Rarity found Sweetie Belle in the kitchen.

She wasn’t exactly surprised to find her there - Sweetie only rarely holed herself up in her room when staying at the Boutique. It wasn’t quite surprise, either, that struck Rarity as she saw her sister at the kitchen table, an envelope lying torn open on the surface beside her. A piece of paper sat in her hooves. Its corners were crumpled, the center and sides slightly smoothed over.

Sweetie Belle sat in her usual chair, the one by the window. Her mane covered her eyes. Rarity frowned. Another pony may have missed it, but she could see how Sweetie’s hooves trembled on the table, making the glass of water beside her shake every few seconds. Sweetie took a breath. A shiver ran up her chest and back down to her legs, which dangled off the edge of the chair.

Rarity’s mind spun. Rejected by a colt? A failing report card? But it was only when she saw the seal on the discarded envelope that she realized what had happened. She recognized that look on Sweetie’s face. She could see the familiar twitch of the lips, the tremor in her hooves.

Rarity let a smile fall onto her face. It wouldn’t do for her to confront Sweetie right now. No; when she was ready, her sister would open up and talk to her about it. So instead of approaching the table and asking about her day or what the letter was about, she turned to a cabinet and busied herself with removing a pair of mugs from the lower shelf.

The two cups floated down to the counter below, their handles enveloped in her magic. They clinked onto a pair of china saucers. “Chamomile, Sweetie Belle? Or would you prefer mint?”

“Chamomile,” Sweetie mumbled, automatically, Rarity supposed. She hesitated. “Please.”

Rarity nodded and set about heating the kettle. Not a minute later, she had the water steaming from the spout; ten seconds later, she had the cream poured, the teabags mixed, and the sugars added - two cubes for Sweetie Belle, and one for herself. Magic did tend to come in handy when handling multiple objects, and even moreso in the kitchen. She’d never burned herself on a kettle, but she’d heard it was quite unpleasant.

The saucers were a soft, blue color with a floral design. Sweetie had picked them out herself at the last Trade Festival they’d been to. They barely made a sound as Rarity set them onto the table. She’d learned to pride herself on her skill in chakai, an art she’d learned from a travelling lung-ma from Neighpon.

While Sweetie had never been one for the more subtle arts, she’d always loved picking out her favorite designs. That was why the plates Rarity set out - soon to be covered in two biscuits exactly - were one of Sweetie’s purchases as well. A simple heart shape covered the center of each plate, with rose petals circling the outer edges.

Rarity stared out the window as she waited for Sweetie Belle to speak. She levitated her cup to her mouth, blowing on it occasionally as she waited for it to cool. She spoke not a word to Sweetie, though she made sure to leave her body language open to conversation: a hoof on the table, a half-turn of the neck.

Sweetie Belle had never been a quiet filly. If she needed - and wanted - to talk, Rarity would be here. If Rarity attempted to begin the conversation, Sweetie would resent it - refuse it, even. This conversation had to be on Sweetie’s terms. There were few things harder than the first time, Rarity knew.

It was only when Rarity had drained a fourth of her cup and eaten a full half a biscuit that Sweetie finally spoke up.

“I bet you’re itching to ask me what was in the letter,” Sweetie mumbled. Rarity noted out of the corner of her eye that the paper was still clenched in Sweetie’s hooves, though less tightly than before. She said nothing.

“It was from the - “ Sweetie took a deep breath before continuing. Her voice sounded ragged. “It was from the Manehatten Ensemble Chorus.”

Rarity inclined her head.

“About the audition,” Sweetie said. “The one last month.”

“I remember,” Rarity said, carefully. “You looked lovely for it.”

The corner of Sweetie Belle’s mouth twitched. “Too bad they weren’t testing for appearance, then,” she said. “The list of accepted ponies just got in. And I - “

She took another breath and looked down at the table.

“I didn’t get in.”

She held up a hoof as Rarity opened her mouth to speak. “And it’s not a mistake, or a petty insult, or anything silly like that. They sent me an apology letter and everything. I just…” She licked her lips, shaking her head. “...didn’t make it.”

Rarity pursed her lips. “May I see the letter?” Sweetie levitated it over without a word.

Rarity skimmed the words. Dear Ms. Belle, We thank you for your audition, but regret to inform you - bah. What she could read in between the lines was much more interesting - especially when she saw Silver Spoon’s name on the list of accepted ponies on the next page.

“Yeah,” Sweetie said as Rarity turned the page. “Spoon got in.” She made a circling motion with her hoof. “Whoop-de-doo.”

“Sweetie Belle,” Rarity said, her eyes flickering over the top of the letter, “I’ll thank you not to belittle your classmates like that. I’m sure she worked very hard to earn that position.”

“And I didn’t?” Sweetie Belle said loudly. She glared at Rarity.

“You worked hard,” Rarity said.

“But not as hard?” Sweetie said. Her voice cracked, jumping up an octave before crashing back down.

Rarity took another sip of her tea. “I didn’t say that.”

“But you were thinking it,” Sweetie said. Her hoof thumped on the table, and the plates shook. “Singing is my special talent! Spoon’s talent is - I don’t even know what it is! And I doubt she does, either! I should have gotten her position! She doesn’t deserve it!”

“Sweetie Belle!” Rarity said sharply. “We do not throw tantrums!”

“I’m not throwing a tantrum!“

Rarity closed her eyes. There was no use engaging Sweetie like this. “Have a biscuit,” she said.

Sweetie took a breath, as if ready to yell right back - and blinked. “I - what?”

“Have a biscuit,” Rarity repeated. Her horn shimmered, and Sweetie’s plate moved a few inches closer to her. “Please.”

Sweetie made no movement. She instead eyed the plate as if expecting it to leap at her at any moment. The two biscuits, untouched, sat innocently in the middle.

“They’re quite lovely,” Rarity said. As if to prove it, she hovered a biscuit to her mouth and took a big bite - not large enough to be unladylike, but larger than her usual nibbling. “I got them on sale at the tea shop this weekend. Please, try one.”

Sweetie Belle blinked again. This time, though, she reached down - slowly, as if it might bite - and took a biscuit from the tray. Rarity suppressed a fond smile. Even with all the practice and progress she’d been making, it was still instinct for Sweetie to use her hooves instead of her horn for this kind of thing. She was still a foal in that way, at least. She just hoped - no, knew - that she could be a mare for this instead.

“The tea, too,” Rarity said. Sweetie took a bite of her biscuit, chewed it for a bit, and then swallowed. “It’s fresh chamomile,” Rarity went on. “I do hope it’s not gotten cold.”

The look on Sweetie’s face was almost absurdly guilty. She set the biscuit back down hurriedly, her hooves darting down to the table and picking up the cup almost as fast. She took a quick gulp of tea. “It’s good,” she said.

“Not too sweet?” Rarity asked. Sweetie shook her head. “Very good. And the biscuits?”

“A little too crunchy,” Sweetie said. She hiccuped. Then she sniffled.

Then her voice caught in her throat, and the first tears welled up in her eyes.

“It’s not - it’s not fair,” Sweetie sobbed. Her voice sounded ragged, as if she were pulling each syllable out of a shredder. “I wanted that position. I tried so hard.”

“I know you did,” Rarity said. Some small part of her wanted to leap up from the table and squeeze Sweetie in her arms. She wanted to cuddle her, to comfort her, to tell her that everything was going to be okay.

But Sweetie deserved better than that.

So Rarity sat in her seat and sipped her tea. She took a hold of Sweetie’s hoof, not tightly, but it was enough. She kept an even gaze, eyes staring out the window, and waited.

Soon enough, the tears faded. A few blotchy spots remained on Sweetie's cheeks. There weren’t many, but it was enough to mar the makeup that Rarity knew had taken Sweetie so long to put on that morning. A few errant sobs still shook Sweetie's shoulders, her chest trembling with each one, but those were fewer and weaker as well. Soon, there was only the occasional hiccup.

"Thanks," Sweetie mumbled. "I'm sorry for - I'm sorry I did that."

"Don't be, dear," Rarity said. She gave Sweetie's hoof a quick squeeze. "It's a perfectly natural reaction."

"But I - there's no reason for me to be such a foal about it," Sweetie said. She squeezed her eyes shut, though Rarity noticed that she didn't remove her hoof from hers. "What kind of stupid baby breaks down over something like that?"

"Most ponies," Rarity said. "Most fillies."

"Now," she went on, "it looks like I've bought you some terrible makeup - it's gone all blotchy. Forgive me. Would you like to come upstairs so I can reapply it?"

Sweetie Belle had bought the makeup. Sweetie Belle had put it on. But both of them knew that, and so both knew that it didn't matter. Sweetie nodded, still not meeting Rarity's eyes.

A smile flickered on Rarity's lips. "Excellent." She brushed the hair out of Sweetie's face, gave her hoof a final squeeze, and stood up. "And do bring that other biscuit. Dry or not, there's something about them that I find quite addictive."

She turned around and began the walk upstairs. She didn't need to turn around or wait for the sound of hoofsteps to know that Sweetie was following her. The faint smile on Sweetie's face had been all the evidence she'd needed.

Rarity's parlor had never been a small affair. She'd built it up over the years, putting it together piece by piece until it resembled an Applewood actress's makeup room more than the smaller, humbler washroom she'd converted it from. She'd asked Big Mac to do the renovations to connect it to her bedroom years ago. Though her makeup collection had been but a fraction of its current size then, she'd liked to dream big.

"Let's see," she said, glancing over a shelf groaning with glass jars and bottles. "Some cleanup is in order, I think. And some mascara. Ah! Mustn't forget the hoof polish. And color - what do you think, Sweetie? Purple?"

"Blue would be nice," Sweetie said quietly. She'd clambered into Rarity's "working chair" without being prompted. It was a rare occasion that Rarity allowed anypony into her personal parlor, but she knew that Sweetie had felt comfortable here since the first time she'd snuck in as a filly and stolen half her stock of lipstick.

"Blue it is," Rarity said. She barely needed to search, already knowing the position of each bottle by heart, but she made the effort anyway to give Sweetie the familiar motions. "Number 43, I think. That'll look lovely on you." She set it aside.

The corners of Sweetie Belle's mouth tugged upwards. It wasn't a full smile, not by a long shot, but Rarity was willing to settle.

"You know," Rarity said, wetting a washcloth, "it's not uncommon for ponies to have similar problems to yours."

Sweetie Belle blinked - and then squeezed her eyes shut as Rarity lightly sponged and mopped at her face. “Mmff - really?"

"Mmhm."

"Not being good enough?"

Rarity pursed her lips. "Feeling inadequate, darling. Feeling confused. And while I can't speak to exactly what goes on in your head, by your words earlier, I'd judge that it's something to do with the mark on your flank."

"Kind of," Sweetie said. Rarity set the washcloth aside and removed a brush from a drawer. "I just...thought I'd do better. That I'd be better."

"You're far from the first filly to fail an audition," Rarity said. She frowned and tugged the brush through Sweetie's mane. "Knots, dear. When was the last time you shampooed?"

Sweetie winced. "Er...sometime?" Rarity tutted.

"And I know that I'm not the first filly to fail," Sweetie Belle went on. She sighed, her hooves kicking off the side of the chair. "I guess I'm kinda selfish. If I'd gotten on, then another filly or colt wouldn't have made it."

"By that logic, everypony should always be allowed on everything," Rarity said. She snorted. "Giving out trophies for participation instead of success is more than a bit silly. But I think you're on the right track."

She’d finished with Sweetie’s mane by now, and had moved to lightly brushing her coat."Tell me, Sweetie - what's your Cutie Mark for?"

Sweetie started and, almost instinctively, glanced over to see for herself. "That I'm good at singing?" she offered. Her Cutie Mark, comprising a single microphone overlaying a stylized heart, was admittedly hardly the most mysterious Cutie Mark that Rarity had seen.

"Perhaps," Rarity said. "Now tell me - what would an audition-winning Cutie Mark look like?"

Sweetie pondered that for a moment. "Maybe a stage?"

"A stage? Nonsense." Rarity sniffed. "Perhaps a stuffy old audition room, or a desk full of paperwork. And I can't say I've met anypony with such a Mark." Sweetie giggled at that.

"No, no," Rarity went on. She’d moved onto mascara by now, taking care to keep Sweetie’s face still as she gently went around her sister’s eyes. She finished, inspected her work, and replaced the mascara pencil in its case. "I think we could do much better than that."

"So," Sweetie said, somewhat uncertainly, "just because I'm good at singing doesn't mean that I'm good at auditions?"

"That's one way to look at it," Rarity said. She uncapped the bottle of hoof polish and dipped the brush before continuing. "Certainly they tend to correlate. But think again. What does a Cutie Mark represent?"

"A...special talent?" Sweetie Belle looked askance at Rarity through the mirror.

"True enough,” Rarity said. “That's what they tell you in school, isn't it?" Sweetie Belle's head bobbed up and down as Rarity replaced the hoof-polish in its bottle and withdrew the brush again.

"What would you say my special talent is?" Rarity asked.

Sweetie answered without missing a beat. "Fashion."

Rarity quirked an eyebrow and paused mid-brush. "Oh? But darling, that's such a broad field. What about fashion?"

Sweetie Belle's forehead wrinkled. Rarity almost laughed; that look from Sweetie's fillyhood had stuck with her for years, and Rarity, for one, would never forget how adorable she looked when she thought hard about something.

"Clothes?" Sweetie offered. "Making clothes? Dresses? Stuff like that?"

"Close," Rarity said. She winked. "My Mark is a bit symbolic, I'm afraid. I've a talent for 'diamonds in the rough' - taking a dry, unfabulous outfit and making it new, trendy, and chic!

"Or at least, that's the way I choose to present it," she said, coughing into a hoof. She smiled again. "Cutie Marks are wonderfully elastic things."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," Rarity said, "Cutie Marks don't represent all of you.”

Sweetie cocked her head as the last of Rarity's beauty tools placed themselves back into a cabinet. "What do you mean?"

"Well, am I just a seamstress? Does that define me?"

"Nuh-uh!" Sweetie squeaked, her voice cracking. Her hooves instinctively went to her mouth, and she grinned sheepishly at Rarity's muffled snort before continuing. "You're the editor for the local fashion newspaper, right?"

"I am," Rarity said.

"And you're good at finding gems and making really beautiful jewelry," Sweetie added. "And you're a great big sister."

A blush crossed Rarity's cheeks, and she offered Sweetie Belle a nuzzle. "And you're the best little sister I could ask for," she said. "But you're right. I do more than just make dresses. My Cutie Mark isn't even about making dresses."

She levitated up a mirror behind Sweetie Belle's head. "And yet here I am."

"Mm," Sweetie Belle said. Her eyes brightened as she saw her mane. "Wow, Rarity. It looks great!"

"I've had years of practice." Rarity put a hoof on her sister's shoulder. "You're going to look absolutely stunning one day, you know," she said. “The Colts will be falling all over you.”

Sweetie Belle blushed.

"And it won't be for your Cutie Mark," Rarity added.

“Though that would help,” Sweetie said. She gave Rarity a thin smile. “Too bad it doesn’t seem to be good for anything.”

 "Well," Rarity said, “think about it. Does a Cutie Mark give one instant mastery of a skill?"

Sweetie Belle raised an eyebrow. "Does it make you the best at that talent?" Rarity clarified. "Would a foal with a Mark for, say, water magic be better at it than a unicorn who had been studying that field for years, even if his talent was in a different field entirely?"

Sweetie Belle's mouth formed a wide 'o'. Rarity chuckled.

"Oh," Sweetie Belle said. "So...then what's a Cutie Mark for?"

"It's a reminder," Rarity said. "Cutie Marks aren't there to give you instant mastery, or to force you into a particular path. They don't give a pony superpowers, either - though goodness knows I've wished for them on more than one occasion." They both giggled at that. "No; a Cutie Mark is a reminder of what you love to do. What you value. What you want to make of your life."

"Or one part of your life?" Sweetie asked.

"Exactly." Rarity smiled. "You're getting it already."

"So..." Sweetie's voice trailed off. "So just having a Cutie Mark for singing didn't guarantee me a spot on the chorus, did it?” Her eyes darted down toward the ground. Her cheeks were more than a little rosy.

"I'm afraid not," Rarity said. "Other species - donkeys, cows, buffalo - may sometimes wish that they had Cutie Marks, but they're really not all that helpful. One can earn a Cutie Mark for a certain talent and then spend a lifetime neglecting it. One can do the opposite and focus on little other than their special talent, though at the expense of all other strengths. Some ponies enjoy having that choice taken away from them. Some make more of it than others."

"Like who?"

"Applejack, for example," Rarity said. "Her Cutie Mark is for apples, yet she's a devoted sister, a rodeo winner, and - dare I say - an excellent cider maker."

A thin line of drool slipped out of Sweetie's mouth at the mention of cider, but she caught it before it could even touch her chin. "And Twilight's good at teaching, and astronomy, right? And Rainbow Dash is good at weather control and writing?"

The memory of one of Dash's more colorful "books" left a twitch in Rarity's eye, but she nodded nonetheless. "Yes… to most of those, at least. Perhaps we'll leave the writing off of that list, though."

"Okay!"

"But," Rarity went on, "you are absolutely correct. And there's nothing wrong with choosing what to do with your Cutie Mark. A special talent doesn't determine anything for you - it doesn't close any doors. At the same time, however..."

Sweetie Belle finished the thought for her. "It doesn't open any?" she said.

"Exactly," Rarity said. "Every pony has to work hard to improve themselves. A Cutie Mark can provide guidance, but it can't make you a master of a craft."

"Or win you an audition," Sweetie said.

"I'm afraid not."

Rarity thought for a moment. "Let me show you something." She replaced the mirror and brush on the table and turned to open the door. After a moment, Sweetie Belle thumped onto the ground beside her and followed Rarity back into her room.

Or not. Rarity took a right turn instead of a left, pushing open the door to her Inspiration Room.

Once inside, she smiled fondly at the line of autumn ensemble dresses she'd been working on, but they weren't what she was here for today. Behind her, Sweetie gasped - she hadn’t seen this lineup yet. Rarity had to admit that it brought a warm feeling to her chest to see Sweetie's obvious interest in her gowns; if there was one thing she'd done right, it was to give that filly a proper fashion sense. Rarity chuckled to herself as she moved to open one of the many closets that were clustered off to the side of the room.

"Do you know what I keep in here?" Rarity asked as she leaned into the closet, peeking past a row of old jackets. A light flickered on the edge of her horn, casting a light, airy glow about the walls of the closet.

"No," Sweetie Belle said - mostly honestly, Rarity suspected. "Well, there was that one time when we wanted to hold a fashion show, so I looked in one or two of the drawers. But we didn't take anything, honest!"

Rarity turned back to her with a smirk. "At least you had good taste," she said, pushing her mane back over her shoulder. "Now, let's see. Where did I keep it? Ah! Here it is."

She withdrew a small brown box from the closet and set it on the carpet. A light cloud of dust poofed into the air from the impact, though the box itself gave only a small thump.

"What is it?" Sweetie Belle asked.

The cover floated off, encased in light-blue magic. "Take a look," Rarity said.

Sweetie Belle leaned over and frowned. "It's...a dress?"

"My first dress," Rarity said. She offered Sweetie Belle a wan smile. "Oh, the outfits I designed after finding my Cutie Mark were pleasant enough, but those were gaudy, theatre pieces. This was my first attempt at a real dress - a piece of art, as it were.

"I worked for days, sewing a piece on and cutting a thread off whenever I could spare the time from schoolwork. I kept it neatly folded in this very box every night when I finished, and took it out every afternoon when I got home from school."

Rarity's horn flickered again, and the dress hovered into the air. It was a moment before Sweetie Belle realized what she was looking at. It was another moment before Rarity heard the inevitable snicker.

"No, don't feel bad," she said. She gave Sweetie a grin, who currently had a hoof over her mouth and a mirthful look in her eyes. "It's horrid, isn't it? Absolutely dreadful."

Sweetie giggled a bit at that and let her hoof fall back to the ground. "Can I see it?"

"Of course you may." The aura around the dress changed from blue to green. The cloth turned and twisted in the air as Sweetie inspected it, though Rarity noticed proudly that she was taking evident care to avoid damaging it or stressing the seams.

"It's so..." Sweetie was evidently choosing her words carefully. "Small."

"It is, isn't it?" Rarity asked. The "dress," if it could even be called that, was far too small for all but the tiniest dolls to fit inside. The neck was like a pinhole. The haunches were comically oversized. The cloth was made of two different fabrics. "I thought it'd give it a bit more of a 'pop'," Rarity said, chuckling. "A pity patchwork wasn't in that year." The lace had been poorly attached, proving on closer inspection to have been simply glued on. With foal's glue!

"Where'd you even get this many gems?" Sweetie Belle asked, snickering. "Is the dress supposed to be made out of diamonds?"

Rarity sniffed loudly - and then broke down laughing. "My first outfits used gemstones quite well, I thought. Therefore, I reasoned, if gemstones made things look nicer, then more gemstones would make them look even better!" She wiped an eye, her shoulders still shaking with - dare she say - guffaws. "A pity I'd not yet learned the word subtlety."

"It is kinda bad," Sweetie said. The magic faded around the dress, and she hoofed it back to Rarity. "But you're so good at making dresses!"

"I am," Rarity said with a wink, "now. But I wasn't always this good - no, it took years of hard work to make enough clothes of quality to even begin to afford the Boutique. What was it that Rainbow Dash told Scootaloo the last time we all went camping?"

"Ooh," Sweetie Belle said. She closed her eyes and held up a hoof. "Sucking at something," she said, doing her best to imitate Rainbow's coarser voice, "is the first step to getting really good at something."

Rarity beamed. "The tone is a bit too rough," she said, "but the idea is there, is it not?"

"So just because I have a Cutie Mark for singing doesn't mean I should expect to make every audition," Sweetie said. "Just like you weren't a perfect seamstress right after getting your mark."

"Exactly," Rarity said. The box levitated back into the closet, the doors swinging shut after it. "So, what are you going to do now?"

Sweetie's grin threatened to stretch right off of her face. "I think I'm going to go practice some music."

"Perhaps some more tea would be in order, then?" Rarity asked. "To help soothe and calm your throat."

"That sounds...great." Before Rarity knew it, Sweetie had her hooves wrapped around her neck and was squeezing tight. "Thanks, Rarity. For everything. I love you, big sis."

Rarity started, but then a soft smile spread across her face. "And I love you." She stroked Sweetie Belle's mane. They just stood there together, Rarity humming softly, for a minute more.

And then they both went down to make some tea.