Chapter 4

“I’m really super duper extra sorry, Rarity.”

The unicorn refused to lift her eyes from the pad of paper that rested on the table before her. Instead, she simply continued her sketching as she replied, in an icy tone, “I am not speaking to you right now, Pinkamena Diane Pie.”

“But … but I’m sorry.”

“So you’ve informed me.”

“Super duper extra sorry, even!”

“You’ve already said that, too, darling.”

Pinkie let out a frustrated-sounding sigh. “But I can’t be any more sorry than super duper extra sorry. That’s, like, the sorriest a pony can get!”

“Oh, you’re certainly sorry, all right,” Rarity muttered under her breath, still stubbornly not taking her eyes off her sketchpad.

She was sitting at the little side table she used for tea and not at her larger work table, as the side table sat near a large window in her studio where the sunlight streamed in and made everything all warm and cozy. While doing her best to ignore Pinkie, who was leaning over her shoulder, distressingly far into her bubble of personal space, Rarity sketched out the basics of a new gown design. It was long and flowing, with a raw, jagged edge, reminiscent of a certain rainbow-colored mane. The main piece was to be of a vibrant pink, overlaid with chiffon dyed various pastel hues.

If she executed this design correctly, the final dress should be absolutely stunning. Just as stunning as it was to gaze at a rainbow in the magic of an early morning sunrise. Truth be told, Rarity was quite excited to see how this particular little project would turn out.

She was distracted as hot, sugary breath fell upon her cheek.

“Rarity …” Pinkie’s voice came out as something between a whine and a plea.

“Still can’t hear you, dear. Your speaking privileges remain revoked for …” Rarity glanced up from her sketchpad to check the clock that hung on the far wall. “ … for ten more minutes.”

“Ten more minutes? But that’s practically forever!”

Rarity finally turned to look at Pinkie, who was pouting as petulantly as a foal. The unicorn lifted an unsympathetic eyebrow. “Well, perhaps a certain pony should have thought of that before she went and took actions that resulted in us being unceremoniously thrown out of one of Canterlot’s most prestigious museums.”

“But I didn’t mean to--”

There was a soft cough from a few feet away, and both ponies’ heads whirled around simultaneously.

Snips cringed and took a step back. “Uh, pardon me for interrupting, Lady Rarity.” His eyes cut towards the doors on the opposite side of the room, beyond which lay the main reception area for the boutique. “I wanted to let you know that a Lady Calliope Hue is here. She says she’s curator of the Museum of Contemporary Art and Culture.”

Rarity drew in a sharp breath then let it out, very slowly and very deliberately. “Thank you, Snips. Please send her in.”

After a nod and a bow, the unicorn stallion quickly made his way back across the room. He slipped through the doors and, after a moment, muffled voices could be heard from the reception area.

Without turning to look at Pinkie, Rarity hissed between clenched teeth, “Thirty minutes. Your speaking prohibition has now been extended to thirty minutes.”

“Aww!”

The doors opened again before Pinkie could offer further protest, and in trotted a refined-looking unicorn mare with a pale tan coat and graying mane. Her face was a complete mask as she made her way across the room with a firm, brisk step. Rarity set aside her sketches and, with a heavy feeling in her chest, stood up so as to properly greet her visitor.

As the museum curator reached the two mares already present, Lady Calliope Hue offered a slight nod to each. Then she focused her uncompromising gaze on Pinkie Pie in particular. “Lady Pinkamena Diane Pie of Ponyville, I presume?”

“Uh, yep, that’s me.” Pinkie grinned nervously. “All my friends just call me Pinkie Pie, though.”

Rarity resisted the urge to drop her face into her hooves and openly begin weeping. But she didn’t think that would particularly help matters, so she remained standing perfectly still, with a pleasant if empty smile frozen on her face.

“Lady Pinkamena,” the museum curator began again. “I am sure you know why I have sought you out.”

Pinkie bit her lip. “Is it because you want me to throw a party?”

“No. It isn’t.”

Rarity felt a surge of protectiveness swell within her breast--she supposed it was the perpetual older sister in her. Irritating though Pinkie might be, Pinkie was nonetheless her dear friend, and she would not stand by idly as the poor, well-meaning pony was raked over the coals.

So she took a step forward, positioning herself between Pinkie and the other unicorn, and said in as smooth a voice as she could muster, “Now please see here, Lady Calliope. I do understand your position, but I assure you that Lady Pinkamena is terribly sorry about what--”

“Why?”

Rarity frowned. “I … I beg pardon?”

“Why would Lady Pinkamena be sorry?” A large grin suddenly broke over Lady Calliope’s face. “Ever since word has gotten out that Rolling Stone has retired from the fine arts world, his renown as an artist has skyrocketed. And as our museum has the collection featuring his very last pieces of work, our reputation has skyrocketed, as well--not to mention the donations that have been pouring in all morning!”

Taken completely off guard, Rarity could only stare.

The older mare continued on, sounding positively giddy, “I just wanted to come to personally thank Lady Pinkamena for what she accomplished last night. That’s all.”

“Oh, don’t mention it!” Pinkie had perked up considerably, now that she’d realized she wasn’t in trouble. “It was no biggie. I take care of smile emergencies all the time, believe you me.”

“Even so, Lady Pinkamena, we are greatly in your debt.” With a flick of her horn, the curator magically pulled out two small slips of paper, levitated them over to where Pinkie Pie stood, and set them down on the side table. “As a small token of the museum’s appreciation, please accept these tickets to tonight’s performance that is taking place at the Canterlot Opera House.”

Pinkie frowned thoughtfully. “Oh, I dunno, I’m not really--” She cut herself off and, after sneaking a not very stealthy glance over at Rarity, she smiled. “Actually, that sounds great! Thanks lots, Lady Calliope!”

“It’s our pleasure, I assure you. I shan’t take up any more of your time, as I’m sure you’re both very busy mares.” She nodded to Pinkie. “Thank you again, Lady Pinkamena.” Turning, she gave Rarity a nod as well. “And thank you, Lady Rarity, for graciously granting me an audience with ... your companion.”

Still unclear on just what had happened here Rarity merely nodded back in reply. The curator left the room with the same purposeful, energetic gait as she’d entered.

As soon as Lady Calliope Hue disappeared through the door, Pinkie sidled over to Rarity. With a sly look in her eyes and a wicked grin on her face, she said in a faux casual tone, “So, Rarity … if I ask you to come to the opera with me, would that mean my talking ban can be over early?”

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As she sat across from Pinkie Pie at a table covered by the finest linens and illuminated by gently flickering candlelight, Rarity employed all of her considerable powers of restraint to keep from shouting at her dining companion. Pinkie was wolfing down her sauteed vegetable medley as though she hadn’t eaten in years, and the tuxedoed waiter had shot the earth mare more than a few subtle glances of disgust. Plus, Pinkie was consistently speaking at a volume that would not be out of place at a Wonderbolts performance but was rather out of place at a quiet, classy, and expensive restaurant.

But Rarity couldn’t bring herself to offer a protest to any of this. Not only was Pinkie taking her to the opera, but Pinkie had insisted on treating her to this dinner, as well. It would have been the height of rudeness for her to criticize her host, especially one acting as generously as Pinkie.

So Rarity bit down on her tongue and contented herself with arranging and then rearranging the folds of her gown. It was surprisingly soothing. Almost like meditating, really.

During a lull in the conversation, at a point where Pinkie began gobbling down bread rolls, Rarity decided to take the reins of the conversation. “So, tell me, darling, which opera will we be seeing tonight?”

“Oh! I dunno.” Licking her lips as she finished the last of the rolls, Pinkie took out the tickets and squinted at them. “Uh, the words look kinda funny. I don’t think I can read them.”

“The title’s probably in Istallion,” Rarity replied with a light little laugh. “The librettos of most operas are in Istallion.”

Pinkie nodded agreeably. “Yeah, that’s probably it! I guess it doesn’t matter, anyway. Seen one opera, seen ‘em all, right?”

Rarity goggled at that completely absurd statement before narrowing her eyes suspiciously. “You … you’ve never been to an opera, have you?”

“Uh …” Immediately Pinkie became shifty eyed and fidgety. “Well, I’m not so sure that opera’s really my thing, you know? I’m more of a polka pony, really. Polka’s the music of my homeland, after all, and I--”

“Pinkie! Why in Equestria did you invite me to go with you if you don’t even like opera?”

Pinkie gave the unicorn a shrug paired with a small, sheepish grin. “Because I know you do like opera. And I felt bad about what happened back at the museum and I wanted you to be happy again.”

Before Rarity could reply, the waiter dropped by the table to refill their bread basket and look down his nose at Pinkie some more. As he did so, Rarity quietly studied her friend. Pinkie was attempting to make friendly chit-chat with the waiter, who in turn was stoically ignoring her every effort to do so. The more the waiter ignored her, however, the more animated and bubbly Pinkie grew.

Then, to emphasize some point or another that she was making, Pinkie slammed her hoof down on the table and sent her water glass flying. Her eyes went wide in surprise as the water splashed her right in the face, and as the mare let out a comical little squeak … the waiter, at long last, cracked a grin. The grin was small, and it was fleeting, but it was undeniably there.

Pinkie must have seen that little grin, too, because she smiled triumphantly even as the water dripped down her face. With a small cough, the waiter schooled his features into something more serious and professional, before he righted Pinkie’s glass and refilled it yet again.

It was only after the waiter had finally moved off that Pinkie glanced up and seemed to notice that Rarity was staring at her. “Uh, is something wrong, Rarity?”

“You didn’t stay in Canterlot to go to parties.” The unicorn’s voice was very, very quiet. “You stayed in Canterlot to make me happy.”

Pinkie laughed, a laugh that was high and sweet and pure. It ended in the most unladylike snort imaginable. “Well, duh! Canterlot parties are terrible. Why would I want to stay here for those?”

Rarity nodded, slowly and contemplatively. She should have known. She should have seen. She should have seen a lot of things, really, but she hadn’t. It was shameful that she hadn’t been able to do so, but Rarity was never one to dwell on the past. It was much preferable to fix an error by ensuring that one’s next move was as absolutely brilliant and perfect as possible, so brilliant and perfect that nopony would even remember that earlier mistake, than it was to waste time fretting and groveling over things that couldn’t be undone.

Fortunately, Rarity knew exactly what to do, and she was reasonably confident that her plan was both brilliant and perfect.

=====================================================================

The opera house stood just a few blocks away from the Museum of Contemporary Art and Culture, nestled in Canterlot’s swanky arts district. It fit in much better with the surrounding architecture than did the museum, as the opera house was an ornate building of white marble and thick columns carved in the classical style. A long flight of stairs led up to the building’s archways, and while Pinkie bounded up three or four stairs at a time, Rarity climbed the stairs at a more leisurely and decorous pace.

Upon reaching the top, Rarity was greeted by a beaming Pinkie, who had been waiting for her with surprising patience, and together they strolled up to the opera house’s ticket booth.

In front of the booth stood a young couple, an earth pony stallion and mare, speaking with the tickets seller. Rarity could overhear the stallion, who both looked and sounded barely older than a colt, as the poor boy pleaded with the bored opera house clerk. Apparently the evening’s performance was sold out, and the young couple hadn’t been able to procure tickets in advance.

Rarity stopped walking and held out a hoof in front of Pinkie Pie. The pink mare turned to her with a quizzical grin.

“There’s something I should like to ask you, darling,” explained Rarity with a smile of her own, a smile that was small and mysterious. “Now, you must tell me the truth. Do you really want to attend this opera?”

“Well, sure, I do!”

“Do you want to attend for any reason other than you’d think it would make me happy?”

Pinkie frowned at that, as though the very nature of the question confused her, but didn’t otherwise respond.

Rarity gave a small nod. “I thought so. Wait right here, Pinkie. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Without waiting for a reply, the unicorn trotted off towards the tickets booth, where the young stallion continued to plead his case in vain. “Excuse me, darlings!” Rarity called out in a cheerful tone, as soon as she was within speaking range. “Please forgive my interruption, but I just so happened to overhear the tragic circumstances you’re currently facing. I was wondering if you’d like the pair of tickets I have in my possession.”

The earth pony stallion silently blinked at her.

Rarity put on her most reassuring smile. “Something has come up last minute, you understand, and I simply can’t make tonight’s performance. It would be such a terrible shame to have the tickets go to waste.”

“Um … that would be … ” The stallion began fumbling with his saddlebags. “I … I think I have should have enough bits in my change purse … “

With a lilting chuckle, the unicorn magically floated the tickets over to the earth pony mare, who stared at Rarity with wide eyes before taking the tickets between her teeth. “Oh, please, please, put that away,” Rarity urged. “I won’t accept a single bit for the tickets.”

The stallion’s head snapped back around. “R-really? This isn’t some kind of joke?”

“But of course not! To even think of doing such a thing as a jest … how uncouth.” Rarity gently shook her head before she turned to walk away. “I do hope you both enjoy the opera. Ta-ta!”

She was halfway back to Pinkie Pie when she heard the mare in the couple exclaim, “These are box seats!” Rarity smiled with a deep sense of self-satisfaction. Brilliant and perfect, indeed.

Meanwhile, Pinkie was wide-eyed with amazement. “But … but I thought we were gonna go to the opera!”

“Change of plans, my dear,” returned Rarity in a breezy tone. “I thought that, perhaps instead of an opera, you might wish to go out dancing with me?”

“Dancing?” Pinkie Pie repeated, as though she’d never heard the word before in her life. Still her eyes were as large as saucers.

“Yes, darling, dancing. I was thinking perhaps we could go to a discotheque.” The unicorn repressed a shudder at the very thought of such an entertainment venue. “My assistant Snips is always going on about a certain club that isn’t too terribly far from here. He’s informed me that it’s quite well known for its ‘house’ music, as the colts and fillies call it.”

Pinkie’s jaw dropped open.

Rarity felt like laughing at the rarely-seen sight of Pinkie Pie rendered speechless but, gentlemare that she was, she stifled the urge. Instead, she asked, with a slight smirk playing upon her lips, “You are still fond of that particular genre of dance music, are you not?”

It was at this point that Pinkie launched herself at the unicorn, tackling her in a rib-crushing hug, and Rarity found herself resisting less than she usually would. The truth was, she was far too pleased with her recent accomplishments to feel too bothered by the embrace. Brilliant and perfect, indeed.

=====================================================================

The discotheque was quite possibly the most horrid place Rarity had ever been in her entire life, and she’d been to both the Everfree Forest and Dodge Junction. It was crowded, hot, and tiny, with the large speakers by the dance floor pumping out music so loud that Rarity could feel her teeth rattling in her skull. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the walls were dingy, the floor was dingy, and every single patron in the club was dingy. Every so often the excitable deejay, a white unicorn with a bright blue mane and sunglasses, would shout something into her microphone and cause the crowds on the dance floor to yell and writhe wildly in reply.

If there was a purgatory in the afterlife, Rarity had not the slightest doubt that it must look and sound exactly like Canterlot’s Lucky Horseshoe nightclub.

“Isn’t this great, Rarity?” Pinkie screamed over the oppressive drumbeat of the music.

Rarity diplomatically chose to leave that particular question unanswered. “I believe I could use a drink,” she replied, leaning in close so she could be heard. “Would you care for one, darling?”

“Oh, no, thanks! I’m strictly a sarsaparilla kinda girl.” The earth pony frowned for a moment. “Besides, I'm pretty sure I should be buying you a drink. I’m the one who asked you on the date, y’know!”

“You asked me to the opera, certainly, but I am the one who asked you to go--” Suddenly, Rarity was mirroring Pinkie’s frown. “Date? What do you mean by ‘date,’ darling?”

Pinkie was bouncing on her hooves, her entire body vibrating in time to the music, as though she might simply burst if she didn’t dance along. She shot Rarity an amused look as she answered, “Y’know, a date! Dinner and a show … or dinner and dancing, now, I guess! You talk and stuff. Tell jokes, make googly eyes at each other. And at the very end, if things went okay, you get smooches!”

Rarity blinked.

“Ooooh. Guess this wasn’t a date, then.” Pinkie’s facial expression went blank, for the briefest of moments, before her smile returned full force. “Well, that’s okay! Hanging out and dancing as just-friends is a lot of fun, too.”

There was a brief pause, in which the deejay yelled out something that sounded very much like “Vinyl rules, Tavi drools!”, and then Rarity gave a brief, dignified nod. “Right. Yes. Well. I’m getting a drink. Perhaps a shot of something completely vile and dangerously flammable.” She smiled, and the smile only wobbled a little. “I shan’t be long, Pinkie. Be a dear, won’t you, and try not to get into too much trouble while I’m gone?”

It was a significantly tipsier and entirely more cheerful unicorn who returned to Pinkie Pie’s side some half-hour later. Rarity located Pinkie out on the dance floor, dancing away in the middle of the crowd, which was precisely where Rarity had expected to find her. The pink mare was throwing herself around in gleeful abandon, her eyes half-lidded and a rapturous expression on her face.

Rarity couldn’t stop a grin from slipping across her face. As she approached, Pinkie’s eyes suddenly opened fully, and Pinkie grinned back at her with a wonderful, uncomplicated joy shining in those blue depths. It was beautiful to behold. The music was still too loud, the dance floor was still too densely packed, and the air smelled vaguely of stale beer and rancid sweat--but with graceful ease, Rarity shrugged it all off, as a duck might shake off droplets of water from her back, as she began dancing with Pinkie Pie.

If she was going to make an utter fool of herself, there was no point in only going halfway. Lady Rarity never did anything halfway. Also, there was the booze. The booze helped, too.

She matched Pinkie in enthusiasm--if not in clumsiness--as she danced, and soon Rarity could feel the perspiration streaming down her neck. She ignored it, though, choosing instead to focus on how the pulsing bass seemed to send the blood pumping through her veins, filling her from hoof to horn with a manic sort of energy. She let her eyes slide shut, and she surrendered herself to the music and to the amazing sense of freedom that was flowing through her entire body like wine flowing from a jug.

She wondered if this was how Pinkie felt all the time … and she wondered if there was any way she could feel like this more often herself.

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Author's Notes: Many, many thanks to Chatoyance, who thought up the name for Lady Calliope Hue. Chatoyance also came up with an entire BACKSTORY for the character, too, and if you'd like to find out more about what secrets lurk deep within Lady Calliope's heart, you can find out in the comments on this blog post: http://www.fimfiction.net/blog/12802.

Also, apparently all of my multi-chapter romances will have ponies dancing and boozing.