01 17:50:03 UTC

Generosity

A late night's work with the constant whirring of a sewing machine was becoming the norm for Rarity. Her relationship took so much of her time and it was becoming difficult to manage things accordingly. Dress making had become her second priority, behind her sister and girlfriend. A long shift of sewing, sketching and fixing lay ahead, tweaking each individual element to create the perfect outfit. Through the wear on her hooves and the strain in her eyes she carried on. It was clear she was becoming rather weak, hair beginning to crumble and wrinkle from sweat.

Her workshop was quiet, the hum of her machines all that kept her in an audible company. The early morning was soon approaching, past the midnight hour as the day began it's final sprint into sunlight. All that gave her sight was a desk lamp, shone right to her desk as to display her materials before her. Around her sat rolls of fabric, scissors and lengths of twine snipped and discarded. This was clearly the environment of an artist, looking to bring about a new creation into the world.

It was time for a break. Besides, she had worked through the entire evening, missing any scheduled dinner or late night soak in the bath. Across the hall in the other room was the bedroom, door ajar as a flood of light pouring through the room and cascading into the pristine white carpet. Soft hoof clops took her to the edge of the doorway, peaking in to occupied bed within. Curled up in the sheets, drooling into the satin pillowcases was her love, Rainbow Dash. A soft snore slipped from the pegasus' muzzle, soft breath heaving in and out as she slept. How the unicorn wished she could join her, to curl up beside her and welcome slumber. To lay her head down in time for the waking hours and just BE with her love.

But her work had to come first...

There were ponies in Ponyville who did not approve of Rarity. On the outside, she could be very arrogant and self-centred. Her actions were that of a crass disposition, many just an endeavour for herself and herself alone. But they would be wrong, as the white unicorn was the embodiment of generosity. Although mostly material, Rarity was not one to falter when someone needed something of her. It was a bitter irony that she could not be generous with her time, but she was concerned for her business.

What Rarity gave to those she knew, was her heart. Sure, on the surface she could be dismissive and argumentative with those that were a bit more brutish, and she was very vain when it comes to her own outlook. But deep inside, all Rarity wants to do is share her world with everyone else. The beauty she finds in herself is something of a gift to everyone, a quality she also sees in other people. Her admiration for her friends and adoration of her lovers is unfaltering and always would be. To Dash, she gave her love, her life and her heart.

Carefully and silently, Rarity returned to her workshop, approaching the window to take a look at the high moon above her home town. The pure moonlight glittered in her light blue eyes, her gaze surveying the many ponies as they slumbered. It wasn't Canterlot and she certainly wasn't living in a grand Castle...but this was her home. All these ideals of a handsome Prince and becoming a beautiful Princess, ruling over her subjects with elegance and kindness were melting away. She wasn't 'making due', she was content. More than content, she was happy!

In truth, she would not trade the greatest jewel in the world for what she had. Friendship, happiness, love. These things were more important too her, now more than ever. Besides, people knew her name and she got steady business from Canterlot. Her dresses were worn by the elite and she got to say in the town she loved, Queen over all those around her, ready to bring beauty and passion to those who sought it. That was her role, it was her job. And nothing would ever change that! Sure, it was long ago that she desired to leave, to move away to become a socialite with those in the Royal city. But what did that matter now?

It was time to get back to work. Her craft was her own passion, and she was ready to finish her master piece. Her gaze left the moon as she began to hum, sweet, harmonic voice and bright smile driving her forward in her task. A few more stitches, a trim of the hem and some delicate adjustments. It was time consuming, it was difficult and it was fraught with mistakes and errors that needed fixing. But so was her life, her relationship. And she would work just as hard upon that too! Like a beautiful dress, she would craft her life into something so magical and wonderful, that would gain attention and make others happy.

It had taken her a few hours, but her masterpiece was done and stored away on a mannequin, ready for the buyer to retrieve it in the morning. The Sun had yet to break and Rarity was completely exhausted. Soft hoof-falls would guide her back into the bedroom as she softly closed the door. Delicately, the mare would lower herself into the bed, her warm, white form slipping beside Rainbow as the heat from her partner soaked into her coat, a fine reward for such hard work.

And as she laid her head to slumber, her eyes drifted to the ceiling above. What would the future hold? What would tomorrow bring? Something felt off, a little doubt in the back of her mind. Almost as if it was a memory she could not recount, the weaves of time lost and tangled that no scissors or magic prowess could fix. But her time would come and she knew it, as those eyelids began to draw close.

And she would mutter, “Equus Nox...”