Chapters Come save me from walking off a windowsill, or I'll sleep in the rain...
Twilight woke to the sound of robins chirping just outside her window. Spike had opened up the red curtains earlier that morning, and sunlight streamed in through the opening, landing on her face. She yawned, and stretched out her limbs, giving a sigh of satisfaction. She blinked her eyes a few times, hard, to chase away the drowsiness, then rolled out of bed. The wood floor felt soothingly cool to her hooves, so she trotted down the stairs into the kitchen, where her assistant Spike was cooking hay cakes for breakfast. He turned around, holding a plateful of the golden-brown cakes when he saw Twilight.
"AACCK!" he yelled, throwing up the plate. The hay cakes tumbled into the air, tossing and turning. Spike deftly caught the plate and held it under each of the round cakes, making a perfect stack.
"Great Celestia, Twilight. You scared me!" Spike giggled, slowly raising a claw in her direction. "Just look at yourself!"
With a gentle flow of magic, the alicorn levitated a mirror to herself. Her hair was almost as bad as the first time she met Pinkie Pie! Her highlights were all over the place. She looked a bit like a clown with a rainbow Afro.
"You're right, Spike," Twilight laughed, setting down the mirror and picking up her hairbrush. She ran it down her mane in long, sweeping strokes. "This is quite possibly the worst case of bed-head that I have ever seen!"
Spike chuckled and poured them both glasses of orange juice.
"Dig in," he said, passing Twilight the maple syrup. She sat at a stool and gladly accepted the bottle. After pouring some on her hay cakes, she began to eat.
"Wow, these are really good!"
"Thanks, Twi! I'd hoped you'd like them!" The little dragon beamed. They ate in a pleasant silence after that. Twilight was just washing down the last of her breakfast with her juice when there was a loud rapping at the door. The lavender pony stood and wiped her mouth with a napkin.
"Coming!" she said, walking over to the door. It opened with a soft flare of magenta light. Spike peered around her legs at their unexpected guest.
"Oh, it's you, Rainbow! What-"
"Yeah, hey, okay. Hi, Spike. So listen, Twilight. Cloudchaser and I are going to have a race in Ghastly Gorge. Flitter's reffing. You wanna come?" asked the pegasus.
Twilight blinked. "Ghastly Gorge...? Oh yes, that's the place where-"
"-where I held that contest for all my possible pets. It's super dangerous. Cloudchaser dared me, and you know I can't say no to that. Anyway, you in or not?" Rainbow dash interrupted impatiently.
"Rainbow, that place is not ideal for flight. Think about all the winds that would be in a place like that! It would be so easy to get thrown off with the air moving at such speeds!" Twilight responded.
"Pfft, like you'd know. You've had your wings for what? A few months? I dunno. Time flies..." Rainbow snorted, then faced the princess again. "Well, I'm off. Later, egghead!"
Twilight and Spike watched as their hasty friend faded into a blur.
"I hope she doesn't hurt herself," said Spike.
"Me too," sighed the alicorn.
~•~•~•~•~
"Ow ow ow ow ow ow OW..." moaned Rainbow. Nurse Redheart scowled as she carried her stretcher into the emergency room.
"Just shut it, will ya?" she grumbled, before unceremoniously dumping the injured pegasus onto a bed.
"My wing..." she whimpered. The nurse sighed. Tentatively she examined Rainbow's wing, which had several large, dark bruises and was bent at an unnatural angle. She grimaced.
"It definitely doesn't look good. I'll talk to the doctor." She left without another word. A few minutes later, the nurse re-entered, with the doctor in tow. He whistled, an airy, low, sound. Nurse Redheart was definitely not wrong. This was not good. After an examination and lots of painkillers for the pegasus, he stood and examined his clipboard.
"Well, I'm sorry to say this, Rainbow, but although it will eventually heal, your wing will never reach full functionality. It's going to be hard to unfurl. Flying is impossible. And for one so young and active... It's tragic." He frowned, seeing Rainbow Dash's anguished face.
"I'm sorry," he said.
The sound of shameless sobs filled the area. Nurse Redheart excused herself from the room, on the verge of tears herself. Everyone knew how crushing it must be for the pegasus.
"My life is ruined..." wailed Rainbow Dash. She didn't stop crying until she fell asleep.
Don't you remember when I was a bird, and you were a map?
Rarity scrutinized the paper in front of her. It was filled with dark scribbles of measurements, numbers, and notes about what she wanted the final outcome to look and feel like. Not too tight, not too baggy, comfortable for spring/summer weather. Twelve and five eighths of an inch here. Small frills. Double stitch there. Gather. She sighed with fatigue and pushed her glasses up her muzzle with her free hoof. Her other one was flattening the fabric in front of her. Wearily she grasped the thin needle with her magic. She could feel it slipping. Such small and fine objects were hard to manipulate. The silver glinted in the light of her lamp. After checking just one more time to make sure she was sewing in the right spot, Rarity went to work.
Back, forth. Up, down. Over, under. Now again. The unicorn painstakingly examined every little detail to make sure everything was perfect. A single misplaced stitch could leave the entire thing very fragile and cause it to tear easily. Using her teeth, she broke off the thread and tied a small knot. Then, Rarity set down her needle and carried the unfinished skirt to her ironing board. She flattened out the material and ran the iron over it. Back and forth. Slow and steady.
Rarity had been on her own since just a little while after Sweetie Belle's birth. In fact, she hadn't even finished high school when she started working at a local tailor's in Manehattan. As soon as she had graduated, she had gotten a full-time job there. She'd moved away from her parents into an apartment on the other side of the city at around the same time her little sister was born. They saw each other once, but Sweetie was too young to remember. Rarity was always very busy. She tried to stay near her family, but eventually supply and demand won out and she had to move to Ponyville. Her parents decided that she should take Sweetie Belle with her. They had passed away shortly after the move. Carousel Boutique had opened just two weeks later. Life went on. Rarity supplied everything, from shoes to books to furniture to food. She had become very independent and rarely asked Sweetie for help or company.
Rarity folded the newly ironed skirt and put it aside. She had a very big order to fill, but she'd never finish it in time if she tried to power through it. She start again tomorrow after a full night's rest. She looked once more at her paper, trying her best to memorize the grand picture. Perhaps inspiration would come in her sleep.
Settling under her covers, she pulled her pink mask over her blue eyes and turned off the lights with her magic. Then Rarity took a deep breath, and tried to relax.
When she had first opened Carousel Boutique, she rarely made plans. Her creations were raw, spontaneous, and brilliant. Everypony loved them. Eventually, though, it got old. Her exciting new city style had become the norm, and no one felt as if her designs were interesting or original anymore. Rarity had tried to suppress her ideas, but she couldn't help it. There would always be buttons, zippers, gems, tassels or whatever else to add. Finally, though, one day she had decided to sketch out her entire plan. She couldn't fit all the details on the paper and was forced to minimize. It became habit, and over the years Rarity learned to save the extravagance for the more special outfits.
Rarity shuffled under her blankets. In some ways, she felt jealous of the ponies around her. Twilight had Spike. Applejack had her family. Scootaloo and Rainbow Dash. Fluttershy and her animals. Even Celestia had Luna. And sure, she had Sweetie Belle, but the two were not particularly close as far as sisters went, and pigs would fly before the little filly could ever help out in the boutique. No, Rarity relied on herself. And in other ways, it was good to be independent. She knew she could trust herself to get things done. Nothing ever happened in the boutique without her knowing about it.
But it did get lonely.
And now he drags down miles in America, briefcase in hand... The stove is creeping up his spine again, can't get enough trash...
Coco Pommel set down her cup of coffee and closed her eyes. Tilting her head back up towards the ceiling, she cracked her neck several times. Exhaling slowly, she forced herself to look back at her computer. A blank white screen stared back at her. Coco began typing her report.
Okay, first the title, she thought to herself. She put her hooves up on the keyboard.
THE
Coco groaned, and took another long swallow of coffee. She was glad to have a steady, well-paying job, but she wasn't sure of how much she enjoyed it. Writing reports on audience feedback to her company's productions wasn't exactly what she would call interesting. When Rarity and her friends had left her with a new job making costumes for plays, she had loved it. She worked diligently and was promoted quickly. Shortly after, she found herself almost at the top spot. She still worked for the same play-production company, and she knew that the many ponies that she had surpassed were deeply jealous of her position.
Coco drained her coffee and resumed typing.
THE RELATIONSHIP BETWEEN USE OF BILLBOARDS FOR PROMOTIONAL ADVERTISING AND AVERAGE CONSUMER RATINGS AND ATTENDANCE
Shuffling through papers that supposedly held the statistics she needed, Coco absentmindedly reached for her mug. She held it up to her lips before remembering that it was empty. She pursed her lips and frowned deeply, but kept searching through the files.
The more she'd thought about it over the last month or so, the more the Earth pony realized that she would gladly give up her job if she could. It was just her inconsistent job record, which made it unable for her to find a better job. She was lucky to be where she was now. At least, she was supposed to be.
Suddenly, Coco slammed the table with her hoof. Frustration was just building up inside of her and she had no way of letting it out.
Dang it, she thought to herself, I need a smoke. Grabbing a box of Parliament cigarettes, she slipped on a jacket and walked to the door to her office, which wasn't very far. Her room was slightly better than a cubicle. Quickly, she slipped the box into a pocket, then opened the door and walked out, closing it behind her. As she walked down the hall, she could feel the many eyes of her former coworkers on her back. Coco grumbled silently. Why couldn't they just leave her alone? She could tell they hated her for her 'success'.
Well, the feeling is mutual, she spat mentally. She looked up to see the door right in front of her. Glancing around first, she gently pushed open the door and stepped into the crisp fall air. Her hooves clacked on the pavement, and she stopped cold.
Crap! My lighter! Oh, I'm such a bucking idiot. I can't go back and forth again..
Frantically, Coco searched for a solution. She was in luck. In an ash tray of a nearby trash can, the stub from her last smoke was still glowing. Quickly, she picked it up and used it to light a new one. Leaning back against the wall, she watched the traffic whiz by. The faint sounds of honking horns floated over from the streets. The mare furrowed her brow in annoyance.
Insufferable mules. Hope they burn in Tartarus- The sound of polished hooves on cement woke her from her complaining. In one swift movement, Coco spat out her cigarette into the garbage and spaced herself from the bin, clearing her face and trying to look as innocent as possible.
"Oh! Coco! What a surprise, what are you doing outside?" asked Strawberry Cream, the personal secretary of Coco's boss, Steel Flourish. Technically, they were equals, but it was no secret that Strawberry was Coco's superior in almost every way. The only thing the two mares had in common was their gender, coat color, and lack of wings and horns.
I could ask the same thing, Coco thought darkly before responding cheerily, "Oh, I was just getting some fresh air, you know, stretching my legs out for a bit. But I've been here long enough, I'd better go back ins-"
"Nonsense, we might as well stay and chat for a bit. No harm done, am I right?" insisted the secretary. Coco was really itching to finish her cigarette, but she knew it was too late for that. Besides, smoking was frowned upon by almost everyone. It really was too bad she had to waste that one just now. It had taken forever to find a decent supplier who wasn't hitting on her between every other breath.
"Well, as wonderful as that sounds, Mrs. Cream, I really should get back to the office. Thanks anyway, I'm sure we can catch up later..."
Strawberry stopped her with a hoof by her flank.
"Well, sweetheart, if you're going back anyway, could you do me a favor and run these through the copier?" She handed Coco some loose papers. "Ten to fifteen copies of each should do." She smiled, showing slightly yellowed teeth.
"Um, of course! I'll drop them off at your office. Goodbye!" I'm not your personal slave, you upstuck brat. Aaarrrgh, I hate that mare.
Coco twitched and went back into the building, letting the cold air in just for a second before the door slammed closed by itself. As soon as she was alone, Strawberry Cream slumped against the wall.
"I thought she'd never leave," she sighed, pulling a Parliament cigarette out of her pocket.
