Fabulosity in Fact

It’s dark by the time the train pulls into Ponyville station. The ride was quiet enough, with only a few passengers taking the train with you at such an hour. As you step onto the platform, you consult the station’s map to find the nearest hotel.

Ooh, the Hay n’ Stay. A pleasant enough hotel, and you’re not exactly going to run out of money any time soon, so you can stay for as long as you need.

Within ten minutes, you’re checking in for the night. A bland, average room, with function over form being the driving force behind it. Plain bed, plain bathroom, plain walls, plai- oh my Luna, it has tea and coffee making facilities! This room is perfect!

You pop the kettle on while you unpack your things. There isn’t much to unpack, since you only brought along a bag or three… Wait, where’s the third bag? The one with your best clothes in!? You can’t walk around Ponyville naked! How would the townsfolk react!?

Your hoof slaps your head out of exasperation when you realise you left it on the train! The whole rush to pack your bags and leave Canterlot had left you absent-minded. It seems you’ll have to splash out on some new clothes while you’re here.

Whatever. You have tea and coffee making facilities. Everything’s gonna be alright.

*******

The mid-morning sun wakes you up to your new life (or rather, holiday until the news fiasco blows over), and you make for the nearest clothing shop in town. That is, the only clothing shop in town. You forgot how small Ponyville is.

As you head towards the Carousel Boutique, a shop that looked like a cross between a carousel ride and… a boutique, you turn your head towards the city of Canterlot in the distance, miles above the ground, standing proudly from the top of its mountain. Your name must be on the tip of everypony’s tongue right now. And not in the good way.

With a sigh, you push open the door and enter the shop. Maybe garbing yourself in some of the latest fashions would cheer you up.

The whole boutique is adorned with ribbons, mirrors and mannequins, each of them wearing a dress or suit. Some mannequins in the centre of the room wore highly fashionable garments designed to bring attention to customers, while a few in the corner seemed to be there for the sake of experimentation for the owner.

The owner in question is in her own little world, fixated on a mannequin in the corner, trying out various fabrics and cloths on it. A mare in the zone, as you’d recognise, especially since she still hasn’t perceived you yet.

Of course, you aren’t complaining; she hasn’t noticed your presence because she’s facing away from you, and you’re quite alright with that.

When you feel you’ve admired the scenery enough, you give a gentle cough to let her know you’re there. She whips around, her expression changing from surprised to welcoming.

“Oh, a customer!” she exclaims in her refined accent. Her azure eyes, hidden behind her stylish red-rimmed glasses, light up as she greets you, “And such a strapping gentlecolt too!”

She’s flirtatious! Brilliant!

“Nice to meet you, Miss, erm…”

“Rarity. Miss Rarity.”

“A lovely name,” you smile, “I was wondering if you had any clothes my size, Miss Rarity. You see, I just came from Canterlot, and I realised I’d left most of my clothes on the train coming here. Call it an idiot moment.”

“Oh, don’t be so hard on yourself, darling,” the white unicorn chimes, “These things happen to the best of us. So, you said you came from Canterlot, Mister, uh…”

You tell her your name. She hesitates for a moment, as if trying to remember something she’d previously forgotten.

“I think… I know you from somewhere.” she says slowly, “Your name certainly rings a bell. Have we met before?”

Your mind flicks through all of your previous encounters with white unicorns (which, in Canterlot, is surprisingly ample). Nope, you don’t remember any Rarity. Not in business nor pleasure.

“It’ll come to me soon enough, don’t you worry,” she brushes off her suspicions, “In the meantime, I have a selection of suits for you to try on, maybe even a few casual clothes for when you’re out and about in Ponyville. Hah, I’d wager seeing all of us ponies wandering around without attire must have been a culture shock to you, sir.”

Since she’s just drawn attention to that fact, you can’t help but… assess her features. “Don’t worry, Miss Rarity, it’s a very welcome culture shock.”

“How cheeky,” she giggles, “With an attitude like that, you must be getting yourself into all sorts of… trouble… back in Canterlot…” she trails off, her mind raising red flags in her head as it occurs to her exactly who you are. “Excuse me for a moment.”

Before you can say a word, she vanishes into another room, leaving you wondering exactly what she’s- oh no.

Your eyes catch a pile of magazines stacked in the corner of the shop, intended for customers to read while they wait to fill in their orders. Some of those magazines were your own works. The Canterlot Columns. Others were the Posh Ponies Periodical.

Rarity must get those magazines on order from Canterlot. But if she has them on order, that means she’s read…

“I knew I recognised you from somewhere.” her voice breaking the awkward silence makes you jump out of your coat. You turn around to find her with the latest copy of Posh Ponies Periodical floating in her blue magic aura. “This… this is you, isn’t it?”

She knows.

“Well, it’s been fun meeting you, but I really must be off now, ta-ta!”

With that final, parting phrase, you turn on your hooves and gallop out of the shop, ignoring her cries of “Wait!” and “Come back!”. You can’t stay here. You need to take another train. Somewhere further than Ponyville.