Rarity's Warming Eve

Chapters

Scene 1
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Scene 6

Scene 1

Dear Coco Pommel,

Has it been so long already? I guess it is true that autumn is already coming to a silent close, eclipsed by the white of the coming snow. It only reminds me that so much time has passed since the time we met in Manehattan. I wonder if you heard about one of my best friends getting a luxurious new home. To speak lightly of it anyway….but I can’t help but feel a bit…jealous of…even though it’s been something I’ve been struggling to keep contained. So with all that going on, I haven’t had the time to contact you. What became of your work with the theatre? I ask because I have yet another grand opportunity for a young designer such as yourself if you’re willing to travel far to see me. You were the first pony that came to mind in fact. Contact me posthaste at this address. It’s my home/boutique in Ponyville. Well, bye for now.

Cordially,
Rarity

P.S, I apologize for the short letter. I have to get to work right away. I know you understand.

Her letter was tucked into the envelope like a newborn foal into a blanket. Rarity’s custom stationary had not bent or folded even one millimeter out of place as she pressed her hoof down. The tool she used was the size of the rook piece from her mother’s old chess set. The wax that flowed up the edges of it now began to harden. After she had set the thing aside, Rarity looked at the letter as a sheath of light blue shimmered about it like it was at the bottom of a pool. The seal, the letter “R” in a circle of deep red. There is nothing that can’t be bettered with a little comfort.

She let the letter hang in the air as her hooves clipped against the floor on the way to the front door. She normally detested trotting in the boutique but she ignored the striking sounds like tap dancing that echoed off both mirrors and ceiling. It made her want to buff the floor so her image reflects off the white as though on the surface of a pond obscured by drifting mud and algae. It wasn’t exactly cleaning day so she ignored that thought and hurried out…before she changed her mind. Her magic simultaneously swung the door on its brass hinges while it carried the letter.

On her doorstep, her eyes squirmed in her eyelids – they are not to be touched as they are indeed too glorious to be ruined- as the real light of the sun, though filtered by a cloud cover mimicking the texture of soaked cotton, blasted into them. For a moment, she let her train of thought dissolve as she gazed over the close countryside on the edge of town. After all that her friends had done to ward off the encroaching arrival of autumn’s yearly shedding, the battle to save her lawn has been in vain. Leaves are like old crumbling garbage to her and after a rain, merely seeing them can turn her stomach almost as badly as when hair clogs one of her sinks. She turned around and hoped to see the mail carrier zip down the road to her house. There was no sight of him and she couldn’t even catch his distinct scent. The stench of bog from the north, of rich earth and a swirl of decay, was all around her. The smell and the chill against her tongue and in her throat was not just a promise but a threat of the first snow. She couldn’t wait a second longer and made sure the letter was securely fastened. Her hoof slipped twice but finished it then she bolted back inside.

She made a sort of whimper that passed through clenched teeth before her voice settled into a sigh as soon as she closed the door. Her eyes readjusted to the light of lanterns and her pulse slowed with the knowledge that all the natural world was well behind her door, far enough away to ignore in safety. She was secure in her cloister and within it, her mind began to pace itself like a hamster in a wheel; she had been in a delicate planning stage for more than two weeks and as usual she left nearly nothing to chance. She knew that every last second will have to be put to use if she was going to have everything in a state of perfection next week. She couldn't be certain who would be there, judging her craft. Maybe nopony special but she can hardly take the risk. She could just imagine some celebrity designer coming unexpectedly, hidden away in the crowd, catching her off guard. Definitely not completely out of the question. It would be far more damaging to work half-heartedly and be written off than to try her best and not get noticed. Perfection is a must anyway, so deeply engrained like a code of conduct, something personal that must be upheld no matter the cost.

She walked to the far side of the room. Next to her own dressing room and along the wall that loops around to the staircase, several plastic barrels that were taller than a foal were stacked in a row alongside mega rolls of fabrics and a pyramid of jars. Rarity might have said before that all that would be too much to handle but this was different, and such a project would need more than its fair share of materials. It was a dream of hers to have so much and to delve into it all ever since she first started designing clothes. She still managed to overpower the urge for two whole days and barely thought of touching it. Last night, her tail merely grazed it and her heart fluttered at the prospect of seeing what was inside. Her plans were written, rechecked and finalized; she was ready to check out what treasures of fashion awaited her.

She giggled to herself as a hoof twisted off the top of one of the large barrels. It fell and spun on the floor. Inside, a bunch of plastic wraps that looked like pillows were stuffed on top of each other. She could barely see the dark blue flakes inside so she used a pair of scissors to cut a line, creating a fair opening. Once she revealed the contents to the light, she gasped and flashed her stainless teeth. Her hoof went in like a farmer inspecting grains of wheat and scooped some of the sequins, and felt their weight. She then let them slip from her grasp and back into the bag with the others.

She had torn into several of the bags before hearing a familiar clop coming from upstairs. Having paid no attention to it until the sound was in her midst, she turned her head to see her familiar guest. As she approached, it was so easy to notice that she greets the morning with a little less hostility than she used to; maybe even a smile like she was doing that moment. Sure, every filly needs her rest but when it’s time to ruffle the duvet early then it was becoming more likely that Sweetie Belle could be trusted to rise and wake even as early as Rarity herself.

Sweetie Belle stopped and picked up a jar, turning it in her hooves. She stared at it like it could contain something a foal would like, something that Rarity felt somewhat estranged from. Sweetie’s curls bounced as she peered closer. She then backed away as her interest faded. That’s her sister; she must have been up for an hour to get them just right. Rarity caught a scent of lavender; when did she start wearing it? Sweetie always liked the fruity scents like cherry, peach or even strawberry that made her smell like a fruit salad, the sort of smell that even ants could be distracted by during a summer picnic.

She put the jar down. The glass settled with a clack against the metal lid of another. “That’s a lot of stuff, Rarity” Sweetie said, eyeing the cloth rolls up and down, guessing their weight.

“And I’m going to need every last bit of it” Rarity replied. She used her magic to float the jar upward and twisted the lid off. Inside, a mass of silver glitter shifted inside like a sand dune struck by the wind. The choice of glitter was the right fit for one of the costumes thought of in her head. Nothing she ordered: the silks, furs, jewels, metals or accessories strayed far from classical artist’s interpretation of the Hearth’s Warming Eve pageantry; the same art has influenced it for many years and Rarity believed that imitation was the sincerest form of flattery.

“Are you sure? There are only going to be a few ponies there” Sweetie Belle surmised. She looked back and met Rarity’s wide-eyed gaze.

“On the contrary, there will be more than you think” Rarity said, putting the jar back down. She stepped back to her table and scooped up her calligraphy things to return upstairs.

“Yeah, I guess you’re right”. Sweetie Belle followed her as she turned around for her room. She wanted to return those things to the closet so she can begin the actual costume designing that night. But as they headed up the stairs, it was obvious to her that something was a little off. Rarity has always had an eye out for her sister, always looking out for how she’s doing whenever her voice could be heard. Her mother always said that the sudden bursts of squeaking that accentuated her voice was just her being overloaded with sweetness. Now, Rarity could only hear the hoof steps she only hoped wasn’t laden with depression. This unknown side of her sister bothered Rarity. It didn’t seem normal for the foal not to be racing to cheer her up. Rather, she seemed to lag in spirit and her head was a lead balloon. She couldn’t help but think why she has to face all this now, on the week before Equestria’s greatest holiday. But Rarity has never turned her sister away before and she wasn’t going to start now.

In her room, the brush and stationary were returned back to her tool closet. The work room was a mess by most standards but still looked far too organized for her tastes. It already felt like it’s going to be an all-nighter even in the late afternoon sun. She went and sat on a red pillow while Sweetie kept standing. These were two sisters, just sharing a few words in the fading sunlight.

“Sweetie, do you miss your friends?” she asked.

The filly rubbed the back of her neck, a sort of thing Rarity found to be less than lady-like. “Well, I do miss them but I don’t feel bad about it or anything”.

Rarity lightly chewed on her lower lip but only for a split second. She wished she had at least a cup of tea to occupy her mouth in between her chances to speak. “It just seems like you are feeling…under the weather” she said. Rarity had to focus on her sister’s feelings, anything to prevent the talk from drifting towards work and success of all things. If only to prevent herself from changing the subject.

“It’s nothing like that” Sweetie Belle insisted. “I understand that we stayed at home for a pretty good reason. All our friends are gone but I don’t feel bad for them because they’re going to see a great show next week and maybe they might even see the castle”.

The mental thought of her five friends enjoying the sights of their fair capital, her home away from home, made her smile. “With us together, it’s almost like this is going to be our play…here in this town of ours” Rarity said.
Sweetie’s back arched with her front hooves digging into the carpet, holding herself steady. “You don’t have to say that. The mayor didn’t commission all that stuff you got downstairs for us”. Rarity hasn’t seen that face in years. It was her own when she used to stare in mirrors for sometimes hours at a time when she designed for school plays. It was like her trials were being passed down: her will to overcome the looming fear of rejection, the haunting quest for purpose, the horrendous itch to rise over mediocrity. Even her reassuring hoof on the filly’s shoulder was the same her teacher gave her all those years ago. Rarity couldn’t deny that the view was so different on the other side.

“Sweetie, just because you’re not playing the lead, it doesn’t mean you aren’t part of a great ensemble. My costumes are nothing more than your accessories”.

Her sister stared at the ground. Her eyes looked empty and shallow. “But that’s all they ever notice. Hearth’s Warming Eve will be no different”.

“I promise that won’t be the case” Rarity said, sighing. “Aren’t you in a singing role this year? It’s about time somepony starts to recognize your natural talent”.

Sweetie groaned. “Oh, yeah. I’ll be Filly Unicorn #3. Good for me”. Rarity almost felt infected by her negative thoughts. No matter how much time passed, the rift of jealousy that hung over the two sisters, threatening to pull them apart, never relented. It’s always been about not enough time, not enough patience, not enough love. Their relationship has always been a system of lacking. Even though she could no more stand against their history than face down hurricane winds, Rarity still had one option left. And as much as Sweetie wanted to whine, she would find it impossible soon enough. A sister always has something special saved for occasions such as this, when they have to pull together no matter what.

Rarity sauntered towards her work table, where she set her chipped red glasses upon the top of her nose, and tipped the end of it to make it straight. “Sweetie Belle, could you perhaps be a dear and retrieve the rest of the materials from downstairs?” she asked. She had even dipped her muzzle downward which Sweetie didn’t notice.
“Absolutely” she grumbled. In a flash, she was already down the stairs, and her hooves slammed on every step and rattled the pictures on the wall. She soon returned, with a barrel that could fit her entire body trailing behind. She came and set it down near the wall.

“Thank you very much” Rarity said. Without lifting a hoof, she withdrew all her equipment and had her sewing machine prepped. By the time Sweetie brought the last jar, her belly sagged and her breaths were drawn out wheezes. Even her smooth mane now had strands flung every which way.

Sweetie looked in a mirror and bounced one of her curls with the end of her hoof. “I got everything up here” she declared. Sweetie didn’t know it but her older sister’s plans were finally taking shape. Rarity had not only accounted for but planned for Sweetie’s arrival and now she knew the time had come.

Rarity cleared her throat. “Sweetie Belle, you’ve really done so much to help me since you came. I know you’re supposed to be training your voice but I know you can do more than that. What would you say to working alongside me”? The filly’s energy came back and she rose to all four of her hooves.

“Really as in actually helping my older sis”? She spun around a couple times but stopped as if a thought had interrupted her celebrating, made her anticipate some sort of catch to be sprung on her. “By ‘working’, do you mean go to the town store and get you more material”?

“I have more than enough” Rarity said. She showed Sweetie Belle one of her designs for the play, a foal’s costume, an old fashioned design fit for the unicorns of old. “I thought it would…mean more for you to wear something you made yourself. I designed it, yes…but it still has to be put together”. As the words soaked in, forcing their way through her sister’s head, the formerly wound muscles near her spine and neck loosened like Rarity’s own after a trip to the spa. It was more than she had hoped for and what she got was a spark of creativity and if it was anything like her own, it would be a hotbed of desire. She could only wonder why she had not seen it until now.

“I can’t wait” Sweetie squealed. “When do we start”?

Rarity sweeps an errant hair from her muzzle. “We actually don’t have a moment to lose. We will begin now and will not likely stop till long after the moon has aged”.

“Are you sure you can do all this by yourself”?

Rarity chuckled. “I’m sure I can but not in a week. I’m going to ask my friend from Manehattan to come. The two of us should have the costumes handled with time to spare”. Of course, what Rarity left out was that she was more than just counting on Coco Pommel to show up. Literally everything hung in the balance. And if she didn’t, then it might not matter if there were no celebrities to trash the play. The ponies that were there would make sure that all of Equestria would know about it before long. But she didn’t do anything but smile because at least her sister was there and she shouldn’t think about anything except being in that room and listening to the sound of stitching all night.

Scene 2

My Dear Friend Rarity,

It has been an odd many months since you came into my life. I had been thinking about you as a matter of fact when your letter was slipped under my door. It’s like that because I live in an apartment building where all our mail is sorted out by one pony. I’ve been getting more and more of it ever since I got that job at the theatre and I have you to thank. I’m getting offers for work all the time! They all want to see the pony recommended by Ponyville’s famous Rarity. As for traveling, I would be more than honored. Of course the weather is rather chilly. The sea is so icy and cold that I seldom go out anymore. I heard that the central lands are much tamer. But last week, I went out and bought a most delicious chocolate truffle…..

Coco’s words hadn’t changed in the tenth time Rarity scanned the letter since she received it. And every time, she found a new reason to smile or to laugh. Thank Celestia that the Pegasus are in charge of mail delivery. She loved how Coco’s script looped and twirled across the parchment. Coco is one of the few that can work a fountain pen as well as she can. It was quite a different sight after being used to Twilight’s no-nonsense type or the scratching of Rainbow Dash. She can even hold the letter close and smell the iron from the black ink like some long for the smell of candy or muffins. It was Manehattan writing, a part of the city in her very room.

The warmth of red rays turned the windowsill golden and washed over her back. Songbirds twittered in her own tree, the one across from the window that she had known since she was little. On her desk, an empty mug still held a trace of the coffee she drained in mere seconds. Soon, her sister would be awake and about as active as a sloth no doubt. She ought to try coffee one of these days. She turned and faced the tantalizing blue of the sky. The weather was actually faring well for once. The few clouds out there looked like they were lined with silver. She removed the latch and pushed the window open. She peered outward past the icicle laden roof and down the road as far as she could see.

The hills were coated in snow so thick that a pony could ski down the slopes with ease. The roads that branch out from the center of town had to be plowed and scraped to prevent the daily accumulation of ice from making travel impossible. Even from here, she heard the shrill of the arriving trains. She knew that the last one was more than an hour ago. Rarity wondered what was keeping her friend. She tried to drive off thoughts of the worst that could happen like slipping on a layer of ice and twisting a hoof. It sounded too dreadful to bear, for her friend and for herself.

Rarity shivered from both the thought and the winter air. At least she had double paned windows to keep out the latter. She hated what the cold did to her, chapping her lips and giving her muscles an occasional ache, especially when outside. She much preferred sitting by a fire and reading or knitting or doing anything but waiting for something to happen on its own. She went downstairs and poured a second cup of coffee. She drank this one slow, almost relaxing in its heat; and as the steam rose into her face, she heard her sister enter the kitchen. They said good morning to each other.

Sweetie, with all the grace of Spike during a gem eating binge, tried to serve herself some juice from a tall glass pitcher and managed to spill it all over the countertop.

“Sweetie Belle, why can’t you use magic for once?” Rarity said, berating her. She hurried and used a towel to soak it up.

The filly backed off and watched. “I’m trying…I really am” she muttered.

Rarity sighed as she smeared the orange against the towel. “Just go and stand watch for my friend by the front windows”. As much as she didn’t want to appear as the harsh mare, with a whip in one hoof and an attitude that could scare a full grown stallion, she’s always been used to being in charge not just over her sister but in her life in general. She’s always known what she wanted and exactly how to get it. But hearing Sweetie leave without a word almost made her want to turn and apologize. She knows how sensitive the subject of magic can be to Unicorns, especially the young ones, but it’s a part of growing up and she must be there to teach her little sister what is really the finer points of life. There is no way to negotiate on that and if it requires a little harshness once in a while then so be it.

She thought about what to make for breakfast that wouldn’t make a mess, but her concentration was broken when she heard Sweetie open the front door. She turned and found herself trotting through the kitchen into the parlor. She saw Sweetie holding the door ajar. Rarity was about to comment on letting the heat out when she saw Coco Pommel through the oval window, walking toward the door. She carried a black leather purse with its golden handle secured in her mouth. A few other bags were heard plopping on the frozen grass outside her door. Rarity pushed it open and saw her friend checking her hair in a hoof mirror. She slapped it closed and beamed towards her Ponyville friend.

It was almost not possible to believe what she saw before her. Coco looked better than ever. She wore a cashmere sweater so white that it could blend in the hills if it wasn’t for its huge buttons that looked like cherries. Her usual reddish-orange flower on her head had a fine layer of snow on it that looked like powdered sugar. It was as if her body was decked in winter’s frozen glory.

Rarity nudged Sweetie out of the way and they put a hoof around each other, going for a familiar pat on the back or shoulder. “Coco…you look so good!” she stammered. Her eyes are magnifying lenses and she can easily see how the sweater was stitched together and the style wasn’t exactly mediocre. She can even discern the exact shade of her lipstick; a violet not found readily in any old village. Her fur looked polished in the light. There was no way to be subtle about it. Her friend belonged in a magazine.

Coco dragged her luggage inside, a mere three bags, while Rarity had made fresh tea. By contrast, Sweetie had brought six and she was skimping this time. They all sipped it while they talked about each other’s lives and the towns and cities around them. Coco had made a lot of money from her job working for the theatre. Without a boss to answer to, she didn’t have to share what she earned and she always worked on her dresses alone, even when she did have one. She got a better apartment, one that wasn’t cramped on the bottom floor. It wasn’t a suite but it also wasn’t filled with three roommates which made it feel as wide as a gymnasium. It even had a view of the sea and while she’s drafting her latest designs, she can taste the salt in the air and even hear the horns of the ships while they depart for some part of Equestria she’s never been to. She can hold her head up higher and when she dreams, they take her all over the city. She mentioned that it was like being an Alicorn.

Rarity had to admit to herself that a fair amount of pride was felt in her heart. If it wasn’t for her and her generosity, where would Coco be now? Still working for some hustling rip-off of a mare that took all the profit and fame for what her own hooves had slaved over? Well, it didn’t happen on her watch and now her friend sits and nibbles at a piece of pumpkin cake far enough to avoid crumbs falling on that sweater of hers that probably cost her a thousand bits at least.

Coco taps at the edge of a tea cup and places the steel spoon upon its rest. “Your sister is quite the filly, Rarity” she said, grinning. “The Cutie Mark Crusaders… I’ve never heard of that and it has a chapter in my very own city”.

“It hasn’t been there for that long” Sweetie added.

“It’s still cute. I should mention it to my friend that works for Manehattan Youth Weekly. Foals love it. She would just adore what you’re doing”.

Rarity caught Sweetie wincing as if she had swallowed a spoonful of throat medicine. Good thing Coco had been swirling the lemon wedge in her tea at the moment. Sweetie better not ruin it with her silliness. It’s not like the fillies with their emblems and little red capes aren’t cute but maybe she thinks she’s too old to think of her club like that anymore.

“The Cutie Mark club isn’t just cute, it’s productive too” Rarity told her. That caught Coco’s attention. “Working on their performances has made my sister into quite the designer, if I may say so myself. Perhaps you will like to see what she can accomplish”?

“That will make an excellent transition to our work” Coco said. “But before that, I would like to give you both gifts as a measure of thanks for welcoming me with open hooves. I had taken the liberty and bought the delightful trinkets from a few places I spied on the way here this morning”.

Rarity shrugged her shoulders and smiled. “It…sounds great”. She wasn’t sure whether to expect much as Coco laid out a number of Hearth’s Warming Eve gifts across the table. There was the standard gingerbread house and novelty snow globes with old timey looking images from when they used to celebrate the holiday in years past. Ponies wearing lots of glitter. Long hats and reddish cheeks are abound. Sweetie grinned when she saw a tin box full of sugar coated peppermint cookies in a basket with a bottle of holiday cider. Rarity knew she couldn’t wait to eat one.

The three of them headed upstairs into Rarity’s work room. Coco had taken off her sweater and it was hung in the coatrack. The heated air was making her sweat a little. As Sweetie pointed out the closet and all the devices that Rarity uses to craft her fashion mark on the world, she went and pulled the window open by a few centimeters to let Coco at least breathe some of the winter air that leaked inside. Rarity hoped that for her sake, she’ll get used to the dry warmth of her home and maybe even prefer it over having to sleep with three blankets at night. Sweetie had opened the closet where her handiwork was displayed. When she saw it, Coco cocked her head to the side and put a hoof to her mouth as she sat in a chair. Rarity could not hardly discern what she was thinking. She always thought that the longer somepony took to reflect emotion towards art or fashion, the deeper or more profound it must be. Being her sister’s work, she wanted to believe in that more than ever. Still, most ponies that saw her work let their feelings run freely. When even fashion made from hotel knickknacks earned an applause from an audience, it felt weird for her silence to continue to draw itself out.

Coco finally broke her gaze with the costume and caught Sweetie Belle’s long stare. She smiled, seemingly at a rush to find the words to describe it. The ponies barely moved. Only the faint clattering of wheels from the road made its way inside, perhaps belonging to Mr. Green Hooves as he went on an errand on this winter day.

“Wow…it’s wonderful. Charming, even” she said, her words sounding forced. Rarity had never even heard somepony say ‘wow’ amongst her work; what sort of word is that to use? Brief and vulgar, that is what it is. She kept her mouth shut as Sweetie nodded.

“I’m glad you liked it” her sister replied.

Coco stepped off the chair. “May I go to your powder room, Rarity”?

“Yes, you may. Sweetie, please show her downstairs”.

The two of them headed down while Rarity looked at the costume for Filly Unicorn #3. She had glanced at it before; many times in fact. Seeing it straight on was a completely different thing as if she was wearing her glasses with a coating of petroleum jelly before. The stitching stood out like railroad tracks. She didn’t even use the right kind of thread. Something like that would normally be called a ‘fashion disaster’ but for some reason Rarity didn’t seem to mind very much. It is after all her sister’s work, her vision of how the historical dress would look. Does she have any real right to object?

A gust of wind lurched through the open window and began to toss aside anything that wasn’t tied down. Papers were blown to the ground. Rarity shut the closet door and rushed to the window, slamming it back with a full hoof. She puffed and threw back a few straggler hairs as she used her magic to pick up all those things off the floor before those two returned.

Scene 3

When she was born, Rarity had been the first foal of her mother, Cookie Crumbles. Ever since then, she had seldom ever came in anything but second if not last save for anything having to do with rank that she earned. She narrowly avoided being passive if one sees it as having been first instead of second. And ironically, it was the day her generosity was birthed. It was as if fate had intervened so that Rarity would be first that one time when it truly mattered. The Rarity her friends know and loves adores being “fashionably late”, the one that is always strolling into parties last or coming so close to missing a fashion show deadline by mere minutes. They wouldn’t be able to picture her without her late night crumpled hair and strained eyes laser focused through her glasses, having had taken on a task barely achievable. Could she had lived that same life is she was passive? Passivity isn’t even a part of her vocabulary. What words would have replaced it if she had to look up to Sweetie Belle all those years? Rarity wouldn’t be able to fathom it; not because she thinks of herself as higher than her sister but because nopony can really grasp how their lives and personalities could be scrambled so completely and by the switching of a single order in life.

Rarity can see her future now and dream about it in the wee hours of the morning when she slept. The future was that play, and being alongside her good friend. She even daydreamed while she sewed. That morning, she had finished sewing two long pieces of cotton fabric together on her machine. It was for one of the main characters of the play, the unicorn princess’s assistant. It was ready to be fit into the designs she painstakingly drafted. Being nearly done with yet another costume refreshed her feeling of vigor. But then she reached for the pin cushion that was in the shape of a heart and bumped up against the hoof of Coco Pommel. They had been reaching for the same thing. As often as that happened, they never saw it coming. They were so absorbed in their own work. It took Rarity half a day just to finish the princess’s cape. The velvet and fur just refused to cooperate. Once she attached the collar to the princess’s assistant’s cloak, her second costume will be finished. She let Coco grab a few pins and as she returned to her work area, Rarity turned her head, keeping her in her line of sight. Her gaze switched to her mannequin, which was covered in one of the Pegasus armored uniforms. Rarity went to her hooves and moved closer to examine it a bit.

Coco had her muzzle practically pressed against the steel plates until Rarity was near. She then tilted her head up. The pins were in her mouth like a piece of straw. “Uh, yes?” she said through her teeth.

“Oh, nothing. I’m…just checking to see how things are going” Rarity replied. She wasn’t lying. But she also hated being seen as a busybody. She’s put her faith in Coco that she will help make the deadline with every last costume ready. There was a lot of resistance though, and it wasn’t making her job any easier. It took her twice as long to finish that silly cape just to make it gaudy enough to match what the real princess would have worn. No wonder that many past costume makers worked with whole teams. And even though Rarity knows she can accomplish this, it never feels like the two of them are on the same page. Coco was just an assistant when she met her but now, she claims to know so much. Design for the theatre and now she’s an expert. But that’s not how things are. She’s cutting corners that aren’t meant to be cut.

Rarity meandered over to another workbench where a Pegasus helmet rested. It had a row of hair bristling along the top like a porcupine’s spines. The stainless steel and silver reflected her image. She really knew how to make a fine craft but as good as the helmet was, she was able to spy a few slights that had to be corrected. She noticed as soon as she saw the helmet that it lacked a distinguishing emblem of the Pegasus tribe. It wasn’t even polished to her standards. She turned and looked at Coco. She was pinning a piece of embroidery to the front of the armor suit to be affixed later.

Rarity could feel an almost psychic energy in the room. It came to her the more she thought about Coco’s work. When they were apart, it hummed in the background; but now, it seemed to spark as if their very minds could clash like two rocks beaten together. She could easily admit to having had that experience before. Sweetie Belle and she often had the worst of fights whenever her parents had her come over to visit. It always had to do with work. Even when things were spelt out clearly, Rarity struggled to empathize. Her outbursts would come from nowhere and the fights themselves were over as quickly as they had begun. Arguments and heated words could be thrown to be burst in the air like fireworks. But the residue was often the long anxiety and regret that followed. That was the worst and it lasted the longest, following her even into her dreams.

She didn’t feel that a fight was on its way but Rarity still felt tense. She was feeling some kind of anxiety that didn’t even originate with her. She only began to notice it when they started working that morning. Rarity pondered all the things that might be dissatisfying Coco. She considered the weather or the fact that she was so far from home but none of it was getting her anywhere. Still, she pressed on and at the same time, Coco continued on the armor costume. As she was preparing to thread a long cord of leather into the metal rings to pull together the upper and lower plates of armor, she began to whistle a low tune. It was so low that it still lingered in the air after she stopped like a fly buzzing about her ears. Rarity couldn’t concentrate or even think. With the clacking of her sewing machine, being bothered with the sound is as silly as fussing over an ice cube being thrown into a hot bath. She stood, gritted her teeth and inched her way to Coco; she was totally unsure what to say but this is one annoyance too many. It had to end right now.

In the two days they have worked together, Coco must have felt the very pulse of the air between herself and Rarity. Fuzz, fabric residue and glitter were whipped into a frenzy. The air was almost stifling and the room seemed so small like it was never meant to hold more than two ponies working at the same time. Rarity had come over to mention something about her work so often that it became routine, almost something that fades into the background. But it was getting worse and a confrontation wasn’t far off. Rarity had tried to avoid it all this time or even try to pretend it wasn’t there and let it drown in the sea of sound. Worse yet, she barely had any idea as to what Coco was thinking. It wasn’t like the problems she had with her sister. After a fight, they would talk together and that was as easy as sitting and giving a smile, one that invited the foal to open herself up. The two were sisters. They knew each other. Coco was a different matter altogether. It could be so frustrating that they were so directly similar like sisters from different cities, being so close in age and having many of the same passions in life. Maybe that wasn’t enough.

“Coco, dear. Can you listen to me for a moment?” Rarity asked, interrupting her work. The mare ceased what she was doing and started to breathe deeply, taking the time to relax. “Thank you. I had been wondering whether you can stop making those sounds. You know, the whistling. I’m not saying they’re bad but it does interfere in my concentration to some degree”.

Coco put her things down. “But I always whistle or hum once in a while when I work. What’s wrong with it”? The mare always came across as so fragile but no matter how sympathetic Rarity might feel towards Coco’s voice, she could not bear to back down now. She had to stay firm on this one or she was going to go insane.

“I’m sorry but I can’t concentrate” Rarity reiterated. “I must demand that you stop…please”.

“Yes, it’s always a demand with you!” she snapped back. “Well, Suri…I mean, Rarity, maybe you would be better off if you loosened your grip on things”?!

Rarity almost tripped backwards, her mouth agape. Coco, seemingly realizing what she had done in a moment of anger, decided to shut up. Her face was flushed with red and she bit her lower lip. Did she dare to compare her to Suri Polomare, her former boss? What nerve! Rarity couldn’t believe what she was being told. No amount of difficult work could excuse that. She was nothing like Suri. She knew that mare was contemptible and she barely knew her.

Neither of them spoke and before Rarity could even consider being the one to end the silence, Sweetie Belle entered the room in a sense of triumph. She stood tall and grinned.

“Hey, I finished the peasants’ costumes! You two should come and see!” she yelled.

Rarity swallowed and tried not to cry but Coco received the news with a warm smile.

“I would love to” she replied. Rarity saw that her front teeth were stained with blood.

Rarity stayed silent as those two headed out to see the costumes for the extras. They weren’t on her mind since even Sweetie could come up with a convincing set of rags for them to wear. It might even lend some authenticity to it. She sighed and walked to the near completed suit of armor. On the other side, she spotted the design she made. It was partially crumpled. She assumed from handling it all day. When she picked it up, her eyes widened as she scanned all the markings in red upon it. It slashed across the paper and circled things she had written. They were corrections and they were all written in Coco’s script.

Scene 4

That night, the three of them had a late dinner. It was 8:30 and a sliver of moon cast its light over the fields around the house. The trees were silhouettes of dark blue. Inside the bright kitchen, Rarity could see nothing at all outside the window. She sat next to Sweetie Belle at the kitchen table. She hardly labored over dinner, resulting in them being served a raw salad of mushrooms that were like rubber, mushy tomatoes and very dark and wet spinach. She didn’t even care about the lack of taste. The sound of her friend yelling occupied her mind. She could still hear it; it rang in her head like an alarm. She had no idea why she even cared so badly. It wasn’t as if frustration wasn’t a part of their jobs and their lives. It explained so little though. Why are Coco’s words so liable to be sharp as of late like a knife somepony keeps in their back pocket for protection? Rarity had not known her for long but it wasn’t the pony she thought she knew back in Manehattan. Maybe that’s why she cared. It’s possible that she needs help. If only she knew how to go about talking to her without possibly embarrassing her. She would have to do it when they’re alone.

“Um, Rarity, can you hear me?” Sweetie Belle asked. An unplanned squeak broke her concentration like a snap reviving a pony from a trance. She was waving her hooves in her line of sight.

“Oh…I’m sorry Sweetie Belle” Rarity said, recovering. Her cheeks felt hot and there was a pinch of pressure against her temples. “What were you saying”? As she spoke, Coco sipped some more of her red wine. It was the same color as the furious looking notes she scribbled on the drafting paper.

“I just wanted to know if I made enough peasant costumes or should I do a few more tomorrow”?

Rarity honestly didn’t care much about peasant clothes at that moment. “Um, as long as there are enough for the number of foals, I think it would be more than sufficient”.

“She made good use of the burlap. Made patches out of cotton and sewn them on by hoof” Coco pointed out. She dipped her fork into the salad and scooped some into her mouth to eat. The sound of a fork scraping against her fine plate was the only sound she made. Rarity herself barely made a sound when she ate. Her stomach already felt full.

Sweetie soaked up the praise like most foals do. “Thanks! What about you, sis”?

“They were great….very peasant-ey”. Was that the best she could come up with? She wanted to bang her head against the table.

After Sweetie went to take a bath before bed, Rarity volunteered to wash everypony’s plate. She wanted to get her mind off the costumes and Coco, at least for fifteen minutes while she scrubbed spinach residue away. Bubbles and the smell of lavender cleaning solution could always help to fade some of her stress.

With everything cleaned up, she went upstairs and settled down for the night, smelling peaches on the vapor still present in the restroom. Rarity went in her room and put on her eye mask she always has on when she falls asleep. The curtains are already shut and she uses her magic to turn off the lights. Alone, she yawns, drawing in a deep breath. Her hooves rub all over the silk sheets. There is nothing better than beauty sleep to refresh one’s creativity.

During the night, Rarity’s eyes opened. Her body was curled up and her tail looped around her legs with the tip touching her nose. The duvet was pulled in, wrapping her close. Her nose sucked in air and it was freezing. She snorted and it made her cough then shudder. She ripped the eye mask off and lit her horn, casting a blue glow in the room. Despite the cold, her head was burning up and the light was a needle injecting pain into her head through her eyes.

She got up and made her way to the door in her sleep deprived languor. The cat, which has been awake and irritated in her freezing bed for hours, assaulted her legs with a swipe of her paws. Rarity’s head jerked in her direction and saw the two greenish mirrors staring back, accompanied by a low growl, a demand for an apology.

“I’m so sorry Opal” Rarity whispered in a panic. “I don’t know why the house is so cold tonight. I’ll check the heat stoves right away”. She left her pampered cat behind and scuttled downstairs, keeping her robe held close to her. She couldn’t bear the thought that her wood stove had somehow failed her in the course of the night. It was utterly unthinkable. But even if it did, she had no idea how it would be possible to keep to her schedule when she’s running about town for somepony to rush over and fix it in the morning. Even the descent downwards made her feel a bit nauseous. The cold was getting to her and fast.

She expected it to get even colder the closer she got to the laundry room as if she was entering a cave but there was a faint heat even as far as the parlor. She saw flickering light under the laundry room door. It couldn’t be candles causing it. She opened it and the warmth pressed against her fur. She entered and let her horn’s light die off. The wood stove on the opposite wall from the empty laundry baskets and washtub was still full of burning logs. But its iron door was open and the yellowish light glinted off the washboard. She didn’t understand what was happening and stared at it as if it was emitting bubbles instead of the occasional ember. Then she looked up where the pipe led to a vent that fed the heated air around the boutique. She noticed that the vent had been shut, sealing off the heat to this room alone.

She heard something move behind her. She turned and saw a figure stir in a shadowed corner of the room. It made her want to jump out of her skin but her hooves were cemented to the floor even as the pony approached. In the light, she saw Coco’s distinct cyan hair sans her flower brooch.

Rarity sighed in relief. “Oh, Coco. It was just you”. She honestly didn’t know what it could have been. She has heard of burglars before but only from reading Manehattan or Canterlot newspapers; never in her hometown where ponies had houses with thatched roofs made of straw and walked on streets lit by fireflies. Regardless, her heart took a moment to stop pounding as Coco approached. She was carrying a flat tray in her front right hoof.

“Well, who else would it be”? She walked closer. “It’s a wonderful night, isn’t it”? On the tray were two teacups and a small teapot on a platter. “Would you like a drink now that you’re up”?

Rarity hesitated to pour herself a cup. “Um, sure. But what is it”?

Coco seemed amused. “It’s just some black tea. I brought it from Manehattan. It’s kind of an inside joke with us city ponies because it reminds us of the oily waters from our industry”.

“Thanks”. Rarity poured herself a cup, careful not to spill. It was as black as ink and it swished around as she put her lips to it. She was worried that it would stain her fur if a drop escaped her mouth and slid down her muzzle. She forced herself to swallow it. Only its heat kept the liquid in. Maybe it wasn’t supposed to be pleasant if the ponies that drank it compared it to something that mars the world like oil does. She despised that connotation and she wondered what they were thinking. She remembered riding out on the sea and the light breaking over waves the color of sapphires. But maybe that’s how first impressions always work. She didn’t get to see the oil splashed against the rocks. When she returned home, it was with souvenirs, not bad memories.

“What are you even doing down here?” Rarity inquired. She put the cup down, hoping never to have to taste that tea again.

“I was awake as I always am at this hour. But I got thirsty. I thought something that reminded me of home would do”. She took a sip and closed her eyes. Rarity heard something tinkle and when she lowered the cup, she saw that it had ice floating at the top, a yellow flame on top of oil.

“Coco, I came to check on the stove. I guess the vent somehow closed. Anyway, how can you stand the cold”?

Coco put the tray on the countertop. “Being surrounded by frigid things gives us extra thick skin or so I’m told. I’ve gotten used to it. One has to eventually”.

“I don’t believe that. I choose to have heat in my house”. She used her magic to undo the seal on the vent.
“Look, Coco. I don’t want you to mess with the stove anymore. You’re welcome to walk outside if you feel my house is too warm”. Rarity faced her, her confidence high.

Rarity didn’t see any flash of offense in Coco’s face. In fact it didn’t seem to faze her at all. Rarity really hoped that she could have gotten a hint of what her friend was feeling, maybe a peek into what was troubling her. So far, nothing has presented itself. Nothing but a shallow nod anyway.

“I definitely understand” she said. Her eyes were unusually narrow considering the low light in the room. “I see that you can’t really live without heat. I feel for you and can’t possibly blame you. So it might be prudent enough that…maybe as long as my designs are uninhibited then I’ll be too focused to care about your heat”. She poured another cup of icy tea. “Would you like another”? She gestured to the teapot. Rarity’s hooves shook. There was no way she could.

“Um, no thanks Coco”. Rarity said goodnight, breaking eye contact as she withdrew and hurried back upstairs. She was too cold and her breath puffed out white against the light. She wanted to cry but her heart was battling the cold. And Coco? She probably wasn’t about to cry either. Maybe she never did in her freezing corner, drinking iced tea and demanding that things be done her way. Was the pony she met just some kind of fantasy of a tourist that didn’t know better? The first impression of a mare subdued by her boss with a heart of ice? Does Manehattan do that to ponies? Freeze their emotions until nothing is left but raw ambition? All this was confusing her. She needed to look at something real.

In her room, the heated air returned through the floor vent. She turned on the light. The designs were still draped over the suit of armor, her work marked in red. She went to her closet and opened it. There was so much stuff she didn’t need in there: bags of scrap she put aside and forgot about, a dozen bottles of glue that were supposedly unique, and something in the very back. She had meant to put it in a glass box to set it out on her desk. But it slipped her mind. It was a gold colored trophy she won in Manehattan. She brushed off a layer of dust. It was Coco that gave it to her, back when she learned about generosity. She wanted to see that same smile again. If she could, it would mean the world to her.

Scene 5

Rarity dreamt of a filly dragged by her horn. A reversal of master and servant. An event long ago. She doesn’t dwell on it anymore but Sweetie Belle remembers the tale well enough. Poor Rarity had gone for kilometers, not knowing where she would end up. Then as she relinquished all care to the winds, there that lay before her was a hulking boulder. Secretly, it was a hidden vein of gems. But its true wealth was beyond the imagination of a filly. Every last one of those gems she found disappeared. Used in costumes. Borrowed by her mother. Sold and bartered over the years. Except for three, the ones that marked her. Being a fashionista isn’t always fluff and splendor. Some days, ponies never bothered to pay her much attention. Other times, she asked herself why she trudged on. Few choose a profession that some ponies look down on as pointless. Even fewer still stick with it, never faltering when the days grew long and cold and the fabric frayed. Rarity always had her family cheering her on but it was her own mark, the three gems, which were a reminder of her true self. Gems aren’t found on the surface like other beautiful things. It’s one of the few things that needs the ugly. The sweat falling on ancient rocks about to be crushed for one. That memory always stuck around.

Rarity was sunken deep into dreamland when Opal the cat, awake at dawn’s first light, leapt on the nightstand to get a look at her owner. An errant paw knocked over a brass clock, one bought at an antique shop. The glass over its face shattered and her body seized up from a combined fright and alertness. She took off the mask and sat up, looking over her bed in a daze. She realized what happened to her clock and smacked Opal with her pillow, and called her a vile thing. The cat hid under the bed, her only sanctuary. Rarity used her magic to collect the glass shards and the broken body of the clock itself and set it all on the nightstand. It had to be fixed. There was no helping it now.

The sun had barely risen but Rarity wasn’t going back to bed at any rate. She got up and smoothed out the bed sheet and duvet. She looked outside and saw a heavy fog dulling the sunrise at the horizon. She contemplated going downstairs and getting a quick cup of coffee but abstained. She was up early for once and she wanted to take advantage of it. Those designs that Coco marked up was still a dark cloud inside her own inspiration room. Trying to ignore it wasn’t working. The weight of its presence was only felt more. There was only one conclusion. It had to be dealt with. She went over to the armor and held up the designs that were once clean and hers. The armor had a more modern look now, streamlined for an age it wasn’t built for. The costume would catch the eye like a peacock’s feathers. If it could speak, it would not lull with soft words but shout and hope that whoever hears it would want more.

Rarity’s magic worked non-stop. Her pliers and hammer pounded and reshaped. It’s not as easy as ponies think. Metalwork can demand as much precision as sewing and it’s a lot harder to correct a mistake in something so unforgiving. It was definitely not her specialty either. As the minutes ticked away, she heard her clock chime. It was 8:00AM. She was busy giving the armor a wholly new finish when she heard somepony, likely Sweetie, go into the washroom. She stepped back and examined it visually. It was finished at last.

The morning was still young and Rarity already felt drained. Her muscles refused to loosen up regardless of how often she tried to stretch them. It was so typical though; she suffered through creativity like all the rest. Ever since she got those three gems on her flank, she’s never turned down the chance to sweat and strain herself, even on account of others. She’s given dresses away for free. When Rainbow Dash needed help learning about the Wonderbolts, she was there to teach her in the way she knew how. Nothing was given to her. She had to earn it. Raw determination in her life is almost as important as skill itself for carrying her to dizzying heights of empire. She rose so high that she can look around her. Her friends are with her as always. Twilight swims in the clouds. Ahead, the road is so gentle like a scenic bend near a green creek. Behind, her sister climbs to someday meet her. As treacherous as the road can be, a helping hoof can make all the difference. The secrets of life can be exposed but it also loses all of its power. Something like that isn’t always a good thing. If the pony just isn’t ready. It’s the hardest part of being generous. Knowing when to hold back. Maybe Rainbow Dash was meant to fail her test. Maybe Coco was meant to stay with Suri another year. Even if she could, Rarity wouldn’t dare hope to be able to see the future. She’s gone through that kind of power before and she’ll never go back.

Rarity entered the washroom and twisted the steel spigot, letting a waterfall of heat flow into the bath. She looked in the mirror, checking the damage done to her mane. When it was full, her body slipped inside, contouring to the curves of the tub. The waterline reached her muzzle. The steam that carried the scent of eucalyptus dozed her off before she knew it. Coco was missing out. She was probably eating cold cereal and slept with a thin sheet in the guest cot. Rarity let that thought escape her. That mare had no right to interrupt the unrivaled serenity of a bath.

An hour later, she had awoken; it wasn’t from an alarm clock nor her sister knocking on the door. It was internal, an intuition of sorts. Coco and she both have it and it forced her eyes open. The water was tepid and the scent was faint as if her nose was swollen. She got out of the bath and dried herself at once. She pulled the plug at the bottom of the tub and left the room as soon as she could. Something was amiss. She could feel it.

Water still dripped from her mane as she trotted to her door and pushed it open. Her entrance had no effect on Coco Pommel, which sat motionless in the middle of the room. The mare’s eyes were affixed to the armor. Her face looked closer to white. Her mouth was shut but her eyes were utterly lost. That’s how Rarity would have described them. Lost in time, space and emotion. She’s been lost before in all those ways but never at once. It was one thing to contemplate the ways she could confront Coco. She would stand tall, a wall determined to do things her way. Because they were hers and they were right. But it was totally different to see her like this. All the strength in her heart and legs threatened to fold on her. Both felt like they were made of crumbling cement. She had no idea what she would do if her friend yelled this time.

Then, Coco turned her head as if she just now noticed the other pony in the room. Before, it was just her and the armor, the one that became something completely unrecognizable overnight.

“Rarity, you truly are the best in the world” she said scornfully. “You managed to remove all semblance of a decent pony from the façade that is your image. Well, enjoy your armor. All of it is yours to keep just like you wanted”.

Coco stood and left. She didn’t say goodbye or give eye contact to Rarity. In less than a minute, she was gone. And there was nothing she could do about it. How could she explain that all her actions were done to help her and nothing more? Then again, it was probably not even true. Anypony could see that Coco wanted her name out there. She was the last pony to blame in all of this. Now it was she that stared at the armor. To her it was lovely but what does it matter now? A tear slid down her cheek, a streak of warmth.

Back downstairs, Rarity saw Coco’s white sweater on her coatrack. It was something she would probably send for later. She wanted to take a long break from working. Maybe even a whole day. She didn’t care about the deadline anymore. It wasn’t as if she alone could fulfill it. She went and made herself tea. She didn’t feel like coffee. There was no point in getting anything strong. She sighed as she stirred the lemon wedge.

Sweetie Belle came down, bouncing two steps at a time to the parlor. She entered the kitchen, smiling and rather cheery.

“Rarity, I would like Coco’s input on a new design I thought up. Is she upstairs”?

“No, she is not”. She wasn’t in the mood to give anything but the barest of answers. But of course not granting her an answer led to a torrent of questions.

“What do you mean, Rarity? Did she leave? Is everything alright”? She looked confused and scared at the same time.

“She left, Sweetie Belle. I’m sorry”. She stared at the tea. Looking into Sweetie’s eyes would be like confronting her about what happened and she wasn’t ready. At least not yet. She thought that Sweetie would go upstairs and sulk. Even criticism didn’t sound so bad. A failure like her deserved it. Her sister deserved better than to follow the same path. Letting somepony down isn’t something she would wish on anypony. She wasn’t a teacher or even a friend. Not anymore.

“I’m going after her. Don’t wait up”. Sweetie grabbed her snow boots and scarf before flying out the front door. Rarity didn’t respond. She sat on the floor, with her back pressed against the cupboard doors. Her head listed and she closed her eyes.

Scene 6

Rarity’s eyes cracked open. She had to tug as if the rims of her eyelids were made of ice. Makeup into black ice. She crawled at first then stood on her hooves. She looked outside. The clouds were so thick that it looked like smoke. The light added a blue haze to everything and her breath could easily be seen against it. She knew the fire was dead. Her tea had frozen over and the steam had turned into a layer of ice that coated the top shelf and the countertop below, gleaming like glass. She stumbled into the parlor. The whole place was otherworldly like she had gone to sleep for a thousand years and the whole world had forgotten warmth and love.

She remembered that Sweetie was gone. She rushed to the window and rubbed the condensation off to look outside. The filly was nowhere to be seen. How could she do that to her? Run off in such weather? Her frustration waned as she saw the ferocity of the winds. Even the trees bent from its immense power. She had never seen such an extreme winter since she went to the Crystal Empire. And her sister was out there, doing something foolish as usual. She should have done something to stop her instead of wallowing in her selfish pity.

There was no time for that now. She bucked the door and it groaned. Two more and it snapped off its hinges. She jumped out into the dense snow. A wave of icy wind flowed against the ground, slapping her hard. In the first five seconds, she barely dodged her own mailbox which was uprooted and flung across the yard.

She focused and concentrated her magic into her horn. She smelled something unique and refined. The gem her sister wore around her neck. Her special talent can find gems anywhere but not just through sight but smell too. Like Applejack can tell her what kind of apple she is holding behind her back, Rarity can track gems even at a distance. She can tell exactly where her sister went even without the aid of tracks.

She threw herself into the thick of the storm. She could barely see beyond the first hill but she didn’t need to. It all looked the same now. The roads were gone with nothing but fence posts sticking over the growing field of snow. She panted and it seemed even that release of heat was enough to melt some of the ice that clung to her fur. She could tell that the smell was taking her away from the road. Coco must have gotten lost. Caught in the sudden blizzard. It means they could be anywhere. She threw a grim glance at the distant forest. The trees seemed to wave like reeds. She hoped that Coco would be smart enough not to venture in there. Doing so would do little more than to teach her that the cold isn’t the only thing that can bite.

It wasn’t too late to turn back. She’s sure that Twilight would find some wisdom in it. After all, it was nearly impossible to see and all she had going for her was a faint scent leading her into places unknown. But she also knew that there was little place for wisdom in what she was doing. It was about two things: her family and if she’s lucky enough, the friendship she hopes still exists.

She gallops to the end of a long field. She slid down a bank and dropped onto a road. It curved around a hill and she came to a secluded bridge with a darkened canopy above it, an awning of bare wood. Between the streaks of light, two ponies leaned against the railing and peered into the frozen stream below.

Rarity walked slowly, letting her rhythm of her heart return to normal. Coco and Sweetie weren’t talking. They looked like they were counting the flakes of snow which drifted on the ice below. A part of the railing was devoid of it. It looked to have been swept aside. As Rarity walked around to the bridge, she saw a hole in the ice.

Her sister watched her walk close. “Rarity? What are you doing here?” she asked.

“I was just worried about you….both of you”.

“You didn’t have to come here. I had this handled on my own” Sweetie replied, a flair of her independence making itself heard. “She’s safe with me. You know that”.

Rarity had been in such a rush that she barely knew what to say. Was Sweetie right? If her generosity was truly a burden then she needed to hear it for herself. She needed to know if part of her entire life had been a lie. What other possibility could there be?

“I didn’t have to come but I needed to, Sweetie”.

“What do you mean”?

Rarity made sure that her words could be heard clearly even though it wouldn’t be hard with the trees and canopy naturally slowing the wind. She wanted them to reach Coco even if she pretended not to listen.

“Because being by a friend’s side is more important than anything else. Didn’t you learn anything in Manehattan? Maybe it was different than what I took with me. Maybe you just forgot it. I was like that once because it’s easy to overlook it when we’re alone. I won’t deny it now. If it wasn’t for my friendships, I wouldn’t be the mare I am now, standing in the middle of a snowstorm”.

“You’re right. I did forget” Coco said. Her face looked conflicted as if two sides of her had been pulling her in two different directions. “After you helped me get that job with the theatre, I was at the highest point in my entire life. Suddenly ponies that wouldn’t have wanted anything to do with me before were giving me the kind of attention I never had. Everypony wanted to be my friend and I guess I just forgot the value of it. I slipped into a familiar pattern, only much worse than before. I desired more than I could even handle. Honestly, I thought I could do the same here. That’s why I really came”.

Rarity frowned. “And I was just trying to help, maybe teach you what I knew”.

“I know now. Your sister found me here. We talked for a while”. When she looked at the filly, it was as if the Manehattan mare changed somehow. The cold of Ponyville, instead of insulating her from friendships and empathy, had brought out the purity that was just kept frozen inside. Sweetie blushed but flashed a brilliant smile.

“You can’t deny yourself, Rarity” Coco continued. “You’re not just a friend. You’re a teacher too. It’s the generous nature that shines within you. Never give that up”.

Rarity flicked a tear from her eye before it would fall and freeze on her cheek. “Thank you, Sweetie Belle”. She put a hoof around the filly, holding her close.

“I’m sorry for what happened” Coco said. “You’re not Suri and neither am I. There’s no reason why we can’t be close. Don’t you still have much to teach me”?

“Well yes, but only on one condition” Rarity declared. “Our friendship must always come first”.

Coco grinned and sat next to her. “I am certain of this more than ever”. The three of them shared one huge hug and they talked and laughed for an hour until the wind died down and they walked through the snow back home. It was the best trek through an icy field that Rarity has ever had.

Sometimes when two ponies, even if they’re friends, try to work together, they might not see eye to eye even when it seems they’ll be a perfect fit. It doesn’t always work out in the end. Some friendships don’t even survive when two ponies start to see each other as rivals. I’ll never let that happen between me and my friends. I’ll always be willing to give as well as take. Because that’s who I am.

“Rarity! C’mon”!

Rarity turned around and saw Coco wave her over as she pushed a row of costumes into the building where the Hearth’s Warming Eve play was to be held that evening. Sweetie was telling the workers where to take the armor. They had done it with no time to spare. It was just like she imagined it would be. She put a new marker into the friendship diary and hurried backstage where her friend was waiting.

THE END