The Deep Cold

by Archmage Ludicrous

Rating: teen
Tags: Slice of Life, Dark, Sweetie Belle, Main 6, Drama, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rarity, Other
Length: 5498

Rarity survived The Deep Cold for more contiguous time than anyone in all of recorded history, but it's still in question as to whether she'll ever fully recover.

When Rarity disappeared during her visit to The Deep Cold, she was thought dead. Yet she returned, malnourished, frostbitten, injured, and hysterical.

Now, well over a week after she's returned from the hospital, Rarity still hasn't said anything about what happened to her. Rarity survived The Deep Cold for more contiguous time than anyone in all of recorded history, but it's still in question as to whether she'll ever fully recover.

Published 2016-01-01 04:10:01 UTC
Last updated 2016-03-15 02:12:21 UTC

Awakening

"Raaaaaaarity!" Sweetie Belle whined. "You have to get up!"

The bed made an onomatopoeic flumph as a tiny, filly-sized weight impacted the mattress. Burrowing into the blankets from my right, my sister pushed against side through the covers, shoving me with her nose.

"You won't have time for breakfast!" she squeaked.

I pretended to yawn as I pulled open my eyelids, and the fake yawn turned into a real one. Darkness awaited me—the comforter drawn over me was more than sufficient to block out all the light. The smell was unbearable. Sweat soaked the sheets below me. A drop of the liquid stench dripped from my hair. Disgusting.

"Come on, Rarity!" Sweetie insisted. She prodded me with her horn.

"Sweetie Belle, dear, I'll be fine."

"Nu-uh! Twilight said you had to go!"

"Sweetie, I—"

Sweetie Belle's nose wedged its way through the final sheet, breaking the seal between it and the bed. She gagged as the smell was set free, and a breeze of air drifted in from beneath the covers, a frigid breath of air that drifted over my head.

I looked down into the icy floor below, and saw my face reflected by the purple light tied to my horn. Not even my eyes were visible in my cold weather gear—the thick goggles dampened the light considerably, and layers of fine brown weave formed an impenetrable layer over my muzzle. A metal cage enclosed my horn, locking the light on top of it and the cloth around my horn in place. Glancing up, I saw that the tunnel continued up into the distance, no light besides my own in sight. I tried to get up, but my muscles felt as if they were made of glass—brittle, immovable. Somewhere behind me, I could have swore that I heard the tip-tapping of crystal on crystal, slowly getting closer...

But when I looked, there was nothing there. Turning back, I moved forward, ignoring the frigid breath of air that drifted over my head.

"Rarity?"

"Hm?" I rotated my head, spotting Sweetie Belle looking up at me from lower in the bed. Her head was framed in harsh light from the room outside. I squinted, my eyes not yet adjusted.

"You spaced out again, right when you were saying something."

"Oh. I'm sorry, Sweetie. I'll be out in just a moment."

Sweetie Belle nodded, and pushed hard with her forelegs to launch out of the bed, leaving a small tunnel in the covers. It was about twenty centimeters across—

There was a way past. There. To the right, a hole, a twenty centimeters across. The wall of frost-crystal drained me of my warmth even from here. It was an awful idea. It would kill me.

tikkita-tikkata-tikkita-tak
The sounds rushed right behind me, going up and to the left, and then stopping.

tic-tic-tic-tic-tic

They were moving back towards me, more slowly than before. I chose the less certain death, and dove at the hole. A crag of crystalline ice bashed into my goggles, cracking one of the lenses, but I kept going, worming into the passage as ear-splitting cracks rang out against the floor I had previously occupied.

I had nearly turned around, before I realized that I didn't have to go through the hole in the blankets that Sweetie Belle had left. In fact, that was ridiculous. I could just take off the sheets. My horn glimmered as the blankets were sloughed off, and air buffeted me from all sides, the light blinding and brilliant...

Air buffeted me from all sides, light blinding and brilliant. I tried to laugh, but I couldn't find the voice, and instead, leaped into the snow, rolling into it. It was warm. Everything was warm. I was free. I reached for my horn, and tore off the bindings, my magic lighting up brilliantly as I lifted the bag tied below my belly-button. I opened it, examined my spoils, wearing a manic grin that was ignorant of everything. One shred of black wool, frozen in a jagged spike. Dozens of gems, glittering a brilliant blue-white. Enough to make me the richest pony in all of Equestria. The wealthiest being on the planet, perhaps the richest of all time. No sentient in all of history had ever conceived of this much fungible good, this much sheer power in a single bag. My smile faded as a thought floated past my ears. "Was it worth it?"

I looked back to the Cold. I felt drawn to it—not out of desire, not out of jealousy, not out of anything that originated in me. I felt drawn to it because the Deep Cold wanted me back. I felt drawn to it because it pulled me in. Because it was hungry.

No. That was my answer. It wasn't worth it. Nothing could ever be worth the Cold. Rather than being taken again by the Cold, I passed out over the sound of my name being called.

I sniffed. It really did smell awful.

Caution

"Hey, Sis." Sweetie Belle nuzzled into me as I entered the kitchen. She looked up, and grinned. "You smell better."

"I should think so." I smiled back at her. "The bar for 'better' wasn't that high."

Sweetie pressed back into my chest, and giggled. "Yeah."

I let her rest for a second or two, then asked, "So what did you make for breakfast?"

"Oh!" She jumped back, and twirled around, trotting happily towards the table. "I got Applebloom do get Applejack to get Granny Smith to make us some premade apple-things!"

I followed her, and took a seat—the smell was there, but not emphasized as if it had been baked. Apple pie, was cut into four slices on a dinner plate. Bits of crust rimmed the edge, hinting at a poorly-executed initial move from the original pie tin, but every bit of spilled crust had been moved to the plate. I lifted a piece onto one of the two plates put in front of either seat (a fork beside each, of course), and held my nose over it. It was warm, but not hot.

"Sweetie, how did you heat this?"

She grinned sheepishly. "I didn't trust myself with the oven, but Applejack said 'Cold pah ain't right!' I, uh, cooked it on the stove instead."

I took a bite—it was warm, rather than hot. It was certainly not cold, though. Sweetie would, obviously, avoid that. Really, the pie tasted of caution. It was pleasantly sweet, but not entirely a dessert, tart with comforting cinnamon. There was even caution in Sweetie Belle asking for help, rather than cooking it entirely herself, yet not obviously putting the whole of the effort in some other pony's hooves. I made my verdict on the taste of caution:

"It's delicious, Sweetie." I meant it, too. She watched me with a smile, and served herself a piece as I took a second bite. I savored it, swallowed, and followed up. "I do hope you thanked the Apples."

Sweetie nodded, a muffled assent. Her mouth was already full.

"Of course, it is quite rude to ask a favor without giving one in return." I gave my evilest grin. "I do think I know a little filly who's going to offer some help at Sweet Apple Acres this afternoon."

"Aww, Rarity..." A mock pout gave way to a grin. "I was gonna go there with Applebloom and help out, anyways."

I felt a little bit of something lift in my heart.

"Thank you, Sweetie Belle."

"Huh?"

"For everything," I chuckled. "Thank you for everything."

"I love you too, Sis."

Pleasantly Chilly

I opened the door to the pleasant autumn air, enjoying the sudden clarity of breath that accompanied the new season. Perhaps it was the freedom from the pollen, or the more stiff wind that the meteorologists ordered to help clear the trees of their leaves. I had themed dresses on autumn before—some had been more obvious, motifs of leaves and colors of green, grown, and orange. Overstatement is a vice of my artistic style, though, so I try to challenge myself with more subtlety. An autumnal dress might be a more simple thing, with flowing paths of silk that drifted through the air, colored in modestly mottled greens...

I would have to get to that, some day. Dressmaking, for now, was more hobby than business. I turned, and noted the sign hung in my window. "Carousel Boutique," it said. "Closed for the indefinite future." It was disheartening, more for sentimental reasons than practical ones. I put a lot of work into my business, and to see it closed always made me feel some way or another. I used to like seeing it as the declaration of a day's job, well done. Usually, the doors were open, but business was light. Almost like the store didn't exist, and ponies just came to the friend of their friend, Rarity, who made them a dress for a small fee. It made my work feel comfortably personal, even when it came to the big commissions that I lived for.

Seeing it closed out of my own laziness hurt, in a way, but I probably wouldn't stop making dresses. The art was a hunger that gnawed at the corner of my brain. I'd have to feed it eventually, and I owned plenty of my own dresses already. I'd have to make them for somepony, though. Maybe I'd start making dresses for free, for no reason other than to feed the hunger. I could definitely afford it, now.

"Rarity!" I heard the call from the distance, and turned. Twilight Sparkle trotted towards the boutique at a modest pace, a small saddlebag at her side. Her hair was longer than I was used to, in need of a trim. I stepped toward her, and felt grass pillow underneath me, and the earth hold firm beneath my hooves. The grass was plentiful, long, and begging not to be trimmed. Buds of flowers started to peek from some of the shoots, pleading to have a chance to flower, ignoring the season for the chance to pretend, just for a second, that it was actually spring. I took my time stepping forward, savoring the grass and the air as I waited for Twilight to approach a polite distance for me to respond.

"Yes, darling?"

Twilight slowed to a walk, turning to fall in line beside me, and heaved out a sigh. She was terribly out of shape, even considering that unicorns were famously the least active of the ponies. I tossed around the idea of asking Rainbow Dash to lead her in some exercises, though I had my doubts that something so barely tangential to flight would keep her interest. She was a diligent friend, but terribly easy to distract. Maybe if Twilight had wings, it would work? Twilight did know a spell to make a pony have wings... and her mouth was moving? I really must start paying better attention.

"Rarity?"

"I'm dreadfully sorry Twilight, I got lost in my own thoughts. Could you repeat that, please?"

"No apology necessary." Twilight smiled gently. It was a touch different than the beaming curve I was used to, but it still had all the warmth. "I was just mentioning that we—Spike and I, that is—have been working on a surprise for you, and it's about ready. Do you have time to stop by the library this afternoon?"

I mulled it over a bit more than a second, and responded with a bit of comfort in my heart. I had a surprise of my own for her, as it happened, so I needn't feel guilty for accepting.

"Of course, darling, of course. What time would you like to see me?"

"Anytime after lunch is good, really. I'm meeting with AJ at Sugarcube Corner, to talk over some food about some plan she had for her farm. I'll be home at half past one, though, so around then is fine."

I nodded, and glanced back to her. She met me in the eye cautiously, and I smiled back at her. "That works well for me."

As the walk continued, local silence drifted from reservation into the realm of the awkward, then to a deep pensive state. I noticed that Twilight had long since used her reason to stay by my side, but that she followed anyways. I didn't complain. I felt the pleasantly chilly wind blow past her at times, reminding me of the coming Winter. I reflected on the turning leaves of orange, yellow, and brilliant red.

"How wonderfully calm it is, don't you think, Twilight?"

"I, uh," she coughed. "I suppose it is. It's a bit quiet for a market day, though."

As if on queue, mumbling rippled out of the air and to my ears. A glance on one side, and a bit further to the other, revealed the odd pony returning a glance. The others were busy pretending that they hadn't been looking, and were setting up their stands, or browsing in a direction away from me. Twilight was unhappy, frowning. I careened sideways, bumping into her with my shoulder, startling the curve of her lips back into a pleasant bowl.

"Mmm, yes. It is a little early in the morning, though. I'm sure things will get a little more hectic as the day trudges on."

My response seemed to wash over Twilight, and I watched her alternately bristle and relax as she reflected on it. Eventually, she decided on a change of topic.

"So... have you had any success finding a new project?"

"Oh, I really can't say I have. It's been much too difficult to put thread to needle, these days."

"Oh!" Twilight Sparkle lit up in the way only Twilight Sparkle can. "Our surprise tonight should help with that!"

"Hmm?"

"Oh." Twilight's eyes darted this way and that, in the way they do when she looks for a new topic in the environment. "Ah, so do you have any ideas?"

"Well, I figured that with winter coming soon enough, my first project should be a new coat. Something big, and woolly."

"I can't wait to see it." She smiled, earnestly. "You really do blow me away with the things you make."

"Really?" I mused. "They always seemed so garish, to me."

Twilight gaped. I redirected my course, and bumped into her again.

"Got you, darling."

A giggle from her brought a chuckle to me, and I continued. "I figured that I'd go for something more comprehensive this time, though. I still want to keep my standards for aesthetic, but I'd like to make something a little more practical as well."

A nod. "Yeah, your last outfit looked a little cold."

"You'd be surprised, darling. A hood and scarf do a lot more than you'd think."

Another nod, and a grunt of assent. We walked for a beat, then Twilight dropped off behind me, stopping in place.

"Twilight?"

"Your appointment's over here, Rarity." She smiled at me, knowingly.

"Do forgive me, I was on autopilot. Something in me thought we were going to the spa."

I turned to the modest home, built in a solid and more cottage-esque fashion than most of Ponyville. There were two stories, with walls made of irregular stone unlike the bricks and wood that were the common theme. It's color was natural, greys and the brown of supporting beams of wood. A sign was stuck into the ground—

Deep Cold Caverns Ahead
Severe Danger
DO NOT ENTER, by order of THE PRINCESS

...No. It was a different sign.

It was smaller, and made of a lighter oak wood, with the words "Psyche, An Ear Right Here!" carved into it with care. A golden loop hung off one end of it, and a comfortable border had been painted around its edges.

"Are you sure about this, Twilight?"

She nodded. "He's the best therapist around, better than pretty much every one I've hand in Canterlot. He's also got an eye for fashion, of a sort, so you two will get along fine."

I selected my words slowly, feeling them fall out of my mouth like big boxes, and curving around the spaces in between. "Are you sure this is really necessary, though?"

Twilight Sparkle opened her mouth, then frowned. There was an edge to her voice the next time she spoke, an edge of insistence, but also a growl of something more upset. "Aside from the obvious issue at hand, I think that there isn't a single pony in Equestria who wouldn't benefit from a monthly visit to a therapist. Therapy is far too demonized these days, it's not anything at all to be ashamed of."

I knew that it wouldn't benefit to press the issue.

"Well. Two, then?"

"Two?"

"I'll see you at two, darling?"

"Oh," she smiled. "Yes, that sounds nice."

I smiled back, then went for the door.

Trim

"So, what prompted the new style, hmm?" Aloe's voice sounded like a mutter right behind my ear, even when she was across the room. I heard the disconcerting scrape of her scissors as she retrieved them from the counter behind me, and then I chose to take the time to not remember anything in particular.

"I've just grown quite fond of the lighter style, and figured I should get my mane trimmed so that it's easier to take care of in the morning."

"Not what I was asking, deary," Aloe muttered musically, turning my head towards the mirror, hooves passing through my soaked hair and straightening it. "I meant the manestyle, not the manecut."

I reflected. Mostly, I had wanted an excuse to go to the spa. Of course, I could have gone to the spa for any number of other reasons. Words crept to my tongue, but I pushed them back down. I settled with the plain truth.

"...I really don't know, darling."

Scissors ran through my dampened hair gently, and briefly paused.

"Mm. Are you sure, then?" Her voice was a bit muffled as she talked around her scissors.

"Yes. Yes, I quite think I am."

The scissors shut with a satisfying 'snip.' My head felt lighter, and I resisted the urge to shake my hair to understand its new weight. Aloe began to trim in earnest, each clip sounding jovially past my ear. I checked myself in the mirror—my eye was askew, again. I didn't want to startle Aloe, by adjusting it with my horn, so instead, I rolled my eyes back and forth. I watched in my peripheral vision as one of the eyes, the left one, lagged behind the other. The gentle movement did nothing to bring them back in line, so I tried something more extreme, crossing my eyes like a child staring at their nose. Upon refocusing, something in the eye caught, and it failed to move as the socket moved around it.

I swore under my breath, and Aloe stopped cutting, looking at me in the mirror. I gave my best guilty smile to her reflection, and coughed.

"I'm sorry. If it wouldn't trouble you, may I...?"

She smiled at me. "Of course, deary."

I poured my energy into that instinctive telekinesis that I was so helpfully born with, and the troublesome eye was covered in a shimmering blue as I twisted it about, aligning it with my other eye as best as I could. The eye felt alien and artificial as it slid back into alignment. I tested it, glancing to and fro, the eye following with a bit more promptness.

I shuddered a little. "I don't think I'll ever get used to that," I muttered back to her. "Lucky it's temporary, no?"

"It really isn't so bad," she tittered. "You look like the mailmare, Ditzy. She pulls off the look fairly well."

"I suppose." The scissors clicked again as my last large lock fell off. "Still. It feels... quite strange. I'd much prefer getting it fixed."

"Mmm." She fumbled around her scissors as she began the more precise work. I waited for her to make a cut, and have her scissors out of my mane before my next comment.

"The upside of all this, I suppose, is that I shall never want for a good Nightmare Night costume again."

"Was that ever a concern, Rarity?"

"Well, no." I smirked at her reflection. "But I could never do this, before." I lit my horn, rotating my ill-fitted glass eye all the way around, so that only the white it showed. Aloe startled a bit, then started giggling, trotting around my side so she could look directly at my eye rather than it's reflection.

"Oh, my." Aloe grinned. "That really would do wonders for a costume! Were you planning anything?"

"Of course I am, darling. I haven't written anything down, yet, but..." I briefly covered my right eye, darkening the world. "Were I to get an eye patch I could see through, I could make quite the zombie pirate." I rotated the glass eye back into place, ignoring the odd sliding feeling as it moved about my orbit.

"Oh, yes, I could see that." Aloe's grin morphed into a thoughtful smirk. "Oh, I have the most wonderful idea. For the specifics of your new style... how do you feel about 'dashing pirate captain?'"

I thought it was a brilliant idea.

The Melting Pot

"It's beautiful..."

My breath steamed outwards as I shuddered, carrying the words with them. I looked down to the right, where Lorencio was vibrating slightly, crackling with the lightning that infused his wool. The black sheep turned his head to me and smiled.

"Yeah," he said. "I never really got over it. Soak it in for a while, before I have to spoil your fun."

"D-darling." I chuckled, my teeth chattering some. "It's beautiful, not 'fun.' I haven't had an ounce of fun since we got in here."

I looked back out, over the ledge. The tunnel opened up to a vast and cavernous expanse, stretching out further than my light could reach. Pillars of surreal ice-crystal loomed in the darkness, glittering in amethyst purples and milky reds. The column nearest to us was massive—I could see its pale surface illuminated, white-blue given a purple hue by my light, expanding far, far across—at least as thick as a pair of houses standing side by side. I couldn't see the bottom of the pillar, or even the cavern, so far it dropped off into darkness, and the ceiling similarly eluded me. All I saw of either were little glimmers, sparkles of objects more lustrous than others, giving the column the impression of extending infinitely into two voids full of stars.

Far in the distance, I saw a clearing, where the sun had cracked through the top of the cavern and lit up a ledge brilliantly, a platform in the far-off darkness. It wobbled and rippled as I shifted from one side to another, and I realized that I was seeing it through a thin sheet of ice. Despite my knowing that it was likely as cold and bleak there as anywhere else in the Deep Cold, it somehow look like a snapshot of what a heaven might look like. Surreal, sparkling, wavering, floating brilliantly and burning in a cold void.

"My first trip with anyone is always to here," Lorencio grumbled around one of the straps on his legs in his gruff Ewetalian accent, pulling a flare out with his teeth. He tore it open and it blasted out brilliantly, briefly blinding me before he dropped it over the ledge. He continued, mouth more clear. "It shows you what the Deep Cold is about. It's brilliant. Even beautiful. Stunning."

I watched the flare tumble down, a brief thud announcing its arrival on the ground. I judged the distance silently. It was perhaps forty meters away, or fifty? Next to the flare, though, there was something off-white near the crystalline blue. I squinted.

"Are... are those bones?"

Lorencio grunted. "The Deep Cold is a beautiful, but so is fire. Fire isn't like the Cold, though. Think about it for a little."

I mulled over it for several seconds, but Lorencio didn't give me long to think.

"You ever heard of the old corpses that archaeologists pull out of the ice? The mammoths? Perfectly preserved, 'cause of the cold. Bones shouldn't exist in the Deep Cold, Rarity. Yet, here they are." Lorencio's eyes bored into my peripheral vision. "Fire is indiscriminate. If you run foul of it, it burns everything you touch. Run foul of the Cold, and it takes you to pieces, and discards the bits it doesn't want. The fancy scientists, the ivory towers, they don't believe it. They haven't seen it, though."

"The Deep Cold is beautiful in the same way a dragon is. It inspires awe. Its strength is vast. But it's hungry. And it thinks."

I meet Lorencio's gaze. His eyes are wide. Serious, and composed, but somewhere deep inside there was a hint of panic. A barely-controlled screaming fear that was begging to run wild.

"Everyone. Everyone who goes into the Deep Cold needs to see this. Needs to understand this. Do you get it?"

I nod.

He hesitates, then nods back at me. "Good. Come on, let's go."

I began to follow the black-woolen ram up a series of steps, back up the tunnel we came from.

"Wait." Lorencio stopped abruptly. "There's something else you need to see."

I joined him as he returned to the ledge, and brought my vision back towards the cavern floor with him.

The flare was gone, and a prickling sensation crawled through my bones as I realized that we were being watched.

My breath rippled out across the surface of my drink. The Melting Pot was a fondue restaurant, of a sort. It had a little bit of everything, though, and the real reason to go was its hot chocolate. I ordered mine dark and thick, tinged with cinnamon and other obscure spices. For my meal, I had ordered a simple platter of cheeses and bread. It was all comforting, and warm. I particularly enjoyed the brie—it was a travesty, in my eyes, that some ponies insisted on serving it chilled. Yet to do so completely negated its wonderful softness. It was a cupboard-cheese, not an icebox cheese.

"I'm sorry, but I saw you outside, and, uh, I really have to ask." A young pegasus mare's voice guided me out of my reverie. Her coat was off-pink, and her mane a red-pink like the inside of a pomegranate. "Are you Rarity?"

"The last time I checked, darling." I gesture at the seat on the other side of the booth.

"Oh, wow." She chuckles and begins to sit. "My editor would flay me if he knew I was talking to you without a notepad. My name's News Flash, and I'm a reporter for the Canterlot Enquirer."

"I've already declined an interview from the Enquirer, darling." I raised an eyebrow, frowning slightly.

News Flash put her head in her hooves, and groaned.

"Yeah, I know. I told my editor that we shouldn't be so aggressive, and also that he should go boil his hooves in vinegar. Still, he's making me ask." She sighed, raised her head, and continued in a sing-song, self-mocking tone. "'Hello, Miss Rarity. Could you provide the Enquirer with an exclusive interview?' Ugh. Sorry."

"I'm afraid that I must refuse your invitation, Miss News Flash." I swapped my frown for a smile. Honest and pleasant reporters were hard enough to come by on the best of days. It didn't make any sense to discourage them further by being upset at what they were ordered to investigate. I briefly entertained the idea of buying out the Enquirer. I could do it, easily. I would only have to sell one Frost Diamond, and I would have plenty left over. Plenty of stones, plenty of money. I let the fancy leave my head—megalomania is not becoming of a lady. I decided I would buy something else for her.

"I could, however, buy you a lunch." I saw a glimmer of light in News Flash's eyes, the sort that only the promise of free food could bring. "I truly must recommend the ravioli parmesan. It is a little light, but a personal favorite of mine."

"I... please. I skipped breakfast to make the train to Ponyville. I mean... I could pay. But I'd love to eat with you."

"Don't bother, darling. I've got plenty of bits to throw around." I signaled to the griffon waitress as she passed by.

After a good deal of small talk, several stories about the hectic adventures of an ace reporter, a nickname, and many, many refills of my hot chocolate, I took note of the time—half past one.

"I'm sorry, but I really should be going. I have an engagement to make, and I mustn't be late. Later, perhaps, Miss News Flash?"

"Oh, I wouldn't want to keep you." News Flash twisted nimbly out of the booth, stretching slightly as she landed. "I'll, uh, head off."

"Goodbye, Miss Flash." I stood slowly, and laid the cost of the meal and a generous tip on the table. Tipping waiters and waitresses, I reflected, was somewhat of a tricky practice. One one hoof, it was clear that sometimes a waiter or waitress could add or detract from a restaurant-goer's experience, and so it made sense to tip them for their "performance," much like a performer. On the other, that workers relied on fickle (and often cruel) customers for a great part of their pay was an ethical violation, especially considering that most waiters worked long hours with potentially very little rest.

I nearly ran head into News Flash as I left The Melting Pot. Had she been waiting for me?

"Hey, Rarity." She had a serious expression on her face. "I know I'm going to sound scuzzy for saying this, but... maybe you really should consider that interview. The gossip rags are probably going to make something nasty out of your media silence. Better to feed them something, if only a little something, so that they don't run with it. Right?"

"I'll consider it." I crinkled my smile as wide as I could, then started my way towards the Boutique. I had to fetch my surprise for Twilight.

On the way, I decided that tipping should only be expected of waiters at very expensive restaurants, where the presentation and performance was required, and that lower-brow establishments should pay their workers more, and still allow tips. It made the most sense.

Right Down

Water steamed around me. I felt content. The shower had been a start, but the bath had put me at peace. Warm. Limber. Relaxed. I felt separate from anything that had been.

"Hey, Sis! Breakfast's ready!" Sweetie Belle called up to me, shouting from the lower floor.

"I'll be right down!" I called back, in what might have been considered a small lie. It was true that I would instantly apply myself to getting downstairs as soon as possible, but less true that I would be right down. Sweetie knew what I meant, though.

Sighing as my magic unstopped the drain, I hauled myself from the bath, water streaming down my sides in rippling currents. It saturated my fur, which laced downward in low jags. Almost two centimeters too low: I had not gotten my fur cut in quite some time. I wrapped myself in a towel, wrapping it tight, and turned to watch myself in the mirror. My mane was still cut short, and looked droopy and depressed after the bath, but my hairdryer noisily awakened it, turning into the fluffy, curly mess that I had been styling it in as of late. It was a little freeing to not have to apply myself so vigorously to my hair every morning, and I enjoyed the cheerful bounce it had when I shifted about.

I envisioned it as it grew longer, almost seeing a purple lion's mane of curls. I giggled at the image, and bared my teeth experimentally at the mirror. It didn't really work, but that was okay. Lionesses didn't have manes. Although, I probably wouldn't look much more ferocious if I shaved my mane... perhaps the lion's life just wasn't for me.

I danced my towel out with my magic, flinging it at my little laundry hamper. I missed the first time, but that was okay—you can cheat with magic. I took one last glance at the mirror, exerted my horn slightly to adjust my left eye, and left the washroom.