Warning: This article is marked as mature. "Mature" means "blood and gore" might happen in this article. Thank you.
Simply Rarity (Full version)
By Somber
What does generosity mean to a Unicorn with
everything and nothing?
“Surprise!” Pinkie Pie yelled as she popped up
in front of Rarity waving her hooves as more and
more ponies filed into Sugarcube Corner. A massive
banner that said ‘Happy Birthday Twilight
Sparkle!!!!” draped across the far wall proclaimed
the event, and the balloons were a dead giveaway.
“It’s only a surprise to any pony lacking a
calendar, literacy, or sight, Pinkie Pie,” Rarity
said properly as she levitated the bright purple
wrapped bundle to the stack of packages.
“Oh, yeah.” Pinkie Pie rubbed her bright,
curly mane before she grinned, “But surprises are
funner!” Her grin was positively infectious, and
Rarity simply sighed and gave in, smiling at her
friend.
“Yes, Pinkie Pie. Surprises are more fun.”
Rarity didn’t have the heart to correct or argue as
she walked calmly over to the mare of honor and her
friends, leaving Pinkie Pie to ambush another pony
with her glee. “Twilight Sparkle. So sorry I’m
late but I had to finish a dozen silk ball gowns
for delivery this afternoon. Such a chore.”
“Oh it’s all right. I know how hard you work
to meet your deadlines,” Twilight Sparkle said
brightly.
“Business has certainly been brisk. I don’t
know when I’ve ever enjoyed such a streak,” Rarity
said as she brushed her hoof off on her sleeve and
casually examined her pony pedicure.
Applejack glanced over and gave an annoyed
little grunt, “With all that business you must be
rolling in the bits. You’re the only dress maker
in Ponyville and you’re making all those fancy duds
for rich folk in Canterlot and Manehattan.”
“I… a lady does not discuss her finances,
Applejack,” Rarity said crossly.
“Yeah, but every pony knows how I sweat for my
bits. So tell me, Rarity, how much do you bring
in? A hundred bits? Two hundred? Three?”
Applejack watched the Unicorn flush and stammer,
taking a little bit of satisfaction in Rarity’s
discombobulation. “Shoot, you might be the richest
pony in Ponyville.”
Rarity flushed brightly. “I… I am not,
Applejack!” But there were other ponies looking
her way and the white Unicorn gave a harumph, nose
in the air. “This discussion is over.”
Applejack almost got another dig in when
Fluttershy entered and Pinkie Pie started to bounce
around the bakery. “Everyone’s here! Everyone’s
here! Presents, pastries, and party games, oh my!”
The pink pony grabbed Twilight Sparkle and pushed
her towards the stack of presents on the table.
“Open them. Open open open! Mine first!”
Twilight Sparkle smiled as she tore open one
package after the other. A joke book of 101
magical pranks from Pinkie Pie. A box of candy
apples from Applejack. A picture of Rainbow Dash
signed, ‘From Equestria’s best and most awesome
flyer.’ “What?!” the pegasus retorted, hooves
spread at the flat look given by her friends. A
golden quill pot from the Princess. A small vial
of perfume from Fluttershy. Something that might
have been a Twilight Sparkle doll from the Cutie
Mark Crusaders with the note ‘No toymaker cutie
marks.’ Spike gave her one of his baby fangs which
had fallen out a few weeks ago. And from Rarity…
“A book!” Twilight Sparkle said in glee, then
frowned as she opened it up and flipped through the
pages. “An empty book?”
“It’s a journal,” Rarity said brightly,
flushing as she looked at her friend’s incredulous
looks. “You can write your thoughts down and….
Stuff.”
“Pretty chintzy gift,” Rainbow Dash said
softly. She got a few glares, but more than a few
ponies looking curiously at Rarity. “Well it is!
I mean she could have gotten Twilight Sparkle a
real gift instead of a two bit journal.”
“Yeah. What? A dozen dresses doesn’t clear
enough to get her something nice?” Applejack
taunted. But her smiled disappeared as she saw
Rarity wasn’t angry by her nettling. She was
crying! Applejack’s grin quickly melted into
concern, “Hey now… I…”
Rarity looked around at all the ponies staring
at her before she pressed her lips together. “I’m
very sorry,” she said formally to Twilight Sparkle.
“I’ll try to get you something… better.” And with
that she turned on hoof and walked slowly for the
exit. Head high, neck firm, ignore tears and no
pony would dare bring them up. Just like Madam
taught her. “If you’ll excuse me, dresses don’t
make themselves.”
“Rarity? Rarity!” Twilight Sparkle called
after her but she disappeared.
“What is wrong with her?” Rainbow Dash asked as
she fluttered in place. “Jeeze, I got to wonder
how she’s supposed to be the generous one?”
“That’s not fair, Dash. Rarity donated a lot
of her time and energy to us,” Fluttershy said
softly as she approached, “Remember all that work
she did for our dresses for the Gala?”
“Yeah, which we paid her for. Remember us
constantly telling her to keep it inside our
budget?” Rainbow Dash asked with frown.
“Actually I remember a lot of singing about
that,” Pinkie Pie said.
“I’m just saying that even if she’s generous
with her style and talent and stuff, that pony is
seriously cheap when it comes to the cash. You
can’t tell me that she doesn’t make enough with a
dress of sapphires to pay all her bills and splurge
on her friends occasionally!”
“At least she earns her money,” Applejack
countered. “When are you gonna pay your apple tab,
Rainbow Dash?”
“Eh, when I make it big with the Wonderbolts,
natch.” Rainbow Dash replied, folding her hooves
behind her head. Applejack just gave a little
grunt and shake of her head.
Twilight Sparkle looked out the window and just
frowned in concern.
“That’s very good, Diamond Tiara. You must
keep your head high, but stable. That’s it, Silver
Spoon. Lift those hooves with each step,” Rarity
said as she watched the young fillies walking in
careful circles with books balanced on their heads
through her cleared off workspace. The pair
screwed up their faces with concentration.
“What do we have to do this for? It’s sooooo
stupid!” Silver Spoon whined as she carefully
stepped over rolls of cloth, tripping up enough for
the book to tumble off her head. “Urrrgh!”
“Now now. Your parents want you to look like
proper ladies. That requires focus and
discipline,” Rarity replied primly. She lifted
the book with her magic to set atop her head and
casually strolled over each roll. The book didn’t
quiver in the slightest as Rarity turned and gave a
slow and graceful dance over the rolls of silk.
For a moment she could almost hear the music.
The door opened and admitted Twilight Sparkle.
Rarity’s hoof caught on a roll, and for a horrible
second she was about to fall. Then she recovered
with a tight twist, the book still balanced
perfectly atop her purple curls. Even Diamond
Tiara and Silver Spoon looked impressed as she
bowed her head without it shifting. “And THAT,
ladies, is why you have to practice doing this. It
is the first step towards grace.”
After that she escorted the two fillies from
Carousel Boutique and returned to Twilight Sparkle,
she let out her breath and sighed in relief, “Thank
you for saving me from that pair. Another comment
about how something was ‘stupid’ and I’d have
punted them.”
“You’re welcome, but why are you tutoring them
in the first place? Doesn’t Sweetie Belle… well…
hate them?”
“She’s with her friends tonight at
Fluttershy’s. I’m tutoring the pair as best as I’m
able on dignity and proper gracefulness as high
society requires,” Rarity said with a sigh,
“Personally I’d rather teach a diamond dog
etiquette.”
“Well why are you doing it then ?” Twilight
Sparkle asked softly.
Rarity’s eyes darted about a moment as she
fished for an excuse. “Well, it’s not precisely a
trouble. And there is some compensation from their
parents.”
“You’re tutoring them for money?” Twilight
Sparkle asked incredulously. Rarity’s curls seemed
to tighten before her eyes.
“Yes! Fine. I admit it. I’m passing on the
skills I’ve learned for money. Twenty bits a
night. Filthy lucre. There, happy?” She asked
sharply as she stomped around the work shop and
started to levitate the rolls of fabric back onto
the shelves. “I’m sorry that my gift was so
‘chintzy’. I’ll get you something appropriate
later.”
“Rarity! The gift is fine,” Twilight Sparkle
said as she magically gripped a roll of purple
cloth and interrupted Rarity’s furious cleaning.
Twilight walked around to look her in the eye and
saw the pain and worry within. “I don’t mind a
journal. ” Rarity let go of the fabric with her
magic, and Twilight Sparkle set it aside. Their
eyes met, and Twilight Sparkle gave a gentle smile,
“But clearly, something about this bothers you.
Tell me.”
Rarity backed away, her hooves tapping
nervously beneath her. “Twilight Sparkle… It’s not
something I can talk about.”
“You’re not… broke, are you?” Twilight Sparkle
asked as she looked around the store at all the
fantastic fabrics.
“No!” It wasn’t the volume of her rejection
that made Twilight Sparkle retreat. In Rarity’s
eyes were a fear. A pain. Something that Twilight
Sparkle had never seen before in the confident
Rarity. For a moment Twilight Sparkle thought that
the elegant white pony was going to do… something.
Scream. Cry. But before her eyes Rarity
recovered. It was as if all she saw was brushed
behind a veil and Rarity was once more simply
Rarity. “No, Twilight Sparkle. I will never be
like that again.”
“Again?” Rarity closed her eyes and Twilight
Sparkle knew the unicorn was kicking herself.
“Please Rarity. You can talk with me about
anything. We’re friends... You know that, right?”
“Friends,” Rarity said solemnly for a moment.
Rarity looked at her friend and then turned away,
“It’s nothing. No matter at all!” She said firmly
as she walked to the window to look out at the
setting sun, her eyes distant. “It’s in the past.
It should stay there.”
“But it’s hurting you now, Rarity.”
Rarity didn’t answer that as she gazed out the
window. “I can almost hear the music some nights.
Badum ba-da-dum-dum…” She sang softly. “I can
still see the ponies all in their fine dresses and
coats dancing in neat rows. Elegant waltzes.
Saucy tangos. Schottisches. Branles. Pavanes and
Minuets. Elaborate dishes with an entire meal
distilled to a single bite of exquisite flavor.
And the gossip, oh the gossip! Unending and all so
trivial but so tantalizingly vital.” Blue eyes
looked at her friend with a sad smile, “You haven’t
a clue what I’m talking about, do you?”
“Um… no. Not really.” Twilight Sparkle said
softly with a sheepish smile.
“I’m talking about being rich. Fantastically
wealthy. Of having so much that you could never
want for a trifle.” She then looked over to a small
dusty chest and her horn glowed. The lock clicked,
lid lifted, and Rarity lifted a dingy, battered
book with her horn. It hovered in front of her as
it turned over in the air. “I don’t know why I
held on to this. There’s nothing in here that I
want to remember,” she said as she ran her hoof
over the water stained cover. Gold fleck still
clung to the corners, and there was a hint of lace
still clutched to the edge. “I suppose that it’s a
part of me, no matter how much I dislike it.
Here.” She levitated the book to Twilight Sparkle.
“It should answer your questions.”
Dear Journal,
I refuse to refer to this as a diary. Sunsparkle
seemed to think this was an adequate gift for my
birthday. From the teasing my guests gave her
about purchasing me a ‘diary’ it’s clear that a
diary is something for common ponies. It was an
adequate party with adequate cake and adequate
presents and adequate music. Madam LeFleur told me
that adequate is a word that fancy ponies use all
the time. This has been an adequate entry in an
adequate journal.
Personally, I don’t think there’s much point to
writing in this. Madam LeFleur will probably just
make me walk with it on my head. Sooooo stupid.
Your owner Rarity.
The spectacular Rarity.
The one and only Rarity.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
We took a day trip down to the marketplace today,
just mother and father and me. Apparently I am
going to be having a little sister. This simply
will not do and I informed mother and father of
this immediately. I do not want a sister. If I’m
Rarity then if I have a sister I’ll be half as
rare! Father and Mother seemed angry, but they
didn’t argue for a change. It seems as if they are
trying to be very happy right now. I don’t see
why. I am quite unhappy with the whole
arrangement!
Something simply must be done!
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Ooh I could just kick the cook, if it weren’t so
unlady like. My friends came over and she tried to
serve us sugared grass instead of alfalfa. Can you
imagine? She gave some lame excuse of not having
any. Why doesn’t she just go out and buy some
more? It was a complete scandal and I know that
Silvercrest and Opalescence will be reminding me of
this faux pas forever!
In spite of that, we did have a delightful time
playing Princesses and Prince. Silvercrest is
still insisting that when we are grown, she’ll be
the one to marry Prince Blueblood. The nerve!
Every pony knows that I’m destined to marry him.
We also gave advice to Sunsparkle about how to
handle boys. The silly dear needs to learn to
flutter her lashes more.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Madam LeFleur had an argument with mother today
about not being paid. I thought it rather silly.
Mother is about to be another mother and is quite
cross about most things. She even yelled at me for
making too much noise practicing my dancing.
Mother will simply pay Madam LeFleur later. I’ve
been putting a lot of practice into Madam LeFleur’s
dancing and etiquette lessons. I’ve even been
practicing my enunciation, which means speaking
like a proper filly and not like some apple farming
bumkin. According to Madam LeFleur, only the
poorest and most slovenly ponies actually farm.
Can you imagine getting dirty? I’d rather die.
I do hope mother and father stop arguing. It’s
quite trying some nights. Perhaps they’ll stop
once my new sister arrives.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
I know it hasn’t been as long as before, but I have
little else to do. My sister is here and her name
is Unique. Can you imagine! They may as well have
told me I’m common garbage. I adamantly insisted
they send her back at once, but mother became very
cross with me. Father became cross with her. She
became cross with him. It all ended with the foal
quite cross!
I hoped I might spend time with Silvercrest or
Opalescence, but suddenly all my friends are quite
busy! I can’t quite put my horn on it, but it’s
like they’re suddenly embarrassed to be my friends!
I can’t even manage three words to them before
they have some excuse. Mother quite angrily said
that we’d find some true friends!
I hope mother and father stop arguing soon. It
makes my head heart to hear them shouting at one
another.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
I have never had a more miserable time in my life!
I was secretly quite thrilled to learn that I
wouldn’t have to put up with Madam LeFleur’s
lessons on enunciation and elocution, but I found
out that the cook and the cleaning ponies have left
the house as well. There was no pony to draw my
bath this morning, can you imagine?
Mother was quite beside herself. I told her that
she should simply get a new cook and servants. For
a moment I thought she was going to yell at me, but
instead she began to weep. This will teach me to
keep my mouth shut my opinions to myself. Mother
and father have been trying to have their friends
over every night, but the few that do visit are
positively rude! They eat the food and then
immediately leave. Father just stands there in the
door, watching them go. I know mother is a
terrible cook but there’s no excuse for crude
manners. He should but his hoof down and tell them
not to be rude. That’s what I’d do.
Silvercrest told me the nastiest lie yesterday
night. She said that father and mother have no
money. That we’re poor and that’s why all the
servant ponies left and no one will be my friend
anymore. I said that she was a horrible liar and a
terrible friend. We can’t be poor. We have a big
house and I have all my dresses. I’m even going to
the Grand Galloping Gala! Poor ponies don’t go to
that. Perhaps I’ll meet a prince.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Everything’s been so quiet. Father and mother
don’t argue any more. They don’t do anything.
Mother spends hours around Unique. Father just
looks at papers for hours and hours on end. Mother
doesn’t have most of her fancy dresses or jewels
any more. I loved her jewels. They were so bright
and cheery. She said she was clearing out space,
so I told her she could take my dresses too. She
just looked at me and started to cry. I don’t see
what the bother is. I never see my friends former
friends anymore and mother seems to need to get rid
of things.
I was wrong about the arguing. I’d rather hear
mother and father yelling than all this quiet.
Thank you for listening to me, Journal.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Something is terribly wrong with father. I was
playing with Unique in the ballroom and Unique was
babbling and being generally agreeable. Then I
spotted father watching us with a look most
peculiar. I don’t know quite how to put it into
words. A statue? No. He was like... a ghost.
He walked in and Unique babbled at him for a bit.
I suggested in passing that Unique was getting big
enough for her first baby dress and asked him if we
might go to market to shop for her. He looked as
if he was in pain! Then he simply retreated to his
study. He spends all his time there with those
papers. Why would any pony write in red?
I will talk with mother about it tomorrow.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Terrible accident. Father fell out the third story
window from his study
Dear Journal,
I’m sorry for crying on that last entry. I’ve been
taking care of Unique while mother gets us ready to
move to a smaller house. I thought I’d be mad, but
taking care of her is better than thinking about
what happened. Windows should stay locked. I
spent time in the upstairs ball room going over the
dances Madam LeFleur taught me, showing them to
Unique. She simply sucks on her hoof, the silly
thing.
Mother refuses to talk about father. When I
asked about the accident she hit me I will simply
not think about it. I won’t be sad to leave this
house. It doesn’t feel like home any more. The
rooms are all empty and echo when you walk past. I
found one of my old cloaks in a cupboard. It still
fits, though I stuck myself with a sewing needle
left in the hem. I bundled it up into my saddle
bag. It may come in useful.
Unique really isn’t all that bad.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
This new house is certainly… cozy. I won’t say
its bad because when I did that mother wept for
nearly an hour. I’m sharing a room with Unique and
she’s fussy, but I told her we simply must make the
best of it. She simply babbled at me, but I think
she understood. I’ve tried to make sure everything
is neat and clean. Madam LeFleur said dirt was the
mark of poor ponies. We might be in a small house
but we’re not that.
Mother is giving etiquette lessons to some of
the fillies and colts in this neighborhood for
money. She doesn’t have very many students. The
ponies in this neighborhood don’t like us much.
They call us ‘snooty ponies’. I am not snooty. I
know snooty. If I introduced them to Silvercrest
they’d never call me snooty again.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
These common ponies are incomprehensible. They
play in the street or empty lots with balls,
sticks, and hoops. I’ve tried to be friendly, yet
these children shy away from me with distrust. I
try to discuss things like fancy dresses, balls,
and dances and they simply look at me as if I’m
babbling. I tried drawing in a filly with talk
about the Grand Galloping Gala, but she was utterly
disinterested! Doesn’t she know a prince attends?
I’ve found that boys are much easier to
confound with a bit of praise. A flutter of the
eyes and a sweet smile and they’ve been generous
enough to provide some assistance: milk for Unique,
a few treats and trinkets, even some cloth that
I’ve tried to turn into shawls for myself and
Unique. Yet for some odd reason, they’re always
angry the next day. I think they’re starting to
avoid me.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
It’s been terrible here. Everything is quiet
again. Mother yelled at two of her students and
now they’ve all quit. Mother cries all the time
now. She tried working in some shop, but I guess
being rich she doesn’t know how to do anything. I
don’t know how to do anything.
I went to my friends and asked them for help.
They were all so terrible. They laughed at my
scuffed up mane and my chipped hooves. Let them
live where I do and see if they keep their manes
nice and clean. Except I want to be clean. I want
to be pretty. I hate it, but I want to be like
them. Silvercrest said she’d pay me five bits to
do something horrible. I suggested what she could
do with her bits. The local ponies have quite the
colorful vocabulary.
Sunsparkle gave me her mother of pearl mane
comb. I told her that her journal was the best
present I ever recieved.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Mother is gone all the time now. She leaves
late and sometimes isn’t back till dawn. She seems
so sad. No. Not sad. Empty. She doesn’t even
want to see Unique. She brings us things to eat;
usually wormy apples or foul lettuces. Unique and
I walk all the way to the park to eat grass, but
it’s tough and makes my tummy ache. Unique needs
milk; the grass makes her sick. The money from the
comb is gone.
I take care of Mother and Unique now. I try to
keep mother comfortable and Unique quiet. I’m
trying to teach her how to walk with a book on her
head, like Madam LeFleur taught me. I think I’ll
tuck a few strands of her mane here. When she’s
bored of that, I’ll dance for her. She can’t
waltz, but I can’t waltz well either. I made a
horn puppet with that needle from my cloak. It
makes her laugh.
I love her laugh.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Mother’s been gone for three days. I’ve asked
about her, but nopony knows where she went. Some
mean colts said she’d left forever because she
doesn’t want us anymore.
She’ll come home soon. We’re out of everything
but grass and a little milk.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
We don’t have a house anymore! Some pony came
while Unique and I were out looking for mother and
threw everything in a pile outside the front door!
Now it’s all locked tight and what little we had is
broken or taken. I’m so glad no one took you,
Journal. I found Unique’s horn puppet, my cloak,
and some milk in a bottle.
We’re staying with Stone Walker, one of the
ponies whose foal took lessons from mother. Unique
and I don’t really have a room, but there’s a niche
in the corner of the basement we’re staying in. I
tried to clean it as best I could. I think that
Stone Walker didn’t understand why I simply had to
clean up her basement. I’d clean up the rest of
the house if she liked, but she has so many
children that they would just mess everything up.
Unique said ‘Warity’. I’ve never cried so much
in my life. I was quite touched.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Stone Walker threw us out of her home. I told
her how her husband kept brushing against my flank.
She called me a horrible liar and said I was just
like mother. I cried and beat my hooves on the
door but she never opened it. I don’t think any
pony here will take us in. I don’t know what to
do.
I went to my friends again. I’ll do all the
horrible things Silvercrest wants. I couldn’t get
in though. The servants all pretended not to know
me, even though I called them by name. Even
Sundancer’s family wouldn’t help, but their cook
did give me three bottles of milk for Unique and
some honey muffins for me. Then I was told to
never come back. I don’t think I could bear to.
I hope I can find some ink.
Just Rarity.
Dear Journal,
We’re staying at a place called a shelter.
It’s not more than a big empty room with dirty hay
on the floor, but it’s warm and dry. There’s so
many ponies here just like us. Old, young,
Unicorn, Pegasus, Earth, but we’re all dirty.
Sometimes there’s clean water for a bath. The
ponies that keep the shelter are so very kind. But
I can tell they want to take Unique away. They say
they can find us a new home with good parents, but
they could find a home for Unique faster alone. I
can’t lose Unique.
I try and fix whatever I can with my needle.
There are so many clothes with rips and tears that
every pony needs something sewn. I try and make it
look pretty. Everything might be dirty, but it
doesn’t have to be ugly too. It makes them smile
when they see something pretty added to it.
Just Rarity.
Dear Journal,
We left the shelter. Some ponies said I had to
give up Unique. She’s too young to be with me, and
I’m too young to care for her. I’ll care for her!
I’ll do everything I can for her. I had to kick
and bite when they tried to separate us. I don’t
think they expected me to put up a fight, but I
did.
I don’t know what we’ll do, but I won’t let
anything happen to Unique.
Just Rarity.
Dear Journal,
The little bottle of ink from the shelter is
almost empty. I added water to what remains for
this entry. Unique and I were attacked, and not by
some stranger. They were boys from the
neighborhood we used to live in! They knew us!
They tried to take Unique’s cloak not because they
needed it, but because they could!
Never have I been so outraged! I kicked, bit,
shoved, and called them the most polysyllabic
insults I could think of at the time. They fled, I
think, more afraid that I fought at all than any
damage I actually caused. Unique was quite
impressed.
Just Rarity.
Dear journal,
Sorry to use charcoal, but it’s free. Unique
and I walk around all the time. It’s all there is
to do. If we’re not walking, soon the horrible
feelings inside build up and I want to cry. I
can’t cry. I can’t. If I cry then Unique will too
and she’s trying so very hard not to cry. We’re
both so filthy. We can’t keep clean. We try,
Journal. We try so hard!
I have to find some milk for Unique. She still
can’t handle grass.
Rarity.
Dear diary,
We can’t stay here any longer. We simply
can’t. It’s not about money any more. It’s us.
Unique found three bits in the gutter. Filthy.
Dirty. But it was money. I went straight to a
milk vendor to purchase three bottles. He told us
to leave. We weren’t begging. We showed him the
money! Still he refused and insisted we go. He
was embarrassed to sell to two filthy young ponies!
We went to three others before we found a vendor
willing to sell two bottles to us.
But it’s more than that. I fear that we’re
becoming invisible. Ponies simply don’t look at us
any more. They see, but their eyes are fixed.
They talk louder when they pass, as if afraid we
might ask them for help. Those ponies who do see
are even worse. They glare as if sure we’ll take
something! And worst of all… ponies who think
we’re funny. Like we chose to be like this. Like
we want to be like this.
Rarity.
Dear diary,
We’re not in town anymore. No pony likes us
there anyway. We’re outside town where there’s far
more grass than in the park, even if it’s all
yellow. We stopped by a farm and the cows were
very nice. They gave Unique all the milk she could
drink.
I wonder what happened to mother. Did she have
an accident, like father? I sometimes tell Unique
that mother was wisked away by an evil witch and
that someday she’ll come back. It doesn’t feel
like a lie. I want it to be true so much, and it
makes Unique happy. I tell her we’re going to look
for mother and it makes her smile.
I want to stay at the farm, but I know the look
the farmers gave us. It’s the same look.
Still, Unique and I are full and the fallen
leaves are far more comfortable than I’d ever
imagined. Even the moon and stars are so much
lovelier than in town.
Rarity.
Dear Diary,
For the first time in months I feel clean.
It’s the warmest day we’ve felt thus far, and
Unique and I found a stream in which to bathe. I
know we’re still a sight. I look at mud and my
stomach simply clenches. I think I might have an
allergy to dirt. Can you imagine anything so
silly?
I miss mother and father so much.
Rarity.
Dear diary,
I’ve been told this road leads to another town.
I told Unique that mother’s probably there waiting
for her. She doesn’t like walking. I keep
reminding myself she’s a new sister. I carry her
as best I can. I took apart the horn puppet to
patch up my cloak and stuff it with leaves. I even
sewed on some particularly pretty acorns. Unique
was so happy. She called herself a princess.
She should be a Princess.
I read about how I felt about her before.
She’s a Princess. She’s sweet and kind and
wonderful and I’m not.
Rarity.
Dear Diary,
It’s snowing again. It never snowed like this
before. It’s so beautiful and Unique is entranced.
We danced together as it fell upon us, like a ball
for only the two of us. She’s Princess Unique.
I’m Princess Rarity. Our hooves leave tracks
across the still woods. She’s so very happy. It’s
getting cold though as we only have one cloak. We
both try to fit under it as we make our way through
the snow.
I hope we find someplace warm soon. Unique is
cold from our dancing.
Rarity.
der dary
unique
Dear Diary,
I was found in the woods and taken to a farm.
I wish they hadn’t. I wish they’d left me with
her. They keep trying to feed me apples and clean
me up but it doesn’t matter. One of the girls here
keeps trying to be nice. I don’t deserve her being
nice to me. I call her stupid hateful things, like
I’m Silvercrest. Her parents know I don’t mean it,
but I think she’s mad with me. Her red brother is
quiet. He leaves me alone. I think he
understands.
I can’t stay here. I don’t deserve to stay
here, but they won’t let me go till spring. I
still have my needle. I’ll sew some things up for
them. I can do that at least. I miss Unique I miss mother and father I hate
being here I hate being alone I hate the pity and
the looks and the crying I hate the kindness that I
don’t deserve I hate myself for being here when
unique isn’t I hate
Dear Diary,
I’m in this new place, Ponyville. It’s much
smaller than where we used to live. Every pony is
nice to me because they know what happened to
Unique. They try and give me things, but I won’t
take them. I told them my name is Silvercrest. My
mane is filthy and tangled and dirty. I hate it.
It’s what I deserve. I don’t think I can stay
here. I don’t think I can stay anywhere.
Rarity
Silvercrest.
Dear Diary,
I have a job. There’s a seamstress here who
makes a living mending clothes. A widow named
Thimble. She’s heard I’m good with a needle and so
I’m helping her. She has a room. I told her that
I’d pay to stay there. I won’t let her just let me
stay. I won’t. So I sew up simple things and she
lets me stay.
I keep thinking about what happened. Everything
that’s happened. I think about throwing this
journal away. Even burning it. But I can’t. But
I also can’t stop thinking about it!
I told her a little about me. She said that it
was silly to give up my name. That I was a Rarity.
That no pony my age had been through what I had
and kept going. It made me feel better. She’s
going to let me practice with her sewing machine.
Rarity.
Dear Diary,
I met Silvercrest and Sunsparkle today.
Silvercrest’s family were passing through on
their way to the Grand Galloping Gala when
Silvercrest ripped the hideous pink thing she
called a ball room dress. She resembled a fat pig
with green ribbons. Pink and lime green? How did
she ever think that would look good? I felt so bad
for Sunsparkle, stuck with Silvercrest as she
whined about how unfair it was her dress had
ripped.
A dress. A ripped dress was unfair. I had to
focus or I feared I would scream and throttle her!
Sunsparkle’s own garb was decent enough. It
was so hard for me to mention that with just a few
less ribbons it could be so much more. Silvercrest
was, of course, rude while Thimble sewed up the
tear. How could I know proper pony fashion? A few
ribbons less though made such a difference. A
braid in her mane that pulled her hair out of her
eyes and emphasized her throat helped wonderfully.
When they were leaving, I thanked her for her
comb. She had no idea what I was talking about.
Still, I hope she has a good time at the Gala.
Maybe she’ll meet a prince.
Rarity.
Dear Diary,
Thimble asked to adopt me. I’m not sure how to
feel. I know she cares for me. She pities me. I
think she might even love me a little. Yet when I
think of family, a gulf opens wide inside me. I
remember mother and father yelling. I remember
father’s suicide accident. Snow. It hurts. And
I’m afraid that if I accept then somehow I’ll make
the bad things that happened to me happen to her.
It’s silly, but I am so afraid.
Rarity.
Dear Diary,
Thimble is going to have a baby. I’m going to
have to take over most of the chores running the
shop. There’s so much to remember! Still, I’ve
figured out the sewing machine.
Misses Muffin wants a wedding dress made.
She’s marrying Mr. Cake in their very bakery. It
was supposed to be just a simple affair. White
with white. It took so long for me to mention, in
passing, that perhaps she might like a new dress.
Something… better. I never expected her to agree!
Now I have to design an entire dress!
Yet, despite everything I have to admit I’m
excited! I’ve never done anything like it before.
Even Thimble’s never designed an entire dress, but
when I close my eyes I can almost see it. And it’s
strange but when I focus on doing this… I don’t
think about… other things.
Oh what have I gotten myself into?
Miss Rarity.
Dear Diary,
The dress was an utter disaster. The hem was
uneven and the embroidery was simply awful. I
nearly tore the whole thing to pieces. Somehow
Miss Muffin adored the ghastly thing! It was so
hard, but I had to concentrate! I had to focus on
every little detail. That’s how I know it was
terrible.
She paid me twenty bits for it.
I’ve never actually earned money before. Money.
It should have been important to me but when it
jingled in my hoof it seems… stupid. I know that’s
silly. Money’s the most important things in the
world. If we’d had money father wouldn’t have
killed many troubles could have been avoided. I
tried to give it to Thimble, but she said I’d all
ready paid my rent and it’d been all my work. I’d
earned that money.
Mother and Father would have spent it. I would
have spent it. Money was for spending, yet… I’ll
save it. Perhaps something important will come up.
Tailor Rarity.
Dear Diary,
Thimble had her baby! She’s… everything.
Everything precious and delicate and sweet. I said
she should be named Sweetie Belle. She looks just
like her mother with her pink mane, but Thimble
says she looks like me. I couldn’t say who she
really looks like. I cried so much once I was back
in my room. It hurt so much. But I’m still going
to make her a horn puppet. I focus on every
stitch, so I don’t think about the old memories.
It hurts to be a big sister again, but that’s
what I’ll be for her.
I have to.
Sister Rarity.
Dear Diary,
I’ve used up so many of your pages that I’m
nearly out. I never thought I’d ever fill this to
the very end. It makes me sad; isn’t that silly?
Thimble is making me go to school. It seems
silly given that I’ve all ready been tutored
adequately in enunciation and elocution. No, it’s
not silly. It’s scary. I’ve been on my own for so
long that the idea of being around other ponies
scares me. I don’t want to make friends like
Silvercrest again, and I know there are ponies like
her. Maybe not as rich, but every bit as mean.
Still, if I must, I’ll wash as well as I can.
I want to look clean and neat. I bought a roll of
fabric from Thimble and made myself a dress. It’s
simple enough. I try to brush up on everything
that Madam LeFleur taught me.
Who knows, it may be okay.
Nervous Rarity.
Dear Diary,
I! HATE!! APPLEJACK!!!
I was at school and it was… well… not so bad.
Not so bad, that is, till an Earth Pony named
Applejack asked me if I wanted to ‘play’.
Applejack doesn’t play. She mucks around in mud
puddles, kicks apples to splatter other ponies with
sticky pulp, and wrestles. My dress is RUINED
FOREVER! I called her a barbaric filthophile. She
laughed and said I talked funny. Funny!
I think... I think she might be her. That one
pony I met over the winter. She doesn’t seem to
recognize me, though.
Well. Dress aside… it wasn’t all bad. Perhaps
I’ll make friends with Applejack in time and teach
her how to be a proper lady. Never mind. Some
ponies are incapable of cleanliness.
Clean Rarity.
Dear Diary,
Boys are terribly silly ponies, aren’t they?
Apparently I’m quite a popular topic for them as
they do whatever boys do. I remember everything
that Madam LeFleur told me and they find simple
manners and grace quite fetching. Yet, I’m far
more careful this time. I remember what happened
before, and keep them at a hoof distance.
Politely. Like a lady.
It’s been so long, I’m surprised that I
remember how.
Lady Rarity.
Dear Diary,
The school is holding a play about the seasons.
I don’t really want to participate. I’m not an
actress. However, I have to admit their costumes
are… well… lacking. All right, they’re terrible.
But they don’t have to be. Perhaps I can help sew
something new. It has to be more than good though.
I want it to be spectacular!
Fidgeting Rarity
Dear Diary,
I GOT MY CUTIEMARK TODAY! What happened was
Dear Diary,
I can’t believe I was so excited I spilled ink
all over the page. I’ll write the details later.
I saw a homeless pony. He was older than me,
but not full grown. Ponyville doesn’t have a lot of
homeless ponies, they’re mostly just passing
through on their way to somewhere else. He had…
well… that look. That empty eyed look that made
him painful to look at. Was I ever as dirty as
that? Did I ever smell like that? I did. I know
I did.
I made him a blanket and used some of my money
to buy him something to eat and an old brush. He
looked at me like I was a ghost or something. He
started to cry. I know it’s hard for boys to cry,
so I left him alone after that. I hope he finds
somewhere to belong.
I am so lucky. Thimble has given me… no, not
given. I have to remember that. What she gave me
was an opportunity. Just like I gave that pony an
opportunity. I hope he makes it.
Happily Rarity.
Dear Diary,
Thimble is remarrying. I feel quite
overwhelmed. The loss of her husband and… my loss…
helped us stay together. Now she’s moving on with
her life. I should be happy for her. I should.
I’m not. I feel... terrified.
Only Thimble knows what I’ve been through and
she says I’m strong, but I don’t feel strong. I’m
afraid that without her I’ll fall apart again. She
simply tells me to make some friends and to simply
continue doing what I’ve been doing: living. It
sounds so simple, so why am I so afraid?
Cowardly Rarity,
Dear Diary,
I’m alone again. Thimble and Sweetie Belle
have left and I’m left in this great building.
Thimble wants to sell it to me, but right now I
can’t think of sewing. I can’t think of anything.
No, that’s not true. I keep thinking of
Unique. I keep thinking of father lying in the
courtyard. I keep thinking of the last day I saw
mother leave that filthy little house.
I don’t want to be alone. I’m sorry. I’ll
write when I’m less troubled.
Rarity
Dear Diary,
Sweetie Belle has returned. Thimble has said
that she found Canterlot a fine city, but
overwhelming for the young pony. Apparently
Sweetie Belle was quite inconsolable. The simple
solution is for her to stay with me until she’s
older and decides where she wants to live.
I didn’t know what else I could say besides
yes. Yet as I think about it, I think it the right
decision. I can’t let what happened to Unique
happen to Sweetie Belle. I have to focus and force
these maudlin ideas from my head. And oddly
enough, I can. In caring for Sweetie Belle I can
care for myself as well.
Is that courage?
Ambivalent Rarity.
Dear Diary,
Thimble is getting married and moving to
Canterlot. I was happy, but I admit to being
nervous. She’s helped so much, and even now she’s
still helping. She sold me her tailoring shop.
From now on this business is mine, for the price of
designing her wedding dress and two dresses for
Sweetie Belle and myself. I know it’s a token, but
it’s still a part of her promise.
Looking at the shop, I just have pictures of
how it could be. I’ll move the workshop upstairs
and turn the ground floor into a boutique! I’ll
design clothes for every pony for a hundred miles.
My talent for fashion has also been assisted by a
knack for locating gemstones. Certainly extraction
is a problem, but I’ll figure something out!
And I’ve also decided something else. I’ve
decided what to do with my money from the shop.
Some of it will go to paying the bills and buying
materials, certainly. Some of it I will save for
Sweetie Belle. One day she will know what she
wants to do with her life, and when she does I will
do all I can to help her as Thimble helped me.
But the rest I’m going to give away. There are
so many ponies across Equestria who are poor and
hurting. I could horde the bits and perhaps
someday even have the lifestyle mother and father
enjoyed, but I don’t want it. I’ll use my excess
to buy winter cloaks, food, milk, and help fund
shelters across Equestria. I don’t want to be rich
again. I’ve been rich. If I can help other ponies
from poverty, I will.
Sincerely Rarity.
Dearest Diary,
This is your final page. I never imagined in
my wildest dreams that my greatest friend would
ever be a book of my own writing. I know how vain
that sounds, but it’s true. At the very worst
times, and the very best, you’ve been with me.
You’re proof of all that I’ve gone through.
I don’t imagine I’ll ever share you with
another. Not even Sweetie Belle. So if any pony
is reading this, then I can only say that you are
the greatest of my friends. I hope that in reading
this, you understand a little bit about me. If I
seem reluctant to discuss my past, or evade
questions about my relationship to Sweetie Belle,
or act odd about money; you can now understand why.
And so, I can only hope that you will also
understand to never discuss it with me. The
memories are too raw to speak of. I don’t want
praise for my generosity or charity. I don’t
deserve praise. Had I been truly generous I would
have let the shelter take Unique away. What I do
to help others is my repayment for all the help
that’s been given to me. If at times I seem
reluctant to waste money, please understand that
there are many ponies who will never realize how
wealthy they truly are to those who have nothing.
So, mysterious reader, thank you for taking
this time and making the effort to understand a
pony undeserving of your friendship.
Sincerely, surely, simply,
Rarity.
Twilight Sparkle stared down at that final
page. Framing it were two length of silky soft
mane, one a delicate blue violet similar to
Rarity’s, but not, and the other a soft pink and
purple. Twilight Sparkle ran her hoof along both
strands, touching the two sisters in Rarity’s life.
Slowly she closed the book, levitated it, and
brought it to her lips. She kissed it softly and
then set it aside. She’d make sure it returned to
its owner.
In the dark evening light she looked towards
her bag and her horn glowed. The flap lifted and
she drew out the simple blank journal. She opened
it up in front of her, turning to the very first
page. Magic lifted her pen and with the softest of
smiles began to write.
Dear Diary,
Today was my birthday, and I got many wonderful
gifts from my friends. One friend, however, gave
me far more than simple presents. First, she gave
me you. Secondly, she gave me a story that she’s
never shared with another. And third, she gave me
an appreciation for just what generosity truly
means. Thanks to her I appreciate all I have all
the more, and hope that one day I can be as caring
a soul as she.
Sincerely, surely, simply,
Twilight Sparkle.
In the late night Rarity’s sewing machine
softly purred. The blankets were simple, but when
winter came they would be comfortable, durable, and
most importantly warm. Mrs. Cake had collected all
the left over pastries from Pinkie Pie’s party and
sent them in a basket. They’d reach their
destination a bit stale, but still edible. And
while no pony in the shelter would know who
‘parkle’ was on the birthday cake, that wouldn’t
stop them from appreciating it. Maybe they’d think
that ‘parkle’ sent the money along with the
package. Maybe not. All that mattered was that
some pony would be helped.
She hoped it wasn’t a mistake to give out that
book, but she thought she could trust Twilight
Sparkle. On this, at least, she wouldn’t blab her
secrets. Sweetie Belle would be back tomorrow.
She had to be careful. She wanted to give her
sister everything; the whole world if she could,
but Rarity knew what came of that. You couldn’t
give everything you wanted. Not even love, or it
would hurt.
She gazed out the window, singing softly under
her voice, “Badum ba-da-dum-dum…” As she sang she
remembered the dance with her sister in the empty
ball room. Hoof in hoof, whirling gaily, like they
never would again save for that one last time…
Slowly she lifted the lid of the chest and
reached down. The leaves were terribly brittle
stuffed within the faded red winter coat. There
were so many stains and splotches it was hard to
make out the original color. Her hoof softly
nudged a dry acorn still tied to the edge. Gently,
as gently as she’d stroked her sisters’ manes when
they were foals, she ran her hoof over the garment.
Then she closed the lid with a sigh.
Someday she might give it to Sweetie Belle, or,
perish the thought, a child of her own. It was
everything she would ever be. Would ever hope to
be. And so she adjusted her glasses, wiped away
any lingering tears, and continued her work; being
all that she was.
Simply Rarity.Simply Rarity (Full version)
By Somber
What does generosity mean to a Unicorn with
everything and nothing?
“Surprise!” Pinkie Pie yelled as she popped up
in front of Rarity waving her hooves as more and
more ponies filed into Sugarcube Corner. A massive
banner that said ‘Happy Birthday Twilight
Sparkle!!!!” draped across the far wall proclaimed
the event, and the balloons were a dead giveaway.
“It’s only a surprise to any pony lacking a
calendar, literacy, or sight, Pinkie Pie,” Rarity
said properly as she levitated the bright purple
wrapped bundle to the stack of packages.
“Oh, yeah.” Pinkie Pie rubbed her bright,
curly mane before she grinned, “But surprises are
funner!” Her grin was positively infectious, and
Rarity simply sighed and gave in, smiling at her
friend.
“Yes, Pinkie Pie. Surprises are more fun.”
Rarity didn’t have the heart to correct or argue as
she walked calmly over to the mare of honor and her
friends, leaving Pinkie Pie to ambush another pony
with her glee. “Twilight Sparkle. So sorry I’m
late but I had to finish a dozen silk ball gowns
for delivery this afternoon. Such a chore.”
“Oh it’s all right. I know how hard you work
to meet your deadlines,” Twilight Sparkle said
brightly.
“Business has certainly been brisk. I don’t
know when I’ve ever enjoyed such a streak,” Rarity
said as she brushed her hoof off on her sleeve and
casually examined her pony pedicure.
Applejack glanced over and gave an annoyed
little grunt, “With all that business you must be
rolling in the bits. You’re the only dress maker
in Ponyville and you’re making all those fancy duds
for rich folk in Canterlot and Manehattan.”
“I… a lady does not discuss her finances,
Applejack,” Rarity said crossly.
“Yeah, but every pony knows how I sweat for my
bits. So tell me, Rarity, how much do you bring
in? A hundred bits? Two hundred? Three?”
Applejack watched the Unicorn flush and stammer,
taking a little bit of satisfaction in Rarity’s
discombobulation. “Shoot, you might be the richest
pony in Ponyville.”
Rarity flushed brightly. “I… I am not,
Applejack!” But there were other ponies looking
her way and the white Unicorn gave a harumph, nose
in the air. “This discussion is over.”
Applejack almost got another dig in when
Fluttershy entered and Pinkie Pie started to bounce
around the bakery. “Everyone’s here! Everyone’s
here! Presents, pastries, and party games, oh my!”
The pink pony grabbed Twilight Sparkle and pushed
her towards the stack of presents on the table.
“Open them. Open open open! Mine first!”
Twilight Sparkle smiled as she tore open one
package after the other. A joke book of 101
magical pranks from Pinkie Pie. A box of candy
apples from Applejack. A picture of Rainbow Dash
signed, ‘From Equestria’s best and most awesome
flyer.’ “What?!” the pegasus retorted, hooves
spread at the flat look given by her friends. A
golden quill pot from the Princess. A small vial
of perfume from Fluttershy. Something that might
have been a Twilight Sparkle doll from the Cutie
Mark Crusaders with the note ‘No toymaker cutie
marks.’ Spike gave her one of his baby fangs which
had fallen out a few weeks ago. And from Rarity…
“A book!” Twilight Sparkle said in glee, then
frowned as she opened it up and flipped through the
pages. “An empty book?”
“It’s a journal,” Rarity said brightly,
flushing as she looked at her friend’s incredulous
looks. “You can write your thoughts down and….
Stuff.”
“Pretty chintzy gift,” Rainbow Dash said
softly. She got a few glares, but more than a few
ponies looking curiously at Rarity. “Well it is!
I mean she could have gotten Twilight Sparkle a
real gift instead of a two bit journal.”
“Yeah. What? A dozen dresses doesn’t clear
enough to get her something nice?” Applejack
taunted. But her smiled disappeared as she saw
Rarity wasn’t angry by her nettling. She was
crying! Applejack’s grin quickly melted into
concern, “Hey now… I…”
Rarity looked around at all the ponies staring
at her before she pressed her lips together. “I’m
very sorry,” she said formally to Twilight Sparkle.
“I’ll try to get you something… better.” And with
that she turned on hoof and walked slowly for the
exit. Head high, neck firm, ignore tears and no
pony would dare bring them up. Just like Madam
taught her. “If you’ll excuse me, dresses don’t
make themselves.”
“Rarity? Rarity!” Twilight Sparkle called
after her but she disappeared.
“What is wrong with her?” Rainbow Dash asked as
she fluttered in place. “Jeeze, I got to wonder
how she’s supposed to be the generous one?”
“That’s not fair, Dash. Rarity donated a lot
of her time and energy to us,” Fluttershy said
softly as she approached, “Remember all that work
she did for our dresses for the Gala?”
“Yeah, which we paid her for. Remember us
constantly telling her to keep it inside our
budget?” Rainbow Dash asked with frown.
“Actually I remember a lot of singing about
that,” Pinkie Pie said.
“I’m just saying that even if she’s generous
with her style and talent and stuff, that pony is
seriously cheap when it comes to the cash. You
can’t tell me that she doesn’t make enough with a
dress of sapphires to pay all her bills and splurge
on her friends occasionally!”
“At least she earns her money,” Applejack
countered. “When are you gonna pay your apple tab,
Rainbow Dash?”
“Eh, when I make it big with the Wonderbolts,
natch.” Rainbow Dash replied, folding her hooves
behind her head. Applejack just gave a little
grunt and shake of her head.
Twilight Sparkle looked out the window and just
frowned in concern.
“That’s very good, Diamond Tiara. You must
keep your head high, but stable. That’s it, Silver
Spoon. Lift those hooves with each step,” Rarity
said as she watched the young fillies walking in
careful circles with books balanced on their heads
through her cleared off workspace. The pair
screwed up their faces with concentration.
“What do we have to do this for? It’s sooooo
stupid!” Silver Spoon whined as she carefully
stepped over rolls of cloth, tripping up enough for
the book to tumble off her head. “Urrrgh!”
“Now now. Your parents want you to look like
proper ladies. That requires focus and
discipline,” Rarity replied primly. She lifted
the book with her magic to set atop her head and
casually strolled over each roll. The book didn’t
quiver in the slightest as Rarity turned and gave a
slow and graceful dance over the rolls of silk.
For a moment she could almost hear the music.
The door opened and admitted Twilight Sparkle.
Rarity’s hoof caught on a roll, and for a horrible
second she was about to fall. Then she recovered
with a tight twist, the book still balanced
perfectly atop her purple curls. Even Diamond
Tiara and Silver Spoon looked impressed as she
bowed her head without it shifting. “And THAT,
ladies, is why you have to practice doing this. It
is the first step towards grace.”
After that she escorted the two fillies from
Carousel Boutique and returned to Twilight Sparkle,
she let out her breath and sighed in relief, “Thank
you for saving me from that pair. Another comment
about how something was ‘stupid’ and I’d have
punted them.”
“You’re welcome, but why are you tutoring them
in the first place? Doesn’t Sweetie Belle… well…
hate them?”
“She’s with her friends tonight at
Fluttershy’s. I’m tutoring the pair as best as I’m
able on dignity and proper gracefulness as high
society requires,” Rarity said with a sigh,
“Personally I’d rather teach a diamond dog
etiquette.”
“Well why are you doing it then ?” Twilight
Sparkle asked softly.
Rarity’s eyes darted about a moment as she
fished for an excuse. “Well, it’s not precisely a
trouble. And there is some compensation from their
parents.”
“You’re tutoring them for money?” Twilight
Sparkle asked incredulously. Rarity’s curls seemed
to tighten before her eyes.
“Yes! Fine. I admit it. I’m passing on the
skills I’ve learned for money. Twenty bits a
night. Filthy lucre. There, happy?” She asked
sharply as she stomped around the work shop and
started to levitate the rolls of fabric back onto
the shelves. “I’m sorry that my gift was so
‘chintzy’. I’ll get you something appropriate
later.”
“Rarity! The gift is fine,” Twilight Sparkle
said as she magically gripped a roll of purple
cloth and interrupted Rarity’s furious cleaning.
Twilight walked around to look her in the eye and
saw the pain and worry within. “I don’t mind a
journal. ” Rarity let go of the fabric with her
magic, and Twilight Sparkle set it aside. Their
eyes met, and Twilight Sparkle gave a gentle smile,
“But clearly, something about this bothers you.
Tell me.”
Rarity backed away, her hooves tapping
nervously beneath her. “Twilight Sparkle… It’s not
something I can talk about.”
“You’re not… broke, are you?” Twilight Sparkle
asked as she looked around the store at all the
fantastic fabrics.
“No!” It wasn’t the volume of her rejection
that made Twilight Sparkle retreat. In Rarity’s
eyes were a fear. A pain. Something that Twilight
Sparkle had never seen before in the confident
Rarity. For a moment Twilight Sparkle thought that
the elegant white pony was going to do… something.
Scream. Cry. But before her eyes Rarity
recovered. It was as if all she saw was brushed
behind a veil and Rarity was once more simply
Rarity. “No, Twilight Sparkle. I will never be
like that again.”
“Again?” Rarity closed her eyes and Twilight
Sparkle knew the unicorn was kicking herself.
“Please Rarity. You can talk with me about
anything. We’re friends... You know that, right?”
“Friends,” Rarity said solemnly for a moment.
Rarity looked at her friend and then turned away,
“It’s nothing. No matter at all!” She said firmly
as she walked to the window to look out at the
setting sun, her eyes distant. “It’s in the past.
It should stay there.”
“But it’s hurting you now, Rarity.”
Rarity didn’t answer that as she gazed out the
window. “I can almost hear the music some nights.
Badum ba-da-dum-dum…” She sang softly. “I can
still see the ponies all in their fine dresses and
coats dancing in neat rows. Elegant waltzes.
Saucy tangos. Schottisches. Branles. Pavanes and
Minuets. Elaborate dishes with an entire meal
distilled to a single bite of exquisite flavor.
And the gossip, oh the gossip! Unending and all so
trivial but so tantalizingly vital.” Blue eyes
looked at her friend with a sad smile, “You haven’t
a clue what I’m talking about, do you?”
“Um… no. Not really.” Twilight Sparkle said
softly with a sheepish smile.
“I’m talking about being rich. Fantastically
wealthy. Of having so much that you could never
want for a trifle.” She then looked over to a small
dusty chest and her horn glowed. The lock clicked,
lid lifted, and Rarity lifted a dingy, battered
book with her horn. It hovered in front of her as
it turned over in the air. “I don’t know why I
held on to this. There’s nothing in here that I
want to remember,” she said as she ran her hoof
over the water stained cover. Gold fleck still
clung to the corners, and there was a hint of lace
still clutched to the edge. “I suppose that it’s a
part of me, no matter how much I dislike it.
Here.” She levitated the book to Twilight Sparkle.
“It should answer your questions.”
Dear Journal,
I refuse to refer to this as a diary. Sunsparkle
seemed to think this was an adequate gift for my
birthday. From the teasing my guests gave her
about purchasing me a ‘diary’ it’s clear that a
diary is something for common ponies. It was an
adequate party with adequate cake and adequate
presents and adequate music. Madam LeFleur told me
that adequate is a word that fancy ponies use all
the time. This has been an adequate entry in an
adequate journal.
Personally, I don’t think there’s much point to
writing in this. Madam LeFleur will probably just
make me walk with it on my head. Sooooo stupid.
Your owner Rarity.
The spectacular Rarity.
The one and only Rarity.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
We took a day trip down to the marketplace today,
just mother and father and me. Apparently I am
going to be having a little sister. This simply
will not do and I informed mother and father of
this immediately. I do not want a sister. If I’m
Rarity then if I have a sister I’ll be half as
rare! Father and Mother seemed angry, but they
didn’t argue for a change. It seems as if they are
trying to be very happy right now. I don’t see
why. I am quite unhappy with the whole
arrangement!
Something simply must be done!
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Ooh I could just kick the cook, if it weren’t so
unlady like. My friends came over and she tried to
serve us sugared grass instead of alfalfa. Can you
imagine? She gave some lame excuse of not having
any. Why doesn’t she just go out and buy some
more? It was a complete scandal and I know that
Silvercrest and Opalescence will be reminding me of
this faux pas forever!
In spite of that, we did have a delightful time
playing Princesses and Prince. Silvercrest is
still insisting that when we are grown, she’ll be
the one to marry Prince Blueblood. The nerve!
Every pony knows that I’m destined to marry him.
We also gave advice to Sunsparkle about how to
handle boys. The silly dear needs to learn to
flutter her lashes more.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Madam LeFleur had an argument with mother today
about not being paid. I thought it rather silly.
Mother is about to be another mother and is quite
cross about most things. She even yelled at me for
making too much noise practicing my dancing.
Mother will simply pay Madam LeFleur later. I’ve
been putting a lot of practice into Madam LeFleur’s
dancing and etiquette lessons. I’ve even been
practicing my enunciation, which means speaking
like a proper filly and not like some apple farming
bumkin. According to Madam LeFleur, only the
poorest and most slovenly ponies actually farm.
Can you imagine getting dirty? I’d rather die.
I do hope mother and father stop arguing. It’s
quite trying some nights. Perhaps they’ll stop
once my new sister arrives.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
I know it hasn’t been as long as before, but I have
little else to do. My sister is here and her name
is Unique. Can you imagine! They may as well have
told me I’m common garbage. I adamantly insisted
they send her back at once, but mother became very
cross with me. Father became cross with her. She
became cross with him. It all ended with the foal
quite cross!
I hoped I might spend time with Silvercrest or
Opalescence, but suddenly all my friends are quite
busy! I can’t quite put my horn on it, but it’s
like they’re suddenly embarrassed to be my friends!
I can’t even manage three words to them before
they have some excuse. Mother quite angrily said
that we’d find some true friends!
I hope mother and father stop arguing soon. It
makes my head heart to hear them shouting at one
another.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
I have never had a more miserable time in my life!
I was secretly quite thrilled to learn that I
wouldn’t have to put up with Madam LeFleur’s
lessons on enunciation and elocution, but I found
out that the cook and the cleaning ponies have left
the house as well. There was no pony to draw my
bath this morning, can you imagine?
Mother was quite beside herself. I told her that
she should simply get a new cook and servants. For
a moment I thought she was going to yell at me, but
instead she began to weep. This will teach me to
keep my mouth shut my opinions to myself. Mother
and father have been trying to have their friends
over every night, but the few that do visit are
positively rude! They eat the food and then
immediately leave. Father just stands there in the
door, watching them go. I know mother is a
terrible cook but there’s no excuse for crude
manners. He should but his hoof down and tell them
not to be rude. That’s what I’d do.
Silvercrest told me the nastiest lie yesterday
night. She said that father and mother have no
money. That we’re poor and that’s why all the
servant ponies left and no one will be my friend
anymore. I said that she was a horrible liar and a
terrible friend. We can’t be poor. We have a big
house and I have all my dresses. I’m even going to
the Grand Galloping Gala! Poor ponies don’t go to
that. Perhaps I’ll meet a prince.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Everything’s been so quiet. Father and mother
don’t argue any more. They don’t do anything.
Mother spends hours around Unique. Father just
looks at papers for hours and hours on end. Mother
doesn’t have most of her fancy dresses or jewels
any more. I loved her jewels. They were so bright
and cheery. She said she was clearing out space,
so I told her she could take my dresses too. She
just looked at me and started to cry. I don’t see
what the bother is. I never see my friends former
friends anymore and mother seems to need to get rid
of things.
I was wrong about the arguing. I’d rather hear
mother and father yelling than all this quiet.
Thank you for listening to me, Journal.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Something is terribly wrong with father. I was
playing with Unique in the ballroom and Unique was
babbling and being generally agreeable. Then I
spotted father watching us with a look most
peculiar. I don’t know quite how to put it into
words. A statue? No. He was like... a ghost.
He walked in and Unique babbled at him for a bit.
I suggested in passing that Unique was getting big
enough for her first baby dress and asked him if we
might go to market to shop for her. He looked as
if he was in pain! Then he simply retreated to his
study. He spends all his time there with those
papers. Why would any pony write in red?
I will talk with mother about it tomorrow.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Terrible accident. Father fell out the third story
window from his study
Dear Journal,
I’m sorry for crying on that last entry. I’ve been
taking care of Unique while mother gets us ready to
move to a smaller house. I thought I’d be mad, but
taking care of her is better than thinking about
what happened. Windows should stay locked. I
spent time in the upstairs ball room going over the
dances Madam LeFleur taught me, showing them to
Unique. She simply sucks on her hoof, the silly
thing.
Mother refuses to talk about father. When I
asked about the accident she hit me I will simply
not think about it. I won’t be sad to leave this
house. It doesn’t feel like home any more. The
rooms are all empty and echo when you walk past. I
found one of my old cloaks in a cupboard. It still
fits, though I stuck myself with a sewing needle
left in the hem. I bundled it up into my saddle
bag. It may come in useful.
Unique really isn’t all that bad.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
This new house is certainly… cozy. I won’t say
its bad because when I did that mother wept for
nearly an hour. I’m sharing a room with Unique and
she’s fussy, but I told her we simply must make the
best of it. She simply babbled at me, but I think
she understood. I’ve tried to make sure everything
is neat and clean. Madam LeFleur said dirt was the
mark of poor ponies. We might be in a small house
but we’re not that.
Mother is giving etiquette lessons to some of
the fillies and colts in this neighborhood for
money. She doesn’t have very many students. The
ponies in this neighborhood don’t like us much.
They call us ‘snooty ponies’. I am not snooty. I
know snooty. If I introduced them to Silvercrest
they’d never call me snooty again.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
These common ponies are incomprehensible. They
play in the street or empty lots with balls,
sticks, and hoops. I’ve tried to be friendly, yet
these children shy away from me with distrust. I
try to discuss things like fancy dresses, balls,
and dances and they simply look at me as if I’m
babbling. I tried drawing in a filly with talk
about the Grand Galloping Gala, but she was utterly
disinterested! Doesn’t she know a prince attends?
I’ve found that boys are much easier to
confound with a bit of praise. A flutter of the
eyes and a sweet smile and they’ve been generous
enough to provide some assistance: milk for Unique,
a few treats and trinkets, even some cloth that
I’ve tried to turn into shawls for myself and
Unique. Yet for some odd reason, they’re always
angry the next day. I think they’re starting to
avoid me.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
It’s been terrible here. Everything is quiet
again. Mother yelled at two of her students and
now they’ve all quit. Mother cries all the time
now. She tried working in some shop, but I guess
being rich she doesn’t know how to do anything. I
don’t know how to do anything.
I went to my friends and asked them for help.
They were all so terrible. They laughed at my
scuffed up mane and my chipped hooves. Let them
live where I do and see if they keep their manes
nice and clean. Except I want to be clean. I want
to be pretty. I hate it, but I want to be like
them. Silvercrest said she’d pay me five bits to
do something horrible. I suggested what she could
do with her bits. The local ponies have quite the
colorful vocabulary.
Sunsparkle gave me her mother of pearl mane
comb. I told her that her journal was the best
present I ever recieved.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Mother is gone all the time now. She leaves
late and sometimes isn’t back till dawn. She seems
so sad. No. Not sad. Empty. She doesn’t even
want to see Unique. She brings us things to eat;
usually wormy apples or foul lettuces. Unique and
I walk all the way to the park to eat grass, but
it’s tough and makes my tummy ache. Unique needs
milk; the grass makes her sick. The money from the
comb is gone.
I take care of Mother and Unique now. I try to
keep mother comfortable and Unique quiet. I’m
trying to teach her how to walk with a book on her
head, like Madam LeFleur taught me. I think I’ll
tuck a few strands of her mane here. When she’s
bored of that, I’ll dance for her. She can’t
waltz, but I can’t waltz well either. I made a
horn puppet with that needle from my cloak. It
makes her laugh.
I love her laugh.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Mother’s been gone for three days. I’ve asked
about her, but nopony knows where she went. Some
mean colts said she’d left forever because she
doesn’t want us anymore.
She’ll come home soon. We’re out of everything
but grass and a little milk.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
We don’t have a house anymore! Some pony came
while Unique and I were out looking for mother and
threw everything in a pile outside the front door!
Now it’s all locked tight and what little we had is
broken or taken. I’m so glad no one took you,
Journal. I found Unique’s horn puppet, my cloak,
and some milk in a bottle.
We’re staying with Stone Walker, one of the
ponies whose foal took lessons from mother. Unique
and I don’t really have a room, but there’s a niche
in the corner of the basement we’re staying in. I
tried to clean it as best I could. I think that
Stone Walker didn’t understand why I simply had to
clean up her basement. I’d clean up the rest of
the house if she liked, but she has so many
children that they would just mess everything up.
Unique said ‘Warity’. I’ve never cried so much
in my life. I was quite touched.
Simply Rarity.
Dear Journal,
Stone Walker threw us out of her home. I told
her how her husband kept brushing against my flank.
She called me a horrible liar and said I was just
like mother. I cried and beat my hooves on the
door but she never opened it. I don’t think any
pony here will take us in. I don’t know what to
do.
I went to my friends again. I’ll do all the
horrible things Silvercrest wants. I couldn’t get
in though. The servants all pretended not to know
me, even though I called them by name. Even
Sundancer’s family wouldn’t help, but their cook
did give me three bottles of milk for Unique and
some honey muffins for me. Then I was told to
never come back. I don’t think I could bear to.
I hope I can find some ink.
Just Rarity.
Dear Journal,
We’re staying at a place called a shelter.
It’s not more than a big empty room with dirty hay
on the floor, but it’s warm and dry. There’s so
many ponies here just like us. Old, young,
Unicorn, Pegasus, Earth, but we’re all dirty.
Sometimes there’s clean water for a bath. The
ponies that keep the shelter are so very kind. But
I can tell they want to take Unique away. They say
they can find us a new home with good parents, but
they could find a home for Unique faster alone. I
can’t lose Unique.
I try and fix whatever I can with my needle.
There are so many clothes with rips and tears that
every pony needs something sewn. I try and make it
look pretty. Everything might be dirty, but it
doesn’t have to be ugly too. It makes them smile
when they see something pretty added to it.
Just Rarity.
Dear Journal,
We left the shelter. Some ponies said I had to
give up Unique. She’s too young to be with me, and
I’m too young to care for her. I’ll care for her!
I’ll do everything I can for her. I had to kick
and bite when they tried to separate us. I don’t
think they expected me to put up a fight, but I
did.
I don’t know what we’ll do, but I won’t let
anything happen to Unique.
Just Rarity.
Dear Journal,
The little bottle of ink from the shelter is
almost empty. I added water to what remains for
this entry. Unique and I were attacked, and not by
some stranger. They were boys from the
neighborhood we used to live in! They knew us!
They tried to take Unique’s cloak not because they
needed it, but because they could!
Never have I been so outraged! I kicked, bit,
shoved, and called them the most polysyllabic
insults I could think of at the time. They fled, I
think, more afraid that I fought at all than any
damage I actually caused. Unique was quite
impressed.
Just Rarity.
Dear journal,
Sorry to use charcoal, but it’s free. Unique
and I walk around all the time. It’s all there is
to do. If we’re not walking, soon the horrible
feelings inside build up and I want to cry. I
can’t cry. I can’t. If I cry then Unique will too
and she’s trying so very hard not to cry. We’re
both so filthy. We can’t keep clean. We try,
Journal. We try so hard!
I have to find some milk for Unique. She still
can’t handle grass.
Rarity.
Dear diary,
We can’t stay here any longer. We simply
can’t. It’s not about money any more. It’s us.
Unique found three bits in the gutter. Filthy.
Dirty. But it was money. I went straight to a
milk vendor to purchase three bottles. He told us
to leave. We weren’t begging. We showed him the
money! Still he refused and insisted we go. He
was embarrassed to sell to two filthy young ponies!
We went to three others before we found a vendor
willing to sell two bottles to us.
But it’s more than that. I fear that we’re
becoming invisible. Ponies simply don’t look at us
any more. They see, but their eyes are fixed.
They talk louder when they pass, as if afraid we
might ask them for help. Those ponies who do see
are even worse. They glare as if sure we’ll take
something! And worst of all… ponies who think
we’re funny. Like we chose to be like this. Like
we want to be like this.
Rarity.
Dear diary,
We’re not in town anymore. No pony likes us
there anyway. We’re outside town where there’s far
more grass than in the park, even if it’s all
yellow. We stopped by a farm and the cows were
very nice. They gave Unique all the milk she could
drink.
I wonder what happened to mother. Did she have
an accident, like father? I sometimes tell Unique
that mother was wisked away by an evil witch and
that someday she’ll come back. It doesn’t feel
like a lie. I want it to be true so much, and it
makes Unique happy. I tell her we’re going to look
for mother and it makes her smile.
I want to stay at the farm, but I know the look
the farmers gave us. It’s the same look.
Still, Unique and I are full and the fallen
leaves are far more comfortable than I’d ever
imagined. Even the moon and stars are so much
lovelier than in town.
Rarity.
Dear Diary,
For the first time in months I feel clean.
It’s the warmest day we’ve felt thus far, and
Unique and I found a stream in which to bathe. I
know we’re still a sight. I look at mud and my
stomach simply clenches. I think I might have an
allergy to dirt. Can you imagine anything so
silly?
I miss mother and father so much.
Rarity.
Dear diary,
I’ve been told this road leads to another town.
I told Unique that mother’s probably there waiting
for her. She doesn’t like walking. I keep
reminding myself she’s a new sister. I carry her
as best I can. I took apart the horn puppet to
patch up my cloak and stuff it with leaves. I even
sewed on some particularly pretty acorns. Unique
was so happy. She called herself a princess.
She should be a Princess.
I read about how I felt about her before.
She’s a Princess. She’s sweet and kind and
wonderful and I’m not.
Rarity.
Dear Diary,
It’s snowing again. It never snowed like this
before. It’s so beautiful and Unique is entranced.
We danced together as it fell upon us, like a ball
for only the two of us. She’s Princess Unique.
I’m Princess Rarity. Our hooves leave tracks
across the still woods. She’s so very happy. It’s
getting cold though as we only have one cloak. We
both try to fit under it as we make our way through
the snow.
I hope we find someplace warm soon. Unique is
cold from our dancing.
Rarity.
der dary
unique
Dear Diary,
I was found in the woods and taken to a farm.
I wish they hadn’t. I wish they’d left me with
her. They keep trying to feed me apples and clean
me up but it doesn’t matter. One of the girls here
keeps trying to be nice. I don’t deserve her being
nice to me. I call her stupid hateful things, like
I’m Silvercrest. Her parents know I don’t mean it,
but I think she’s mad with me. Her red brother is
quiet. He leaves me alone. I think he
understands.
I can’t stay here. I don’t deserve to stay
here, but they won’t let me go till spring. I
still have my needle. I’ll sew some things up for
them. I can do that at least. I miss Unique I miss mother and father I hate
being here I hate being alone I hate the pity and
the looks and the crying I hate the kindness that I
don’t deserve I hate myself for being here when
unique isn’t I hate
Dear Diary,
I’m in this new place, Ponyville. It’s much
smaller than where we used to live. Every pony is
nice to me because they know what happened to
Unique. They try and give me things, but I won’t
take them. I told them my name is Silvercrest. My
mane is filthy and tangled and dirty. I hate it.
It’s what I deserve. I don’t think I can stay
here. I don’t think I can stay anywhere.
Rarity
Silvercrest.
Dear Diary,
I have a job. There’s a seamstress here who
makes a living mending clothes. A widow named
Thimble. She’s heard I’m good with a needle and so
I’m helping her. She has a room. I told her that
I’d pay to stay there. I won’t let her just let me
stay. I won’t. So I sew up simple things and she
lets me stay.
I keep thinking about what happened. Everything
that’s happened. I think about throwing this
journal away. Even burning it. But I can’t. But
I also can’t stop thinking about it!
I told her a little about me. She said that it
was silly to give up my name. That I was a Rarity.
That no pony my age had been through what I had
and kept going. It made me feel better. She’s
going to let me practice with her sewing machine.
Rarity.
Dear Diary,
I met Silvercrest and Sunsparkle today.
Silvercrest’s family were passing through on
their way to the Grand Galloping Gala when
Silvercrest ripped the hideous pink thing she
called a ball room dress. She resembled a fat pig
with green ribbons. Pink and lime green? How did
she ever think that would look good? I felt so bad
for Sunsparkle, stuck with Silvercrest as she
whined about how unfair it was her dress had
ripped.
A dress. A ripped dress was unfair. I had to
focus or I feared I would scream and throttle her!
Sunsparkle’s own garb was decent enough. It
was so hard for me to mention that with just a few
less ribbons it could be so much more. Silvercrest
was, of course, rude while Thimble sewed up the
tear. How could I know proper pony fashion? A few
ribbons less though made such a difference. A
braid in her mane that pulled her hair out of her
eyes and emphasized her throat helped wonderfully.
When they were leaving, I thanked her for her
comb. She had no idea what I was talking about.
Still, I hope she has a good time at the Gala.
Maybe she’ll meet a prince.
Rarity.
Dear Diary,
Thimble asked to adopt me. I’m not sure how to
feel. I know she cares for me. She pities me. I
think she might even love me a little. Yet when I
think of family, a gulf opens wide inside me. I
remember mother and father yelling. I remember
father’s suicide accident. Snow. It hurts. And
I’m afraid that if I accept then somehow I’ll make
the bad things that happened to me happen to her.
It’s silly, but I am so afraid.
Rarity.
Dear Diary,
Thimble is going to have a baby. I’m going to
have to take over most of the chores running the
shop. There’s so much to remember! Still, I’ve
figured out the sewing machine.
Misses Muffin wants a wedding dress made.
She’s marrying Mr. Cake in their very bakery. It
was supposed to be just a simple affair. White
with white. It took so long for me to mention, in
passing, that perhaps she might like a new dress.
Something… better. I never expected her to agree!
Now I have to design an entire dress!
Yet, despite everything I have to admit I’m
excited! I’ve never done anything like it before.
Even Thimble’s never designed an entire dress, but
when I close my eyes I can almost see it. And it’s
strange but when I focus on doing this… I don’t
think about… other things.
Oh what have I gotten myself into?
Miss Rarity.
Dear Diary,
The dress was an utter disaster. The hem was
uneven and the embroidery was simply awful. I
nearly tore the whole thing to pieces. Somehow
Miss Muffin adored the ghastly thing! It was so
hard, but I had to concentrate! I had to focus on
every little detail. That’s how I know it was
terrible.
She paid me twenty bits for it.
I’ve never actually earned money before. Money.
It should have been important to me but when it
jingled in my hoof it seems… stupid. I know that’s
silly. Money’s the most important things in the
world. If we’d had money father wouldn’t have
killed many troubles could have been avoided. I
tried to give it to Thimble, but she said I’d all
ready paid my rent and it’d been all my work. I’d
earned that money.
Mother and Father would have spent it. I would
have spent it. Money was for spending, yet… I’ll
save it. Perhaps something important will come up.
Tailor Rarity.
Dear Diary,
Thimble had her baby! She’s… everything.
Everything precious and delicate and sweet. I said
she should be named Sweetie Belle. She looks just
like her mother with her pink mane, but Thimble
says she looks like me. I couldn’t say who she
really looks like. I cried so much once I was back
in my room. It hurt so much. But I’m still going
to make her a horn puppet. I focus on every
stitch, so I don’t think about the old memories.
It hurts to be a big sister again, but that’s
what I’ll be for her.
I have to.
Sister Rarity.
Dear Diary,
I’ve used up so many of your pages that I’m
nearly out. I never thought I’d ever fill this to
the very end. It makes me sad; isn’t that silly?
Thimble is making me go to school. It seems
silly given that I’ve all ready been tutored
adequately in enunciation and elocution. No, it’s
not silly. It’s scary. I’ve been on my own for so
long that the idea of being around other ponies
scares me. I don’t want to make friends like
Silvercrest again, and I know there are ponies like
her. Maybe not as rich, but every bit as mean.
Still, if I must, I’ll wash as well as I can.
I want to look clean and neat. I bought a roll of
fabric from Thimble and made myself a dress. It’s
simple enough. I try to brush up on everything
that Madam LeFleur taught me.
Who knows, it may be okay.
Nervous Rarity.
Dear Diary,
I! HATE!! APPLEJACK!!!
I was at school and it was… well… not so bad.
Not so bad, that is, till an Earth Pony named
Applejack asked me if I wanted to ‘play’.
Applejack doesn’t play. She mucks around in mud
puddles, kicks apples to splatter other ponies with
sticky pulp, and wrestles. My dress is RUINED
FOREVER! I called her a barbaric filthophile. She
laughed and said I talked funny. Funny!
I think... I think she might be her. That one
pony I met over the winter. She doesn’t seem to
recognize me, though.
Well. Dress aside… it wasn’t all bad. Perhaps
I’ll make friends with Applejack in time and teach
her how to be a proper lady. Never mind. Some
ponies are incapable of cleanliness.
Clean Rarity.
Dear Diary,
Boys are terribly silly ponies, aren’t they?
Apparently I’m quite a popular topic for them as
they do whatever boys do. I remember everything
that Madam LeFleur told me and they find simple
manners and grace quite fetching. Yet, I’m far
more careful this time. I remember what happened
before, and keep them at a hoof distance.
Politely. Like a lady.
It’s been so long, I’m surprised that I
remember how.
Lady Rarity.
Dear Diary,
The school is holding a play about the seasons.
I don’t really want to participate. I’m not an
actress. However, I have to admit their costumes
are… well… lacking. All right, they’re terrible.
But they don’t have to be. Perhaps I can help sew
something new. It has to be more than good though.
I want it to be spectacular!
Fidgeting Rarity
Dear Diary,
I GOT MY CUTIEMARK TODAY! What happened was
Dear Diary,
I can’t believe I was so excited I spilled ink
all over the page. I’ll write the details later.
I saw a homeless pony. He was older than me,
but not full grown. Ponyville doesn’t have a lot of
homeless ponies, they’re mostly just passing
through on their way to somewhere else. He had…
well… that look. That empty eyed look that made
him painful to look at. Was I ever as dirty as
that? Did I ever smell like that? I did. I know
I did.
I made him a blanket and used some of my money
to buy him something to eat and an old brush. He
looked at me like I was a ghost or something. He
started to cry. I know it’s hard for boys to cry,
so I left him alone after that. I hope he finds
somewhere to belong.
I am so lucky. Thimble has given me… no, not
given. I have to remember that. What she gave me
was an opportunity. Just like I gave that pony an
opportunity. I hope he makes it.
Happily Rarity.
Dear Diary,
Thimble is remarrying. I feel quite
overwhelmed. The loss of her husband and… my loss…
helped us stay together. Now she’s moving on with
her life. I should be happy for her. I should.
I’m not. I feel... terrified.
Only Thimble knows what I’ve been through and
she says I’m strong, but I don’t feel strong. I’m
afraid that without her I’ll fall apart again. She
simply tells me to make some friends and to simply
continue doing what I’ve been doing: living. It
sounds so simple, so why am I so afraid?
Cowardly Rarity,
Dear Diary,
I’m alone again. Thimble and Sweetie Belle
have left and I’m left in this great building.
Thimble wants to sell it to me, but right now I
can’t think of sewing. I can’t think of anything.
No, that’s not true. I keep thinking of
Unique. I keep thinking of father lying in the
courtyard. I keep thinking of the last day I saw
mother leave that filthy little house.
I don’t want to be alone. I’m sorry. I’ll
write when I’m less troubled.
Rarity
Dear Diary,
Sweetie Belle has returned. Thimble has said
that she found Canterlot a fine city, but
overwhelming for the young pony. Apparently
Sweetie Belle was quite inconsolable. The simple
solution is for her to stay with me until she’s
older and decides where she wants to live.
I didn’t know what else I could say besides
yes. Yet as I think about it, I think it the right
decision. I can’t let what happened to Unique
happen to Sweetie Belle. I have to focus and force
these maudlin ideas from my head. And oddly
enough, I can. In caring for Sweetie Belle I can
care for myself as well.
Is that courage?
Ambivalent Rarity.
Dear Diary,
Thimble is getting married and moving to
Canterlot. I was happy, but I admit to being
nervous. She’s helped so much, and even now she’s
still helping. She sold me her tailoring shop.
From now on this business is mine, for the price of
designing her wedding dress and two dresses for
Sweetie Belle and myself. I know it’s a token, but
it’s still a part of her promise.
Looking at the shop, I just have pictures of
how it could be. I’ll move the workshop upstairs
and turn the ground floor into a boutique! I’ll
design clothes for every pony for a hundred miles.
My talent for fashion has also been assisted by a
knack for locating gemstones. Certainly extraction
is a problem, but I’ll figure something out!
And I’ve also decided something else. I’ve
decided what to do with my money from the shop.
Some of it will go to paying the bills and buying
materials, certainly. Some of it I will save for
Sweetie Belle. One day she will know what she
wants to do with her life, and when she does I will
do all I can to help her as Thimble helped me.
But the rest I’m going to give away. There are
so many ponies across Equestria who are poor and
hurting. I could horde the bits and perhaps
someday even have the lifestyle mother and father
enjoyed, but I don’t want it. I’ll use my excess
to buy winter cloaks, food, milk, and help fund
shelters across Equestria. I don’t want to be rich
again. I’ve been rich. If I can help other ponies
from poverty, I will.
Sincerely Rarity.
Dearest Diary,
This is your final page. I never imagined in
my wildest dreams that my greatest friend would
ever be a book of my own writing. I know how vain
that sounds, but it’s true. At the very worst
times, and the very best, you’ve been with me.
You’re proof of all that I’ve gone through.
I don’t imagine I’ll ever share you with
another. Not even Sweetie Belle. So if any pony
is reading this, then I can only say that you are
the greatest of my friends. I hope that in reading
this, you understand a little bit about me. If I
seem reluctant to discuss my past, or evade
questions about my relationship to Sweetie Belle,
or act odd about money; you can now understand why.
And so, I can only hope that you will also
understand to never discuss it with me. The
memories are too raw to speak of. I don’t want
praise for my generosity or charity. I don’t
deserve praise. Had I been truly generous I would
have let the shelter take Unique away. What I do
to help others is my repayment for all the help
that’s been given to me. If at times I seem
reluctant to waste money, please understand that
there are many ponies who will never realize how
wealthy they truly are to those who have nothing.
So, mysterious reader, thank you for taking
this time and making the effort to understand a
pony undeserving of your friendship.
Sincerely, surely, simply,
Rarity.
Twilight Sparkle stared down at that final
page. Framing it were two length of silky soft
mane, one a delicate blue violet similar to
Rarity’s, but not, and the other a soft pink and
purple. Twilight Sparkle ran her hoof along both
strands, touching the two sisters in Rarity’s life.
Slowly she closed the book, levitated it, and
brought it to her lips. She kissed it softly and
then set it aside. She’d make sure it returned to
its owner.
In the dark evening light she looked towards
her bag and her horn glowed. The flap lifted and
she drew out the simple blank journal. She opened
it up in front of her, turning to the very first
page. Magic lifted her pen and with the softest of
smiles began to write.
Dear Diary,
Today was my birthday, and I got many wonderful
gifts from my friends. One friend, however, gave
me far more than simple presents. First, she gave
me you. Secondly, she gave me a story that she’s
never shared with another. And third, she gave me
an appreciation for just what generosity truly
means. Thanks to her I appreciate all I have all
the more, and hope that one day I can be as caring
a soul as she.
Sincerely, surely, simply,
Twilight Sparkle.
In the late night Rarity’s sewing machine
softly purred. The blankets were simple, but when
winter came they would be comfortable, durable, and
most importantly warm. Mrs. Cake had collected all
the left over pastries from Pinkie Pie’s party and
sent them in a basket. They’d reach their
destination a bit stale, but still edible. And
while no pony in the shelter would know who
‘parkle’ was on the birthday cake, that wouldn’t
stop them from appreciating it. Maybe they’d think
that ‘parkle’ sent the money along with the
package. Maybe not. All that mattered was that
some pony would be helped.
She hoped it wasn’t a mistake to give out that
book, but she thought she could trust Twilight
Sparkle. On this, at least, she wouldn’t blab her
secrets. Sweetie Belle would be back tomorrow.
She had to be careful. She wanted to give her
sister everything; the whole world if she could,
but Rarity knew what came of that. You couldn’t
give everything you wanted. Not even love, or it
would hurt.
She gazed out the window, singing softly under
her voice, “Badum ba-da-dum-dum…” As she sang she
remembered the dance with her sister in the empty
ball room. Hoof in hoof, whirling gaily, like they
never would again save for that one last time…
Slowly she lifted the lid of the chest and
reached down. The leaves were terribly brittle
stuffed within the faded red winter coat. There
were so many stains and splotches it was hard to
make out the original color. Her hoof softly
nudged a dry acorn still tied to the edge. Gently,
as gently as she’d stroked her sisters’ manes when
they were foals, she ran her hoof over the garment.
Then she closed the lid with a sigh.
Someday she might give it to Sweetie Belle, or,
perish the thought, a child of her own. It was
everything she would ever be. Would ever hope to
be. And so she adjusted her glasses, wiped away
any lingering tears, and continued her work; being
all that she was.
Simply Rarity.