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Lost Cause · FiM Minific ·
Organised by RogerDodger
Word limit 400–750
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The rainy Canterlot night was illuminated in the dull orange of thick nighttime clouds mingled with the yellow of street lamps. Rarity took in the view, leaning on the railing of her tiny balcony. Miniscule as it was, it was a valued luxury, one of the few afforded by the cramped apartment above her boutique’s Canterlot branch.

In truth, she hated it here in this city. Oh, it was a truth she would never admit to other ponies, but a truth she felt down to her very bones.

It was the loneliness.

That was the price, and here, in the most sophisticated of cities, it was somehow the keenest. She should be at a party. No, not in the sense of right now. It wasn’t that she had been snubbed an invitiation to some specific soirée. Just, a party, some party somewhere, in the hypothetical sense. She should be sipping champaigne, charming and being charmed by polite company.

But she was alone, on her balcony, looking down aloofly at the city, feeling intensely separate from it even in its midst.

There was just too much work. Even this break for a quiet moment of fresh air could only last a few minutes, then she’d have to get right back to the grind. Dresses to sew. Obligations to meet. They waited for nopony.

Still, in the little time she had, her thoughts drifted to the aftermath of the last party, back at home in Ponyville.

Applejack and Rainbow Dash faced Rarity, both looking a little sheepish, the three of them alone in the Carousel Boutique.

“I feel as if my cause for irritation is somewhat lost on the two of you.” Rarity scowled.

“Nah, Rarity, I get it,” Applejack replied, pulling her hat off her head and holding it against her chest. “I admit, I shouldn’ta had that hard cider, and I guess it didn’t help me in thinkin’ ‘bout, uh. Y’know. About bein’ appropriate and all. I’m sorry, Rare.”

“I’m sorry too, Rarity,” Rainbow Dash added. Then she added, mumbling barely audibly: “Although I’m still pretty sure nopony even knew we were in that closet.”

Everypony knew, and they knew exactly what you two were doing!” Rarity growled. “The noises you were making… how could they not?”

“Oh come on.” Rainbow rolled her eyes. “Was it really a big deal? I don’t think anypony even complained.”

“I was mortified!” Rarity snapped. “I don’t throw those kinds of parties, you know very well.”

“What?” Rainbow suddenly grinned. “You jealous about us not having you join in?”

“Oh, as IF!!” Rarity seethed, grinding her teeth and glaring daggers.

“I’m just sayin’, it woulda been hot,” Rainbow pushed her luck. “You know. Earth pony, pegasus, and unicorn, all at the same time together. It’s a… whatchamacallit…”

“Neighapolitan,” Rarity said, her voice quick with irritation. “The act you’re referring to is called a neighapolitan. After the ice cream with three different flavors. But that’s—”

“How do you know what it’s called?” Applejack broke in, raising one eyebrow.

“That’s NOT the point!” Rarity raised her voice in exasperation. “Not even remotely!”

Rarity breathed deep and sighed, returning to reality on her tiny balcony. Breaktime, the few moments of it she could spare, was over.

Still, as she retreated back inside, her thoughts involuntarily clung to the thing Rainbow had referred to.

A neighapolitian.

They weren’t judgmental thoughts. Nothing seemed perverse to her about the act itself, not particularly.

What felt perverse was that at home in Ponyville, surrounded by her real friends, the only ones in the world she could have ever trusted with something like that, it was nothing more than a crude fantasy from a dirty magazine, a thought to reject out of hoof.

She proceeded through her apartment and down the stairs, to the shop below, where fabric was waiting for her. Measure. Mark. Cut. Sew. Her art called.

But here, where she felt so alone, where it was utterly unattainable… she realized, in some deep down part of her mind, she might have actually been sorely tempted to take part, if offered.

It felt so strange to think such thoughts, to admit such things.

But yes. As she sat at her machine, she yielded and owned up to it. She’d be interested, here, only here, where she couldn’t have it.

She’d even make it involve a whole jar of maraschino cherries, she decided capriciously.

She giggled quietly to herself at that, and then, sighingly, reluctantly, got back to work.
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#1 · 5
Oh, Rarity. Your education is without peer, we just won't ask where you learned that.

Best story of the writeoff, bar none.
#2 · 2
I just don't understand the issue with Applejack and Rainbow Dash sharing ice cream in the closet.

Was it an intervention for an overweight friend? Was it a pizza party for Sweetie Belle, where adults were discouraged from causing too much disruption? Was the ice cream of a special vintage, to be saved for the occasion of Rarity's first born child?

Perhaps during a muggy night in the city one might be agonized by the memory of a damned cold treat--but AJ and RD can hardly be blamed for that, whatever the circumstance might have been.

This is a kind of cautionary tale against traveling to Italy, in my view. Stay away if you don't want your taste in artisanal food products get in the way of friendly interactions with your cider-guzzling townie friends.

Excellent word count.