Applejack's Run

Rarity sat at her massive arching executive desk, endlessly readjusting the crystal picture frames that contained photos of her friends. Twilight’s latest letter had said that they had all met up at Sweet Apple Acres and that they missed her and wanted to see her soon. Guilt racked Rarity’s mind as she considered the last round letters she had dictated to her interns, delaying the reunion once more.

Floating a small mirror from one of her many drawers, she considered her reflection. The dress she had chosen today was uninspired and she knew it. I’ve lost my touch. It’s only a matter of time before my empire comes crashing down around me and this dream is over. The numbers are never good anymore.

I wish I had someone to talk to who wasn’t on my payroll. I cannot delay the reunion any longer. So what if facing Twilight and explaining about the building will be horribly embarrassing. And so what if Applejack was right all along? So what if I was wrong?  . . . I must face them both. Applejack is going to say, “Ah told ya so. Ah told ya it was worth visitin’ Twilight all them times.” I’m going to have to beg for forgiveness . . . And Rarity does not beg! I have come way too far in this world to be troubled by these sorts of indignities.

Oh, but what do I really have? I seem eager enough to cast friends aside and chase money instead. Ugh. I wish I could just be me again. She stared disgustedly at the white executive unicorn in her mirror. What a charade.

Rarity threw the mirror across the room and it burst into countless shards as it collided with the wall. She took a moment to reflect on what she had just done. Well, that was completely unladylike. I’m not myself these days. She waited a few more moments, knowing full well what would happen next.

Her secretary poked her head into the room from behind the office door. “Miss Rarity, are you okay?”

Rarity glared at the well-meaning pony. “Everything is copasetic,” she said in a voice not quite sarcastic enough to avoid ambiguity.

“Would you like me to clean up the broken glass?”

“Oh, you needn’t trouble yourself with that. I’m leaving the glass where it is. You know, as an artistic statement.”

“Very creative,” the secretary complemented her sincerely before disappearing from view, shutting the door quietly behind her.

Artistic statement? Rarity stood up from behind her desk and ambled stealthily across the length of the room with her dress trailing slowly behind her. One by one, she levitated the shards into a waste receptacle by the door, each time catching a glimpse of herself in the broken glass. Of course she was beautiful, but it was a pretentious kind of beauty only reserved for selling products to ponies chasing dreams. She could not chase the same dreams she sold; she was too busy selling them.

If she had dreams at all, her dreams were of bits in bank accounts. Every bit could be invested to earn more bits, and every bit earned was a small victory, while every bit lost was a world of pain. Acquiring money had become more compelling than spending it. Money could not buy anything she really wanted.

Rarity carefully arranged her dress beneath her as she sat down in her executive chair once more. It was already bad enough that the dress was not particularly inspired, but it would make matters far worse if she sat on it incorrectly and wrinkled it.

She leaned forward and continued gazing longingly at her old photographs. Fluttershy’s smile gave her an innocent and effortless beauty. Rarity wished Fluttershy was there by her side. They could kick back and enjoy some coffee together. Fluttershy could compliment her on her latest fashion designs or Rarity could listen politely while she talked about her animals and their various eating preferences.

Shifting her gaze to an autographed photo of Rainbow Dash, Rarity found herself wishing the pegasus would drop in to brag about her latest accomplishments. They could continue their standing argument about sponsorship. After all, how was being a Wonder Bolt mutually exclusive from being sponsored by Carousel Boutique? Of course it was a froufrou fashion company, as Rainbow had pointed out many times before, but with The Twilight Sparkle Memorial Tower completed, the company was now positioned as a veritable industrial titan and its sponsorship was hardly to be refused by any reasonable athlete.

I hope Twilight isn’t mad about the building’s name. I only named it out of the fondness of her memory, but explaining why it’s called a memorial—when it turns out she’s not actually dead—is going to be dreadfully awkward. Worse yet, this tower’s aesthetic design was a shameless exercise in narcissism and had almost nothing to do with Twilight.

Rarity considered a photo of Twilight looking up from a book she was reading. “I’ve missed you so much,” she whispered, feeling surprisingly close to tears.

Twilight’s petrification had led to the virtual breakup of The Elements of Harmony. Perhaps their reunion would bring them back together forever. It seemed too much to hope for; they could not all move to Canterlot.

Rarity continued staring at Twilight’s picture. Twilight Sparkle would make a brilliant addition to the payroll, she mused. It would bring the company some positive buzz in the next news cycle. Twilight doesn’t have any related work experience, but I’m sure, as powerful as she is, she would find a way to make herself useful . . . ugh, why is everything about business?

She reached out and repositioned a recently taken picture of Applejack and Twilight planting an Apple tree together. They were not facing the camera, but were looking at each other with happy, unforced smiles, and seemed oblivious to the mud on their hooves. Rarity felt a twinge of jealousy and set the frame on its face, so she would not have to see the blithe photograph.

She sat there for about a minute before slowly reaching out with her hoof and standing the picture upright once more. Her vague reflection in the glass pane looked remarkably unhappy compared with her muddy friends in the picture. Rarity saw a small glimmering tear slip down her cheek, making a trail through her makeup.

She retrieved a quill and an elegantly bordered card. Dipping the quill in a crystal inkwell, she considered how best to ameliorate the harm she had caused with her cowardly excuses.

Dear Twilight Sparkle,

I humbly apologize for—

A tear fell from her cheek and blotted the ink on the card. Rarity snatched the paper, threw it in trash, and began with a clean sheet.

Dear Twilight and Applejack,

I apologize for delaying the reunion. I was—

Rarity paused and set down her quill. I was . . . what? I cannot tell them why I delayed our plans. It’s simply too embarrassing and they will surely be angry with me. Well, I suppose I could at least write the truth down. I don’t have to send it. She scrawled quickly and precisely on yet another card.

Dear Applejack and Twilight,

I am no longer accustomed to apologizing for my mistakes, for I am surrounded by those who act as if I am incapable of doing anything wrong, but I have wronged you both and for this I am very sorry. My fear and shame have prompted me to delay our reunion an embarrassing number of times. I hope you can find it in your hearts to forgive me.

Applejack, I am truly sorry for attempting to deter you from visiting Twilight. I was far more mean-spirited than I should have been; though it was only because you were my dear friend and I could think of no better way to make you see that you were hurting yourself. It was presumptive of me to assume that I knew what was best for you. I would like you to know that I am not upset with you for any of the mean things you said to me when we last spoke. I hope you can forgive me and that we can be friends again.

Twilight, it has been far too long since I last saw you. I have so many questions for you. Again, it has been exceedingly rude of me to continue delaying our reunion. I know this is desperately short notice, but do you think you could all come to visit me this Saturday? I am horribly lonely. It would be lovely if you could invite Sweetie Belle to come along as well. I’ve been blowing her off.

With the thought of her sister, she felt herself tearing up once more. Several of her tears fell upon the letter as she added her signature.

—Rarity

She resisted a sharp urge to crumple up the tear-stained letter. Levitating it very close to her face, she reread what she had written and wondered if she would have the courage to send it.

She set the letter aside for a time and reapplied her makeup in another mirror which she drew from her desk. Once she was marginally satisfied with her reflection, she rang a small silver bell to summon her secretary.

Her secretary trotted in promptly and professionally. “Yes, Miss Rarity.”

“Please send this letter with the fastest pegasus you can find. The expense is no issue. I want this letter to arrive at Sweet Apple Acres within the hour.”