Taking clothes for granite
Edith fought the urge to bury her head under her wing as the white one continued yelling at her. She knew a smattering of Ponish commands (stay, come, retrieve, and of course petrify), but the white one was talking too fast and loud for her to keep up. After what felt like minutes though, the pony seemed to settle down. Or maybe she just ran out of energy. Either way, she had slumped to her haunches and sighed in defeat.
Edith glanced at the thing the white one had brought her out here to look at. It was a.... a.... Edith chirruped in frustration with herself.
A statue. That was it. A thing that looked like a petrified creature, but in reality was just a rock cut to look like something petrified. Edith had magic eyes like all creatures of her kind. Eyes that could see though minerals and tell which had souls inside and which didn't. And this statue that the white one was staring longingly at definitely didn't have a soul inside. So why had Silverstream loaned Edith out for the day? What did the white one want her to do? The white one was good at yelling when Edith did something wrong, which meant by process of elimination Edith could probably figure out her task eventually. But there had to be a better way. The two of them had to find a method to communicate.
Edith flapped over and perched on top of the statue, squawking as she landed to get the white one's attention. The white one looked up at her blankly. Unsure how to proceed, Edith performed a few test pecks on the statue's head. Cockatrice beaks were stone-splitting tools. Perhaps Edith's task was to crack open the statue so the pony could get at something important inside?
Apparently not, as the white one immediately began yelling again. She even stomped and conjured a bright blue barrier where Edith had pecked, frightening the cockatrice so badly she lost her balance.
Flailing, Edith gripped a talon on one of the many pieces of fabric draped over the statue, but the material was incredibly thin and simply tore right through as she fell to the dirt in a heap.
Edith shook herself off as the white one rushed past to study the damage. Edith braced herself for another incomprehensible barrage of horse sounds, but to her surprise the white one simply cradled the torn fabric between two hooves, looking so sad Edith’s avian heart ached.
Bad birdie. That was another phrase Edith knew. It was one Silverstream shouted whenever she caught Edith rooting around in the wastebasket for scraps or polishing her scales on the furniture. Edith dug her talons into the dirt beneath her in frustration. Some days she felt like being a bad birdie, but not today. She wanted very much to please the white one. To be petted and preened and spoken to nicely instead of yelled at. But how?
Edith continued scratching her talons in the dirt, but slowed when she saw what the white one was doing. The white one was still examining the torn fabric with one of its hooves, but the other was pawing the ground nervously, just like Edith. Some reptilian instinct kicked into a hopeful and creative overdrive as Edith squawked excitedly to get the white one’s attention one more time. Bleary, the white one turned in Edith’s direction just in time to see the drawing in the dusty forest floor. It was a crude but recognizable outline of a cockatrice followed by a clumsy “?”.
The white one gasped and stooped down, whinnying excitedly. Edith had to cluck several times to get the white one settled again, repeatedly pointing at the drawing. Hopefully the message was clear; “what do you want me to do?”
The white one thankfully seemed to finally understand, sweeping her own hoof to erase Edith’s self-portrait before tracing lines in the dirt with her hoof. Edith sat patiently as the white one frowned, cleared away a half finished diagram, then began again. Very cautiously, she regarded Edith.
Edith chirped in surprise as she felt a contour feather yoink itself free and hover away in an aura of blue. The white one immediately got to work, looking much more at ease to be working with a finepoint quill than with a wide, clumsy hoof. Before long, Edith was given a nod to look over the pictographic instructions.
The first diagram was of the statue, draped in all its fabric. Beside was a recognizable image of Edith loosing her mighty petrification gaze at it. Edith glanced at the statue itself, but the white one cleared its throat politely and tapped the last drawing for Edith to study. Edith obeyed, remiges ruffled with excitement at her being so close to understanding what she needed to do.
The final diagram was the statue stripped of its materials with a big “X” drawn over it. Edith deduced that the blobs beside it were the materials themselves, surrounded by a circle and a large check mark.
Edith strained to comprehend her task. Petrify the statue. Except not the statue. Only the cloth on top of it. Was that it? Edith had never petrified anything nonliving before. Then again, she’d never tried. And hey, how about that… that… (oh come on, Edith, you know this one) that blanket Silverstream got last Hearthswarming? It was made of real fur from the stompy one’s freshly cut mop. Edith loved blankets and would never dream of petrifying one, but her gut told her she’d succeed if she tried. It also told her that she’d succeed petrifying the material draped over the statue.
Chirping with resolve, Edith flapped over to a good position in front of the statue. The white one made what Edith understood was a smile and backed up to a safe distance. For a moment the forest was quiet. Then a heavy hum emanated from Edith’s pharynx as her eyes reddened with magic. She swept her gaze over the target gently as a hen grooming a chick, hardening the fabric til it had the color and weight of a lovingly decorated eggshell. The white one was whinnying in approval and Edith glanced back excitedly. Unfortunately, her gaze was still active and the white one ossified immediately, dumb grin literally plastered on her frozen face.
Edith crowed in alarm at the realization that she’d been a bad birdie again, and was in the air pointed in the direction of Silverstream’s place before her thoughts caught up to her. Petrifying a pony was definitely bad, but leaving a pony like that was much worse. Edith shuddered to think what the white one’s wrath would be, but still she swooped back down to undo her mistake.
Rarity blinked a few times, then shrugged off her weird temporary daze before bounding over to her mannequin with glee. “Fossilized fashion!” she declared, wrapping the shawl around her barrel (it was light! It was so light, just like she’d predicted!) and adorning her head with the formerly straw but still soft hat. She was beyond caring about the hairline tear in the shawl from earlier.
Malleable stone clothing was an impossible ensemble she’d dreamed up late last night in a sleep-deprived and sugar fueled frenzy, and now here it was on her own body. An outfit that was chic but rugged. Dainty but sturdy. Wholly novel but wonderfully blue-collar, and she had Silverstream to thank. Scratch that; she had Silverstream’s pet cockatrice to thank.
“You!” Rarity exclaimed as she pivoted on her pasterns. The cockatrice flinched as she scooped it up in her hooves, but relaxed as she stroked its stomach and cooed approvingly. “Who’s the best helper in Equestria? You are. Yes you are.” The cockatrice snaked around her neck like a scaly feather boa, nuzzling its wearer in contentment. “Ahh magnifique,” Rarity sighed as she imagined how striking she looked adorned in her granite and reptilian accessories. Why keep imagining, though? Best head back to town and get a look at her reflection proper. Maybe get a few ideas on how to market the outfit for next season’s in-crowd. After all, minimalist ensembles were quite popular among hardworking tradesponies. There was one in particular whom Rarity knew was a good judge of rocks.
The cockatrice shifted comfortably, bringing Rarity out of feverish fantasy and back to the practical present.
“We’ve done excellent work today, dearie. Think we’ll turn heads on our way back to Silverstream’s place? One can only hope. And I can scarcely wait to show Maud Pie the fruits of our efforts!”
With a click of her fetlocks, Rarity was off, mannequin and animal assistant in tow.
Author's Note
Snippets are back for a second season, e’erybody! Started with a simple scene to restablish things. More complex entries will come. Stay tuned for the two remaining installments in the Fusion Trilogy started by Cover To Cover.
Gonna aim for uploads every other Thursday this year. We’ll see how well I can do.
