A Mare Called Rarity
Hello Miss Rarity
As you may know, the Grand Galloping gala is coming up and as the queen of pop, I'm of course invited to perform, right after that dreary classical ensemble they insist on inviting every year, and I need to look fabulous.
I'm going to perform songs form my latest album, “West of Equestria”, my first country album. So I'm going to need something with a country-western theme to match. The dress needs to include a silver rope-tie studded with my name-sake gem, matching spurred boot and an underskirt lined with genuine Tamarack lace.
I've talked to several of my go-to designers about it, but none have been willing to take on the assignment. They said that it's nearly impossible to convince Tamarack to allow anypony to use her trademark design of lace. But you've never failed me before and I trust that if anypony can create this outfit exactly the way I want it, it's you. As for payment, name any sum you'd like, I'm more than willing to make it worth your while.
Yours Truly
Sapphire Shores
by Owlor
A Tale from the Fashion Frontier
The steam engine pushed the train forward with unnervingly regular motions. In between anxiety attacks were she wanted to claw out the back of the train, Rarity double-checked her arsenal. She had several rolls of her finest fabric, her entire sewing kit and a fabulous purple hat with a brim shaped like a heart. The hat was perhaps most important.
Opalescence was fast asleep in her carrier, making a slightly demonic sound from the back of her throat. Outside the window, trees gave way to open plains and eventually to an outright desert. A dead wind howled across the waste, shaping the sand dunes with its rage.
Every aspect of it, from the strange orange sand to the green cacti that looked so out of place in this ocean of warm colours, served to remind her just how far out of her element she was in this place. Chocking down another anxiety attack, she forced her eyes shut and let drowsiness was over her.
Rarity was woken up by the train whistle. It took her a while to get her bearings, and some of the self-doubt she had suppressed bubbled up onto the surface when she realized where she was and what she was doing.
“Stitchtown! The conductor announced. Last stop!”
“Well, too late to back out now,” Rarity thought.
The dirt felt so odd under her hooves; warm and loose, not entirely unlike something you'd find on a beach. The sun deficiently reinforced that impression, shining down on everypony with remorseless glee. She felt extremely grateful for the hat as she strolled confidently along the main street.
Around her, well-groomed cowboys and cowgirls eyed each other with suspicion, each waiting for the others to start a fight. The chilly social atmosphere contrasted with the delightfully quaint architecture. The buildings had a self-aware kitsch to them, as tough made by someone with excellent taste who delighted in how campy they could make the surroundings. Purple, topaz and faded yellow dominated the façades, making the town seem more like a child’s play set than an actual place of residence.
It wasn't until she saw this town that Rarity realized how shabby Ponyville looked. They've had quite a problem with old buildings decaying and falling apart recently, and there simply wasn't enough money in the town's budget to do anything about it.
Moreover, it was kind of an open secret that the mayor had... well, “stopped caring” would make it sound too callous. More like “fallen into a deep dark hole of despair at the futility of her job.” Last time Rarity heard anything about it, the mayor had locked herself into the office with a bottle of Buck Daniel's and refused to come out.
Rarity got a lot of suspicious eyes directed at her, her style of stitching and choice of colours marked her as a stranger, in spite of her best attempts to fit in. She passed by a group of young mares who was standing around looking like they were itching for a fight. Time seemed so slow as she passed by under their questioning gazes, trying to avoid eye contact.
“You're a long was from home partner,” one of the mares said from the side of the street.
She was slightly older than the rest and she wore a daring outfit made out of chaps and a hat decorated with fruit concealing a stubby unicorn horn. The rest of the gang seemed like weak copies of her, trying to use the same mismatched style but couldn’t quite reach the same level of shock value.
“So?” Rarity snapped back to her.
“This town ain’t exactly kind to strangers if you know what I mean,” the young mare replied with a cold voice. Rarity put on an air of superiority and dismissed this with an elegant whip of her mane.
“Trust me I wouldn't set a hoof in your shabby town if I could help it, but I got business here,” she said.
“Oh?
“I am looking for something, you see.The Tamarack lace.”
The mare and her friends burst out in obviously forced laughter. Rarity ground her teeth together and used all of her mental strength to keep her temper. The young mare interrupted the laughter long enough to tell her:
“Listen partner, you may think you're a hotshot just 'cus you can pick up a needle, but Tamarack doesn’t just let anyone use her design. You're going to have to prove yourself to her. Translation, you're dead, partner! Nice knowing you.”
The laughter woke up Opalescence and the cats demonic hiss was enough to catch the attention of the gang of fashionable thugs. Rarity’s eyes turned into narrow slits as she gazed right into the soul of their leader.
“I don't think it's particularly nice of you to laugh like this,” she said and the gang fell silent just to see where she was going with this. “For y'see my dear Opalescence here, she might get it into her head that you're laughing at her, and she doesn't like that. So go on, apologize to the nice kitty.”
“Are you retarded or somethin'?” The mare asked. “You want some of this?” She spat the words out and gestured to the sewing kit that was dangling from her hip.
“Try me,” Rarity said simply. Inside a little part of her mind was screaming at her to run away, but the vast majority of her, the part that had all the sense and impulse control, vetoed the idea. She knew enough about these parts to know what sort of rules they played by here.
“Cross Stitch, you'll be the model,” the mare with the chaps demanded and the comparatively demure brown pony nodded obediently before freeing in place. The pony with crotchless chaps whipped out the sewing kit with a nonchalant motion. Then her horn started glowing green as she levitated a whole pile of fabrics out of a gang member's saddle back.
The chapped mare turned herself into a tornado of thread, fabric and creativity, kicking up a dust cloud as she worked. When Cross Stitch stepped out of the dust cloud, she was wearing a pinstriped vest with a silver chain and a hat with a large feather in it.
Her gang stomped their hooves in wild appreciation and Rarity struggled not to show any emotions that could imply weakness. The design had the classic Stitchtown flair, self-consciously retro elements combined in a way that somehow still felt thoroughly modern.
It was a hard number to beat, but Rarity approached the model with steely confidence. The bags of fabrics trailed behind her along with Opalescence's cage, much to the cats bemusement.
“Good show," she admitted. "But now it's my turn!”
Rarity started sewing. Her motions was more controlled than that of her rival fashion designer, less because of superior skill and more just a difference in approach, rather than going from a sketchy storm to a gradually more polished final product, she started out in one end an planned out each detail neatly. As such, it took slightly longer than her rival, and she didn't have the benefit of a surprise introduction. But it didn't seem to matter much as the gang was gazing over to her with increasing awe.
Slowly building up in front of them was a lovely cabaret dress with black lace glistening softly in the sun and net stockings that contrasted nicely with the enormous fuzzy plume that rested proudly on top of a miniature headgear.
Rarity's design had influences not only from the high fashion of Canterlot, but also from the post modern street wear of Cloudsdale. This was her main advantage in the fight, her sewing technique was obviously inferior, and the fabric choice wasn’t as inspired as that of lovely hat/vest combo of her rival, but she had a much larger and more diverse pool of influences.
Cross Stitch looked very pleased with this number and the rest of the gang admired it with numb awe, not wanting to risk their leaders anger with a loud display of appreciation. However, the leader just laughed as the cocky look washed away from her eyes.
“All right partner, you beat me fair and square,” she admitted. “I have never even SEEN that technique before. My name is Chaps by the way. Chaps Chaparall.” She held her hoof out and while Rarity hesitated for a bit, she was too polite not to shake it.
“Pleased to meet you, I'm Rarity. Rarity Belle.”
“Maybe you have it in you to impress Tamarack after all. MAYBE!” Chaps produced a small pin from her fruit hat and levitated it over to Rarity. It was simple, but eye catching with a black diamond on top.
“Take this,” Chaps demanded. “This might help you. It is a skeleton pin, not only does it look great. it opens doors for you.” Rarity raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Like a lock pick?” she asked.
“Yeah, it can be used as a lock pick as well,” Chaps replied.
After that strange encounter, she continued along the street towards Tamaracks community. She had heard stories about it, in the fashion design world it was basically the equivalent of a shaolin monastery, but she had never before now seen it in person. She wasn't exactly sure what her expectations were, but this place was still nothing like what she expected.
Tamaracks place was an enormous house made out of several smaller houses, each with its own colour and architectural style. The whole community was surrounded by a thick wall made out of sharpened tree trunks. As she went up to the gate, she was stopped by a burly pony with a massive bow-tie.
“Stop there!” He ordered. “Tamarack is not looking for a new apprentice at the moment.”
“I don't want an apprenticeship, I can teach myself thank you very much. I just want permission to use the tamarack lace.”
“You might as well turn back now, Tamarack will never...” The burly pony paused as his eyes were drawn to the little pin she had put on her saddle back. “Is that a skeleton pin?” he asked.
“Why yes,” Rarity said. “Personally, I think it clashes with the colour of my vest but a nice mare gave it to me and...” Before she could finish the sentence, the gate swung open and the burly pony waved her inside.
“Come in miss...” he began.
“Belle, but you can call me Rarity.”
“Come inside, Miss Rarity.”
Come think of it, Rarity had never seen Tamarack in person either. When she was presented to the legendary designer she had to look around twice just to confirm that this was indeed the pony she was looking for, and even tough it was very unlikely, she still wasn't entirely sure that some pony wasn't just playing a prank on her.
Standing in front of her was a young pink and blonde filly with a smile that beamed like the sun. If she had noticed Rarity's confusion she chose not to acknowledge it.
“Oh hello!” she said with a voice that sounded a little like if Sweetie Belle had given Apple Bloom speaking lessons, (or rather, the other way around).
"He...hello? Rarity said, still dumbfounded.
“I heard you had a skeleton pin, they look lovely don't they?” With her magic she took the pin, admired it and then pinned it back onto the saddle back. “did you know that I only made fifteen of them? One of these cost more than this entire town put together!”
She paused for a second as Rarity tried to process this information. Her jaw had been hanging open in a most unladylike fashion during this entire conversation.
“Anyway, to business,” Tamarack said. “You want to use my special lace design? Are you ready to prove yourself?” The young filly got something unexpectedly steely in her eyes which forced Rarity to gather herself as well as she could. She searched her feelings as her anxiety returned like a tidal wave.
'There is still time to back out, even if only barely,' she thought. Then she remembered Chaps and her gang, and the confidence the young mare seemed to have in her. The thought of having to face her again proved scarier than any challenge this young filly could offer her. Rarity swallowed and said:
“I'm ready.”
This seemed like a worse and worse idea by each passing second. Rarity was lying on the hard, sandy ground, her movements restricted by a hemp rope. The other end of the rope was tied to a mule who looked towards the prairie with a stoic expression. Watching the scene was a fistful of Tamaracks loyal designers, arranged in a rough horse-shoe shape around Rarity and the mule.
Tamaracks smile was still disturbingly sunny, she looked like a filly about to perform a prank on her classmate. The smile had an out-of-place innocence to it that made cold sweat appear on Rarity's brow.
“For the first trial, you gotta show that you're not just another froufrou city-designer, I only give my designs to those who got real country hardiness. Don't worry, this mule is heading towards New Shantytown, if you're not able to wrestle yourself out of the rope, I'm sure there's somepony there that'll free you.”
“...a-a-and how far is new Shantytown” Rarity whispered.
“Oh, about ten miles or so,” Tamarack said with a sing-song voice. “And don't worry, I'll take care of your stuff and your cat while you're gone. Are you ready?”
“YES!” she shouted, her panic having completely taken over. She closed her eyes and prepared to die.
'Of all the ponies I thought would die dragged behind a mule across the prairie, I was the last one on the list,' she thought to herself. 'Frankly, I thought Applejack would be the one...'
The mule set off, full tilt towards the horizon, completely derailing her train of thought. Her head whipped back and hit the ground hard. She let out a high-pitched claws-on-chalkboard squeal as she got dragged away.
The rough sand chafed her skin and each time there was even the slightest bump she'd jump up into the air and land spine-first on the prairie and a shock wave of pain would resonate trough her body. She had to keep rolling from side to side just to keep her skin from being torn open.
In the edge of her vision she saw a large rock rushing towards her. She barely had time to react, and she just rolled towards one side, hoping she was rolling away rather than towards the rock. She missed it, but only barely. The rock hit her right in the flank, which was already half-numb from pain.
Perhaps the worst part of the whole ordeal was the dirt, it crept deep into her coat and mane and caused every part of her not already hurting to itch. She tried not to picture herself: a flailing pathetic wreck covered in bruises and scratches. She cried, equally from despair and from the sand lodged in her eyes.
Eventually the pain actually disappeared, along with parts of her consciousness. It felt very much like the torrent of sleep that would wash over her after a long night of working on a dress, except that this was a sleep she may not ever wake up from. While struggling to avoid rocks and bushes, she also fought and equally hard battle in her mind just to stay awake and alert.
'What's the average speed of a mule?' she wondered. Rough mental calculations flashed across her mind, but unfortunately, there was no Twilight around to help her with the math. By this point, it was futile anyway, she had no idea how long she had been dragged around, it could've been hours or minutes.
She didn't even try to wrestle herself out of the ropes. How could she? Between the mental toll and the physical exhaustion, she simply didn't have much strength left, and what little she had was swiftly zapped away by the unforgiving sun.
The tiredness was winning and unconsciousness swept over her for one final time. 'Oh, great, I'm going to die!' she thought before passing out.
Something cold splashed against her face and it washed away some of the dirt and the pain. She opened her eyes slowly and once they focused she was the outline of a kind-hearted old pony with an enormous beard. The mule had been lassoed and captured. He still had his perpetual stoic expression as he sat with a rope tied around his body. The old bearded stallion smiled at her.
“Ah, you're awake, miss,” she said. “You're one tough pony, you know that?”
“I... don't feel so tough,” Rarity whispered.
“No wonder, you're from Stitchtown, right? Trying to get on Tamaracks good side huh? One advice, quit while you're ahead.”
At this point it was less about the massive amount of recognition and bits that Sapphire had offered and more about proving something, to herself if nopony else.
“No,” she said firmly. “I need to do this.”
The bearded pony sighed deeply and looked at her like you would a rebellious child.
“Well, I can give you a jug of water and some trail mix for the road back, but after that, you're on your own. I wash my hooves of you.”
Tamarack was watching the prairie with a pair of binoculars from the tallest tower of her community. Beside her was Opalescence who had the look of a cat contemplating murder. Tamarack had outfitted her with a dolls-dress that resembled a sailors uniform, complete with enormous red ribbons.
A small dot appeared on the horizon, and circling around it was a pair of hungry vultures. The dot slowly but surely turned into a white and purple pony, with her natural colours dulled by dirt and sand.
“I can't believe it, she actually made it!” Tamarack exclaimed. “Did you hear that, kitty? Looks like I can't adopt you as a pet after all.”
If it was at all possible, Opalescence looked almost relieved.
As Tamarack watched, the pony in the binoculars started to back-track, she turned right around and disappeared into the horizon again.
“The hay?” was the filly's only reaction.
The next day, Tamarack was awoken by her guard pony, who led her to the still technically alive but half-passed away body of Rarity who laid collapsed outside the gate. Tamarack approached her and poked her gently with one hoof. Rarity let out a deep, weary groan.
“Wake up, you silly. I watched you from the watchtower. Why did you go BACK into the desert? You were almost here!”
It took Rarity's last ounce of strength just to tilt her head up towards the filly.
“I dropped my skeleton pin. I had to go look for it,” she said with a hoarse voice. “Water... please,” she added. Now it was Tamaracks turn to look dumbfounded
“You went back into the desert to look for a PIN?” she asked.
“Yes.”
“...and you actually FOUND it?”
“Well, yes. There's a diamond on the tip, and I'm good at finding gems.”
“Wow,” was Tamaracks only reply. If anypony had told her in any other situation, she'd assume they were lying in order to get on her good side, but this mare was not in a condition to lie at the moment. The guard returned with a bowl of water and Rarity gulped it down greedily.
“I suppose you don't have a shower around here?” she asked once she had regained her senses and Tamarack couldn't help but giggle.
“No, but there's a lake not far from here where you can clean up, just watch out for the leeches.”
“Leeches?” Rarity shuddered. “Then I guess I'll just shower when I go home.”
“Suit yourself, but I do suggest you get rested, the next part of the challenge is tomorrow.” Rarity yelped and nearly choked on a mouthful of water.
“Next part?!”
“Yes, there's three parts to this challenge. Don't worry, it's an easy one.. At five tomorrow you're going to amuse the crowd of the local saloon.”
“I'm gonna- what?” Rarity gasped.
“y'know, some song and dance, or maybe a nice theatre show, it's up to you really.”
Rarity looked deep down into a coffee cup in front of her and lamented to herself:
“How am I supposed to come up with an entertaining show in just a few hours? I'll never be able to impress Tamarack enough to get permission to use her lace. Oh all bad things that could've happened this is the worst possible thing!”
She cried theatrically and let her head slump down onto the table.
“What's the matter Rarity? You look like you've been dragged from a mule across the prairie,” a rough, high pitched voice said from the table next to her. Rarity nearly sprayed coffee all over the wall.
“Pinkie Pie!” she exclaimed. “My old friend from Ponyville, what are you doing here?”
“Oh hello Rarity, I just slipped trough a plot hole to take away the skeleton pin from you so that you don't accidentally shatter the fabric of the universe. By the way, have you noticed that 'rural' is such a hard word to say? It keeps rolling around in my mouth.'” Rarity just stared at her friend as tough she was crazy.
“You're going to- what?” she exclaimed.
“I'm sorry, but you were supposed to drop it in the desert, you having it on you caused a plot hole.”
“A what?”
“Y'know one of those things you see on asphalted roads? Oh wait, silly me, that's a pot hole. No, a plot hole is one of those inconsistencies that makes you go 'What?!' Like 'Why is Rarity going trough all this trouble when she could just sneak into Tamaracks chambers and steal some of her laces with the skeleton pin, since it opens all locks?'”
Rarity still had trouble following along with the conversation and at this point she raised a questioning eyebrow.
“Wait, I can do that?” she asked. Hearing this made Pinkie Pie's eye grow to the size of plates.
“You mean you don't remember the mare from before telling you that?” she asked, sounding increasingly desperate.
“Well, no. I thought the Skeleton Pin had served its purpose storyline-wise, I just kept it because I liked it!"
“Oh shoot!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed. “I've really messed things up now.”
There was a howl from outside the door of the café, a deep guttural howl. The two friends instantly hugged each other close as the thing outside pushed the door open.
“W-w-what is this?” Rarity asked.
“It's the guardian of the Plot hole!” Pinkie Pie yelled, her already high voice raised an octave. “It's coming to get us, RUN!”
The two ponies ran straight into each other before simply circling the floor in panic. The door had finally been forced open and a creature resembling an amorphous mass of fabrics busted trough. It flailed its cotton-woven tentacles around like whips as it lurched closer towards the two ponies, trapping them in a corner.
“Don't worry, fair maidens, I will save you!” a voice rang out from above. They looked up and there was a handsome stallion in a Stetson hat striking a heroic pose while holding a rope. He then jumped down and swung towards the monster, knocking him down neatly with his back legs.
“My hero!” Rarity exclaimed and fell into the stallions arm.
“All in a days work, miss,” the stallion replied as he adjusted his hat.
That's when the fabric monster split in half and two rather annoyed ponies staggered out of.
“What the hay was that, Crimson?” one of them asked the handsome stallion. “The script said we were going to have a fight scene, not that you'd swing down like frigging' Jungle Japes and hit me right in the face with your motherbucking hooves!” The handsome stallion smiled sheepishly at this.
“I'm sorry, I got a little carried away,” he said and gestured towards Rarity, who had untangled from his embrace and was now combing her mane into place. “ Being asked to perform by a beautiful young mare does that to a stallion, y'know?”
Pinkie Pie started to shake vigorously and most of the colour splashed off her mane and coat. Left standing was a familiar hazel-colored pony, Cross Stitch.
“Did I do a good job?” she asked Rarity.
“You made a fine Pinkie Pie,” she replied. “Tough her voice is a little more annoying than that in real life. Thank you all for helping me with this.”
The actors bowed gracefully and the audience in the saloon stomped in appreciation. Most enthusiastic of all was Tamarack, who both stomped and raved loudly about the performance.
“Marvellous! Magnificent! Mind bending! The ending was a little disappointing, but I can look past that. You got one challenge left tough.”
“And what is that?” Rarity asked flatly. The young filly's eyes suddenly got cold again.
“A duel,” she said. “With my right-hoof mare. Chaparall, come here!” she demanded. There was some commotion as a mare tried to elbow her way trough the crowd.
'I've heard this name before,' Rarity thought and her pupils shrank to the size of pinheads when she finally put two and two together. A fruit hat bobbed up and down among the crowd and eventually her fears were confirmed.
“So we meet again, partner,” Chaps Chaparall commented as Rarity was left pale and speechless. Chaps turned towards Tamarack with a questioning look.
“Is this really the girl you want me to fight, mistress?” she asked. “We've already HAD a clothing design duel, and she won fair and square.”
a monstrous figure appeared from behind Tamarack, a hostile ball of fur covered in black and white textile. For some reason, it looked slightly familiar to Rarity, but she couldn't quite figure out why. Tamarack stroked the thing lovingly as she giggled softly.
“You're not going to have a fashion design contest, you silly. You're going to have a magic duel!”
“What?” Chaps horrified expression mirrored Rarity's perfectly. Finally, Rarity figured out why the fur ball looked so familiar...
“Is that Opalescence?!” she exclaimed and pointed at the fuzzy thing that stared out from behind Tamaracks legs with eyes that had gone past murderous into outright genocidal. “What did you do to her?”
“Isn't she cute?” Tamarack said, voice beaming with pride. “I designed this little outfit to her based on a Fancy Maid costume.”
“How dare you!” Rarity spat our from the back of her throat. “How could you do this to my little kiddy-widdy? That garish thing clashes with her eyes!” Opalescence watched them both, unsure of who she wanted to kill first.
“YOUR kitty?” Tamarack said. “We'll see about that, if you don't make it alive from the duel, she'll be MY kitty.” Her smile was as sunny as ever, but this time it had a slightly sinister quality to it. She looked over to Rarity, whose face had lost what little colour it had and had now turned pure white and her face softened somewhat.
“Aww, don't be like that, the duel won't happen until noon tomorrow, we got plenty of time to celebrate your successes so far,” she said and turned to the crowd.
“Come on boys, drinks on me!” she yelled and the crowd roared in appreciation.
There was an immediate rush to the bar and while the bartender was busy serving en customers at once, Tamarack turned back to Rarity.
“Do you drink,?” she asked, eyes sparkling innocently.
Anxiety had completely washed over Rarity and she started to look a little bit queasy.
“I do now,” she said faintly.
When the sun rose over the prairie the next morning, it coloured the sky red. It was unusually hot even by the standards of the frontier and the air quivered with anticipation. Rarity was fighting off her first-ever hangover. As she woke up on a lumpy guest beds in Tamarack's community, she felt a sudden longing to die.
Her head was pounding like a bass drum and in her mouth she had a dozen flavours, all nasty. On top of that, her throat was as dry as the sand that the wind carried across the desert. Somepony had put half a bottle of Buck Daniel's next to her bed, with a little post-it note on it that said “hair o' the dog.”
She had no idea what “hair of the dog” was, but another nug of the strong stuff seemed to be a pretty good idea. After checking that there were no actual dog hairs in it, Rarity emptied the bottle. The salt water held back some of the hangover, enough to drag herself out of bed. She made her way across the room and put a weary hoof on the door.
It wasn't until then that she noticed that the door was barricaded shut. There was even a grid of rusty iron bars over the window. Tamarack was apparently dead set that the duel would take place, whether Rarity wanted to or not.
For some reason, Rarity worried about Opalescence the most. What would become of her if she was put in the hooves of this sadistic young filly? An endless parade of increasingly ridiculous outfits until something finally snaps in that little kitty brain of hers, most likely. Rarity didn't even want to think about it.
It took Rarity several minutes to notice that they had also given her a tray containing a bowl of grits and a cup of coffee as breakfast. The coffee was a thick, warm sludge, intolerable to her sensitive city-mare palette, but she downed the content of the bowl in a most unladylike manner. Whatever would happen, at least she wouldn't be forced to duel on an empty stomach.
She was left alone in this cell the entire morning, and she tried her best to keep calm. The alcohol was slowly wearing off and she was finally in full control of her senses again. At this point, she didn't even have any anxiety left to use and she needed every last ounce of strength that she had.
To pass the time, she did Pony Chi exercises until she heard a rustling from the corridor. A burly pony grunted from outside the door and she could hear the barricade being pushed aside.
“Thank you, James,” Tamarack's soft voice was heard. The door swung open and the young filly entered the cell accompanied be James, the burly guard pony
“Ready or not, it's time!” she announced to Rarity.
Rarity was led to the wagon that was taking them to the designated duelling spot. She was joined by Chaps Chaparall, who had the look of somepony being led to the gallows. The young mare avoided Rarity's gaze, and she couldn't blame her, she didn't have the emotional strength to look her in the eyes either. A mule very similar to the one that had dragged her across the desert was waiting for them and once they both were on the wagon, he started a slow gait towards their destination.
"I'll gallop ahead and prepare the spot," Tamarack told her body guard. "You keep an eye out on those two," she pointed a hoof towards the two unicorns. As Tamarack disappeared, the guard pony trailed behind the wagon and kept an eye on them from some distance away.
Once she was sure that the bodyguard was too far away to hear their conversation, Rarity turned to Chaps, who was still avoiding her gaze in favour of the lonely mountains in the horizon.
“Are we really doing this?” Rarity whispered to her.
“I'm afraid so,” Chaps replied with a resigned shrug. “It's a tough town, partner.”
“Are we seriously going to let a little filly boss us around like this?”
Chaps fell silent and studied the ground as it rushed past under the wagon. Her emotions were hard to decipher, but this was the most forlorn that Rarity had ever seen her.
“Tamarack took me in when nopony else would,” she explained. “If it wasn't for her I'd be just another skull on the prairie. I owe her my life.”
Rarity felt something strange hit her, it was an insidious little emotion that just would never let go. If she didn't know better, she'd call it “hope”. Rarity got an uncharacteristically steely look in her eyes and she turned her head towards Chaps.
“No!” she exclaimed. “This is NOT how we do things where I come from. If we're gonna do this, we're gonna do this OUR way!”
The same feeling she had seemed to infect Chaps,because she leaned over and looked almost a bit interested.
“How?” she asked.
After looking to confirm that the guard pony was still some distance away, Rarity leaned closer in a conspiratorial manner.
“When they make the signal, I'm going to attack Tamarack. With a little bit of luck, I can take her by surprise. But that means I need to trust that you not to attack me.” Chaps gave her a look filled with doubt.
“So, you're asking me not to attack and hope that you won't attack me?” she asked.
Rarity nodded and the young mare burst out in sharp, bitter laughter.
“Wow, you really are stupid if you expect me to fall for that...” she said, but hesitated as she saw no deviousness in Rarity's eyes, only complete sincerity. Her laughter died out and she suddenly got a very stern expression.
“I'll consider it,” she said under her breath.
The duelling spot was a dried-out lake, flat even compared to the surrounding land, forming a natural stage for the drama that was about to unfold. The sun was in its zenith and shone down like the world's biggest spotlight, its rays reflecting in the still wet sand, making the whole surface shine like a mirror.
A trail of hoof prints disturbed the pristine ground and Chaps and Rarity was led in its direction like prisoners by Tamarack's bodyguard. Tamarack skipped along besides them, looking giddy, like she was about to see the greatest show of her life. In the centre of the dry lake, Tamarack had already marked out the distance with two poles placed exactly ten steps apart. The two combatants placed themselves next to pole and waited for Tamarack to make the signal.
Cold sweat was dripping from Rarity's brow and the drops danced trough her dusty coat, washing away sand in its trail. There wasn't a big crowd around like during the previous two challenges, this time the show was watched only by Tamarack, her body guard, the wagon-pulling mule and the ever-present hungry vultures, who eagerly awaited the outcome.
It was impossible to read the intention in Chaps' eyes from this distance. For a brief moment, Rarity considered actually attacking her, shooting off the most powerful blast of magic she could muster. At least then she’d have a slight chance of surviving if Chaps actually decided to attack instead of no chance at all...
“At the count of three,” Tamarack announced. “Three”
It was that sort of town, after all. Eat or be eaten. Kill or be killed, right?
“Two”
Right?
“One!”
Without hesitation, Rarity shot a paralyze spell she had learned to use while outfitting fidgety customers towards Tamarack. When she heard a secondary blast of magic, she assumed that Chaps had decided to betray her after all and waited for the impact. But instead, it was the guard pony who fell down, knocked out by the punch of a giant glowing fist.
“Thank you!” Rarity shouted to Chaps.”
“Any time, partner,” Chaps said with a wink.
Tamarack had fallen over and was unable to get up. She shouted along tirade of very unfilly-like profanities at the two unicorns, but Rarity just ignored the insults and towered over the young filly with a smug smirk and a stern expression.
“Oh calm down, you little brat,” she spat out, barely able to contain her rage. “This is just what happens when you try to order around grown-ups like this. Now, I did everything you wanted me to, so give me a roll of your lace or Celestia help me I will give you SUCH a spanking!”
Tamarack eventually stopped struggling and gave out a resigned sigh.
“Okay, you beat me, she said. The place is in a cupboard in my personal sleeping quarters, right beside the bed I made for the kitty... Hey, don't leave me here!” The two unicorn had already boarded the wagon and Chaps was giving instructions to the mule. The stoic creature seemed to take this impromptu regime-shift in stride and swore to take them back safely.
“Oh don't worry,” Rarity said smugly, enjoying every word. “The spell should wear of in about an hour. A fashion designer should be hardy, right? You can probably trek back to the town by yourself.”
“Away!” Chaps demanded and the mule started trotting towards the horizon, leaving the two incapacitated ponies behind. The last thing Rarity heard from Tamarack was a series of very loud curse-words.
Tamarack's room was a stark contrast to the rest of the community, rather than being decorated with an ironic country-western flair, her bedroom was something right out of Canterlot's Palace. She had an enormous four-poster bed that was practically overflowing with plushies and dolls, a desk with a whole pile of unfinished designs, each of them worth a small fortune and a giant ornate cupboard. It was locked.
For a second, Rarity was about to give up, then she remembered the Skeleton pin. She levitated it up to the lock and after some fiddling, she was indeed able to open it. The first thing she found was her personal possessions that had been stripped away from her earlier, as well as a whole pile of expensive fabrics that made it itch in Rarity's hooves.
But she avoided the temptation and took just what she needed: A roll of the legendary tamarack lace. She unrolled a little bit, and studied it. This was the first time she's ever seen it in person before and even after all of this, it somehow exceeded exceptions. The pattern was a complex one based around a five-pointed star and it shifted slightly as you moved it. Woven into the white cotton was a tiny silver thread, just enough to make it glisten in the late afternoon sun.
She had to give it to Tamarack, there was a sense of genius in every aspect of the design, It wasn't the holy grail of the fashion industry for nothing. Yet the question of 'Was it worth it?' kept nibbling on her mind. It was a moment of triumph, to be sure, yet she didn't particularly feel like celebrating. All she wanted right now was to come home to a warm shower.
Opalescence was sleeping in her new bed right next to the cupboard and didn't appreciate being woken up.
“Calm down, darling! It's just me,” Rarity said to her when the cat started hissing. “It's time to go home.”
Rarity held out the cage for her and Opalescence gazed at it with suspicion. Eventually she decided that being with Rarity was at least a little better than being with Tamarack, and stepped into the cage willingly for once.
Rarity was just about to board the train as she saw the sight of the familiar fruit hat move trough the crowd. Chaps Chaparall trotted up to her and stopped her right before she was about to board the train.
“whoa girl, you never told me you're leaving!” she scolded her.
“I didn't think you'd care,” Rarity said simply. Chaps struggled to retain the last scraps of her cocky attitude.
“I don't,” she lied. “I just wanted the chance to say goodbye. Well... goodbye, I guess.”
“Oh that reminds me, Rarity said and unpinned the skeleton pin from her saddle back. She levitated it over to Chaps and pinned it back onto her hat.
“You didn't need to give that one back,” Chaps said softly. “It's yours now.”
“Take it,” Rarity demanded. “think of it as a little something to remember me by.” Chaps gave her a smile filled with gratitude. Her smile slowly got a more mischievous quality, tough Rarity remained oblivious to this sudden change.
“I'll give YOU something to remember ME by!” The young mare announced. Before Rarity could process what was happening,Chaps had embraced her and planted a sloppy kiss right on her lips. The moisture and faint taste of salt water overwhelmed her, making the world spin around uncontrolleably. The speaking centre of her brain stopped functioning for a moment as she untangled from the young unicorns embrace.
“I... uh... uhm... she muttered as the train whistle sounded, signalling that the journey home was about to start.
“Take care of yourself, partner!” Chaps said as the conductor appeared and closed the door behind a dumbfounded Rarity.
The locomotive coughed out a burst of steam and as a slow metallic rhythm started from inside its belly, the train accelerated into the setting sun.
Dear Miss Rarity
Your design was fantastic! Just what I wanted. And your story alone was worth the prize. Frankly my dear, you're selling yourself short. This dress is worth at least ten times the amount you're asking for, and I will adjust your payment accordingly. As you wished, I will send the money to “Mayor Mare C/o Ponyville's Town Hall” along with a brochure for Alcoponies Anonymous. Take care!
Sapphire Shores
