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Old Flames and New Sparks

by GentlemanJ

Chapter 3

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Chapter 3

Unknown to the bipedals of Ponyville, Opalescence the cat was well-regarded in the pet and animal community as an expert on human culture, specifically with regards to the aspects of appearance and garments. Of course, she didn’t really understand the need for clothes – why anybody would bother covering up the lovely perfection that was her silky soft fur was beyond comprehension – a luxurious lifetime with Rarity had taught her to note the subtle differences in what the food distributors wore.

For example, on that particular morning, Opal noticed that as her lady servant prepared for her morning run, Rarity opted for spandex instead of her typical lycra outfit. While lycra breathed better and brought back less odor to offend Opal’s delicate sensibilities, tight spandex was the fabric of choice when Rarity wanted something that molded more properly to the various anatomical areas humans seemed so preoccupied with.

The adornments continued in more similar fashions. Small diamond studs went into ears usually left unadorned. Touches of waterproof mascara and a subtle sheen of gloss adorned lips usually left au natural. Clearly, despite this being part of the lady servant’s usual routine, Rarity was taking an extra amount of care to make she was as aesthetically appealing as possible.

Opal noted the changes in passing, but really didn’t care. After all, she herself was busy grooming to meet that exceptionally fetching tomcat who’d taken up residence with the pony-obsessed girl and her candy-named roommate. Thus, it was with a typically ignored goodbye that the lady servant left the house as Opal prepared for combat.

*****

As observant as her cat had been, Rarity was decidedly less so. In all honesty, she’d hardly been aware of the various touch ups she’d made before setting out that morning. Her mind had been far too preoccupied.

She was probably being paranoid. While not quite as bad as Twilight – she hoped – Rarity knew she could be quite prone to fits of foul tempers and jealous fugues. That’s why it was so important for her to nip those feelings in the bud before they could bloom into their full, green, blossoms.

Rarity was in no way, shape or form, doubting the veracity of the marshal’s affections. The fact that Araneida Roamanov had not seen anything between them despite her observational prowess was no proof whatsoever. After all, she was clearly out of touch with the marshal and simply couldn’t appreciate the nature of their relationship.

Rarity told herself that. In fact, she’d told herself that all evening, through dinner, into her nightly rituals, and well after she’d lain down for the night. However, just like her little sister’s silly game of “don’t think about the purple hippo,” the very act of trying to ignore those uncommonly silly thoughts meant that she could not. The result was a less restful night’s beauty sleep than usual, which in turn led to the morning’s rather preoccupied Rarity. In fact, she was so well preoccupied, that the violet-haired beauty actually missed the turn off to the marshal’s practice grove and had to backtrack a good hundred paces.

As she slowed to a light jog under the verdant tree boughs, Rarity took a long, measured breath to compose herself and steady her thoughts. Miss Roamanov knew about Graves from before. That much was fact. But it didn’t mean she knew everything about him. If anyone knew about Graves and how he felt, it would be her and her alone and that was an absolute fact.

Of course, a little touching up to draw out some stronger reactions for proof never hurt, right? That’s why, why steeled with the resolve of a gladiator entering the arena, Rarity put a smile on her face and advanced till she came within earshot of the grove, then proceeded to feel resolve crumble like rotten fabric.

Panting. Grunting. Not from one, but two voices, one she knew well and another she’d only recently met.

“Come on, you can do better than that,” a gravelly baritone called out with, fast and clip as if short on breath. “Move those hips of yours.”

“I try, marshal,” the voice of an equally heaving woman replied. “But your weight makes difficulties, no?”

“Never was a problem before,” Graves rejoined amidst a rustle of grass and leaves. “Then again, maybe you’ve gotten soft.”

“Soft? In you think that, then I show you everything and–”

Bursting into the clearing with a barely strangled cry of alarm, sapphire eyes wide with horror spotted Graves on top of Araneida as their sweating, heaving bodies sat tangled together on the grassy floor.

“Oh, hey Rarity,” Graves called out. “How was your run?”

The pretty seamstress did not immediately respond, as the sight of the marshal’s well-muscled arms and torso glistening with sweat did nothing for her already addled brain. He had his pants on. Araneida too, with a trim tank top to boot. That was important, somehow, but right then she couldn’t quite say why.

“Er… fine,” she blinked, giving her head a slight shake to clear the cobwebs. “Might I ask what is going on?”

“Neida here,” Graves grunted as he threw a hard elbow downwards, “wanted to practice some ground work. Figured I’d oblige.”

Groundwork? What the hay was… ooooooohhhhhh. Fighting practice. Of course. That would explain why Graves was straddling Miss Roamanov’s stomach and raining down a veritable flurry of blows she fought hard to fend off. It also explained the sweating, panting, and other sound effects that had given Rarity such an unnecessary fright. I mean, really, what was she expecting? What else could she possibly have a man and woman with strong, well-trained bodies be doing out in the middle of a secluded wood?

“Ah, I see,” Rarity smiled, a bit hesitant as she watched Araneida return the favor with a sharp jab to the marshal’s chin. “How… nice?”

“Not really,” Graves frowned as he caught blonde woman’s arm and twisted. “You should’ve been up and out five minutes ago.”

“How could I?” the lady spy frowned as she freed the precariously convoluted limb and gave her hips a hard buck and hooked a blow towards the marshal’s temple. “You weigh down like ox.”

“Did you just call me fat?” Graves intoned, eyebrow arched as he kept his balance, settled in, and dropped an elbow towards his training partner. “I told you, twist as you buck. Up and down ain’t gonna toss off anyone.”

“Especially not now,” Araneida sighed as she fell wearily back to the ground. “Two hours with Syerivolk is hard, even for me.”

Two hours?

“Alright,” Graves shrugged as he stood up and offered her a helping hand. “Not bad today. Not the best, but not bad.”

With a knowing smile, Araneida reach out and took that hand as she pulled herself to her feet. Attired as she was, Rarity could clearly see the toned lines of her figure and the numerous scars that marred her form. There were nowhere near as many as Graves had – she doubted anything short of a patchwork quilt could match the marshal’s stitching – but there were more than enough to highlight distinct similarities between the two.

“We’d better move,” Graves said as he released the hand and turned around. “Wanna get rinsed off before heading out to Sweet Apple Acres.”

This brought Rarity back to reality.

“Oh, is Applejack hosting an event?” the pretty seamstress smiled as she stood with as much calm as she could muster. Given the tightness around her smile, it couldn’t have been as much as she’d hoped.

“Not really.” Picking up a pair of towels, Graves tossed one to his practice partner who caught it with hardly a glance. “She wanted help putting up a barn on the south pasture. Neida’s never tried it, so I’m gonna bring her along.”

Well that was all well and good. Showing friends around was a very nice gesture indeed. But what Rarity wanted to know was why hadn’t Graves asked her along as well? Not that she’d had ever particularly wanted to go to a barn raisings or even expressed anything beyond reticence and hesitation at the notion – simply too much sweat and dirt and sawdust for her tastes – it wouldn’t have hurt to invite her, right?

“You wish to join?” Araneida offered with an easy smile as she worked the towel over her full, glistening form. “Graves here says you are not so fan of hard work, but always room for more, yes?”

Not a fan of hard work? That sounded a lot like an accusations of… no, she probably didn’t mean anything by it. After all, Miss Roamanov clearly had some difficulty with words, as she’d already referred to Graves as her… lover… so aptly demonstrated. Nothing to get in a tizzy over, right?

“Don’t worry about it,” Graves answered, a small smile coming to his face as he spoke before Rarity could respond. “We’ll finish up by mid-afternoon. You can join us at Sugarcube Corners when all the sweating’s done with.”

What, so Graves didn’t think she could handle manual labor now too, was that it? He thought she was just a squishy little marshmallow despite the fact that she’d – no, no, Graves was obviously being considerate. He probably thought that it’d be easier to preempt the question than force her to make a polite refuse, which would normally be true. It was the kind of thing that a kind, considerate man would do in just such a circumstance. For anyone.

“You’re absolutely right, dear,” Rarity smiled, her composure surprisingly smooth as she tamped down on the words she really wanted to say. “I’ll be in the shop till you all finish, so just stop on by whenever you’re ready.”

“Great,” Graves smiled as he shrugged his shirt back on. “Come on Neida, the Apples are early risers. Might’ve started already.”

“Lead on,” Miss Roamanov smiled as she turned to the pretty dressmaker once more. “I look forward to spending time with you, Miss Rarity.”

“Likewise,” came Rarity’s smooth response, despite the fact that the words did not match her intentions. “Till this afternoon, then.”

“Till then.”

With that, the two combatants took off with long, loping strides that Rarity could never have hoped to keep up with. However, with even as much space as those ground-eating steps took, they didn’t move fast enough to keep Rarity from hearing Araneida’s final words.

“I like Rarity. Very cute.”

Cute, huh? Really, she wasn’t that much older, so where did she get off calling her a– no, no, no! No overreacting! No tantrums! Rarity knew she was a proper lady, and a proper lady did not go about getting miffed at the smallest slights, especially not from someone who was trying to pay her an honest compliment.

As Rarity resumed her jog back home, it was with the same, balanced demeanor that a socialite of her standing could produce at the drop of a velvet-lined hat. However, demeanor was one thing. The prickly cacophony of emotions that lay just under that calm façade were decidedly more difficult to handle.

*****

A hot shower, which usually was just the ticket for a foul mood and or frazzled nerves, didn’t do much for Rarity that morning. That’s why in brief moment of indulgence, the pretty seamstress treated herself to one of her more decadent breakfast options known to man: waffles.

Unless Sweetie Belle was staying over, Rarity almost never had waffles. Just the thought of all those extra calories from butter and sugar sent shudders right to her taut, little tummy. But right then, a good bit of delicious comfort was what she really, and the as the last, syrup-drenched morsel was neatly tucked away, Rarity was finally able to calm herself down.

So Graves was spending most of the day with Araneida. Big deal. That’s what old friends did when they saw each other, especially after long absences, right? What did it matter that the friend he happened to be spending time with happened to be in unusually close proximity with a very attractive woman?

Really, how was it that Araneida could look so good despite being a soldier? Roughing in the woods didn’t do a girl any favors, yet her golden ringlets look salon-conditioned and her skin had that subtle, healthy glow that only came from dedicated moisturizing, scars and all. And what was up with her figure? First that fitting black leather, which should have come across as tacky in the extreme but didn’t, and then that combat trouser, tank top combo? Rarity had never once felt insecure about her own figure, but with displays like that, she couldn’t help but marvel at the difference a few years of maturing really made.

But of course, it didn’t matter, right? Graves was just going about treating a friend to a good time that just happened to be something that she couldn’t be a part of. If that was the case, then she’d just let them have their fun while she stayed at home and got some work done.

Thus, the morning passed as Rarity puttered away in her workshop, sketching, snipping, sewing, and occasionally stitching. It was a productive time and once she got in the swing of things, very relaxing as well. One might even have thought that Rarity had forgotten all about her concerns over the marshal and his friend. The fact that all her designs would have looked particularly unflattering on full-figured women with color schemes of green and gold was certainly happy coincidence.

But then the morning passed. And then a quick lunch passed. And a good portion of the early afternoon as well. Still no Graves.

That was odd. Or maybe it wasn’t. Rarity wasn’t sure how long a barn raising usually took, but considering Graves had suggested a meeting at Sugarcube Corners, it couldn’t have been much past tea time, right? Unless they were going long or something else had come up? Or maybe he and Araneida had taken a detour after finishing? Or–

Before the crazy train could gather enough steam to leave the station, a chime at the door brought Rarity from her thoughts with an unusually large sigh of relief.

“Well it’s about time,” she huffed, now only slightly miffed as she went to answer the door. “Really, he couldn’t give me a time to expect him? And here I’ve been, sitting around on my lonesome, waiting for him to call. I mean, just because he has company over doesn’t mean he can go about ignoring me in such a fashion, can he?”

Satisfied that her train of thought was impeccable, Rarity settled the curls of her violet tresses, reached for the door, and smiled as she laid eyes on–

“Hiya, Rarity!”

“… Derpy?” the young lady blinked. “Why, what brings you here?” Of all the people she’d expected, the affable girl with straw-colored hair was not high on the list. Not that Derpy didn’t have fine potential of course, but when a lady’s perfectly content with hooded sweatshirts and jeans, she typically doesn’t have much use for a dress shop.

“Um… Graves!” Derpy beamed. Rarity blinked.

“You’re here because of Graves?”

“Uh huh.”

“Why?”

“Because he asked me to.”

“He asked you to what?”

“To give you something.”

“Okay?”

“…”

“…”

Rarity blinked yet again as the affable, wall-eyed girl smiled along. And then it clicked.

“Oh! Right!” Derpy gasped as she quickly reached into her sweatshirt pocket and extracted a small fold of paper. Handing it to Rarity, the wall-eyed girl gave a final jaunty wave, whipped her straw-hued hair around, and took off for the skies. She crashed into a lamp post first, but then it was clear blue skies for the happy girl.

In the meantime, Rarity unfolded the note and glanced over the contents. Glanced only, because there wasn’t much to see.

Rarity,

Graves has received assignment in Everfree Forest so cannot come back. Do not worry. I take good care of him.

Araneida

Oh no.

Oh hay no.

It.

Was.

On.

**********

Next Chapter: Chapter 4 Estimated time remaining: 1 Hour, 25 Minutes
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