Pony Planet: Side Stories
Making Repairs
Admiral Biscuit

Rarity snapped her head up as the bell over the shop door rang. The cracking of her neck was a reminder of just how long she’d been studying the damaged alien garments. Much to her annoyance, she had very little in the way of results to show for it.

The stallion’s leg-coverings had been the first thing she’d fixed. The denim was finer than what she usually saw, but the mills in the Shropshire region had been improving every year, and it wasn’t hard to imagine that with a little more ingenuity they’d be able to mass-produce a similar fabric. It was something she knew how to work with, anyways. A majority of the uniform clothing she mended was made of similar cloth.

The coppery rivets were marvellously small. It was a detail she might have expected to find in a well-crafted watch, perhaps, but unusual for clothing. Still, they were clearly decorative, so perhaps it was a signature of the clothier, just as her garments either had a three-diamond motif, or a stylized R.

Her true admiration had been reserved for the zipper. Its tiny teeth had been cunningly crafted, each one perfectly identical. A patient craftspony would have to labor for days to create such a marvel, which made the fact it was hidden by a flap of cloth even more puzzling. Had she put such an intricate zipper on a piece of clothing, she’d want it to be where everypony could see it. Still, it could be uncovered, so maybe there was a certain etiquette to whether it was shown or not.

She’d sewn strips of similar denim inside the cloth to avoid damaging the lines of the leggings as much as possible, and used thread that was the closest blue to the fabric that she could find. She’d also made a second pair—using the first as a pattern. She’d replicated the rivets with small opal chips; the front opening had been left without a zipper. She’d considered embroidering a zipper pattern on, but decided to determine the function before committing herself.

The white shorts had also been an easy fix; the only trouble she’d had was stitching the stretchy bands. Both pairs of socks had been replaced—there was no sense in fixing them, not in their current condition. The geometric pattern on the bottom had been a little harder to duplicate, but she managed well enough with embroidery floss. It was curious that both the mare and the stallion had the same pattern on their socks, although one was pink and the other red.

“Welcome to Carousel Boutique,” she began with a cheerfulness she didn’t really feel.

“Rarity, if it’s not too much trouble, I wonder if you could do a little mending for me.” Hazel Harvest trotted into the gallery.

“Ah—” Rarity reluctantly looked up from the trousers.

“It’s my suit. It’s just a little torn, but you know it’s no good if it’s got a tear in it.” She reached back into her saddlebags and started tugging. After several grunts of effort, she finally managed to get the balled fabric out. An unmistakable odor immediately started rising from the garment.

“You . . . didn’t wash it,” Rarity muttered.

“I didn’t have time,” Hazel said. “I meant to, but . . . you know how it is.”

Rarity poked a hoof at it. She really didn’t want to know what was on it.

“The hole’s at the bottom of one of the feet. I must have gotten a shoe caught on it.” Hazel started trying to un-crumple the suit, but Rarity held up a hoof to stop her. Flakes of what she hoped were just dirt were falling onto her clean floor.

“I’ll wash it for you, darling. And air it out.”

“Thanks! Can I have it back by tomorrow morning? I need it for work.”

Rarity’s eyelid twitched. “Tomorrow? It might not even be dry by tomorrow morning.”

“Well . . . what am I going to do?”

Rarity resisted the urge to say, you should have brought it in yesterday or the day before. She grit her teeth. “I could have it done by noon. No sooner.”

Hazel threw her forelegs around Rarity. “Oh, thanks Rarity! You’re the best! That’s why I always bring my clothes to you!” She trotted out the door.

Don’t I know it. Rarity kicked the suit across the floor. But do you ever buy a single dress? No. Do you ever spend a single bit more than you have to? No. She expertly punted the balled-up suit into her washtub. I’ll let that soak for an hour and see if it’s fit to touch then.

She eagerly returned to her worktable and lifted a roll of sketches out of a pigeonhole. She’d drawn them after Twilight had shown her the clothing in the picture-book. The sketches had been meant to inspire further clothing designs; who could have imagined they would have come in handy so quickly?

Rarity looked back over at the stack of clothes which still needed to be mended. She’d already given up on the orange vest; she had no idea what it was made out of. The orange fabric felt slippery, almost like it was made of wax. The inside squished down when poked with a hoof, but sprang right back. Are they putting cloud in fabric now? Like the socks, it was going to have to be completely re-made. On her next trip to Canterlot, she could try and find some fabric which matched the vest, or else she could try and make her own on her loom; either way, it was a project which would take some time.

She finally decided to tackle the mare’s blue shirt next. She could cover the seams on the side with orange piping—while it was a color combination she found abhorrent, apparently the mare liked it. The sleeves were a different matter. One of them had been partially burned off, and there was no fixing that. She’d have to use the left sleeve as a pattern for the right, and transfer the patches over. If she simplified the cuff to having one functional button and one decorative, she’d have enough to complete the shirt: she had no buttons which were a match for the ones on the shirt.

She floated some fabric swatches out of her cabinet and carried them and the shirt over to a window. She moved each swatch up to the shirt in turn, trying to find the fabric that was the best match in texture and color. It felt almost like cotton, but wasn’t quite the same.

Rarity was stitching the patches back on the shoulders of the shirt when the bell above the door jingled again. “Welcome to—”

“It’s me,” Sweetie Belle said. “Didn’t you hear the school bell?”

“I was distracted,” Rarity replied, wincing as she heard a bowl land on the kitchen table. “I have a special order to complete as soon as possible.”

“Can I see?”

Rarity jerked her head around. Her sister’s voice sounded awfully close. . . .

“That’s kind of . . . bright.” Sweetie poked a hoof at the orange vest. “Is it for a construction pony? It’s awfully big.”

“No, it’s for an alien that’s in the hospital.” As soon as the last word had left her mouth, Rarity wished she could have had another moment to think before she spoke. The wide-eyed look on Sweetie’s face told her all she needed to know. I might have a chance to distract her . . . think, Rarity. “Who won’t be getting out for a while because, um, he had an accident with, with bad magic. Badly-cast magic. Which can land a unicorn in a hospital. Which is why—”

“I wish I could do magic. Dumb horn.”

“—I’d like to help you practice your magic.” She isn’t going to take the bait.

Sweetie broke into a huge smile. “Really? Right now?”

Oh, Celestia, she did. “Well, of course.” Rarity set down her scissors and neatly laid her glasses by her sewing machine. “You should eat your snack first. It’s best not to try to cast on an empty stomach, because that can cause indigestion.” Well, if this produces any results at all, she’s probably going to fall asleep as soon as she’s had her dinner. She looked back at the pile of clothes still waiting to be mended and sighed. I’ll be up all night at this rate.

Author's Notes:

Explanitory Blog Post

I owe a huge debt of gratitude to metallusionismagic, who willingly pre-read these two chapters, one more that's about to be posted, and the upcoming chapter of Onto the Pony Planet . . . which I told him about at 9:30 this morning.