Out of Sight, But Never Out of Mind
“Sweetie Belle, I’m sorry darling, but I simply haven’t the time to play with you at the moment. I’m far too busy with this Hearth’s Warming rush.”
Rarity stepped deftly around her downcast sibling. Bolts of red and green silk bobbed slowly in her wake as she swept around the room, suspended in her magic.
She adjusted the rims of her trademark red glasses as she spared a glance from tying a green bow around a festive red coat with its fluffy white collar. “I know you’re feeling bored with Applebloom and Scootaloo off with their families, but it is that time of year after all. Try to make the best of it, hmm?”
“After all, with Mother and Father snowed in up in Canterlot, this will be our first Hearth’s Warming with just the two of us!” The mare smiled warmly down at her despondent sister.
“Yeah, but there’s nothing to make the best of!,” Sweetie moaned, flopping listlessly onto a pile of fluffy cotton and unsettling a rather grumpy white feline.
“Isn’t this the time when we’re supposed to do family stuff?,” she mumbled thickly through the fluff. “Like bake gingerbread cookies and hang stockings over the fire and drink eggnog until we swell up like balloons!”
The fashionista chuckled dryly. “While I may enjoy a glass of eggnog, not all of us can drink it like Twilight does, Sweetie.”
Sweetie picked her head up and tapped her chin. “Yeah, Twilight does kinda have a problem…”
“That doesn’t leave this room, Sweetie Belle.” Rarity smirked.
Pulling herself off of the cotton with a heave, the filly walked up behind the older pony and sighed, watching through half-lidded eyes as the line of ponniquins in front of her were slowly draped in the colors of the season.
“Is there anything I can help you with, at least?”
“Oh, thank you Sweetie, but these coats require a lot of needlework and I’d rather not have to break out the gauze again.”
Rarity grimaced as another loud sigh split the silence.
“Sweetie darling, why don’t you go play with some of your toys while I finish these up? I’m certain I won’t be more than another hour or two.”
With a sad frown and her head hanging low, the filly closed her sister’s studio door behind her.
“Why is Rarity always so busy on Hearth’s Warming?”
Sweetie trotted downstairs morosely, the sound of her hooves striking the hardwood floor did little to lift the veil of silence over the rest of the boutique.
A flicker of light in the corner of her eye drew her gaze over to the bejeweled tree in the corner of the main room. Its branches festooned with gemstones of varying sizes and colors. An array of enchanted, floating candles surrounded the tree in place of lights and their rays reflected merrily off the gemstones sending bright patches of color through the room.
She blinked and turned to the window, the colorful display doing little to alleviate her present mood.
Pressing her muzzle up to the cold glass, she watched snowflakes fall in dizzying patterns over the streets of Ponyville. The dull, gray and white vista was occasionally broken by the brief sight of ponies dashing through the snow, pulling carts laden with wrapped packages.
“I wish there was something to do. Applebloom and Scootaloo are off with their families and it’s too cold out to make snowponies. Hay, Twilight’s boarded up the library so I can’t even read a book!”
The filly spun around as a slow meow caught her ears.
Padding softly with her nose in the air, the feline acknowledged the foal’s presence with a brief rub against her legs before turning to curl up underneath the shady bows of the Hearth’s Warming tree.
Sweetie smiled, giggling lightly. “Opal, what’re you doing under there. You’re not a present.”
Opal meowed disdainfully and gave a paw a few cursory licks before flicking her tail and wrapping it about herself.
Still smiling, Sweetie made to stand back up before a brief, enticing thought flashed across her mind, making her gasp in joy.
“Presents, that’s what I can do! I can go see where Rarity’s stashed the presents this year.”
A quick dash up the stairs however, brought her to a screeching halt.
“Wait, where would Rarity hide the presents. She wouldn’t hide them in her room again, not after last year. And they wouldn’t be in my room.”
A hoof on her chin in thought as she stared at the floor, she failed to notice the painted, ceramic statue of a jolly, bearded pony in her path before she ran into it head first. Rubbing the bump on her forehead, she glared up at the offending piece of decor in consternation.
She blinked in surprise as her eyes roamed over to the grooves in the ceiling that marked the laddered entrance to the attic.
“The attic! Of course!”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Taking a triumphant breath of the dusty attic air, Sweetie glanced down at her abandoned pillar of precariously stacked boxes and couch cushions. Miming a staying motion with her hooves, she spun around and took her first glance of her surroundings.
Dusty cardboard boxes lay scattered around the small space. Unused bolts of cloth and discarded stuffed animals leaned and sagged respectively against one another. Taking a breath and holding a hoof over her nose to block the worst of the dust disturbed by her passing, Sweetie slid around boxes and over chests and dolls as she kept her eyes peeled for any sign of brightly colored wrapping paper and ribbons.
Frowning as she passed what must have been the thirty-hundredeth discolored teddy bear, she groaned and stomped a hoof in exasperation. Fighting off a cough from the disturbed detritus, she glanced around the maze of cardboard.
“C’mon, there’s gotta be something up here. It took me forever to stack those cushions!”
About to spin around and continue slogging through mounds of cloth and “this way up” signs, her eyes were caught by thick letters scrawled on the side of one box with black marker.
Gentle. Special Memories.
Flicking her gaze up and down the taped container she hummed to herself. “That’ll work.”
Not so gently ripping off the aged duct tape and flipping open the cardboard lids, Sweetie was presented with an assortment of objects. There were pictures of Rarity as a filly and what must have been her friends from school. A well-worn doll dressed in a frilly, lace gown smiled widely up at Sweetie with lovingly stitched dimples.
Her disappointment at a distinct lack of festively wrapped gifts was overshadowed by an all-consuming curiosity.
“Whoa, look at all this stuff!” She held up a fragile-looking white teapot with a purple lid as she rummaged past a matching teacup set and crudely drawn crayon pictures of ballroom dancing and knights protecting maidens from ferocious beasts.
Smiling and cooing in delight, she picked up a snow globe replica of the Neighffel Tower. Giving it a shake she watched sparkling glitter swirl around the orb in a mesmerizing dance before placing it carefully back down amongst its fellows.
“Ooh, what’s that?,” she squeaked.
Setting the teapot down on the ground, her wavering green magic pulled a shining metal figurine from the assortment.
Sweetie rubbed a forelimb across the object to rub off most the dust as she squinted, trying to make out its features in the dim light.
It was a small brass statue of a sharply dressed unicorn stallion in a tuxedo, bowing toward its viewer with a flourish of its tophat.
She glanced down toward a small plaque embossed on the statue’s bottom.
The Gentlecolt.
“Gentlecolt, huh? No wonder Rarity has you then,” she giggled, holding the statue up in the light.
“I wish Rarity had told me about this stuff earlier, it looks like we could’ve had a lot of fun with all this stuff.” Her ears drooped sadly. “That is, if she’d had the time to spend with me anyway.”
“You seem pretty outta place though. No offense or anything, but you’re not a doll.” Sweetie smiled, turning the figurine this way and that as she inspected its dull, brass tuxedo.
A small chuckle came from right behind her. “No, my dear I’m sorry to say that I am most certainly not a doll.”
Sweetie squeaked in surprise as she backed away, her back hoof getting caught on the extended leg of a teddy bear and sending her tumbling onto her back.
“Oh my, young miss are you alright?”
Sitting up and rubbing her back with a hoof she cracked one eye open. “Huh?”
Her gaze focused on the concerned face of a young stallion, his blue eyes wrinkling slightly at the edges as he offered a hoof to help her up. His worried voice seemed to brighten the attic with its slight Prench accent.
“Young miss, I must apologize. I didn’t mean to frighten you, dreadfully silly of me to surprise you like that.”
As she accepted the hoof and he pulled her gently upright, she took a better glance at the stallion. He was sharply dressed in a handsome tuxedo and bowtie that meshed well with his almost golden coat color. He smiled in amusement at her and she glimpsed his groomed brown mane as he gave a polite tip of his shiny top hat, a white velvet ribbon tied around the base.
“Um, that’s alright mister. If you don’t mind me asking, who are you and how’d you get in here? My sister says I’m not supposed to talk to strangers, so you have to introduce yourself.”
“Ah, of course! Have my manners deserted me?” He gave himself a rap on the forehead as he lowered into a deep bow, finishing off with a flourish of his hat.
“I am the Gentlecolt, young miss. As for how I got in here, why this is where I live!” Sweetie raised a brow incredulously as he swept a hoof around the attic dramatically.
“You live in my sister’s attic? That seems kinda creepy.”
The stallion chuckled, smiling widely. “Well, more precisely, I live in that box.” He waved a hoof toward the ransacked container of memories next to them.
“Wha? The box? But you’re a grown-up, how could you fit in the…,” she drifted off as she flicked her eyes to the statue lying forgotten on the ground.
She looked back as the stallion chuckled warmly. “Indeed madame, it is just as you have no doubt surmised. I am the statue.”
“What? But you’re a pony, not a statue!,” Sweetie picked up the plaque and glared at it before blinking in surprise. The name on the plaque was gone.
“Huh?”
“Oui, miss. It is no joke, my name is Brass Tact.”
Sweetie glanced back and forth between the statue and its smiling doppelganger, her brow furrowed as she tried to wrap her mind around all this weirdness.
“But if you’re also a pony, then why did you stay in the box? Couldn’t you have just turned into a pony and left? If must’ve been awful dark in there.”
A brief flicker of sadness swept over the stallion’s face as he smiled, though the edges did not quite reach his eyes. “Ah, yes it was very dark. Unfortunately miss, I cannot be as I am before you unless somepony picks me up.”
“So you’re stuck in the dark as a statue unless somepony finds you?,” The filly’s eyes grew large and her ears drooped. “That sounds lonely.”
“Perhaps a little bit, miss.” He chuckled. “But that is quite alright. I am used to it, non?”
“Well...maybe you could come with me, Mr.Tact?” Sweetie smiled widely as the stallion arched a brow. “My sister’s busy with work so I’m bored and don’t have anyone to play with. It’s a lot brighter downstairs!”
“And roomier,” she muttered, eyeing the already confined quarters that had nearly approached claustrophobic with the addition of the adult pony.
“That sounds lovely, madame! I would be delighted to be your escort for this evening.” He bowed low, nearly sweeping the attic floor with his mane.
Sweetie giggled as she tossed the statue on her back and pranced away toward the ladder.
“You’re weird.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“What splendid decorations, is it some sort of celebration?” Tact roamed through the house’s lower floors, his eyes sweeping over the hung wreaths and bright ribbons.
“It’s Hearth’s Warming Eve, silly. You haven’t heard of it?,” Sweetie queried.
Brass stopped in front of the fireplace and looked over his shoulder curiously at the filly.
“The eve of Hearth’s Warming? But the hearth is already lit.” He gestured at the crackling fire that cast warm shadows flickering around the room. Offering contrast to the bright light issuing from the illusory candles on the tree.
Sweetie giggled. “No, silly. It’s a holiday. Families get together and everypony gets gifts and eats cookies and eggnog.”
The filly leaned in conspiratorially and lowered her voice to a whisper. “Rarity says that the holiday is supposed to be more about sharing and caring instead of presents, but I think she says that just so she doesn’t seem greedy.”
“Ah, Madame Rarity is your sister?,” the stallion exclaimed. “ Oui, of course! How could I have missed the family resemblance?”
“You know Rarity?”
“But of course, miss! The Madame was my previous owner. We used to host the greatest tea parties.” He smiled sadly in reminiscence.
They were interrupted by a meow from down below. Opal slowly sashayed out from underneath the tree, glaring up at them in sleepy disapproval of all of the racket.
“Oh, my apologies, Madame! Please, allow me to remedy my mistake.”
With a flourish of his hat, his horn lit the room brightly for an instant before it faded just as quickly, a newly levitating saucer of cream placed itself on the floor to the delight of Opal, who gave a mew of approval as she accepted the treat.
“Whoa, neat!,” Sweetie squeaked. “I’ve only seen Twilight magic stuff up like that.”
“It comes with the position, miss. I am gifted with the magic to grant the desires of my owners.”
“Ooh, like a genie?”
Brass Tact chuckled, white teeth flashing in his smile. “Not quite, but close.”
“Hmm...so you know how to throw great tea parties, huh?” Sweetie’s face was split by a grin it could barely contain.
The stallion grasped his hat from his head and placed it against his chest before tossing his coiffed mane dramatically. “The best.”
“Well, could I ask you to put your magic where your mouth is and throw one for me and Rarity?,” she asked sweetly, batting her eyelashes as her eyes seemed to grow exponentially.
“Madame, you had only to ask. Please,”
Sweetie closed her eyes as his horn flashed brightly.
“Be my guest.”
She opened her eyes and gasped as she found herself seated at a large table covered in trays of treats and hors d'oeuvres on a white linen tablecloth. The delicate white and purple-lidded teapot with its matching teacups were arrayed on saucers before the only two chairs.
Smiling in delight she turned to squeal at Brass only to find him missing. Glancing around the room confusedly, her attention was caught by a small gleam on the tabletop.
A small, metal Brass Tact smiled up at her from the table as he bowed to Sweetie.
“And now, miss, this gentlecolt proudly presents...your tea.”
Sweetie gasped as a jaunty tune began to play, streaming in from every conceivable angle, and yet she could not see any sort of record player or radio at all.
“Be. My. Guest. Be my guest, put my service to the test.”
She stared in awe as a large, white napkin rose from the table next to her saucer and tied itself neatly around her neck.
“Tie a napkin ‘round your neck, cherie and I’ll provide the rest.”
“Soup d’jour, hot hors d'oeuvres, why I only live to serve! Try the grey stuff, it’s delicious! Don’t believe me? Ask the dishes!”
At his words, the dinnerware on the table sprang to life, spinning and twirling around the table in time to the music.
“They can sing, they can dance...after all miss, I’m from Prance! And training there brings out the very best!”
“Go on unfold your menu, take a glance and then you’ll be my guest, oui my guest, be my guest.”
“Beet ragout, cheese souffle, pie and pudding en flambe! I’ll prepare and serve with flare a culinary cabaret! You’re alone and you’re bored, but my dear, please rest assured. No one’s gloomy or complaining while the flatware’s entertaining!”
A small flame flickered into existence over his horn as he danced around the tabletop. Sweetie smiled joyously, clapping her hooves enthusiastically in time with the music.
“I tell jokes, I do tricks. With my fellow candlesticks.”
Sweetie jumped in surprise and laughed as the dancing candles boomed out in disembodied chorus.
“And it’s all in perfect taste, that you can bet!”
“Come on and lift your glass, you’ve won your own free pass to be my guest. If you’re bored, a cup of tea will be adored!”
“Be my guest, be my guest, be my guest!”
The music slowed to a quiet, sad melody as the room darkened. A bright spotlight shone down from the ceiling, illuminating Brass who had his metal head bowed and his top hat clasped in his hooves over his chest.
“Life is so unnerving, for a servant who’s not serving. I’m not whole without a soul to wait upon. Ah, those good old days when I was useful. Suddenly, those good old days are gone…”
“Ten years, I’ve been rusting! Needing so much more than dusting! Needing exercise, a chance to use my skills! Every day I’ve just been lying in that attic…”
“Dusty, brass and lazy, you walked in and oops-a-daisy!”
The teapot sprang to life, bouncing merrily down the table with its train of teacups as it sang.
“She’s a guest! She’s a guest! Sakes alive, well I’ll be blessed! Tea’s all done, and thank the Sun I’ve had the napkins freshly pressed.”
“With her treats, she’ll want tea. And my dear, that’s fine with me. While the cups do their soft-shoein’ I’ll be bubblin’, I’ll be brewin’!”
“I’ll get warm,” it cried as a jet of steam puffed from its spout. “Piping hot!”
“Heaven’s sakes! Is that a spot?! Clean it up! We want the company impressed.”
“We’ve got a lot to do.”
The pot halted its cavorting dance in front of Sweetie’s cup and leaned up at her expectantly.
“Is it one lump, or two? For you our guest!”
Tact danced back into view with a flourish of his hat, a wide grin stamped on his muzzle. Sweetie laughed delightedly and clapped her hooves as she sang along, her melodious voice echoing throughout the boutique.
“Be my guest, be my guest! My command is your request! It’s been years since I treated anyone, my dear. And I’m obsessed!”
“With your tea, with your ease. Yes, indeed I aim to please! While the candlelight’s still glowing, let me help you. I’ll keep going!”
“Cup. By. Cup! One by one! Til you shout-”
“Enough I’m done!,” Sweetie sang.
“Then I’ll sing you off to sleep as you digest. Tonight you’ll prop your feet up, but for now please, drink up!”
“Be my guest! Be my guest! Be my guest!”
“Please. Be. My. Guest!!”
As the crescendo ended, the tableware gave a spin as they settled into their places on the table. Tact bowed deeply, his horn sweeping the tablecloth before he stood, placing his hat back upon his head as Sweetie Belle squealed and cheered!
“That was amazing!”
“Thank you, young miss. I try.” The small stallion smiled warmly.
The sudden sound of hoofsteps on the stairs caught their attention.
“Sweetie Belle?,” Rarity called from the stairs. “What’s going on down here? Where did you learn that son-”
Rarity stood gaping in surprise at the laden table in the center of the room. Sweetie waved from her chair, a wide grin on her face. “Heya, Sis!”
“Sweetie Belle, is this a tea party? Did you set all this up yourself?”
“Nope! The Gentlecolt did!” She turned her grin to the table only for it to disappear as she saw the brass statue on his plinth, unmoving.
“Oh, my gentlecolt statue! Sweetie Belle, where did you find that? I thought I had him packed away in the attic!”
“Y-yeah. I found him in a box of your stuff while I was looking for my presents.”
“Sweetie!,” Rarity admonished, a playful smirk on her face. “You know better than to try that. I hid them much better this year.” She tossed her mane playfully, taking a seat at the table.
“I must say Sweetie Belle, I’m impressed. I haven’t seen a tea party this extravagant since I was a filly. I used to throw the very same ones with this statue and my dolls.”
Sweetie nodded, her curly mane bouncing. “Yeah, he told me he used to throw the best tea parties with you.”
Rarity arched an eyebrow amusedly. “He told you, hmm? I admit, I used to have quite the imagination as well when I was your age. I used to pretend he was real, and he would use his magic to take me all around the world for our parties. Like Prance, for instance.”
The mare smiled warmly in reminiscence. “I used to have such fun, but that was before I made friends around Ponyville and in school. Eventually I stopped having tea parties with anypony but them.” She sighed quietly. “I suppose I outgrew him, in the end.”
A sparkling blue aura surrounded the teapot as it levitated into the air, pouring steaming tea into their cups.
“But enough about the old days. I say we should take advantage of my completed orders and partake in this excellent spread you've laid out, Sweetie.”
Sweetie Belle’s smile could have outshone the brightest Hearth’s Warming tree that night as the two sisters had tea. Laughing and trading stories, the two ponies enjoyed their drinks and each other’s company as the night grew older over a snow covered Ponyville.
As the fire burned low and the moon shone high in the sky, Sweetie Belle’s chatter became more and more interspersed with wide yawns.
“It seems like it’s somepony’s time to sleep. I must admit, I’m feeling exhausted as well.” The fashionista’s hoof covered a dainty yawn as she picked up the statue.
“I’ll just put this old thing back up in the attic and we can turn in for the night.”
“Wait!,” Sweetie squeaked.
Rarity turned around, her eyes betraying her curiosity.
“Can we leave him out here with the tree? He doesn’t like the dark,” the filly mumbled.
Blinking in surprise, the mare slowly spun around. “Why...certainly Sweetie Belle. Where do you think would be a good spot?”
Sweetie rubbed her eyes with a hoof and yawned. “How about above the fireplace?”
Rarity smiled. “That sounds like an excellent idea.”
Her horn glowing, the statue thumped softly onto the mantel as the flames flickered dimly, the light of the moon and the tree’s candles keeping the room softly lit.
As Sweetie loosed another explosive yawn, she was grasped in Rarity’s magic and placed carefully on the mare’s back.
“You know, Sweetie Belle. You never did tell me where you learned that song.”
“Brass Tact sang it for me,” the filly mumbled sleepily.
“Oh, I see. Brass…Tact, told you?” Rarity looked back over her withers at Sweetie Belle, but the filly had her back turned, facing the mantelpiece.
“Good night, Mr. Tact! Merry Hearth’s Warming!”
Rarity felt her eyes widen in surprise as Sweetie Belle turned back and curled up against her sister’s mane.
All the way up the stairs and as she placed Sweetie in her bed, softly closing the door. Even up until Rarity herself lay down among her silken sheets, she was unable to shake a wide, warm smile.
It was surprising to hear Sweetie call her gentlecolt statue Brass Tact. It had been a silly name she had made up for her imaginary friend all those years ago, and had never told anypony else.
But most surprising of all had been when Sweetie had told it goodnight and wished it a merry Hearth’s Warming.
She could swear she’d seen it wink.
