It was, without question, just a baby. She could tell from the way it kept…drooling. And shrieking. It seemed to quite like shrieking, on the whole – not quite so much as dribbling, or soiling itself, but still. She supposed that was acceptable – everypony needed a hobby, and there were so few things one could do as a baby. It was reasonable that developing disgusting habits could have somehow made it to the very top of the list.
That didn’t mean it wasn’t gross. And it also didn’t mean that she had to like it. It was a distraction, a nuisance. It kept…cooing at her, while she was trying to concentrate on designing dresses, or dropping food all over her nice clean carpet. And she always had to change its diapers. And her mother never had time to admire her designs anymore. Truly, the past weeks had been the single most gruelling of her life.
It gurgled, from behind her, and she tried very politely to ignore it. She was not about to be baited into yet another pointless confrontation with the filthy little creature. They only ever ended badly for her – her parents simply hadn’t understood that the baby had smeared pudding in her mane. They had blamed her, for taking away its food. As though she were to blame for the fact the baby preferred projectile weapons to decent meals.
A hiss of irritation escaped her as she remembered the hours she had struggled to cleanse her mane of the disgusting, sticky mess. Even then it had positively reeked for days – her father assured her that it had been her imagination, but she knew! She was a fashionista, and she knew flaws when she saw them. Or smelt them. Or otherwise encountered them!
The baby sniffled and she winced, steeling herself for the inevitable assault against her hearing and her dignity – but it didn’t come. She shot a careful glance over her shoulder at it, just to be sure it hadn’t done itself some harm, and found that it was staring at her again. Those brilliant green eyes were fixed on her, following her every movement, and the baby was grinning. She offered a careful smile in turn – it wouldn’t do to upset it, after all. That would be simply unacceptable.
It would cry. And then she’d have to deal with it, because her parents had once again wandered off and left it in her care. And she might do something wrong, and make things worse like she always seemed to. No, better to appease her and let her know that yes, her big sister was still nearby. Yes, she had wonderful taste in objects of admiration.
Then Rarity wouldn’t have to touch her, and she could stay cooing and giggling and happy for as long as she pleased.
Besides, there were more important things to worry about. As the last stitch was made and the tell-tale snip echoed through the air, the fashionista grinned. It was complete – the first garment she had had the time or the inspiration to complete since the baby had ruined everything, and it was complete.
Elegant. Soft. Gentle purple decorated with radiant dashes of soft pink, ending in a heart pattern at the very centre. It was, she had to congratulate herself, the absolute perfect welcoming gift for a brand new little sister. But of course it was. She had made it, after all.
And then, at long last, it came – a shrill cry that tore through the silence and sent a jolt of fear through her. In a heartbeat she was across the room and holding Sweetie Belle close in her forelegs, rocking her softly and whispering reassurances.
She might not be the best sister in the world – perhaps she made too many mistakes, or complained too much, or didn’t really think that drool covered babies were as cute as everypony else claimed – but she was still going to be the best sister she could be.
And when the tears finally stopped, and Sweetie Belle pressed a tiny hoof to her muzzle, Rarity smiled. Then, being very careful to find a spot not damp with drool or tears, she kissed her little sister gently on the forehead and whispered, “I love you, my little sweetheart. Would you like to see what your big sister made for you?”
Sweetie Belle just smiled, and let out a delighted giggle.
Aw, a very sweet story for the Sweetie prompt. Sisterly love was not what I’d planned for but I’m glad you went in this direction. I think you captured Rarity very well here and showed a complex view of her, and the story flows naturally from Rarity complaining about her new baby sister to giving her the gift. This was a really touching story!