The Realistic Applications of the Magic of Friendship

It had been a few days since your arrival to Ponyville; Twilight had been busy, with both her friends and her tasks, but she had used the little bits of spare time she had to introduce you to her assistant and, from time to time, occupy you in friendly conversation. You were surprised, in a way; you didn’t expect a draconic being to be so tiny, nor did you expect him to be anything but a brute. From some more chatting with the small dragon, you had figured out that Twilight had hatched him, and he had been raised by her his whole life; you suppose that explained his demeanour, in some ways. Just from watching, you could see that he was always helping out Twilight, although you took note of one major way he assisted her: writing. Unless he was absent, you rarely saw her pick up a quill for the frequent letter or the more than common report; it seemed off, in a way, but you didn’t care much about it. More pressing issues were at hoof.

One such issue was your nights, as they were particularly troubling; the nightmares kept repeating, morphing into new scenarios and becoming all the more bothersome. Whatever was invading your dreams was powerful; despite your concentration and will, every time it stayed for longer, but it never manifested beyond a voice. In due time, you were certain it would take a physical form; the only saving grace was that you were, fortunately, used to such a lack of sleep. It would take much more than that to dislodge you from your task. As sleepless as your nights had been, they were productive; you were nearing the end of first forgery, of sorts, with a fair bit of additional pages remaining in your copy, more than were remaining in the original book. At this rate, perhaps you could just leave Twilight a message on the last few pages; while she had gotten you a journal, and you had discussed your nightmares in a brief, unspecific manner, but not your late night writing, you had been especially vague and neglected to mention much else. Simply stating something along the lines of your sleep being plagued with such dreams, and your time spent asleep was less effective, well, it was true, in the grand scheme of things.

It still felt a little wrong to mislead her like that. Even if you were close to revealing it, if she asked, you still had to make sure she didn’t find out; at this point, she had nearly torn apart the library while looking for it, and you can only imagine she did the same for her room. That left very few areas to inspect, and time was short; you doubt she’d look in the kitchen for a book, so that room would merely be glanced over, and unless there was a basement or closet that had yet to be checked, she would shortly search the room she allowed you to reside it. The only positive was that it would take but a single night to complete your work, and even if today would be taxing, as you were finally going outside the library for the first time since your arrival, you would ensure that you would finish tonight. Afterwards, it merely became a matter of how to bestow your work to her; you’d cross that bridge when you got there, and if need be you would simply leave both of the goods, along with a note, in a place she was certain to find them.

Given that how today was the first time you would leave the library, you had some other positive thoughts circulating in your mind; Twilight had requested permission to remove your chains, but not your shackles, from her mentor, and somehow, she had accepted. While she had spoken to you a little about it, you had no problem understanding her simple logic; the actual shackles contained the enchantment, and the chains would simply cause problems in the long term, both for you and her, in terms of attracting attention. Celestia has graciously accepted that suggestion, and so your hooves felt better; not to mention you moved as quietly as before, and that would make surprising Twilight with your gift a much easier task. Ponies wouldn’t be staring at you as much, unlike your arrival; you had been reassured of that, and it made sense, since it would merely look like some sort of style now, rather than an indication of your crimes. You simply hoped that nopony would properly remember you from your initial travel to the library, because you’d hate to make it even more difficult to make some friends, and that was what Twilight wanted of you for her experiments.

In any case, today had already begun; Spike had cooked a delicious omelette, and while you had been apprehensive about eating it at first, since chickens came from eggs, Twilight had explained, very simply, that if hens were kept away from roosters, the eggs would not be fertilized, so they were safe to eat without the egg having a chance of hatching. You had felt stupid that she had to teach you that, and even more idiotic since you hadn’t even vocalized your ill feeling, but she had still perceived it. Even more importantly, it worried you that if she asked anything about her missing document, well, she’d be able to easily see through whatever small ruse you attempted to mount, and you’d be in bad predicament. Until now, at least, she hadn’t asked you yet, but you had overheard a chat between her and her assistant about it; both were clueless about the whereabouts, so at least your hiding spot had yet to be uncovered. If it was not found today, you were essentially safe; you could only hope that neither of them entered that room, and if they did, that the bed remain untouched and unturned.

While your preparations for the day were little, all mental and amounting to very little amounts of effort, Twilight’s effort was much greater, but still involved relatively little physical work. At most, you could perhaps count that she had removed your chains, but that’s all; the brisk trek over to her friend’s house could hardly be counted as physical activity, considering how she had no saddlebags and it was a purely social visit, for her. Her findings need only be recorded after your visit, and you were the one who had to be more prepared; her research involved you, and if you were inadequate in preparation or action, then she would falter in that domain. You couldn’t let that happen, especially if you were the cause; you couldn’t atone yourself in any way if you let that happen. Not in your eyes, at least; perhaps Twilight would find it in her generous, compassionate heart to forgive you, but she would be too kind if she did. So much of her precious time wasted, all for naught, while the large amount of time you had, unoccupied by other tasks, should guarantee, at the very least, an ample amount of information for her, and if you failed, it was nopony’s fault but yours.

The odd battle between thoughts in your brain began to subside as the time of departure neared. Instead, curiosity on who you were to visit began to pique your mind; Twilight had, over the course of your days of relative isolation, attempted to at least chat with you. Anything she said would enthrall you, and so you allowed her to choose the subjects; ideally, subjects which were dear to her, such as her friends, or her study of the sciences, astronomy and magic in particular. In the few conversations you had with her, the subject tended to drift towards her friends, rather than the sciences, although she did venture into the more concrete realm of her experimentations more than once, but at every occasion, she must have noticed the engraved look of confusion upon your face. Instead of remaining in a world you were totally blind to, she tended to avoid it and remain within a world you could comprehend. At the very least, you ensured that you attempted to retain the names of her friends from the bulk of her conversations, but when your worries were nearly eating apart your mind every time she was around, it was difficult to remember much else, even if you attempted to.

Shaking your head to clear your thoughts, reality began to take precedence over your inner quarrel; breakfast was had, and Twilight was just wrapping up a few of her early morning duties with Spike before you two were to head out to her friend’s house. She had been particularly vague, and neglected to mention who it was you were visiting, but those were details you didn’t need; what you needed was simple. Data. With the lack of information you had, partially due to your own neglect when she spoke to you, as you were more concerned with hiding any sort of guilty gestures or twitches, it was difficult to understand exactly what Twilight had wanted you to accomplish. It didn’t take much to assume that it may relate to your magical abilities, but that was so unspecific you couldn’t possibly obtain some information she needed; you’d have to ask her as soon as you got a chance, if it could be done without showing ignorance on your part. To ensure you were helping her as much as you could.

During your down time, which you had gotten quite used to, as writing during the day was far too risky, even if the other occupants of the library were busy, you had wandered around the main area a fair bit; Twilight had, of course, told you that you were free to borrow any books, although you should tell her which one as soon as you took it. It made you feel even worse about what you had done, but you couldn’t change the past. For a few minutes, you browsed the various shelves, reading only the titles of books; from what you assumed were novels, with titles that ranged from imaginative to silly, to heavy scientific books with a very clear, concise title, to some sort of cooking recipes… In short, this library seemed to have a dash of everything; a veritable alchemic hodgepodge that, even if you were sure it was enjoyed by the other occupants, did very little for you.

Some hoofsteps drew you away from your perusing, clearly, Twilight had finished with her other duties, and was ready to escort you to your destination; you’re certain that if she could just send you with directions, she would, as it would allow her more time to focus on her work, but if she was willing to take time out of her busy schedule for you… it would be incredibly rude to refuse it. “I’m sorry it took so long, we can be on our way right now.” Her voice was, as always, a pleasure to hear, and without wasting too much time in completing your pointless browsing, you gave her your full attention. “Sure.” While it was simple, you always felt a little awkward around her; she was smart, beautiful, pure, caring… everything you weren’t, and it showed painfully every second she honoured you with her presence. As brief as your words with her were, you treasured them, and would continue to do so as long as she would speak with you; however, you didn’t want to waste any more of her time than you had to, as you were certain she didn’t value yours as highly.

Your veritable caretaker smiled, and opened the door to her library; you weren’t going to keep her waiting any longer than needed, so you hastily trotted over behind her. As she exited, and you followed, you kept to her side, although a few hoofsteps behind, as she was leading you and you weren’t really aware of where you were going to end up; Ponyville didn’t seem as complicated as Canterlot, but it was a completely alien territory to you, devoid of alleys and abandoned buildings. Those were familiar, safe zones to you, which you cherished more than the average pony would be fond of their home; at the very least, Twilight made you feel safer. She was Celestia’s student, and as much as you hated using that as a justification for your logic, it meant that Twilight had to be very proficient at spell casting. Even if she wasn’t your friend, deep down you at least felt that way, it made you feel safe, even if you were walking out in the open. It was oddly pleasant, despite the amount of ponies around; that did make you a little edgy, consistently glancing around and wary of being watched. Perhaps Twilight noticed this, and in an attempt to calm you down and draw your mind away from the unfamiliar ground, begun conversing with you.

“So…” Perhaps she was searching for a subject, but it seemed more like she was intentionally adding a pause; her tone was casual, relaxed, much different than the scholarly or instructive one she had taken with you on your first day in Ponyville. “How are you enjoying the accommodations?” It was an idle question, serving little purpose other than to distract you, but not replying would be rude. “Great. I like it.” While your reply lacked enthusiasm, it did not lack sincerity; you should probably continue the thought, so she doesn’t think you’re merely doing it out of idle obligation, and more out of true appreciation. “It’s a lot better than where I was before; first time I’ve slept with blankets in a while…” You sigh softly, intimately recalling the feeling during your first night of slumber; while your actual sleep was disturbed by your, now somewhat recurring, melancholic dream, the actual physical state of your rest was lovely. “Excellent. I’m sorry that I’ve been so busy, lately; moving into a new town is a bit exhausting.” She smiled, slightly giddy, as she began to speak about the purpose of your visit to her friend’s house.

“I’ve put a fair bit of thought into your first exposure to the elements I suspect relate to your lack of magical abilities. Once you begin to see and adopt certain of these qualities, traits, and other such aspects I believe relate to such an incoherence in your spell-casting, I theorize that your dormant abilities will awake.” You didn’t quite understand all of that, or much, really; just things about magic and the fact that maybe you could use it at some point. Whatever it took, you’d do; if it was for her, whether you understood it or not. She was just explaining, with little need for a reply, so you didn’t answer her; instead, you took in the sights a little more.

The town really did look lovely, now that you took the time to admire it during your walk; no run down houses, while not comforting, in some ways, was aesthetically pleasing, in others. Many ponies were awake at this hour, and seemed not to take notice of you as your eyes wandered around the various buildings; most had a roof of straw and wooden walls, a very rural contrast to the stony buildings in Canterlot. The atmosphere itself was light, joyful, with many ponies freely chatting, easily breaking their conversation to greet a fellow townsfolk, inviting them for a bout of gossip or some other topic; others were enjoying a simple morning meal, a bout of unfenced gardening, or merely relaxing in a park off in the distance. “The town hall is just up ahead; past that is Sugarcube Corner, and a little further on is Carousel Boutique. You’ll be spending most of the day there.”

Twilight’s explanation, sudden, was not missed. You can remember the names of those locations being mentioned before, although the ponies who occupied them didn’t surface in your mind. “It sounds fancy. That last place.” While your dejected tone wasn’t directed at her, it was present; with such a fancy name, you just hoped you were speaking with a pony who didn’t adopt the same traits that the name exemplified. “She’s a good friend of mine; she’s a little melodramatic, but she’s also very generous. I think you’ll learn to enjoy her company once you get to know her, and you can both teach each other a lot.” Teach each other a lot? Her phrase, once again on a slightly scholarly, if simplistic, tone, confused you; what could some snobby pony have to possibly teach you? You didn’t want to contest Twilight, but if there were a few things you knew better than her, one of them was surely the way high-class ponies acted among the peasants of the realm; she was protected by Celestia, the most self-proclaimed noble of them all, and you doubted anypony was stupid enough to offend her. She wasn’t ignorant of the situation; she hadn’t turned a blind eye, but she didn’t see reality as it was, since she was never exposed to it. You had been.

“Alright… but I don’t buy it.” You didn’t sound convinced, and made no effort to hide it. Fancy ponies were all the same; it didn’t matter who they were, where they came from or what they did: the differences were minuscule between them. You’d stomach this for your hostess, but that’s all; you’d tolerate today, and be done with it. You hated to say it, but you were sure Twilight was wrong about this. This was your realm of expertise; hers was magic, and as you respected her opinion on it, she should respect yours on this. She, however, was quick to contest, but she didn’t completely annihilate your position. “Don’t judge a book by its cover. There’s a very good lesson in that saying.” She turned around, smiling, perhaps a little smugly, or just sure of herself, and then left you to mull over that.

While you two moved through Ponyville, passing the town hall, a tall structure that stood a tad farther away from most other buildings, and crossed by a stone statue, you thought about those words. Judge a book by the cover? It wasn’t looking at the cover; it was classifying it by genre. If it was a romantic book, it had romance; if it was adventure, it had action, and so on… If it was fancy, it was high-strung, egotistic and better than you, or so they thought. Needless to say, you weren’t going to be learning anything; although, maybe you could teach whoever you were spending the day with a lesson in humility and decency. It’s unlikely they’d listen, but it’d occupy your time for the day, and it would sort of be what Twilight wanted you to do; you would be teaching her, or trying to, and maybe you’d learn a little bit about whatever it is she did. You were, to a degree, meeting her goals.

Sugarcube Corner, or so you assumed, began to appear during your inner ramblings; it seemed like a confectionary building, not only by name, but by stature, with various sweets decorating the building, in particular the roof. Whether it was actual glaze, chocolate and other such goodies, or merely remarkable architectural effects, it gave the building a very appropriate sheen; your tongue licked your lips slightly, as such treats were a rarity for you, one which you savoured at every occasion. Twilight must have seen you, or the small strand of saliva running down your face from the corner of your mouth; she laughed softly, before commenting, part of the same intellectual tone present. “It’s not actually confections; they’re just very well crafted substances that mimic the texture of sweets on a consistent basis. Even on very hot, or cold, days, where normal materials would melt, or freeze and crack off, specific enchantments allow them to maintain their form. The design is so realistic I actually had to look into it myself to be sure!” You crack a smile at the thought; you would’ve jumped to the conclusion, but she had taken the time to verify it herself. “It does look pretty real...” You almost wanted to give one of the chocolate portions a taste, just in case, but you had other matters which needed tending; plus, you’d probably end up making a fool out of yourself.

It really seemed like whoever’s boutique this was, it was a mere stone’s toss away from that heaven of goodies. This structure seemed to be particularly high-maintenance, with a figure of a pony draped over the doorway, embroidered on a piece of pure, white fabric; something expensive, you were sure. The store, you assumed at least, as the curtains were open and you could see mannequins on the inside, towered above many of the other structures; needless displays of wealth and power. After all, it was so much bigger than it needed to be to accommodate the traffic on the average day; from what you assumed was average when you glanced out the window in your room, at least. Even if they had such traffic, the outside was decorated in such a way that made it practically glimmer in imitated royalty; an aspect that everypony who wished they had been born into the regal realm shamelessly attempted to adopt. You knew the inside would be decorated in the same manner, and that whoever this was, their accent would be unfamiliar to the region; probably not proper Canterlot dialect, but something that seemed high-strung and seemed plausible, to those who hadn’t visited the capital. It was a facade, for sure, but you’d be glad to point it out to them, as often as possible; you doubt that they would be exceedingly polite the moment Twilight left you two alone.

As you two approached the door, Twilight neglected to instantly barge in; instead, her hoof knocked against the door politely, loud enough to be heard, but not so forceful as to seem rushed or demanding. It was considerate of her; something you would lack for the occupant. A feminine, posh voice chimed in, simply asking to wait a moment; even with such a small portion of speech to hear, you could already tell she tried to portray that she wasn’t from here, or perhaps she actually wasn’t, but the way she swung as many needless words as she did into her message didn’t bode well with you. It took a few seconds for her to arrive at the door, exchanging quaint greetings with Twilight; she glanced curiously at you, raising a brow, as if she hadn’t been informed of your inevitable presence, or perhaps even what the task was, although she had a gleam in her eyes for a moment before it faded, as if she was piecing together a puzzle that you weren't aware of. Her pure white coat, clearly impeccably cared for with weekly spa trips and coifed mane, violet in color and curled in some sort of ‘style’ crystallized your theory; she was clearly one of those ponies, and the next few hours would probably be spent attempting to socialize with her in a reasonable way, all efforts in vain, of course.

Twilight effortlessly breached the threshold into the pristine, prim unicorn's home, and, reluctantly, you followed suit, your eyes wandering about the insides meticulously, the 'proper' interior stinging your eyes with its radiant opulence. Unlike Twilight's Ponyville accommodations, the other unicorn's more sumptuous abode, drenched in luxurious silk and drowning in the fragrances of whatever perfumes she wore on a daily basis, made you feel uncomfortable. Unfitting. Not that you fit in elsewhere, but such high standards never bode well for your morale, and you never rose to meet them: today would be no exception. Twilight must have been accustomed to such realms of royalty, or in this case the wanton feel of its impersonation; with the amount of highly decorated mannequins, all bearing flagrantly classy outfits, each and every mare's figure trimmed into the appearance of a typical, generic, boring, high-class mare: a sarcastically shocking representation of the occupant herself.

Introductions were never something you had many of, if any, that were pleasurable; you were supposed to be nice, at least a little, but how do you convey that in a greeting to somepony who's embodying everything you despise? For a few, fleeting, moments, an awkward silence mixed itself into the scene, an observation you noted very quickly, and while you could have relied on either of the mares to initiate and break the stillness, you had promised to try and socialize... the least you can do is try one aspect of it. You'd seen casual acquaintances in Canterlot greet a fair bit, and you extend a hoof in an imperfect imitation, unsure of the correct distance or posture to adopt, before your somewhat dismissive voice chimes in, a sort of echo towards the usual Canterlot dialogue she must be accustomed to. "Hi. I'm... Calligraphy. I guess you're..." There was a moment of recollection inside of you, amidst the sea of hesitation, trying to think of her name; it figures that you'd omit Twilight's most high-horsed friend from your memories. After a quick process of elimination, you decide to hazard a guess, your lack of confidence displaying itself prominently in your voice. "Rarity, I think?..."

Despite the exceedingly clear lack of confidence, her hoof extended to grip yours and, in that nearly tentative way befitting of making acquaintances, shook it lightly, before her melodic, carefully intoned voice glided outwards to greet you. "Of course, it is always a pleasure to meet an admirer! It is fantastic to make your acquaintance, darling." Her voice already began to give you a headache, that artificially sophisticated accent nothing but an annoyance in the air around you; that overly confident ego was another type of pain, and it nearly made you sick to your stomach in disgust. Despite looking directly at you, her blue eyes seemed intentionally distant, focusing around you rather than upon you; that sort of uninterested facade, with the goal of piquing another's curiosity, forcing them to speculate as to why she was like that, and in turn causing many to attempt, without success, to rapt her attention.

With a stiff gesture, you removed your hoof after she seemed to, somehow, grow even more tired of your presence. Excusing yourself, with the paltry reason of 'looking at her pretty dresses', you broke away from the two mares and began your facade of examination, while they began to chat peacefully, probably catching up with each other, or discussing about you; Rarity did give a sort of raised brow at your lack of eloquence, but you shrugged it off as social obligations on her part. Your glance on her dresses was somewhat genuine, but generic; you had seen the same sort of gems on many a garb in Canterlot, in the same sort of self-proposed 'unique' styles that were truly no different from whatever resident fashionista made their home next door, much less the one that was but a town away. Each garment radiated that aura of attempted, self-proposed perfection; they appeared to be flawless gems in the rough, diamonds shimmering in a night sky, but they were no better, nor more well crafted, than what you could get anywhere else in town: of that, you were sure.

You aren't sure how long the two unicorns spent talking while you looked around, but you kept feeling a suspicious gaze from behind you; you never turned to look, long since used to such feelings, and it felt almost judging in its aura. Rarity, for certain; eventually, you were called over again, fortunately by Twilight. You were careful in moving around the dresses, not brushing a single errant hair of your coat over them; you'd give Rarity no reason to hate you, if only for the satisfaction of her hatred afterwards. The boutique was empty, save for you three, and it made explanations rather simple; you'd be here for the day, with Rarity, for what Twilight didn't specify. It made you rather uneasy, although you were sure she wasn't dangerous in the least, the uncertainty serves to worry, rather than excite. Regardless, you responded with an attempt at a courteous "All right, Twilight...", and Rarity seemed somewhat pleased. Her eyes were almost shining now, glistening with every slight movement of her pupils as she looked over you in your entirety... and it made you nervous. She suddenly seemed so involved and spurred with some form of intense dedication and enthrallment with you; wondering what they spoke about gave no clues that you could think of, but it caught you off guard.

As soon as Twilight shut the door behind you, the remaining unicorn nearly pounced on you, her eyes still in possession of that glittering fervour. "You're from... Canterlot! Oh, I am so envious, the glamour, the style, the class!... you simply must tell me about it." At the mention of the capital her high-strung voiced waned, and you took a step back; she had, in a split second, seemed almost enthralled by the very mention of that unfortunate fact. Her reaction threw you off for a moment, and she seemed to ignore the fact that your body was not donning the most exquisite outfit, nor was your coiffure particularly well done; you cleared your throat for a moment, although not in the regal manner she must have been thinking of, before replying in a manner that must have shattered the fantasized form she had created of you, and her beloved Canterlot, in her mind.

"I'm not from the Canterlot that you want to know. I didn't grow up in some mansion or castle, I grew up in a house that's barely standing. I steal from other ponies because I don't have a choice." As you spoke your gaze grew harsher, staring directly into her eyes as they began to appear more sympathetic with each word, that artificial action that every self respecting Canterlot mare knew how to do on command. "When I went home I hoped the guard didn't find me, and that the other ponies in the slums didn't either, because I'd be gone in a second. You should ignore me, you'll see the pretty, fake side of Canterlot that way... and I bet that's what you want." You walked past her, her eyes following yours, while your own were distant, ignoring her gaze and any movements; reminiscing as you walked, your empty eyes settled one of the back window as you moved towards it, your own hated reflection staring back at you. "I had a chance to be happy once, and it's gone. You're best to leave me alone, or I'll drag you down."

There were a few moments of silence as you reflected on what had just been said, noting how it slowly drifted towards yourself, but it was of little matter; you said things as they were, free of the veils that other ponies put on not to see, and you were not above such obligatory honesty. Rarity's soft hoofsteps echoed out, and with more careful listening you could hear muffled sounds from outdoors, although it was overshadowed by her light breaking, a few light, restrained sniffles joining her hoofsteps. "That is... not quite how I envisioned Canterlot-" She began, but you were rather quick to cut her off just there, noticing her approach in the window. "Nopony thinks it looks that way. They always think it's so perfect, that there's no problems... they forgot about ponies like me." A rather long sigh left your lips, fogging the window for a moment, before it dissipated, revealing Rarity next to you; your eyes spotted her, just barely, in their peripheral vision, but her reflection was much clearer, with each refined element of her constructed composure being visible.

"Now, perhaps certain ponies possess the nerve to ignore you, and commit such atrocities against others... but I shall not stoop to such uncouth, vile levels." One of her hooves grazed against your shoulder, the manicured, polished and trimmed limb urging you to follow her; reluctantly, you allowed her to guide you as you ventured upwards, on set of stairs leading to the second floor, while she continued. "You may have guessed, darling, but I am a couturier, and I would simply adore enlightening you to the proper aspects of haute-culture." With every step your body shuddered softly, while you took a deep, calming breath; she had the gall to suggest that you didn't know exactly how her kin operated, when she was the one who was blind. "While I certainly have not sewn any stallion focused attire, I am certain that you would not mind being the first to receive such a gift, darling?" She gazed back on you, with your face rather calm, despite your inner sense of hatred rising more with each passing moment, that seemed to stretch on far more than normal chronology would allow,

"I guess... but I don't like fancy stuff." She almost seemed to take offense from your reply as the stairs ended, a sort of shocked, overly dramatic gasp leaving her mouth, before she huffed off, trotting with her nose high in the air while she spoke. "Nonsense! You have, clearly, not seen a truly refined individual, nor experienced the proper sophistication they may offer." You sighed, internally, not wanting to provoke her into more outbursts of the genre; merely nodding as she looked to ensure you were indeed following, and not pilfering what you could of her gem garbed dressed downstairs, before she dipped into one of the rooms in the hall. Following suit, what greeted you was... peculiar. You had expect a meticulously organized space, with every item being within the grasp of her magic at any point, while it formed some sort of particular pattern that she judged aesthetically correct, and that any other would be, by its very nature, disorganized...

Rolls of satin, silk or whatever designer fabric were strewn across the floor, mannequins were placed in a haphazard fashion, some with bits of partially completed dresses on, others with the strangest combination of pieces that seemed more like a designer's travesty than pride; her needles were scattered in various places, some near her sewing machine, others on tables, others placed precariously close to the window... it seemed like a hurricane of some sort had bombarded the room, launching it into disarray from whatever pristine state it had been in before.

Rarity, however, seemed completely calm in the face of such utter visual chaos; instead of frantically searching for her tools, much less her supplies, her magical aura accurately began to envelop various fabrics around the room as she trotted to its center, each of them seeming to be exactly what she desired while they made their way into her field of vision. Tentatively, you took a few steps within her realm, taking great care not to disturb any of her belongings; one of her tables seemed to be more organized than the others, and she set to work upon it, a haven of order imposing itself upon the artificial chaos that continuously threatened to enshroud it. In a way, it almost reminded you of home, or what was left of it, with its volatile exterior, while small pockets of attempted refuge would form; it soothed you, slightly, made you more at ease as, still in a careful matter, probed closer to the artist at work, just as she mentioned that she needed a few measurements. It took a few moments of her aura wrapping the tapes around you, and a few surprised notations, most likely on account of your rather small ones, particularly for a stallion, but afterwards she paid no mind, and returned to her craft.

Clearly, you were not experienced in such work, but she seemed completely at ease once the work began, pins between her lips as the sewing machine hummed in tune with its mistress; every slight shimmer of her horn floated over another color, or put another behind her in that carefully constructed mess, its intensity never waning as it kept making minor adjustments to her machine, who's tune shifted ever so slightly under her expert command. Not wanting to disturb her flow, however practiced it may be, you remained silent; time passed, and she asked a few questions at times, merely asking which colors you deemed more "you", a question that you tended to reply with the more somber colors she suggested. Soon enough, her table was devoid of any bright fabrics, while the fate of threads remained the same, minus a generic white. Absently, from time to time, a few more queries would make their way to your ears, such as "Chapeaus are terribly last season, I hope you are not too much of a fan?"; each time you replied 'correctly', each one earning a soft smile from the seamstress. Having apparently asked everything she wanted of you, at least for the foreseeable future, you were asked to wait outside for a few minutes, since the surprise was evidently what she desired, and so far she had not fully shown your eyes what the result would be, despite how long you had stood beside her; obliging, you trudged over in the same cautious fashion towards the door, waiting outside, patiently for what seemed like more than enough time for one garb, until she finally called you back.

What greeted you on the mannequin was... odd, in your experience; not only because it was stallion-wear modeled on a mare's mannequin, but it was because, rather than being filled with absurd amounts of jewels or in possession of so many attached feathers and long fabrics that it looked far too complicated to be clothing, her creation was much more simple, and far less deceptive. While it held the form of a normal suit, while being absent of a tie, it appeared to be a sort of canvas; the main fabric was dark blue, almost black, which encompassed the majority of the cloth, while small streaks of fading white, almost as if mist itself had crept into the room in your absence, and had put itself onto the cloth. Beneath the obscuring haze, on the side of the suit, small, shimmering gems made their home, lightly shining in some form of pattern; after a few seconds of concentration, you could vaguely see a quill, pointed tip against the page of what appeared to be a book, although it appeared as a constellation does, with the observer being forced to connect the dots to perceive anything but a random assortment. While your look may have said everything, with a light cough you were drawn back to reality, to be asked one rather simple, important question.

"Well, what do you think?" Her voice was expectant, although controlled, in a manner that showed only her desire for an honest response. As much as you, normally, despised clothing for such purpose, she had made hers seem more like a work of art; it was almost intimate, personal, and echoed those earlier feelings of organization within the haze of chaos... with a few steps, a little less cautious, and much more enraptured with how she managed it, you replied, in the most brutally honest manner you could. "It's... really pretty. I kinda thought you'd, well... make something so fancy it'd be sick, like everypony else does. But this is just so... I dunno, me, kind of..." Rarity's look, instantly shedding any doubt from its emotions, beamed for a moment, before her more refined aspect toned it down, showing, unlike you had thought, a still interested, but much more mild sense of satisfaction.

"Why, thank you; now, shall we see how it looks?" While she spoke there was a sense of confidence in her voice, but it didn't extent to cockiness or an inflated ego; it was simple knowing that she had pleased you, aesthetically. You walked over, allowing her to drape the suit over you, before her magic attached the buttons; it was snug, but not quite so to be uncomfortable, and while it was an unusual feeling, it was strangely welcome, almost warming in a way. The fabric itself wasn't displeasing, although it wasn't as good as the feel of air against your fur; a tolerable change, and not bad, just not perfect. "Thanks, Rarity..." Her name was awkward as it rolled off your tongue, having been repeated with so much hatred and judgement; perhaps she was truly an exception to the rule, or at least, a tolerable pony. She smiled, just as an idea surfaced in the depths of your mind; it was a gift, and if you looked good enough in it, perhaps it was worth hiding from Twilight, in the miraculous circumstances where it could be useful, even it if almost pained you to ask, let alone reflect on it, and your hesitant voice betrayed that to the mare before. "Um... could we maybe keep this a secret from Twilight? I-I'd like to surprise her with it... some other time."

As soon as you finished uttering that sentence your cheeks seemed to grow hotter, while Rarity's eyes sparkled with a slight gasp, only briefly covered by her hoof. "Oh, I knew that there was something between you two!" Was her quick reply, much to your worry, as your heart began to accelerate rapidly, each beat bringing you shorter breath; it was hard to think, let alone breathe, but while you shivered and Rarity seemed poised to strike with deadly questions, you sputtered the only reply you could muster. "I really like her... but I haven't really asked her anything yet. I'm gonna soon, and if you tell her you'll ruin it." You took a deep breath, while Rarity's interest didn't waiver in the slightest, although she seemed almost more involved than you as her eyes shifted slightly with every moment, although they were always centered on you, before her relieving answer graced your ears. "Oh, say not another word! We shall not speak of it further, oh, the secretive romance... do tell me how it goes, please?" With a loud sigh of relief, you started to calm down, thanking her profusely and agreeing to gossip after the fact, before she began to nearly beg for the juicy details of your plans; refusing, as politely as you could muster while she began to remove the garment from you, despite making her somewhat pouty, was a success.

While you remained at the boutique for the rest of the day, with Rarity asking your honest opinion on several of her designs, which had a similar sort of artist's vision in them; you replied that they were good, or variants of the words, much to her delight. Eventually, sometime after Rarity had served a light brunch, the sun began to dip; while you would actually have enjoyed, much to your surprise, staying longer, since Rarity's company was better than what you had expected, and even managed to garner a positive reaction from you, she, on the other hoof, was rather eager to send you home. Although the action was far from one of malice, as she could, somehow, see that you longed to put your plan into action; she prepared herself for an outing, a much longer preparation than Twilight had, since she claimed to have errands to perform afterwards. After a lengthy wait, which seemed more for her aesthetics than anything else, you departed towards Ponyville's library; there would be no confusion, as Rarity informed you that she had agreed to take you back, since Twilight was unsure if you could find your way back.

The chat along the way was scarce, although you were consistently asked if her mane was done right, or any of her multitude of accessories come loose; it was a tad annoying, but for her silence, it was worth putting up with. As you both came upon the library, you thanked her once more, exchanging soft smiles, before she wished you the best of luck; of all things, luck was the least of your concerns, but it was appreciated, a thought you made sure to verbalize. Once inside, Twilight came up to you after a few moments, eager to analyze and interpret whatever advances, or regressions, you had made; she had more work to do, in other areas, however, and even if she was reluctant, she suggested that you would do so tomorrow. With a smile, mostly one of nervousness, you agreed, before you retreated to your room, under the guise of being tired; which, granted, you were, but it was not as pressing as you made it seem. With the door closed, and Twilight's wish for a good night in your mind, however futile that wish was, you went to bed; while the sun was just setting, finally eclipsing itself in full from your view. With eyes shut, a soft sigh, and knowing what you had to do later, you tried to rest, while mentally sheltering yourself from such nightmares...

This time, there were no illusions, no sort of grand shock or unfortunate tale to spin awry in a cruel gesture of pure malice; the darkness was all you could see, although with every step forward it seemed to grow further, while your hooves resounded against the solid floor. It was eerie, but the lack of sudden changes throwing you off your mental balance was helpful in regaining control; somepony was mucking about in your mind, but it ended tonight. You had lost too much sleep to this realm, now turned personal Tartarus, and your sanity within it had wavered; the being controlling it was here, you could feel it, else the darkness would clear. After all, it had made itself known when it caused it in every previous dream, so it had to be here; taking a deep breath, you prepared yourself before crying out, determined to end this tonight. "Come out and face me, you coward! I'm done being pushed around by you, these are MY dreams!" Your voice echoed, bouncing off the blackened boundaries, into a starless void; you waited, with no indication of time, hoping for an answer...

"Very well then." The voice struck you with power, your legs quivering slightly as mist began to form, drifting inward just in front of you; it began to pile upon itself, dripping pieces of itself to the darkness below before it fully formed, solidifying into a form that you had heard of, but never managed to meet, for obvious reasons, and it was a meeting that you dreaded. The conclusion, in all its manner and aspects, was inevitable; finally, the pony who had been plaguing your dreams was before you, gazing down upon you in all her superiority. While your previous thoughts may have been erroneous, at least with Rarity, these ones were not; you gazed back at her, showing as little fear as you could, and she merely gazed back, neither of you speaking, while you thought of how to remove her from your sanctuary, and she thought of how to purge you from her realm, once and for all.