The Eternal Date

“It looks absolutely perfect, dear,” said Rarity.

“And not a pebble out of place!” Twilight trotted closer to the wall and pushed her hoof against the brick she had just inserted, testing its firmness.

“Dare I say, you've gotten quite skilled at it.”

“No, that's not—” Twilight frowned momentarily before shaking her head and smiling warmly at the other unicorn. “Actually, how about we go to that bakery you mentioned recently? Only if you have the time, of course.”

“For you, Twilight?” Rarity looked deep into her eyes, her gaze conveying all the reassurance Twilight could ever need. “Always.”

The trees swayed gently in the pleasant, autumnal breeze, the sound of their rustling leaves carrying through the spotless streets of Ponyville. The two mares sat in companionable silence, too focused on each other to pay attention to their perfectly preserved surroundings.

“So, Twilight, how have you been doing lately?” Rarity slowly sloshed the coffee in her cup. An espresso, just like she always had it.

“Same old, same old.” Twilight’s laugh came a little too quickly. “Ponyville looks beautiful this time of year, doesn’t it?”

“It does. It well and truly does.” She closed her eyes to bask in the glow of the afternoon Sun. That was one of the things that never lost its charm. As if on command, a gust of wind carried a trail of golden leaves through the street, one after another, giving each a little swirl before disappearing behind one of the houses.

“I'm so glad you're here with me.”

Rarity opened her eyes and looked to the horizon behind Twilight, where the newest spires of Canterlot boldly pierced the heavens as they climbed ever higher. She didn't recognize any of them, but paid it no heed. “I wouldn't want to be anywhere else, Twilight. But you need to rest; all this work can’t be healthy.” She giggled at her own joke. “Believe me, darling, I should know.”

“I can rest when I’m dead.” The words fell heavy between them, draining the color from Rarity’s face. For a moment neither of them could say anything, and absolute silence reigned in the town.

“Twilight, I…”

Twilight’s eyes shot open. Her ears fell, and she ducked her head, ashamed. “Oh gosh, I ruined things again, didn’t I? I’m so sorry!”

“You didn’t ruin anything.” Rarity smiled weakly. “And when I said that the town looks lovely, I meant it.”

“Thank you.”

When Twilight finally lifted a spoonful of strawberry cake to her mouth, she barely paid attention to its ashen taste. The Sun's mournful rays couldn't reach her, either; she had long since grown numb to them.

The bell jingled softly as Twilight stepped into the Boutique. She closed the door behind herself. Rarity was already inside, looking out the window at the setting Sun.

“I apologize for my bluntness, but I believe I need to ask you this, Twilight: have you heard anything from them recently?” She tore her gaze from the window to focus on her guest. The steely glint of dedication in her eyes kept Twilight from looking away.

Twilight jumped back in surprise, her composure shattering when the meaning of the words finally reached her. She gasped. “Rarity! How could you?!”

Rarity took a step forward. “This is the only way I can help you,” she said before sighing heavily. “Please, Twilight. You're hurting. I can't keep watching you tear yourself apart like this.”

“What do you mean?” She cast an accusatory glance that didn’t conceal the wavering of her voice. “I'm fine.”

“No, you're not. I think I would know after all this time.” Shaking her head, Rarity turned towards the kitchen and trotted off. She stopped to look back before crossing the threshold. “I'll put on the tea for us. When I come back, you'll tell me everything, alright?”

“O… okay,” stammered out Twilight. When she sank down on the couch, her wing caught on a bolt of fabric. She looked at her feathered limb in dismay. Cursing softly under her breath, she extended it and sent a little of her magic through her primaries. They began shining with all the colors of a rainbow, their brilliant glow bathing her surroundings in a cascade of colors. As they scattered farther away, the lights reflected off of the many impeccably polished surfaces in the Boutique.

Twilight turned to the unicorn who reentered the room. Tears glistened in the corners of her eyes. “I learned that spell for you, didn't I?”

“And I find it just as stunning as the first time you showed it to me.” Rarity sat on the couch next to Twilight, almost—but not quite—touching her. Her snout scrunched up in mock frustration. “Even if it ruined my plans for the proposal. It was going to be perfect!”

Twilight snorted through the unshed tears. “That’s the one time I caught you by surprise; I am not forgetting it any time soon!” She reached out to boop the unicorn on the nose, but her hoof passed through Rarity. The smile on Twilight’s face died immediately. “Oh. I forgot again.”

Rarity offered her a faltering smile of her own. Her expression looked more peaceful than it ever had in life. “It’s just how things are, darling. But no sense in dwelling on that now; you promised to tell me what you did!”

“I… I did promise that.” Twilight sighed. She dared to look up and into the brilliant sapphire eyes of the mare she loved. “I read a little of the newspapers they left me. It was good to learn that the Apples are still doing well despite moving away from Ponyville. Would you believe I’m already turning into a legend? An article reported on the rumors of a ‘Witch Princess’ who drains magic from half of Equestria. It hasn’t even been fifty years, and they’ve already turned me into a myth!”

Rarity beamed up and clapped her hooves. “Oh, don’t mind them, dear—I’m sure it felt a lot longer for them. Nevertheless, I’m so proud of you for making that first step, darling!”

“There was a letter, too.” Twilight’s detached voice betrayed no emotion as it cut through the room.

“Oh dear. From… them, I presume?”

“Yes. I didn’t burn it, but I left it unopened. To be honest, Rarity, I’m not sure if I’ll ever forgive them for not wanting to help.”

“You must understand, their perspective is… different than yours.” Rarity bit her lip. “And what you proposed was very…” she trailed off.

“Heretical?” Twilight didn’t hold back her bitter sarcasm. “Maybe blasphemous?”

Rarity flinched as if struck. “I was going to say ‘unconventional’, darling. Although perhaps ‘scandalous’ is more fitting, considering the circumstances. There is a reason why in the legends it’s always the evil dark wizards who practice such magic.”

“Only because those wizards lack the means to do it right!” Twilight countered. Her wings flared out as she continued in a ragged voice, “I double- and triple-checked my calculations! With their assistance, I could not just peer past the veil but actually bring somepony back!”

“What if something went wrong? Could you live with the consequences of a failed spell?”

Twilight shook her head emphatically. “It wouldn’t fail. It couldn’t! There was absolutely no chance of it.”

“Twilight! Please look at me.” Rarity paused, waiting for the alicorn to calm down. She picked up her cup of tea and sipped from it. Lowering her voice to a much gentler tone, she continued, “You are—without a doubt—the best sorceress Equestria has ever seen. But I’ve known you for many years, and I have also seen some of your experimental spells fail when they ‘had no chance to’.”

“You don’t understand! This—”

Rarity shook her head slowly. “And maybe there are some barriers we weren’t meant to cross.”

“No, you can’t say that, Rarity! Not when your life is on the line!”

“But it’s not, is it? We’re long past that.” When Twilight could find no answer to Rarity’s response, the unicorn stood up from the couch and walked to the window which showed the perfect view of the setting Sun. “As fabulous as I look, I’m not really here, Twilight; I’m just a memory. Please, you have to accept that.”

Twilight lowered her head in shame. The tears were flowing freely now, but she did not care. Nopony could see her crying anyway. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to do that, either. I fear that the moment I let you go, you’ll completely disappear. The bakery we went to, the one where Pinkie Pie lived—I can no longer remember its name, and it’s only been what, forty-seven years? I promised myself that I’d never let that happen to you, Rarity!”

“And you won’t. Besides, you need not worry about that. It may be presumptuous of me to say it aloud, but I’d like to think that I’ve left enough of a mark on your life that you couldn’t possibly get rid of it all even if you tried.” Rarity risked a small smile. “A part of me will live on in you forever.”

“I… I…” Twilight sniffled and wiped her eyes. Seeing nothing but reassurance in Rarity’s own, she added, “I’ll keep thinking about it. Thank you. Will you assist me with the spark?”

Rarity winced slightly. “You know I hate doing that to you, dear. It’s not a good way to cope.”

“I know, but I need this. It’s so much easier than doing it alone.” Her voice dropped to barely a weak whisper, but in the perfect silence of a Boutique, Rarity could hear every word. “Please, I can’t bear how lonely it feels otherwise.”

“Alright.” Rarity turned around and lowered her head until their horns were almost touching. She met Twilight’s gaze for the final time and, with all the warmth she could put into that short sentence, she whispered, “I love you, Twilight.”

“And I love you too, Rarity.” She closed her eyes, holding onto the image of Rarity imprinted on her eyelids. Her horn briefly flared with purple flames. “I miss you more than I could ever say.”

But Rarity did not hear her parting words, for in the meantime the Sun had set completely, ushering a new night and breaking Twilight’s illusion as it always did.

Twilight left the boutique swallowed by the magical fire. In just a few moments it would turn to ash, and the rest of Ponyville would soon follow. The Moon watched her with quiet pity, but Twilight, once again, didn’t do it the courtesy of looking back. She didn’t need its judgment—or its sympathy.

She was a very busy mare.

After all, she didn’t want to keep her date waiting. She had an entire town to rebuild—and only until sunrise to do it.