“Oh, hello, Rarity,” the cream coloured unicorn greeted just as her husband was fiddling with his tie.
“Good evening, Mister and Missus Blizzard.” The white teen unicorn nodded in greeting. Judging by the carriage near the front door, she had arrived not a moment too soon.
“I’m sorry we can’t stay for long, dear; it seems we misread our tickets. We need to get going right now.” Mrs Blizzard gave that tie a rough tug with her magic, getting a near choke hold on her husband.
“That’s quite alright. Mustn’t be late for the opera, after all.”
Mrs. Blizzard rolled her eyes at her slow husband as he was struggling to get such a trivial luxury as oxygen, before turning to the foalsitter.
“There is plenty of food in the fridge, there’s some videos to watch, just make sure Waiwai gets to bed before nine. He can stay up a little later than that, but only if he behaves. And make sure he doesn’t fall asleep on the couch, you don’t want to have to carry him to bed.”
Rarity nodded, shaking the contents of her saddlebags just a tad.
“Duly noted. Anything I need else I need to know about little Waiwai?” Rarity coyly asked, knowing full well the boy’s parents would sugar-coat his reputation.
Both unicorns stopped for a moment, grimacing.
“He gets upset quite easily. He’s not quite as lively as some of the other foals his age,” the tan stallion explained quietly. “He won’t give you any trouble, though.”
Missus Blizzard anxiously checked her watch.
“Honey, we really must be going. Waiwai! You be good to Rarity now!”
“I will, mom!” a colt called from upstairs. A slight thud seemed to indicate he was busy with something clumsy. His parents didn’t pay it any heed, so it was probably nothing out of the ordinary.
“Good night, son!” the stallion called out before both went out the door.
Rarity took a moment to watch them as they bolted towards the carriage as fast as their formal attire would allow.
There she was, an aspiring fashion icon in her teens, a unicorn with a talent for finding the beauty in things, on a foalsitting job. Not that she minded the position, of course, but getting a summer job was a bit redundant when one had mastery over a spell that could find precious gems. Of course, Rarity was no different from any other fifteen-year-old filly. Sure, she could just sell some gemstones to get the money she needed. Certainly, she was more than capable of holding her own in a dress-making atelier, but nevertheless foalsitting is what she wound up doing tonight. The reason for that – and the meaning of the word ‘reason’ was being stretched to its limits in this regard – could be summarised in two words. Two simple words that had always been and always would be the bane of every teenager’s existence.
Mother insisted.
She took in her surroundings, as she always did when in a strange place. The front door led straight to a little den on the left: a sunken floor with couches and some beanie bags lined up in front of a TV, a fireplace just a little further away. Moving along she could see the living room table, as well as the open door to the kitchen, bright tiles contrasting with the rustic interior. Completing the circle, a set of stairs to her right went up, presumably to the bedrooms.
“Are they gone yet?” A colt’s voice snapped her out her reverie.
Rarity floated her saddlebags to a nearby couch and went towards the source of the voice. She took a deep breath to steady herself. After hearing what she had from her little sister, she was all set to put on her strictest face and exert some rigid discipline on what must be a budding miscreant of a colt.
The foal came down the stairs, slowly, gingerly. He eyed his foalsitter in confusion. She eyed him in confusion.
Not quite what she was expecting…
“So that makes Cheerilee, Pinkie Pie, Inkie Pie, Blinkie Pie, Flitter, Cloudchaser and Cloud Kicker,” Common Sense summed up. “The Blizzards are desperate for another foalsitter, and honestly I think a unicorn might be best.”
“Mother, as much as I sympathise for two of the leading cultural critics of today, I still don’t see why you said I’d do it,” Rarity complained.
That awkward moment right before dinner was the worst time of day for her. It was always the moment when her mother decided everything would be ‘well done’, a euphemism for ‘high in charcoal contents’. It was also the moment when her mother decided to have a friendly chat, usually to get her to do something that went against every fibre of her being.
“Oh, come now, it’s not like you can’t get along with little children, eh? You’ve never had any trouble with Sweetie Belle,” the pink mare said in that appalling accent Rarity had somehow managed to purge from her system.
“Denying a problem does not imply absence thereof, mother. She is my sister and I love her dearly, but there are limits. I do not get along well with little children, especially little terrors like that Waiwai.”
“Really now, Waiwai is not a terror. He’s only a little boy.”
“Who are you talking about?” Sweetie Belle trotted in as dinner was passing the boiling point and entering the realms of pyrolysis.
“Waiwai, the Blizzards’ son,” Rarity replied. “Mother wants me to foalsit him.”
“Oh.” Sweetie Belle sat down at the table. “That jerk. You should sit on him, he’s a big meanie.”
As Common Sense called her husband for another scarcely recognisable dinner, her youngest daughter’s opinion unheard, Rarity raised an eyebrow at her mother. As much as she -- and everypony else, for that matter -- knew never to argue with Common Sense, she always wound up trying.
“Well, if he’s not a little terror, how do you think he’s managed to get through so many foalsitters in less than two months?”
“It’s nothing to do with him, I’m sure.”
“Yeah, it is!” Sweetie Belle shouted with a pound on the table for emphasis. “That big bully ruins rehearsal for us every time!”
It finally dawned on the teen unicorn that her little sister and the pony she’d be foalsitting shared the lead in a local school play: ‘The Princess of the Golden Apple Grove and the Guardian of Night’. She hadn’t heard her sister complain about her counterpart yet, though.
“And what exactly does he do then, Sweetie Belle?”
“He just thinks he’s better than me ‘coz he’s got his cutie mark already. He’s always pulling pranks on everypony and he won’t play his part right. He won’t hold hooves with me and he’s probably gonna chicken out of the last scene, because he’s afraid to kiss me,” the six-year-old filly (six and a half, as she never got tired of reminding everyone) ranted.
Rarity offered a sympathetic smile. As annoying as the little foal could be, Rarity couldn’t stand the thought of her little sister being unhappy or made to feel bad by some insensitive colt. He probably meant nothing by it.
"Have you tried asking him why he does all those things? Has your teacher punished him for anything?"
“No, no one ever punishes him. He gets away with everything and he never says why he doesn't want to hold hooves with me. I guess he just thinks I’m ugly.”
To that, Rarity stealthily gritted her teeth.
Unacceptable.
The unicorn colt stood sheepishly in front of the teen. He wasn’t anything out of the ordinary: seven or eight years old, about the same as her sister. He had his father’s coffee brown coat, and little black edges around his ears. His mane was short and dark grey, while his tail was the same grey with yellow at the edges. His eyes were a dark blue, and all in all he looked just a tad shaky. He wasn’t particularly fat or lanky. He looked quite normal, except for perhaps a slightly straighter sort of curve in his horn… more of an angular shape going around it rather than the round edges.
He didn’t look ill-tempered at all. Actually, he looked a bit shy, not at all the prankster Sweetie Belle had made him out to be.
But then, some of his bashfulness may have been due to the fact that he wore a thick rubber costume in the most hideous shade of gender-neutral rosé Rarity had ever laid eyes on. It covered him from hoof to neck, leaving only his tail open and his face.
“Umm… hi,” the boy started.
“Hello, darling. I’m Rarity, Sweetie Belle’s sister. Pleased to make your acquaintance.” She extended one hoof towards him, which he didn’t accept. Waiwai just backed away a step.
“This costume’s kind of dusty. I don’t wanna get any dirt on you.”
An awkward silence fell over the two, broken only by an odd background buzzing, possibly an old light bulb.
“Of course, rubber does tends to attract grime.” Rarity broke the silence. “I suppose you have to wear that for hygienic reasons?”
“No, miss.” The colt shook his head.
“Please, dear: Rarity. ‘Miss’ is what you call a stray arrow. Are you sick, then? Do you need to stay warm?”
“No, not really.” He shuffled back and forth with a groan, producing some unsettling squeaking sounds from the rubber, only mildly blocking out the buzzing in the background.
“So… you don’t really need to wear that costume, then? It doesn’t look very comfortable.”
“It’s not. And I guess I don’t really need to wear it. It does get pretty tight around my neck.”
“Then why did you put it on in the first place?” Rarity raised an eyebrow. He was quite different from what she’d pictured, maybe he wasn’t so bad?
“My mom told me I had to. All my other foalsitters wanted me to keep it on, too.”
The young mare blinked in confusion. Disciplining a foal was necessary sometimes, granted, but putting a colt in a humiliating rubber getup was going a bit far. He was visibly embarrassed about it, and she saw no good reason for him to keep it on.
“Then perhaps you should take it off. You don’t need to look silly on my account.”
Slowly, the zipper on the back moved back towards the colt’s tail, covered in a vague yellow haze of magic. He grimaced in concentration as he tried to shed the thing, not an easy trick for a foal since he couldn’t even see the zipper.
“Here, let me help you.” She put one hoof on the side on the rubber costume and used her own magic to get the zipper going. She curled her nose as the smell of sweat had already mixed with the material to give him a very pervading odour.
The unicorn couldn’t make sense of her first impressions of the boy. He looked so vulnerable as the rubber fell off him. He even shivered as the chill of the air penetrated the costume. A warm bath after dinner would get that smell off, no doubt.
Waiwai smiled meekly as he stepped out. Rarity decided right there and then that her sister had just judged him wrong. He wasn’t a little terror, he was just a little boy.
“Much better. Now, shall we get some board games or would you rather we relax in front of the TV?”
“Umm… board games sounds good,” came the shy reply.
“Excellent.” She patted him on the neck as the tension between them finally seemed to lift.
Then she screamed.
Pain shot up her hooves and her eyes went blind as light flashed before them. Every muscle in her body contracted without her volition, and she was sure her mane and tail went straight up with her heart rate. The pain took a while to subside, just long enough for the young mare to figure out what a hideous prank Waiwai had played on her.
Once she realised he’d given her an electric shock, her face contorted in anger. Why, the nerve of him shocking her and messing up her mane like that, no wonder no one wanted to foalsit him. She collected her thoughts and prepared for a proper tongue-lashing.
Except he wasn’t standing next to her anymore.
The boy had jumped up, startled, and currently he was hiding in the little den, ducked under a beanie bag.
Crackling sounds came from the teen filly’s mane, now a frizzy mess. Slowly, she turned her head towards the hiding colt. He didn’t look like he thought it was funny at all.
“I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to.” He quivered in fear.
Resisting the urge the chew him out over what had happened, Rarity just put on her best smile and floated over a brush she kept in her saddlebags for just such an emergency. If it was an accident, she couldn’t just yell at him for it; mother would never let her live it down. She’d promised to foalsit, she’d promised to be reasonable, and she’d be damned if she wasn’t going to be as ladylike as she always was. No need to lose her composure now, the night was only starting. Best to give him the benefit of the doubt for now.
“That’s quite alright, Waiwai, a lady is always prepared.” She carefully tried to brush her mane back into a respectable form.
One of her eyelashes was sizzling, but as he stepped out, Rarity couldn’t see any sort of buzzer hidden on his body. Whatever he’d done, he’d used his magic to do it, which was quite impressive for his age. It was only when he stepped out of hiding that she realised what exactly had just happened. A minor detail dawned on her then: that buzzing in the background wasn't coming from any light.
It was coming from him.
“You know, I feel a little silly calling you ‘Waiwai’. What’s your real name, darling?”
“Live Wire.” He blushed.
“Well, then, Live Wire, we’ve got some time before dinner. What would you like to play?”
He crept up closer, shameful look in his face. His eye went to her smouldering eyelash, and Rarity silently thanked the heavens that she wasn’t wearing her fake eyelashes tonight. The boy seemed really upset about it.
“Umm… do you play ‘Dominance’?”
She tilted her head at that.
“Why yes, I do, actually. I’d think you’re a little young to be playing that, as a matter of fact.”
“Well, I kind of have a knack for it.” He kicked the ground and averted her gaze.
“Care to show me?”
“Darling, I thought you said you were good at this game. That’s four times in a row I’ve beaten you, and you are in a losing position again. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were letting me win.”
All the hexes of the board were littered with little wooden pillars, cubes and cones as well as cardboard symbols representing species and the elements they needed to survive. It was quite a complicated game, and most ponies would never think Rarity the sort to play it. Nevertheless: strategy games had always been the purview of nobility, and chess was just a tad too monotonous for someone of Rarity’s ilk. She had picked this game up when she was ten, loved the complexities of the different play-styles, and still managed to land third place in the local tournaments, on a good day, that is.
Waiwai, or Live Wire, clearly grasped the rules of the game but seemed to lack tactical insight. What sort silly player would run Arachnids and then neglect to monopolise the Competition action bar, anyway?
“Well, maybe.” He looked away.
“Come now, Live Wire, you said you were sorry. My mane is in perfect order again. A handsome young colt like you shouldn’t be moping over some trivial accident.”
The boy winced at being called ‘handsome’.
“That’s just it: it’s not an accident. That shocking thing? That always happens.”
“Because of your talent?” The unicorn leaned in, a little sympathetic.
Live Wire nodded.
“It happened a couple months ago. There was this big thunderstorm, and I saw some pegasus pony trying out stunts in the middle of it. She looked so awesome, and the lightning... I could feel it, and not just the thunder. I wanted to go outside to talk to her, but I couldn’t. I just stayed in and watched her fly through the dark clouds. I couldn’t look away, even if I wanted to. I heard the thunder, and I felt this fizzy thing in the air. The fizz went into my horn, and then all over my body. Next thing I know, my flank’s got a danger sign on it.”
Well, the boy certainly lived up to the name ‘Live Wire’. His cutie mark was literally the same icon that was stamped on the walls of power plants; a stylised wire with lines coming out of it to represent dangerous electrical current, along with a pony's hoof getting too close to it.
Poor boy, he might as well have had a skull on his flanks and a talent for making poison. The story didn’t quite add up, though.
“My… I can hardly imagine a foal flying around in a thunderstorm.”
“Hmm? It wasn’t a foal, she was about as old as you, I think. I’m not even sure if it was a ‘she’.”
That was even more surprising. At least a little foal could be excused for recklessness, but a young adult? What kind of mad pony would it take to inspire such a cutie mark, anyway?
“But what is your talent then, dear? Lightning?”
“Kind of. It’s electrical magic. And it sucks.” He let his head hang at that.
Rarity moved her hoof to lift his chin, but let it hang just before she reached him.
“Am I to assume you can’t control your electricity? At all?”
He shook his head. She withdrew her hoof.
“I see. So that’s why your mother asked you to put on that costume, and why she neglected to mention the reason. You’re constantly under high voltage, is that it?”
He nodded.
“You know the stuff magic is made of?”
Rarity nodded in response.
“Well, my mom says that I make that stuff, but I turn it into electricity too. It builds up right under my skin, and it keeps going in circles inside me. It doesn’t hurt, but when some pony touches me it’s like ripples in water. Or like a fish in water, I guess. It stops going in the circle it’s supposed to and always tries to jump at ponies. It's like it's got a mind of its own. It wants to get out and shock ponies, and I can't stop it when it finds a way out.”
“So you make electricity with your magic that always jumps at any pony it can,” Rarity concluded. “But if you can’t touch anypony and they can’t touch you, how did you get into that school play, then?”
“My mom said I had to.”
That certainly sounded familiar.
“I guess she thought I should still hang out with other ponies, but I can’t. I’m always buzzing, I’m always shocking ponies, and I can’t switch it off. My horn just won’t listen to what I tell it to.”
“But… haven’t you seen a doctor about it?” Rarity suspected at the back of her head that this was just some medical triviality.
“Of course I have. They just said I’d learn to control it in time, that whatever spell I cast by accident would fade. My horn’s not strong enough to handle it, but it will be when I get older, that’s when I can cast that spell on command. In the meantime, I just can’t touch anypony.” He shrugged. “And nopony wants to be with me. You’re not going to come back after tonight either, are you?”
The young mare considered it.
“Well, I certainly don’t like foalsitting a gentlecolt who asks me to play games with him and then doesn’t play. Self-pity is most unbecoming, and it’s insulting that you would let me win just because you think that would make me come back next time.”
“Oh.” His ears perked up at that and he looked at the board, quietly calculating his next move. ”Umm… okay. I use all my Adaptation counters to add a Grub resource to my species cards here and here.”
“Then I spend a Regression counter to stop from losing my Seed resources -- ”
“And I use my Abundance points to get a Water counter here and here.” The boy placed the resource circles on the edges of some of the hexes. “And then I use the Wasteland point to remove the Grub resource from the Wasteland box. That means every Tundra tile loses its Seeds, Skulls and Grass.”
The gears in Rarity’s head turned as she did the math on every tile. One of her cones went on this tile, one of his came. Rinse and repeat for what she realised too late was the entire playing field.
“That gives you dominance on… the whole map, actually.”
He blushed at that.
“I guess I win?”
She flashed him a friendly smile.
“That you do. Well played, young sir. I take it your talent lets you think in terms of flows too?”
“Yeah, I usually plan a few turns ahead. Things just kinda click when I think.” The boy’s stomach groaned, sending those ears splaying again with nerves.
“I’ll go fix us up some dinner, darling. You wait right here.” Rarity got up and almost gave him a friendly pat on the head, but she stopped herself. That was going to take some getting used to.
As she entered the kitchen, it occurred to her that even if he chose to wear that rubber costume -- something she’d never put any foal through, regardless of their voltage -- it didn’t change that much. He wasn’t fully covered, he could still shock someone simply by brushing past with his tail, presumably. And it still meant he couldn’t feel a loving touch.
No matter how one looked at it, Live Wire drove his foalsitters away. If it wasn’t the fact that he shocked them, then it was the fact that he was constantly afraid of hurting them and made both him and his foalsitter feel like they were walking on eggshells. It wasn’t a dangerous job, it was just depressing.
All these thoughts quickly made their way through the white unicorn’s mind as she opened the refrigerator. A whole world unveiled itself before her: ready-made pizzas, a pre-prepared quiche, some sandwiches. ‘Twas a veritable cornucopia of tasty and conveniently prepared food.
“Well, this just won’t do.”
“So, what is this again?” the colt asked.
“It’s a puff pastry with pesto and goat’s cheese, served with a dash of apple jam,” Rarity proudly declared. “It’s quite tasty, you’ll love it.”
Live Wire shuffled nervously in his seat.
“I dunno. Couldn’t I just have a sandwich, please?”
“Really, darling, there’s no need to be afraid. Here, just have one bite and tell me if it’s good or not.” She went over to his side of the table and cut off a piece of his pastry, dipped it in the jam, then presented it to his mouth after blowing it to make sure it wasn’t too hot. That close to him, fork in hoof, she was sure he wouldn’t be able to refuse.
He tensed up, really not wanting to antagonise another foalsitter, especially one who wasn’t afraid to come that close to him. Slowly, gingerly, he closed his mouth around the fork.
“WUUAAA!” Rarity sprang up, accidentally knocking his plate up with the forelegs that had rested on the table. She regained her composure quickly enough to catch the puff pastry in her magic before it hit the ground.
Then a spot of jam landed on the boy’s head. He blushed as he chewed the cheese and pesto, startled but not choking, luckily.
“I think you were supposed to use the plastic cutlery, Rarity.” He tucked into the meal himself as Rarity readied her brush again to get her mane in order.
“The thought just occurred to me, dear, but I’ll sooner kick a manticore in the nose than resort to plastic cutlery. Do you like the meal, at least?”
“Hmm.” He nodded with his mouth full as Rarity’s magic once again tried to get the static out of her mane.
With a sigh and a headache about to crop up, Rarity ate her own portion. A glance at the boy’s now sticky mane confirmed what the rubbery smell from earlier had told her: he needed a bath.
“You brought your own soap?” he asked from inside the bathroom. ”Why?”
“Well, if you must know, you have a dreadful reputation with my little sister, and part of that reputation was that you would be, and I quote: ‘a smelly stinkbug’.”
Rarity preferred to stand out of the bathroom, for decency’s sake as well as the risk of getting her already tried and tired mane wet. She’d need a good shampoo treatment to get the fibres back to their normal manageable self, but at least no one could see her straw-like mane now. It could have been worse: she could have looked like that ruffian Applejack.
She kept her ear close to the door, just to make sure he didn’t slip in the tub and hurt himself. Judging from the sounds, he was done quite quickly.
“May I come in?”
“Umm, sure?”
She stepped in to see him positively shining, even his back was scrubbed clean. Rarity never failed to find the right beauty products, even if it was for a little colt. He was squinting to hold up a towel with his magic, but the boy had nowhere near the amount of power a fully grown unicorn had, nor the concentration needed to use it.
She helped him out with a twinkle of her own magic, gently taking hold of the towel and dabbing him dry. He seemed to enjoy it: he actually giggled a little for the first time since she’d met him. Then again, he wasn’t used to being touched anymore. Rarity smiled back at him. He wasn’t that tricky to look after.
She took one step forward, then jumped with a scream.
Her mane was now in need of industrial amounts of conditioner, frizzy like a mad scientist’s. And she’d been so careful, too. She’d avoided touching him, she hadn’t grabbed the towel with her hooves, but physics-bloody-physics had to ruin the moment.
“I think I might have splashed a little too much in the tub.”
She took a long, hard look at the puddle that had momentarily been between her and the walking battery.
“You don’t say,” she casually remarked, brush floating up to do its solemn duty once more. Even the glow around it seemed to be tired of the ritual, occasionally glowing red as if to mimic the ambulance her hair would need after tonight.
Live Wire looked at the ground, fearful of where to put his hooves next.
“Just stand there, and I’ll blow dry your hair.” Rarity hovered the appliance over before looking for the power outlet. Her attention darted to the thing as it came to life. The colt was standing on the plug.
“Well, I suppose there is one big upside to your talent, then.” She grinned with him as she got his wet mane in order.
“Princess,” the Guardian of Night started, “thine foes are felled. The Orchard is safe once more.”
The alicorn princess smiled down upon the unicorn.
“My hero,” she said, before kissing him and thus signalling the closing credits of the movie.
As much as Rarity would deny it, movies like these never failed to get her to shed a tear.
Romance was indeed the highest of genres, if handled delicately. She’d have made that movie with a lot less glitter, though: glitter was just annoying in such obscene quantities. The colt next to her groaned, then yawned.
“Time for bed, Live Wire.”
With a resigned nod, he walked up the staircase with Rarity in tow. She tucked him in, arranged the sheets properly with her magic, then bade him a good night. The young mare leaned in close to kiss him goodnight, but quickly thought the better of it. She had to bite her lip and ignore the little stab in her chest, but she just couldn’t kiss the colt goodnight. She could scarcely imagine how he was feeling about that.
“Rarity?” he asked before she switched his lights off. ”Are you going to keep foalsitting me?”
“I see no reason why not. Your parents don’t leave you alone often, do they?”
“Not in the day, no. They work at home, but they have to go see every new play and concert to write about it. I like having you as a foalsitter, but I know you don’t like me. So… are you going to leave me, too?”
Stood in the doorway, she considered the best response. Be truthful and possibly hurt him, or lie and hope he feels better?
“We’ll see, darling. Don’t trouble yourself over it, just get some sleep.”
“Okay. And Rarity?”
“Yes, dear?”
“Thanks for not making me wear that rubber thing.”
“Think nothing of it. The mere sight of it was as painful for me as it was for you.”
She switched off the light, and closed his bedroom door just slowly enough to hear his chuckle.
“Well, how would you be if you couldn’t touch anyone?” Rarity insisted as the pair walked down a Canterlot shopping street.
“I know. It’s sad, but what can you do?” Cheerilee replied. “You can’t really cheer him up: no little pat on the shoulder, no hugging, no kiss goodnight. And that’s assuming you manage to dodge all the other accidents he can cause. Look what he did to your mane.”
“Don’t remind me.” Rarity groaned. Still, it was comforting to know that if she ever got caught in a thunderstorm and was struck by a bolt of lightning, she had a rehabilitation program ready for her hair.
“But I still don’t understand how this sort of thing happens. Unicorn magic can be erratic when we’re young, true, but GIYAAH!” The unicorn jumped up at the sound of a thunderclap.
“That kid really did a number on you, didn’t he?” Cheerilee remarked as her horned friend landed.
“Ugh, indeed. Where did that even come from?”
Cheerilee perked her ears as more distant thunderclaps sounded.
“About three blocks away, I’d say. Oh, I’ll bet it’s the Royal Guard’s recruits practising. Wanna go oogle some rugged stallions?”
Rarity, always the lady, snorted at the very idea.
“I shall do no such thing! However, I may be tempted to observe some of the more handsome specimens as a future reference for colour coordination.”
With a shared giggle, the girls were off. To their surprise, there weren’t any pegasus ponies handling clouds at the training grounds, only grounded ones training with the spear. A few parents were taking a walk with their foals to show them the courtyard, and of course a few actual Royal Guards were stationed up on a higher level to keep an eye on everything.
It didn’t take the girls long to find the source of the thunder. It was a white pegasus stallion with a blue mane, shooting bolts at a set of specially prepared targets in the corner.
“He looks dreamy,” Cheerily fawned.
Rarity tilted her head at the sight. This was a public area, they were allowed to be here. She might as well.
“Excuse me, sir? Could you help me?” She walked right up to him, leaving Cheerilee to pick up her jaw. Rarity was bold, but never that bold, certainly not with colts.
As he turned around, she noticed the young stallion was her senior by at least five years. His mane was dark blue with a light blue streak, and he had an odd cutie mark of a shield decorated by stars.
“Err, if you’re looking for a date, I’m afraid I really can’t --” he started with a blush.
“Oh no, it’s nothing like that, dear. I was actually curious about the magic you were using. You can shoot lightning bolts?”
“Hmm? Oh yeah, figured it out just last week.” He squeed proudly as Rarity’s Earth pony friend caught up. “Why do you ask?”
“Well, I was hoping you could explain how you do that. For a friend, you see, one who's been having a rather hard time. I was just wondering if you knew anything that might help, regarding control. How does it work, exactly?”
To that, the Royal Guard in training just rubbed the back of his head.
“Honestly, it’s one of those things you just figure out by doing. I’ve heard some of the theory behind it, but I don’t really remember all the details. Sorry.”
“Ah. Thank you, nonetheless.” Rarity made to leave.
“Although,” he started before she could leave, “there is one pony you could ask. If you take a left there and then a right, then go up the stairs, you’ll end up in the specialist section of the Canterlot library. The unicorn there should be able to help you.” He pointed her towards another corner of the courtyard, one that led to the halls of the Palace. Not the Royal Palace, obviously, but the part of the Palace that was open to the public.
“The librarian, you mean?”
“No, she’s not a librarian, but she might as well be, I guess.” He rolled his eyes. “Just say Shiny sent you, she’ll help you out.”
A gentle rap on the door, a glance inside, and Rarity gasped.
She had entered a warzone.
Books were strewn all over the floor: manuals locked in hoof-to-claw combat, medical journals in need of a doctor and dictionaries lying about in… whatever the word was for that position.
“Excuse me? Is anyone here?”
“You know you’re supposed to quiet in a library, right?” a voice answered her.
“I do, in fact. I’m also aware of the fact that library books tend to be neatly arranged, not scattered on the floor to mimic a postmodernist piece of art.”
“Touché,” the voice answered. By Rarity’s reckoning, it was a young mare of about her age, maybe slightly younger. As she went further in, she noticed the balconies in the massive hall, each lined with bookcases and connected by a maze of stairs. It gave her a frightful vertigo just looking up at the things.
“I was hoping you’d be able to help me with something, actually. Shiny sent me?”
A snap and pop sounded from one of the upper levels, the tell-tale sign of a unicorn teleporting. She couldn’t see where from or where to, though, or if it was the unicorn doing it or some sort of magical platforms she was using.
“Oh. Well, I’m a little busy here, but if Shiny sent you, what sort of book do you need?”
Busy, eh?
Judging from the horrid mess, ‘busy’ equated ‘messy’ to this poor young mare.
Who cleans up after this girl? And how much are they being paid to do so?
“Something on lightning magic. A friend of mine -- well, a foal -- is constantly running a current, and the poor dear can’t switch it off. According to the doctor, it’s just something he’ll learn to control once his horn grows. I was hoping you might have some information on how other unicorns master it.”
“Well, I’d hate to break it to you, but a book won’t do any good. If his horn is constantly running a current through his body, then the only way to get it under control is to exhaust his magic. Do you have ‘Sigils and Wards: a Wizard’s Compendium’ down there?”
Rarity looked down at the ground, what part of it could be seen, at any rate. Really, she couldn’t stand to stand in this mess any longer. With a deep breath, she channelled her magic and sent power into her horn, focusing on one word, one idea to project into her surroundings.
Order.
All at once, the feuding and fallen books obeyed and lifted up in the glow to be restored to their rightful place. Slowly, each and every one evacuated the warzone and retired back to the shelves where they belonged.
“Oh, never mind, found it. Wow, that’s a pretty impressive spell you’ve got there.” The voice came from behind her now, echoing off the walls.
The whole place was built much like a classic amphitheatre, at least in terms of sound. The slightest noise could carry anywhere in the hallowed halls, most likely to make communicating between researchers a bit easier. A few brass horns on the walls connected to pipes made it so even conversing with the top levels didn’t require shouting. That library pony could have been watching her the whole time and she wouldn’t be able to tell where the girl was.
“Why, thank you. I got it from ‘Household Spells’, Unity’s classic.”
“Huh… never read that one. I’ll have to look into that sometime. Anyway, if a foal can’t control their magic, containment is the only solution. He shouldn’t have tried a lightning spell to begin with. It’ll wear off in a few months.”
“Well, if you say so. It just strikes me as odd that a talent can have such a grievous effect.”
Rarity turned to leave, though in this situation that might have meant she was turning to face whoever she was talking to.
“Whoa, wait, you didn’t say anything about talents,” came the sudden response. “Does he know how to shoot lightning yet?”
“I doubt it. He just runs a constant electrical current he can’t control. He can barely lift a towel with his normal magic, actually.”
“Oooh, that explains it. Yeah, that happens sometimes, it’s kind of rare. Only two cases in recorded medical history, but that’s just the ones who really noticed it. It’s not his horn that’s the problem.”
“What’s rare? What do you mean? And where are you? I feel quite silly talking to somepony I can’t see.”
“I’m right up here.” A vague shape waved down at her from a distance that would require more walking than the teen cared for.
The sun hit the library-dweller full on, making it difficult to tell anything about her as the light made the white unicorn squint. The girl could have been golden, brown, or purple. And right after waving, what she was was gone. For someone who liked to read books, she seemed to teleport at random, really, never actually going that far into the books themselves.
“Right then. What does it mean, exactly?”
“Well, elemental magic isn’t like unicorn magic. It’s not just linked to the horn, it’s linked to internal organs as well. There’s no real way to be sure, but from the sound of it, I’d say your foal’s problem isn’t in his horn at all.”
“It’s not?”
“Elemental energy is primarily physical, not magical. His magic is being drained because his body keeps turning it into something else. Normally it takes a conscious effort to get that sort of thing going, but it could happen automatically for a unicorn with a talent related to the element. Like I said, it’s rare, but it’s been known to happen. Getting that kind of cutie mark can cause a minor imbalance between the horn and the organs, meaning the body can’t stop making that elemental energy, even if they never do anything with it.”
“And how does one go about mending such an imbalance, dear?”
“Really, honey, we mustn’t dawdle,” Mrs Blizzard started as she yanked her husband by the tie, now turned noose.
“Can’t… breathe…” the stallion tried, pulled along in his wife’s magical grip.
“Rarity, thank you so much for foalsitting again. I don’t know what we’d do without you.”
“Oh, think nothing of it, dear. But I should warn you, this will be my last time.”
“Oh.” The mare’s ears drooped at the confession. “I’m sorry to hear that. We’ll talk when we get back, if that’s alright.”
“Of course.”
“Good night, Waiwai.” The colt’s mother turned to him as they once again rushed to their carriage like a faerie tale couple.
“Harwarglbargle!” the oxygen-deprived father called out, possibly in homage to some horror movie or other.
Rarity turned to the colt who, at first glance, seemed to be doing his best to suppress his sobs. The vague buzzing around him only got more insistent because of it.
“Why so glum, dear?”
“You don’t like me, like everypony else.” He suppressed a tear.
“Oh, but I do like you, Live Wire.”
“But you’re not going to foalsit after tonight?”
“No, dear, but that’s got nothing to do with you.”
He winced at that. He was apparently old enough -- or at least had seen enough movies -- to know that when a girl says that to you, it means it’s your fault.
“Would it help if I put on that rubber thing again?” He winced as he suggested it.
“Actually, I have a little something else for you to wear instead. Close your eyes.”
The boy shut his eyes tight, grimacing as he prepared to weather the humiliation of whatever his foalsitter had prepared. He felt something cold go around his neck, then heard a click. His chest felt funny, and his ears rang just a bit.
“Now open them.”
He looked down at himself. She’d dressed him in a golden-hued plate armour, made of something that felt like rubber, only harder to bend and softer to the touch. It looked like a chest plate, the same kind he’d seen on princess Celestia and the Royal Guard, only smaller. Right over his chest, a single golden yellow crystal hung. The whole getup felt quite warm after a while, and really form-fitting, too.
“There now, much better. You look like a proper noble gentlecolt now.”
“Why --” he started, the boy but found himself interrupted by something touching his forehead, just below his horn. Something warm.
Rarity was kissing him. When she withdrew, she patted him on the head.
“That was the kiss I owed you from last time.”
“I-I don’t understand. Did you switch off my horn?”
She led him to the table, where he’d already set up the board for another round of Dominance.
“No, it’s not your horn that’s the problem. I asked around and it turns out unicorns with your kind of talent don’t need to mind their horns as much as their body.”
They sat down and shuffled the cards, Live Wire still not getting it.
“My body? How?”
“Elemental magic comes from both your horn and your body. You – and I imagine anyone who tried to help you – thought the problem was with your horn. I suppose that's how it is for most foals who have trouble controlling their magic. But you're a bit of a rare case, it seems. Not all unicorn magic comes solely from one's horn. Your magic, at least part of it, comes from the heart. Your heart was draining your horn of magic to keep that current up, and probably telling it to keep lashing out at ponies as some primal defensive instinct. As for fixing that, well, you can hardly switch your heart off, can you?”
“So I just keep this magic gem on, and it’s okay?”
“No, silly, that’s just a crystal I dug up this morning. A fine specimen, but not magical. I do a lot sewing in my spare time, I made that whole piece myself. Think of it as a late gift for your cute-ceañara, if you ever went to one, that is. That crystal will help keep your magic under control. After a few months, you probably won’t even need it, though you might want to keep wearing it, still. It looks good on you.”
“I don’t understand…”
“Quartz crystals have a very weak field to them, one that reacts with that of your body. That’s why in the olden days ponies put crystals on their wedding rings, not diamonds. That’s also why Princess Celestia never wears diamonds, only crystals on her chest plate and tiara: it symbolises power and healing, not wealth. Can you feel it buzzing, Live?”
“I guess. It tickles a little.”
“That means it’s working. Crystals like that citrine quartz you’re wearing, or rubies and carbuncles, they can all carry a charge and help repair any imbalance in magic energies, or just the internal organs, I’m not sure which. My point is; crystals held close to the body were once used to heal and empower, which is what you really needed. It’s an old tradition, and one that’s been mostly forgotten for a while now. But it still holds true, as you can see. It won't contain your magic, it'll make your magic run the way it's supposed to. It'll mend what's causing your problem, not just suppress it.“
“I don’t know what to say. Thanks.” He looked a little sad at her at that, not wanting to start their game just yet.
“What’s the matter? Do you not like the colour? It matches your coat.”
“I love it, but if I don’t have to shock anyone anymore, why won’t you foalsit me after tonight?”
“Because foalsitting is just not for me, darling, and you should get someone better. I don’t have the patience for it, and the only reason you like me is because I hide my frustrations better than most."
"That's not true.”
"Yes, it is, darling, and you know it, but that's all right. You shouldn’t have to worry about it. It’s no fun for your foalsitters to feel like they have to walk on eggshells, but it’s no fun for you to feel that way, either. If you really want to talk to me, I still play this game in competition, you can ask my little sister when you see her, we can still meet up. But as for taking care of you; I doubt you’d have any fun with me around, and you should be having fun. I’ll tell my mother you’re harmless again, she’ll make sure your old foalsitters will come back.” She smiled warmly at the colt. “And I might get my little sister to understand what’s been going on with you, but I can’t promise anything. You’ll have to patch some of that up on your own.”
“I think I can handle that.” He shook up the resource bag and setting the game up to begin at last. “So where did you hear about that gem thing, then? Did you go see princess Celestia?”
“No, darling. I heard it from a unicorn like you and me. Although I will admit --” She looked away in thought at that.
“What?”
“Well, she struck me as the sort of unicorn that must make the rest of us look rather odd.”
The End
Author's Note
This was written before I was made aware of the fact, but yes, I do know Rarity's parents now have canon names: Cookie Crumbles and Hondo Flanks. Can't say I'm a fan of the names, but hey.
