What Does It Mean To Be A Generous Pony?
“I do love soufflé; don’t you, Twilight dear? They are so wonderfully delicate.”
The tea-shop was all Rarity. The furnishings, the dishes, the ambience; everything was what one would have expected the most fashionable mare of the Mane Six to have chosen for an afternoon tea with Twilight Sparkle. La Pucelle was a new café that had opened in Ponyville during the time they had spent in Manehatten for the production of Hinny of the Hills. In high Prench style and looking like a piece of Canterlot had been transposed into the rustic homeliness of Ponyville, La Pucelle stuck out like a particularly hoity-toity sore thumb – not that the famous fashion designer had anything to do with the matter, incidentally.
La Pucelle was a place that, naturally, any mare of good breeding should appreciate. As it was though, Twilight Sparkle found it nice, if slightly stifling and all too reminiscent of the rather haughty coffeehouses she had visited with her parents when she was just a filly back in Canterlot. On the other hand, she was with Rarity who did her utmost to make her feel comfortable, and while it was hardly her ideal place to rest and relax – library corner for the win! – two mares at a table were, after all, a more comfortable fit that three mares in a boat, to say nothing of a dog. Now that was an adventure that she had no interest in reliving any time soon.
“They’re nice, I think. I remember Pinkie Pie telling me once how difficult they are to bake.” What Twilight Sparkle neglected to mention to Rarity were the numerous digressions on the ideal baker’s dozen, party poppers by the dozen, popping candy, candy for Cadance, dances and prances that Pinkie Pie perfectly performed, performing at length at parties, and finally the rather extreme lengths the pink party pony had undertaken to ensure the optimal environment for soufflé-baking – now never let it be said that Twilight Sparkle did not listen to her friends. The rather contemplative look the purple alicorn gave to the spoonful of soufflé that hovered in the magenta magic-aura before her muzzle nonetheless bespoke of a train of thought that ran rather more convolutedly than the typical Prench dessert would typically invite – a sentiment that Ponyville’s pink pâtissière would have most passionately protested, had she not been taking care of the Cake twins at that moment. That the latter was also in Ponyville was irrelevant – distance was, like circular logic, no deterrent to a Pie.
“Oh, I do remember Pinkie Pie mentioning something of the sort a while back. I daresay a baker knows these things best.” Rarity nodded, spooning another helping of the fluffy treat into her mouth. An attendant napkin, wrapped in the mare’s sky-blue magic, rose to dab delicately at pristine lips – the gesture was what counted after all. “The only thing I know with regards to the actual baking process is something I once hear Fleur de Lis say: if a mare is happily in love, she burns the soufflé. Contrariwise, if a mare is unhappily in love, she forgets to turn the oven on. Fleur, last time she tried, naturally burnt her soufflé.”
Rarity tittered in her seat, remembering the adorably abashed flush that had bloomed on Fleur de Lis’ muzzle when she had last had supper with her friend and Fancy Pants at Mon Cher Cavalier up in Canterlot. There was no echoing chuckle from Twilight Sparkle who still stared at her spoon of soufflé as though it was some book that she found exasperating, frustrating and impenetrable all at once – an ignoble sinecure so far only held by one book that she had yet to name to her friends. It was strongly suspected by the rest of the Mane Six to be the textbook that the violet-shaded alicorn was assigned when she was still in Magic Kindergarten.
“Twilight, dear,” Rarity spoke, lowering her cup of tea after Twilight’s pause stretched on somewhat beyond what was considered customary – two moments past politeness and one before discourtesy if a lady had to be precise –, “you’re looking rather troubled. Is something the matter? Is the soufflé not to your liking?”
Twilight Sparkle started in her seat, her wings fluffing either side of her in badly-concealed agitation. “Oh, no, Rarity, the soufflé’s lovely, really,” Twilight responded hastily, putting the spoonful of dessert in her mouth and making a point of licking her lips afterwards, “everything’s fine!”
The chuckle Twilight gave was met by Rarity’s disbelieving stare and, after a moment, the former wilted slightly in her seat. Brows furrowed and muzzle scrunched, she looked like a filly who had been caught with her hoof in the cookie jar – or in the section of the royal library that contained high-level spell-work and advanced thaumic theorem (specifically on a thick tome on transmutation titled: Parents to Pot-Plants: A Professional Primer for Practitioners), as had been the case when she was in her second year under Princess Celestia’s direct tutelage. “Is it that obvious, Rarity?”
“A little, dear,” There was nothing stern or upbraiding in the unicorn’s tone, and Twilight found herself feeling much reassured when Rarity continued on, “but that’s not a bad thing in the slightest. Now, Twilight darling, I’d be happy to listen to whatever it is that’s upsetting you – if you’d let me, that is.”
Twilight exhaled a breath she did not know she was holding, and gave her friend a warm smile in thanks. Collecting her thoughts, she hummed contemplatively before finally putting her thoughts into words, “It’s not that I’m being bothered by anything particularly – it’s more something that I’m just having trouble figuring out. Rarity, what is generosity to you?”
Rarity blinked at the wholly unexpected question, swallowing another mouthful of soufflé before answering, “I don’t think I follow, dear.”
“Well…” Twilight bit her lip momentarily before the deluge broke the dam. “What I mean by it is: why are you so generous? You saw how ponies like that Suri Polomare can take advantage of your generosity, and sometimes I see you running yourself ragged trying to fill orders when you really don’t have to. I mean, aren’t you ever afraid of losing something that you value because you’ve been too generous?”
“Oh Twilight…” Rarity had set down the small porcelain cup back onto its saucer, her blue eyes wide and staring intently at Twilight Sparkle’s face. After a bare moment, the unicorn, suddenly and quite surprisingly, smiled coyly at the mare sitting opposite, dropping her voice into a teasing whisper, “Darling, are you asking because you’re worried about me?”
The implication in the words was quite enough. Wings flared. Muzzle reddened with carmine – Cheval Rouge, Sparkle #12 – and eyes widened as the mare spluttered half-formed phrases flustered into embarrassed incoherence. Rarity, not altogether ladylike, grinned at the sight – if only the sight of Twilight Sparkle at the moment could have been framed! Tossing her mane – and to any outsider, quite clearly taking pity on the purple pony princess – the alabaster unicorn held out a forehoof in a placating gesture, “Calm, darling. I was teasing.”
Violet-furred cheeks puffed out indignantly. “Not funny, Rarity.”
“Now that, darling, depends entirely on who’s asking,” Rarity tossed her mane unrepentantly and gave Twilight Sparkle a hooded gaze that took in the absolute adorable alicorn seated on the other side of the table, “but I do understand your question better now. I’ll need a moment to think about it though, so in the meantime,” the elegant lady surveyed the table like a suzerain of old overseeing the myriad affairs of her vast dominion, “let’s perhaps order something light to nibble on. Misfortune, as Lord High Glass once declaimed, is a dish of dessert that had since been deserted by its delectable delicacies.”
Menus were requisitioned. Light titbits were requested. Teapots were refilled. Silence reigned – for all of two minutes.
“I think, darling, that I have to answer your question in two parts.” Rarity offered at last, once the debris of the soufflé had been cleared and everything had been laid out once again like at the beginning of their tea, this time in anticipation of a plate of crêpes each – suzette for her; avec noisette for Twilight; and both as the Prench would say, très coquette. “Firstly, if you must ask why I am generous despite knowing there are ponies who may take advantage of it… well, in part, I think I would find it stranger not to be generous, if you understand.”
Thinking on her own experiences back in the Canterlot of her childhood, where the ponies were cold, the arguments hot, and the nobility easily bothered, Twilight shook her head, “I don’t, Rarity. Not until I’d met you, to be honest.”
“Let me put it this way,” Rarity said, pausing to demurely thank the grey-maned gentlestallion who brought over their steaming plates of crêpe. The stallion –who happened to be in, as one would expect, a stable relationship – bowed politely and positively glided away on velvet horseshoes as Rarity continued, “in the everyday scheme of things, it’s not something that I think much about before hoof. Being generous, at least in my case, is usually spontaneous; not premeditated. After all, sincere generosity is not something I would need to think about like I would if I were to order crêpes!”
Said crêpes were absolutely delicious by-the-by. Light as air and twice as nice as the pancakes Spike made for them that morning – the sapphire shards they had to pick out of those with their magic as Spike had made his breakfast first had unfortunately detracted somewhat therefrom – the crêpes were savoured slowly with appreciative hums from both sides of the table. Digressions aside though, Twilight Sparkle gave Rarity a look that radiated dissatisfaction with her given answer.
“Let me turn the question back on you before I go on to the next part of what generosity means to me, Twilight,” Rarity lilted on, enjoying herself quite a good deal more that she should have. Considering how often Twilight Sparkle, in their routine teatimes, ran brilliantly intellectual rings around her and Fluttershy, it was surprisingly fun being the one in the dialectic lead. “Why do you like learning? What drives you to explore your books and essays and treatises? Why do you spend so much time indulging your intellectual curiosity?”
Twilight Sparkle tilted her head, confuzzled by the rather unexpected question. The answer though, was straightforward enough that it was immediately forthcoming. “Rarity, I like learning because it’s something I genuinely enjoy! I like every part of it, from the process of finding out new things; to the exploration of the unknown; to the discovery of things that might change the world; to that moment of ah-ha! Eureka!” The younger mare finished with an excitable flair of magic that burst radiantly against the ceiling, gathering the attention of virtually everypony in the room. She shrank into her seat as soon as she noticed the other patrons staring, but after a moment – and a quick apology to the waiter who hastily trotted over – most returned to their own conversations. Rarity had the good grace not to comment, although a keen eye would have noticed a slight twitch of the ears that belied her otherwise unruffled demeanour.
“And that’s really all there is to it.” Rarity continued at last, “Being generous isn’t just something I believe ponies should be: it’s something that I can be that also brings me pleasure. Seeing ponies happy because of something I have done or something I have made warms my heart in much the same way a good book does yours, Twilight.” And it was abundantly clear that the unicorn meant every word. Where they had come from was something that Twilight Sparkle could, at best guess at, but it was the sincerity of Rarity’s speech that warranted, if nothing else, some serious, if quiet, contemplation.
As Twilight Sparkle digested what her friend had said – alongside the last vestiges of her crêpes – Rarity gazed fondly at the mare that had done so much to make her life an exceptional one. Not a day went without something interesting or extraordinary happening and, although they were not always wholly welcome, the homely way she and her friends passed from adventure to adventure day to day made life in the sleepy town of Ponyville something she would loathe to trade for living full-time in cosmopolitan Manehatten or even glittering Canterlot.
“Isn’t there something more to it though, Rarity? Something deeper that drives you to be selfless?” Ever the curious one, that Twilight Sparkle, but not unreasonably so in this case. There was something incredible about someone who was generous purely for generosity’s sake, and the inquisitive alicorn knew that, unless she found an answer that would satisfy her, she would be spending a great deal of time obsessing over the issue in the coming days and nights, as she was wont to do when answers and epiphanies eluded her.
“I don’t think there needs to be, Twilight dear. And I will never say I am a selfless mare; quite the contrary. I am an entirely self-centred mare.” That Rarity could say this without the merest hint of insincerity given her previous statement regarding generosity struck Twilight Sparkle as patently absurd. Nonetheless, she knew the white unicorn was not one to speak without reason – even if those reasons could be as capricious as Discord – and so sat patiently, awaiting inevitable explanation.
“How can I put it…” Rarity tapped an impeccably manicured hoof against her chin, “Think of it this way, Twilight darling: say I was to make you a dress as a present. For me, making dresses is my bread and butter, and while it gives me a very happy sense of creative satisfaction, it’s still in part a means to an end. What gives me joy is to see your happiness at receiving a dress that not only fits you but is also something you like.”
Twilight blinked at the all-too-real example before voicing out, “I still don’t see how that’s not selfless though: you took time out to make me a present.”
Violet curls danced to-and-fro as Rarity shook her head with a rather gentle expression on her face, “Yes, darling, but that’s quite inconsequential in comparison to the joy that I feel seeing you happy. Your happiness brings me pleasure, which I have achieved through an act of outward generosity.”
It was at this moment that the proverbial magelight lit in Twilight Sparkle’s head like a firework, and she could not help but stare more than a little bewildered at her companion, who chose that moment to take a sip of tea. Lady Grey with the barest dash of milk was indulgence, pure and simple, and one Rarity singularly appreciated. With a look of contentment, the unicorn proceeded to expand on what she had, quite clearly, put a great deal more thought into than any of her friends – the one sitting before her included – ever gave her credit for, much to Twilight Sparkle’s growing sense of shame.
“Everypony – excepting the occasional mind-affecting enchantment – can only directly experience their own emotions exclusively.” Rarity’s lips curled upwards in a surprisingly rueful grin as she polished off the last of her crêpes, the very last forkful sponging around the luxurious orange sauce with sinful abandon before being deposited between her waiting lips, “Mm~ As I was saying, I can’t know your happiness directly darling. I can only guess at it by analogy to my own experiences of happiness, or through observing your behaviour for signs that experience has allowed me to associate with happiness… like your smile for instance; or the way your ears do that little flap when something exceptionally good has happened to you.”
Rarity giggled as violet-furred ears flattened themselves bashfully, almost reflexively at her words. “I can only know for certain that I am happy seeing other ponies being made happy by the things I do and make. I know that being in your company is something that truly gives me joy.” She leaned backwards in a melodramatic swoon as she theatrically exclaimed the next words, “For all I know, you all despise my company and I’m just mad enough not to see it!”
That certainly succeeded in eliciting a snort of laughter that was quickly muffled by a pair of violet hooves. The blush on Twilight Sparkle’s muzzle remained quite visible regardless as she coughed, spluttering, “Dear Celestia, Rarity, I was drinking tea!”
“My apologies, darling,” Rarity replied, contrition and amusement bound up seamlessly in her words. She levitated the teapot to their cups and refilled them liberally before smiling at her companion who, by now, had gotten her coughs under control. “I’d be both selfish and blind not to realise that my pleasure at seeing ponies happy is something that only I can directly experience. Not every pony may want what I make for them. Not every pony may be happy with what I give them, you see.”
Twilight nodded thoughtfully, her mind casting back to something that her mother once said to her. “A pony can do a hundred things for another,” Twilight Velvet had said many a winter ago, when asked on the subject of why she and Twilight Sparkle’s grandmother argued on occasion, “but if it’s not something that that pony wants, then it’s really quite meaningless. You might as well have not done anything at all.”
Relaying these words to Rarity, she saw her unicorn companion nod in quiet agreement, “Well said, Twilight. There are ponies – and goodness knows how I could name and shame, darling – who will thrust their generosity onto other ponies quite carelessly; quite irresponsibly, if I may be bold... ‘like wealthy mares who care not how they give.’ That they have given is enough, irrespective of the happiness of the receiver of their ‘generosity’.”
The elegant mare stretched in her seat, before looking at Twilight quite earnestly, “It’s times like this that I think of Applejack, you know.” An incredulously-raised eyebrow sent Rarity scrambling to elaborate further, “Not in that sense darling, but rather because she, not altogether unreasonably, would be accusing me of hypocrisy at this very moment, were she sitting here with us.”
A mildly persecuted sigh passed soft lips that made Twilight, in a moment of surreal emotion, suddenly understand more than ever why stallions bent over backwards to accommodate the beautiful lady she was having tea with, “Though we may love each other dearly as friends, I think I can say without contradiction that Applejack thinks me quite the frivolous, self-centred mare – but I’d like to think that honesty isn’t something exclusive to her alone.” With virtuosic theatricality, she waved for one of the waiters to add more hot water to the largely emptied teapots and declared with undeniable earnestness, “I have enough introspection to know what I am, and what my passions are.”
There was something conciliatory, indeed patiently indulgent about the tone of voice Twilight Sparkle adopted in answer, “No one thinks less of you for being true to yourself Rarity…” A sly grin stretched lowly across her face as she leaned forward, “even if you sometimes drive us a little crazy – in the best way, I might add – with all your ‘fabulousness’.”
“Such cheek, darling,” Rarity drawled before nodding at the newly refilled teapots that were set down on the table, “but speaking honestly: Applejack would accuse me of refusing to be what I am; of ‘putting on highfalutin’ airs’ so that I could rub elbows with ‘them uppity city folk’ – which is quite funny because Applejack, no matter how she carries herself as a simple farm mare, is still from a far more respectable and socially important background than mine. As much as I appreciate her sentiment and her desire to be true to oneself, she really does misunderstand why I do what I do. She has yet to realise that, to me, being frivolous is how I play; how I have fun.”
The unicorn sighed expressively, and Twilight Sparkle could have sworn that something changed in the air at that moment. Rarity looked no different, but her demeanour and the way she carried herself seemed every so subtly altered. When she looked up at the alicorn, it was with an expression that was as unguarded as it was open; vulnerable but at the same time beautifully honest and void of pretence.
“If I may speak plain, Twilight. Most things in life are utter nonsense – but that’s what makes them fun.” Rarity laughed – not unhappily, but with the air of someone unburdening themselves of something long kept secret, if not necessarily shameful. “I will be the first to admit that fashion is not merely a little frivolous, but truly and utterly frivolous. The models that are forever coming and going; the ever-fickle limelight of popularity; the constant competition where designers and egos struggle to dictate the flavour of the season… I have no illusions about it, darling, but by that same token I find that that frivolity is precisely why I enjoy the bagatelle. When nothing is serious, all you need to do is enjoy the moment without losing sight of what’s really important.”
“Beauty and style are things that I live for darling. They hold my passions in fee, and engaging in a world – frivolous and shallow though it may be – that allows me to pursue them gives my life as much meaning as an honest day’s work gives Applejack satisfaction. The world of fashion may be as transient as a mayfly and as shallow as Tartarus – pardon my Prench, dear – but I’d like to think that my relationship with that world is as serious and as sincere as yours is to learning.” Cerulean eyes met amethyst – radiant transience greeting newly-gained immortality from across the vast expanse of white tablecloth in a long moment of singular understanding. “We are only here to play, my grandfather once told me, Twilight. Money, wealth, fame, beauty... we can’t take them with us when we go. Life for most ponies is short enough without knowing what it is that makes themtruly happy – and to know that, a pony must be honest with oneself. I’d like to think that being self-centred also makes me honest enough to know that I want to spend my life doing, and what it is that makes me happy.”
Rarity sat up straight, looking as dignified as any of the princesses – and indeed as dignified as a certain Twilight Sparkle wished she could look when she was being accosted in the streets as the ‘Princess of Friendship’ rather than Ponyville's sole librarian – as she proclaimed without pride or shame, “I know what I am and that is, at the end of the day, just a small-time country mare from a small, small town, who just so happens to love fashion and beauty, and who goes a little starry-eyed for the big city. If I can make the world think that I can strut alongside the highest of the high and that the hoof-sewn pieces that I dream up on my Barnyard Bargins sewing machine are fit for dukes and celebrities... if nothing else, it does make this little self-employed seamstress from Ponyville feel, well, a little bit more than grand.”
It was with a squeak that Twilight Sparkle felt Rarity’s hoof press itself gently in her fetlock, and there was something inscrutably tender in the unicorn’s eyes as she turned the conversation to the purple alicorn, “Having said that, I can’t help but feel, well, a little envious – and a great deal admiring – of you, Twilight. Putting aside all that we’ve done together or watched you do, you are an extraordinary mare, darling.”
“M-me? Wha–? Rarity!” Embarrassed protestations were immediately hushed by the alabaster hoof moving up to cup the silky fur of Twilight Sparkle’s quickly reddening cheek. Somehow, during her speech, the white unicorn had gone from fully seated to leaning a fair way over the table, closing the distance between them from feet to inches.
“Yes you, darling. You’re not merely gifted, but a genius when it comes to magic and learning. And while you come from the capital of the world, you still are very much a mare who walks her own way therein – without pretence or prejudice. My father used to say, ‘If you can’t dazzle them with your brilliance, baffle them with your baloney’. You have that brilliance, darling. I can only hope to match that with the ‘baloney’ that is my confidence and the produce of my labours.” Rarity hummed happily at the response she received: wide eyes; ferocious blush; wings all a-quiver; and an utterly speechless Twilight Sparkle.
Warmth flooded the young princess, who could only open and close her mouth soundlessly as thought after thought vied for dominance in her mind. To move away; to lean into that gentle hoof; to say something without know exactly what – the decision was placed out of her hooves when Rarity pulled back with a slight pout, although sapphire eyes sparkled with humour. The hoof migrated back to Twilight Sparkle’s fetlock, and the latter found in it her to actually breathe again.
At length, Rarity released a little giggled and gave Twilight Sparkle a smile that was as radiant as diamonds glinting in the midnight sky. “I’m not selfless, dear,” she reiterated, hoof still comfortably set on Twilight Sparkle’s own, “I am a self-centred mare. What are a few bits compared to the time I spend here with you and the rest of our friends? Whether it’s watching Hinny of the Hills or having tea in my favourite teashop, I’m the happiest of all if it means I can see you happy, and be in your company.”
The hoof placed ever so slightly more pressure into Twilight Sparkle’s fetlock at the conclusion of these words, and something pleasant and insistent spread from the point of contact down her foreleg and into the warm bread-and-butterflies gathering sweetly from her stomach to her beating heart.
“This is me being self-centred, darling.” Rarity spoke plainly, as patient as it could have been plaintive, “Can you forgive me for it?”
Words having, at this point, completely failed her, Twilight licked her lips and leaned over the table before her nerves failed her and she out-and-out teleported into the emergency book-fort she kept in the back of the castle library. In a moment of sweet emotion, in a meeting of lips and sincere hearts, she showed Rarity exactly how she wished to ‘forgive’ her.
Author's Note
It's supposed to be set just after the events of Rarity Takes Manehatten with a RariLight twist. I'm not sure it works, but that might also be because I very heavily invested its structure in the Socratic dialogues of philosophers like Plato, where the idea being explored is more interesting than the drama of the personalities involved. Experimental piece, I suppose, but probably not one that quite right for a competition.
