In ancient times, man would carve offerings of stone, gold, wood, or whatever they found of value to show devotion to their Gods. It was common for worshipers to mark their flesh with symbols to the ones they had sworn themselves to, or to perhaps adorn their attire or places of rest with trinkets to their patron. These trinkets, fetishes, garments were called idols; objects of worship for one reason or another.
Today, the modern man has turned the subject of an idol to someone of great importance.
An actress, a songstress, a hero; perhaps a model.
This is what the ideal of an idol has become throughout the torrents of time.
And this--an idol--is what Twilight Sparkle sees. A truly wonderous person in all their regards; untouchable in any way fathomable. Trendy, poised, so assured. If only she could aspire to be the same. If only.
Look at her...
Chatter dampened out moment by moment into a dull thrumming just beneath the surface of a wandering mind as a young Twilight trailed her attention off. Certainly Rarity's latest wardrobe snafu was as riveting as the last if Applejack's distant snort was any indication; but even as she sat not a foot away, her mind was anywhere but. In truth, her expansive mind home to a wealth of knowledge that would put most teens her age into a coma focused in where it had always found itself when she made her presence known.
Basking in the glow...
There were a million skylights in the mall---or exactly one-thousand six-hundred and thirty-two glass panels if someone ever counting them, not like Twilight did---that shown the warmth of the outside down on everyone. It was not exclusive to anyone in any way; but somehow Fleur de Lis was standing in just the right spot, beneath just the right panel, in just the right way that it seemed the entire mall and all of its patrons were scene dressing for the high-schooler's very own photoshoot. The world itself seemed to just conform around her as she just... stood there wholly unaware of how masterful she truly was in commanding the room--the world. Some people had all the luck.
You resplendent diva...
"Diva". Now there was a word twisted away from how Twilight truly felt gazing upon the subject of her idolization. Fleur was many things; a minx if the every jilted sports star Crystal Prep had could be believed, a drama queen given the number of costume changes she demands even in her breakout performances as "Streetsweeper Number Three", and even a charitable soul after she donated her entire Winter collection to those unfortunate children in the Summer. But, no. Those things couldn't do her justice. A diva. That was it; a goddess in man's given form. Too much of an icon that Crystal Prep VERY MUCH didn't deserve. Nobody did, honestly. Born in the wrong century.
What I wouldn't do for you to notice me...
Notice me properly would be more apt. Sure enough, Fleur had always noticed Twilight one way or another. A chilling glare from the corner of her eye, the very clear elbow-to-rib 'bump' in the hall, those two separate times Fleur came at her kneecaps with a croquet mallet. All of them poignant moments of being noticed... Some more than others. She never understood why exactly Fleur treated her in such a way. Looking at her now, basking in the glory of the sun, framed by the oddly-now picturesque backdrop of the mall fountain, Twilight only saw the fashion idol of Crystal Prep standing alone. Glamourous, fabulous, stunning, masterful and artful in just standing there without anybody's aid.
Now, some would argue that Fleur de Lis was no fashion idol. And when you could compare her to the likes of Rarity, who had a new design to wow the populous as often as the wind blew through an empty street, it would be a fair assertion. Even Twilight would be conflicted in comparing the two; it would be like the alluring night and the blinding day. How could you decide? Well, Twilight saw things a little different than everyone else in that regard. On the surface, Rarity was a fashion forward thinker and set the pace for everyone to follow; that was her to a tee. Fleur however... much like how the world refracted around her in that moment framed by both a murky fountain and a dusty skylight, she made her own opulence simply being herself. Nobody had to follow, and very few ever did. They just looked upon her and wept... Because she always had that special something that couldn't be replicated--couldn't be taught even if she deigned to impart her wisdom upon you.
At least, that's how Twilight had always seen in. Ever since the day they met casually in the halls of Crystal Prep, Twilight had been mystified by this upper-classmen. She held herself with such pride in and out of class without any desires to compromise for anyone; even that time when she had been hair flipping into Upper Crust's face for an entire period. They ordered her to stop, but she just kept going with the ferocity of an industrial fan. It was bold! It was brazen! It was everything Twilight wasn't. It silently irked her ever since she laid eyes on Fleur. How can someone be so... perfect?
Perfect skin. Perfect hair. Perfect makeup. Perfect posture. Perfect self-esteem. Nothing shook Fleur in the slightest! How does someone develop both nerves of steel and a winning personality? Not that Twilight had much headway into either the way she saw it. Maybe that was why Fleur hated her so much. She could smell Twilight's fear, maybe see her sweat, who knows? Maybe that weakness makes Fleur want to knock Twilight down--literally and figuratively--so she'll pick herself up. Maybe it was all an attempt to make her a better person. Or maybe Fleur just didn't like her; who's really to say?
Oh no, I think someone asked me something...
The thrum of the conversation tapped back to attention in the growing moment of clarity as Twilight's transfixed attention returned to her other reality. Thankfully the motion of an excuse to adjust her glasses was enough to offset anyone possibly asking if she was paying attention. Any other day, she would have been transcribing the whole thing into the vast library of her mind. But, it wasn't every day she saw her idol. A sheepish snort of a laugh put the conversation back on track coupled with a handwave of an answer; "oh, you know, how would you put it, Sunset?". Smooth like fresh churned butter and Sunset took the conversation, leading the discussion into something about beans and how you could realistically mold them into anything these days. To her effort, Twilight hung into the conversation for as long as she could. Up until she felt something familiar...
Like tiny invisible daggers far too metaphysical to do lasting damage to her, but all too icy in their purpose... The world seemed to drown out once more, fading into distant thrums and listless blotches drifting through the world... Leaving only the two of them. In that solitary moment, Twilight turned to look back at her idol, now glaring at her with familiar deathly intent. In that moment of distant worlds and empty faces, Twilight mouthed a simple question from across the mall. Maybe Fleur wasn't a master of reading lips... but the sharp recognition in the other girl's eyes was all Twilight needed to know her message came through; and Fleur did not like it at all.
Why?!
"Fleur! Look! I took your advice!"
"...You... Certainly did..."
"Oh, wow! Look at us. We're matching."
"Yyyyyyyyeah… I gotta go... Be anywhere but here."
"Huh. That was strange... Oh, Sugarcoat, what do you think?"
"I think neither you nor Fleur actually listen to me and just want validation to your acts of blissful hubris."
"I suppose I can talk to Fleur about it later. Maybe get some more advice."
Alas, that advice never came. For on that day, two pacts were made alongside one another, but in complete opposition. A pact of fury for a spotlight stolen, and a pact of hope for a budding understanding. An understanding was indeed founded, there was no doubt about that, one that Twilight Sparkle with her great wisdom still has yet to grasp...
You just don't jack another girl's fashion statement before they debut it.
I idolize you, Fleur de Lis.
