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The Butterfly
Rarity liked to think it was the small things that mattered in life.
A curt nod to Time Turner as they trotted past each other, and Rarity smiled as he brightened, waving back—“Good evening, Miss Rarity!” A brief conversation with Lyra, on the way to Carousel Boutique, and Rarity presented her with a magically-imbued gem, trained to detect if musical instruments were off-key. Lyra gasped, embraced Rarity; Rarity pushed her away kindly. “Think nothing of it, dear, it’s the season after all.”
Even though the weather was miserable around Hearth’s Warming, the ponies seemed much brighter than usual. Bells jingled in the streets, carolers sang their carefree songs, and children romped in the powdered snow. Sometimes, Rarity wondered if Hearth’s Warming was a made up holiday, solely to distract ponies from other pressing issues during the winter.
But no matter. Ponies were happy, and Rarity was happy when other ponies were happy. After all, it was the small things that mattered in life.
There wasn’t much else Rarity could change, was there?
Rarity fell asleep that night staring at her cutie mark, the triple diamonds that represented her life’s work. Ponies had often asked her, what does it mean? Surely the diamonds represented the gems she embedded in her dresses, right? Or her sense of fashion and high class?
She had said no, they represented her ability to find hidden inner beauty. It made her proud to be generous, proud to always find something to offer to everypony this time of year. Sometimes, the ponies she gave that answer to laughed; they wouldn’t believe her.
That was okay with Rarity. She’d find them something they’d appreciate, because it would make them happy.
It was then, that night, that the monster came.
It crept through the windows, blackness wafting like smoke through the sharp air, crystals forming on the chiming chandelier. A smell of molten ash, and chemical residue. It collected in a pool at the center of the room, next to the bed where Rarity slept, and observed her chest rising up and down. Then, it snuffed the one candle flickering on the opposite side of the room, and when the candle went dark, hugged Rarity in an airy embrace.
When Rarity woke up, she was falling.
She yelped, and began screaming as her velocity picked up. Limbs wildly flailing in every direction—crying for somepony, anypony!—she forced her body to twist, first observing the orange-brown cliffside beside her, then the bottomless chasm that seemed to spread below her. As the wind whistled past her, she began to cry, tears smashing into her face, and panic set in as her chest tightened, her breaths became wheezes, and her stomach turned. She didn’t know whether to hope there was a bottom, so that her suffering would end, or that there was not—perhaps she still had a chance.
Rarity fell for what seemed like hours, holding onto her sanity for dear life as the feeling of being dragged downwards at a relentless pace carried on. Eventually, her throat grew sore, and she could no longer scream. Eventually, her tears dried up, and her limbs grew tired of waving, and she could no longer move. So she gave up, letting her body go limp like a discarded ragdoll as it plummeted.
This must be what the pegasi feel like, Rarity pondered, when they learn how to freefall. Only the pegasi had wings, and something soft to catch them. Parents to save them if something went wrong, and bandages to heal the bruises. Rarity had no such luxury. She questioned how she had ended up besides the cliff, traversing a vertical distance longer than Equestria was wide. Maybe this was Tartarus. Had Rarity been a good pony? She wondered what Sweetie Belle was doing, now.
And after a day or so of falling, Rarity fell asleep.
She woke to a soft tinkling in her ears, the sound of chimes dancing in the breeze. Eyes still shut, she sighed and flipped herself over in the air, imagining that the wind hitting her face was a pillow. It had taken her, Rarity observed, quite a short time to become accommodated to the falling.
And when she opened her eyes, she found the source of the sound. A dancing shadow, playfully drifting besides her, dancing in circles and loop-de-loops. Although it had the same speed as Rarity, it hardly looked like it was falling.
The shadow noticed that Rarity had woken, and paused. She watched as it vibrated, as if concentrating, before willing itself into a loose sphere. Out of the sphere, a hoof extended towards Rarity. Its voice was high-pitched, feminine, echoing off invisible walls. “Would you like to be saved?”
Rarity felt an odd sense grip her that felt something like nostalgia. She turned her head wordlessly towards the cliff face, then towards the bottomless chasm. Then, back at the hoof that was offered to her. It had been awfully peaceful for a while, but Rarity wanted to see Sweetie Belle again. She slowly extended her own hoof, and grabbed onto the one offered. “Let’s go,” she whispered.
The shadow rotated upwards and downwards, as if nodding. “Let’s.”
Then, with a strength that Rarity had never felt before, it yanked on her, hard. Before she could cry out, she felt something in her gut, something in between agonizing pain and boundless emptiness. Squirming in discomfort, she squeezed her eyes shut, and in that moment, for some reason, Rarity felt as if she was not quite the same pony.
When she opened her eyes again, she was in space. Numbly, she touched an ethereal hoof to her chest and rubbed it slowly, disbelievingly. Before her, the cosmos spanned in every direction, polychromatic stars and galaxies winking in the distance. She patted her chest a little harder, and found that she neither remembered how to nor needed to breathe.
The shadow whizzed around her like a miniature comet, and despite the lack of atmosphere, Rarity could hear its signature staticky wisp, the trademark presence of magic.
“Am I dead?” she whispered. “What are you?”
“Oh! That’s simple,” responded the shadow. “I’m a lot of things. But most relevant, perhaps…” The shadow paused, then began to expand into the shape of a creature—no, a pony. Rarity’s heart skipped a beat as it manifested dark violet fur, lavender hair with streaks of brilliant white, and eyes purer than sapphires.
When it spoke again, its voice was much deeper, much more commanding. “I’m you, darling.”
“The Nightmare,” Rarity hissed, flinging herself backwards into a defensive stance. “What have you done.”
Nightmare Rarity looked down on Rarity with an unimpressed look and blinked once. “I’ve merely shown you a portion of my world, dear. Have I done something wrong?”
Rarity responded by firing a pinpoint cyan beam towards her. She scoffed as the Nightmare stayed put, the magic shot piercing through it without harm. Growling, she prepared another blast, then flinched as the Nightmare dispelled it with a single wave of its hoof.
“Let’s not get hasty, shall we?” It took a step towards Rarity, allowing a small smile as Rarity further retreated. “Wouldn’t you like to know where you are?” And before Rarity had a chance to respond, it darted towards her, appearing in front of her in a split second. Then, it raised a hoof. “Boop.”
First, Rarity saw blinding white. As she blinked rapidly, she gasped. In the distance, her soulless body continued to fall down the cliffside.
Then, a voice enveloped her, vibrating from every direction. “Let’s take a closer look, shall we? And don’t struggle, struggling won’t do you any good.” Rarity felt herself being blown, pulled towards her body, towards the cliff.
Eventually, she found herself just out of reach of her body, next to the cliff face again, although she couldn’t feel the sense of falling anymore. The Nightmare’s voice continued. “Did you ever happen to observe the cliff carefully, Rarity?”
Wordlessly, Rarity shook her head.
“No? Give it a try, dear. I’d like for you to describe what you see.”
Reluctantly, Rarity hovered closer, and squinted. At first, again, she could only make out the dull orange-brown rocks, dusty and only slightly smoothed. Then, crevices, cracks where the ground gave way to darkened holes. Then…
“Ponies,” she murmured. “I see ponies.” There they were, in the hundreds of thousands, tiny dots milling amidst the landscape.
Then, she saw Sweetie Belle.
As Rarity fell, Sweetie Belle’s life played out like a flip book, flickering from one moment to the next. Rarity watched as she grew older, started a family, made new friends.
Then Rarity blinked, and Sweetie Belle was gone. As she stared, dumbfounded, at the cliff, playing that moment over and over in her mind, she barely protested as the Nightmare began reeling her away.
When she came to her senses, she was back in the cosmos. Across from her, the Nightmare sat, humming idly and playing with her hooves. Rarity watched it silently as she took slow, deep breaths. Eventually, she said, “I was falling through… through—”
“—Time,” finished the Nightmare. “And time takes a very, very long time to end.” In a softer tone, it added, “Welcome, again. To my world.”
Rarity closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. She could hear the tinkling again, emanating not just from the Nightmare. The songs of stars resonated in her mind and chest. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. But she opened her eyes, and her gaze hardened. “Take me home. There are ponies waiting for me.”
The Nightmare tsked, frowning before getting up and walking towards Rarity. “My dear, can’t you see what I’m showing you? I’m offering you the easy way out.”
“Take me back, Nightmare.” Rarity gulped heavily but stared straight forward unflinchingly.
The Nightmare began to laugh. Slowly at first, then rising in pace and volume, like a tidal wave. Rarity tried to ignore how melodic it was, its deep, full sound echoing in space. “Don’t you see how little it means? How little you mean? I’m offering you a pact, Rarity. We’ll become one together, again, and I’ll offer you so much more. Eternal life, Rarity. We’ll explore the stars and watch the empires rise and fall.” It observed Rarity, and frowned. She was smiling.
As the Nightmare narrowed its eyes, Rarity raised a hoof to her face, frog pointed upwards, and blew. “The butterfly,” she said.
The Nightmare cocked its head to the left. “I’m sorry?”
Rarity shut her eyes and recited, “‘The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.’ Haven’t you heard of that one?” When no response came, she continued. “Fluttershy’s taught me that the average butterfly lives for about a year. How thankful we ponies must be in comparison. And yet…” She swept a hoof in an arc across the sky. “How great an effect a single creature can have. Why, I can’t imagine where I’d be without them, much less dear Fluttershy. Pollinating the flowers, making the ponies smile—something to give, always giving.”
Softly, she brought the hoof to her chest, and sighed. “That’s what I’d like to be, you know. It’s why I’m proud to live the life I do. It’s the little things that go a long way.” She opened her eyes, and the Nightmare stepped back, hesitant to meet their crystal blue.
But then it snarled, and leapt forward. “Then, my little pony, what is the strength of a mere butterfly to a gale?” Its horn lit up, and the world went white.
Rarity was falling again, falling. With a howl, she realized that it was faster than before. The wind came buffeting at her now, screeching, chipping the rocks on the cliffside. The cliffside. Rarity watched in horror as the Nightmare’s voice boomed in her ears, and she rattled, whether from fear or the cold. “So, dear Rarity. Let me tell you a story. About you.”
As the wind screeched, the stars began to sing again, instead moaning out dreary, dissonant dirges, their voices unidentifiable, pleading. As the sky grew dark, thunder rumbled above, and Rarity found herself looking at… herself. On the cliffside, Rarity was running. As the gales twisted and turned, the scene shifted. Always, Rarity was running. Away from her job, away from Ponyville, away from her friends, away from Sweetie Belle.
“You’re the butterfly, aren’t you?” the Nightmare cackled. “Flap your wings. FLAP! See how little your little things carry you in the face of a storm.” And then Rarity felt so, so small, and tossing and turning in the wind, she began to flail again, hooves uncontrollably writhing at random. She watched in horror as she began to wither away, skin wrinkling, lips peeling, dwelling in the darkness.
Then Rarity blinked again, and she, too, was gone. Another blink and she was back with the stars sorrowing a sad elegy for her, and she was huddled in a ball, shivering and sobbing.
When her tears dried up again, she peeked out from behind her trembling hooves and saw the Nightmare besides her, a victorious smirk on its face, stretching out a hoof. “Let not this be your fate,” it said. “Join me.”
Rarity weakly pushed the hoof away. She whimpered, “You’re wrong. I… I matter. And what I do matters to the ponies I care about.” She cringed at her own statement, but pressed on. “And, and… no matter what you do, I’ll keep flapping. I’ll win. I’ll show you that it’s the little things that go a long way, not your gales.”
The Nightmare chuckled. “Oho? Very well.”
Rarity did a double take. “What?”
“I’m saying you win, Rarity,” it said. “I like it when my hosts are willing, after all. Well, no matter. I’ll be waiting when you pay another visit.”
Rarity tried to protest. “Wait, wh—”
“Ta-ta!” the Nightmare exclaimed, lighting its horn. And then Rarity was falling next to the cliffside again, inside her body, and she looked down and screamed, because for the first time, she saw the ground. And just as she was about to hit it, she felt herself being yanked, pulled towards the cliffside, and as she braced herself for impact she touched the cliff and it sucked her in, and then she was gone.
Rarity woke with a start, jolting out of bed fully awake. Audibly gasping for air, she clutched the bedpost, eyes wide open, sweat dripping as she watched the smoke recede from her room, out of Carousel Boutique. Scanning the area, she observed, thankfully, that nothing seemed to be out of place.
“The little things,” she murmured, “the little things, the little things, the little things.”
She concentrated, and her horn lit up. She focused her magic towards the extinguished candles and they came back to life, dancing in the nighttime breeze.
She needed to warn Twilight that the Nightmare was back. Twilight would know what to do, what to say, right? But first, a cursory peek, just to check if Sweetie Belle was okay.
Stumbling down the hallway, candle in her magic, Rarity haggardly opened the door to Sweetie’s empty room.
The crows nesting on Carousel Boutique cawed, flapping away as she screamed.
A curt nod to Time Turner as they trotted past each other, and Rarity smiled as he brightened, waving back—“Good evening, Miss Rarity!” A brief conversation with Lyra, on the way to Carousel Boutique, and Rarity presented her with a magically-imbued gem, trained to detect if musical instruments were off-key. Lyra gasped, embraced Rarity; Rarity pushed her away kindly. “Think nothing of it, dear, it’s the season after all.”
Even though the weather was miserable around Hearth’s Warming, the ponies seemed much brighter than usual. Bells jingled in the streets, carolers sang their carefree songs, and children romped in the powdered snow. Sometimes, Rarity wondered if Hearth’s Warming was a made up holiday, solely to distract ponies from other pressing issues during the winter.
But no matter. Ponies were happy, and Rarity was happy when other ponies were happy. After all, it was the small things that mattered in life.
There wasn’t much else Rarity could change, was there?
Rarity fell asleep that night staring at her cutie mark, the triple diamonds that represented her life’s work. Ponies had often asked her, what does it mean? Surely the diamonds represented the gems she embedded in her dresses, right? Or her sense of fashion and high class?
She had said no, they represented her ability to find hidden inner beauty. It made her proud to be generous, proud to always find something to offer to everypony this time of year. Sometimes, the ponies she gave that answer to laughed; they wouldn’t believe her.
That was okay with Rarity. She’d find them something they’d appreciate, because it would make them happy.
It was then, that night, that the monster came.
It crept through the windows, blackness wafting like smoke through the sharp air, crystals forming on the chiming chandelier. A smell of molten ash, and chemical residue. It collected in a pool at the center of the room, next to the bed where Rarity slept, and observed her chest rising up and down. Then, it snuffed the one candle flickering on the opposite side of the room, and when the candle went dark, hugged Rarity in an airy embrace.
When Rarity woke up, she was falling.
She yelped, and began screaming as her velocity picked up. Limbs wildly flailing in every direction—crying for somepony, anypony!—she forced her body to twist, first observing the orange-brown cliffside beside her, then the bottomless chasm that seemed to spread below her. As the wind whistled past her, she began to cry, tears smashing into her face, and panic set in as her chest tightened, her breaths became wheezes, and her stomach turned. She didn’t know whether to hope there was a bottom, so that her suffering would end, or that there was not—perhaps she still had a chance.
Rarity fell for what seemed like hours, holding onto her sanity for dear life as the feeling of being dragged downwards at a relentless pace carried on. Eventually, her throat grew sore, and she could no longer scream. Eventually, her tears dried up, and her limbs grew tired of waving, and she could no longer move. So she gave up, letting her body go limp like a discarded ragdoll as it plummeted.
This must be what the pegasi feel like, Rarity pondered, when they learn how to freefall. Only the pegasi had wings, and something soft to catch them. Parents to save them if something went wrong, and bandages to heal the bruises. Rarity had no such luxury. She questioned how she had ended up besides the cliff, traversing a vertical distance longer than Equestria was wide. Maybe this was Tartarus. Had Rarity been a good pony? She wondered what Sweetie Belle was doing, now.
And after a day or so of falling, Rarity fell asleep.
She woke to a soft tinkling in her ears, the sound of chimes dancing in the breeze. Eyes still shut, she sighed and flipped herself over in the air, imagining that the wind hitting her face was a pillow. It had taken her, Rarity observed, quite a short time to become accommodated to the falling.
And when she opened her eyes, she found the source of the sound. A dancing shadow, playfully drifting besides her, dancing in circles and loop-de-loops. Although it had the same speed as Rarity, it hardly looked like it was falling.
The shadow noticed that Rarity had woken, and paused. She watched as it vibrated, as if concentrating, before willing itself into a loose sphere. Out of the sphere, a hoof extended towards Rarity. Its voice was high-pitched, feminine, echoing off invisible walls. “Would you like to be saved?”
Rarity felt an odd sense grip her that felt something like nostalgia. She turned her head wordlessly towards the cliff face, then towards the bottomless chasm. Then, back at the hoof that was offered to her. It had been awfully peaceful for a while, but Rarity wanted to see Sweetie Belle again. She slowly extended her own hoof, and grabbed onto the one offered. “Let’s go,” she whispered.
The shadow rotated upwards and downwards, as if nodding. “Let’s.”
Then, with a strength that Rarity had never felt before, it yanked on her, hard. Before she could cry out, she felt something in her gut, something in between agonizing pain and boundless emptiness. Squirming in discomfort, she squeezed her eyes shut, and in that moment, for some reason, Rarity felt as if she was not quite the same pony.
When she opened her eyes again, she was in space. Numbly, she touched an ethereal hoof to her chest and rubbed it slowly, disbelievingly. Before her, the cosmos spanned in every direction, polychromatic stars and galaxies winking in the distance. She patted her chest a little harder, and found that she neither remembered how to nor needed to breathe.
The shadow whizzed around her like a miniature comet, and despite the lack of atmosphere, Rarity could hear its signature staticky wisp, the trademark presence of magic.
“Am I dead?” she whispered. “What are you?”
“Oh! That’s simple,” responded the shadow. “I’m a lot of things. But most relevant, perhaps…” The shadow paused, then began to expand into the shape of a creature—no, a pony. Rarity’s heart skipped a beat as it manifested dark violet fur, lavender hair with streaks of brilliant white, and eyes purer than sapphires.
When it spoke again, its voice was much deeper, much more commanding. “I’m you, darling.”
“The Nightmare,” Rarity hissed, flinging herself backwards into a defensive stance. “What have you done.”
Nightmare Rarity looked down on Rarity with an unimpressed look and blinked once. “I’ve merely shown you a portion of my world, dear. Have I done something wrong?”
Rarity responded by firing a pinpoint cyan beam towards her. She scoffed as the Nightmare stayed put, the magic shot piercing through it without harm. Growling, she prepared another blast, then flinched as the Nightmare dispelled it with a single wave of its hoof.
“Let’s not get hasty, shall we?” It took a step towards Rarity, allowing a small smile as Rarity further retreated. “Wouldn’t you like to know where you are?” And before Rarity had a chance to respond, it darted towards her, appearing in front of her in a split second. Then, it raised a hoof. “Boop.”
First, Rarity saw blinding white. As she blinked rapidly, she gasped. In the distance, her soulless body continued to fall down the cliffside.
Then, a voice enveloped her, vibrating from every direction. “Let’s take a closer look, shall we? And don’t struggle, struggling won’t do you any good.” Rarity felt herself being blown, pulled towards her body, towards the cliff.
Eventually, she found herself just out of reach of her body, next to the cliff face again, although she couldn’t feel the sense of falling anymore. The Nightmare’s voice continued. “Did you ever happen to observe the cliff carefully, Rarity?”
Wordlessly, Rarity shook her head.
“No? Give it a try, dear. I’d like for you to describe what you see.”
Reluctantly, Rarity hovered closer, and squinted. At first, again, she could only make out the dull orange-brown rocks, dusty and only slightly smoothed. Then, crevices, cracks where the ground gave way to darkened holes. Then…
“Ponies,” she murmured. “I see ponies.” There they were, in the hundreds of thousands, tiny dots milling amidst the landscape.
Then, she saw Sweetie Belle.
As Rarity fell, Sweetie Belle’s life played out like a flip book, flickering from one moment to the next. Rarity watched as she grew older, started a family, made new friends.
Then Rarity blinked, and Sweetie Belle was gone. As she stared, dumbfounded, at the cliff, playing that moment over and over in her mind, she barely protested as the Nightmare began reeling her away.
When she came to her senses, she was back in the cosmos. Across from her, the Nightmare sat, humming idly and playing with her hooves. Rarity watched it silently as she took slow, deep breaths. Eventually, she said, “I was falling through… through—”
“—Time,” finished the Nightmare. “And time takes a very, very long time to end.” In a softer tone, it added, “Welcome, again. To my world.”
Rarity closed her eyes and took a deep breath in. She could hear the tinkling again, emanating not just from the Nightmare. The songs of stars resonated in her mind and chest. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered. But she opened her eyes, and her gaze hardened. “Take me home. There are ponies waiting for me.”
The Nightmare tsked, frowning before getting up and walking towards Rarity. “My dear, can’t you see what I’m showing you? I’m offering you the easy way out.”
“Take me back, Nightmare.” Rarity gulped heavily but stared straight forward unflinchingly.
The Nightmare began to laugh. Slowly at first, then rising in pace and volume, like a tidal wave. Rarity tried to ignore how melodic it was, its deep, full sound echoing in space. “Don’t you see how little it means? How little you mean? I’m offering you a pact, Rarity. We’ll become one together, again, and I’ll offer you so much more. Eternal life, Rarity. We’ll explore the stars and watch the empires rise and fall.” It observed Rarity, and frowned. She was smiling.
As the Nightmare narrowed its eyes, Rarity raised a hoof to her face, frog pointed upwards, and blew. “The butterfly,” she said.
The Nightmare cocked its head to the left. “I’m sorry?”
Rarity shut her eyes and recited, “‘The butterfly counts not months but moments, and has time enough.’ Haven’t you heard of that one?” When no response came, she continued. “Fluttershy’s taught me that the average butterfly lives for about a year. How thankful we ponies must be in comparison. And yet…” She swept a hoof in an arc across the sky. “How great an effect a single creature can have. Why, I can’t imagine where I’d be without them, much less dear Fluttershy. Pollinating the flowers, making the ponies smile—something to give, always giving.”
Softly, she brought the hoof to her chest, and sighed. “That’s what I’d like to be, you know. It’s why I’m proud to live the life I do. It’s the little things that go a long way.” She opened her eyes, and the Nightmare stepped back, hesitant to meet their crystal blue.
But then it snarled, and leapt forward. “Then, my little pony, what is the strength of a mere butterfly to a gale?” Its horn lit up, and the world went white.
Rarity was falling again, falling. With a howl, she realized that it was faster than before. The wind came buffeting at her now, screeching, chipping the rocks on the cliffside. The cliffside. Rarity watched in horror as the Nightmare’s voice boomed in her ears, and she rattled, whether from fear or the cold. “So, dear Rarity. Let me tell you a story. About you.”
As the wind screeched, the stars began to sing again, instead moaning out dreary, dissonant dirges, their voices unidentifiable, pleading. As the sky grew dark, thunder rumbled above, and Rarity found herself looking at… herself. On the cliffside, Rarity was running. As the gales twisted and turned, the scene shifted. Always, Rarity was running. Away from her job, away from Ponyville, away from her friends, away from Sweetie Belle.
“You’re the butterfly, aren’t you?” the Nightmare cackled. “Flap your wings. FLAP! See how little your little things carry you in the face of a storm.” And then Rarity felt so, so small, and tossing and turning in the wind, she began to flail again, hooves uncontrollably writhing at random. She watched in horror as she began to wither away, skin wrinkling, lips peeling, dwelling in the darkness.
Then Rarity blinked again, and she, too, was gone. Another blink and she was back with the stars sorrowing a sad elegy for her, and she was huddled in a ball, shivering and sobbing.
When her tears dried up again, she peeked out from behind her trembling hooves and saw the Nightmare besides her, a victorious smirk on its face, stretching out a hoof. “Let not this be your fate,” it said. “Join me.”
Rarity weakly pushed the hoof away. She whimpered, “You’re wrong. I… I matter. And what I do matters to the ponies I care about.” She cringed at her own statement, but pressed on. “And, and… no matter what you do, I’ll keep flapping. I’ll win. I’ll show you that it’s the little things that go a long way, not your gales.”
The Nightmare chuckled. “Oho? Very well.”
Rarity did a double take. “What?”
“I’m saying you win, Rarity,” it said. “I like it when my hosts are willing, after all. Well, no matter. I’ll be waiting when you pay another visit.”
Rarity tried to protest. “Wait, wh—”
“Ta-ta!” the Nightmare exclaimed, lighting its horn. And then Rarity was falling next to the cliffside again, inside her body, and she looked down and screamed, because for the first time, she saw the ground. And just as she was about to hit it, she felt herself being yanked, pulled towards the cliffside, and as she braced herself for impact she touched the cliff and it sucked her in, and then she was gone.
Rarity woke with a start, jolting out of bed fully awake. Audibly gasping for air, she clutched the bedpost, eyes wide open, sweat dripping as she watched the smoke recede from her room, out of Carousel Boutique. Scanning the area, she observed, thankfully, that nothing seemed to be out of place.
“The little things,” she murmured, “the little things, the little things, the little things.”
She concentrated, and her horn lit up. She focused her magic towards the extinguished candles and they came back to life, dancing in the nighttime breeze.
She needed to warn Twilight that the Nightmare was back. Twilight would know what to do, what to say, right? But first, a cursory peek, just to check if Sweetie Belle was okay.
Stumbling down the hallway, candle in her magic, Rarity haggardly opened the door to Sweetie’s empty room.
The crows nesting on Carousel Boutique cawed, flapping away as she screamed.
Pics
Nicely written:
But I'm not getting much of an idea about what's going on. Why does the Nightmare come to Rarity on this particular day, for instance, instead of, say, the day after Winter Wrap Up? I mean, the Nightmare could come to her at any time, so what's the trigger that causes it to make her this offer today? And I'm not at all sure what happens at the end. Surely it'd take something splashier than an empty room to make Rarity scream?
A few details confused me here and there, too. Rarity falls asleep looking at her cutie mark? How? Is she curled up like a cat? And why does it never occur to her that she might be dreaming during her hours of falling? She's also very subdued throughout the whole piece, something that Rarity very rarely is. I'd like to see more flashes of her bravado and her resourcefulness especially if you mean for her to be crushed by whatever it is that happens at the end.
Mike
But I'm not getting much of an idea about what's going on. Why does the Nightmare come to Rarity on this particular day, for instance, instead of, say, the day after Winter Wrap Up? I mean, the Nightmare could come to her at any time, so what's the trigger that causes it to make her this offer today? And I'm not at all sure what happens at the end. Surely it'd take something splashier than an empty room to make Rarity scream?
A few details confused me here and there, too. Rarity falls asleep looking at her cutie mark? How? Is she curled up like a cat? And why does it never occur to her that she might be dreaming during her hours of falling? She's also very subdued throughout the whole piece, something that Rarity very rarely is. I'd like to see more flashes of her bravado and her resourcefulness especially if you mean for her to be crushed by whatever it is that happens at the end.
Mike
I agree with >>Baal Bunny, Rarity practically took that sitting down, which isn't her style (unless her spirit is crushed). And I'll again agree with >>Baal Bunny, why on that random day of all days? Also, what happened to Sweetie Belle? You built up to a cliff hanger, without any buildup.
I'm honestly assuming you ran out of time writing this so that is why the ending was so abrupt, but it did hurt your story quite a bit.
I do like the message behind the story, "Be a rock that will weather the storm", "Don't give up", etc. I honestly see Rarity filling this role if the others were to lose their motivation (this would suit Twilight better, but Rarity is the next best choice). Good choice.
Rating: Rough-Cut Gem
I'm honestly assuming you ran out of time writing this so that is why the ending was so abrupt, but it did hurt your story quite a bit.
I do like the message behind the story, "Be a rock that will weather the storm", "Don't give up", etc. I honestly see Rarity filling this role if the others were to lose their motivation (this would suit Twilight better, but Rarity is the next best choice). Good choice.
Rating: Rough-Cut Gem
Mostly pretty good. Technically proficient, no complaints at all about style or mechanics.
The visuals felt a bit rough for me, though. Or, perhaps not rough, so much as not fully finished. Baal mentioned the thing about Rarity falling asleep looking at her cutie mark. This seems like an odd choice of position, without being justified by further explanation.
Also:
"There they were, in the hundreds of thousands, tiny dots milling amidst the landscape."
The landscape just seems to be referenced out of nowhere. I pieced it together, but this doesn't feel like a thing readers are intended to be piecing together on their own. Try more clearly describing how it is that Rarity sees a landscape.
Similarly, I pieced together what (I think) happens at the end, and it makes sense - but again, this seems like something too subtle, not fully formed. The two commenters above me seem to have gone past it without picking it up, which is a pretty good indication that more elaboration is required. Now, I think this should be on the subtle side to work most effectively as a dark turn to end on, so just a touch more, don't beat it over the head or anything - but it does need something, because as it is, it seems to be coming off to other readers as a sudden, unhinted twist that's clashing the rest of the tone rather than as the foreshadowed and successfully blended-in sinister turn I think it's meant to be.
The visuals felt a bit rough for me, though. Or, perhaps not rough, so much as not fully finished. Baal mentioned the thing about Rarity falling asleep looking at her cutie mark. This seems like an odd choice of position, without being justified by further explanation.
Also:
"There they were, in the hundreds of thousands, tiny dots milling amidst the landscape."
The landscape just seems to be referenced out of nowhere. I pieced it together, but this doesn't feel like a thing readers are intended to be piecing together on their own. Try more clearly describing how it is that Rarity sees a landscape.
Similarly, I pieced together what (I think) happens at the end, and it makes sense - but again, this seems like something too subtle, not fully formed. The two commenters above me seem to have gone past it without picking it up, which is a pretty good indication that more elaboration is required. Now, I think this should be on the subtle side to work most effectively as a dark turn to end on, so just a touch more, don't beat it over the head or anything - but it does need something, because as it is, it seems to be coming off to other readers as a sudden, unhinted twist that's clashing the rest of the tone rather than as the foreshadowed and successfully blended-in sinister turn I think it's meant to be.
Interesting that you used Time Turner instead of Doctor Whooves. Really subverted my expectations there.
Something I liked:
I have mixed feelings about this entry, but one thing that isn't mixed is the representation of the Nightmare. Now, I'm not familiar with the comics, but I do know that Nightmare Rarity was a thing. Probably got some juicy fan art, maybe even a centerfold. More importantly, I like that the Nightmare is naturally charismatic, which is a quality that seems to rub off on whoever gets attached to it. Nightmare Moon and Nightmare Rarity are treacherous villains, but at least they're charismatic and sexy. Am I getting side-tracked? For what it's worth, but this is a rather engaging conversation, not the only time we'll see an entry this round that's almost like an extended monologue.
Something I didn't like:
I feel like in an effort to keep the tense pace of the story going, there's very little context given as to why it's happening. There's also something off about Rarity, which has been noted in other reviews. To put it bluntly, i can't imagine her interacting with the Nightmare in this way. She seems to submissive, which is a quality that for Rarity requires a lot more justification than what we're given. The ending is also... there? Something bad happens to Sweetie Belle, but since we don't get any word from her within the story it's hard to be invested in what happens to her, and the immense vagueness that goes into those closing sentences doesn't help. I feel like if you're going for a gut punch of a twist, you should make sure the audience knows.
Verdict: Nicely ominous, but also too vaguely framed for me to feel the tension like I should.
Something I liked:
I have mixed feelings about this entry, but one thing that isn't mixed is the representation of the Nightmare. Now, I'm not familiar with the comics, but I do know that Nightmare Rarity was a thing. Probably got some juicy fan art, maybe even a centerfold. More importantly, I like that the Nightmare is naturally charismatic, which is a quality that seems to rub off on whoever gets attached to it. Nightmare Moon and Nightmare Rarity are treacherous villains, but at least they're charismatic and sexy. Am I getting side-tracked? For what it's worth, but this is a rather engaging conversation, not the only time we'll see an entry this round that's almost like an extended monologue.
Something I didn't like:
I feel like in an effort to keep the tense pace of the story going, there's very little context given as to why it's happening. There's also something off about Rarity, which has been noted in other reviews. To put it bluntly, i can't imagine her interacting with the Nightmare in this way. She seems to submissive, which is a quality that for Rarity requires a lot more justification than what we're given. The ending is also... there? Something bad happens to Sweetie Belle, but since we don't get any word from her within the story it's hard to be invested in what happens to her, and the immense vagueness that goes into those closing sentences doesn't help. I feel like if you're going for a gut punch of a twist, you should make sure the audience knows.
Verdict: Nicely ominous, but also too vaguely framed for me to feel the tension like I should.