Faithfully Yours

                                                                                                                                                          6th January

The doors of the elevator opened, and it was with no little anxiety that Rarity stepped out, flanked by vice-chairmare Chantilly Creme and assistant Silverstring of the Appleloosan Ladies Society. The corridor was deserted, but the elegant bubbling of several hundred voices caressed the grandly iced white plaster walls and the mirror-like marble floor.

"Now remember my little ponies - grace, poise and dignity. If we make a good impression we're sure to have all sorts of influential figures interested in funding our projects."

She barely heard her own voice as the immense doorway came into view, through which chandeliers winked in the evening sunlight, and lace-covered tables floated like water lilies in webs of designer gowns, finely quaffed manes and genteel smiles.

"Rarity, darling, you made it!" Pavlova Periwinkle, secretary to the mayor of Trottingham, was gliding towards them through the vast mats of light that fell from the immense glass doors on the left. "And you even brought your little helpers! Silverstring, Chantilly..." She nodded to the respective ponies. "My heavens, I thought Appleloosa was a little too far off the map!"

Rarity squirmed, before letting an indulgent smile settle over her discomfort. "well, there's no doubt the annual Country Mare's Dinner is worth a little long distance travel. And you're well are you, Pavlova?"

"Oh, quite! I'll fancy this must be one of the most high spirited dinners of all I've attended thus far in my career, just look at all the special guests! It's your first is it not? How thrilling for you. You must forgive me for not taking another trip down to your quaint little town, I've been frightfully busy. Alas, such is the fate of she who is shackled to the politics of a big city!"

"You have my...greatest sympathies. I'm sorry, I believe Mr Fancypants is trying to attract my attention. I think he's indicating that we are to be seated with him tonight. Please excuse me."

Leaving Pavlova agape, Rarity levitated her dress a fraction and wove carefully through the sunlit tables. Beyond a trio of gleaming pillars and a neatly positioned orchestral quartet (sadly not Octavia's), the room unfolded further, and various glances cocked her way as she ambled to Fancypants' side. Chantilly and Silverstring followed behind her dutifully. Back home they were eager to impress quite vocally, but here their small-town hearts fluttered fiercely and rendered them all but mute.

Fancypants smirked kindly. "Goodness my girl, hasn't it been a long time?"

"Too long, I must say." Rarity said, surprising herself with the age-old sorrow in her voice. She had to remind herself that it had been over a year since she had impressed the elite of Canterlot, and that she should be careful not to appear outspoken. She found this rousing a hardened part of her that didn't want to accept such a distance from her past, as though the twenty-four hour train journey that had brought them to Manehatten had seen her cut through time itself, with memories flying up either side like dust, while in their stuffy carriage she had brooded, drawing endless games of bridge from her country company. Said company she presently introduced to the stallion.

"Charmed, I'm sure! Come, take a seat next to me, Rarity! I'm sure Fleur won't be done mingling for a long time yet. Did you have a good Hearth's Warming Eve? I daresay it must have been a world away from your last one. Please, I want to hear all about your delightful new town."

Perching in Fleur's allocated seat, she began to tell the socialite all, dissecting her life in Appleloosa and rebuilding it like a card tower on the table, if not for his benefit then for her own. The choir sessions at the town hall. Basket weaving and bridge nights with the Ladies. Swatting locusts as she stewed in her new studio. Boiling jam in the kitchen on bitter mornings. Knitting scarves for members of the new workforce - it was cold at this time of year even when exerting ones-self outdoors. Leaving the scarves on the branches of the Apple trees. Picking flowers at the brook.

"Splendid! And how are your friends, those delightful characters I met at the Canterlot garden party?"

"Well," Rarity began, the dulcamara of memory thickening her voice. "I've not doubt you've heard about Rainbow Dash, the most talented young wonderbolt to emerge in recent times. And Twilight, she's been Princess Trixie's right hand mare since the Royal Redistribution. I'm afraid their high profile positions keep them immensely busy; Twilight's duties all but confine her to the palace, and I scarcely hear from either of them these days. Pinkie and Fluttershy are both in farming, although last I heard, Pinkie's family had relocated. Fluttershy and I married cousins within the Apple family. Her farm joined the Flimflam enterprise about four months ago now, and we have persuaded the company to invest a generous amount in our own. As for Applejack..."

Fancypants chuckled and raised his hoof, for which Rarity was grateful, because she barely knew where to begin regarding the abrupt marriage of her other cousin to Flim, and the drought of news thereafter. "Please, my dear, you do not need to tell me that. You forget I am a stallion of high circles."

At this point, the dinner gong sounded, and Rarity repositioned herself in her designated seat on the other side of the table. Her fellow Appleloosans had long since found theirs, in which they whispered to each other and shot glances across the room, presumably at the various high profile ponies of whom they had heard and recognised.

"It is not good manners to act so conspiratorial, ladies." Rarity chastised discreetly, though her fatigue was evident. Fancypants had reminded her of the pleasure of different company. They were joined directly by Fleur De Lis; she eyed them with an unreadable expression and absent-mindedly toyed with her partner's cuff-links.

"I understand that you are chairmare of your local lady's club, Mrs Rarity, together with being the farmer's wife. I must say, in that fabulous outfit you look much more the former than the latter. You must have been a great loss to the fashion world."

"On the contrary, Miss Lis, I run a boutique in Appleloosa alongside my other duties."

"I don't know where any of us would be without it!" Chantilly burst out, grateful for her token contribution.

"My my, you must have your hooves full. It at least explains why you don't look like a farmer."

"Sweetness, please..." Fancypants murmured, bringing his muzzle close to hers.

"Well she doesn't!" Fleur retorted with graceful mirth. "Mind you, a horn always helps in that department. No offence meant to you two...ladies."

"None taken at all!" Chirped Silverstring.

"Well if my town's anything to go by, horns and wings are the very marks of a farm pony." Rarity muttered with a coy laugh.

"There's Flimflam policy in a nutshell." Fancypants remarked in a tone that was ultimately unfathomable, were it not, perhaps, for the faintest hint of sorrow.

"Darling, you've no idea how I relish the rare occasions when you speak your mind." She turned back to Rarity sharply. "Mrs Rarity, you come from a fairly neutral perspective. Your husband is an Earth Pony, is he not? Tell me, what do you suppose the future is for our unequipped brethren, in light of Flim and Flam's recent renovations in farming?"

"You know, I'm sure somepony once said that it's rude to discuss politics at parties." Fancypants quipped, only half teasing.

"Oh but I thrive on it, Fancy! Besides I've no interest in small-talk. Idle chit-chat should be left to idle creatures." Her eyes sparkled surreptitiously to the left of Rarity, where Chantilly and Silverstring giggled at a particularly handsome waiter.

"Well I mean to say, here is an even better subject for your interrogation. Mr Flim, how nice to see you again! And Lady Flim, you're looking positively radiant!"

Rarity turned on impulse, and there was Applejack. And yet, upon taking a second glance at the mare before her, Rarity wondered how she'd even recognised the farm pony that was her close friend. 'Lady Flim' was sporting a pale peach satin dress with a high-slit trail that revealed a tasteful portion of leg, her signature trio of apples (gleaming somewhat rebelliously amidst the genteel atmosphere) and her ample golden tail that lent the ensemble its gentle domed shape. A thin strap ran around the front, and was fastened at one side with a green apple-blossom brooch. Her butterscotch fur was glossy, evidently having enjoyed regular grooming, and her blonde mane, once long and barely kempt, floated halo-like about her head in a voluptuous honey coloured bob. The ends were sculpted with a few well placed curls, and a soft, graduating fringe obscured half her face with surprising flattery. Her husband stood at her side, clad in a tuxedo and a blue velvet waistcoat. His red mane was plastered back flat against his pate, lending emphasis to his sharp eyes.

"Sorry we're late all." Flim drawled, as Rarity and Applejack locked eyes for the first time in five months." Slight hiccup in business at Dodge Junction. Thankfully my employees have since straightened that out. I do hope we haven't  missed starters?"

"You're right on time, old fruit. And how are you both?"

Rarity couldn't believe she hadn't noticed that the two remaining seats at their table were reserved for the Flims. Flim was talking, and then Fancypants was introducing them all, with Fleur chiming in with her semi acrid wit, and Rarity felt her lips sculpt the word 'charmed', but she heard none of it. She sat, shivering hotly in her friend's company, as that perfect and so very anti-Applejack hair shredded the sunlight and teased her peripheral vision. She felt like a jewel on a chandelier that couldn't stop spinning at such a speed that everything looked the same, so that she might have been sitting perfectly still within a perpetually warped world.

"So what did you want to interrogate me about, Miss Lis?" Flim smirked invitingly. Rarity blinked, tuning in again.

"Ah yes." Fleur began, fully intent on calling her partner's bluff. She repeated her initial question crisply, enjoying her own elegant execution of each word.

Had Flim supposed Fleur was challenging him, he might not have acted so relaxed. However, he was fully aware that none of his company posed a threat to his politics.

"You overestimate me, miss Lis." He drawled. "I am a simple country business stallion. I see spots where things are lacking, and I work with my brother to fill them in. I am a stallion of progress, of More instead of Less. I have no great visions of the future that transcend great tasting produce and the happiness that this brings. Perhaps my wife can lend her opinion, I daresay she is much more informed in this area."

Fleur turned to Applejack with a wry smile. "Well, Mrs Flim? What do you think?"

Rarity stared down at her side dish, waiting for her friend to speak.

After a few moments, Applejack obliged. Her accent had softened and her sentiment was simple, with the futile poignancy of a blunt knife. "We've all just gotta stick together, I guess."

"Strange that, coming from you." Rarity's faint words had dripped out of her before they had even registered in her mind. They lingered stagnantly in her side dish, and she could do nothing but stare at them, while everyone else tried not to. Fleur, at least, was prepared to tug out this weed.

"Ah yes, isn't it true that such ideals are as fundamentally flawed as we who spout them?"

"We can only be what we are." Applejack said tersely, eyes to the table.

"My point exactly." Replied Fleur. "Now, shall we take a look at the menu?"

Notions of food were fired this way and that, until the awkwardness was thoroughly shot through. Once all the orders were made, the conversation quickly became monopolised by Flim and Fancy's cultured past-times, with Fleur's frequent speculations on this and that fashion. Rarity made a few good natured comments in a half-hearted effort to redeem herself, while Chantilly and Silverstring merely laughed along to whatever they supposed to be funny just to keep their heads above the torrent of city sophistication in which they felt themselves drowning. Applejack didn't laugh, or comment, or speculate. She remained absolutely silent, a picture of moody integrity contained in a beautiful dress.

By the time the food arrived, the ponies were engrossed in conversation about the latest productions at the Canterlot theatre, and Rarity was just about ready to throw herself in despite her ignorance, suddenly unwilling to sit in almost complete silence for the rest of the evening of account of Applejack. It was then that her old friend took the opportunity to lean in close to her.

"What are you doin' here?" She whispered.

Rarity had a hard time keeping discreet. "It's the Country Mare's Dinner is it not? I'm representing the Appleloosan ladies."

Applejack smiled and muttered, "I'd say your company are doing a better job of it."

Rarity twitched with fury, not sparing a glance at her associates. "Everypony's been so worried about you, Applejack. Why haven't you made contact with anyone since running away with him?"

Applejack's smile faded and she turned away sharply. Rarity made to speak, but was interrupted by Fancypants.

"Mrs Flim, Rarity, you were close to Rainbow Dash, help me out here. Fleur thinks Soarin will win the summer derby, but I'm sure you will agree with me that it will most certainly be Rainbow. I mean it may be her first, but that girl is in a league of her own!"

"Oh but Soarin has come out top three years in a row now!" Fleur piped up. "He is in better shape than ever, and unfortunately, if the press has any merit at all, his girlfriend's talent is by no means paralleled by her lifestyle of late. There's talk of....elicit substances...don't you know, and not the kind that improve performance either."

Chantilly and Silverstring gasped in sync. "The scandal!" Chantilly exclaimed, as if it were a particularly good tasting element of her dish. "Well I must say she looked fine when I met her at Rarity's wedding, but I suppose you never can tell with these celebrities."

"Oh balderdash," Fancypants murmured around a shy chuckle. "Vicious rumours and nothing else, I'm sure." He cast an apologetic look at Applejack and Rarity.

"Absolutely." Declared Flim. "I have every faith in her. Ladies, word to the wise, for I am a boy of the bookies. " He addressed Chantilly and Silverstring with a charming smile. "Put your money on our dear Rainbow when you can. I guarantee she won't let you down."

"It's ever so exciting, is it not? Girlfriend versus Boyfriend, the two most talented wonderbolts going head to head, with love itself on the line!"

Applejack cleared her throat. "In any case Fleur, I won't let it keep me up at night. The kind of love you know is only on the line when somepony else is rich enough to buy it."

"Jacqueline." Flim barked abruptly.

"I'm goin' for a smoke." Before anyone could stop her, Applejack dismounted her chair and stalked towards the glass doors that led to the balcony.

"Excuse me, I'll join her. Ladies, why don't you tell Mr Flim here about the society's big plans for Appleloosa?" Rarity was amazed at how little any of it mattered to her now.

Outside, a spectacular view saw the last of the frivolity shelved neatly and negligibly on the balcony. The winter evening sky shone like an immense fresh wound, and Manehattan, drained of colour, brooded for miles under the sun. Applejack was struggling to light her cigarette with one of the tea lights on the railing posts, and Rarity swiftly assisted her, levitating her lighter out of her pocket and sending it towards the amber mare. She'd given up smoking as a young adolescent, but given the surreal magnitude of change her life had endured in Appleloosa, rekindling the old habit had seemed natural and trivial. Nevertheless, she had different standards for Applejack.

"My my, I never thought you'd be one to smoke."

Applejack glanced at her waspishly, before sharply exhaling a current of smoke from the corner of her mouth.

"But then, I suppose I also never thought you'd run out on us." She paused, before deciding to voice a thought that was more provocative than reflective of her feelings. "Perhaps there's a lot to you that none of us knew."

"Damn right." Applejack croaked despondently, neglecting to tip her ash. It flaked off in its own time, dusting the railing sloppily.

Rarity was growing impatient, and cast the ash off the railing with a sweep of her horn. "I must say you were incredibly rude to Fleur."

Applejack finally faced her square on. "Well you ain't exactly been a picture of good manners yourself this evening."

"Can you really blame me, in light of everything? And you never answered my question earlier. Why haven't you been in touch with your family?"

Applejack took a deep breath, and vulnerability flashed in her eyes. "Are they okay?"

"Answer the question."

The former farm pony dropped her head, adopting a steady gaze at the floor. "I had nothing to say to them."

Rarity shut her eyes. Applejack was striking everywhere that wasn't guarded. She forced herself to move onto something else. "Why did Flim call you Jacqueline just now?"

Applejack's gaze didn't stray from the floor. "It's just what I go by now."

"And where are you and your husband living?"

"Atlantic city, Neigh Jersey. Flim owns an estate there."

"Nice home is it?"

"It'd give you a small heart attack." The dry hint of mirth was drained from her eyes as quickly as it had come, and once again they abandoned Rarity, this time settling on what lay before them. "I miss this view though."

Rarity eyed her old friend sluggishly. "Your husband certainly is a flirt."

"I didn't see him flirting with you, so it's none of your business."

"And you love him, do you?"

"I married him didn't I?" Her accent thickened with her anger, and her green eyes shone fiercely in the evening light.

At this point, Rarity knew that she would get nothing from her old friend. It was a bitter realisation, and she struggled to contain her anger and disappointment when she whispered feebly, "fine."

And then a thought occurred to her, and she got it out quickly before her voice cracked. "Do you think Rainbow is...using?"

Applejack's face was unfathomable as she delivered her verdict. "Without a doubt."

"Ah, there she is!" Came a shrill voice. Pavlova Periwinkle was making her way onto the balcony alongside the inimitable Cherry Jubilee. "Lady Flim, what an honour! Allow me to introduce myself. I'm Pavlova Periwinkle, assistant to the mayor of Trottingham, and this is Cherry Jubilee, who tells me dear Rarity here used to work as a Cherry Sorter on her farm. Isn't it fascinating how ponies can progress?"

Cherry Jubilee's eyes widened as they locked on Applejack, before she burst into a regional frenzy. "Is that Applejack I see in that pretty dress! Why I'd heard the rumours but I never... My my, don't you look stunning! You know I never did forgive you for leavin' me sugar, farm ain't never gonna be the same!"

Applejack beamed wearily at the farm pony, while Pavlova twitched irately, her attempt to show up Rarity having backfired. She waited until the two country ponies had wandered indoors together, before addressing Rarity.

"You know, I had a discussion with a number of my dear friends here and I'm afraid we all have reservations about the projects of your society. But if you like, I could introduce you to a few small-town mare clubs like yours, perhaps you could join together and pursue some more realistic goals before attempting to curry favour with the likes of Fancypants, hmm?"

And with that, the last of the magic of the Country Mare's Dinner was gone. The balcony little more than an ashtray, and inside, where the manners were refined and the talk was barely garnished with sincerity, the tables were like spinning plates, held precariously by conversations and relations as insipid as they were eloquent. If friendship wouldn't last under this sky, why would any of this? In the heat of her irritation, a couple of words prized her lips apart. "Oh save it."

She turned back to the spectacular view, vaguely registering Pavlova's indignant "very well" and the receding trickle of her hooves. In the sky, colours kicked at other colours, made love to other colours, made other colours. All the world was a view, and alone with it, she suddenly decided she would go out tonight; don a red dress, take to the streets and break each building like chocolate. This was a city night, on which cigarette smoke could touch the moon, and the stars didn't aim like a rain of needles. And she would  deal it to all sorts of strange sanctuaries - a park bench, the back of a cab, the ear of a sympathetic bar stallion. She'd leave Chantilly and Silverstring at the hotel of course; she'd no interest in being their chaperone in a city she didn't even know herself. But where did this leave her and Applejack?

This question was shortly answered when she drifted back inside, only to be informed by Fancypants that abrupt circumstances required the presence of Sir and Lady Flim elsewhere, and they had left five minutes ago.