FSE

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The sketch was crumpled and torn to shreds by a flash of agitated magic.

It flew into a waste bin filled to the rim with likewise failed sheets. Curses and frustrated grunts echoed in a work room. Rarity took off her reading glasses and rubbed her eyes. She was tired and strained. The Diamonds After Dark line was shaping up to be a carriage wreck.

A mirror was in the work room. She never met a mirror she didn't like, but this one reflected company she didn't care to keep for long. The mare looked a mess. Her curls, normally full purple loops of grace, were unkempt and frizzy. The glitter in her eyes were dimmed by the storm clouds outside the window. Piles of sketches crossed out with an X and a squad of pencils plagued with bite marks littered the room. But she already knew about those. At least her fur looked nice.

Rarity blew a slow puff of air out of her muzzle.

"Look at you," she whispered. "You're a lady. Ladies are not supposed to be this way." Her reflection couldn't think of anything to say. She leaned back in her chair and tried to organize her thoughts but they scattered as a burst of thunder rattled her windows. Somewhere deep within the home her enormous cat mrowled in agitation.

The lady needed a drink. Not coffee -she gotten as much use from caffeine as possible for the day. No, she wanted something more intimate and persuasive to soothe her nerves. A voice flickered in her head, saying spirits and wines would not provide the particular relief she sought.

She 'hmmphed' to herself. Hoof steps echoed down an otherwise empty hallway on her way to the kitchen. She looked in the pantry and found a bottle filled with enough distraction -a temporary solution to a stubbornly long-lasting problem.

The fact of things were simple and plain. It was embarrassing, but pretty truths were rare. Rarity was lonely. There it was. She couldn't dress it up with ribbons and lace, or stuff it in a box at the back of her closet, try as she might.

She went to the table. The bottle and a glass trailed behind her like a line of children going to school on a Monday.

Lonely.

She sneered. An absurd notion. Here she was -Rarity, premiere socialite and fashionista extraordinaire! Sweet of tongue, sharp of mind, gifted with beauty in body and spirit. It wasn't a boast. It was true. But for all of those blessings she lacked for company and it made her miserable. Miserable and empty. She loathed it. There was no grace to the pit of longing in her chest. She couldn't wring any inspiration from it or put it to practical use.

It only made her pour a measure of wine out of a half-empty bottle. She picked up her wine glass with a dim field of humming magic.

She wished she could be angry instead. Anger could be directed, focused. More than a few nights were spent in high-powered productivity because she felt good and mad. Even boredom would've been preferable to simple emptiness. There was an odd elegance to a fine lady lounging on a couch with nothing better to do for the rest of the day, her eyes staring off into some undefinable world two steps beyond her own. Artists could find inspiration in a lady like that. Paintings in art galleries and private collections proudly showed off such graceful repose.

Rarity half-laughed to herself and took another sip. The fizzy texture and fruity notes of the drink meandered across her tongue without much notice. A bit of a shame -the wine would've been pretty good in any other setting.

You see, Rarity was a woman of style and creation. She was a unicorn, and her magic helped her greatly, but it wasn't the true source of her success. No, her real magic was something less tangible but infinitely more precious. Hers was the magic of beauty. Everything, she believed, could be beautiful, for beauty was the natural state of the world.

So she took threads and spun them into gold. Literally. Many parties would offer enticing compensation to work her magic. Dances, grand balls, ceremonies, stately dinners and courtly congregations -that was her area of expertise and where her powers manifested most fully. She thrived on companionship and sociability. She only ever wanted to make people look lovely, and life was kind enough to grant her the opportunity.

Then why was she alone right now? The mare looked around the kitchen. She didn't lack for a social life -she had friends. Good friends. Excellent friends that she'd do anything for, and who would do anything for her. Well...almost anything.

An image tossed itself to center of her mind. Fluttershy. A good friend. A beautiful friend, even if she was too demure to admit as such. Long of leg, slim of waist, soft of voice. Oh, she had such a wondrous voice. Rarity rested her hoof on her chin and closed her eyes. She could hear the warm tones of her voice if she focused.

Rarity tried to kiss her once. Once. She recalled the day clearly. Recalled the tears in the poor girl's eyes, and how warm her lips were. She remembered how for one second everything was beautiful.

But for only one second. "I'm sorry," was all she said before skirting off in a yellow blur. Probably to hide in her cottage. The dear was never one to take emotional surges in good grace.

Another drink from the glass was taken. Rain pitter-pattered on the windows.

Things were fine between them, of course. There was no blame or further discussion to be had. She was not interested. Rarity was too much of lady to press the subject, or maybe she was a touch more humiliated by the reality of rejection than admittable. It wasn't something she had much experience with. Rarity was beautiful after all.

But attractiveness couldn't get her everything, it seemed. She was still alone in her kitchen. Alone in her house.

So imagine how fortunate it was that you chose that moment to knock on her door.

--

Not to imply that you were faring any better: in fact you were much worse off.

The Carousel Boutique was a tall, extravagant building -even at night during a storm. The lights within drew you like a warm flame inviting lost moths to come closer, and you were very lost. Lightning highlighted the arches, poles and metal cutouts of perpetually prancing horses as you stumbled nearer.

The sudden flash and bang of lightning made it look imposing, but you've been wandering in the cold and wet for hours. You had a nasty fall and hurt your left wrist pretty bad. You needed a roof over your head fast, if only to get your bearings. With a sloshing gait you went to the strange purple door with elaborate pink and white lattice work and trim board.

By rote your right hand came up to the air, but you held it for a moment. A wet stranger banging on the door in the middle of the night doesn't invite the warmest welcomes. Was this a good idea? You haven't made the best decisions lately.

No point in starting now, you suppose.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

You wrapped your arms around yourself , grateful at least for the wide awning that kept the rain off your head for the first time in hours.

No one came. "Come on," you mutter. "Come on, please, someone." The lights were on inside. But what if that was only for show? Then what? You'd have to trudge back through mud and lightning to find another house is what. Tough luck, buddy, get used to it. Hope nothing electric with a one billion volt rating falls from the sky and hits you. At this point it'd be a relief, wouldn't it?

You tell yourself to think positive, but the stinging pain inside your hand argued otherwise. You applied more pressure to shut it up. Something was heard moving inside. Maybe. "Anyone, please, anyone." However, you were not prepared for anyone to open the door. You especially weren't prepared for Rarity.

The door swung open and brought warm, fragrant air to butt against the cruel outside atmosphere. A woman's voice filled the empty space of the frame.

"The hours of business are clearly written beside the door, if you have a wardrobe emergency my after-hours rates are-" she stepped into view.

You stared down at a white horse topped off with a bouncy, purple mane. She stood around waist height. A rounded horn tipped her forehead. She looked up at you -a soggy, muddied, miserable two-legged thing with sunken, buggy eyes. A frown fell on her face before speaking.

"Hm. I suppose this classifies as some sort of emergency." Her blue eyes go up and down your body, picking and analyzing a thousand little details. "How awful..." she concluded. You blinked to assert yourself in the here-and-now. The muscle in your mouth snatched a bit of purchase.

"I'm...not..." you stammered. "...It's wet out here." She tilted her head to look behind you.

"Yes dear, because it's raining," she said.

You chewed your lip. Rapid taps from your fingers highlighted your injured hand. "My arm, there was a...a fall." She blinked in quick succession. The gears inside that animalistic head switched to another speed. "I don't know where I am," you state. It was the truth. You were utterly misplaced in more ways than one.

For a moment the small creature looked suspicious, and you don't blame her. You weren't sure what to think, but you knew what to hope for -a small bit of kindness and generosity.

Luckily Rarity had plenty of generosity to spare. The kindness would come later. She looked you over again with a less critical eye.

"What is your name?" she asked, soft as a breeze.

You told her your name. She nodded.

"Very well, dear. My name is Rarity. Come inside. It's warm," She stepped back from the door to allow you entry. "Do mind the mud on your hooves -er, feet, I suppose those are called."

You wiped your shoes on the doormat inside. She sprung an award-worthy grimace. "Those are -those have certainly seen some vigorous use. Just leave them on the mat. I'll clean the, ah, excess outdoors from them later." She circled you several times, unable to help her curiosity.

The to-and-fro swish of her tail made you nervous, but you'd take nervousness in here over hypothermia outside. "Do you mind if I ask what you are and why you can talk?" That was probably a dumb thing to say. She looked at you like it was and laughed

"Hmm-hm. Never seen a pony before, have you? Of course not, I can tell by the look of dazzled confusion on your face. We get your types breezing through here every so often and sometimes. Tell me, if you please, what ocean did you cross to get here?" She looked at you with great interest.

"What oce-" you had to think. "I didn't get here by boat if that's what you're asking. I live kinda close to the Pacific, though." She ran the word through her lexicon.

"Odd," she said. "Never heard of that ocean. Oh well, they have different names for everything everywhere you go. We live in a big world, after all. It's a bit of a chore to keep everything under their proper labels." She examined you again. "Still strange that you've never seen a pony before, or that I can't quite pin down what you are. Must be from somewhere very backwater indeed..." Her eyes widened. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. Oh dear." She tittered with a nervous bounce. "We're rather, ah," she searched for a palate-pleasing word, "quaint. Yes, quaint, around these parts as well. Some would say 'rural,' but...oh, it's all semantics anyhow."

The first talking pony you've ever met was a chatterbox. Later you could decide if that was funny or not. She almost made you forget about the pain in your hand or the chill threatening to take over your bones. Rarity caught onto the sharp edge of the moment.

"But we can discuss that later, yes? Let's take care of you first, dear." She thought for a moment and looked up and down her hallway. "Here, follow me. We need to get you pressed and dried first. No sense in you falling ill. I'd be a poor host." The lofty tones of her voice settled into a more serious groove as she trotted past. "Come, come. I'll run a hot bath and get you out of those clothes."

"Lady, I mean, Rarity was it?" She nodded. "Rarity. Thank-you." You fought to keep your voice even. Have you gone a little loopy between fumbling around in the wilderness and accepting aid from a horned pony in here?

She ushered you into a pristine bathroom. A four legged tub with golden feet stood on the far side of the room. Towels that looked to be knitted from high-floating clouds rested on pearly racks. Bottles of feminine products were everywhere and placed in exacting order. Any self-respecting keeper of five-star hotels would be hard-pressed to find a flaw.

You concluded that a bit of loopiness couldn't hurt.

"Don't mind the clutter dear, I keep telling myself I'll straighten up things one of these days." She caught her reflection in the mirror and touched her mane. "Hm. Yes, straightening would be good...." she sounded distracted, then shook her head. "Anyhow. Just leave your clothes outside the door, I'll take care of them. Don't be shy about taking longer than normal, I'll get a few things set up for you." She clapped a hoof on the tile. "Before I forget, you said something about your arm...?"

"Yeah, yeah." You raised your injured arm. In the light it looked red and clearly swollen. You tried to bend your fingers, but they didn't have much give. "Like I said, nasty fall."

Rarity examined the strange digits with equal curiosity and sympathy for something so clearly damaged. "That will need to be looked at immediately. Best thing is to keep it in hot water and let the swelling go down. We'll go from there. It looks extremely painful."

You stretched your arm out and turned your wrist, feeling the glass shards spike up and down the limb. "Nothing I can't power through," you grit and grin. "I've had worse, believe it or not."

She chuckled and shook her head. "Males. Always so adamant and macho, even if your head is about to fall off. You have spirit dear, I like that." She went towards the door. "But spirit is no substitute for proper first aid. I have some ointments and material for a splint, and know a few medicinal spells. But wash up first, and don't forget about the clothes."

Her voice sung out in a whirl that led to firmly shutting the door, leaving you alone in the washroom.

"Medicinal spells?" You blinked. The puddle forming around your feet brought you out of confusion. She was a conversant pony and possibly a hallucination, but she was right -you needed out of these clothes otherwise you'd run the risk of turning into a mud monster. Shivers were already playing with your knees and elbows. Hot water would be a godsend.

Quickly you stripped down, peeling off cold, muddied, and slimy clothes. Extra care was taken around your injured arm. Your shirt came off without much pain.

With a bundle of garments in hand, you edged the door open. You peeked up and down the hallway. Rarity wasn't there. You listened and heard movement coming from a room elsewhere. The clothes were left in a congealing pile on the floor.

The washtub was far nicer than any you've seen before. It wasn't particularly extravagant or decadent, but it was so clean. It seemed that dirtying it with outdoor detritus was against a serious law. But your hand was looking very swollen. You shook the thought away and tested the hot water. The heady steam and splash of clean water soon pushed any reluctance far, far away.

You plugged the tub and slid into the porcelain, and let the water rise up your legs, your waist, and chest. The warmth sunk into your muscles and vanquished the chill like magic. Your joints stopped shaking, and even your hand found the relief effective enough to restore some mobility.

You lowered your head under the water past your ears. Pleasant clouds muffled the world. Eyes blinked in a zen-like laziness. For the first time in a long while you didn't feel miserable. Cool air tickled your ears when you surfaced again. Your attention settled on the collection of bottles residing in the room. The labels of the many exotic containers were too foreign to allow easy comprehension. They had to be precious and expensive by whatever currency ponies used. Ripples spread out from the water as you chuckled.

Ponies. That's what Rarity called herself. She had a little horn on her head as well. So, she was a unicorn, you reasoned. And she used the word "spell." Unicorns were magical in fairy tales, weren't they? Any other day you'd never consider the possibility of magic outside of stage magicians and special effects in movies, but this wasn't any other day. Besides, if she indeed possesed power, that would explain why she wasn't afraid of you outside of exotic curiosity.

Even then, you didn't seem all that exotic to her. She said 'other types' such as you would be seen sometimes. Did she refer to other humans? Or was this place just far stranger than you could possibly imagine?

Where the hell -were- you anyhow? Worry in the back of your head replaced the coldness in your bones.

You thought for a long time but such answers couldn't be found in a bathtub, no matter how clean.

In due time you pooled enough will to leave the comfort of the warm water and dried yourself off. The towels felt just as heavenly as they looked.

There was a tap at the door.

"Finishing up in there?"

"Yeah, just about done," you reply

"Good. I managed to clean your clothes and dry them off. Fixed a few tears as well, but there may still be a few splits and frays, I hope that's alright."

Was she being serious? "No, that sounds perfect. Those clothes weren't that great to start with anyhow. You didn't have to go through the trouble."

"Nonsense, dear, complete nonsense. It was a joy," she pressed that 'my pleasure, my privilege' tone a little too hard. "I'll meet you in the kitchen, it's just down the hall and to the left, can't miss it." You heard her trot away.

God. There was no way anyone could think an animal was on the other side of that door talking with that voice. The mental images and reality clashed. A pony didn't crop up in your head, perhaps a black-haired bombshell with a tight skirt wrapped around a pair of legs that didn't quit. Automatically you could see her fingers and hands waving in the air while assuring you "It was a joy." A full smile spread out her smooth sloping nose.

These visual signals were caught by your maintenance crew downstairs who responded in kind. Surprised and very weirded out, you caught the whirr and pump of your complicated machinery. "Aw hell," you muttered.

You cleaned up extra well behind your ears because that was something you refused to deal with. The crew turned lazy with a lack of orders as you continued to dry yourself off better then you could ever remember.

For a second time you eased the door open and looked around. Nobody there but a pile of freshly pressed clothes. On they went, careful to mind your hand. And...and wow. Oh wow. You fingered the fresh and soft fabric of your shirt. It felt better than new. You would've settled for 'not-damp,' but this was above and beyond. Rarity had to be magic, because your jeans and tee never felt this amazing.

Meanwhile in the kitchen Rarity found no shortage of busy work. Her cat deigned to enter the kitchen, curiosity and annoyance stirred up by her housekeeper's activities. She purred and chattered at the mare.

"Good evening Opal, so pleased you could make an appearance." She brushed the cats nose with her tail. "Be on your best behavior now, sweetie. Momma has a guest." Magic pulled out a teapot and leaves. Blue light touched at plates and small cups, wedges of cheese, wheat bread and fresh vegetables that would please any palate.

The cat pawed overhead at a passing carrot. "And what an peculiar guest he is. Seems a touch confused, poor thing. In dire need of care and attention, but I'm rather good at both of those, don't you think?" She looked at Opal, who rolled over once and rowled. "What? Do you think I'm over doing it? He's a guest! I won't have it be said that Rarity treats the unfortunate and needful with half-gestures."

She put directed the spread onto the table. They glittered with the sweet-smelling after burn of her powers. "He's a new friend now, after all. And friends deserve the best, and I have only the best." She smiled to herself. "Rainy nights are always better with company anyhow, injured as they may be."

Her attention turned back to the tea pot. Magic filled it with hot water, a pleasing blend of tea leaves, and no small measure of her more intimate hopes and dreams.

She hoped you wouldn't find it too strong.

-

Following the occasional clatter and muffled humming down the wind of hallways, you entered the kitchen. The pony smiled grandly when you stepped into view.

"Feel better, dear?"

You patted your chest. "About a million dollars better. It's a bit scary -I feel like a guard is going to ask me for a receipt when I leave this place."

Her laughter was almost airy enough to float her off the ground. "I'll tell security to give you a pass, but I pray you won't leave too soon. I'm glad you're so pleased -the knit and layout of your clothes are quite different from what I'm accustomed too. I'm always eager to see tailor work of different species first hand," she turned her attention to the tea pot and prepared to pour a pair of drinks.

You meandered to the table, pulled by the layout of food and sweet breads. "I, uh, noticed you have a lot of sewing tools and dress materials in the front room I came in. I take it you work on clothes. A seamstress?"

She turned away from the teacups. "Ah, seamstress, pattern maker, clothing designer, wardrobe consultant extraordinaire with haute couture as my specialite'," she winked. "Not that I care to brag."

"So you're pretty good then."

"I like to think so," she came to the table, her horn glowing. Tea cups floated behind her. You stared wide-eyed. Yup. There it was. Magic. Rarity set a saucer and cup in front of you. Steam and glitter wafted from within. A little part of you suggested the use of trick wires or mirrors, but reality was not concerned with sleights of hand.

You blew at the liquid's surface and watched the swirl of steam and glimmer dance away. Indisputable magic.

"Are you alright, dear?"

"Huh? Yeah, yeah, just, um." You picked up the cup. "Tea! Tea -I, it's been a while since I've had a nice, real, hot cup of tea." You smiled, hoping she couldn't smell ignorance and 'backwater' sensibilities on display, at least not yet. Looking like a slack jawed yokel didn't have much appeal.

"Oh," she picked up your hesitation, but let it slide. "Freshly brewed." A cup levitated to her mouth and you heard the smallest sound of her taking a sip. You took a whiff of your own tea. The liquid itself looked innocuous, but it smelled potent, and made you light headed. You could almost hear the leaves still blowing in the wind and growing on their stems. Hear the rush of rivers that the water was once a part of. Sweet. Almost other worldly in sweetness. A color flashed in your mind. Purple. It smelled like purple. You shook your head and took a sip.

Up until that point you thought tea was a dull thing served in old-folks home and in bottles of Brisk. That was a lie brought about by a life poorly lived.. Tea was wonderful thing that should be enjoyed by everyone everywhere all of the time.

"Do you like it?" She asked, a little concerned.

You closed your eyes and smiled while biting your lips. You nodded. Words would not suffice.

Her curls shook as she breathed in sharply. "Where in heaven are my manners? Did you want any sugar or lemon with your tea?"

You shook your head quickly. "No," you took another sip. "It's perfect. Perfect." Sweet Christ on a bike this is amazing. You thought taking a bath made you feel better, but you felt like you could compete in gymnastics if you had two glasses of this stuff. Indisputable magic indeed. It bubbled in your stomach like a pleasant broth.

Rarity laughed almost nervously. Sometimes her excellency caught her by surprise. But oh he was an enthusiastic one, wasn't he? She was enjoying herself, perhaps too much. A lady doesn't like showing off, but that was one of her few decidedly unladylike behaviors.

Seeing your spirits raised quickly in so short a time filled her stomach with butterflies. Helping others always did, but this was...well. She was prepared to admit she needed this. She felt enlightened by warmth.

Occupied by the brew as you were, you noticed a minor relaxation of the mare across from you. It was like watching a wound up spring letting out its breath. Her wide, blue eyes took on an eased softness

She looked a bit pretty, doesn't she?

The thought was quick, but effective. You put down the empty cup and tapped on the table before grabbing a cookie. "So," you start "why do you love clothing so much?"

The question and answer should've been obvious for her, yet she took time to answer. Thoughtfulness worked down her brow and wrinkled her muzzle. "I..." her ear flicked, "I don't believe it's the clothing, necessarily. Rather what the clothing does, what it can do."

"And what is that?"

"Bring the best out in people. Young or old, stallion or mare, there's a fabric, color, and seam style that can do more than just," she waved her hoof in the air, "just make them look good. It contrasts and enhances their personalities. A good garment can bring someone's soul a little closer to the surface. Literally wearing their hearts on the sleeve. And nothing is more beautiful than seeing someone's heart. That's what people ask me to do. Make the world see how beautiful their hearts are."

She took a sip of tea. "Because that's what it's all about. Beauty. Inside and out." She smiled. "Beauty is more than my business. It's my passion." She looked towards the ground, a little embarrassed, but pleased at herself. The wine from earlier was making her chatty.

You were so impressed you forgot about your cookie. It held limply in your hand as you struggled to come up with a follow up. A query rolled down the assembly line, to your surprise.

"Then why aren't you wearing any clothes right now?"

"Because I'm a heartless monster."

The cookie fell from your hand.

"Just a joke, dear. A joke," her eyes sparkled. She was trickier than you'd first suspect. You laughed.

"Clothing in this particular town is reserved for more special occasions. As I said earlier, we're a rural little corner, I'd hate to come across as....uppity." She sounded a touch dejected. "But it makes getting ready in the mornings easier, I suppose."

She poured more tea and stirred it with a spoon. "But my heart isn't something I'd care to display all the live long day." She frowned, thinking she was edging around the topic of Personal Business.

"I'm finding that hard to believe in the face of all this hospitality." You chewed on a slice of cucumber, trying to take the edge off the tea. It had more kick to it than you thought. "You're a real life saver, I mean it."

"It's only what any decent pony would do, dear. Oh, speaking of, let me see your hand. If we're lucky it may just be bruised. As I said, I know a few medical spells, but if you need professional attention, I'll take you immediately."

You raised your hand in experimentation. The fingers were swollen and fleshy, but they moved. Rarity frowned. "I'm not too familiar with your, hmm...structure, but I can tell a fracture when I feel one. This doesn't seem to be the case..." Quizzical eyes raised down to her.

"I have a younger sister." She shrugged. "A bit of the adventurous type. A lady should be prepared for anything."

"Alright then," you conceded. Your arm held in mid air. Rarity placed her left hoof below the wrist. The tip of her right hoof traced slowly down your hand applying light pressure on your knuckles.

"Do you feel any sharp pains?"

She pressed down again. You grunted a little, but the pain was more of a general discomfort than springing from anything specific. The fur on her foreleg brushed against the tips of your knuckles as she checked your fingers. Slight, but they seemed to draw the cramp away.

Her white hoof was porcelain smooth. It glided across your injured skin, spreading warmth from the tips of your hairs and into your skin. Her touch tingled. Touch. Press. Turn your hand over please.

She ran her hoof in slow circles across your palms. Her gaze was focused like she was looking down at the lines and wrinkles of your hand at a microscopic level. Her lips moved quietly, then she nodded once, before pulling her hooves away. You almost wished she didn't.

"Good news. I don't think anything is broken. All the same, I want to put some cream on it. It'll help the pain, and it's good for your muscles." She must've seen the look of hesitation on your face. "Don't worry, it's rated for all species. All natural ingredients."

The mare hopped away from the table and nosed around in a pantry filled with more exotic yet somehow perfunctory bottles. She chose a short round container and brought it you. "Here we are. This always does the trick."

Her magic unscrewed the lid. Inside the pink ointment was shiny and jiggled gently as a dollop was pulled out and placed on the palm of your hand. "We won't have to use much," she explained. "It's very potent. As it should be, they charge a hoof and a haunch for it."

Your hand glowed as the cream spread on the tops of your digits and around your palm. Rarity put her hoof back to your hand, massaging the ointment into places that the magic missed.

She didn't ask if you'd rather put the cream on yourself, but you really didn't mind touching her hoof again. To be honest, she didn't mind either.

You both needed this.

The cream and magic seeped deep into your skin, relieving the pain and so much more. She let you go and smiled. "Feel better?" Her voice was light.

Your fingers wiggled more freely than they had all night. You flexed your wrist in circles. "The results speak for itself. You'll have to tell me where you got that stuff. It's a godsend."

"Gladly, dear." She replaced the lid and carried the container back to its shelf. You watched her bouncy tail swing left and white over white, shapely legs.

Oh for cripe's sake. You hoped Florence Nightingale syndrome couldn't set in that fast. It could be worse. But she was a pony. But she saved your ass from dying out in the rain in the middle of the night.

Your rubbed at a sudden itch in your eyes. Dust must've got in there.

Something rumbled in the pit of your stomach too. Damn. That tea meant business. You grimaced. But you'd rather contend with itchy eyes and upset tummies than wet, damp, and freezing.

Rarity approached the table again. There was a pause in her step when she looked at you.

"Something up?" you asked.

"No...it's just..." Her mouth opened in silence before the words came out. "Your eyes..." her voice trailed before finding itself again. "They look very lovely."

They also felt very irritated. You blinked in rapid succession. "Uh, I think I have something in them, actually, I need to wash them out."

"Of course, use the sink, by all means," she sounded nearly hypnotized.

You got up, wincing. Invisible fairies were pricking your eyes with needles. Your hands tugged at the faucet and water fell from the spout. You were loathe to get your face wet after going through so much effort to get dry, but necessity called.

After several long moments of splashing the pain subsided. Your eyeballs throbbed instead of jerking from tiny pin pokes. You turned around and bumped into Rarity. She stared straight upwards into your eyes, unblinking and brilliant in how blue they were. Her lips were parted just so. A bundle of looping purple hair fell down her forehead.

"I...I....could you do me a favor?" She sounded almost timid. You blinked slowly.

"Like, uh, what?'

"Would you mind kneeling down for me? I'd like to see something." Rarity's face looked dazed, she was staring through a mist. You felt a little weirded out, but she's done nothing but help you so far...

"Alright," You lower yourself to your knees, level with Rarity's head. She sneaks a step nearer to you. Her eyes slide around your face and settle on your eyes. You could almost see your reflection bouncing off her pupils -shining things like they were carved from a marble of ocean water...

"Rarity?" You whisper. She remains silent and only continues to examine you -no. She wasn't examining you, she was gazing at you like a painter does at a piece of art. Your cheeks turn red and you avert your gaze.

But you're pulled back like a balloon to the sky, and her face is the sun. A hoof brushed the curls from her forehead. The shine and streak of her eyes seemed to ripple and splash like water.

Did you really think she looked like an animal? No. No. She was....she was pretty. Her fur ran in a fine grain, swirling like white wheat across her muzzle and down her neck.. Waterfalls of full purple curls fell down the side of her head. The fine line of her lips curved upwards into quiet dimples. She was more than pretty. She was beautiful.

You felt her breath across your nose. It was warm.

"You have...the most lovely eyes I've ever seen," she whispered.

"Never...thought they were anything special," you admitted, but distractedly so. Could Nightingale syndrome go both ways? This had to be a speed record. You were prepared to break your hand a hundred times over if this was the result.

You ran your hand through your hair. The follicles itched.

Rarity raised a hoof and inched across the small gap between you and her with hesitation. She touched your cheek.

"Just exquisite," she muttered. "Reminds me of a friend." The dainty hoof ran across your brow. "Teal."

Teal? That color was close to green, right? But your eyes weren't-

She swung onto her hind legs and put her other hoof on your face. Up your cheeks they went, across your ears....she stroked your hair. It felt wonderful...it seemed to relieve the irritation that was springing up on your scalp.

In response you put your good hand under her chin. The fur there was just as soft as you would think. More soft, even. The tips of your fingers slid under her mouth and down the side of her neck. Her mouth opened by degrees from your descending trace.

There's an explanation for this, said a voice hanging off to the side of your mind. First contact, right? Two members of different species and genders trying to learn more about each other for the sake of understanding and camaraderie. Right? Any similarities to intimacy is just...a coincidence.

Right?

Because why would a creature as lovely as this want to get intimate with you?

She continued to brush and stroke along hair. Strange. Your hair wasn't really long enough to be brushed.

A strawberry blonde lock from the top of your head fell into your vision.

Strawberry blonde was not your hair color.

"Oh my..." husked Rarity, in a clear level of rapture.

"Oh shit," you spat, tripping into a clear level of freaking out.

You sprung to your feet, knocking Rarity to her side, yelping as she was yanked from her glazed indulgence.

"Shit, shit." You tugged at the hair and ran your hand through your head. Your hair was longer, softer. You felt it bounce against your neck as you turned your head. A Mirror. "I need a mirror." Your feet slipped and dragged on the floor to get to the bathroom.

You doubled over in the hallway because your stomach screamed at you. You drank that tea too fast. Cookies and cucumbers were not good for you that late at night. At least that's what you told yourself.

You hurled and twisted into the washroom, skidding in front of the mirror to get a look at yourself.

Teal. Whatever your eyes were before, they're teal now. You blinked in disbelief. They seemed bigger too. Pupils widened to let in all the light they could. The better to see yourself. Your hair likewise was caught with streaks of strawberry blonde and kept growing longer. For a mad moment you thought you could hear the strands extend past your eyebrows.

You pulled them away, tried to pull it out. Tugging on a handful of hair hurt like it always had. Your fingers dug into your scalp, trying to rub out the invading color, but it was a vain effort. The vibrant color slid over and through your old one. Soon your entire head was covered in long streaks of creamy reds.

"Nuh-uh. No. No," you said. Rarity called for you from the other room. You closed your eyes, counted to three and opened them. Still red. Still teal.

Your stomach shuddered hard enough that you fell to the floor, almost hitting your head on the sink. Rarity appeared in the doorway.

"Sweet Celestia," she gasped. "What is happening?" You were hunched over on the ground, your hands covering your face. She was frightened, unsure of what came over her, and completely at a loss as to what was happening to you.

She ran to your side and patted your back as you hacked and cough. "Hell," you coughed. "What the hell is-" then the burning started. It was like someone dunked your head in kerosene and threw a match onto your face. It went past the skin, through the muscle, and dove into the bone.

You pulled yourself to the tub and turned the water on while in your frenzy with a panicking Rarity circling. Cold water flushed your face, helping little.

Then it ended. The match and all its fires were pulled back and snuffed out with a flick of breath.

You withdrew from the water and shuddered on the floor, eyes closed tight as tears squeezed through them.

Rarity gasped.

"What is...what is..." you wheezed.

"You look beautiful," she said.

Has she lost her mind? You opened your eyes and were confused by a block in your vision. Fur and muscles twitched where your nose should be. It twitched and tingled when you touched it. Dear hell, you thought. Back to the mirror.

You said a very loud curse word. The head of a very wet, very scared pony was staring at you in the mirror. Its eyes were large, its hair was long and full. Its muzzle was long and narrow. "Can't be," it said with your voice. "I'm losing it," its jaws and long tongue moved up and down. Beads of water dripped from the creamy fur that caressed its neck and shoulders.