Mending and Entering

by Bookish Delight

Rating: everyone
Tags: Sunset Shimmer, Slice of Life, Equestria Girls
Length: 2373

Sunset Shimmer bailed Rarity out of a huge jam by secretly painting Carousel Boutique's window displays for her. But how did Sunset manage to do so if the boutique had been closed overnight?

Rarity was sure she'd failed Prim Hemline in creating a suitable window display for Carousel Boutique—only to find the most beautiful of artworks in those same windows the next morning. Even more surprising: Sunset had painted and arranged them.

A most wonderful turn of events, as far as Rarity was concerned—with just one problem.

How did Sunset manage to paint the window displays of a closed boutique overnight?

Part of the Montage Cinematic Universe.

Published 2018-01-22 18:40:07 UTC
Last updated 2018-01-22 18:40:07 UTC

Very Carefully

Sunset Shimmer stood in front of Carousel Boutique, and checked her phone. It was almost 10:00pm. She looked around—the streets were nearly deserted. She nudged the door to the boutique—unlocked. The shop was still open, and nobody who knew her was around.

In other words, everything was perfect. Holding a rolled-up piece of poster paper tightly under her arm, she walked inside.

Carousel Boutique looked as it always did—lavishly furnished and full of beautiful designs, consisting of flowing lines and elegant, jewelry-related shapes. Those designs extended not only to the the building's interior decorating, but also the clothing the boutique housed. Sunset admitted to secretly feeling at home whenever she visited Rarity at work. In another lifetime, she could easily have worked here herself.

But Rarity's passion, as she had stated for the longest time, was to bring her personal penchants for creativity, artistry, and design to life for the benefit of others. Seeing others achieve joy through her creations, in even the smallest of ways, made Rarity feel alive inside. It gave Rarity the motivation to keep creating, and keep feeling joy herself, which she always poured into the next creative endeavor—an infinite loop of happiness.

Meanwhile, it had been less than a year before Sunset Shimmer could truthfully say she'd even started to understand what it was like to care for other people—to say nothing of other ponies back in Equestria.

Sunset closed her eyes, curled her fingers, and took a deep breath, pushing the shameful memories of who she used to be to the back of her mind. It was certainly becoming easier to do, but it wasn't an activity she enjoyed having to do.

And yet, Sunset refused to take steps to erase those memories from her mind completely. As troublesome as they could be to manage whenever they popped up, they also allowed her to remind herself just why she was doing things like... well, like what she was about to do.

Anything for my friends.

Sunset clasped her hands together.

Absolutely anything. You all saved my life, and my future. I'll repay that favor, as many times as it takes, whenever it's in my power. And more, if I can. Because I love you all, so much.

"Can I help you?" a voice said, jarring her from her thoughts.

Sunset opened her eyes. A tall, suited, gray-skinned and pink-haired woman stood in front of her, forcing Sunset to look up due to the woman's stature. "Um, yes, hello," she said, shifting to a smile in short order. "Miss Hemline, I presume?"

Prim Hemline narrowed her eyes. "Yes? Do we know each other?" She adjusted her glasses, leaning in for a closer look at the girl in front of her. She then pulled back, her eyes widening in invitation. "Ah, yes. I've seen you with Rarity quite a bit. One of her friends?"

"Yes, ma'am." Sunset nodded, holding out her hand. "I'm Sunset Shimmer. It's very nice to meet you."

Prim shook Sunset's hand and nodded in return. "The same," she said, then craning her neck to look behind Sunset. "I must also admit that I'm surprised to not see Rarity with you."

Prim walked outside of the boutique, and Sunset followed. The two stopped in front of the boutique's window displays. Paint supplies still lay inside both, and while the mannequins within were suitably adorned, the display walls themselves were half-painted, half-scrawled over with mural attempts that looked... "rushed", to put it charitably. Sunset hadn't been impressed when she first saw them, but she wasn't about to tell Rarity that.

"Rarity was in the midst of a project for the boutique. She was here most of yesterday and all of today." Prim checked her wristwatch. "But it's rather late, and her deadline is tomorrow afternoon, when the Canterlot City Fashion Week style scout visits. I saw her leave the shop an hour ago, but..." She trailed off.

Sunset took one more deep breath. It was time to put some of the skills from the old days back to work. She only hoped she still had it in her to pull them off. "Actually, Miss Hemline," she said, "that's exactly what I wanted to talk to you about."

"Oh?" Prim said. "Go on."

Sunset rolled her wrist. "I think it's fair to say that we've both watched Rarity work her fingers to the bone on this project."

Prim nodded. "Honestly, she's already duly impressed me over the last several months." She looked up at the window display and sighed. "That said, I don't keep her on for her groundbreaking design talents. What she brings to the table in that department is average. Sometimes slightly above when she gets extremely lucky.

"However, she makes up for that with her work ethic. Her dedication." Prim gestured to the window display. "Even with this, I see the effort. I see the sweat." She huffed and rolled her eyes. "Unfortunately, sweat does not go very far when it comes to Fashion Week judges. I should know—it took far too much of my own, over far too many years, for me to be where I am today."

"I respect that a great deal," Sunset said. "And I know Rarity does, too."

"Then the sweat was worth it," Prim replied, as the two went back into the shop. "But I will likely have to have what Rarity's come up with here replaced as soon as possible. A pity. Anyway, you said you had a reason for being here? I'm about to close, so you'll have to make it quick. I certainly hope you don't expect me to take any custom orders sixty seconds before closing."

Sunset shook her head. "Certainly not. But I will ask for a huge favor. If it's okay."

Prim tilted her head. "Name it first, then we'll decide from there."

"I'm an artist as well," Sunset said. "When Rarity went home, she discussed her vision for your display with me, but regretted that—in her own words—she 'didn't have the skill to pull it off'. So she told it to me, and I interpreted what she described."

She unrolled the poster paper in her arm, and showed its contents to Prim, whose eyebrows shot up in a matter of moments. Sunset took it as a good sign—even when others suggested she do so, she hadn't yet gotten up the nerve to try pitching her artwork to professionals. "I can put this into practice with your display, easily. If you'll let me."

Prim placed her fingers to her chin as she looked over the picture before her. She furrowed her eyebrows, and fidgeted her jaw back and forth, for an almost unbearable number of seconds, before exhaling through pursed lips.

"I'm not the biggest fan of letting unknown factors muck about my shop, Sunset. I'm sure you understand. There are business logistics in place which must be considered regarding what you're proposing—and they are just the start of the myriad possible complications which could arise."

Sunset was used to denials. Her old self always treated them as challenges as she manipulated students and authority figures into giving her what she wanted, without batting an eyelash. Once more, she told herself that those days were long past. Even if it required calling on old instincts, this was negotiation.

She pressed on, regretting that she had only one card to play, but determined to play it to its fullest. She'd made Rarity cry for years. No longer.

"Please, Miss Hemline," she said, gripping the top of the poster more firmly. "I know this means a lot to Rarity." She gestured around the shop. "Pleasing you, and seeing this boutique, which she's put so much of herself into, thriving and making people happy, means so much to her."

She saw Prim's face soften, just a bit. Sunset went for the gusto, looking squarely into Prim's eyes.

"I've seen someone at the end of their rope before. And more importantly, I've seen Rarity at the end of her rope before. I know that, to you, this is a side project. Fashion Week happens every year, and you have more than enough inside this shop to impress any scout. But to Rarity, it was her chance to really prove herself. And she already feels like she's failed. Not just herself, not just the shop, but also you."

Prim sighed and shook her head. "If there is one complaint I have about that girl, it is that everything is of world-ending importance to her. She and I will have to talk about that sooner than later." She put her hands on her hips, staring towards the wall past Sunset. "I suppose it might not be the end of the world for me to occasionally let her know that I'm actually in her corner."

"That's great!" Sunset said. "She'll learn the lesson that life goes on, even after failure. But in the meantime, that still leaves you with a window display which could stand to look that much better. One that could still wow your scout if treated right. Let me take care of that. Please. She's..." Sunset looked away. "She's done so much for me. More than you know."

Once more, Prim made a show of thinking long and hard about Sunset's words—to say nothing of making Sunset antsy in the depths of her heart—before finally answering. "Sunset?"

An apprehensive Sunset looked back at a Prim Hemline whose expression was both satisfied and determined. She barely had time to register what that expression meant before Prim asked, "How do you take your coffee?"

Sunset smiled, her heart leaping with joy and relief. "I'm a chai latte girl, actually."

Prim chuckled. "You'll fit right into this business." She walked to her dresser, dug into her purse, and slipped two bills into Sunset's hand. "Two grandes, on me. Go get them, we'll need them."

Sunset took the bills eagerly, then allowed Prim to lead her to the displays, and open their access doors to show Sunset where she could enter and exit them. "Be sure to close them fully if you want to paint them properly," Prim said. "You likely already know from Rarity how much of a stickler I am for quality."

"Yes, ma'am," Sunset said. "I'll stick to those standards."

"See that you do," Prim said. "How long do you think you'll need?"

Sunset looked at the drawings on the poster paper, then looked inside the window displays. "I know we're on borrowed time here. If I work at a fast but measured pace, I can have us out of here in six hours."

"No need for that much of a rush," Prim said. "I have cots in the back for just such occasions. Usually they're for all-night sewing benders, but you're welcome to them just the same. It looks like we'll both need them. At any rate, feel free to get wired, then get to work."

Sunset chuckled. "Will do. Thanks so much, Miss Hemline." She turned to leave for the nearby coffee shop.

"Oh, and Miss Shimmer?"

Sunset turned to around to see Prim's eyes glinting from the fluorescent lighting above. "I am to assume we never had this conversation? If only for a certain street artist's sake?"

Sunset froze. "I—"

"You're as good a storyteller as Rarity is a designer," Prim continued, with a sly smile tugging at one corner of her mouth. She pointed to Sunset's poster. "But your... 'distinct' art style has garnered a bit of a reputation. I recognized it right away. That said, Rarity is exceedingly lucky to have a friend such as you. Allow me to tell you now what I plan to tell her tomorrow: be proud of your talents, and of yourself."

Sunset thawed. Thank goodness. "I'll work on that. Thanks again," she said, calming down while also nursing an acute case of flattery.

Prim walked over and handed Sunset a piece of paper. "Standard release of liability form. Even 'favors', as you call them, must be kept on the books."

Sunset looked the paper over. The wording was sparse, to the point, with no fine print. The display window job would be an unpaid piece of creative work, and she would be have to be careful—Carousel Boutique would assume no liability if she hurt herself.

Which was fine with Sunset. It wasn't as if she ever painted her murals for compensation, or even "exposure", and working inside a boutique window would be a lot more comfortable than working with a brick wall outside. She signed the paper on the bottom line and handed the paper back.

"Very good." Prim took the paper, and walked along the boutique, stopping amidst several elaborately-dressed mannequins. "I will begin taking inventory of the boutique's outfits, as well as auditing our outstanding orders. It will take me several hours as well, but I should do so anyway since scouts are coming. Take what time you need, but do try to hurry just the same. I like my beauty sleep as much as you younger girls."

"I understand," Sunset said. "Let's put this shop's best face forward."

Prim's eyebrows raised. "Seriously, you would fit in so well here."

Sunset left the boutique, pulling her hoodie over her head, and tucking her hair inside. It was time to go to work—but like every other night, no one could know just who was working. Even if the mysterious street artist Flanksy was, for once, about to embark on a legitimate assignment.

Sunset stopped outside to look at the displays, her mind's eye replacing their current contents with her own vision, her own design—a design that, hopefully, Rarity would be proud of, and which still did Rarity's wonderful dresses justice.

She thought of what Rarity's sure-to-be-pleasantly-surprised face would look like when she arrived in the morning. She thought of Rarity's future career prospects, which Rarity herself would no longer have to worry about. At least not for a long time.

And I'll have helped make it happen. I'll have helped make her life better.

As the warmest and most welcome of feelings spread through her body, Sunset hugged herself and smiled.

"So, this is what it's like," she whispered, to nobody in particular.