A gentle south wind made the atmosphere feel unseasonably warm that Sunday afternoon in downtown Canterville, considering it was still not too deep into Spring, slightly-dreary sky and blooms on the trees having not yet completely given way to small light green leaves belying the reality of the calendar. Naturally, there would be a cold snap within the week, so residents took it upon themselves to get out and enjoy the day as much as possible before weather forced them back in again.
This even applied to Sunset Shimmer. Slowly recovering from the nervous breakdown that left her confined to her tiny apartment for a month, she promised herself she would get out and spend more time in different surroundings to keep from going stir crazy. After all, even a semi-recluse has her limits.
As she meandered down a cracked sidewalk in Canterville’s bustling downtown, mesmerized by the multitude of bricks and the outlines of the buildings, looking in any direction she could except forward, her thoughts of nothing were forcibly interrupted by her colliding with some object, the knockback sending her plopping unceremoniously down on her butt, reminding her of one thought she should have kept in mind: concrete hurts.
Once her world stopped spinning, she focused her eyes in hopes of regaining a bearing on her surroundings. Directly in front of her, she found the unfortunate victim of her flightiness. Worse yet, she knew the poor soul.
“Rarity!” Sunset near-screamed to the ivory-skinned girl sprawled out on the sidewalk in front of her. “I am so sorry!”
Sunset leapt to her feet, offering Rarity her arm, which the girl gladly took. Balance restored, Rarity ceremoniously brushed the dust off her purple pleated skirt and tossed her head in an attempt to put her carefully arranged hair back into some semblance of order.
“Thank you, my dear,” said Rarity without any hostility. “I’m all right.”
“That’s good. So, uh, what are you doing downtown? I thought you said you didn’t work today.”
“I don’t,” Rarity confirmed. “I just had to pick up…” she hesitated as her normally confident tone suddenly deserted her, “…some, uh, thing.”
“Uh-oh, I didn’t hurt your whatever-it-is by bumping into you, did I?” asked Sunset, concerned. “Typical me. Drifting through the clouds, not looking ahead.”
Rarity, pursing her lips, patted her oversized purse and rifled her hand inside it for a few seconds before concluding, “No. Everything seems to be fine.”
Sunset sighed in relief. “Look,” she said, “How about, as an apology, we go up to my apartment and I brew you a cup of tea?”
Rarity cocked her head. “Tea? Well, I’m usually more partial to fancy coffees with lots of add-ins…”
“This doesn’t surprise me at all,” Sunset deadpanned. “But, don’t worry. When it comes to making tea, I learned from the best in the world. Literally. Besides, I found this amazing Jasmine at the ethnic market on the other side of the Tracks. Wasn’t even jumped coming or going, so, a good omen.”
“Well, when you put it that way,” Rarity said, shuffling her feet as she flashed a coy smile, “How can I say no? Shall we?”
The two girls weaved through the near-endless stream of people making their way through the world, back to the dumpy apartment building Sunset had for the past decade called home.
Once inside, Sunset invited Rarity to relax on her lumpy navy blue thrift store couch. Rarity gladly accepted, but before she availed herself of the plush, she took a large rectangular object out of her purse and placed it carefully, almost deliberately, on the empty cable spool Sunset used as a coffee table. Sunset noticed it out of the corner of her eye as she headed to the other side of the long, narrow room where the kitchen equipment stood. Before Sunset could fill her tea kettle and set it on the range to boil, Rarity spoke up.
“Um, Sunset, darling, is it all right if I use your powder room? I still feel rather dirty from that fall, you see,” she said as she frowned at her hands, their normal white interrupted with flecks of brown.
Sunset tutted at herself. “Of course. It’s my fault you even have to. You know where it is.”
Rising from the couch, Rarity slowly made her way to the bathroom. Unusually, Sunset’s had two entrances – the main door in the bedroom and a narrower one by the apartment’s front door that most would overlook due to its position in a shadowy corner and the fact that it looked from the outside like a coat closet; most people, it turned out, had no idea what the sign “W.C.” meant.
Despite the several times she had visited Sunset’s home and been told at least once about the alternate entrance, Rarity opted to go through Sunset’s bedroom. Sunset reached out her arm in a futile attempt to redirect her, but quickly gave up and started counting down from five in anticipation of the outburst she knew was coming.
Right on cue, Rarity cried out, “Eugh! Sunset! Are you ever going to clean your room??”
“Can’t clean; making tea,” Sunset replied with a smirk, Rarity’s grousing fading as the bathroom door shut.
Sunset chuckled to herself as she filled her kettle with water, set it on a burner, and turned on the heat. For a moment nothing happened save for the telltale clicking and hiss of gas. No fire. “Again?” she grumbled as she moved the kettle over to the counter and lifted the top of the range. The pilot light was on – a good sign – which meant the burner itself was probably clogged with gunk again. So, after donning a hair-tie to ensure her treasured red and yellow locks would not combust while performing this admittedly dangerous ‘maintenance’, she closed the range and gently blew into the burner. Within five seconds, the range was working properly again.
Letting out a sigh about her out-of-date (and probably out-of-code) appliances, she set the kettle back down and checked the burner’s intensity. Figuring from past experience that Rarity would take an absurdly long time in the bathroom, Sunset opted for a slow boil. As the kettle had a whistler on it – a necessity since that time she accidentally left a non-whistler kettle on for two hours and nearly burned the building down – she decided to leave it and set herself down on her couch.
As Sunset did so, she instinctively attempted to put her feet on the spool, but stopped upon remembering the object Rarity had left behind: a medium-sized buff-coloured mailer with a bubble wrap inner lining. It was open, its contents poking out ever-so-slightly, practically begging anyone coming upon it to take a look. A hundred thoughts raced through Sunset’s mind at once – most of them involving spider-silk for some reason – but she concluded that Rarity would not be the type to leave something like this lying around if she wanted to keep its contents secret.
After a quick, secretive look in each direction to make sure she wouldn’t be seen either by Rarity or those damned Celestial video cameras she sometimes thought might exist, Sunset slowly reached over and carefully pulled out the mailer’s contents.
Greeting Sunset were three smaller packets, also open, each containing several photographs, along with a note explaining that Rarity needed to choose whichever ones she wanted to keep for resizing, high-resolution printing, and possible retouching.
Ah, she did a photo shoot, Sunset thought to herself with a smile.
She recognized the shooting location immediately: the top floor of the Carousel Boutique where Rarity worked as a part-time employee. She and the others had had to wait in there one day when Rarity was late getting off work. Pinkie Pie, in her boredom, had immediately begun eyeing the place as a possible party location, forcing Sunset and the other girls to physically restrain her.
The room was specifically designed to be rented out as a photography location. Various backdrops adorned specific spaces. One corner had a trellis with fake ivy, fake white flowers, and an empty brass birdcage. Another spot was meant to resemble a boudoir, filled with chairs and a chaise-lounge designed to appear fancier than it actually was. Along the outer wall were half a dozen floor-to-ceiling windows with shades usually pulled down to better control the lighting and to minimize fading the upholstery, and probably also to hide whatever dust existed on the black baby grand piano that was undoubtedly cheaper than it looked. The final corner looked like some socialite’s bedroom, containing a small bedside table beset with tchotchkes and a black curlicue lamp next to a high-post bed built of dark wood (or, more likely, light wood painted black), adorned on all sides by thick red curtains tied off with black ribbons, its blue comforter and pink pillows designed to look as posh as possible, since the likelihood it would ever be slept in was next to nil.
Sunset glanced at the topmost batch of photos, taken around the trellis. Rarity’s makeup, always immaculate, appeared even more so than usual; no doubt she’d had a helping hand this time. Her long purple hair was pinned back with her standard blue diamond clip. She wore a rose-coloured two-piece sleeveless ensemble, the right shoulder strap joined to the rest of the bodice with a massive faux-crystal brooch that bore an uncanny resemblance to a blue lotus. The bodice was cinched around Rarity’s slim waist with a large black belt with a large (fake) blue gem in the centre, this time laid within a silver setting, rhomboid-shaped cuts of blue fabric continuing the motif around her. The bottom of the bodice flared out below her waist in a cut again reminiscent of lotus petals. Rarity’s skirt, also rose and rather short, was festooned with images of eighth notes and blue diamonds. Her legs were covered by what could either be extremely tall mismatched socks or dual-coloured leggings – left pink, right blue – set off by light pink platform sandals.
On anybody else, this outfit would look absolutely ridiculous, Sunset thought. But you pull it off.
The photos themselves featured some standard poses: Rarity leaning against the trellis, arms folded and smiling, sweetly in one photo but confidently in another; Rarity contemplating the empty brass birdcage; a hands-on-hips pose shot from the side with Rarity giving the camera a sassy wink. Sunset nodded at the images, impressed; her best friend was clearly a natural at this. As she put the glamour shots back in their envelope, she decided she may as well check out the other groups of photos as well.
The next batch featured Rarity in her normal street clothes – periwinkle shirt, purple skirt, several bracelets, and still wearing that hair clip – posing around the part of the room with the chairs. These photographs were not intended to be high-fashion. One showed Rarity sitting at the piano looking like she was about to play something; Sunset wondered if Rarity actually did try to play while the photographer was in between shots. The answer was apparently yes, since the very next photo had the fallboard down and Rarity sporting an uncharacteristically guilty smile as she sat on the bench with her chin resting on her left hand; imagining the scenario made Sunset chuckle. Another photo had Rarity sitting in one of the wooden chairs while holding her keytar – standard instrumentalist photo, not unlike one Sunset herself had had taken years earlier with her acoustic guitar, Mayfair. Most of the rest of the pictures in this batch were simply different angle shots of Rarity smiling at the camera or looking off to the side in various poses, clearly meant to evoke the feel of Rarity as a girl-next-door type despite the fact that her usual bearing gave away that she obviously wasn’t.
Cute, thought Sunset. I might be able to pull off shots like this.
Sunset gently nudged the second batch of photos back into their envelope.
The third envelope looked different – it was pastel pink where the other two were plain white. It was also thinner and marked on one side with an “S”. After again checking her periphery to confirm Rarity was still sprucing herself up, as well as to ensure her kitchen was not on fire, Sunset decided to peruse the third envelope’s contents.
These photos were taken on the high-post bed. The first thing about the shots that set them apart from the others was what Rarity was wearing. Or, more precisely, what she wasn’t wearing. In all of these pictures, Rarity wore a shirt similar to her usual periwinkle one except cut off below the ribcage so it fully exposed her midriff (or, given its tightness, that she may have intentionally worn a shirt two sizes too small), a set of lacy pink underwear with straps so thin it probably counted as a thong… and the blue hairclips.
Well, gotta give her points for consistency, Sunset mused internally.
The first shot had Rarity standing in front of the bed, eyes half-lidded, mouth in a knowing smirk as her hands had moved down to her hips, allowing the straps of her panty thong thing to become lodged in the crook of each thumb and forefinger, pushing them down slightly, an extremely thinly veiled advertisement for what the undergarment was (barely) covering.
Such confidence. I used to pretend to be like that, Sunset thought, a bit forlorn. Could I ever…?
Behind that photo, the next shot had Rarity lifting her arms behind her head, seemingly about to tousle her excellently maintained hair while giving a sultry expression to the camera, but her pose coupled with the skimpy outfit placed particular emphasis on her breasts, still perky despite their seeming fullness.
Oh, youth, Sunset thought with a single chuckle. She briefly glanced down at herself. Mine are definitely bigger. But don’t count yourself out yet, Rarity. You’ve still got time.
She moved on to the next shot. Rarity lay on her side on the bed, shooting a look of confidence at the camera as she propped her head up on her left hand. Her right hand rested on her thigh, appearing to gently stroke it with her middle finger, as she twisted her waist slightly to place as much emphasis as possible on her hips, though the camera position and her slightly arched back (and tight shirt) again drew the eye to her breasts.
Wait. Is she even wearing a bra? Sunset wondered as she turned to the final photograph.
In the final photo, Rarity lay on her stomach sporting an unusually embarrassed expression as she gave a toothy smile, her hands joined in front of her to prop up her head as her rear stuck up on the left side of the shot. In between, Sunset noticed gravity still exercised its influence even in the world of glamour photography.
No. No she’s not. Just some sort of pasties underneath to keep her nipples from poking out. She really is pretty.
A high-pitched whistle slowly growing in intensity began to infiltrate its way into Sunset’s brain. She blinked, realizing that her kettle had finally hit its boiling point. Quickly, Sunset gathered the photos and slipped them back in their pink envelope, which she then inserted into the packet with the other two before making her way to the kitchen to finish preparing the tea.
Rarity stuck her head out of the alternate entrance to Sunset’s bathroom, once again freshened up to her absurdly high standards.
“Is that the kettle?” she asked.
Sunset turned her head to attempt eye contact with her best friend. “Yeah. I’ve just set the infuser in the teapot and added the water. Oh! I’d better turn off the burner too. Don’t want to make that mistake again. It’ll just be a few more minutes, okay?”
“Of course, dear,” Rarity said breezily as she walked to the sofa and sat down, her obsessively made appearance a stark contrast to the navy blue couch from the thrift store, as well as to the general frumpiness of Sunset’s apartment overall. “And might I say you look lovely with your hair up.”
“Uh, thanks,” Sunset said in a slightly confused tone.
As Rarity adjusted herself on the couch, she looked down to the table where she had left her envelope. It had very obviously been moved. She briefly bit her lower lip as she prepared to speak.
“Um, Sunset, darling. Did you… happen to look inside this large envelope while I was in your powder room?” Rarity asked, her tone not at all angry or accusatory, but rather insecure.
“Er.” Sunset sputtered as she turned away from her teapot. “I… Let me… uh… tea. Okay?”
A long pause ensued as Sunset counted in her head to whatever arbitrary number was needed to determine the tea was finished steeping and she could pour it.
“Yes. I-I did. Sorry about that,” Sunset finally managed to say as she approached Rarity with two tea-filled coffee mugs.
“No, no,” Rarity quickly said with a wave of her hand to assuage Sunset’s guilt before taking her tea, blowing on it in a futile attempt to cool it. “It’s fine. After all, it’s my fault for leaving it on your table so invitingly. Anyone would be curious and want to look, would they not?”
“I can’t exactly argue with that,” agreed Sunset as she placed her mug of tea on the far side of the table from Rarity’s photos, so as to minimize the possibility of ruining them. Rarity took notice of this.
“So, uh,” Rarity began in an uncharacteristically timid tone. “What did you, um… think?”
Sunset cocked her head. “What? A-about the photos? You want to know my opinion?”
Rarity nodded, a slight blush forming on her cheeks.
At this, Sunset scratched her chin, pursing her lips for several moments. After enough time had passed to cool the tea to some level below scalding, she responded.
“You know, Rarity. Sometimes I truly envy you,” she said, a tired smile spreading across her face.
“Huh?” asked Rarity, confused.
Sunset leaned back into her couch. “For a long time after I came to this world, I always acted like I was the most beautiful girl in the room.”
“Acted like?” Rarity asked, barely audible.
Sunset sighed, not hearing. “But it was all just a front, a false projection of self-assurance meant only to further my own goals, whatever they were at the time. Nothing like you.”
Rarity blinked as she attempted to interpret her friend. “I’m not quite sure I understand.”
“Those photos,” Sunset said as she motioned to the mailer. “You’re such a natural at that sort of thing. So poised and bold. A lot more than I could ever be. It really goes a long way to showing how incredibly beautiful you are, outside and inside.”
“Really?” asked Rarity, her eyes beginning to involuntarily sparkle.
“Of course,” Sunset said. “And…” she glanced over to the envelope with a knowing grin, “Whoever you did those other shots for is a lucky guy.”
The sparkle faded. Rarity looked at Sunset, shocked. “L-lucky guy?”
Sunset nodded. “You know you don’t have to tell me who he is right now. But he must be someone really special for you to put yourself out there like that.”
“W-well, you’re not… entirely wrong,” Rarity said, a hint of glumness interjecting into her previously buoyant tone despite her efforts. “But… who said it… has to be a boy?”
After a moment of contemplative silence, Sunset replied, “I suppose it doesn’t. I just assumed, given your history – Bulk, Dreadlocks, your attempt to get Flash that I sabotaged – that it was. I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t be shocked; Twilight told me that Equestria’s Rarity has a secret thing going with Applejack whenever both are in between boyfriends. Oh! Is it for AJ??” Sunset asked, a hint of excitement mixed with mirth evident in her tone.
Rarity looked at Sunset, appalled. “What?! No!”
“Pity,” Sunset replied. “I could see you two hitting it off. I’ve seen weirder pairings work out. Can’t ever see anyone with me, though. Heh. Maybe that’s for the best. After all, being with me means dealing with me: the fallen protégé, a girl so messed up in the head she nearly gave up on life and still has no idea where she’s going, not even after opening the doors of her mind’s perception via foolish consumption of hallucinogenic flora. I’m lucky enough to have you and the other four as friends. Part of me refuses to believe I deserve you all. Especially you.”
“Sunset…” Rarity said, sadly.
“No, I don’t think I’m backsliding, not today,” Sunset assured her. “But, it is hard to get those thoughts out of my head after they’ve been there so long. Hey, did you know I consider you my best friend? Given your popularity with, well, just about everyone, I don’t know if you feel the same…”
“Uh… yes?” replied Rarity, unsure of where or how to steer the conversation, her eyes betraying a look of incredulous shock that Sunset would still doubt.
Sunset continued. “Good. What are best friends for but to help each other out? I want to do everything I can to help your relationship succeed, whoever he or she is. I only have one condition: they’d better be good to you, or they’ll have to answer to me.” Sunset attempted a smirk as she punched her open palm.
Rarity’s face fell as she said, “Thank you.”
Sunset paused. “Hold on. Are you okay?” she asked, brows furrowing with concern.
“Of course,” Rarity lied, flashing a smile. “I… have to go now.”
“But you’ve barely touched your tea,” Sunset noted.
“Sorry about that, but if I… if I don’t get home soon, my parents will worry.”
Rarity reached out and pulled Sunset into an embrace. Sunset, always glad for the warmth, returned the gesture, soon noticing that Rarity’s breathing was slightly uneven. They held the position for what felt to Sunset like an eternity. Eventually, Rarity’s breathing normalized and she extricated herself. Both girls stood and made their way to the door once Rarity had gathered her things and taken one more sip of tea out of politeness.
“I suppose I’ll see you at school tomorrow, won’t I?” Rarity asked, a pained smile plastered on her face, her eyes closed, as she double-checked she had all her things.
“Of course,” Sunset replied, returning a smile that was absolutely genuine by her standards. “I look forward to it.”
Rarity gave a simple nod as Sunset opened the apartment door for her and saw her out.
As Rarity walked down the hall, pausing to hear Sunset lock the door, she allowed her eyes to mist for a moment before fighting it back with a quick inhale as she carefully walked down the four flights of stairs to exit the building, making sure not to drop the purse she carried in her left hand. After all, its contents were still absolutely precious to her.
Once outside, she silently made her way behind the building and across the access alley into the parking garage where she found Sunset’s purple moped. Sitting in its driver’s seat once again, completely alone amidst the plastic, glass, metal, and concrete, she allowed the tears to flow freely as choked whimpers escaped her mouth. She sniffled as she rubbed her face in hopes that her mascara had not started running. It had. She rested her head on the handlebars and unleashed the rest of her pent-up feelings.
After several minutes of this, starting off at a sustained wail before fading to intermittent blubbering, she felt she had finally let out everything she needed to. Taking several deep breaths to reground herself in some version of reality, she pursed her lips and, once she hopped off the moped, allowed her free hand to clinch into a determined fist.
“My darling Sunset. I shan’t give up yet.”
Author's Note
For the full Author's Notes, please Read Me.
