Always Time for a Few More
Always Time for a Few More
Author's Note
As the description states, this story was originally meant to be my entry into the Iron Author competition at Everfree Northwest 2018 (my first pony con and my first competition). The prompt was to use the words ‘palpable,’ ‘fire,’ and ‘brooch’ in the story somehow. This is what became of that. After you’re done reading, see this blog post for some other context.
You’ll probably need it.
Always Time for a Few More
“This… No, this simply won’t do!” Rarity cried, gesturing her hoof in Twilight’s direction before pacing back and forth in her workshop.
“Rarity, what’s wrong?” Twilight asked with a cocked brow. “I loved—no, still love the dress you made me for my first Grand Galloping Gala! Why do you feel so obligated to make a whole new one for this year?”
“Because darling, you simply can’t wear that kind of formal attire to the same function—especially one as important as the Gala—more than once!”
“…What?”
“All the same ponies attend the gala every year! You’ve seen them! And they’ll all have seen you in that dress before!”
With a deadpan stare, Twilight responded, “And this is a problem… why?”
“Twilight,” Rarity huffed, “if you wear a dress so stunning—if I do say so myself—as the one you wore that year, if you were to wear it again, ponies will think you’re… recycling your clothing! That is a crime against fabulosity!” Rarity stomped her hoof on the floor. “And I simply won’t have that!”
Twilight shook her head and sighed. “Rarity, don’t you already have countless orders from your other stores? And a new set that Sapphire Shores asked for? You’ve been talking about it every day since they all came in—how much time it was going to take, how we probably wouldn’t see you outside the boutique for about a week… How in Equestria are you going to find time to do this for me? Besides, the other girls are intending to go in their dresses from our first year also, and they’re absolutely fine with wearing them again.”
Rarity moved with lightning speed between the mannequins in her shop. “Many of these orders are mostly done, Twilight. They each have their own little finishing touches that need to be made. I just need to think of exactly what. I can take a moment to work on something new; it’ll clear my head and give me the ideas I need. One customer asked for something with a unique veil, another is looking for a style of brooch that I don’t think even exists, another—they’re WHAT?”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Spike! Can you do me a favor?” Twilight called as she entered the castle and shut the door behind her.
Spike came scampering down the stairs. “Sure, Twi. What’s up?”
“Can you go and talk some sense into Rarity? She won’t listen to me,” she groaned. “She’s insisting on creating new dresses for the five of us for the gala again this year, and she’s already got enough on her plate. We don’t need to have a repeat of what happened our first year here.”
“But she’s been on fire lately! Believe me, I know,” Spike responded, plucking a stray pin out of the back of his scales. “You really think another few dresses is going to be that much of a problem?”
Twilight gave him a level stare. “Spike, how many shops was Rarity running when we first came to Ponyville?”
“Uh, just Carousel Boutique here. Why?”
“And how many shops is she running now?"
Spike began, “Well, still Carousel Boutique, Rarity For You in Manehattan, and Canter—” He cut himself off. “Oh. Good point.”
“Now do you see why she shouldn’t be adding another five dresses to her queue?”
“Eeyup.”
Twilight smirked. “Big Mac’s been rubbing off on you, hasn’t he?”
Shrugging, Spike answered, “Guys’ Night’s been happening a lot more often lately.”
“So long as Discord doesn’t start giving you chaos lessons.”
Spike perked up at the comment. “Hey! If Rarity’s really got that much on her hooves, maybe we could ask Discord to—”
“NO.”
“But—”
“NO.”
Spike shrugged again. “Hey, just tryin’ to help. And give my back a break.”
“Good try. But no.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“SO! FLUTTERSHY! WHAT DO YOU THINK?” Rarity held her friend rooted to the spot in front of a mannequin adorned in a new, lovely pink dress, the widest and craziest of smiles upon her muzzle. “BE HONEST! APPLEJACK LEVELS OF HONEST!” The aforementioned farmpony winced. “GIVE ME YOUR BEST CRITIQUE!”
Fluttershy glanced behind her at the rest of her friends, all of them with looks of concern on their faces, as a tear slipped down her cheek. Looking at Rarity, she answered, “It’s… umm…” She sniffled. “…f-fitting?”
“FITTING HOW? I KNOW YOU KNOW DETAILS!”
“Umm…” The tension in the room was palpable. “Well, the p-pelt around the n-neck certainly… m-makes a statement.”
“WHAT KIND OF STATEMENT?”
“Of… of a l-lot of hard w-work?”
“YES!” Rarity cried. “SUCCESS!” She released Fluttershy from her grasp, then panned around at the rest of her friends. “WHO’S NEXT? RAINBOW DASH! YOURS WAS A LITTLE HARDER THAN THE REST! THE FINISHING TOUCH WAS PARTICULARLY DIFFICULT TO OBTAIN!” She zipped into her back room, then began dragging out a mannequin that was holding a rather sleek dress topped with a saddle that had a distinctively green hue to it.
Rainbow’s eyes widened before she slammed the door open and flew out at supersonic speed. “I knew he wouldn’t get lost!”
The rest of them quickly dashed out the door to also check their respective homes, their calls all blurring together.
“WHY DID THEY NOT WANT TO SEE THEIR DRESSES?” Rarity asked Fluttershy, the crazed smile still on her face. “YOU LIKED YOURS! RIGHT?”
Fluttershy sniffled again. “I… I…” She shook her head before quickly galloping out the door crying, “Angel!”
After a bout of cackling, Rarity slowly trotted to her front door. She slammed it closed, then immediately turned around and raised her hooves in triumph. “THEY WILL ALL LOOK FABULOUS!”
“Rarity!” chimed Sweetie Belle’s voice as she cantered down the stairs. “Do you know where—” After a quick glance at her sister, Sweetie Belle raised a brow. “Are you having one of your moments again?”
Rarity simply stood at the door panting, her hooves still high in the air.
Sweetie Belle let out a sigh as she shook her head. “Yep.” She then trotted into the kitchen, calling, “Opal! Opal, where are you?”
