We Have No Mouths, and We Must Confess

Act 2 Part 3

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“Rarity?” Twilight’s call echoed through the emptiness of Carousel Boutique. “Rarity!”

Deeply disappointed, she almost prepared to leave the atelier, when a curly mane appeared from around the corner, followed by a scrutinizing gaze from emerald eyes.

“Oh, hello, Twilight.” Upon recognizing the guest—intruder, really—the filly fully revealed herself, and her expression changed to that of curiosity. “She isn’t home, I’m afraid.”

“Hi, Sweetie.” Twilight tried her best at producing a genuine smile, without much success. “Do you know where she went?”

The little unicorn took her time coming up with a reply, scrunching her muzzle in concentration, “I think she mentioned something about meeting Fluttershy, but I’m not sure.” Her eyes went wide. “Is it an emergency? Are we being attacked!?”

“Goodness, no.”

There was a sharp sense of déjà vu when Twilight momentarily wished it was the case. An emergency would be better than… this.

“Would you mind staying for tea then?” Rarity’s sister broke her out of the reverie; as no immediate answer followed, she pouted, staring Twilight directly into her soul with the utmost pleading eyes ready to shed tears.

A fierce internal battle lasted for a bit, and ultimately Twilight was able to look away.

“Sorry, Sweetie Belle, but I’m not in the mood now.”

Partially true, aided by an unsaid observation—the last two times Twilight accepted such an offer, she ended up having unpleasant revelations. Having one more right now was the last thing she needed.

“You don’t mind if I wait for Rarity here?”

Not waiting for confirmation, Twilight sat heavily on the floor, pressing her back against a shelf housing fabrics rolls. A sigh escaped her lips—as much as an exhale forced by the collision as the expression of her frustration.

She wasn’t angry with Rarity; that mare had no obligation to always be in reach. It was Starlight’s conviction that bothered her the most of all things—she simply didn’t understand how precarious the entire situation was; being a princess didn’t make it easy, there was little freedom to afford.

Twilight had done what had to be done.

Except, her eyes still burned with recent tears—she could only hope Sweetie Belle wouldn’t notice.

“Something happened, didn’t it?”

The question took Twilight by surprise—she didn’t expect the filly to stay—so she missed its meaning.

“Hmm?”

“You look worried and very sad.”

“Ah, well…” What was the harm in talking about it with a little filly? Twilight had already rejected her invitation, ignoring her genuine care was uncalled for. “I said some things I shouldn’t have said.”

“Why would you do that?”

“I thought I was doing the right thing.”

Twilight hoped the conversation would awkwardly die there, however, she underestimated Sweetie Belle.

“If it wasn’t the right thing, then what was?”

If Twilight knew, she wouldn’t be here.

“I don’t know.”

Sweetie Belle didn’t get the hint, she even giggled as she said, “Strange to hear that from a princess.”

“Princesses don’t know everything,” she snapped and instantly felt a pang of regret when the filly hung her head, ears drooping.

Before Twilight could say anything, she muttered, “Sorry.”

Then there was awkward silence Twilight wanted not so long ago, yet she wasn’t happy to bear it. Fortunately for her, the filly recovered quickly.

“It’s just… you wouldn’t become a Princess if you didn’t know what to do, right?”

Twilight would have argued with that statement a lot. Instead, she agreed, “No.” Sweetie Belle gave her an expectant look and she had to explain herself, “But this time I am really at a loss of what my next step should be. And whether there should be a step at all…”

“How did you solve your problems before?”

Twilight didn’t have to think long for the answer, “I always had my friends with me.”

“From what Rarity told me, that’s not true. Like when Discord did his... thing... on them. What did you do back then?”

This time, it took her a few moments.

“I… I followed my heart.”

“And what does your heart tell you now?”

Twilight froze, then abruptly stood up, heading for the exit.

“I made a terrible mistake.”

The message was clear—whatever was happening in Twilight’s head, despite her reassurances of the opposite, Starlight was no longer welcome in the Castle of Friendship. So, she despondently dragged her hooves as she wandered Ponyville.

The problem was that while her stay in the castle was terminated, she doubted it allowed her to leave its premises as well. Elsewise, she would join Trixie the next time the magician happened to visit, or even follow her in hopes of catching up with the tour.

With the sun set, any chance to find a place to stay, having not a single bit in her possession, save for the heavy baggage of her past, was approaching zero, if it wasn’t there already. A tear rolled down her cheek, then another, following fresh trails. It wasn’t the prospect of a freezing night spent outside or the gnawing hunger preparing to settle in that was breaking her heart.

It wouldn’t be the first time.

All the struggle, the hope building up, the mirage of success—and she came to the place where she started her adult life. She wouldn’t follow it further again, nopony would give her a third chance. So where did that leave her? Was the life of a homeless outcast all she would ever have?

The sobs she tried to conceal choked her—the young moon would hide her tears, but not the sniffling. However, her effort proved inefficient, when a very concerned pony appeared from the darkness, barring the way.

“Starlight!” Rarity rushed to her and she cringed away. “Starlight, what happened?”

“Nothing. I should be going.”

She tried to walk around the alabaster unicorn but wasn’t allowed to.

“It’s about Twilight, isn’t it?”

Starlight turned in the opposite direction only to be followed with a surprising speed. She glowered at Rarity stubbornly taking a stand and meeting her baleful gaze unflinchingly. In that very moment, Starlight’s stomach decided to embarrass her with a loud reminder of its prolonged emptiness.

Before she could even blush, Rarity hooked her under hoof and dragged her across the street.

“That settles it. I’ll treat you with a meal and you tell me what it is about.”

A plate with a casserole steamed in front of Starlight, making her mouth water. Yet she hesitated to touch it, for there was a price she didn’t want to pay—she wouldn't go away with her stomach full without sharing the source of her grief.

As if to remind her about the unspoken deal, Rarity quietly, but in an impatient tone, asked, “So, what happened?”

“I don’t know.”

“That is not very helpful, darling.”

Starlight was able to tear her gaze away from the plate and was met with a scowl.

“I actually don’t know.” Her indignation was short-lived—she continued in a hollow voice, “Everything seemed to be alright. Then after returning from Canterlot she practically forbade me from staying at the castle unless I can’t help it.”

“She what!?” Rarity’s yell caused a few heads to turn in their direction.

“I am just as confused. I thought she…” Starlight’s eyes fell back on the meal—it no longer looked appetizing. “Never mind.”

“Darling,” Rarity spoke very softly, almost whispering, “she came by me yesterday. I know.”

Starlight stared at her, wide-eyed.

“D-did she confess it to you?”

“No.”

Starlight visibly deflated, tears welling in her eyes, and Rarity hurried to explain:

“Unfortunately, Twilight never was a subtle pony.” She rubbed her chin, almost purposely oblivious to Starlight’s face lighting up. Finally, she smiled. “Well, I guess it proved fortunate for once.” The grin faltered a bit, though, when she added, “On the other hoof I am not sure I like being tangled up in all this.”

Starlight’s expression fell as well, becoming as dark as it had been moments before, if not worse. Her eyes returned to lifelessly studying the casserole.

“I am not sure there’s anything left to be tangled in,” she muttered.

“Hmm, I wouldn’t give up so quickly.” Rarity paused, squinting at Starlight with what almost seemed like menace. “Unless you want to. Do you?”

“I... don’t know.” She flinched as the seamstress shot her a very disappointed glance. “I don’t know what to think, what to do. It’s all too confusing.”

Rarity’s expression relaxed, becoming almost tired, and she let out a sigh.

“You should start with finishing your meal before it goes cold.”

“Thank you, Rarity.”

She dug into her plate with gusto—Rarity certainly knew what she was ordering. Feeling like more gratitude was in order, she swallowed another mouthful and added, “I know you are all about generosity, but I still didn’t expect you to do that for me.”

Rarity’s eyebrows went up. “Why wouldn’t I, darling?”

“Because of the things I did.” The food suddenly tasted like ashes in her mouth and she had to force herself to continue. “I suspect it is a big part why Twilight is acting like that.”

“Starlight…” she almost groaned.

She went on, food forgotten, fork fallen from her magical grasp, “I still don’t know for sure if she tried to keep Trixie and me apart because it would be a bad influence on me and I would relapse, or because she was protective… or jealous.”

Rarity put her hoof on Starlight’s and she stopped rambling.

“The problem is that I don't think even Twilight knows.” A mirthless smile appeared on her muzzle. “You two are a perfect mess.”

Starlight looked at her with pleading eyes.

“Could you help me, please?”

Another sigh, no less tired, escaped Rarity’s lips. “No more than I helped Twilight, which is exactly as much help as should be given.Take your time to reflect on yourself.”

With her head tilted Starlight awaited for continuation; when it didn’t come, she uttered, unable to hide the lack of enthusiasm in her voice, “Thank you, Rarity.”

The seamstress watched as she returned to her meal, regarding the distraught mare with a thoughtful look for a while. Although the casserole no longer was eaten as fast, she still waited patiently until it remained no more. Then she finally commented:

“I know it’s not what you expected, but I’m afraid involving myself any further in your problems will make it even worse. However, I might have something else to offer.”

Starlight’s head shot up from the plate she was busy poking with the fork, hopeful expression instantly overtaking her features.

“I doubt it would be wise for you to confront Twilight so soon.”

Rarity’s words reflected with impatience of Starlight’s muzzle before their meaning caught up with her.

“I… don’t want to see her right now,” she muttered despondently.

“So, why don’t you stay at Carousel Boutique for a while? I could always use the assistance of a skilful unicorn.”