Insanity

Rarity paced back and forth upon the cushioned floor worriedly. Going to check the window for the umpteenth time, she pawed her face with her hooves.

What is taking that mare so long? Rarity wondered. That thought was also countered with a silent scolding.

You shouldn't be thinking these things Rarity. You know she's sick.

Sick. That was an understatement. No word ever invented could describe what Clairessa was feeling right now. Rarity let out a deep sigh and plopped herself down beside the carved ornate door that led to the outside. After about ten minutes, she got up, restless again. Rarity finally decided that a cup of Earl Gray would be a temporary solution to her troubles. Taking out her ceramic teapot, she turned on her electric stove and went towards the pantry in search of some teabags. Floating out three, Rarity returned to the flower-print teapot and poured in a stream of cool water, then set it on the stove to boil. Unwrapping the teabags, she soaked in their bittersweet smell. Settling them inside the bubbling teapot, Rarity positioned herself in a dark blue chair to wait.

Knock. Knock. Knock. Three loud knocks on her door jerked Rarity awake. Jumping out of her chair, she tore to the front door of the boutique, wanting immediately to reach it and find out what happened to Clairessa and why she was so late. But as Rarity opened the door, she realized with surprise and dread that the pony waiting outside was no other than Pitch Punk. A serious look was on her face, and her eyes bore into Rarity's skull, making her shrink back slightly to let the mare speak.

"I understand that you would like to know what has happened and why Clairessa isn't here today?" Pitch said softly, but coldly.

"Well, y-yes, I would," Rarity stuttered, the stood up straighter.

'What's going on?"

"Claire isn't going to be able to work here for a while."

Rarity's brow furrowed. "And why is that?"

"I-I am sorry, you can't-"

Rarity had had enough. Dark blue eyes fixed straight on Pitch's bright green face, she let her steaming anger pour out like a burning stream of lava.

"You know very well you can trust me Pitch! Why, every time you come here for this reason, you're as cold as a block of ice! And of course, you always act like a government officer, telling me that something happened with Clairessa but not letting go so much as a hint as to what is going on! Is there something wrong with me? Is that what it is?" she screamed.

Pitch Punk shrank back, as if hit by a blow of some sort. Hurt reflected in her neon orange eyes, and only until then did Rarity notice what she had just said. The judge-like demeanor Pitch had been putting up was now gone, but her usual joyful, optimistic personality also did not return.

"Pitch I-"

Pitch Punk turned away. "I think you've said enough Rarity," she said, hostile. Taking a few hoofsteps forward, she looked back at Rarity, purple and blue mane brushing her shoulder. In a sad voice she said: "You're right."

By the time Rarity returned to her kitchen, the teapot had already let out a fair amount of steam. Still, the over-cooked tea went into a dainty pink teacup, and sugar and milk were poured in to mask the strange taste. As Rarity pondered over Pitch's visit, she also wondered again why Clairessa was absent. Thinking back, she did notice something irregular about Claire's last visit...

Pitch Punk's sluggish green hooves had finally reached the edge of the Everfree. Her cottage was clearly visible, almost floating above the treetops. Pitch smiled, as she remembered how she and Claire had run off together, and built it here. They couldn't decide where to build it- Clairessa wanted a cottage in the woods, and Pitch had wanted a tree house in Ponyville. So, they had combined the two, to make the perfect dream home.

Those were just distant memories now. The once astonishing tree house was now rotted and sagging. The  bright yellow paint, which was Clairessa and Pitch's favorite color, was now peeling. Pitch noted that it looked more gray now anyways. As she trotted up the broken stairs to her sad and desolate house, Pitch Punk realized something. The house reminded her of Clairessa. A broken dream.

Not long after that thought, and not long after the orange telekinesis had swung open the door angrily, Derpy raced down the half-carpeted hallway.

"Pitch!"

Pitch swiveled around to face a disheveled-looking Derpy Hooves. One of her hooves was swinging a very few inches off the floor of the tree house as she limped towards Pitch Punk. Dark red stains followed her hoof as she tried to hide it from Pitch's view.

"What? What is it?" dread settled like a cold stone in Pitch's stomach. Derpy then became very aware of the patched-up carpet beneath her.

"Clairessa... s-she bit m-me..."