Rarity, Thespian Extraordinaire

by Tarot Card

Rating: teen
Tags: Rarity, Other, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Alternate Universe, Human, Main 6
Length: 11417

Rarity struggles to bid farewell to the friends she made over the years, who have no idea that her twenty-second birthday is also her last day in this life. Then again, they have no idea she used to be human, either.

Rarity is well known for her melodramatics, but it turns out she's been performing a part longer than any of her pony friends ever imagined. See how this human-turned-filly became the mare she is today. Watch as she takes her final bows on the closing night of her role as unicorn seamstress.

Tagged AU just to be safe.

Published 2014-12-31 00:30:03 UTC
Last updated 2014-12-31 00:30:03 UTC

Act I

It was a morning much like most in Ponvyille, only notable because it was a certain Rarity's twenty-second birthday (or her forty-fourth, if one were to include her other life, but she was never one for technicalities, especially ones which called her youth into question). For the most part this birthday was expected to play out with the usual props and scenery: Sugarcube Corner, with cake and streamers, courtesy of Pinkie Pie.

However, Rarity woke up on this particular birthday with the grim certainty that this would be her last day on this world (or was Equestria a continent? In all her years, she had never bothered to find out).

For you see, the first time Rarity had celebrated her twenty-second birthday, she had woken the next morning as a pony.

Perhaps this requires some explanation. Most ponies, when they wake up to Celestia's sun wake with the expectation that they will be ponies, as they were the day before and all the preceding days of their lives.

Humans (as Rarity once was) do not share this expectation. For this reason she was understandably bewildered when she awoke the day after her twenty-second birthday party (after a night of heavy drinking) as a young unicorn filly.

Rarity, as most humans are wont to do in nearly similar situations, sought assistance in finding her way out of her current predicament. The first pony she found, and calmly explained the situation to dismissed Rarity as certifiably insane, as did the next pony. It was at this point Rarity felt somewhat discouraged in regard to her current situation, as well as her prospects of returning to her previous life of just a few hours before.

For the next ponies with whom she conversed, Rarity decided to omit certain details of her predicament, and this time she was only greeted with incredulous looks, a significant improvement from cries for a strait-jacket.

From these interactions she parsed many things, namely she was in a world of Technicolor talking ponies, and she was one of them. Also she could declare with a degree of confidence that none of said ponies were able to restore her to her original form, and none of them were able to give her directions back to East Village.

“You mean Ponyville?” one of the stallions conjectured. “Follow that road until it forks off in four directions, and go down the path between the oak tree and the aspen tree.” Rarity had little experience in horticulture; consequently, the stallion's directions were of little use to her, seeing as all of his directions seemed largely dependent on identifying various species of trees.

At this point, most humans in Rarity's shoes (horseshoes, rather) would have given up, and checked themselves into the nearest halfway house. Rarity was worth her mettle. For you see, she came from a certain line of work that she felt gave her a leg up. She was a thespian. Well, not an actress per se, but a costumer for an off-Broadway theatre, and a master of stagecraft all the same. She may not have auditioned for the role of unicorn filly, or even wanted it, but it was the only role available, and damn it all, she was going to play the best unicorn filly this Ponyland had ever seen. Only later did she learn that it was Equestria, not Ponyland.

All the world's a stage, is it not?

Rarity stepped up her game. She went from door to door, no longer a character in search of an exit, but instead as a poor and lost orphaned little girl. Her first couple of attempts garnered verbal sympathy, lines read aloud with no accompanying gestures. She was not convincing enough to overcome suspicion. No matter. With each subsequent house visited, she further developed her character. She found the right inflections and gestures that won her the most “poor-thing”s and “oh-my-goodness”s, until her monologue was polished and pulling all of the heart strings it could. First she got a couple of coins, then directions to a youth shelter, then a meal. It started raining, much to Rarity's delight. The only thing more heartbreaking than an adorable orphaned girl is one that is soaked to the bone.

The last house she visited was occupied by a young unicorn couple who urged her dry off by their fireplace while they prepared her some hot cocoa. She gave her monologue learned in rote, but no less desperate or passionate. She left with a warm cloak and the invitation to come back any time she found herself in need or trouble.

She was very thankful for the cloak, not so much for the warmth, but for the simple reason of not walking about in the buff. These ponies had no nudity taboo, but she clung to the human reverence for cloth covering skin.

This was the same unicorn couple who eventually filled out the paper work to adopt Rarity. When the adoption agent asked for her age, she simply asked how old she looked. The agent guessed five, and Rarity nodded knowingly. She was recorded as being five years, seven months and three days of age. By her next birthday, she was fully part of the family. Within a year and a half, this family grew with the addition of Sweetie Belle.

And she made the most of an odd role, hadn't she? When she anticipated at the very most, a nasty hangover, she ended up with an abrupt curtain call and a summons to a theatre she had never seen the likes of. But she had built a character, and life for herself. At the very least she had excelled beyond that ham of a pony Trixie Lulamoon. She had family, a growing business, and friends. Oh dear. It was her friends. They had no idea what was to happen to her come tomorrow. Her last day on Earth was effortless. She had no idea what she would have to go through, and had never had a teary goodbye with her human friends. Troubled, she donned her slippers, and trotted down stairs to make herself some tea.

“Perhaps it was a one-time occurrence,” she said to no one in particular. “But then, what would have caused a change of worlds? Death? If that's so, then that means I must have died that night so many years ago!” She gasped at thought. She had never really considered the possibility.

“If I had died, then that would mean I'm in some sort of after-life. And there's no such thing as an after-after-life, so I must stay here.” It made sense, in a queer sort of way. She found this whole place to be a little too idyllic. She'd like to believe hers was a life cut tragically short just as it was truly beginning, her last whispered words heard by her friends. Yet still, Rarity had perfect recollection that she, along with Deidra, Marcus and Lynn walked safely back to her apartment, where she had made a point of pulling out a futon for them to share after the night's festivities. She had even brushed her teeth and drank a glass of water before going to bed. If she had died of alcohol poisoning she was certain she would have remembered.

She paused from her musings while she selected a tea to drink, ultimately settling on orange blossom that Fluttershy had brought her to sample not even two weeks prior. They were the only two who regularly drank the stuff, but Rarity had made it a personal quest to convert at least one more of her friends to connoisseur status, if only to have another join their Sunday tea times. Rarity had set her sights on Pinkie, and was well on the way to peaking the baker's interest, especially when she had explained the potential pairings of baked goods and tea.

She sighed. “I suppose I'll have to abandon any plans on getting Pinkie Pie to truly appreciate that jasmine oolong blend I gave her. A shame, really. But who will share tea and stories with Fluttershy if I am off heaven knows where for the rest of my life? Really, I have only a day more in this life.” She took a sip, allowing the fragrant steam to fill her nose.

As she was bringing the china over to the sink to wash, the sudden absurdity of cleaning china she would never use again. With a shrug, Rarity placed the pot and dishes into the sink. She was walking out of the kitchen to continue her brooding when she glanced back at the sink, and bit her lip. “My friends will be coming over this evening, what would they think of me if I simply left dishes sitting out?” After a brief internal debate, she found herself spending five minutes of her last day in Equestria scrubbing her tea set clean.

She forced herself to stop grumbling. “Well, it’s not a complete waste of time, Rarity,” she said to herself, rinsing the suds off of the saucer in her telekinetic grip. “This way, somepony else will be able to use the tea set when I'm gone.” Suddenly, she was struck by inspiration. She quickly toweled off the dishes, and placed them among the rest of her set behind the glass display case. She quickly drafted a note, explaining how it was her final wish that her dear friend Pinkie Pie receive her ceramic tea set, so that she might spend Sunday afternoons with Fluttershy learning the art of brewing. After affixing her signature, she inserted the note into a decorative envelope, and placed it on the counter. She was about to append a post script, telling Pinkie pie to take her collections of loose leaf teas, but thought better of it. Pinkie wasn't nearly experienced enough to understand the nuance and flavors of each of the teas. “Better to leave them to Fluttershy,” she said, and she drafted a second note, bequeath all teas bagged or otherwise to Fluttershy, upon her untimely disappearance.

Satisfied, she walked towards the door, intent on finding her friends, but was checked as she caught sight of her working station, a symphony of organized chaos. She picked up a scrap of golden silk. She had no orders to fill; she had seen to making sure she had no needlework. But what would become of all of the dresses, all of her designs that were never promised to any client of hers? What of her personal affects, her appliances? With a world weary groan, she uncapped a sharpie yet again, and made inventory of all that she owned.

It is a miserable thing to consign your worldly possessions on the eve of your final day, but Rarity was grateful for the opportunity to prepare parting gifts, a luxury she did not have the first time. At least, until she realized just how many possessions she had to give away. Two closets, a wardrobe, and three progressively less and less heartfelt letters later, she opted to write a single omnibus instructing that her adoptive parents and Sweetie Belle be given anything of significant or sentimental value, and Twilight divide any unclaimed items among her friends.

During this process, our dear thespian had unearthed a memento of her school days, a report card. It bore bright red A’s on every subject save social studies, where Mr. Loose Leaf had opted to scribble the words, “needs improvement”.

Rarity is a very bright girl, excelling academically but seems to stumble in understanding the workings of the world. She acts aloof and is uninterested in developing friendships with other students. I would like to have a meeting to discuss Rarity’s desire to be reclusive.

Rarity had loathed that meeting, though she thought Mr. Loose Leaf to be a respectable teacher. She wanted to desperately explain how hard it was to fit in as a struggling actress caught mid act without ever having seen the script, but she held her tongue, if only to maintain the illusion she was fighting so hard to preserve.

Of course, once Rarity joined the Ponvyille school system, was when the challenging part began. She had quite some difficulty fitting in at first. Her first years in Equestria act and actress were separate, and the actress was still bitter about the role she was forced to play. The sulky, sullen filly was quickly determined to be a certified “weirdo” by her peers, on count of her insistence on being clothed at all times, misspeaking and saying “hands” instead of “hooves”, or “everyone” instead of “everypony” (“Rarity-isms”, her parents used to affectionately call them).

On her very first day, she was asked to take notes. Not out of the element for a school-aged foal, and Rarity knew quite well the life and times of a student. But as she withdrew her notepad and pencil, she was at a loss of how to go about the business of writing. Without fingers, the task seemed insurmountable. She pinched the pencil between her hooves, and carefully, using her entire upper body, began to copy the first word on the board. She managed to get two shaky, over-sized letters onto the page when she realized the she was drawing looks from her classmates. Anyone who wasn’t staring at her or the board had a pencil between their teeth, scribbling away. The unicorns of the class held their pencils in a cloud of magic. She swallowed the knot in her throat, and tried to catch up with Mr. Loose Leaf, who was already on the third bullet point. The pencil had other plans; it escaped her grasp, and clattered onto the floor. This time Loose Leaf stopped writing to turn and look. The entire class followed his gaze. Rarity stared down at the floor where her pencil had fallen, if only to avoid their looks. A kick managed to nudge the pencil from under her seat. She scooped it up one-hoofed after a bit of flailing, much to the class’s amusement.

Red faced, Rarity gave another attempt of writing with her hooves, only for the pencil to fall from her fumbling grip. Chuckles rippled throughout the school house, causing the teacher to scowl. This time, she had the dignity to not even bothering to pick up the pencil, or even attempt to write. Somepony kindly hoofed her pencil back to her, but she only placed it back in her little bag of school supplies. She refused to take any notes for the rest of the day, even at the teacher’s urging.

The second day, come note time, she tried imitating the other foals by writing with the pencil clenched between her teeth. Her penmanship was for all intents and purposes illegible; the eraser was bumping against the roof of her mouth but she didn’t drop the pencil, and she was keeping pace with the notes on the chalkboard. She was almost proud of herself, at least until she saw Moon Dancer, the foal next to her, staring. Unlike Rarity, Moon Dancer’s horn was aglow with the same color as the aura wrapped around her lady bug patterned fountain pen. A nervous glance around the room confirmed that Rarity was the only unicorn not using telekinesis to write. Moon Dancer’s gaze alternated between Rarity’s and the pencil dangling from Rarity’s mouth.

Moon Dancer must have picked up on her new classmate’s consternation. During lunch break, Moon Dancer walked up to Rarity, asking if she was too stupid to know how to use her horn.

Dear Rarity was taken aback by Moon Dancer’s malice. Perhaps it was not malice that the question was born from, but the tactless candor that comes as second nature to the inquisitive and exceedingly youthful. But it was malice that Rarity felt, and malice directed at a newfound insecurity, so with malice Rarity responded. She looked coldly at her antagonist’s frizzy pink mane, and asked if Moon Dancer was too stupid to know how to use a hair brush.

It wasn’t Rarity’s best comeback, but to five year old ponies, it was a devastating tongue lashing. All three lunch tables went silent as Moon Dancer mumbled an excuse to her hooves, and that was the last anypony said on the matter.

Rarity won the battle of wits, but it made her no better. She was playing the role of unicorn filly, but was incapable of even holding a pencil like a unicorn.

That recess, Rarity ignored the other foals (as she had done for the first two days) and made a vow to the high heavens, that she, Rarity, thespian extraordinaire, come fire or flood would learn to hold a pencil in her telekinetic grasp. She was worth her mettle! She was an actress who was going become the star of this show! She wasn’t going to let herself be checked by something as measly as pencil holding.

During recess for the next two weeks, she hid in the wings of the schoolhouse to figure out this whole “telekinesis” nonsense. Eventually— and with considerable effort— she could make an indigo spark jump from her horn. This victory, however, came at a price to her social standing. In the eyes of her peers, she’d become the phantom of the school house. Thunder Lane and Cheerilee once or twice invited her to play hide and seek with the rest of the class. The first time, Rarity declined, wanting to keep her new lace saddle clean. The second time, they approached Rarity unawares, and saw her cross-eyed and shouting angrily at her forehead, “Dumb horn! Do magic!” They opted to back away quietly.

Rarity ignored the whispers, and continued her practice at home. Her father discovered her much in the same way as her classmates. Instead of balking, he ruffled her hair affectionately and asked if she wanted any pointers. Despite her initial protests of his tutelage —and her newly mussed up mane— his guidance was helpful, not only in instruction, but in soothing her frustration whenever she was stuck. “Just because its attached to your head doesn’t make it easy to use,” he reassured her. It was a long night, and her head was aching by the end of it, but she saw the pencil suspended in mid-air, supported by nothing but an aura of her own magic.

She squealed with delight, and hugged her father. “Dad, I did it!”

He planted a kiss on her cheek. She didn’t care his moustache felt bristly and itchy, and hugged him harder.

The next few days, she refined her technique, learning to hold the pencil, moving the pencil, twirling the pencil. The day after that, she put pencil to paper, and over the course of the week, she watched her indecipherable writing tighten into elegant flowing script. She was finally taking notes in class, with a huge, dopey grin on her face. Rarity knew she was good as any unicorn.

Mr. Loose Leaf’s report card said otherwise. All grades barring social studies were suitable. Though there was a red ink comment on the bottom of the form, noting “Rarity’s unwillingness to interact with others or participate in class.” Admittedly, it had shades of the truth. Her odd clothing habits, the incident with Moon Dancer, and her eschewal of social interaction in favor of verbally abusing her horn had gained her a reputation for being prickly and eccentric.

The resulting parent-teacher conference was so awkward, it inspired Rarity to revise her role among the other students. She made a half-hearted attempt at befriending some of her fellow classmates. But she was twenty-three years old at heart, and she always found children to be insufferable. Still she would humor them occasionally, and join in their recess games if only to keep up appearances. She would join in their games of tag on days where there was no risk of muddying her hooves. She was usually chosen as the seeker in hide and seek, because she adamantly refused to crawl underneath the bushes or play-scape.

She was less diligent in her study attempts; her class time was spent doodling dresses in her math notebook. One of her classmates caught her drawing a human figure. To avoid further suspicion, she started drawing dresses suited for an equine figure. Mr. Loose Leaf, on the other side of the room, mistook drawing for Rarity note taking, and was pleased to record that Rarity was excelling in class.

Within a month, it was as though Rarity had been among them from the first day of school; an eccentric, and occasionally disdainful classmate, but one that for the most part played and got along with the rest of them.

Of all the foals in the class, Rarity found Flitter to be the most tolerable. Yes, she was a child, and preoccupied by childish inclinations, but there was a certain wit she possessed that found its way into cheeky, off-hand comments said under her breath, only so loud that Rarity could hear. “Geez, it’s a water fountain, not your marefriend,” she would mutter, as the two of them stood in line, waiting for Thunder Lane to finish slurping away at the water fountain. The sudden bouts of irreverence were amusing to Rarity in their own right, but they reminded her of a former human friend she kept the company, by the name of Lynn. The difference was, Lynn’s wit only shone through when her eyes were bright with drink, so her commentary was thrice as bawdy as Flitter, and half as well enunciated. Flitter was an odd replacement, but a good friend in her own right.

In fact, it was Flitter who drew in Moon Dancer, and made their duo into a trio. Rarity was still bristling over her horn comment, but the bad blood between them was soothed by Moon Dancer’s pleasant nature, and weakness for gossip. They had been her faithful friends through their schooling, up to the present day. Even when their jobs took them away from one another, they always gathered Tuesdays and Saturdays for lunch. Well, usually anyways. The last time they all had shared a meal was… before the Summer Sun Celebration, two years ago. Had it been that long?

A pang of guilt struck Rarity. It’s not that she had forgotten about the two, it’s just that since she started keeping the company of Twilight and the rest of their friends, she’s hadn’t had much time for checking up on old friends. She was keeping a small business afloat, in addition to managing all the adventures and internal drama that came with a motley crew like Twilight and company.

Rarity tucked away the old report card. Donning a sun hat, she made her way across town to Sugarcube Corner, her entrance a full two hours later than expected. She expected impatient faces when she arrived, cake marred with dripping candle wax. “Terribly sorry ladies, I just got caught up in some last minute chores,” she offered apologetically the moment she walked through the door.

Instead, she walked onto the floor with all the scenery half-assembled. Blue streamer covered only half of one wall. Wrappers for all sorts of goods were strewn about the floor. Pinkie was in the kitchen, singing some song or recipe to herself as her stirring kicked a cloud of flour onto the counter. Twilight and Fluttershy were red face, inflating balloons with stylized with a triad of diamonds, after Rarity’s own cutie mark. But it was Rainbow Dash, who was pinning a banner up who first noticed her.

“Um, surprise?” Rainbow said with a weak grin. Pinkie gasped loudly, whisk dropping from her mouth.

Twilight looked up. “Rarity! Happy B—”

“HI RARITY HAPPY BIRTHDAY,” Pinkie shouted shrill and frantic. Halfway through her salutation she unleashed a cannon full of confetti that left everypony’s ears ringing.

“Sorry Rarity, sit tight for a minute. It’s taking us longer than expected to set up,” Rainbow Dash said, as soon as the worst of the tinnitus faded.

“We would have been ready sooner if somepony actually followed the agenda, we might have been a little timelier,” Twilight said, glaring at Rainbow.

“Hey, I found those streamers as fast as I could. That party store was ginormous!”

“You didn’t even find the right colors!”

“If you needed certain colors, why would you send the only color-blind pony you know?” Dash said, glowering.

“I gave you a written list! I even included the hex codes for the colors. You could have compared the names.”

This naturally evolved into bickering between the two, whilst Pinkie Pie alternated between egging them on and preparing the icing. Fluttershy quickly excused herself to go and find Applejack. The birthday mare could only groan.

Rarity trotted over to Pinkie, and cleaned up some of the cooking supplies while Pinkie finished frosting the cake. Pinkie was humming one of her silly songs to herself, as she always did when she was not singing or speaking. It suddenly occurred to Rarity that this was the last normal moment she would ever have with Pinkie Pie: the annoying but unbelievably peppy friend with whom she’d never get to have an honest-to-god tea time with. She bit her lip as she glanced at the clock. She would have to fetch her strainer and tea bags, but by the time she ran home and back, it would be well past four in the afternoon. Too late for a luncheon tea. “But would it be too early for an evening drink?” she wondered aloud.

“Filly, Please,” Pinkie said, wrapping a forearm around Rarity’s neck. “I’ve been at it since I’ve started baking!” She produced a hip flask with her balloon triad cutie mark etched onto the side. “Sounds like somepony could use a swig of party juice!”

“Erm, Party Juice?”

“Two parts pink lemonade vodka, two parts sangria, three parts grenadine. My own brew!” Pinkie said, grinning with friendship and mild intoxication. “I’ve got a whole ‘nother bottle of the stuff under the sink!”

Rarity was inclined to say no, just on principle of such an odd combination of spirits. But Pinkie was offering more than just a poorly concocted mixed drink. She was offering her caring and friendship in the most Pinkie Pie sort of way. A pang of sadness filled Rarity’s heart, and out of the love she bore for Pinkie, she accepted the saccharine swill and drank as deeply as her taste buds would allow.

Rarity watched Pinkie finish her work. Something inside her was stirred by the drink, something that made her start questioning her absurd fate, something that loosened her tongue slightly. So she found herself asking the pink mare, “Pinkie, you wouldn’t happen to know anything about extra dimensional travel, would you?”

“Can’t say I’m an expert, but I’ll answer anyways!”

Rarity breathed a sigh of relief. Any other pony might have raised an eyebrow at such an odd question. But Pinkie was Pinkie enough to not even bat an eyelid. “What might cause a person to inexplicably find themselves in an unfamiliar body, in an unfamiliar world?”

Pinkie rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe it’s that pony did something bad. Ooh, or maybe they were cursed by an evil enchantress! Or maybe they stumbled into a stargate, or accidentally opened a dimensional portal while trying to bake cupcakes!”

That took Rarity aback. The memory flashed before her eyes. There she was, a human once again, on that fateful birthday night. She was leaning against the bar, laughing hysterically at one of Rob’s jokes, unable to support herself in her throes of laughter and inebriation. She knocked over her drink, spilling it over the vaguely gothic bartender. In a more sober state, Rarity might have apologized, but back in those days, she was known for her vitriol. She let loose a tirade of rather unladylike language against him. The bar tender glowered at her, and began chanting something. “A curse I put upon thee for you to fear,” he warned in a dark, gravelly voice, casting some salt from the rim of a martini glass. “To walk in the skin of another, every twenty-two years…” At this point, Rarity had completely stopped paying attention, and was now back to snickering with Rob.

“Fascinating theory, Pinkie,” Rarity said absent-mindedly. She took another sip of party juice. So was she here as penance for one night of bad behavior that one night twenty-two years ago? If it wasn’t for that one insult, she wouldn’t be in this very moment, watching Rainbow Dash and Twilight argue over who was responsible for what checklist items.

Yet, as ridiculous as her friends were, Rarity had developed a certain fondness for them. A shame, really. She was just starting to enjoy all of their little escapades, taming dragons, and fighting changelings, all the what-have-you of having an alicorn princess, (and Pinkie Pie) among your circle of friends. She’d like to be back with her human friends in New York chatting over a nice glass of wine, but saving the kingdom was just as amusing of a diversion.

She attempted to reassure herself that she might end back up on Earth, and could see her human friends again, regardless Try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to wish that she had never cussed out that bartender.

“Are you planning on going somewhere extra dimensional?” the baker asked with a giggle. She retrieved the bottle of party juice, and poured each of them a glass.

It wasn’t tea, but somehow it was what Rarity needed. “You’re a good friend,” Rarity said.

Pinkie grinned, her eyes shining bright.

Two-thirds of a bottle later, The cake was frosted and the kitchen cleaned, Rainbow Dash and Twilight made amends, Fluttershy and Applejack reappeared with a surprisingly large quantity of liquor bottles and cider barrels, each marked with three cartoonish X’s and a disclaimer absolving the Apple family from any responsibility for the user’s drunken actions. Once the decorations were set up, they ushered the birthday filly outside so that she could start her birthday the proper way (it was a surprise party, after all).

Fluttershy led her into the kitchen. Rarity’s feigned surprise was well enough that all the ponies felt proud of their efforts. Rarity felt a little tipsy and resigned, but she hid it well enough for one last night with her friends.

After all this cake and celebration and time with her friends, she would be gone, whisked away, just as she was twenty-two years ago. She blew out the candles, and hugged each of them. She washed down the cake with some more party juice.

Applejack rolled a barrel onto the counter, and jammed a spout into its side. She had a mischievous look that Rarity wasn’t used to seeing. “Hey, Pinks, what do ya say about getting this party started the Apple family way?”

Pinkie bounced forward with a stack of solo cups, most of which made it into AJ’s grasp. “Yeparooni! Way ahead of you, Applesnack!”

It suddenly occurred to Rarity that beside herself and Pinkie, everyone else had started this party sober.

Act II

Cheerilee had a sleepover for all the fillies in the grade, but Rarity had actually spent more time with the adults who were drinking in the kitchen than the actual children. She was content to sit idly by and watch the game of truth or dare unfold to often anticlimactic conclusions; Cheerilee had the most imaginative dares, but never the conviction to actually exercise her rights as slumber party host and demand they follow through. Rarity suggested they play dress up, and they all took turns rummaging through costumes and fake plastic jewels. Soon the fillies grew tired and went on to have a pillow fight. Bored herself of the childish antics, Rarity wandered into the kitchen, and found herself among a bunch of her classmate’s mothers giggling over a bottle of wine. One of them noticed her, with a less than sober smile. She was purple earth pony with blue eyes. “Hello there, are you looking for some snacks… Sorry dear, but what’s your name?”

“Rarity, Mrs. Cheerilee,” she said. “I’m not looking for snacks, I’d just rather not have to deal with children for a moment.”

For some reason the mares found this amusing, and fell into a fit of giggles. “Fair enough,” she said, wiping a tear away from her face. “Call me Brenda, dear. ‘Mrs. Cheerilee’ makes me feel so old. Come, grab a seat.”

For once she was actually able to join a conversation about real gossip, talk of fashion, and business and scandalous affairs. She injected herself into the conversation, and Cheerilee’s mother Brenda was so amused that she even poured grape juice into a wine glass for Rarity.

“So you like playing dress up?” Brenda inquired during a lull in conversation.

“I suppose, I much rather be making the dresses, though.”

“Hey Flannel Fleece, maybe you could take this little Rarity on as an apprentice” Berry Punch said, nudging the older, silver-haired mare to her right. “You’re not getting any younger, you know, somepony needs to take over carousel boutique.”

“Oh hush,” Flannel Fleece nickered. “I’m a seamstress, not a spinster. Besides, the girl’s a blank flank. She could end up being a miner for all we know. You know how foolish it is to take somepony under your wing before they’ve got their ass tattoo in order.”

“Fleece,” Brenda gasped. “There are children present! Cheerilee and all her little friends are in the next room!”

“You know,” interjected the fourth mare, “Rarity’s quite mature for her age, she shouldn’t be a problem in your shop.”

“Well, I’m an old soul,” Rarity said.

“Doesn’t matter how old she is. Legally you need a cutie mark before your apprenticeship.”

The perceived insult on her cutie mark (or lack thereof) stung Rarity’s ego. “Well,” Rarity scoffed. “I wouldn’t want to work under you anyways. I’ll have my own dress shop, and I’ll call it ‘Rarity’s Rarities’.”

Brenda chuckled. “Oh ho ho, looks like Flannel has a competitor. I guess you won’t be getting an acting cutie mark.”

“Acting?” Rarity perked up.

“Well, I was going to invite you to audition for the musical I’m putting on for Loose Leaf, on account of how much you seem to like dress up.”

“Well, I could offer my services as a costumer, if need be.”

“Now there’s a thought. Fleece, she’s such a mature little girl, I’m sure she could give you a hoof without getting in your way, just for one project.”

That was how on the next weekend, Rarity found herself in Flannel Fleece’s workshop, getting the master tour. As soon as that was finished Flannel hoofed a list of fabrics that would be necessary for each costume, denoting the quantity and color. She explained she would be busy attending to her main line of work, but would come down to check on her progress in cutting out the needed fabric.

Rarity scoffed as soon as her new mentor was out of earshot. She hoofed up the sketches of the costumes, and studied them. It took a moment to drag out the right sized mannequin (surprisingly the one object whose name hadn’t been horse-ified, as Rarity put it). As soon as the cloth was cut, she started sewing.

By the time Flannel checked in, she had assembled the entire ensemble!

That may have been a small slightly embellished version of events (Rarity had only completed one of the five costumes in the time Flannel Fleece was gone) but Flitter remained thoroughly unimpressed with Rarity’s boasting of her newfound talent. “You can’t be that good at it. You would have gotten your cutie mark if you were,” Flitter said crossly. Rarity’s protest were unheard underneath the class’s murmur of assent.

“But it’s my calling!”

“But that’s not a super special talent.”

“But it is! I’ll have a cutie mark before you know it! I’ll just have to do a little more work to earn it!”

Yet, no cutie mark came when she finished the second costume, or the third. She found herself watching the dress rehearsal, costumes complete, and her flank woefully blank.

“Well done, Rarity,” Brenda said, as the two watched the foals’ fumbling music number from behind the curtain. “Your costumes look very nice.”

“Nice?” Rarity echoed. She looked at the costumes being worn, and then at her lack of a cutie mark. A rising frustration roiled up in her. Was this some cruel jape? This was quality work, especially for a foal. (Admittedly the stitching was a little shoddy on the first two she had assembled, but Rarity excused that as an inevitable consequence of learning to sew with magic instead of opposable thumbs.) Was the director sneering at her, deeming her work common drivel? Well, if she wanted a cutie mark denoting her talent, an insignia to her calling, she would just have to provide cutie mark level work.

She stamped down her hoof. “They need to be spectacular! And the play is tomorrow!”

After some brief repairs from forcibly removing everypony’s costumes and storming off, Rarity brought them into her living room-turned-workshop.

Some vital element was missing from the set, and it was Rarity’s sworn mission to figure out what, and earn her cutie mark. She stared intently at the costumes, willing them to reveal the last piece in the puzzle. She tried lace, buttons, sequins, but every addition seemed to only detract from their beauty, and increase her own frustration and despair. She waved off her father and his fresh made carrot dogs. She levitated a curious Sweetie Belle out of the room and magicked the door shut. The hours ticked by, and she had made no progress.

She looked at the cake costume in her hooves, just as mundane as it was before. “Maybe, I’m not meant to be a fashionista after all,” Rarity said, a tear welling in her eye. She left the workshop, dejected, defeated, resigned to be a dull boring pony with a dull, boring pony life. But as it happens, in our darkest hours, the universe throws us a spotlight, a beacon of hope accompanied by a hopeful chord. Maybe it is because the arc of the story is pulled by some irresistible force, maybe it’s what the audience expects.

For whatever reason, she found her horn glowing, pulling her away from the messy scene of her living room. She tried to resist, to turn away, but it drew her onward, through towns, through fields and valleys. Rarity started to believe that this was the proverbial hook drawing her off the stage, drawing her somewhere that her poor imitation of a unicorn couldn’t be seen. “Did I do that poorly at getting my cutie mark?” she demanded of the universe. But the universe gave no answer, and led her horn-first to her destiny. Defeated, she let her horn drag her onward, over a mountain, to a cliff, where she ran face first into a rock.

For a moment she looked at it, sputtering, and incapable of speech. At the end of the cliff, the stone stood sentry, gray and boring, and having absolutely nothing to do with costumes or sewing or dresses.

She stared accusingly and cross-eyed at her horn. “You brought me all the here for a rock?” She growled, and unleashed a verbal tirade against her horn (and the rock, and the universe) that would have made a sailor blush. And if any of her frustrations were capable of listening, they would have been emotionally devastated. But the rock was unabashed, the universe indifferent. This seemed to make all of her suffering worse.

Convinced that another bout of rock-shaming would do her some good, Rarity opened her mouth again. However, she had exhausted most of her vocabulary and all of her wit. So instead the words, “Dumb rock!” came sputtering from her lips.

This, the universe seemed to understand. A distant boom carried an arc of rainbow shooting over Rarity’s head. The stone rended itself apart light leaking from the newly formed crevices. Her eyes sparkled with excitement as she awaited her destiny, her true calling in this pony life. The monolith's face crumbled away, revealing...

“More rocks?” Rarity cried out in exasperation. “What on earth am I supposed to do with, with a rock piñata?” (Later she found out said rock piñata was actually a geode). Yet even as she spoke those words, she realized that these rocks weren't your everyday bits of scenery. A glimmer in the pile of rubble caught her eye. She picked it up. This rock wasn't... so rocky as the rest. One chunk of it seemed to have a certain lustre behind its dull exterior, a radiant purple hue that was begging to shine through. A gem, she realized, misshapen and uncut, but a gem all the same. She sifted through the rubble. They were all gems or bits of them, of all shapes and sizes. The thespian squealed with glee. Perhaps her character's destiny was not so drab as she had dreaded.

She laid out the costumes, and the pail of gems out on the living room floor. She inspected a gem, and then a costume. Somehow, these rocks were the key to her destiny, her cutie mark. But for the life of her, she had no idea what a seamstress was supposed to do with a bucket of sapphires. She turned one over in her hooves.

Rarity recalled the other week when Thunder Lane double-triple-super swore in front of the entire class that his older sister's coltfriend got his cutie mark after eating ten rubies in a row. Thunder Lane had heard so directly from her sister. And his cutie mark wasn't even a gem! Another colt suggested that precious stones were an important dietary supplement for getting one's cutie mark. After all, what else made his vita-chew tablets so sparkly? The other foals were quick to agree with his theory, though Rarity simply rolled her eyes and continued her hoof painting. Flitter shared her skepticism, though only because Thunder Lane’s oath wasn't bound by a “Pinkie Promise”.

Then again, this was the land of talking ponies who controlled the weather, why shouldn't eating a few crystals give her a cutie mark? She'd read somewhere that dragons ate rubies all the time. Now that she considered it, it didn't seem totally out of the question.

Experimentally, she popped a garnet into her mouth, and chewed on it. It wasn't so bad, it crumbled without ruining her teeth, and... She puckered up and nearly gagged. For all intents and purposes she was munching on gravel, and it tasted like the underside of a muddy boot. She struggled to chew more, but that only pulverized it into a gritty sand that coated her tongue. A valiant attempt to swallow the mass of crushed stone ended with her sputtering and spitting into a sink. Several glasses of water later, Rarity was back where she started, only muttering curses about her classmates.

“Mother, how does one get a cutie mark?” she asked.

“Oh, you know, you get it when you find out what you're really really good at,” she replied with a smile.

Rarity groaned. She wasn't that ignorant on the subject. “But suppose I already know what I'm really really good at. And I still don't have my cutie mark?”

This gave the mother pause. “Then it’s probably something related. You weren’t out trying to get a cutie mark, were you?”

“Not exactly… My horn went off,” she replied.

“Oh, that happens to every girl your age.”

“But I thought it was leading to me my destiny.”

“And what did you find?”

“Gems, and rocks” she replied flatly.

“Oh dear. Have you thought of combining the gems with your sewing?”

Rarity’s jaw dropped. A stroke of brilliance, nay genius! She pecked her mother on the cheek and raced back to the living room.

Eyes beaming with pure excitement, she took up a needle and thread. One by one, she bored a hole in each stone, stringing them along, and binding them to the hems of the costume, the collar, the sleeves, the accent thread. On and on she sewed, not breaking her concentration for a moment. She entered the “zone” as she thought of it; there was nothing in the world but her, the gems and the thread. A thrill she had not known for over two years.

Finally she set down her tools and examined her work. Her horn ached from the effort, and she was exhausted, but proud at her perseverance that would surely earn her a cutie mark. Yes, the play was tomorrow, but she had finished... “One dress?” she asked no one in particular, as she held up the only gem encrusted article of clothing in the room. No, that couldn't possibly be right. She had spent the entire evening working, and all she had done was one out of five?

“Bed Time, darling!” her mother called out in a sing song voice. “You should have had those pearly whites brushed five minutes ago!”

Was it eight o’clock already? Admittedly, the events of the day had worn her down to the point of exhaustion, and she wasn’t used to staving off sleep this late into the night, but she was in the zone. She wasn’t going to let something as ludicrous as biological necessities hold her back. She marched into the kitchen, past her mother and onto the fridge, where she fixed herself a glass of chocolate milk, and quaffed it all in three gulps.

“Rarity Diana Belle, what in Equestria are you doing? You’re going to be up all night now,” Her mother said.

“That’s precisely what I mean to do, Mother,” Rarity said matter-of-factly. “Come hell or high water, it is imperative that I have these costumes looking spectacular, if I’m ever to fulfill my destiny.”

“Fulfill your destiny? On a school night? Not on my watch.” Her mother levitated the cup into the sink, and ushered her towards the bathroom.

Rarity dug her hooves into the floor. “What? That is totally unreasonable!”

Her mother held a snicker back with her hoof. “Not as unreasonable as a certain cranky filly waking up?”

“Please, I need to finish these costumes if I'm ever to get my cutie mark! My very life depends on it.”

“Rarity, snookums, they look wonderful! Come, if you clean up and brush your teeth now, there might be enough time for a bed time story.”

Rarity had not wanted to do this, but she was desperate. She flung herself down at her mother's hooves, hugging her legs with fervent intensity. She mustered soulful, teary eyes as she lied prostrate on the floor. In her highest falsetto, she made her final plea. “Please please please! It's so important I’ll never get a cutie mark if I don't finish! This is my one opportunity! Pleaasseeeee....”

“Rarity, I'm not —”

“Easseeeeeeeeeeee”

“You're going to wake up Sweeetie —”

“Easssseee—“ She gasped to take a breath. Her mother was not amused. She turned to racking sobs.

After another half minute of groveling, Mother let out a sigh. “Fifteen minutes, and then straight to bed. No buts, Missy.”

It would take hours to embroider even one costume. Frantic, she raced into the basement, retrieving her father's wood glue. As quick and neatly as she could, she dabbed the edge of the gems and adhered them one by one to the costumes, with no regard for any aesthetic principle save even distribution. “This doesn't look... so bad,” she forced herself to say, as her eye twitched. As soon as each of the costumes were sufficiently spattered in multicolored gems, she hung up the costumes to dry, and crumbled into her bed, well past twenty minutes over her bed time.

“Er… interesting choice of decoration, Rarity,” Was all Brenda said. The two of them watched from back stage as the currents rolled away, and the limelight swept over the actors. Their costumes glittered, reflections of the gem casting colored splashes of light throughout the entire theatre. Underneath plinking of the un-tuned piano, she heard oohing and awwing. Rarity was grinning. “They love my costumes, Brenda, they love them!”

Brenda winked at Rarity. “Think they might be good enough for a cutie mark?”

Rarity twisted her neck and stared at her flank, squealing with delight.

“A trio of gems?” Clyde chuckled to himself. “Linda, looks like our little Rarity is gonna be a miner, eh?”

For a moment, our thespian's jaw gaped wide. “A miner? You mean, shoveling piles of rocks all day?”

“Heh heh, I knew your horn was up to something when I saw that bucket in the living room. Your horn sniffed those crystals out for you, didn't they?”

“Well yes, but—”

Her adoptive father ruffled her mane affectionately. “Let's have daddy's old friend pay us a visit. He's got a rock farm down west. He might have a job for you.”

Rarity galloped as fast as she could to the carousel boutique. She was breathless by the time she shoved open the door. Flannel Fleece looked up from her sewing machine, her beret sliding back into place.

“Anything I can help you with, Rarity?”

“You....Wouldn't.... Happen to need any help yourself?”

“How do you mean?”

“An apprenticeship, is all I ask for.”

Flannel Fleece Smiled. “Let's talk with your parents.”

Pizza was a very good idea, the group collectively and drunkenly decided.

At 9:00pm, Mr. and Mrs. Cake decided the party had to move elsewhere. The kitchen was hastily cleaned, the booze packed back onto the wagon. They set course for Carousel Boutique, the only place where they wouldn’t be disturbing anypony else. En route they happened across Pony Joe’s Pizzeria. The group was now staring at the neon sign of a pizza, slack-jawed and drooling.

Pinkie Pie pitched the idea, Twilight championed it. There was a murmur of agreement. In all the fuss of setting up, the task of getting food for everypony was forgotten (by Rainbow Dash, Twilight was quick to tell). They were hungry (no one had eaten anything but cake since 12pm, after all), and they were probably all going to have a very bad night if they didn’t get something warm and greasy down their gullets. Since it was only nine o clock at night, there were plenty of restaurants still open. Plus pizza is wonderful, Fluttershy added. She was very fond of telling everypony how wonderful everything was when she was tipsy.

The party stumbled into the pizzeria, bickered about toppings, and finally placed their order.

“Rarity!” a familiar voice called out.

The thespian whipped her head around so fast it threw her off kilter for a moment. “Flitter? Moon Dancer?”

Moon Dancer grinned, and beckoned the thespian over. She and Flitter were sitting together at a table for two. They both got up and hugged Rarity. “How’s the birthday celebration?” Moon Dancer asked.

“You remembered?”

“Heck, we stopped by to drop off our present, but you weren’t there! You ought to really check your mailbox when you get back!”

“Oh how thoughtful of you two! I feel as though I haven’t seen either of you in ages!”

Flitter chuckled, and adjusted her bow in the reflection. “It has been a few months. Cloud Chaser keeps on asking for updates in the life of Rarity, dressmaker extraordinaire. Now I can finally report back.”

Rarity bit her lip. “I’m…Well. I—“

“RARITY! Do you want pie slices or square slices? We need a tie breaker!” Twilight called out.

“Pie slices, darling,” she replied.

“Okay girls, pie slices it is!”

“Why not Pinkie slices?” Pinkie demanded.

“Oh, I’m so excited. Pie slices are so wonderful,” Fluttershy said to no one in particular.

Moon Dancer cocked an eyebrow. “You’re friends seem a little… enthusiastic.”

“Well darling, they have been celebrating our girl Rarity’s birthday,” Flitter said.

“Oh my Celestia. Rarity, are you drunk?” Moon Dancer asked.

“Perhaps,” the thespian replied with a coy smile.

“I never thought I’d live to see the day where Rarity wets her whistle.”

“I look forward to seeing you at the AA meetings,” Flitter quipped.

Rarity snickered, and Moon Dancer rolled her eyes.

“But seriously Rar, we need to catch up. Let’s visit soon,” Moon Dancer said.

“Enjoy the rest of your night!” said Flitter, turning to leave.

“Wait, you can’t visit soon!” Rarity cried out.

“Come again?” Moon Dancer asked.

“I mean…” Crap, she was mussing up her lines again. “I mean why wait? We’re moving to the Carousel Boutique. You two are more than welcome to join us.”

The two mares turned to each other. “You want to go?” Flitter asked.

“I do, but it’s your night,” Moon Dancer replied.

“Well, will we still get to you-know-what tonight?”

“Maybe we could stay for just an hour, then we won’t be too tired.”

The words mystified Rarity, but she soon forgot it when Flitter turned around and said they would drop by for a little bit.

“Ladies, what do you think?” Young Rarity grinned, gesturing around to her new home.

Flitter looked around the empty living room, Moon Dancer poked her head into the next room over. “So you’re living here now? You’re like the new Flannel Fleece.”

“Well, Flannel is staying one more day before she moves to Manehattan. After that, she will be officially hoofing down the Carousel Boutique to me.”

“No more living with Ma and Pa and Sweetie then?” Flitter asked.

“I’ll be a homeowner and a business owner.” Rarity clutched her chest, letting out a dreamy sigh. For the first time in all these years, she finally felt she was back on track. Yes, she was a pony, but she was a seamstress, and had a career to support herself and her craft. She and her friends were no longer fillies. She felt as though she had made well of this role, this life. Satisfied, in a word.

A mischievous grin spread across Flitter’s face. “Then after we move you in, we need to have our very first-homeowner sleepover!”

Rarity rolled her eyes. “Really, Flitter, do I want to start another adult life with something as juvenile as a sleepover?”

“Your social life didn’t really start till Cheerilee’s sleepover, just saying,” she said.

“C’mon Rar, it’ll be fun! When’s the next excuse to have a little gal party? My birthday isn’t for another three months!”

“But hey, who’s counting?” Flitter said with a wink.

“Please Rarity?” Moon Dancer pleaded, lip quivering. She was barely containing her giggles.

Rarity chuckled. “Very well, your words have swayed my stony heart.” She turned around, and paced the room. “Although, the bed can only fit two us, so one of you lucky ladies will have to sleep on the floor.”

“Which reminds me, we have to find you some furniture too,” Flitter said. “Maybe a couch would be better for dear Moon Dancer’s back than bare tile.”

Moon Dancer snickered. “And where in all of Equestria are we ever going to find a couch that's up to Rarity’s aesthetic standards?”

“I might be able to pull something out of my dad’s basement,” Flitter said, grinning.

Rainbow Dash had gone for a quick drunken flight, much to AJ’s consternation. Twilight was in the kitchen, testing some recipes she found in a mixology book.

Rarity sat on the couch in her living room, alongside Moon Dancer, Pinkie, Fluttershy, and Flitter. The English sofa wasn’t the best match for the décor, but it was a gift from Flitter who had hauled it here on wing power alone. Sentiment had prevented the thespian from finding a new one. Pinkie Pie had just finished a story of a failed attempt to court a stallion. Pie throwing contests aren't the best first date idea, Pinkie conceded.

As soon as she finished, Rarity turned to Moon Dancer. "What about you, darling? You must have a stallion in your life by now."

Moon Dancer and Flitter simultaneously blushed.

Rarity looked between her two childhood friends. Then it hit her.

Rarity's jaw dropped wide open. Her attempts to form any coherent reply resulted in the words getting caught in the back of her throat. Maybe it was the cider, but she couldn’t seem to utter a coherent thought. They'd known each other since they were fillies. She hardly knew that Moon Dancer was even a filly-fooler, let alone into one of her best friends. Had she really been apart from them that long? “You mean to say that the two of you are an item?” Rarity finally managed to say.

Moon Dancer grinned. "For the better part of a year, now."

Flitter took a sip of her second glass of cider. Beside her and Moon Dancer everypony’s drink count was in the double digits. “Well, after that summer sun celebration, you stated hanging out with us less and less. Moon Dancer and I started getting closer and closer, and well…”

“The rest is history,” Moon Dancer said with a smile.

“Moon Dancer, don’t do that. We look so gross and couple-y when you finish my—”

“Sentences?” Moon Dancer let out a giggle. “Sorry Flit, it’s just that you’re so cute when you’re annoyed.” She pecked her partner on the cheek.

“Yeah, yeah, tell it to the judge.”

“You two are so wonderful,” Fluttershy said earnestly, grabbing the two of them and squeezing them both together. “I really like your friends Rarity, they’re just so wonderful.”

“We think you’re wonderful too, Fluttershy,” Moon Dancer said, patting her new friend on the head.

“You’re half-nelson isn’t half bad either,” Flitter muttered under her breath, as she wriggled free.

Rarity wondered what else had she been absent for. If she had missed so much in just a couple of years, what was she going to miss in an entire life time. What had she already missed in her first life? What were her human friends up to now, so many years later? They probably had families, children of their own by now.

She looked up at her friends, who'd she never get to see get married, or have kids, or grow old. Her's was a life on a skipping soundtrack, only making it partway through before careening back to the start. And the worst part is it would happen again, and again till the end of time. She didn't want to abandon her future, her friends and family. She wanted to be an active part of their future instead of as a dusty photograph on the bottom shelf.

Before Flitter could claim the open seat on the couch. Twilight stumbled into the room. “Rarrrity,” she said slurring. “I think I might have mixed too many martinis.”

Pinkie snorted with laughter. “How is that bad at all? That’s the opposite of a problem you silly filly!”

Twilight fell onto the couch, and everypony currently sitting on it. “Because I drank them all.”

“Oh.”

Eyes half-closed, oblivious to the ponies trying to get out from underneath her, she murmured. “Hey Rarity, I think I’m gonna take a quick power nap. Super quick.”

Before she could reply Twilight was already fast asleep. Truth be told, Rarity could have also used a power nap, and she felt a little dizzy too, but what good was napping when this was her last day in Equestria? Her last moments to spend with her friends? She turned to her two guests, two dear old friends she hadn’t spent nearly enough time with. “Isn’t this absolutely fabulous? We’re all going to sleep over! Just like old times, we can finally take a moment to catch up properly! Won’t you join us?”

“It’s so wonderful,” Fluttershy said.

Flitter rested her glass on a coaster, and bit her lip. “I was actually planning on… Well…”

“Banana,” Moon Dancer murmured.

Flitter went bright red for a moment, but she quickly regained composure and stood up. “Hey Rarity, I think Moon Dancer and I are gonna head home. It was nice to see you and meet all of your friends.”

“Wait, can’t you stay just a little longer?” Rarity begged.

“Sorry Rarity, we should really be in bed now. It’s almost the morning. But the three of us should catch up soon,” Moon Dancer said.

“Drink some water, Rarity, and tomorrow won’t suck so much,” Flitter added with a smile.

The words hit Rarity hard. It was all she could do to hold back from hysterically crying. “Tomorrow?” she whimpered.

“Or whenever. You know where to find us. If not, we’ll come knocking soon.”

Rarity threw the two friends into her embrace, and let out a racking sob. She wanted to tell them how beautiful they both were, and how much she was going to miss them, and how she wished them every bit of happiness and health in their lives together. She didn’t want them to worry a single bit about her when she was gone. She was a vagabond soul now, and she would learn to adapt, and find new people to care about, wherever she ended up.

“I just love you guys so much,” was all she managed to blubber.

Flitter cocked an eyebrow. “Is Rarity okay?”

“She’ll be fine, she just gets a smidge sentimental when she drinks too much,” Applejack offered.

Another round of goodnights, and they were gone, out of Rarity’s life for ever and ever. She started to cry again. AJ half guided, half carried up the stairs and to her bedroom above the shop floor. Rarity protested to being plopped into her bed, taken away from the rest of her friends. She couldn’t find the resolve to sit up; her head was spinning too much. An empty trash can found its way to her bedside, and soon Applejack reappeared with a tumbler filled with water.

“I don’t want water! I want to spend time with my friends! I always have to leave my friends behind!”

“Don’t worry, we’ll all be here when you wake up.” The earth pony smiled wanly.

“But what if I’m not?” she whimpered. “What if this is the last moment we ever see each other? When I close my eyes, what if I’m gone forever?”

“C’mon, Rarity. Now you’re talking crazier than Pinkie Pie. Flitter was right. I think you’re in for a pretty tough morning already. Don’t make it worse on yourself.”

The thespian paused for a beat, struggling to keep her eyes open. “You’re not going to let me get out of bed, are you?”

“Sure ain’t.”

Rarity would just have to fool AJ by faking sleep, and then sneak back down. If that was possible. She slowly drained the metal cup, and hugged her friend. “You’re the best Applejack, I’m going to miss you sooo much.” Her tears fell onto AJ’s shoulder.

“I ain’t going anywhere, sugar cube.”

Rarity let her head fall onto the downy pillow, and closed her eyes. The world seemed to spin, and she was drifting away.

A blanket draped over her. “I ain’t going anywhere.”

Rarity woke on the day after her twenty second birthday with the grim certainty that she would never see the light of Celestia's sun again. She lay there with her eyes closed, unwilling to see the world she inhabited, to see what new role was forced upon her. She dared not move an inch. She was sick of it all, sick to her stomach of having to spend lives half-lived before being whisked away from her friends, and all that she had known. It gave her a queasy throbbing feeling not knowing if she'd wake with hooves, or hands, or god knows what.

The warmth of the light persisted in spite of her protest. She cautioned to open an eye only a sliver, seeing only blinding light. Was it the limelight shining down of the curtsying actress before curtain fall? Or was it the beckoning light of the hereafter? She opened her eyes fully and...

It was like her eyes were being stabbed with lightning bolt screwdriver... things. “Agghh!” she groaned, squeezing them back shut. She threw the covers over her head and massaged her temples to make the throbbing stop.

Carefully, with squinted eyes, she looked back up just long enough to magic her curtains back over her window. The world was mercifully dark once more, save a sliver of sunlight peeking through.

“Sunlight?” she asked herself. That couldn't be right. She peaked through window again, and there was the sun, high and golden in the morning sky. She rubbed the spots in her eyes away with her hooves. Hooves?

On the other side of the bed, Rainbow Dash was on her side, snoring gently. Applejack was in a sleeping bag by the bureau. She tiptoed the best she could around them, down the stairs, past Pinkie Pie, Twilight and Fluttershy in the living room, all still fast asleep. Rarity paused to look at the hall mirror. The face of a pony stared back at her.

Never in her life was she so bewildered by her own reflection. She rubbed her eyes in disbelief. Her mane was more disheveled than she cared to admit, but she was still Rarity Belle, unicorn mare.

It didn't make sense. How was she still here? She was twenty-two. She was destined to vanish and awake elsewhere when she turned twenty-two. The inconsistency made her head hurt more. Twenty-two years as a human, twenty-two years as a pony. By all reasoning, she should be a turtle now, in Turtle World, or some such nonsense.

“How?” she asked her reflection. She had been born into this world a filly, but celebrated her twenty-second birthday. She chewed on that thought for a moment. “Not born as a foal, but plopped into the middle of the road as a filly.” Her Birthday cake had twenty-two candles, but in this world she had only walked for seventeen. She tried to stifle her cackling, to no avail.

“Five years! I’ve miscounted, I still have five years. Stupid Rarity, it’s not counting my candles, its counting my years.” She laughed deliriously, until her the pain grew so much she thought her horn was going to fall off.

A kind, beautiful soul had left a pitcher of bloody mary on top shelf of the fridge. Rarity cleared some space on her kitchen table, setting the pitcher among the forest of bottles and cups. She poured to the brim, and when she finished quaffing it all, she let out a burp. The throbbing toned down to tolerable levels. She wrote a quick note, reminding herself to get in touch with Flitter and Moon Dancer. Her friends would be ravenous when they woke, she realized with a smile. Once the empty bottles were thrown in with the recycling, she started preparing six helpings of scrambled eggs. The smell wafted through the air, and after a minute, a rather groggy-eyed Twilight dragged herself into the kitchen, drawn by the promise of food. She looked longingly at the sizzling mass.

“Terribly sorry dear, but they won't be ready for a few minutes,” Rarity said gently.

Twilight groaned as her head slumped onto the table. A lock of her mane was sticking straight up. “I hate everything,” she said, voice muffled by the table.

Rarity looked at her miserable friend with tender eyes, wanting nothing more than to hug her and swing her around, to tell her how wonderful and happy life was, especially with friends like her. Instead she asked, “Would you like something to drink?”

“Elcetrosks...”

“Pardon?”

“Electrolytes. Orange juice.”

Said orange juice was used up making screwdrivers for Fluttershy. Instead, she poured Twilight a tall glass of bloody mary.

“Close enough,” Twilight said before taking a sip. “I don't remember bringing any tomato juice here.”

“Someone must have picked some up before we all fell asleep.”

“'Somepony',” Twilight said.

“'Somepony'. Yes, of course,” she said, grinning. In spite of her headache, in spite of herself, Rarity started humming as she stirred the eggs. She put a kettle onto the stove, wondering if Pinkie would take a liking to jasmine tea.

Author's Note

Edited by me :| May the grammar gods have mercy on my soul.

Thank you so much for reading! I tried out a few different things here, particularly deliberately flowery language, and jumping back and forth. Let me know what you thought!