Sunset’s room was empty. It always was.
Not in the sense of being literally void; there was a bed, a dresser, a nightstand, and a lamp, along with a backpack haphazardly slumped against a wall and a cheap laptop – one of her few possessions from before coming to the doorstep of her new home – plugged into an outlet. It indeed met the basic functions of a “living space.”
And not in the sense that Sunset was never in the room; some days, she almost never left beyond essential needs, wiling away the hours intermittently napping and doing some basic research on the world through the internet – a resource Rarity had strongly discouraged her from relying on, but had been unable to stop her from glomming onto. She wasn’t in the room right then, but that was beside the point.
What made the room empty, Rarity mused as she and Sweetie Belle took a quick peek inside from the doorway, was the complete and total lack of decoration.
Rarity’s own room, from her lovely circular-patterned rug to the diamond shapes encrusted along the sides of her doorframe, was an expression of herself. It was her space, her private refuge, and that meant every part of that space should reflect that. To live in such plain, drab conditions as these was anathema to her; no matter the size of the room, it would have felt like sleeping in a janitorial closet, and she would have found herself physically compelled to put something, anything, up in order to assuage that nagging sense of emptiness.
Sunset, however, had not only not requested any kind of personalization for her room, she’d removed what few generic decorations had been on the walls from before her arrival, when it had served as a space for visiting family. It was utterly bleak, and Rarity felt deeply discomforted to look upon it.
Rarity knew Sunset more than well enough by now to know she simply wasn’t so dull and hollow as to actually want this void of a living space. Yet she kept it that way, and Rarity had a sneaking suspicion as to why.
Sweetie Belle, whose room was in a rather sorry state itself as far as Rarity was concerned, didn’t seem particularly phased by it, though she was certainly peeved by the lack of occupant. “Seriously? Where is she?”
“Sweetie, dear, she’s around here somewhere.”
The pouty preteen stamped her feet. “She promised! Where is she? Why isn’t she ready?”
Rarity sighed. “The stars aren’t going anywhere right this instant.”
“Yes they are! That’s the whole point of stargazing! And I thought you said Sunset wanted to do stuff with us… what kind of sister breaks a promise like that?”
“Sweetie Belle!” Rarity whirled on her. “She hasn’t broken anything! We just haven’t found her yet. That’s all.”
Sweetie Belle’s eyes narrowed into a sustained glare in the face of Rarity’s reaction. “Fine. Still wish I could’ve invited Scootaloo…”
Rarity restrained herself from an eye-roll. “You’ll get to see plenty of that little hellion tomorrow, I’m sure.” She’d be very grateful to learn Sweetie’s budding interest in stargazing had developed independently of her two closest friends; the last thing anyone needed was for that trio to be spending their nights together as well as days. Apple Bloom’s interest in music videos was producing some rather… unique contributions to the field, and Rarity was having to put in overtime discouraging Sweetie Belle from following Scootaloo onto social media.
Stepping back into the hallway, Rarity noticed a glint of light; peering further, she could see it was emanating from Sunset and Sweetie Belle’s shared bathroom, across the hall from the latter’s bedroom.
Sweetie Belle could see it too. “Is she in there?” She groaned. “She always takes forever…”
Rarity breathed “Just… go downstairs and get set up outside. I’ll handle Sunset, okay?”
Her little sister grimaced.
“Okay?”
“...Fine. But she better hurry.” And she turned and headed down the stairs in a peeved huff. Rarity watched for a moment before turning back and walking through the hall.
Stopping in front of the bathroom door, Rarity hesitated to push it open. It was cracked, not fully closed, meaning Sunset almost certainly wasn’t on the toilet right then. She didn’t think for an instant Sunset was doing anything alarming, certainly not dangerous – anytime she wasn’t wearing her leather jacket, her short-sleeve shirts made it clear she had nothing to hide – but the long stays in the room that Sweetie had complained about had definitely become concerning.
Just a few weeks earlier, on a camping trip with some of the Apples, Sunset had confided some of her deep-rooted struggles to Rarity, lamenting how her life in her old home had been destroyed by her insistent belief in her own great destiny – a belief that had since mutated into horror, as she became convinced she was doomed to become a monster. Rarity had snapped her out of it, insisting that she reject that twisted conception of her fate and learn to embrace her new life. But that was easier said than done, even with her efforts to show support.
For it was not an ordinary orphan girl her family, at Rarity’s insistence, had chosen to adopt (informally, at this stage, as Hondo and Cookie tried to figure out exactly how to handle Sunset’s legal status or lack thereof given a total lack of documentation) – Sunset Shimmer was, in a very literal sense, a lost unicorn from another world, stranded alone in a body and dimension that differed so sharply from the reality she’d known that she’d nearly sunk under its weight, before Rarity pulled her back up.
It was a recipe for some heavy reflection, at the very least.
And bathrooms have mirrors.
“Sunset? I’m coming in.”
“...okay.”
Rarity nudged the door open, wincing from the harsh lighting, and, indeed, found Sunset Shimmer, leaning forward with her leather jacket-clad elbows resting on the left side of the bathroom countertop, staring directly into her reflection. She didn’t react as Rarity stepped inside, mimicking her position on the other side of the sink.
Carefully avoiding her own reflection, Rarity kept her eyes trained on Sunset’s. The redhead’s eyes were downcast, only occasionally glancing up to look at her own image – and not at Rarity’s. There was an obvious moroseness in her expression, a visible turmoil that was often present in her face, but usually in a much more subtle, guarded way.
Here, pain was on full display.
Rarity steeled herself and took the plunge. “How… ah, how long have you been in here?”
Sunset audibly sighed. “A little while. I… I didn’t come in here just to stare, but, um, when I was washing my hands, I looked up and…” Her eyes finally trailed over to Rarity’s image.
“It happens,” Rarity replied with a nod. “Sometimes I catch myself looking a little too intently for anything off with my appearance.”
“Yeah, but, um…” She swallowed, looking back to her side again. Her closed fists opened up, waggling her fingers before beginning to drum them on the countertop. “For me, that’s literally everything.”
Rarity blinked. “You mean–”
“I mean a lot of things, Rarity. I’ve, well, never really had a great relationship with mirrors.”
“So I’ve heard,” Rarity noted, recalling the story of her exit from the pony world. “I can assure you there’s nothing magical about the mirrors in this household, barring their uncanny ability to show me a nightmarish face anytime I first look at mine every morning.”
Sunset snorted. “Nightmarish? Really?”
“Utterly hideous.” She flashed a quick smile. “But that’s reflections for you, I suppose. And yours–”
“It’s not mine, Rarity.”
“Pardon?”
Sunset turned to face her, the real her, and Rarity followed, finally meeting her sister’s eyes. “That,” she said, pointing at the mirror, “isn’t my reflection.”
Oh. Right.
For as fantastical and extraordinary of a backstory as it was, Rarity found it was surprisingly easy to forget that being a unicorn really meant being a unicorn.
“I–” Sunset glanced back in the mirror for a moment, before tearing her eyes away and looking down. “I’m looking as hard as I can, but… I don’t see me. I don’t know how I could see me in this body.” She lifted her eyes to meet Rarity’s, and they looked helpless. “It’s wrong. It’s all wrong.”
Rarity nodded again. “And I suppose that Sweetie Belle’s offer to make a papier-mâché horn for you is not the remedy you’re searching for.”
A soft laugh. “No, not really.”
Rarity motioned to the back of the room. “Shall we sit down?”
Sunset looked backwards. “Oh, um, sure? I’ll just, uh…” She stepped over into the far side of the bathroom, where the toilet and bathtub were situated, and sat down on the closed lid of the former, while Rarity followed and sat on the side of the latter. Not the most dignified seats for a pair of respectable ladies, but they would have to do for now.
“Is there somewhere you’d like to start?” Rarity asked.
“Not really, but I know you won’t let me get away with that.”
“You’re quite correct.”
Sunset grimaced, then glanced toward the doorway. “Isn’t Sweetie Belle waiting for us?”
Rarity met Sunset’s frown with her own. “As pleased as she’ll be to learn that you indeed remembered your promise, I can assure you that we have time. This is important.”
“I guess so.” She paused, clearly pondering. “I think… maybe I’m just upset.”
Rarity tilted her head. “Because?”
Sunset winced, looking away. “Because I… um…”
“I’m listening.” Rarity reached out and placed a hand on Sunset’s knee, only for her sister to draw it away, surprising her. “Sunset?”
“Because this is starting to feel normal.”
The silence hung heavy as the words registered in Rarity’s ear. Sunset shuddered, exhaling deeply, before she slowly looked up and met her eyes once more.
And just waited, that helpless expression back in full force, for a response.
It came in the form of three simple words. “And that’s… bad.”
“It’s… scary, at least.” Her head started to drift away again. “I’m sure that’s not what you want to hear.”
“Sunset, please look at me.”
Her sister’s eyes widened, and she slowly complied.
“This isn’t about me. I’m not asking you about this because I want to feel comfortable. I just… you really opened up to me, that day when we were camping, and I don’t want that to stop. I want you to trust me, to know that I’m still listening, that I’m here to help. Like any sister should.”
Rarity reached out her hand again, and this time Sunset didn’t pull the knee away.
“So just… tell me what you need me to hear, not what I want to hear.”
Sunset nodded. “You’re right. Thanks… sis.” The word was still very clearly unnatural in her mouth, but she was getting there.
“Now, then,” Rarity said as she withdrew, “tell me about what ‘normal’ means to you.”
“Just, well, being able to look in the mirror and see what I expect to see. Which, for me… in this body, it shouldn’t be possible. Because this isn’t my–” She cut herself off.
“It’s not your pony body.”
Sunset shook her head. “It’s not. My body is strong, it’s powerful. I could do almost anything. I had all the magic in Equestria in the tip of my horn, and I knew how to use it better than anyone. When I looked in a mirror – not just that mirror, any mirror – I could see me, I could see that strong, important pony, the princess-in-training, my dest–” Her eyes widened, and another sentence came to a screeching halt.
All was quiet.
There was another breath as Sunset slowly lifted her right arm, holding it horizontally for Rarity to behold. “This body is weak. I’ve been in it long enough to know how to use it, and I’m grateful for everything you and y–” she caught herself again, as her arm fell back to her side “–and our family has done to help. But it’s just a vessel. Nothing but the physical. Even though I rarely wore clothes in Equestria the way I do here… I feel more naked than ever. Vulnerable. Weak.
“But then, these last few weeks, I’ve been coming in here, passing by this thing every day, and, so many times, I didn’t even notice. I didn’t realize that I’m in this body, not mine. And when that hit me, just now, I froze. Just…” She gulped. “Just stared, wondering how I could have come to accept this as me.
“I shouldn’t feel normal like this. I shouldn’t be able to look in the mirror and expect this.” Her voice trembled. “I can accept that you’re my human family. That I live with humans. But I’m not human. I’m a unicorn. And I’m, well, scared of what it means that I can walk in and out of a bathroom, passing a mirror each way, and not even thinkabout the fact it’s not my reflection looking back at me. It’s not fair. I shouldn’t be able to get used to this. Not ever.”
Her lip quivered, and Rarity noticed something glinting under her left eye before she rubbed it away. Her breathing was quick, and her hands were balled into tight fists – knowing the length of Sunset’s nails, Rarity winced.
Slowly, Rarity stood up, walking just past her sister to the mirror, where Sunset had been standing before. Sunset’s head, hung low with her eyes trained on the floor, didn’t move. Rarity finally let herself look at her own reflection, scanning up from her black skirt and lilac blouse up to her eggshell face and the violet hair draped over it.
“Darling,” Rarity began, “I’m not going to insult you by pretending I can fully relate to your experience. I’ve only had one body, after all. But, if nothing else, I can understand that feeling of, well, apathy, and what it means when you become aware of it. Because sometimes it’s easy to just get used to the way you look or feel, and not think about what it actually means. Believe it or not, I was actually quite inconsiderate of how I looked, until rather recently.”
Sunset looked over, surprise evident on her face. “You? How?”
Rarity smirked. “It does seem rather absurd, doesn’t it?”
“Not just from knowing you now, but, I mean, I’ve seen pictures of you from just a few years ago!”
“Well,” Rarity replied, looking over at Sunset, “in fairness, it wasn’t always consistent. Sometimes I’d have little urges to work on my appearance, for a photo or function or whatnot. But in general, learning how to design clothing meant I was often looking at, well, images of gorgeous models. And once I got it into my head that I simply couldn’t ever hope to look as good as them – yes, I know, but I was young and impressionable – I just got into the habit of ignoring how I felt when I looked in the mirror. Just doing the bare minimum to look acceptable, and that was all. Beauty was a thing for me to craft for others, but couldn’t hope to achieve for myself. So I ignored that there were obviously feelings about myself I needed to deal with head-on, and instead, for a few years, just went through each day and accepted it. Until, one day, I couldn’t do that anymore.”
Sunset blinked, absorbing. “That’s…”
“Awful, I know. I’m not exactly telling you about this because I’m proud of it. But that’s what I mean by apathy. Just learning to pass by the mirror and be numb to yourself, and decide that there’s no point in caring about how you want to look because it can’t be what you think it’s supposed to be.”
Sunset nodded. “I think I’m getting it. And… I’m really sorry that you went through that.”
Rarity gave a slight shrug. “Well, it was a learning experience, and sometimes those are hard, as I’m sure you well know. It’s not one I’d wish on anyone else.”
“So, um…” Sunset stammered. “What changed, for you? To make it so you, I guess, cared again?”
“A lot of things, really.” Rarity turned back to her reflection. “A little bit of maturity, knowing how to set appropriate standards for myself; a little bit of concern from friends, with how casually I would joke about my face looking ugly without it actually being a joke; and a little bit of simply recognizing that my reflection had become unbearable, and that I needed to take charge of myself. I do wish I had a cleaner answer for you, Sunset, truly.” She turned back to look at her. “But I do think it’s a good thing, that you recognize you don’t feel the way you want to when you look at yourself. It means we can confront that feeling, and I hope you know I’m happy to help, in any way I can. I can’t get your unicorn body back, but that shouldn’t mean that this body” –she reached over and grasped Sunset’s arm– “should be something that you simply exist in.”
She gently pulled, and Sunset instinctively stood up. Rarity opened her arms wide in invitation for a hug, and found that invitation accepted gratefully.
“I know you think this world isn’t where you truly belong,” Rarity said as she wrapped her arms around her sister. “And that maybe, in the end, this will all be just a temporary stop on your way back to Equestria.”
“I–”
“Sunset, I’ve seen your room. Your empty room. No one leaves a room that drab unless they don’t think it’s theirs. Decorating it would risk telling yourself you belong there. As would recognizing yourself in this body.”
A sniffle. “I’m sorry. Really, I– I’m sorry.”
Rarity drew back, putting her hands on Sunset’s shoulders as the redhead glumly looked into her eyes once more. “I’m not trying to judge you. I’m just worried because, to me, it seems like you’re afraid of accepting your life here, of letting it become real. But this body is real, just like your room is real, and your family is real.” She paused, making sure Sunset nodded before continuing. “Remember what I said at that sunrise on the rocks, about learning to be a human? This is that. Maybe this isn’t the body you know, but right now, it is yours.
“And maybe together, we can make it one you can have as much love for as your other one.”
Sunset laughed softly, pulling back her arms and looking at them again. “That’s a funny way of thinking about it. My other body.”
Rarity smiled. “Well, why not? You yourself said that you’ll be able to, well…” She swallowed, pushing away the implications. “That you’ll be able to go back someday. So that body’s not truly gone, is it? You’re just in this one right now. And there’s not a lot of people – or ponies either, I imagine – who can say they’ve had two bodies.”
She watched as her sister mirrored her smile. “I guess that’s true. Huh.”
“And with that in mind, it would hardly make sense to spend your time in this body simply longing for your other one, right?”
Sunset stood still, head apparently in thought. She looked down at her hands, curling and uncurling her palms. She looked back up, and, in short order, embraced Rarity again.
Rarity hugged her back.
“Thank you, sis. Really.”
“Anytime.” She beamed. “And I’ll inform Sweetie Belle not to make that horn for you. Knowing her, I’m sure it would have somehow turned out spherical.”
They both descended into giggles at the thought, their hug remaining unbroken.
After a moment, Sunset spoke. “Speaking of Sweetie Belle–”
“Oh, now you two remember me?”
Sunset stumbled backwards at the sound, her and Rarity both turning to look at the source of the noise – a fuming tween staring daggers into them from the doorway.
“Sweetie, dear,” Rarity’s silky voice cooed, “we were just at the end of an important discussion–”
“More important than your promises?”
To Rarity’s surprise, Sunset suddenly stepped forward, kneeling down to bring her head level with Sweetie Belle’s. It seemed to catch Sweetie off guard as well, her expression reshaping into one of confusion as she shifted her gaze to her newer sibling.
“Hey, you’re right,” Sunset said. “Your promise is important, and I’m sorry it’s been taking me a while. I just, well, needed a little bit of help understanding something, before I could keep it.”
“Understanding what?”
“Umm…” Sunset glanced at Rarity for a moment, before turning back to Sweetie Belle. “That it’s always gonna be a little strange that I’m here, and I can’t just pretend that it isn’t, but, well, that doesn’t mean that I can’t still be me here, even if it’s not what I’m used to.”
Rarity smiled. She’s getting it.
At the same time, Sweetie Belle blinked, then scoffed. “Pffft! I could’ve told you that! And I would’ve been way quicker! Now let’s goooooo, the stars are moving and there might be clouds soon!”
As Sweetie Belle tugged at her arm, the redhead got to her feet, then turned her head and motioned. Rarity obligingly followed as they left the room, both calm and contented in their stride even as Sweetie urged them to get a move on.
Sweetie had set up a blanket for the three of them to sit on just off the edge of the cobblestone patio. She was in the middle, Sunset laying on her right and Rarity to her left, as she excitedly pointed out every shape made by the innumerable stars in the sky, on an unusually clear night for this world.
Sunset had always found constellations a rather silly concept, perhaps with some utility in navigation but by and large a nonsensical means of arranging celestial bodies that were nowhere near each other. But, even with so much on her mind, Sunset did take some time to simply listen, and bathe in the infectious joy of her new little sister as she elaborated on every detail stored in her head.
It was a very different night sky, after all, a notion reinforced as her eyes looked upon the moon above, free of any equine-shaped blemishes. Her attempts at online research about the celestial bodies of this universe had proved overwhelming, with so much seemingly known about what lay beyond the boundaries of the world that trying to make sense of it had been a struggle. For now, she was happy to listen as Sweetie explained it in her own way.
Sunset wondered what it was about this world that made her more receptive to having things explained to her.
In Equestria, she would have reacted to a talk like Rarity’s with an exceptional amount of mocking laughter and a warning to stay out of her way, and the content therein would have been granted less thought than she’d have afforded to a bird perched upon the statue of Discord. Yet here, she’d listened to every word intently, absorbing them all as though they were from an ancient tome of lost spells she’d found hidden in the bowels of the Royal Canterlot Library’s restricted section. A part of her was still revolted at the idea of giving her words any consideration at all.
Thankfully, that voice was fainter than ever.
She sighed as she gazed up at the sky. It was funny, in a way. In their last conversation, Princess Celestia had asserted that Sunset’s next assignment would be to make friends, as an important step towards her own self-discovery. Now, she’d found a family, with at least one member utterly determined to ensure Sunset’s true self could shine forth brightly.
In a sense, she was overachieving on yet another of the Princess’s assignments.
Her thoughts drifted off to her room. Her dull, dreary room. She’d need time to think about exactly how to overhaul it. Plants might be a start; she’d had a few in her room in the castle, good for thinking as well as visual appeal. A calendar would certainly make sense as well. More lighting couldn’t hurt. And maybe some framed photos… Big Mac had taken some lovely ones on their little camping excursion, including some of her and Rarity. Maybe one of those?
Would Rarity find that odd? She’d have to think more about it later.
She stretched out her right arm and, spreading her fingers apart, dragged her hand through the grass, the blades slipping between her digits and rubbing against them. Then she pressed her hand into the dirt below. The words she’d use to describe the feeling against her skin were escaping her, if she’d ever learned them in the first place.
She closed her hand into a fist, scooping up the soil and ripping out some grass blades in the process. Lifting it up, she then opened her palm, watching as the dirt fell through. She pinched one of the torn bits of grass between her fingers, sliding it up and down, memorizing the texture.
Tilting her hand, she let them go, and giggled a little as she waggled her fingers in the air, shaking off the remaining dirt. It was such a bizarre, alien sensation, yet not uncomfortable. Almost–
“Sunset, are you even listening to me?”
Sunset blinked, hand clamping shut and arm retracting back to her side as she rolled over to face Sweetie. “Sorry! I just got a little distracted. Can you go back?”
“Ugh, fiiiine.” She pointed toward a grouping almost directly overhead. “Anyway, like I was saying, that one over there is…”
And Sunset smiled as she followed her sister’s arm up to the infinite universe that lay before her.
