Lost Summer

The sewing machine whirred as Rarity feverishly closed a seam on a fuschia colored accent sash. She floated the long ribbon into the air and pulled it right side out before tying it around the waist of the finished dress she had staged on her ponnequin.

“Oh, that’s too long for her,” she grunted, floating a pair of scissors to the scene.

Rarity made a couple of quick snips, reducing the sash to an adequate length. Then she paced to the side, admiring how it looked from afar. She pulled back the scissors and looked at the blades, unable to resist the urge to give them a loud snap. Her eyes flicked back to the dress making dummy, suddenly struck with the inspiration to launch the scissors straight into where its eye would be. She scoffed at her silly brain and set the pointy implement down on the table like a normal, well adjusted adult.

Rarity’s ears perked up when she heard the bell on the front door jingle but she paid it no mind, sitting back down at the sewing machine. She already knew who it was.

“I'm back,” announced Sweetie Belle, shrugging off her school saddle bag. She entered the room floating a collection of mail she'd scooped up from the floor under the Carousel Boutique mail slot and hovered it into her older sister's peripheral vision. She waited there several seconds for her to notice but she did not.

“You didn't even get the mail today,” she shouted over the hum of the machine.

Rarity stepped off of the button to speak. “Oh, I've been far too busy. Or rather I’ve been in a productive mood and I didn’t want to squander it.”

“What's the point of being closed on Mondays if you're just going to slave over a sewing machine the whole time you're off?” scoffed Sweetie.

Rarity received the stack of letters with her magic and began flipping through them. “I run the boutique the rest of the time. Now is when I can have uninterrupted time to create.”

“Yeah but what I'm saying is maybe do something that's not clothes for a while.”

Her older sister gasped as she picked a single letter out of the stack letting the rest fall to the floor in apathy.

“What is it?” shrugged Sweetie flatly, dubious that whatever it was warranted such a reaction.

Rarity flipped the envelope to face her beneath a deranged stare.

“It’s an official letter from Ocasional, the Manehattan based fashion showcase that I submitted something to a couple of months ago.” She began to take short panicky breaths. “Oh no. I don’t know if I have the constitution to open this. My heart can’t take rejection.”

“Oh, well I can get rid of that nasty letter for you,” declared Sweetie, snatching the envelope away.

“No,” cried Rarity, snatching it back. She picked up the scissors and ran them through the top to slice it open. Then she unfurled the letter and took a deep breath.

“Ms. Rarity,” she muttered aloud. “Congratulations…” Her eyes widened again as they scanned further into the body.

Sweetie recoiled as Rarity let out a blood freezing shriek.

“My bikini got into the Summer swimwear showcase!” She grabbed her little sister in delirium and screamed again.

“Ow, Rarity?” she cried, rubbing her ear.

“Sorry,” she laughed, letting her go. “But this is so exciting. It's my big chance to really make a name for myself. I’m going to get exposure with the cutting edge fashion contemporaries of our time.”

Sweetie didn’t understand a lot of what her sister did and got excited about but what she was saying sounded important so she put on a supportive smile.

“We should do something fun to celebrate,” suggested the filly.

“Yes! After I finish this dress!” She turned back to her machine.

Pinkie Pie wrote congratulations on a sheet cake and Rarity’s friends and family convened at Sugar Cube Corner to carve it up.

“Things didn't turn out at all like I thought they would,” said Cookie, still just staring into her slice.

Rarity scraped the last of the frosting from her own plate with a fork. “How did you expect things to turn out?”

She shook her head. “I don't know. I guess it's just weird to think about everything in retrospect. Your parents just aren’t very fashion oriented. Every mother always wishes them the best but no one looks at their infant daughter and thinks someday she's going to be a a famous designer.”

“I'm not famous yet,” laughed Rarity. “This is simply… recognition and an opportunity.”

“But if ya actually do make it big in Manehattan,” mused Applejack. “Won't ya wanna move there? Ponyville isn't a fashion hub like Manehattan.”

Rarity sighed in thought. “Well… I love Ponyville but I suppose I'll have to cross that bridge if I come to it.”

Cookie gritted her teeth.

“It's all theoretical at this point,” added Rarity. “Let's just enjoy this moment for what it is.”

“You can't leave anyway,” spat Rainbow from the next booth over. “Who's gonna couture~ my dresses?”

“You were never my best customer,” she quipped dryly. “I'm sure you could make do without me.”

The whole store laughed except for Cookie.

“Well, whatever comes of this opportunity, we wish you luck,” said Twilight.

After the impromptu gathering, Rarity and her family left for Carousel Boutique.

“So it's the Saturday after next,” reported Rarity, flipping the page up on her calendar. “I know that's short notice but can you make it?”

“Of course,” nodded Hondo. “We wouldn't miss it for anything.”

“Yeah,” agreed Cookie weakly. “What about Sweetie Belle though?”

Rarity sighed. “Unfortunately I only received three tickets to the event, counting my own.”

“Oh darn,” droned Sweetie facetiously from her chair.

“We’re not going to just leave you here,” grunted her mother. “You’re coming to the city even if you just have to stay in the hotel room with an activity book during the show. We’ll find other fun things we can all do together. You weren’t even old enough to remember your last trip to Manehatten.”

Rarity raised a hoof. “Yes, well, about that hotel. It looks like my accommodations are rather upscale: the Grand Palace.”

Hondo frowned. “Uh… Maybe the three of us’ll just get a lowtel somewhere in the area and meet up when we need ta.”

“Sounds good,” breathed Cookie, still wrestling internally with all of this. She was so happy for Rarity and wanted nothing but success for her in her passion but she was also anxious of the possibility of her daughter leaving Ponyville and the umbrella of her influence to go live in the big city.

“This is going to be so much fun,” squealed Rarity.

In the runup to the show date, Rarity made herself a new dress. She wanted to make another for her mother but ran out of time so she just pulled one out of the closet she was saving for a rainy day and had Cookie try it on.

Rarity flipped the Carousel Boutique window sign to say closed and then floated her key into the lock.

“I still can't believe you opened at all today,” groaned Sweetie. “For like one hour and fifteen minutes.”

“There were ponies who had alterations to pick up,” Rarity retorted, stuffing the keys in her saddlebag. “Some day when you’re singing in some sort of… speakeasy nightclub or burlesque house you'll understand.”

“Some sort of what?”

Rarity floated her trunks and bags into a big lump and walked with her sister to the Ponyville train station where her parents already sat on the platform.

“Oh good, yer hear,” laughed Hondo. “Yer mother was just about ta send out a search party.”

“I was not,” scoffed Cookie.

“I'm not even late,” argued Rarity, slipping on her starlet sunglasses. She bought a ticket for her and Sweetie at the window office.

Cookie eyed her mountain of things piled on the platform and sighed. Some taught habits had stuck with her daughter. The ones that Rarity never picked up she blamed on being in direct conflict with what she privately called her ‘princess traits.’ The most glaring of these examples was the way she packed for trips. Although they were going to what was essentially a celebration of extravagance where she needed to look perfect to impress so perhaps it could be overlooked this once… it still seemed like a lot.

“Alright,” said Hondo. Everyone's here. The train's here.”

The family found an empty cabin on the train and settled in.

“How long is this trip?” grumbled Sweetie, propping her chin up listlessly at the window.

“Five and a half hours,” answered Cookie before landing next to her on the bench seat. She looked back and forth between the window and sliding door while her youngest daughter muttered grievances under her breath.

It had been decades now since their flight from Kirin country. In that time Cookie had had countless fantasies, inklings, bad omens and nightmares about attackers coming for her or Rarity, none of them ever close to coming true. After so long in a peaceful life, she had no reason to believe that the Kirins still had a vested interest in them or that they even remembered that they existed at all. Despite her flawless track record of being wrong, she still could not shake the bad feeling she had about Manehattan. - - -

The train pulled into the city early in the evening. Sweetie was embarrassed to walk with her sister and a month’s worth of luggage as they barreled down the crowded boulevard to the Grand Palace.

“At least it's close to the station.” smiled the unflappable Rarity. “Oh, this is it, I'm certain.” She pointed down the sidewalk to a trio of red awnings.

“It's huge,” marveled Sweetie Belle, tilting her head back to look up the side of the grandiose hotel.

“We gotta at least see yer room,” said Hondo. “That is if they'll even let the rest of us walk into the lobby.”

“Your luggage, madam?” offered the slightly bemused bellhop, pulling a cart from the carral.

“Why yes, thank you,” sighed Rarity, setting her pile on the ground.

The doorpony opened a gold accented glass door for the travelers and soon they were in a spacious, three story high, marble tiled foyer. A brilliant crystal chandelier hovered above them.

“Look at the magnificent frescos on the vaulted ceiling,” gasped Rarity, overcome with opulent beauty.

“It sure looks like a palace,” agreed Cookie.”

“I can't believe you get to stay here because you made a bikini,” added Sweetie incredulously.

The only one who didn't look out of place, Rarity checked in as a VIP of the Occasional Summer Fashion Show and got her room key.

Still pointing and rubbernecking at everything, the family piled into the brass cage elevator with the bellhop and the luggage and went up to the fourth floor.

“Is this your first stay with us,” he asked, as the elevator dinged.

“It is.”

“Excellent.” He pushed the cart ahead, leading them down a hall of ornately patterned plush carpeting.

“Four eighteen,” chimed the stallion, floating her key into the lock. He pushed the door open for the group and watched as they all filed past him.

Their sense of wonder crested once more as they began to absorb the bounteous amenities of Rarity's room.

“Sweetie,” scolded Cookie as her youngest pounced on the thousand thread count king sized bed.

The bellhop began unloading the cart, placing the bags and boxes in the alcove near the closet. “We have a spa, a restaurant, a bar and a twenty-four hour gym all on the first floor. Your twenty-four hour room service menu is on the table. Just ring the bell and someone will be right up.”

“Ooo, complimentary face masks,” gushed Rarity, peeking into the immaculate bathroom.

“Sweetie, put those back,” admonished Cookie, spotting the filly stuffing wads of convenience candy bars in her saddlebags. “The things in the mini bar aren't free. Rarity has to pay for them.”

“My name is White,” concluded the stallion as he returned the key to her. “If you have any questions, please ask me or any other uniformed attendant. Enjoy your stay.”

Rarity passed him a hooful of bits. “Thank you very much, White.” Her eyes flicked to the golden name tag on his vest which read White Glove.

He tipped his cap with a grin and departed, shutting the door neatly.

The rest of them continued to explore. Cookie did her room check ritual under the thinly veiled guise of awestruck curiosity. She checked the closet and under the bed. She checked the locks on the windows and the balcony sliding door.

“It's real nice,” declared Hondo, admiring the plumbing fixtures in the bathroom.

Rarity flipped through the book of services from the little table. “I've always felt I belonged in places like this but now that I'm here I sort of feel like a charlatan. I love going to the spa in Ponyville, especially after a long train ride, but I think the one downstairs is a little out of my price range.”

“I wanna feel like a charlatan,” sulked Sweetie Belle.

“We're gonna go to our own hotel,” said Hondo, patting her on the head. “They got an ice machine and free bagels in the morning.”

“I'll come with you to check in,” offered Rarity, dropping the book. “It's a little late for much sightseeing today but we should at least all go to dinner somewhere.”