“Alright, Sweetie! Have a good day at school, dear!” Rarity called out, watching as her sister skipped down the path that lead from the Carousel Boutique.
“I will!” Sweetie chirped back, giving Rarity a wide grin. Rarity smiled back, and closed the door once Sweetie was nearly out of eyesight. Closing the door gently, her horn lit up, moving the sign on the door that stated the shop was open to its opposite side, now displaying that it was closed for the day, despite the time only being eight in the morning.
“It’s that day, again,” Rarity sighed to herself as she trotted across her workroom towards the staircase. She glanced over at one of the of the few calendars that were spread around the room, and confirmed her statement, although she didn’t need to. This day was one that she could never forget.
She supposed she just looked at calendars for a bit of... grounding. Something to make everything seem less surreal.
She had reached the stair, where a pile of mannequins and fabrics nearly obscured a whole section of the wall upon which the stair rested on. Lighting up her horn once more, Rarity levitated the fabrics away, and pressed herself against the mannequins to move them to the side. Grunting, she cringed as the bases made loud, screeching noises from being dragged across the floor.
“Oh dear...” Rarity panted, leaning down between one mannequin and the floor. “They’re quite a deal heavier than I remember... I suppose that’s what happens every year, the memories fade.”
If only.
Sighing, Rarity stood back up, and pressed against the mannequins again, forcing them off to the side completely. Taking a moment to regain her breath, the mare stood there, gasping slightly, a bit of sweat dripping from her brow. Not hesitating a moment, she produced a small, embroidered handkerchief and wiped her forehead down, quietly depositing it back into place once she was done.
“I must exercise more...” she muttered to herself. Turning to look at the patch of wall there, it looked essentially identical to the rest of the wall that the stairs were built upon, aside from the fact that some paint was peeling in a single vertical line up to the top of wall. However, once one got closer and inspected the area, it was almost possible to discern the faint lines that indicated a door.
“I’m surprised that Sweetie and her friends haven’t found this yet, what their roughhousing and penchant for discovering things best left alone...”
Rarity closed her eyes, and her horn lit up once more. A pale blue line traveled around the length of the painted over door, and it swung open, its hinges where the paint peeled the most.
Rarity walked through the doorway, turning on a single light in the room as she entered. She closed the door behind her, and observed the contents of the room, for the seventh year in a row.
It wasn’t a large room, the ceiling slanting down to the right as the staircase was descending downward, but it was big enough for Rarity to stand up straight in nearly every place but the furthest right in the room. There was a small table not three feet from her, with a small bench, and there were pictures and a single newspaper clipping up on the wall above the desk.
“I swear, this place feels more and more like the little hideaway of a madmare every time I come here,” Rarity said to herself, almost chuckling. Inside, though, she knew that there was more truth to her words than she’d ever care to admit out loud, even to herself.
Trotting over and sitting down on the bench, Rarity sighed as she looked over the contents of the surface. A thin photo album lay right before her, and laying on the desk next to it was...
A purple baby bonnet.
Rarity slowly lifted the bonnet in her hooves, looking it over with her large, blue eyes. She remembered the day she had made it; she had been up all night, obsessing over whether or not a light lilac or a royal purple would best suit it. It was almost dawn when she had decided on lilac when she had found out that all she had in her current catalogue was a basic purple. She had been far too tired to be upset, and instead just laughed and set the materials aside, heading upstairs for a much needed sleep.
She set down the bonnet, and ran her hoof over the worn surface of the desk, until she reached four little socks, midnight blue with small star patterns on them. They were only little flecks of white, but she had been trying out a new way to merge textiles... and she thought they’d come out nice. Little hoof warmers, perfect for the cold nights of the late autumn and the chilly winter.
And finally, the crowning jewel of her clothing collection contained within here: a small, white dress, meant for a filly of about the age of five. Rarity chuckled weakly upon seeing this, a sad half smile on her lips, eyes soft and wet. How could she have known her size? She had no way, that was for sure. The dress could have been much too tight, or far too loose. It was foolish of her to even stitch it before the time came.
Excitement for the future does thing to a mare.
Rarity sat in the little room, feeling an odd sensation in her gut. It seemed to permeate her entire body, radiating out from her core—a numbness she couldn’t explain, like her entire body had fallen asleep, save for the anchor of the feeling. There, it burned with unease, like she was going to be sick. Rarity lowered her head down onto the cold wooden surface of the desk, and sighed heavily.
She did a lot of sighing on these days.
Her eyes traveled up, and she glanced over the now faded pictures, of which there were many. She was in a precious few, but in those there was a light in her eyes that one would be hard pressed to find a match to these days. That particular kind of light, that gleam, had faced extinction and been extinguished.
She did not look at the pictures for very long, for her eyes always came back to the newspaper clipping. Her horn sparked, and down it floated, resting on the desk before her. Rarity turned her head so that it was now resting on her chin, and she read the old, fading print on the worn paper.
Influenza Strain Devastates Town; Three mares and five foals confirmed passed.
A single tear had welled up in the corner of her large eye, but she blinked, and it was gone, having slid down her cheek phenomenally fast, disappearing to the floor shortly after. Slowly, she levitated the newspaper snippet back to its place on the wall, and glanced over to the lower end of the room, where the ceiling made standing impossible.
Next to one another were two items, both of which she had seen only used for a week. A bright blue baby carriage was one of them, unrusted despite nearing a decade of disuse, and a mahogany crib, blankets still tucked into it.
She’d spent a week stitching those blankets herself...
Quickly tearing herself away from that corner of the room, she looked up at the wall once more, and this... this is where things were toughest for her.
Every picture on the wall was of a small filly, with a deep purple mane and a light grey coat. She was a unicorn, a cute little horn poking through the mess of her mane, already longer than most newborns’. Her eyes were blue like Rarity’s, exactly the same in fact. She had her mother’s big, sparkling eyes.
The pictures were of her in numerous places: in her crib, sleeping, in the main room of the Carousel Boutique, in her carriage out in town...
“How was I to know?” Rarity whispered as she looked at the picture of her in her carriage, staring back up at the lens with those eyes, her eyes...
The last picture, the one Rarity refused to look at until all the others had been seen, was right next to the newspaper clipping, and indeed, the only one to the left of it. It was a picture of Rarity, holding her right after she had been born into the world. Rarity looked so young in that picture, and the look on her face as she looked down at the little filly, all bundled up in the blanket the hospital gave her.
She couldn’t bear to look at that. Not for more than a moment, as a reminder.
The town was quiet about it. A lot of them knew; they knew the families that had been torn by the eight fatalities, but out of respect for them, never talked about it. Her parents were likewise quiet, having suffered the pain of losing a granddaughter. She had not met her friends yet, aside from Applejack, who had only known her from being around town. She did not speak of it.
The whole town was a shaken bottle of champagne, and she did not know how long the cork would hold. It had for seven years so far, but...
Sweetie Belle did not know. She was far too young to remember it, and because nopony spoke of it, the secret had not reached her. One day, Rarity would tell Sweetie herself, on a day somewhere off in the future when she was stronger and Sweetie was more weathered, when the filthy world would not surprise her anymore.
Rarity glanced up at the wall once more, this time at another faded piece of paper. This was not from a newspaper, though. This was a birth certificate, with the name Amethyst Belle in simple script at the top.
Rarity did not even notice she had been crying until she heard a tear strike the wooden surface of the desk. She glanced all over the entire room again, her head spinning, and swallowed hard.
“I-I do believe that’s enough for today, Rarity...” she muttered to herself as she got up from the bench. Rarity stumbled to the door, pushing it open as fast as she could. Spilling out onto the floor of her main room, she quickly closed it again, sealing the memories inside.
A few moments of pushing and gasping later, the entrance was once more concealed. Rarity lay in the center of the room on her back, breathing heavily, tears streaking her cheeks.
She hated doing it, but if she didn’t keep the memories fresh and intact, she’d lose them. And that was the only thing worse than being reminded that they were there.
Rarity could not remember a lot of what she did after that, but that was to be expected on these days. She wandered around the Carousel Boutique, not changing the sign to “open” throughout. She was in no shape to make any sales or take any commissions. She tried to work on some of her current projects, but she ended up poking the needle into her hoof more often than the fabric. She did not eat lunch.
After a bit, she glancing over up at a clock. Rarity blanched. It was already so late!
“H-how...” she stammered. “It was just the morning! It cannot already be three, that’s impossible, I just went in there, I was hardly inside it for any time at all!”
Time ticked on, as if it were mocking her.
Rarity sat straight up, feeling her mane splay out. No doubt it was unkempt and unruly. She had to locate a mane brush and get it fixed up before...
“I’m ho-ome!” called out Sweetie Belle, her voice breaking in the middle of her exclamation. Rarity tensed up, her eyes wide and her teeth clenched. The door opened with a creak, and in hopped Sweetie Belle, a wide smile on her face.
“Heya Rarity! How’re you?”
Rarity swallowed hard, her back to her sister. “O-oh, hello Sweetie. I’m quite fine, thank you. How was your day at school?”
“It was good! Went on forever, though... I’m sooo glad it’s over and I can just come home and rest. Ms. Cheerilee gave us so much work in science today, though... Rarity? Are you okay?”
Rarity had made the mistake of turning around to face her sister. “Of c-course, Sweetie. Why would you ask that?”
Sweetie Belle swallowed hard, and looked into Rarity’s eyes. “Have you been crying?”
“No!” Rarity said, quite louder than she intended. “Again, I must ask, why would you even ask—”
“Your eyes are puffy,” Sweetie Belle said softly. “And your makeup’s running.”
Rarity slowly lifted a hoof to her cheek, and slid it just under her eye. Removing it, she looked down and saw the black marks on her white fur.
She looked back at Sweetie Belle, and opened her mouth, but no words came out.
