To embellish the world

by TwiwnB

Rating: everyone
Tags: Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rarity
Length: 3967

Rarity, a painting, wrinkles, old age and fat. And ice-cream at some point, of course, why avoid the cliché?

Rarity meets a very good painter and asks him to make a painting of her. The result just differs a lot from her expectation and Rarity is launched on a quest to find out just how beautiful she really is, isn't, or can be...

Published 2014-07-30 15:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2014-07-30 15:50:01 UTC

The pony that could embellish the world

The world is a beautiful place.

Let me rephrase that: the world is a very beautiful place.

...

Now, of course, there are mosquitos, the heat of the summer might be a little difficult to endure and the wind can give you a headache or you can just feel forced to enjoy the nature while you don’t really get it to begin with.
That was Rarity’s case.

She was wandering through the fields and hills around Ponyville, like she would every Sunday, as she was convinced it was her duty as a true lady. After a while, she had told herself it was necessary for her creativity, even if it actually wasn’t. To be honest, it was only giving her a discussion subject with other high class unicorns that, just like her, would go each and every Sunday for a weekly stroll through a nature they had no real affinity with.

It wasn’t really hypocritical. Just very silly, as things are when you try to create something more than what really is.

At least it was almost over. She knew it because she could see the apple orchards of Sweet Apple Acres from the top of the hill where she was. It was about time too, as she was about to begin to sweat.
She decided to make a little pause to recover composure. Doing so, she instinctively let her look wander around. She could see the fields of high grass that she had heard would be transformed into hay somehow. It was green. She didn’t really care about those fields, they were kind of boring.
There were the orchards in the distance, with their green and red apples as so many tiny dots on the trees. It was sort of chaotic in a bad way. The trees weren’t aligned, or arranged in a good and original pattern. There were just trees, only there to bear fruits and then be forgotten.
Trees were boring too.

Rarity sighed. At least she would have something to complain about at the next meeting. The idea of the cup of very tasteful tea and the very delicate napkins were making her heart feel a little lighter.

Everything around her was just boring. Even the stallion painting on her right.

Because there was a stallion painting on her right.

Rarity emerged from her contemplative mindset. At first she thought about making sure she was looking the best she could as she usually would when there was somepony around. Then, curiosity took over and she came a little closer to see what it was all about.

“Excuse me, dear sir, my name is Rarity.” she began by presenting herself as one should always do.

But her words ceased there. Her eyes had lay down on the paintings and couldn’t go off them. The sun shut off, all lights went out, and then the world seemed to reboot around Rarity, with more colors, more intoxicating scents, more joy and life everywhere, from the birds in the sky to under the smallest of rock.

“Oh, please excuse me, I hadn’t notice you were there. My name is Nimble Brush. How do you do?”

The sounds around Rarity’s ears were like a giant and melodic symphony, mixing the chants of the animals and the wind through the branches, the flow of the river and the words of a pony. The unicorn felt like she was about to faint out of pleasure, but her eyes still fixed on the paintings suddenly felt attracted by the pictures and she began to feel both afraid and excited by the impression she was being sucked into them.

“Miss, are you feeling okay?” asked the stallion, having received no answer, and seeing the weird expression of pleasure on Rarity’s face.

Finally the unicorn came out of the paintings and awkwardly looked at the stallion, unable to really know how to react.

“Oh, yes, of course.” She began, hesitating. “I’m quite alright in fact, it’s just… those pictures of yours. They are truly amazing.”

Nimble Brush blushed.

“Thank you miss. It is very kind of you to say that.”

“Kindness has nothing to do with it.” Replied Rarity, almost shocked at the idea the stallion would misunderstand her there. “Those paintings are really wonderful in every possible way. I must say I haven’t seen anything that beautiful for a very long time, if at all. The way you captured the fields and the orchards is incredible.”

And she believed every single word she was saying. Now, after having seen those paintings, she could watch the fields and the orchards in a totally new light. The grass was suddenly showing a new complete palette of green from dark spring green to Paris green, with touches of fern green, forest green and a bit of avocado green, all seemingly flying freely under the soft caress of the wind in a harmonious dance.
The orchards in the distance were like an explosion of red dots, like a firework full of energy and life. All those red dots in the middle of that big amount of green felt like the bright stars in the middle of the big giant sky.

“Miss?” asked Brush, as Rarity had once again let herself slip into the dreaming.

“How do you do that?” she asked him in return, amazed at such talent.

“Do what?” asked the stallion.

“Embellish the world.” Explained Rarity. “How do you achieve to make the world look so much more beautiful?”

“I’m not sure… I don’t know.” Replied Nimble Brush, as he hadn’t really thought about that.

But already, Rarity’s mind was racing through the inevitable conclusion.
At first, she thought she had found the perfect subject of discussion for her future tea meeting. But she quickly realized she had found more than that.
Then, she thought she had found the inspiration for her dresses and she thought of rushing towards her shop and go back to work immediately. Still, it was feeling like there was more than she was imagining there.
At a point, she thought she wanted to buy one of the pictures, and in fact, she wanted to, but it had to be the perfect picture.

And it finally struck her.

“Could you paint something if I were to ask you? Could you embellish it like you did for the rest?” She asked the stallion.

He hesitated.

“I only paint what I see.” He replied.

“That’s even better.” Said Rarity, who was now obsessed with her idea. “So would you accept to paint for me?” she asked with her most charming smile, the one she would always use when trying to get something from a stallion.

Once again, Nimble Brush blushed, even harder than before, and quickly replied:

“Yes, of course I can miss. What is it I should paint?”

“I want you to paint me!” she almost ordered.

This was her plan. Even more, this was her destiny. She ignored the awkward reaction of the painter as he was realizing the situation and began to find out what the best pose would be for her to be painted in.
This was going to be so perfect. Rarity had always tried to look the best she could and had had, in her opinion, quite some success in that field. But now, she had met somepony who could make her even more beautiful than she already was. She would go away with a painting of her as the true goddess looking pony she wanted to be.
Vanity maybe, but it was feeling like an accomplishment.

“You want me to paint you’” asked Nimble Brush again, trying to figure out what he was going to do.

“I would like that very much, yes.” Rarity replied, coming close to him, knowing that she had the power to persuade stallions into doing her bidding. “Please do that for me.” She added with a gentler and nicer voice.

Now Nimble Brush literally looked like a big apple, completely red from the blood pressure, sweating and it was his turn to be about to faint after an outburst of emotions. Still, he hold on to what he knew, which was painting, and decided to do it the best way he could.

“Don’t worry about the result.” Rarity said, trying to comfort the painter as she didn’t want him to fail due to stress. “Just do what you usually do.”

He still seemed a little uneasy, so she added, remembering his own words:

“Just paint what you see.”

She had taken a very suggestive pose saying that, instinctively trying to look marvelous at that moment. Still, those words seemed to inspire Nimble Brush and he began to paint as if he had been struck by a lightning, with a lot of passion and excitement.

Rarity smiled internally as externally. This was her victory. It was going to take some time, a lot of smiling on her part, but once again, she had gained what she wanted. She would become more beautiful.

She began to wait for the miracle to happen.

But after a long while, Rarity began to wonder if Nimble Brush still remembered he was supposed to paint her. He had maybe been looking at her a dozen times in a whole hour and she had changed poses so many times without him even reacting to it. She had almost fallen asleep at some point and still it didn’t seem to matter.
She would have probably getting upset if he hadn’t suddenly almost shouted:

“It’s finished!”

He looked very satisfied of his work and that satisfaction assured Rarity it was a big success. She rushed to his side to look at the masterpiece and time froze to never run again.

“What? Who…?” began to ask Rarity, not knowing if she should be disappointed, furious, sad, happy, confused, or against whom her anger should be headed.

“Don’t you like it?” Nimble Brush asked, suddenly worried by Rarity’s reaction.

No, she didn’t like it. That was something she was certain of. It was her on that painting, she could recognize herself, in fact she had great eyes in that picture, but tired eyes, old eyes, circled with wrinkles. Her whole face was showing the damages of time. She was smiling for some reason on the picture, but Rarity couldn’t find out why. Her mane was pretty well brushed, but not as well as it usually would be. The color of her mane was lighter, under the pressure of grey hairs. Rarity almost suffocated when she realized she was fatter on the picture than in reality. Nimble Brush had even added a foal and a filly around her that were showing, by contrast, how old and tired she was looking.
She definitely didn’t like it, but she didn’t understand either.

Brush had painted the fields and embellished them. He had painted the apple orchards and embellished them. He had done such a great job. She couldn’t comprehend why he hadn’t embellished her too. Why he had decided to make her look old and tired instead.

She was too confused to tell Brush head on that this wasn’t what she wanted at all. This wasn’t making much sense. In fact, she was beginning to think that he was pranking her, that it was all just a joke, a very insulting joke, and she didn’t want to give him the pleasure to admit she was feeling hurt.

“Oh I do like it.” She said, clearly lying. “It’s… original.”

She thought of adding that she liked the depiction of the mane, but she didn’t find the strength to make that lie too.

“Here, take it, it’s yours.” Nimble Brush said.

“What?” Rarity responded in surprise.

“I’m offering it to you. My vision of you.”

He looked so genuine saying those words that it almost frightened Rarity. If he was making fun of her, then he was a master in manipulation. If he was genuine, then he was the most stupid pony there could be to think she would be pleased by such an insulting painting.
With no way of knowing, she took the picture, thanked him to keep on her polite disguise, then fled as fast as she could back to her home.

The beautiful mare seeking beauty

Rarity came into her house, forgot to shut the door, threw the picture into a corner and directly went to the nearest mirror she could find. She looked at herself, afraid of what was going to appear, but there she was, as magnificent as usual. Her mane was perfectly brushed and the hairs were flowing following the exact patterns she wanted while shining in their superb bright color. Her eyes were seductive and burning with an internal fire, circled only by the most precise and most well applied make-up. No trace of any wrinkle, no trace of any fat whatsoever. She was fit, she was young, she was still beautiful.

“He was only pranking me. It was all a bad joke.” She told herself out loud.

Still, she was afraid. Was she only beautiful in her own eyes? Was she blind to her own decline? She needed somepony else as a mirror, as, at that moment, she couldn’t trust just herself.

She went back to the hall of her house, saw the painting in a corner and said:

“What does he know anyway!?”

Then she rushed outside, directly to Twilight’s castle.

“Do I look fat to you?” she asked.

The guard at the entrance tried to understand what was going on, if one of the elements of harmony was hitting on him and how he should react.

“No, of course not.” He replied awkwardly. “Do you want to enter?”

Rarity ignored him. He might have been lying. Stallions tended to lie a lot about how mares look. Like Nimble Brush who had been smiling to her all along. She needed a true friend to tell her the truth about how she looked.

“Rarity?” Twilight asked. “What is going on?”

“Oh, it’s nothing really.” Rarity replied. “I was just wondering if you might be as kind to me as to tell me if I’m looking older than usual.”

It took Twilight about ten seconds to simply process the question. And still it wasn’t making sense.

“Well…” she tried to reply in a logical way, “You do are older than yesterday, as anypony is with time passing, so I guess you must look older than usual depending on the definition. Why?”

Rarity gasped, all her fears taking over with what she was considering as a confirmation. She jumped on Twilight, grasped her and asked with the most dramatic tone:

“Do I look fat Twilight? Please tell me! Do I look fat?”

The thought of calling the guards passed through Twilight’s mind. But only for a moment. Understanding that the problem was more emotional than rational, she changed her mindset, understood her previous mistake, and replied:

“Of course not.”

That was a new mistake that she immediately recognized. Mixing a negation with a positive reinforcement. Emotional talk was hard.

“Rarity, you are fit, very fit. Heck, you’re as fit as I am.” Twilight finally said.

“As you are?” Rarity replied with way much more fright than was politely possible.

“Don’t push it.” Twilight said, not in the mood to let herself be criticized. “Are you going to explain now?”

Rarity would have liked to explain, but then again, she had no idea what was really going on. Could she really say that she was on the point of crying because of a painting? Was it really making any sense? Would Twilight understand her turmoil?
She realized that she couldn’t get the truth from Twilight. She was her friend, so of course she would lie to her if she thought it would make her feel okay. She needed an unbiased opinion. Somepony who couldn’t lie at all.

“I can’t explain, I’ve got to go!” Rarity suddenly told Twilight, knowing what she had to do now. “Thanks for everything. Thanks for not wanting to hurt my feelings.”

And she left a very confused Twilight to rush to Sweet Apple Acres, and to Applejack.

“Look Rarity…” began the farm pony. “I’ve got quite a lot of work today, so it would make things a lot easier if you would tell me what is going on.”

“I just want you to tell me if I look like a hideous monster!” almost complained the white unicorn, as it seemed like a reasonable very easy question.

“It depends on what you call a monster…” Applejack replied. “You sure have a way to make things look complicated.”

“So I do look like a monster?” gasped Rarity, certain to have the confirmation to her fears.

Applejack sighed.

“You are no monster Rarity.” She told her. “I don’t know a lot of things about beauty and stuff, I mean, beauty is just beauty and a pony can look beautiful in the eye of somepony and not in the eye of another one. It’s one of the reasons why you shouldn’t care too much about it.”

The two big puppy eyes of Rarity were begging for more than such a semi answer. Applejack sighed again and added:

“For all I can tell, you do are beautiful sugarcube.”

Rarity burst out of joy. This had to be true if Applejack was saying it.

“So I don’t have any wrinkles?” she asked.

“No you don’t.” Applejack replied.

“And I’m not fat?” she asked again.

“No you don’t.”

“No grey hairs in my mane?”

“No.”

“Any wart I should be concerned about?”

“No, no, no and no!” Exploded Applejack. “How many times do I have to tell you? I might not be an expert, but you are beautiful and that’s final. Now please stop pestering me with that.”

It struck Rarity like a boulder would have. Applejack was no expert on beauty. Not that Applejack was ugly in any way, but Rarity would have certainly liked, and had already tried several times, to improve certain aspects, like the care of the mane, the clothes, the use of make-up, the poses, the smile, the looks, the care of the fur, and getting rid of all the dirt and working traces as well as using some more sophisticated perfume. Basically making some huge changes.
Applejack was probably saying the truth, but her truth, with her non expert eyes. This wasn’t sufficient for Rarity.

What if there were defaults Applejack was overlooking? What if she wasn’t able to see the wrinkles, and the fat, and the grey hairs?
This was driving her crazy. She forgot to thank Applejack and ran back to her home to mourn.

By chance, she had her emergency stack of ice-cream. It didn’t matter if it were to make her fatter, as she was probably fat already. And old. And ugly… She had wanted to get rid of the painting, but had ended contemplating it while eating. She still couldn’t understand. How had her beauty gone by so fast that she hadn’t been able to see it? She felt like she hadn’t really had the time to enjoy it. Or to share it.

She was beginning to wonder if it was so important for her to be so beautiful all the time after all. Now that she wasn’t anymore, why keep one caring about that? It would make her life so much easier not to care anymore and not to make any effort anymore. The tasteful ice-cream certainly wasn’t contradicting her there.
She had been so used to be beautiful and told she was beautiful for so long that she had ceased to think about what it meant to be ugly. All she remembered about that concept was that it was terrible to be ugly. It was sort of a sin.

She rose from her sofa. She couldn’t be ugly, she had no right to accept such a situation. If a dress was ugly, she could make it beautiful again. If the world was ugly, she could embellish it. It she happened to be ugly, then she would have to work twice as hard to change it.

Then her eyes lay down on the painting. It was the cause, the reason she was ugly. Nopony had said anything before that painting had come to the world. All she would have to do was to destroy it to cut the roots of her problem.
Rarity began to snigger maniacally. Quickly, she lit a fire in the chimney and, as soon as she saw the flames, took the picture into her hooves with the intent to throw it into the fire.

Beautiful eyes that see

“Hello!” shouted Pinkie Pie, startling Rarity as she was coming out from the chimney, completely ignoring the smoke and the heat.

“Pinkie Pie? What are you doing into my chimney?” the unicorn asked, as curious as she was concerned about her friend safety.

“What are you doing?” Pinkie asked. “Are you going to hang that painting over the chimney? It must be a very valuable one!”

The apparition of the pink earth pony had made Rarity simmer down, and it seemed silly now to burn the painting, as if it was going to change anything whatsoever. The whole thing seemed silly at this point and in regard to Pinkie Pie’s genuine smile.

“Oh, that’s you!” Pinkie stated, looking at the painting.

“Yes, it’s me.” Confirmed Rarity.

“You look old and fat!” joyfully added Pinkie Pie.

Rarity clenched her teeth, swallowed her pride and just said, while looking away not to show how upsetting it was to her.

“Yes, I know…” she just said.

“Who are the little children?” Pinkie asked. “I like the little children. Are they yours?”

Sometimes, Pinkie Pie just didn’t know when to stop. This was the line for Rarity. She didn’t want to think about the picture, she knew how she looked on it, and she would have hoped Pinkie would have taken the hint. As she wasn’t ready to hold back for an entire discussion, she just said, very straight:

“No, they are not mine! Of course they are not mine! I don’t have any filly or foal of my own and I don’t intend to for a lot of years. I’ve got a life to live while I’m still young! Maybe I’m going to have children way later, when I’ll be older and…”

She stopped there and Pinkie Pie smiled. The two mares looked at each other and Pinkie’s eyes seemed to say: “It was obvious, right?” or “I like sugary things, do you want to finish all that ice-cream by yourself?”. Rarity was unable to say if her friend was a genius or just very naïve.

“Thank you Pinkie, thank you so much!” Rarity said.

Then, she took her most beautiful hat and went out, ignoring Pinkie’s reply that was involving some unfinished ice-cream…

Rarity found back the hill where she had encountered Nimble Brush and, to her relief, he was still there, painting. But this time, he seemed to have seen her coming and stopped as she approached.

“Hello miss Rarity. How are you doing?” he said, while blushing a little.

“You, sire, are coming with me.” She answered.

“What? Now?”

“I have certainly no intention to wait. Do you?”

He had no idea. But it was too tempting to refuse.

“Where are we going?” he asked, while gathering all his painting stuff.

“To have dinner of course. After all, I still know nothing about you.”

“Dinner?” asked Nimble Brush, still confused, but very pleased with the way this was going.

“Yes.” Rarity gently replied, while displaying a very kind smile. “I might let you embellish my world.”

She giggled.

“Who knows.” She added, “I might even embellish yours.”

THE END