Always a Spring

by mushroompone

Rating: everyone
Tags: My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rarity, Slice of Life, Roseluck
Length: 2532

In the winter, there isn't much green in Ponyville.

In the winter, there isn't much green in Ponyville.

CW: Seasonal depression / Seasonal Affective Disorder

First place in a Quills and Sofas speedwriting contest with the theme "spring" and the prompt "the cold that lingers". Originally written in 75 minutes, this version has seen some editing and adjustment. Special thanks to Lofty Withers, LostInFandom, Snow Quill, NoponyPones, RedParade, Decaf, and Vis-a-Viscera for pre-reading during the contest!

Check out the fantabulous reading by Rainbow Infinity (aka TheLegendaryBillCipher) here!!

Published 2021-02-17 20:00:00 UTC
Last updated 2021-02-17 20:00:00 UTC

Always a Spring

There isn’t much for a florist to do when the world is cold and gray.

Well. That isn’t entirely true.

Roseluck was very lucky to live in a town where ponies always wanted a fresh bouquet, and she was even luckier to have a greenhouse capable of growing flowers year-round. As nice as all of that was, the winter wasn’t kind to ponies like Roseluck. And not just because she was a florist.

On this particular morning, it had just snowed. And not a measly, barely-sticking, not-much-more-than-a-dusting snow. This was the real deal; roofs were coated, sidewalks impassable, and the whole world was a glittering white.

It’s rather amazing that the world can be even brighter in the winter than it ever could in the spring. Trees filled with green, full leaves create so much more shadow, where the sun reflected so powerfully off the snow drifts.

As Roseluck gazed out the curved front window of the flower shop, she practically had to shield her eyes from that great wall of white.

She lasted barely a minute before she had to turn back to the warmth and relative darkness of the rest of her shop.

She busied herself with the arrangements. The funny thing about flowers is that, no matter how long you fuss over them, they’ll need tending to only moments later. Always wilting or flopping or dropping a petal. There were times Roseluck wished she had chosen to be a stationary salesmare, or perhaps a grocer, if only so her product would no longer have a mind of its own.

Then she thought how lonely that must be. And she didn’t mind so much.

As she gently picked over the chrysanthemums, the bell over the door tinkled gently.

“Hi, there!” Roseluck greeted her customer without looking up. “Feel free to look around, and do let me know if you need me.”

“Hello, darling,” replied the silky voice of Roseluck’s favorite customer.

Roseluck looked up, peering through the piles of flowers like a jungle cat on a hunt. “Oh! Hi, Rarity! Good to see you!”

Rarity smiled, though it was strangely weak. “It’s lovely to see you too.”

“Can I help you with anything?” Roseluck asked, trotting around the display to meet Rarity more personally. “Do you have a show coming up, or just need some inspiration?”

“Oh…” Rarity paused, looking around the shop distractedly. Her gaze seemed unfocused, choosing to skate over the colorful displays rather than examine them with that familiar, creative eye. “Just looking, I suppose.”

Roseluck shrugged. “Well, alright. Just give a holler if you change your mind.”

Rarity nodded politely and strode past Roseluck, into the depths of the artificial flowered forest.

There was something about the way she walked. Or-- no, the way she held her head. It was so subtle that Roseluck second-guessed herself, sneaking repeated glances from the opposite side of the display.

Her head was… low. Rarity normally held her head so high, had such lovely posture. And it wasn’t that she had awful posture today, of course; she only seemed not to be thinking about it. As if such a thing had slipped her mind entirely.

As if she had been trying quite hard to maintain that posture before.

Roseluck peered over the brilliant orange tulips before her, watching the back of Rarity’s head with a suspicious gaze.

Rarity wandered down the aisle at a gentle pace, enough to suggest browsing without actually doing it. Roseluck noticed that her head did not turn to look at the flowers, but merely held a steady sidelong angle. It was about as much appreciation as a train could have for the trees along the rails.

She hesitated, too. Ever so slightly. Every other step or so, Rarity paused, her hoof suspended, considering… something.

Roseluck didn’t say anything. She pulled a browning petal off the tulip in front of her.

Rarity reached the end of the aisle and stopped entirely.

She wasn’t looking at anything. Well-- perhaps she was looking at the flowers in front of her. But Roseluck had the feeling that the vibrant blue of those pansies was lost on her.

“It’s quite nice in here,” she said at last.

Roseluck could tell that wasn’t what Rarity had wanted to say. “Um… thank you.”

“You’re lucky to have such a little hideaway,” she continued, a little chuckle falling from her mouth. “There isn’t anything green in all of Ponyville in the winter.”

Roseluck returned the humorless laugh. “I guess so.”

Silence fell. Only the hum of the vents could be heard.

Roseluck spritzed the bouquet before her.

Rarity turned suddenly, looking over the display at Roseluck. “How exactly do you manage to get flowers so fresh in the dead of winter?”

The question took Roseluck by surprise. “Oh! Well, I… I have an attached greenhouse.” She forced a small laugh. “And an attached green hoof, if y’know what I mean.”

Rarity giggled politely in return. “Of course.” She waved away Roseluck’s cheeky comment, but there was an obvious fatigue in the way she flicked her hoof. “Now that I do believe Fluttershy may have mentioned it once or twice.”

Roseluck nodded. “That’s right. She has a little patch of greens in the back. For her rabbit.”

“Ah. That’s right.” Rarity nodded, and her invisible frailty was even more obvious in the way her eyes drooped towards the floor.

Another silence.

Rarity seemed stuck there a moment, hovering nervously between speech and quiet. Roseluck hardly knew her, but certainly knew well enough to keep her eyes turned down to the flowers before her, spritzing away, plucking the puckered petals.

“There aren’t many places like that in Ponyville,” Rarity continued. She took a shaky step towards Roseluck, craning her neck to see over the lilies. “Little slices of springtime. Bit like a speakeasy, don’t you think?”

Roseluck made a sound a bit like a scoff. “It’s not all that. Just a necessity of the business.”

“Yes, but… still.”

Rarity took a few more tiny steps towards the display. She pushed her snout between the lilies and the daisies, gazing down at Roseluck with a strange expression.

Roseluck looked up at the mare in the flowers and waited patiently.

“Roseluck?”

“Yes?”

“I was wondering if I might ask a little favor of you,” Rarity said, almost businesslike.

“Um…” Roseluck hooked her spray bottle into the loop on her belt. “I guess that depends what it is, doesn’t it?”

“Well, you see, I…” Rarity stopped, cleared her throat, then tried again. “I’m trying to prepare my spring fashion line.”

“Mm-hm?”

“And it’s just…” She huffed lightly and rolled her head to one side, nearly nuzzling the flower which grazed her cheek. “Well, it’s awfully difficult to find any inspiration for spring fashion out in the snow.”

Roseluck nodded. “S-sure…”

“And I was just thinking…” Rarity sniffed at the flower next to her, and a little smile crossed her face. “I was just thinking how nice it would be to sit in your greenhouse a while. Where it’s… warm. And green.”

Roseluck wasn’t sure how to respond.

It wasn’t an unreasonable request. Not in the least. And yet Rarity snuck around it so carefully, as if afraid to admit what she needed. The Rarity Ponyville knew would never shy away from making her needs known.

Despite her confusion, Roseluck shrugged. “I don’t see why not. There isn’t anywhere to sit or anything, but… sure. It’s in the back.”

Roseluck pointed at the door behind the counter.

Rarity perked up a bit. “Oh, wonderful!” She smiled, though it still seemed forced. “I’m quite thankful, dear. I’ll owe you a lovely new sunhat for your trouble.”

Roseluck shook her head. “No trouble. Really.”

“Well, even so.” Rarity retreated from the flowers, and they rustled in her wake. “I’m quite appreciative. I’m thinking of something with a nice, thick ribbon.”

And she trotted off, excusing herself into the greenhouse at the back.

The door clicked behind her, and the shop was silent once more.

Roseluck stood still for a moment, trying in vain to understand Rarity’s odd behavior. No answer came to her, and so she turned her attention to the broom against the counter and took to sweeping up the bits of leaves and petals strewn over the tile floor.

It didn’t take Roseluck long to notice that Rarity had tracked a bit of snow in with her. She made a mental note to invest in a new welcome mat--something a little more absorbent--and set to clearing away the swiftly-melting flurries.

A broom wasn’t quite the tool for the job, only leaving a cold, damp smear along the cool tile.

Roseluck sighed. There was a mop in the greenhouse, but she couldn’t interrupt Rarity’s… wherever it was.

She stood over the smear for a minute, watching as the edges crawled slowly inwards. It wasn’t like Rarity to mindlessly track snow into her store. It also wasn’t like Rarity to drag herself out of the house when she was so obviously feeling less than one-hundred percent.

Or perhaps looking less than perfect was a more apt description.

Roseluck propped the broom against the doorframe. She leaned there herself, only for a moment, watching the door of the greenhouse for any signs of Rarity. Unfortunately, Roseluck’s lack of x-ray vision made that difficult.

She ambled back behind the counter, still watching the door out of the corner of one eye, and lifted her paperback from its nook under the register. It was old, beat, and likely nearing its due date at the library. Roseluck let it fall open to her bookmarked page on the counter and tried to read.

Try as she might, Roseluck couldn’t seem to muscle her way through more than a sentence. She stared a while longer, willing the words to be a little more interesting, but came up empty.

Long ago, Roseluck had been the type to devour books in one sitting. It was hard not to measure herself up against that filly some days.

Especially the gray ones.

Frustrated, she closed the book and jammed it back under the counter.

She surveyed the flowers, all of which seemed healthy and perky. Happy little things. No more fussing necessary.

Her thoughts turned back to Rarity.

She should check on her.

Shouldn’t she?

Roseluck trotted towards the door to the greenhouse, put her hoof on the handle, and--

She hesitated.

It was an intrusion, she thought. Rarity had very politely requested the use of Roseluck’s greenhouse for work, and that was private. Even if Rarity hadn’t said so.

But… well, it was Roseluck’s greenhouse.

Maybe the flowers needed tending to.

There was always something that needed tending to.

Roseluck pushed into the greenhouse.

It took Roseluck a moment to spot Rarity. She had been craning her neck, peering over the tops of the flowers, and nearly stumbled over the limp form on the floor.

It was unexpected, and Roseluck squeaked out something like “oops” or “sorry” before she had really managed to take in the scene before her.

Rarity was laying on the floor. Like an old dog in front of a fire.

She had picked a spot of tile beneath the azaleas. The flowers drizzled over the edge of the flower bed and created a little overhang, through which the artificial UV lamps shone onto Rarity’s snow-white fur. It wasn’t unlike the dappled sunlight underneath a willow tree. The rush of the heat from the vent tousled her mane like a spring breeze, and must have drowned out all but Roseluck’s squeal of surprise.

She jolted upright, of course, equal parts confused and embarrassed

Roseluck had expected her to be crying, but she wasn’t. Her face was rather blank, in fact-- when the shock faded, nothing came in to replace it at all. If anything, perhaps there was a twinge of disappointment in the crinkle on her brow.

“I’m sorry,” Rarity said.

“Don’t-- I mean, I--” Roseluck shook her head. “Are you alright?”

Rarity made a light and airy sound, too delicate to be called a sigh. “As much as I ever am during the winter,” she said simply. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“I’m not--” Roseluck stopped. “Well. I am worried. But there’s no need to apologise.”

Rarity nodded.

She was slow. That’s what it was. Rarity was normally so full of energy-- not bubbling, like Pinkie. And not electric, like Rainbow Dash. No, it was more of a sparkle. The sort of glimmer you catch in someone’s eye when they have a brilliant idea.

Only her eyes weren’t sparkling. None of her was.

In fact, compared to the mounds of snow outside, even her coat seemed dull.

“You too, huh?” Roseluck said simply. She cast a half-smirk down at Rarity, one which was similarly devoid of emotion.

Rarity blinked. “I don’t understand.”

“Winter.” Roseluck scoffed. “Short days. Dark days. Cold and snow. It’s… it feels like it’ll never go away sometimes.”

Rarity looked down at the floor. “It’s nothing, really.”

Roseluck said nothing. She came to Rarity’s side and sat, leaning against her, under the azaleas. Rarity seemed taken aback, but was stunned out of words.

“You’re right,” Roseluck said. “I’m lucky to have this place. The cold can’t reach me back here, y’know?”

Rarity hesitated, but nodded.

“It’s not nothing,” Roseluck said. “It’s something.”

“It feels so silly,” Rarity said, trying to laugh it off. “Everypony wishes for spring in the dead of winter.”

“It’s not the same.”

Rarity drew in a deep breath, then let it out slowly. “Yes. I know.”

“And it’s not silly.”

Rarity made a small whimper.

“It’s not,” Roseluck said firmly. “It’s really not.”

Rarity didn’t make a sound.

The sound was different back here. Silence in the shop was a long hum, but silence in the greenhouse was more of a buzzing thing. In that way, it even sounded like spring-- an insectine thrum, or the hiss of a warm wind, or perhaps the warning yell of a bird.

Still artificial, though.

“Does the cold…” Rarity second-guessed herself, and the sentence fell away there.

Roseluck nudged the mare beside her. “Yeah?”

Rarity huffed lightly. “Does the cold ever… linger? For you?”

Roseluck considered the question carefully. “Um… in here?”

“In here.” Rarity nodded towards the door. “Out there.”

Roseluck thought about that. She thought about the way she fussed over her flowers, over her friends-- over everything, in fact. The way that, some days, she could hardly bring herself to read a word of her favorite book. The way that she could sometimes fall into robotic routine and lose hours without a real thought in her head.

She thought about how even the sunniest summer days could be grayer than the doldrums of winter.

Roseluck bit her lip. “Sometimes.”

Rarity looked down at the floor. A lock of her mane slipped out from behind her ear and dropped towards the floor.

“You know what, though?” Roseluck asked softly.

Rarity looked up.

“Spring is just around the corner.”

Rarity chuckled. She leaned hard into Roseluck, and she found that she was warm.

It may not have been sunlight, but it certainly wasn’t artificial.