(Take Me Into) Your Skin

There was an art to getting oneself prepared for the day. If nothing else, Rarity had made sure to turn it into one.

When she first awoke, she'd quickly take note of what position she was in. It played into various things, you see. If she was on her back, then she'd be more thorough in combing out the area of her mane nearer to her neck. More combing leeway was allotted if she awoke on her side, but she still opted to make sure her mane curl was done a little tighter than usual. If, on the rare occasion she ended up sleeping in a prone position, she made sure to double the time she spent refreshing her face.

After that, she'd actually get out of bed. Her robe and slippers were shed, and her hairpins were carefully removed. After all her nightwear had been set aside she'd disappear into the bathroom. Therein, she'd begin the longest part of her morning.

First, Rarity turned on the tub's showerhead. This was but the precursor, so she could simply hop in while it was lukewarm and let the stream flow down her mane and body. Three-ish minutes in there, and she could step out. Her horn glowed blue and she plugged the drain. She'd make the water hotter, then, and pick between whichever wash she hadn't used this week.

(She'd forgotten, once, and re-used a wash that had the scent of snapdragon flowers.

"Uhm, Rarity. I meant to ask yesterday, but is that a perfume? It's pretty."

"Mmm? Why it's no perfume, Fluttershy! Sunset Savor's Snapdragon Soirée, a rather incredible body wash, might I say."

"Oh, okay. I'm glad you used it again, I love it."

Again, she had said, and Rarity felt an embarrassment so potent she ended up not using the wash for an entire month.)

Never again. Her choice for today would be Calming Caress, a newer purchase with the scent of calla lilies. Distinctiveness was mastered when you could work with its subtleties. Her visage alone was striking, this she knew, but it was the little features that could really influence one's memories. The pretty white mare that smelled of roses. No, the mare with astoundingly purple hair that wore the scent of lavender. It was yet another thing that Rarity had discovered as she grew older and was able to expand her horizons beyond Ponyville. Scent played a large role in the recollection of memories.

She always wanted ponies to remember her.

Back on track; she slid into the tub. The water and bubbles took her in and cradled her like a lover, soaking into her body and filling her nose with a scent that, funnily, only stoked her energy. She took careful care in washing herself, giving every limb thorough strokes. When she'd gone all over her body once, she'd repeat the process again. When the second run was complete she'd finally extract herself from the water.

Drying herself was no major thing. Her towels were wonderfully absorbent and not too rough on the fur. She made sure to keep her hair-dryer in impeccable condition, too. After she'd assured that she was suitably dry, Rarity would clean up after herself, making sure there were no suds in the tub or water on the floor. Then, she'd move to the sink.

Brushing her teeth was a slow, careful process. She measured out her toothpaste with a sharp eye, and only went about brushing once she was assured that it was enough to freshen her breath but not offend the senses of others she may talk to. Her brushing was heavy, but still slow. She made sure to let the bristles catch in the little grooves between all her teeth, and only let herself brush across both rows in a more normal manner once she felt she'd been thorough enough.

There was a small cup placed right beside the sink's faucet. She took it within her magic and turned the water on. She let the cup fill a little above halfway before downing it, swishing the water about in her mouth. A little afterward, she bent down and released (not spat!) it back into the sink.

Now clean, Rarity returned to her room and parked herself in front of her vanity. She'd meticulously part her mane and go about working the necessary gels into it, and, when that was done, levitated her curling iron over and began the process of creating her magnificent curls.

Almost. Almost complete. She lowered her iron and looked into the mirror. Nearly-Rarity looked back. Nearly-Rarity still needed her makeup.

Her horn lit, and she dragged her makeup kit before her. She withdrew a set of false eyelashes, first. Putting them on was rote, a simple affair that she had mastered after years of using them. They were, in her opinion, the most vital part of her ensemble. She required them, couldn't even imagine attempting the day without them on.

Applejack doesn't even need them. Applejack's eyelashes are—

The eyeshadow was next, and she gingerly painted one lowered lid before swapping to the other. She had a variety of eyeshadows, a banquet of lapis and aegean and sapphire. Today she'd put on cerulean.

She looked into the mirror again and finally saw herself; complete.