Here’s the compilation for “Rarity, Interrupted” from June 26, 2012, an even dozen stories starring our favorite fashionista.
The Prompt: Rarity stops making a dress.
As always, stories are listed in the order received.
“What… is that?” Rainbow Dash asked, though the prismatic pegasus clearly knew exactly what she was looking at.
“Why, it’s your new dress for this year’s Gala, of course!” Rarity exclaimed in response, her voice as cheery as she could make it to hide the fear she was feeling at this moment. Rainbow Dash wasn’t supposed to see this dress, this gift, until it was done, when its radiant beauty would certainly make the obstinate mare see the light. But Rainbow had burst into her workroom, unannounced and unexpected, the question on the pegasus’ lips dying as she had seen the dress Rarity was working on, and now Rarity found herself scrambling to stick to her plan. “As you can see, I chose to go with a design inspired by the wide-open sky this year, very light and airy. You should be able to perform almost any of your stunts—”
“Why would you do this?”
“Rarity. Stop. You’ve been working non-stop for almost two-and-a-half days. At least sit down and eat something, for Celestia’s sake.”
Rarity sighed. Twilight was right, working this hard wasn’t good for her. She was tired and hungry and not exactly in the most ladylike of moods, and she knew that all of those things would wind up harming her creation. She also knew the importance of what she was making, however. Unpaid requests at the Carousel Boutique were already quite rare, typically reserved for Rarity’s close friends and relatives, and this was an incredibly special dress besides that fact.
“You don’t understand, though, Twilight,” Rarity moaned as she continued to shakily hem the dress. “Applejack asked this of me personally. Me! I’m not going to let her down, she’s-” She caught herself mid-sentence, biting her lip. Things just tended to slip out when she was tired, and she wasn’t about to say something she’d regret. “…she’s one of my closest friends.”
(I AM SORRY I TRIED OKAY D: )
A pale blue aura surrounds the lace as a unicorn’s magic transports it towards a mannequin. Uncurling the long ribbons of the lacy, intricate designs, she uses her tape measure to ensure she has exactly eleven inches prepared, and then envelops her scissors in the same blue magic and snips the lace exactly so before wrapping it around the waist of the mannequin, temporarily pinning it around the silky white fabric that hangs around the bottom of the unfinished dress. This gown truly is a work of art- hopefully her customer will like it. After all, it is their wedding gown, and all brides must look perfect for their big day, shouldn’t they? This particular woman – Strawberry Twirl or something along those lines, goodness, she hasn’t forgotten the client’s name, has she? – certainly seemed frazzled when requesting the dress, but they went over the specifics and she stated exactly what she’d like in her gown.
Rarity concentrated on the needle as it worked back and forth through the fabric, adding an intricate swirling pattern of golden thread work to the navy blue of the dress. The fringe of the dress was lined in white feathers and it hung around the neck of her dress form with a gold chain decorated with sapphires.
She was almost finished with it when Rainbow Dash glided in through her open window. Dash never came through the front door anymore. And Rarity never closed that window. Sometimes it got chilly, but feeling the breeze blowing in reminded her of Rainbow Dash and warmed her up in a different way.
Dash made no introduction before stepping up against Rarity’s side, a wing laying on Rarity’s back as Dash kissed her cheek.
“Three months. I told you I’d remember,” Dash said, grinning as if in victory.
Two ponies- one earth, one unicorn- stared at each other from their position on the couch. The unicorn planted a short kiss on the earth pony’s forehead.
“This is perfect, my dear,” the unicorn sighed contentedly.
The earth pony nodded her assent.
There was absolute silence, only pervaded by their combined breathing. Finally, the silence drew to a close as the earth pony opened her mouth.
“Again?” she asked, as she shot the unicorn a saucy look.
“Definitely,” she replied seductively, leaning in close to the other pony.
A ringing tune hit both the ponies’ ears, halting their advances.
“Hide!” Rarity hissed, ushering the earth pony into a back room. The unicorn picked herself up off the furniture, checking her coat for stains or patches of matted fur. She then made her way to her workbench, where a green dress lay, forgotten in the earlier ruckus. She bent over it and placed a hoof on the hem. She moved it around a little, making it look like she was working.
Rarity hemmed and hawed as she tried to figure out what else her current project and future masterpiece needed next. As was always the case with the fashion-minded unicorn, the dress had to be absolutely perfect. Every stitch needed to be perfectly executed, every single flourish flawless. Flourishes were her specialty, and this dress certainly was not lacking in them. Rarity smiled as she checked the front, making sure that the green bow across the chest was symmetrical. It was, of course. Such a detail would never have avoided her discerning eye. Of course, she wasn’t completely perfect, as was made evident by the teal feathers that she had sewn into the train. She had no idea what she was thinking when she’d added those. Upon a second look, they were quite possibly the tackiest things she’d ever seen. She began to pull the feathers off violently, as an affront to the loveliness of this dress deserved no less. She managed to control herself at the last moment; surely such things could come in handy for a future project. Rarity carefully removed the offending feathers and set them in a heap on the ground. This was her inspiration room, and maybe they would serve for inspiration in the future.
It was a beautiful dress, even in its half finished state. The dress had ruffles upon ruffles, elaborate and perfectly placed, accented with the loveliest amethysts and diamonds that magic could find. Every stitch had been sewn with the utmost care, and every last detail had been planned with the utmost attention. And it was a white as pure and as blindingly bright as was a fresh fallen snow.
It was a beautiful dress. A radiant dress. Perhaps, even the single most beautiful garment that she had ever created.
Rarity absolutely despised it.
“No, no, no! This is all wrong!” Rarity slashed a quill across her latest design, if one could call it that. She crumpled up the paper she was using and tossed it into the rest of her discarded designs. Hundreds of papers piled on top of one another. Each scrapped idea reminded Rarity that she could not come up with a new dress design.
“Why,” she asked no one in particular. “Why isn’t my muse speaking to me?” She paced around her sanctum. Her design room was the place she normally used to create the initial designs of dresses. It was the very room she was standing in where she got the inspiration to create her friends Gala dresses. It was the same room that told her to create cloaks for herself and her friends. The room was where all her ideas came from. So why wasn’t it speaking to her?
As Spike took out the trash for Rarity this week he couldn’t help himself but wonder what was in that peculiar shaped box. Normally the paper boxes he took out were all, at least to an extent, white and oval or heart shaped. But this one was a standard brown, and square. He didn’t make a fuss about it though and instead just did what he was told to do. Once Rarity thanked him using the surname he oh-so loved, “Spikey-Wikey”, she went back into her pavillion. Spike then quickly took the box out of the bin and opened it, sending a wave of dust towards him, making him cough. He tried to suppress it, but it only made the matter worse as Rarity peeked out of her door, wondering if he got sick all of the sudden. The dust had soon settled and Rarity had finally a clear view on what was going on. Spike was holding something, something she hoped to actually never see again. She galloped out of under her porch and ran towards Spike, taking the object out of his small claws and quickly stuffing it back into the Box. Spike sensed that he no longer had the dress and now used both his hands to rub his eyes as the dust had stopped him from seeing anything. After a few moments he blinked a few times and looked up to Rarity who seemed to be a bit flustered. He laughed shyly and grinned sheepishly before taking a more responsible attitude, “Sorry… I was just really curious.” He hoped Rarity was not too mad about him. Her smile convinced him of the opposite.
[I went so far over time and I regret nothing]
Twilight jumped as the door to the library banged open and Rarity burst in. The fashionista pony was a mess, her mane was disheveled , she breathed heavily, her eyes were tired and red rimmed, lines of cloth were draped across her body that were shot through with lines where it had been cut torn and ripped.
“Twilight,” she panted, “Help… horror… attacking.”
“Rarity are you alright what’s going on,” Twilight asked.
Rarity’s response was overpowered by a horrifying scream from outside. As though a dozen pony voices were screaming for aid and being shouted down by the high pitched screams of some greater predator.
Rarity was engulfed in her work; she worked furiously, tirelessly, for this was going to be her magnum opus! She could feel it in her bones! When this dress was finished, it would dazzle all who set eyes on it. Everypony would want one, especially the important ponies, and she’d shoot to the top of the fashion ladder! So she could not stop. She needed this constant energy to flow, to build that picture of the perfect dress she envisioned in her head. If she stopped for one moment, it could be gone, replaced with a similar, surely fabulous dress. But it wouldn’t be that perfect dress.
Perhaps her obsession with that dress was what allowed her to brush so closely with death. Her attacker moved up slowly, surely, as she frantically murmured and stitched. It lifted its arm, aimed, and fired.
She sighed at the mannequin, tenderly scratching its chin as if it were alive. She circled it as she examined the dress covering the body. There was no use for this dress. The color aggravated her eyes. The shape infuriated Rarity. It would be better if she stowed it away in a room full of moths so they could at least feast on that deplorable excuse for an elegant garment.
And that’s all she wrote! Good work, everyone, and the stories shall be posted shortly. Thanks for participating. :)
At last, it’s here, my moment to shine! Gather round, darlings, I know you simply can’t wait a single moment longer to witness the beauty and skill of one Rarity as she makes a wonderful— ah, an amazing— um. Be a dear and hold that thought, would you?
The Prompt: Rarity stops making a dress.
This is a 30-minute prompt. Write your story in a 30-minute session, and submit it within 6 hours of this prompt. The submission box will close at 8 PM Pacific, 11 PM Eastern, and 4 AM GMT.