In Which The Author Already Regrets Everything
Friendship could mean becoming so familiar with a pony as to gain an acquaintance with every last one of their personal -- for Rarity's purposes, 'quirks' felt sufficiently polite -- and this was generally followed by trying to find a means of personally reconciling those quirks. Ideally, this would occur in a way which would allow the friendship to maintain, and that could be rather difficult. Especially when Rarity was dealing with her own friends: a situation which often provided reminders that the quirks weren't going anywhere without a significant amount of therapy, but the pony would potentially have to resist the urge to trot out at just about all times.
Start with Rainbow's inability to truly listen, paired with the truly disastrous tendency to act on whatever she thought Rarity had said. Then kick in Twilight's obsessive qualities, Applejack's ongoing refusal to recognize that biology had a number of downtime requirements, and you didn't want to forget the difficulty of keeping Pinkie operating within the same universe: switching that last out to 'sane universe' was usually a little too much to hope for. And Rarity had to deal with every last tenth-bit of it, often while smiling through tight-pressed lips because that was the best way to keep anypony from spotting the tooth-grinding.
She loved them all, and often did so in spite of themselves. She had to find a way to accept them for who they truly were, and that included allowing every last flaw to remain within personality's gem. And she could imagine that they'd had similar thoughts about her, but really, none of them seemed to appreciate that what they kept unfairly describing as 'regularly scheduled insanity' was just a requirement of her profession! Blowing off steam, so to speak. Because her occupation came with many stresses and if you kept pulling on the same threads without any release of strain, something was going to break.
You had to deal with the quirks and in doing so, it helped to bask within the warmth of commonalities. Rarity and Rainbow shared a certain core drive: to be remembered. The need to complete a creation often put the designer within Applejack's idea of work hours, just before exceeding them. A certain love of the lecture could be compared to Twilight, and several of Pinkie's party environment designs involved the balance of light and shade. They all reflected each other, in ways large and small. It was part of what kept the group together.
And with Fluttershy... both loved cats, of course. Each needed to indulge in rather more than the standard degree of mane care. There was that odd (but not 'freaky'!) knowledge of sewing, and Rarity had yet to learn exactly how the pegasus had gained that degree of skill: her best guess was that it came from stitching wounds. But more than anything else, it was that they were both in high-stress occupations. And for the caretaker, the consequences for failure were just as personal, but... rather more dire.
But Rarity vented (and nothing more than that!) regularly. Fluttershy had a regrettable, oft-repeated tendency to just let the internal boiler gain pressure until the point of true explosion. Potentially a final one. And so, rather early in the relationship, Rarity had determined that there was a need for somepony to regularly spend time with the pegasus. Give her a pony voice to hear, as opposed to the chorus of chirps and howls which resided at the cottage. Otherwise, a mare who had naught but animals for company might turn... strange.
Spa hours together were a necessity. Simply talking had a chance to help, and those talks needed to take place on schedule. Because Fluttershy could react rather oddly to stress. The alters which had arisen from her core personality under the simple need to make sales had proven that. And without regular pony contact... Crazy Cat Mare, times roughly one thousand, with absolutely no need to stop at cats.
(Rarity was perfectly aware that she had her own cat. One. And she was not crazy. She just... vented. Regularly. When it all got to be too much, and before anything truly broke.)
(Although she had thought about getting Opal some companionship. After all, Bearer and franchise duties meant Rarity was away from home a lot. It was just being practical.)
She arguably spent more time with Fluttershy than with any other Bearer, and felt herself to be familiar with every last one of the caretaker's quirks.
She was wrong.
Friends offered up hours to help each other and when that gift came from Fluttershy, it was precious indeed. The cottage consumed so many of the mare's hours, kept calling her back to the endless duties: something which could make even short absences difficult, and anything which had her away overnight required a substitute. Rarity was aware that Fluttershy had a short trip coming up (although the details had been rather vague): arranging for somepony to watch the grounds during the day was presenting a few issues.
It was hard to get Fluttershy away from the cottage for long. But Rarity had a major order combined with a pressing deadline. And the pegasus contributed far more in inspiration than imagination, while her sketching skills were limited to rough animal anatomy -- but if you offered her a pattern and precut pieces to unite, then dresses would come.
They were working together, assembling the last of what Rarity needed to mail out. The largesse of time, offered freely by a pony who had so little to spare. It was another reason for the designer to love her.
"...I need a fresh needle," eventually emerged from behind a half-curtain of manefall: the words themselves just barely managed to waft over the sewing device. "This one's starting to go dull."
Rarity nodded. A portion of her corona split off from the busy whole, worked around several floating bolts, projected towards a supply cabinet, then opened the appropriate drawer and began to delve within. "Which section have you reached?"
"...the linens."
Another nod. "So something extremely penetrating," Rarity judged. Several needles were glowingly sorted, and the chosen tool began to drift towards Fluttershy's station. "As befits durability." Linen was far stronger than most suspected.
"...penetrating," Fluttershy echoed -- and then, rather thoughtfully, "How sharp can a needle be?"
Rarity had to think about that one: the regard of the current design through her glasses became something of a squint. "Naturally, or with the proper enchantment?" Which was a spell she regretfully didn't know, and it would have saved her so much money on supplies...
"...both, I think," Fluttershy decided. Perfect teeth nipped at the floating needle, and the device was reloaded. "I mean... a really sharp needle has to be capable of getting through canvas, right?"
"Yes," Rarity acknowledged. "I would imagine so." Although canvas had its weaknesses. Rarity was roughly acquainted with most of them, and all of that knowledge came from somepony else's experience because a mark-switched Applejack had conclusively proven that no Boutique dress should ever be built from canvas.
"...or maybe wood?"
Rarity's ears lofted.
"Sorry? Didn't quite catch that."
(She had. She just wanted to make sure of what she'd heard.)
"...just thinking about some of the missions," Fluttershy eventually said. "You've put needles through... things. A lot of things."
"I usually have a number with me and weapons are frequently required," Rarity defensively replied. "Besides, a portion of that penetrating power comes from speed. And it typically ruins the needle." She'd billed the palace for far too many replacements, and the royal accounting department was currently five missions behind.
"...okay." The device whirred, and more disjoined sections were united. "...Rarity... can I borrow a few needles? To take with me. I just... need some extra-sharp ones. I'll replace them if anything happens..."
"Oh, don't worry about that." The right forehoof dismissively waved off the Boutique's budget. "Consider it a gift. For the time, and... the company."
Fluttershy smiled. Rarity thought.
Extra-sharp needles. And she mentioned canvas...
"You're attending that --" what was the word Fluttershy had used? "-- conference soon, yes? Just a few days now?"
"...yes."
And, allowing the lightness of her tones to make the joke all the more radiant, "Surely you're not making an outfit for it! Because while I appreciate that you might be turning your hooves towards the design phase, I would still be offended if you did not allow me to play my part!"
Silence. Something which wasn't exactly unusual with Fluttershy.
It stretched out. Spread. Began to drown the sounds of sewing...
"Fluttershy?" There was a little concern in the address. "You're not making an outfit from canvas, correct?"
"...right."
"Nothing for the conference."
"...we just call it a conference," wasn't quite an answer.
"For vets?"
The clock advanced.
"...no. I..." The pegasus swallowed. "...we should just work on the dresses."
Naturalists? But this didn't feel like the time to press. Not when the deadline was looming.
Sewing. Something which can get through canvas. And she has all of those animal feed sacks which can be repurposed...
Maybe it's just a heavy-duty cat wrap.
The order was mailed out. Two days passed without their seeing each other, because both cottage and Boutique had their own requirements. But they always got together at the spa once per week, because they each had that desperate need to relax.
Rarity got there first.
Waited.
...well, it wasn't exactly unusual for Fluttershy to be late: the cottage's typical state defaulted to 'emergency'. A messenger bird would be dispatched to the spa if an animal was in medical crisis: the leg-tied scroll would cover the details. Rarity could just begin the soak without her.
She lowered herself into the privacy of the steaming pool, allowed the heat to soothe her tensed muscles. Waited.
The pegasus limped in fourteen minutes later, and the explosion of water produced by Rarity's frantic scramble out of the pool undid everything.
"Fluttershy!"
"...I'm sorry for being late," the caretaker half-whispered, and managed another half-trembling step towards the rim: the muted sound of her hoof's soft impact was nearly lost in that which came from water dripping out of Rarity's coat, added to the impacts from every fragment to fall away from coral mane and tail. "...I sort of had..."
There were so many fragments...
"Was it a timber wolf? Did it come onto your land, or did you encounter it on the path here?" The unicorn was squinting again, trying to check for wounds through the concealing steam. "Clearly you won, but..."
"...not a timber wolf," the pegasus forced out. "...I just need to..."
"A tree branch broke as you were passing by?" The next check was directed towards the shapely back, looking for bruising. "Fell on you? Sun and Moon, Fluttershy, you have fragments of wood and bark all over your body! And there's splinters! I just saw a splinter, and you are not getting into the water until I have that removed and we've sterilized and covered the wound!"
"...oh. Splinters. I... didn't notice," said the mare who often had to ignore the sensation of kittens clawing their way up her legs. Another step. "...I'm sorry about the..."
"Celestia's heated hooves, Fluttershy, what happened?" Her horn had ignited, and soft blue energy was combing through yellow fur. Clearing out debris while trying to get a better view. "You look like a Crusader minus the tree sap!"
The pegasus paused.
"...would adding sap make it more authentic?"
Rarity blinked. Stared, and Fluttershy's fine features vanished behind debris and manefall. Mostly debris.
"...I didn't mean to say that," she whispered. "...it slipped. It slipped, and the needle slipped into a pressure point... I... should just go home --"
"-- not until I take care of you!" It had nearly been a shout. "Until I know what is wrong, what has happened! Fluttershy, if somepony has hurt you --"
The pegasus took a slow breath. Every feather and fur strand trembled.
"...Rarity... are we friends?"
The white jaw almost dropped.
With a fully false levity, "I suspect several rather startled and Elements-blasted opponents would need to argue for the positive --"
It was barely a whisper. "...and if I tell you this... are we still going to be friends?"
This time, Rarity's teeth clamped tightly against each other. Fought back against the sudden vibration of fear.
Something abusive, where she feels she's the wrongdoer when she's actually the victim.
Or... something -- she could barely reconcile the thought, not when it was Fluttershy -- sexual. Sexual and -- strange. So odd that she fears it will drive me away...
...it should have been two spa sessions per week...
"...because I don't tell anypony," the terrified breath wafted into cold white ears. "...not when they don't already know. I... I can't... not when I... when I'm so scared of how they'll..."
Four white legs forced themselves to straighten.
"Consider it as a challenge, Fluttershy."
"...to talk?" sounded far too much like a sob.
"To tell me something which would make me stop loving you," Rarity fiercely countered. "You will fail."
Two tears fell from the single visible eye.
And then the pegasus talked.
All of the debris had been combed away.
Fluttershy was resting near the rim of the steaming pool, forelegs half-stretched out. She looked oddly... relaxed. Content. For she had spoken, and love had not ended.
She also had a number of white bandages on her body. The spa had first-aid kits within ready reach, and Rarity had cleaned and dressed the little wounds, but... the bandages were somewhat twisted.
Her voice had remained steady throughout: she'd put so much of herself into insuring that would be so. But she'd been doing the work with her corona, and the shock had to be expressed somewhere.
"...thank you," Fluttershy softly told her, and the damp yellow snout nuzzled white fur. "For... listening. For still being here --"
"-- I'm going with you." A statement.
Fluttershy looked up at her. "...why?"
For your protection was part of the answer.
It was a strange world, and it took all kinds to make it so. She wanted to make sure that Fluttershy was safe.
"So I can see it for myself," Rarity provided the rest. "Maybe that will help me to understand. I love you still, Fluttershy, but..." The words nearly fused within her throat. "...I don't understand."
She had reconciled so much about her friends. But this was so far beyond a mere quirk...
"And I want to understand," Rarity gently finished, carefully keeping all of the tremble within. "I can close the Boutique for a time, in the name of understanding. And... caring. So please... let me come."
The pegasus thought it over.
"...yes," she finally said. "But... please don't tell the others. Not yet. When I said it that night, on the train, it... just sort of slipped out. I'm not ready for everypony to know."
Rarity nodded. How would I even...?
"And I'm following you back to the cottage," she firmly stated. "So we can both finish your -- outfit. No more accidents with needles and bad impact angles." She definitely wasn't getting those specimens back. Ever.
"...thank you." Fluttershy took a slow, warm breath. "...so. Since you're... sort of in on this. Tree sap. Yes or --"
"-- NO."
It was a beautifully sunny summer day in Canterlot, and that gave Rarity all the more light to work with as she looked at a new part of the city. She had yet to explore the whole of the capital: an issue which partially arose from limited hours, added to the fact that exploring the oldest section meant you were going through the Tangle and would probably need to pay somepony to guide you out again.
But she was familiar with the primary convention center, because that was where the majority of fashion shows were held. And they weren't heading in that direction. More... northwest. This section was composed of small shops, wide streets, and lofty hotels. A place to stay for those who didn't want to deal with the higher prices near the Heart, although it seemed to be distinctly short on eateries.
There were signs in some of the shop windows. Placards of welcome, for all of those on the approach to the destination. Some of them added a few additional details. And Fluttershy, warm and content under Sun, calmly trotted forward as that surprising strength pulled the weight of the hitched cart along.
It was rather easy to guess as to who was heading towards the destination, because just about all of them had carts. It had taken Rarity and Fluttershy nearly ten minutes to load this one, and the process had mostly allowed them to get rid of the last few rough patches.
So many carts, converging on a single destination. All being pulled by ponies who typically moved in pairs, and looked... happy.
"So my not having paid for admission in advance...?" Rarity carefully checked.
"...isn't a problem."
"And it is acceptable for me to not truly participate," the unicorn added. "You are sure?"
"...they sell special badges at the door," Fluttershy assured her. "Some are for ponies who just decide to attend at the last minute. And they're not always ready to get dressed up, so not having an outfit doesn't stand out too much. But others are for -- I guess you'd call them guests. Or press." With a soft snort, "We try to keep the press out, because it's the same 'novelty' stories every year. Eventually, they started to run out of ways to say 'crazy'. But that's why the guest passes cost so much. More than the normal versions. It blocked a few of the newspapers, especially the ones which don't like to refund expense accounts. But I'll tell them you're not a reporter, Rarity. If anypony asks, we can just say you're with me. Or... curious." A thoughtful pause. "They might take 'curious' the wrong way, though -- oh, look! We're getting really close now! There's one of the tents!"
Rarity looked, and a dome of tall white canvas bounced back far too much Sun into her eyes. "One of the --"
"-- because we get changed before we go in." With a gentle smile, "Well, I do. This has been happening for years, Rarity. The conference puts these out for us. Nopony minds. And then once we're done, somepony collects and parks the cart. It's all very considerate -- and that one's empty! Ooooh, let's get inside before somepony else claims it!"
The act of donning one of Rarity's dresses for the first time could be a two-pony operation: one to wear it, and the other to demonstrate how to slip the creation onto the body in a way which prevented gems from tearing into fabric.
Getting Fluttershy dressed for her conference also required two ponies, but most of that was dealing with the bulk.
"...it's so nice to have somepony with me!" Fluttershy smiled. "I usually have to get dressed alone. And that's complicated. Pieces kept falling into the sides of the tent."
And then she giggled.
"...we call them blooming tents," she told Rarity. "But when parts are falling over, it's more like a seed pod trying to break open. I had to keep ponies from coming in to help..."
"Is that why so many approach in pairs?" Rarity made herself ask.
"...to dress each other," was confirmation. "And... it helps to come with a friend. Thank you for coming, Rarity."
The unicorn slowly levitated one section of the... 'outfit'... and locked it into place. Most of Fluttershy's flanks vanished.
"...so there's some protocol," Fluttershy offered as the headpiece was lined up. "Things you should know about before we go in. ...and I'm sorry for not mentioning them earlier."
It produced a forced nod.
Is this load-bearing?
Is it load-bearing enough? There's a lot which goes above this. Most of the --
-- why am I --
-- to understand. I want to understand...
"...first," the mostly-concealed pegasus said (and the little rustle from her body produced a matching noise from the -- outfit), "once we're inside... don't use my name. Call me by what's on the badge."
Rarity attached the badge. It took a solid corona push to get the tack in place, and it was probably going to take a small fire to get it out again.
"So 'Holly'."
"...yes. And even if you recognize somepony else's voice, just use the badge name. It's more polite. And... a lot of them aren't quite ready to step out of the forest's camouflage yet. They're still trying to make their decision there." Paused. "Their deciduon..."
Another giggle.
"Fluttershy?"
"...it's funny!" And then it was a laugh. "It's all so funny now, because I'm here with somepony! Deciduon! It's a pun! I'll have to tell somepony inside. And explain it to you later, but that could take a while. Oh, and you can't tell anypony what you do for a living."
Instantly affronted, "I cannot confess to making dresses? To being a designer? That would somehow be offensive, when I am moving among a crowd of --" and forced herself to stop.
"-- a grove! It's a grove! Use the terminology! And don't, Rarity."
"I fail to see why --"
"-- don't." The unexpected double stomp of forehooves was only partially muffled by the shell. "Because they'll react. They always do, it's always the same reaction, and... I don't know if you're ready for it. You wanted to come with me, Rarity, and... I want you to stay. Please trust me. Please don't tell them. Okay?"
Eventually, the designer nodded. "Very well." It was a small price to pay, even if not understanding the reason for the charge seemed to be inflating the total.
The pegasus exhaled. "...okay. Seal me up?"
A portion was attached above the headpiece.
Another portion.
Shade spread out within the white light of the tent.
And then it was complete.
The pegasus rustled with excitement. Several hundred false (but still edged) leaves and red cotton ball berries mimicked the action.
"...it's perfect," Fluttershy whispered. "Perfect... Rarity, so much of this was you. I had the basic idea, and I can put things together... but when it comes to creating, it's you. It always has been. This is the best one I've ever had. I'm going to get so much attention..."
Rarity, caught between sincere compliment, acknowledgement of the simulacrum's effectiveness, and a sort of low-level horror, forced her attention into the finer details.
"And you don't object?"
"Why should I?" offered a smile: something which was also expressed through a wink of still-visible blue-green eyes. "They're not looking at me."
Something just happened.
She didn't hesitate before speaking. And her decibels increased.
"I just realized something," Rarity suddenly offered. "We could manage an additional degree of authenticity." Her corona briefly hefted full saddlebags. "I do have sufficient for modification." She'd brought supplies, just in case repairs had to be made.
"...how?"
"You would normally have a few knotholes --"
The entire trunk seemed to giggle.
"I'm not going to be offended by that," her friend immediately decided. "Because you didn't know any better. But I'm not going to have any knotholes, Rarity. I'm a social tree!"
And with that, the holly happily rustled its way out of the tent.
There was a certain category of Canterlot resident who was often perceived as being allergic to nature. They lived in stone, worked within marble, and mostly saw flowers as a means of determining when a neighbor's garden had crossed onto their property.
Rarity distantly questioned if any of those ponies were counted among the very few who were staring: from the absolute edges of the street, or out of their windows. And she wondered how they felt about the forest coming to them.
Dozens, hundreds of trees were marching towards one of the largest hotels. There were ginkgos and oaks, a bay laurel and a sycamore, it was easy to spot the oak and pine and... that was just about where Rarity's casual ability to identify species ran out. She didn't doubt that most of the inhabitants of the mobile trunks were capable of drastically expanding her knowledge.
Fluttershy had said it once. Words which had just... slipped out.
"I'd like to be a tree."
Rarity never would have imagined that her friend's desire had this much company.
Some ponies stared, because trees were on the march and staring was the least of all possible reactions --
-- actually, the value of 'tree' was a variable. These were costumes, and some ponies had done better than others. A few were fully concealed within trunks, and not all of those had thought to give themselves enough space for the full play of legs within the hollow: those specimens tended to more or less fall forward. Others had attached real leaves to false branches: some had gone the opposite way and in both cases, bits tended to drop off.
A few, as with Fluttershy in her attempt to sew together patches of bark, had gone with wood. Fabric simulated the effect for others, and not always well. Rarity winced at the sound of popping stitches, and fought back the urge to go over and assist. Repair. Do something about the literal low-hanging fruit.
Additionally, ponies were primary horizontal creatures. Trees were vertical. This created certain issues, which included having an outfit which was three times taller than the pony who was wearing it. A few attendees were having trouble balancing their costumes (and it had taken Rarity most of a day to solve that), while others had placed planter trays across the small of their backs, planted a living tree in that, and called the matter solved. That group tended to dye their fur dark brown or grass-green, just to help the effect.
They talked. They greeted each other as friends who hadn't seen each other in a year. Some pulled on thin ropes with their mouths, and branches rustled a soft language of return and renewal.
An number of spectators stared. Staring could potentially be the least of it. But others waved a foreleg, acting as if this was all perfectly normal and for them, it was. Shop owners stood in doorways and called out greetings of welcome and welcome back and, because they were shop owners, kicked in a few words about ten percent discounts if you flashed your badge. One bar was proudly posting an advertising sign for Sunrise Cocktails: the sample which had been placed in the window softly glowed. Others offered a chance to rest weary hooves on soft soil...
"They seem... happy to see you," Rarity quietly observed, and wondered how many of her tail curls had just gone straight. "All of you."
"Some are," the holly partially agreed. "Others just got used to us, because we've been coming here for a few years. They know to expect us, and... for the ones who still have problems... we spend a lot of bits here, Rarity. In the end, everypony's bits taste the same."
Lightly of sap.
Except that they'd skipped the sap.
"Is it always trees? Because the height..."
"There's... variants," the holly admitted.
"Such as being in the center of a bush?" asked the designer. "A bush would be easier to manage."
The holly snorted. "Bushies."
"Bushies --"
"They're welcome here," the holly quickly established. "They're part of the community. But I keep waiting for them to grow up. Vertically." Several branches shrugged. "There's all sorts of categories under the Great Canopy."
"So," Rarity lightly tried, "your category would be...?"
Proudly, "Woodies."
"And -- timber wolves? As a sort of mobile plant --"
"-- we don't talk about timber wolves."
Rarity blinked.
"Florals are fine, though," the holly tree added. "Florals never tried to eat anypony's costume for fun. As a pack. So florals weren't banned after The Bite Of '67."
"The --"
"-- it's a long story."
But there was a word which brought the categories together, and the hotel which loomed so large in leaf-obscured sight had put out a giant banner to greet them all.
Canterlot Loves Its Firries!
Welcome To The 9th Annual Evergreen Northwest ConFIRence!
"...firries," Rarity not-so-smoothly Fluttershied.
"It was the first word," the holly told her. "It stuck."
"Evergreen...?"
"More about the group than the actual binomial," her personal escort tree promptly said. "It says we're going to stick around. All the time."
"And the northwest part of the city, yes. But... conFIRence?"
"It's a pun." Several berries drooped. "And... it makes it easier to lie, for the ones who are still in the forest. When you tell somepony that you're going on a trip, and they don't know about this... ponies can hear what they like."
The unicorn was still looking around. Yes, there were the bushes. And that conifer was a very good costume indeed even if the knotholes seemed to be unnecessarily prominent --
-- it was... odd, actually. The majority of costumes were at least trying for accuracy. But some lacked knotholes, when they should have had at least a few. And those with knotholes tended to stick together --
-- and then she saw the masterworks.
She had designed Fluttershy's costume to achieve her friend's original vision: a midsized holly tree. But she had also made sure it was a costume. That at best, it might pass on first glance -- and then the eye would be drawn to the details. Here is how we simulated the leaves. This is the method by which I stitched together the bark, on the fifth attempt. This is the filler, here are the stitches which attach the berries... an illusion meant to deceive for no more than a second, before moving on to the quality of the lie.
The ponies pulling the wheelbarrows up to the front of the hotel were hauling trees. Twinned sequoias. Hardly as tall as the true, but effectively real. A light breeze brought the proper scent to Rarity's snout, a number of confused insects were exploring the bark, and they were being offloaded to rest in front of the building...
"They're amazing, aren't they?" the holly asked.
Rarity managed a nod.
"They make their costumes taller every year."
Again.
"And now they can't move without assistance," the holly added. "Because the costumes weigh too much. And they can't get inside, either. The founders originally picked this place because it has the tallest ceilings of any hotel in the capital. Oh, and because it's got a restaurant called Chloro-Phyl's. They thought that was funny. But it was partially because they knew we'd all have to be capable of moving around inside. And those two can't use the doors now." With open bemusement, "It's been that way for the last three years, and they just keep getting taller anyway..." Portions of the trunk shrugged. "So now they need wheelbarrows. Actually need. Not like the ones who say it's a Stills Choice."
Rarity postponed part of the questioning. "So what do they do here?"
"Stand around outside. And don't move, because they legitimately can't. Living statues. The Hardwood Hardcore. But somepony will come outside every few hours to water them."
"...to..."
"It's that or dehydration," the holly noted. "It gets hot in there."
"...oh."
"But I still fit, so -- let's go inside!" the holly enthused. And went straight for the doors.
Rarity followed. Closely.
Stay with her.
Make sure this isn't hurting her in some way. That nopony hurts her. No tree or bush, for that matter.
...but...
...she seems more -- outgoing.
She's... happy...
"I might see somepony I know eventually," the holly called back. "So I might need a minute to talk. Or more. You're okay with that?"
To talk.
"Yes."
The holly tree -- 'Holly' was, in fact, getting a lot of attention. Firries gazed at her leaves, admired the berries, and asked questions about the bark. Every last one was answered, and the words came without pause or fear. Rarity, who had to remain silent about her part in the matter, simply listened and kept her focus on the environment which surrounded the sign-in line. Quite a bit of that went straight ahead to the sales counter, because she had to keep checking to make sure the price for the Non-Participating Guest Badge hadn't gone up again.
The sign-in area was in the lobby, and the line needed for officially arriving bent back on itself a few times. But there was space off to the sides. Some of that was occupied by tables and ponies nosing over brochures: attempting to recruit attendees for gatherings across the continent. Rarity spotted a sign for West Palm Warmsap and nearly gave up on life right there.
A number of rooms were visible around the edges. One of them announced itself via leafy banner as the Phytotherapy Center.
"Which means...?" Rarity whispered to Holly.
"Medical assistance. Which is mostly dehydration. And muscle strains for the really heavy costumes."
"So what's the Arborist Refuge?" Because multiple attendees were already heading towards it, and that meant most of what Rarity could see was the banner.
"Emergency costume repair. It gets used a lot."
There must be some very interesting supplies in there. All kinds of threads. Fabrics to patch, and dyes to match the colors. Added to structural support.
I should try to see what they've stocked. And what they should be stocking.
I could offer advice. As an expert --
-- she asked me to not --
Several foals were chasing each other around the free space, because waiting in line was boring. Several of the trees watched them, and did so while laughing. Holly giggled.
"Saplings..." the companion tree observed.
"Most of them don't have costumes," Rarity noted. And if there was something present, it was small and light. "They come on their own?" The majority of the children were very young.
"No. With their parents."
"Their --"
Several branches nodded towards the observers.
"Attendees have been coming for years, Rarity," Holly calmly stated. "Their parents met here. There were costumes for pregnant mares. Then they had carrier branches for newborns. And now the foals catch up with friends here. They're mostly here to play, because they're too young to choose the firry life on their own. So we make sure they can play. There's a Sapling Protectorate room, where the best games are. And they go to the hotel's little park. But they only get to attend a few panels, and they're not allowed to enter the Arborbitsum. At all."
The word felt familiar. "The sales area, correct?"
"Yes. Where all the merchandise is."
"How does anypony get through this line?"
Calmly, "We're trees. We stand in one place for a very long time."
Ponies meet here.
Fall in love.
And the results chase each other and laugh.
She's happy.
They reached the sign-in desk. Holly confirmed her registration. Rarity attempted to negotiate her badge cost downwards, found nopony willing to attend common sense (and notree, for that matter), then paid through the nose, snout, ears, and finally shook bits out of equally-pained anatomy until the cashbox had eaten enough.
"So what did you wish to do first?" the unicorn inquired.
"The screening!" her tree friend enthused. "Of the original short! They brought the reel in, Rarity! Of Firry The Tree!"
You had to design a viewing auditorium in interesting ways, when it was hosting trees. Not blocking sight lines for the screen involved some extreme height drops between bench rows. Rarity wondered what the room was normally used for.
The lights went down. The projector at the back began to turn.
Rarity tried to watch. Holly wriggled. Most of the audience deeply sighed in contentment, or rustled accordingly.
"It's one of the first animated films," the tree softly said. (There was a viewing of sorts in progress.) "And it's where we get our name. It's the reason why so many of us are here at all." Reverently, "Isn't it something?"
The exposed unicorn looked at the screen again. A slightly-wriggling sketch of a fir tree occupied most of it.
"Animated," was its very own question.
"Yes," Holly told her. "Of a fir tree, waving its branches in the wind."
"And this is why some of you are here."
"They saw it when they were really young," Holly said. "And something in them was -- awakened."
"What?" felt fully legitimate.
"Well, for a lot of ponies, it was a bunch of questions about why they were being shown something where there was barely any movement. Most of those went into animation, to make things which would move more." Sadly, "Some of them got stuck at Hawthorn-Banyan, so that didn't even work. But for a few of the ponies who saw this the first time... it was all about the tree. The way it was just there. And moving, if only a little. Properly. And... they dreamed."
The lowest branch on the screen twitched.
"It actually created one of the first big divisions in the early fandom," Holly added.
"I haven't seen a bush on the screen yet."
"Movies --"
"-- the first full-length mouthdrawn film," Rarity quickly cut in, "was a mere four years ago --"
"-- versus stills."
"I... don't quite see..."
"You won't see most of the stills here," Holly sadly observed. "The majority of every conference is movies. There's a few stills in wheelbarrows. But the really dedicated ones won't let themselves show up. They say it breaks the role. In letters to the fanzines. Which somepony else probably writes." She thought about that. "Or maybe not. Their mouths still move. A lot."
A green needle dropped. Multiple trees tilted forward as the camera followed it down.
"Oooh!" Holly happily observed. "We reached the action scene!"
There was a pony going by the auditorium exit, very carefully carrying a bonsai tree within her corona.
"Merchandise?" Rarity asked Holly.
"Pet."
Another pony went by. This one had a huge soft fabric simulation of a tree, and it was being carried on a back-mounted silver platter. Plush branches overflowed in all directions.
"And that is..."
"Also a pet."
Rarity tried to say something, and found her entire vocabulary had collectively died.
"You would see a lot of those for sale in the Arborbitsum," Holly told her. "They're easier to cuddle."
They continued to move around the hotel. Function areas had been taken over by fruit groves. A ballroom found trunks slowly swaying from side to side, matching the rhythm of the music.
Rarity was getting some attention, because... most of the ponies were costumed, and she was not. She caught quite a few exposed eyes peering closely at her badge, and she kept having to explain that she wasn't press. Holly's support helped there, because it seemed that just about no reporters ever arrived with a friend.
The costume kept getting compliments. Several attendees asked about who'd designed it. Rarity felt her jaw go tense and considered booking an extra spa session.
Most of what was moving around the open spaces were the smooth-trunked. The knotholes were seldom spotted and when that did happen, it was in pairs or, very rarely, trios. The majority of those sightings took place near the ramps which led to the upper levels, and the natural presumption was that they were going to unpack. Quite a few guests were staying for the weekend, after all. Holly found it easier to commute, and would presumably change back into a cottage-concerned Fluttershy before they reached the train station.
There were dances. Some sort of public readings, although Holly wasn't attending any of those just yet. Art contests. One huge panel room was apparently dedicated to a speech about costume design and maintenance --
"-- come on, Rarity, we're going to be late for the panel --"
"-- I just want to see what kind of needles --"
"-- and there's going to be a line --"
"-- there's over a hundred ponies in there! All present to hear about design --"
"-- and there's going to be over a hundred more for when they do it again tomorrow. The first panel I wanted to attend is only being held today! And there's a line, because there's always a line! So we have to make sure we reach it early enough to still get in!"
The unicorn reluctantly allowed herself to be hustled away.
"A line."
"Yes -- oooh, do you see that spruce up ahead?"
"Yes."
"That's Timber Spruce!"
"...his real name, or his --"
"-- both! He writes botanomorphic stories!"
"Botano --"
"-- he's fir-famous! And he's going to be attending the panel? Maybe if we really hurry, I can talk to him a little before we all go in!"
She's talking to ponies of her own will. Without hesitation or reticence.
"Famous, you said?"
"Yes. Very."
"So," Rarity considered, already beginning to form the plan, "if we -- accompany him, then surely a pony of his stature within the community would be granted a bank of three benches..."
"No," Holly said. "That doesn't happen."
"No? Then whatever is the value of being fir-famous, within a convention of firries?"
"You can stand in any line you like. At the back."
The panel concerned the topic of how to come out as a firry to your family and friends. There were personal testimonials. Sample playlets demonstrated various ways in which events might play out, followed by advice on how to change some of the endings. The audience Q&A session was extensive.
"It's a very good panel," Holly decided.
"Is it?" Rarity had felt the emphasis on the potential negative reactions had been a little too severe --
"I've attended three times."
The Trends In Firdom host was a tall, thin pony with a receding mane. Even his chestnut branches were losing leaves.
"Now, I haven't seen any of this here today," he began. "But I was at the Manehattan grove. And I saw it. An earth pony in a living costume." He carefully ignored the opening rise of the collective murmur. "Ultimate authenticity, right? Because she was actually wearing a tree, which she'd hollowed out just enough to stand within. And her magic kept it alive. But she didn't get the reactions you might have expected. The other earth ponies were angry with her. Because they said the tree just felt weird -- no, the tree felt weird. The tree was not enjoying it. Maybe the hollow could have been healed after, but the poor tree was trying to reconcile the whole 'moving' thing and if this turns into movies vs. stills, I will turn this entire panel to face the room hosting this year's Woodchipper Horror Emporium. Some of you may be considering trying this out. But please... consider the tree. You don't need to go that far. And we're not supposed to harvest living parts, remember? A living whole... it may not be within the letter, but I think it's against the spirit of being a firry." He smiled. "You'd like to be a tree, right? Well, no one said the tree wanted to be you. And besides, with what happens to our bodies after we die, we'll be trees eventually. Or tree nutrients, which is just about as good. Now, do we have any knotholes in the room today?" And waited out the burst of laughter. "Rhetorical question!"
There was a pause for a meal. This was followed by a longer pause to reconcile the fact that the hotel wanted them to pay that much for it.
Secluded areas were offered for eating. Some ponies had to dismantle portions of their costumes to make their mouths fully accessible again. Allotted vacant space in the trunk meant Holly's expression was usually visible, but there wasn't quite enough room to push a snout through. It meant Rarity had to assist her in partial removal, and...
"...I want to ask if you're having fun," Fluttershy softly began, "...but I already know that... this isn't for you. You came because you wanted to make sure I was okay, didn't you? That nopony was taking advantage of me, and nothing bad would happen. That's why you're staying so close. And maybe parts of it are even sort of interesting for you..." Her head dipped. "...maybe we should have done the costume panel... but it's not fun. It's not you. You're not a firry. And you won't ever be."
Rarity took a slow breath. Most of her meal's aroma was pulled into her snout, and she waited for the server to upcharge for it.
"It doesn't mean I don't accept that you are," the unicorn gently offered. "That I don't care about you as much as I did before you told me. Nothing's changed between us. I swear."
The pegasus simply sighed. "...I know. But... it would have been nice to not be the only one. To have that kind of company."
They both ate for a while.
"Where do we go after this"
"...you could go home if you really wanted," Fluttershy offered. "I don't want to feel like I'm just keeping you here..."
Watch over her.
And 'Holly'.
...same difference.
Holly is Fluttershy when she doesn't feel quite as scared.
They accept her here. And she accepts that she has a place.
"I'm here for at least the day," Rarity told her. And possibly the costume panel tomorrow. How were the more casual creators solving the bark problem...? "So. Another panel?"
"...not yet. I was going to attend the Woodwings concert. But that isn't for --" she glanced at the nearest clock "-- two hours. So I guess this is a good time for me to go into the Arborbitsum." And slowly, reluctantly focused on Rarity. "So if you just want to trot into the city for a while and meet me in the lobby later --"
The merchandise sales area. Being browsed by a pony of forever-dubious income. And even when Fluttershy doesn't necessarily need protecting, her budget does.
"I'll go in with you."
The pegasus hesitated.
The hesitation kept on happening.
It had been two hours until the Woodwings concert --
"-- I don't think you should."
"Whyever not?" was only moderately offended. "Have I not managed well enough throughout?"
"...it's a little more... intense in there," Fluttershy tried. "I don't know if you're ready --"
And now 'moderately' only survived in controlled tones. "I am a Bearer. A Ponyville resident. A mare whose friends have been known to occasionally make the scenery explode and somehow, that list begins with Applejack. And then there is the matter of visiting the cottage when some of your other friends are dropping by, which once required trying to get inside while it was still floating upside-down. Whatever is in the Arborbitsum, I can deal with it." And snorted. "Or perhaps just deal. After all, somepony at this gathering must be willing to consider sense regarding their prices."
Fluttershy said nothing.
In the aftermath, Rarity considered that... perhaps her friend had seen it coming. There was a possibility which allowed the pegasus to have recognized everything which would take place, and that aspect might have been searching for the single sentence which would stop it.
Perhaps Holly could have managed that sentence.
But Fluttershy remained silent.
There was a line to get into the Arborbitsum. (There was a line for just about everything. Some lines had lines waiting to get into line. Rarity was dreading having to find a restroom.) But once they were inside...
Tables. Tables, displays, signs, and stock. The sellers were mostly recognizable as ponies, because you needed a fully-exposed mouth (and, for a few, a horn) to package up items and make change. The aisles were wide, the babble was on the loud side, and it would have been just like an impromptu market anywhere if nearly all of the shoppers hadn't been talking trees.
The first thing Rarity spotted for sale was an official cel from Firry The Tree. There would be more in the huge room and if she'd known a little more about the animation creation process, she might have eventually started to wonder if the total added up to more than the actual short.
Multiple sellers were displaying elaborate Plushie Trees. She mentally compared those costs to what Applejack paid for actual saplings, and then found a wall to lean against until the desire to faint went away.
"Stay with me," Holly told her.
"It was just a momentary reeling --"
"-- no, I meant stay with me. Don't go off on your own. Not in here."
Rarity frowned. "Very well..." Except that it wasn't, because she was now starting to feel more than a little insulted. She'd dealt with everything the ConFIRence had kicked at her or rather, dropped onto her back. This was nothing more than merchants. "Did you have something in particular which you were looking for?"
They all reflected each other in ways both large and small. Perhaps that was part of why Holly had started with books.
"So this is botanomorphics," her tree companion explained as Rarity examined the rather green covers of the graphic novels on display. "This is where you really get the variety in the character casting. There's all sorts of divisions in the fandom. But for the stories, it all gets mixed up. Because unless you're a really good artist, too many trees start to look the same."
"And these are stories about plants?" Rarity carefully asked. Because she was fairly certain that the average plant didn't wear a suit jacket and work in an advertising agency, but the redwood on the cover was still late for her shift.
"More that they use plants as shorthoof for personality traits," Honey told her. "So a daffodil is scatterbrained. Weeping willows are sad a lot. And you never want to deal with a Callery Pear because they only have one thing on their mind, and they smell like it too. But they don't get into most of the books. Not this kind, anyway. They have all the knotholes."
"All the --"
"-- so it's another way to tell a story. And sometimes you see a new plant, and have to figure out what kind of personality it should have. That's when the writer has to ask themselves 'What would Mister Botano do, if he was here right now'? I'm sure he'd write an ash or two --"
"-- who?"
"The first firry writer. So it's named after him. But then we got more divisions. Like movies versus stills. That got into the stories, too." Holly's branches shrugged. "Personally, I think it takes a very good writer to make stills work. Characters who can't actually go anywhere need to have very snappy dialogue. And be planted in close proximity. Anyway, this is a compilation group: Papayafeather Press. But some of the writers have their own tables. You'll see them around."
Rarity automatically looked.
"Is that a writer in the far corner? With the crowd around his table?"
"Yes," Holly immediately said. "Don't go over there."
"Fl -- Holly, I am perfectly capable of -- if the story is good -- actually, is there a sort of plant which would operate a pirate ship and kidnap an innocent flower for ransom? Most of our navy is teak, but I'm not sure that's a good fit for a pirate --"
"He writes Bob The Flower."
Rarity pondered that.
"And?"
"It's very violent."
"A. Violent. Flower."
"It's satire," Holly said. "But it's satire with a body count. Rarity, if you really want to try a story, I can recommend --"
"HOLLY"!
They both turned, and spotted a laughing, merry cedar three tables away.
"I thought I saw you!" called out the new tree. "Only I had to look twice! Where did you get the upgrade? Dear Sun, it's been a year and I spent most of today trying to spot you, but we weren't at the same panels..."
"I'm sorry!" Holly laughed. "I should have written you back with my schedule! It's just been... really busy." Apologetically, "With flesh stuff."
"I get it," the cedar replied. "I really do. But now that I've found you..."
Holly slowly, carefully turned to face Rarity.
"Can you give me a few minutes? It's been a year, and..."
Friends we never knew about. A life which none of us suspected.
"Go," Rarity smiled.
"Stay here and browse."
It had been an order, and the unicorn felt her teeth trying to grind.
"...I will be," she finally said, "...shopping."
Holly moved down the aisle. Rarity looked at more book covers. Then she looked around. And at the moment she judged her companion tree's attention to be fully engaged, she slipped away.
As it turned out, pirate trees were represented by junipers. There was probably somepony at the ConFIRence who could explain that.
Rarity took the chance, collected the purchased book, and then deposited it within her saddlebags: several cloth patches were pushed aside to make space. Wandered further back in the huge room, switched aisles and made sure she could still see a portion of the holly tree. Watching for when it started to move.
...there are a lot of very tall trees in here. Mostly blocking the view.
I should have made her trunk higher.
The berries. Color focus was easier.
Further back...
...and here we have a few plushies. Mortgage the Boutique and I can consider taking one home.
More trees went by. A seldom-seen trunk distortion caught her attention.
So this is where the knotholes went? At least this one --
-- and another...
They seem to be migrating towards the back.
Towards that... curtain which blocks off the rear of the Arborbitsum.
The high-rent district, no doubt. (Although the existence of the plushies begged the question of what 'high rent' could possibly mean.) They may charge an extra admission fee just to look. And given our collective budget for this excursion --
-- she was still looking in the direction of the curtain and so when the distant, fabric-adjacent seller adjusted the position of the display merchandise, it flashed a new kind of gem light into Rarity's eyes.
She blinked. Stared, tried to make out the details of a stone she'd never seen before, all deep reds and browns and beauty, ignited her horn and found that her personal spell could sense nothing --
-- and then she was on the gallop, weaving between startled trees, trying to reach her inspiration --
Petrified wood.
She'd never known it could be rendered so beautiful.
The seller called them 'pins'. Mere adornments for costumes. Brighter spots against the bark. All Rarity saw was highly-polished, well-shaped, fully-organic gems which came in multiple shapes, a full flashing rainbow crossing the darker portions of the spectrum, and she could adjust her thread support cradles on the dresses to take a different weight, the sheer variety of new colors was opening up so many possibilities and she needed her sketchbook, she needed to find a quiet place to rest and start working on all of it, but what she needed more than anything else right now was a supply.
She asked how much they were. Then she established that she was looking for bulk, negotiated for a time (which, for Rarity, meant haggling a pony out of their socks and when the lower part of differently-hued leg fur sprang off to escape the process, it meant things were going rather well), and then asked how much now.
The designer collected what she could, verified the address for the upcoming mail order, turned away from the stunned seller with a happy smile on her features, and nearly went into a passing, heavily-knotholed baobab.
The natural instinct was to dodge, and so she did.
She dodged through the curtain.
There was no moment of perfect silence. The Arborbitsum was far too busy for that. Instead, there was simply an instant in which a single mare saw all of it and took the kind of breath which depleted most of the local atmosphere, making it that much harder for sound to travel.
Then it all came back out at once.
"SPLINTERS!"
By the time Holly crashed through the curtain, the unicorn was standing within a patch of empty space, being watched by terrified knotholes as she reared up over and over again, overwide blue eyes staring in all directions.
Staring at everything which was for sale, on the dark side of the curtain.
There were pillows. They could be called pillows, in that the intention was probably to press a head against them for sleeping support. Or a whole body. The typical base material came from long, soft, and presumably sensuous bags of mulch. They were mostly in the shape of treetrunks, and the honey locust style came with authentic thorns.
Artwork was available. The branches of the depicted trees came in rather distinctive shapes. This was also where the vines began to get involved and, after a few framed samples, also started to animate. None of that was coming to a reel near any cinema, but it was definitely going to be coming somewhere. Also, some of the trees had extra parts. It was just barely possible to reconcile the tongues. The rest of it begged a few questions about artist sanity, a number regarding the nature of pornography, and finished with a surprising quantity concerning sap pressure. It was art which suggested intent, then outright stated desire, and finished by mugging the eyes and sticking petrified wood in the sockets because that was something else which was permanently stiff.
There were (extremely) graphic novels. On the most technical level, they could have been said to concern tree reproduction. Only they had rather less plot than a botany text, which took some doing. Also, trees didn't reproduce like that.
The artwork depicted branches in distinctive shapes. The woodwork reproduced most of them --
"SPLINTERS!"
-- and hadn't bothered with all that much smoothing along the way.
"Rarity!" her companion tree immediately begged. "Rarity, please try to calm down, you're scaring --"
"What is this? Do they like it rough?" A shaking forehoof managed to point at the less subtle woodwork just before crashing down again: most of the effort involved was in picking out the less subtle.
"It's the knothole section! I told you: there's a lot of divisions! This is why they come here! Because they can shop, and meet other knotholes --"
"AND WHAT DO THEY DO WITH OTHER KNOTHOLES?"
Holly, seeing no other choice, made the next mistake. She told her.
"WITH THE COSTUMES ON?"
Desperately, "That's what the knotholes are for --"
All four hooves slammed into the floor.
"Multiple knotholes," said a unicorn on the edge of sanity. "Per tree. Going up the ramp in pairs, or trios --"
"We're all here for different reasons!" Holly protested. "For me, it's the social aspects of being a tree!"
"Which are?"
Quickly, "There's less responsibility, you don't have to talk so much, and animals still show up. That's why I'm Holly. I'm a nesting tree." The speech rate was continuing to accelerate. "But ponies can still take shelter under my canopy. Unless there's lightning, because that's just stupid. And they can talk to me if they want to. Even in pairs. But no making out, because some ponies say there's a scent which comes off the skin and trees can supposedly pick up on that. I don't want to drop berries on anypony because I don't feel like watching." Thoughtfully, "And it's also Holly because I'd rather not be a tree with edible fruit. I thought about it. I don't want Applejack kicking me."
Several of the knotholes were nodding agreeably.
"Social's fine," a mare voice said. "It's just not us, you know? It can still be her." And peered more closely. "Too bad. She's got great leaves. Who did your leaves?"
None of it had stopped Rarity, whose coat was now damp with the beginning of froth. "-- and then there is this, all of this, everything here and that is only what I can see! Fluttershy, I am trying to accept, UNDERSTAND --"
A knothole automatically glanced at Holly's badge. The resulting offended gaze moved directly to Rarity's face.
"Hey," the concealed stallion cautioned. "Careful with the meatname."
"-- but I am not part of this, any part, I can care about you and love you whether you're a firry or not, I can help to perfect your costume because I do love you, but I am simply a DESIGNER --"
The entire grove heard the word.
They reacted.
They always did.
It was the same reaction every time.
And Rarity wasn't ready for it.
"-- you are?"
"-- did you do those sweet berries?"
"-- how are you with simulated roots?"
"-- what was the build time on that? Needle thickness on the bark sewing? Are you going to host any panels?"
And from at least six of them, all at once:
"DO YOU TAKE COMMISSIONS?"
The unicorn's mouth fell open.
And then she fainted.
Several trees tried to get a pillow under her head. The fourth chose the wrong one.
It was a beautiful, slightly cool autumn day, and the designer's shop was full of those who were getting an early start on both the winter party season and Hearth's Warming gifts. Rarity busied herself about the sales floor, answered questions, wrapped a few purchases, and took note of the moment when a new mare trotted in. Somepony she'd never seen before: a tall, confident earth pony with a ready smile and a willowy build.
The newcomer approached, with every strand of fur radiating the happiness of simply being in the Boutique.
"Sheerwood sent me," the mare pleasantly stated. "When you've got a minute."
Rarity nodded, and her corona went for a fresh notebook. The mare browsed for a while, waiting until the shop's owner was fully available. Measurements were taken, needs were carefully described, payment was nosed over, and the sales day went on until Moon was raised.
Rarity fed her cat. Made herself a quick dinner, and then ventured into the basement.
Most of Ponyville didn't know the Carousel Boutique had a basement. Rarity was still putting off the day when they also learned what was in it.
She went to her rack of wood samples. Sorted through it until she found the birch, then took it to the new worktable. A moment was taken to clear off a creation-in-progress, because Fluttershy would have another ConFIRence the following summer. Rarity was working on updating the look for somepony she loved, and fully understanding the pegasus wasn't a prerequisite for that love. She suspected Fluttershy didn't really understand Rarity either, and Holly was probably at a complete loss.
(She was not crazy. She just vented. A lot.)
But the assistance with the heavier orders was still welcome. Although not as much as the companionship.
She began to color-match the wood against fabrics.
Off-white. Some rough patches, by design. Keep it fairly flexible.
Some of her work had already debuted in smaller groves, to great effect and frequent referrals -- because as it turned out, those who were willing to expend so many bits on a bonsai plushie were willing to kick away considerably more for a good costume.
A minimum of five petrified wood gems.
That was just her signature. And she'd been invited to host a panel, but -- that might require another costume. One for her own form. As Rarity saw it, she was on the outskirts of the forest, and wasn't quite ready to publicly admit that she was feeding into any part of the root system. Some degree of coverage might be necessary.
And at least two knotholes.
It was a strange world. It took all kinds to make it so.
She's adventurous. She said so.
So possibly three.
But once you discounted the tiny hint of sap... the bits all tasted the same.
