“Gabardine,” Twilight read. “A firm, tightly woven fabric of worsted cotton, polyester, or other fiber, with a twill weave. Also, a long, loose coat or frock worn by earth ponies of the pre-classical era. Gabble, to speak or converse rapidly and unintelligibly. Also, rapid, unintelligible talk or any succession of unintelligible sounds. Gable, the portion of the front or side of a building enclosed by or masking the end of a pitched roof. Also—“
A sudden gust of wind appeared, flipping the pages the book. The filly could only watch helplessly as the pages turned all the way back to B. Stupid wind! Twilight pouted. Stupid outdoors. If it hadn’t been for her brother she’d never have left her room. Reading inside was far more comfortable. She could relax on her soft cushion, a bowl of cool milk beside her, and completely lose herself in her book. No noise, no wind, no distractions.
“Gable,” Twilight repeated levitating her favorite bookmark out of her saddlebag. “Gable. Gable. Gable.” A new gust of wind brushed over her, flipping the book right to A. “Aardvark…” she grumbled.
Twilight let out a deep sigh. She had hoped to reach J today, but with the frequent weather interruptions it seemed unlikely. Thinking back, her brother had warned her that the Canterlot weather team were scheduled to bring in clouds for tonight’s downpour. In fact, he had insisted that she leave her book altogether and “enjoy the grass and fresh air”. Of course, Cadance had secretly slipped a dictionary in her saddlebag. Best foalsitter ever!
“Gable. Gable. Gable,” the filly said loudly, flipping the pages over with her hoof. Halfway through there was another gust. Feeling it in her mane, the filly pressed against the pages of the book with both hooves. “Gable!” She repeated in defiance.
A leaf, brushed off from a nearby tree, hit her on the muzzle.
“Aw.” The filly winced, fighting the urge to rub her nose. Big brother, why did you make me—
Twilight froze. From the corner of her eye she could see her bookmark flick into the air, no longer held by her magic, then get swept away by the wind.
“No! My favorite bookmark!” the filly squeaked, jumping to her hooves. The bookmark was a gift for her seventh birthday, made of purple fabric and embroidered with her favorite constellations—Leo and Orion. She had always taken great care of it, keeping it in its case when not used. And now she had managed to lose it… on the first time she’d taken it outside.
I hate the outdoors! The filly gritted her teeth, putting the dictionary in her saddlebags, and breaking into a wild gallop as fast as her little legs would take her. She could see the marker fly away towards the Canterlot gardens, but as much as she tried to catch up, the distance grew more and more. Soon the gallop became a canter, then slowed down to a trot, a walk, and finally halting to a complete stop as the filly tried to catch her breath.
I’m never going out again! Twilight shouted silently. From now on I’ll—
“Hello,” a voice nearby said.
Twilight raised her head. A few steps away, standing in front of the scroll holder statue, a white-coated unicorn filly was staring at her. She seemed the same age as Twilight, her coat and mane groomed to perfection, but also unmistakably sad. Her coat is a white as Princess Celestia’s, Twilight thought. Did she lose something as well?
“Hello,” Twilight said, unsure how else to respond. Should I ask her if she’s seen my bookmark? “That’s Inkhoof the Great.” Twilight pointed at the statue next to the filly. “She’s considered to be one of the ten greatest Equestrian scholars of all time.”
“Is she?” The other smiled. “I just thought she looked nice. I’m Rarity.” The “a” sound was softer and more stretched than Twilight was used to, making the name sound like “rearity”.
Nice? “Twilight Sparkle. Did you move here?”
“No.” Rarity looked back at the statue. “My parents brought me here to go to hospital.”
“Hospital?” Twilight blinked. “Why?”
“There’s something wrong with my horn.” Rarity placed her forehoof on the base of the statue. “I get headaches when I try to cast spells. The doctors said that it’s because my horn is getting thicker.”
“Corneuspetrosis,” Twilight nodded. “The condition or abnormal bone density of the horn that can disrupt the flow of magic throughout the body. If untreated could cause headaches, loss of magic, and, in rare cases, blindness.”
Rarity glanced at her wide-eyed.
“I was reading a dictionary up to just now,” Twilight said with pride. “Until the wind snatched my bookmark and blew it away,” she added with a sigh. “It was the one I—“ Twilight stopped. Rarity had turned away again. “Does it hurt?”
“No, not anymore. It used to when I was younger. Then my parents started taking me to doctors and I got used to it.” Rarity slid her hoof along the statute, before making her way to the nearby bench. “I get tired a lot. The doctor said that because magic isn’t circulating properly through my horn it’s constantly weakening my body.”
“Oh.”
“What’s Canterlot like?” Rarity asked, as she sat on the bench. Looking at her curled up, Twilight could see how thin she actually was. “Is it true that you can see the Princess walking throughout the streets?”
“Umm, sometimes.” Twilight had seen Princess Celestia many times. Everypony had. The Princess was on her balcony every morning to raise the sun and then every evening again to set it.
“I hope to see her once I’m out hospital. Mom says it should take three or four days.” Rarity yawned, covering her mouth with her hoof. “We’ll be going straight home after that, so I don’t know if I’ll manage.”
I must get going, Twilight thought. Every moment she spent here her bookmark was getting further and further away. Even now it was doubtful she would ever be able to find it, but if she didn’t try it would be lost for sure. And yet she felt she couldn’t just walk away just like that. I’ll thank her and wish her good luck. Twilight played out the conversation in her head. Rarity was tired anyway and had to go to the hospital soon. Most likely she wouldn’t even notice Twilight leaving.
“Do you like reading dictionaries?” Rarity rested her head on the bench.
“Huh?” Twilight blinked. This wasn’t a question she expected or was prepared for.
“You said you were reading a dictionary before you came here. Tell me about it.”
“Well, it’s a dictionary.” Twilight said, considering the question. “My mother gave it to me for Hearth’s Warming so I could develop my vocabulary.” And because I begged her for months. “I’ve already read it twice, but I find it so enjoyable I keep rereading it.” She moved closer to the bench, sitting on the ground beside it. “I had just reached G before the wind picked up.”
“You’re so funny,” Rarity giggled. “Do you have a favorite word?”
“Am not!” Twilight pouted. “And I don’t have a favorite word! I like all words equally!”
“Uh huh.” Rarity Smirked. “And you don’t have a favorite color or taste of ice cream I suppose?”
“Colors and ice cream are completely different!” Twilight said getting more flustered by the moment. “And if you must know—“
“Can you read me a bit?”
You’re making no sense! Twilight wanted to say. Dictionaries are a personal experience that should be enjoyed in perfect calm.
“Please?” Rarity’s voice trembled. “I’m scared.”
Twilight felt like she had been hit with a wet cloth on the muzzle. Those three words made her see Rarity in an entirely new light—no longer a tourist filly come to Canterlot because of Corneuspetrosis, but somepony far closer. Memories came flooding back of the times Twilight had used the very same words. During thunderstorms at night she would often go to her parents’ room and tap on the door seeking safety and protection, and each time they would smile and read her favorite story: The Adventures of Firefly. Now she had been asked to help. Taking the dictionary out of her saddlebag, Twilight turned the pages to the letter G, then cleared her throat.
“Gable, the portion of the front or side of a building enclosed by or masking the end of a pitched roof,” Twilight read. “Also, a decorative member suggesting a gable. Gad, to move restlessly or aimlessly from one place to another. Also, the act of gassing. Gadabout.” She could see Rarity relax. The other filly remained silent, grasping at Twilight’s every word. It was almost as if Twilight was reading to herself.
A page passed, then a second, and a third. Twilight kept on reading, every now and then glancing at Rarity to gage her interest. Ghastly, giraffe, goal... words kept passing on until at one point the final G word was reached. Twilight read it clearly, then paused feeling a sense of achievement. She hadn’t reached J as originally planned, but H was achievement nonetheless considering ten circumstances. With a bit of effort she could catch up in the afternoon.
“You stopped?” Rarity raised her head.
“We reached the end of the letter,” Twilight explained. “It will be hours before we get to I. It’s best to stop upon reaching a new letter. I’ll just mark it and we can continue tomorrow.”
“I’ll still be in the hospital tomorrow.” Rarity forced a bitter smile. “And you lost your bookmark, remember?”
“Right. I forgot about that.” Twilight lied. She remembered perfectly she had lost her gift. Further, she had chosen to lose it and stay with Rarity instead. It was a silly illogical choice to make, yet she didn’t feel any regret. “I’ll remember it. There are only twenty-six letters in the alphabet, so it won’t be difficult.”
“Thank you. Your bookmark must have been precious.” Rarity stood up. “Let me make you a new one.”
Without further explanation the filly closed her eyes. Shivers passed throughout her body, as tiny specks of light began appearing on her horn. Like fireflies swarming at the start of evening, more and more popped up until Rarity’s entire horn was entirely covered in light. Torrents of sweat trickled down her face, as she forced the magic to envelop her horn, then focused it on her mane. Twilight gasped watching strands of purple mane twist and weave into one another into a ribbon.
Rarity’s entire body shook as she made one final push, separating the ribbon from the rest of her mane. The deed done she collapsing onto the bench, her horn returning to its normal state.
“There,” Rarity managed to say, gasping for air.
“But your headaches,” Twilight managed to say, staring at Rarity in disbelief. “Your horn...”
“I know it can’t replace the one you lost, but you’ll be able to use it,” Rarity whispered. “And maybe have something to remember me by.”
Twilight didn’t say a word. She levitated the bookmark up to her face . It was thin and smooth, like a purple ribbon, all covered in small white letters. A large R was placed at the top, within a white circle, leaving no doubt as to who had made it. By all standards it was far too small to be a bookmark, but Twilight placed it between the pages of her dictionary all the same.
“Opalescence,” Twilight said, putting the book back in her saddlebag. “My favorite word is Opalescence.” She paused, uncertain what to do next. “You’ll be here tomorrow, right?” She asked, hopeful. “I can read you a few more letters then. There are a lot of interesting words in the K section.”
“I promise,” Rarity yawned. “Tomorrow after I’m out of hospital.”
Tomorrow, Twilight thought. They would have more time to read tomorrow. The purple filly stayed for a while, watching Rarity as she struggled to remain awake. Not too long after the Rarity’s mother came and took her daughter away, probably to the hospital. She didn’t pause to say hello to Twilight, she didn’t even notice her, but that was alright since Twilight knew they would have tomorrow. Dictionary in her saddlebag, she galloped back home, dashing into her room as she always did.
Rarity wasn’t in the park the next day, or the day after. Both times Twilight would sit on the bench near the statue of Inkhoof and read a book, dictionary at the ready. Both times she would leave disappointed, yet hopeful for the next day. On the third day Twilight opened the dictionary on the letter C and started reading.
“Corneuspetrosis, an extremely rare inherited disorder whereby a unicorn’s horn hardens, becoming denser, disturbing the circulation of magic throughout the body. If left untreated the disorder might cause fatigue, headaches, blindness, and the inability to use magic. Although treatment for the disorder exists, it is common for patients to suffer short and medium term memory loss as a result...”
“And these are my clothes?” Rarity asked looking in the wardrobe. She still couldn’t get used to not remembering things. Her parents had explained time and time again that she had been ill and might be “a bit forgetful” as a result, but she had yet to accept it. “They are horrid!”
“Sweetie, your clothes are the same as they always were,” her mother sighed. “But if you want we can go out and buy you new ones.”
“No, it’s fine.” Rarity shook her head even if her stomach was churning at the dreadful color combinations. Trying to keep herself from looking away, the filly magicked the wardrobe door shut. “It’s just weird how I can remember some things and not others.”
“Cookie, it will get better in time. I know it must be confusing right now, but give it time and you’ll see. Besides—“ her mother levitated a masked from the hallway into the room “—your father and I brought you someone to help you get better.”
“Aww!” Rarity rushed towards the basket. A small white kitten had curled up inside, sleeping comfortably on a purple cushion. “Thanks, Mom! Thanks, Dad! It’s so cute!” She gently petted the ball of fluff, completely forgetting her previous concerns. “I’ll call her Opalescence,” Rarity said firmly. She had no idea what the word meant or where she knew it from, but it felt warm and special, as if it was something very important in her life.
