“One, two, three, step! One, two, three, step!”

Tempest rolled her eyes as Rarity barked the orders. The former soldier stepped in time with the commands, strolling across the boutique’s floor with precision. Yet Rarity’s face belied no approval of her gait.

“You’re stepping too fast,” Rarity huffed. “You need to bring your front hooves up higher, so your legs flash more often.”

“I’m stepping in time,” Tempest said, her voice even.

“In time, but not on time. Do it again.”

Tempest sighed and strolled back to the opposite side of the boutique.

The last three hours had been a bizarre mish-mash of events. First, Rarity had taken Tempest upstairs to measure the unicorn’s body. To her delight, her mental estimations of Tempest’s figure were near perfect, requiring only the subtlest of adjustments to make it fit perfectly. The dress itself was a fascinating mix of black fabric and tanned leather, both hugging Tempest’s body while the thin skirt draped off her flank. She had to admit the piece fit the theme; she could see an ancient Amazon wearing the dress into battle.

After that, Rarity began coaching Tempest on how to walk like a model. Tempest had expected this to be a trifling affair, a simple half-hour lesson about how to look pretty and smile. She’d done her fair share of military rallies in service of the Storm King, so she knew this would be a walk in the park.

Come the first hour’s conclusion, however, Tempest realized this would be no easy task. The eye for detail Rarity brought to her dresses remained constant even in her coaching, with each and every mistake Tempest made being pointed out the second Rarity spotted it. Every part of Tempest’s body, from her face to her hips, seemed to be part of the exercise, and Rarity would not rest until every single element was in perfect unity.

By the time Tempest reached the boutique’s far side, the unmistakable exhaustion of the exercises was clear upon her face.

“Look determined, not tired,” Rarity called out. “We need emotion, but not too much. An Amazon is stoic in war, and the runway shall be our battlefield.”

Tempest shook her head. “Have you even been in a real battle?”

“Yes, actually. Back when the Changelings invaded. And I know how to drill obstinacy out of soldiers, Commander.”

There was a firmness to the word that surprised Tempest, but her disconcertion soon left her and she steadied herself for another stroll.

“One, two, three, step!” Rarity called out, and Tempest began the practice walk again.

Once more standing before Rarity, a disapproving nod came from the fashionista. “Your timing is better, but your shoulders are too stiff. They’re supposed to move in rhythm with your front legs. Hold them too tight, and your front legs won’t move as smoothly.” She waved her hoof. “Do it again.”

Tempest sighed and trotted back to the far wall. “Half the profits is looking less and less good now.”

“No distractions!” Rarity called. “Focus only on your walk, then you can bemoan life’s troubles later!”

Tempest turned, steadying herself once more.

“One, two, three, step!” Rarity called out.

Each step rang out upon the hard floor. Up, down, up, down, the rhythm perfect and unyielding. Rarity’s hollered words and the hoofsteps matched in tandem all the way across the floor. The strange cacophony of noise should’ve been chaos, but the precision of their timing made the sound more pleasing to the ear than they had any right to be.

Tempest could not hold back her soft smile as she stopped in front of Rarity. Her timing was impeccable, her body in time with her hooves, her –

“You got too haughty toward the end,” Rarity said, head shaking. “Models must have passion, but not arrogance. Keep your face set and knock off those smug little grins.” She pointed at Tempest’s hooves. “And you were lifting your hooves too high that time. They should go up above your barrel, but not above your chest.”

Tempest closed her eyes and sighed.

“And keep your eyes open too. None of this squinting business. Eyes are the window to the soul, so the audience needs to see them as wide open as possible.”

“I…” Tempest rolled a hoof through her hair. “Rarity, why can’t I just walk like myself?”

“Because that’s not how models walk, Tempest.”

“But you wanted a Mare of Action, right? Somepony who could walk like a tough fighter? Well, that’s how I walk.” She squinted her eyes and marched in a circle, her front hooves going up all the way to her chest. A proud face filled her visage as she gazed around the shop, like she was a queen surveying her kingdom. With a sudden stop, she turned and faced Rarity.

Rarity shook her head. “It’s a lovely walk, darling. But it’s not what will fit in a fashion show.”

“And this hokum you’re teaching me will? It’s fake! Nopony walks like that in real life.”

“Of course not. It’s exaggerated, but exquisite. Ponies can see what a dress looks like and how a mare wears it. A model’s job is to add their own touch, while not distracting from the dress itself.”

“I can add my own touch,” Tempest huffed. “Just let me walk like I normally walk.”

Rarity shook her head. “Your natural walk denotes precision, but not humility. You’re used to having ponies notice you wherever you go, so restraining yourself on that account will denote a discipline in your manner.”

Tempest shook her head. “You shouldn’t be lecturing a former military commander on discipline.”

“Well, I am. And you’ll need it if you’re to impress the Canterlot fashion scene.”

“Who I don’t care about,” Tempest grumbled.

“Do you care about yourself, then? How ponies see you?”

Tempest sighed. “You know I do.” Her eyes lit up. “In fact, that’s why I should walk like myself. My walk is a part of me, and changing it would lie about who I am. You wanted me for my authenticity to the theme, right? Then I should be myself!”

Rarity leaned her head back, deep in thought. Then, a wry smile came across her face.

“Alright then, Tempest,” she said in a relaxed tone. “You want to walk as yourself? Then answer this single question.”

“Shoot.”

“Who are you?”

Confusion filled Tempest’s face. “I’m…I’m Tempest Shadow.”

“Alright. Who is that?”

“Me,” she huffed.

“No, I mean who is that? What makes up Tempest? What are her desires and fears?”

Tempest rolled her eyes. “You’re not trying to get me into philosophy too, are you?”

“No, I’m simply asking you to say who you are.”

“Why?”

“Because you have to know yourself before you can explain it to anypony else. Tell me who you are as a pony and how your walk shows who you are. Then you can walk however you want on my runway.”

“Alright then…I’m a former military commander.”

Rarity shook her head. “Pure biography. Say something of substance.”

Tempest shrugged. “I…like apricots.”

“So do many school-fillies. Doesn’t tell me anything notable about Tempest Shadow.”

The unicorn threw her hooves up in the air. “Then I guess I’m nopony at all!”

Rarity shook her head. “No. You’re somepony, Tempest. You just don’t know who.”

“Yes I d-“

“Did you think you’d be here a year ago?”

“What?”

“Did you think you’d be here, in Canterlot, among ponies again and learning how to model?”

“Of course not.”

“Did you think you would be traveling the world on your own volition, or did you expect to serve the Storm King for the rest of your life?”

Tempest sighed. “You already know the answer.”

“And would you say that your whole life changed the day Twilight saved you, despite everything you did?”

“…Yes.”

“Then how would you know who you are just a few months after that? Do you think your past self would recognize the mare you became, even if it was for the better? Could you even be called the same pony as her?”

Tempest said nothing, with only the crunching steps of ponies on the snow-laden street outside making any noise through the boutique.

Rarity put a hoof on Tempest’s shoulder. “I don’t say this to upset you, Tempest. Only to make a point. You are a good pony now, I have no doubt, and I thank you so much for doing this fashion show for me. But I want you to see my perspective, not be cast off as an obsessive creative who pulls opinions and critiques out of her flank. And…And I want you to know who you are too, so that when this is all over, you can hold your head up high and not live your life in shame anymore.”

A soft laugh came from Tempest. “Twilight put you up to this, didn’t she?”

Rarity smiled. “No, but she’d probably appreciate my method.”

Tempest sighed. “Well, alright then. Let’s keep practicing and see if I can become myself, if not a model.”

Rarity beamed. “Now that’s the determination I’d expect from a military mare.”

Author's Note

It was important to show Rarity as teacher in this part. Tempest's worldview really was shook when the Storm King betrayed her, so she really needed somepony to show her who she could be.