"There is no bloodier war than the one you've waged against yourself."

If Rarity were to ask Twilight Sparkle what forbidden knowledge meant, she had no doubt the alicorn would respond with precise immediacy.

"Forbidden knowledge," she'd say, using the carefully modulated voice which nearly mimicked reading aloud from a book, "refers to books or information that has been restricted from the general public due to a wide amount of reasons, typically political."

And if Rarity were to lazily brush her hoof through the spines of several encyclopedia volumes; if she were to take out the corresponding one, and gently turn the pages until she reached the proper one, she knew she'd read the very same thing Twilight had just recited.

Books whose inkstained pages had been hidden away from wandering eyes, whose carefully thought out arrangement of twenty-six letters had been reserved solely for the eyes of the rare lucky few — or, perhaps, had been reserved for the eyes of those who could not see.

She'd heard once, maybe during a luncheon in Canterlot, or more likely one of her romance novels, that ponies were much like books; troves of information written down in long gazes, etched out in wrinkles on the skin, underlined in the thousands of strands of hair that made up a coat, all joining together to create a story.

"If you were a book," Rarity said, her spoon clinking against the edge of the teacup, her stir as lazy as it was deceptively calculated, her eyes gently moving upwards towards the mare in front, "what book would you be?"

This was an odd question to ask, particularly when it was still just the… ninth? tenth? question she'd asked a pony she hadn't seen in months — though goodness, it felt like years, centuries, eternities that separated them.

Twilight's eyes averted Rarity's, instead getting lost in the crowd surrounding them, a seamless ocean of designers, divas, mares and stallions with fake smiles that had become Rarity's background since her "temporary" move to Manehattan.

"When are you coming back home?"

A sigh brushed the air, and a tired smile followed soon after. Three more clinks of a spoon before Rarity looked away from the alicorn. "I think," she said, gaze resting on a particularly ghastly green dress being worn by a particularly aggravating mare she'd come to frequent, "you would be one of those overly-complicated magic books you so love to pour yourself into. Magic Aerodynamics, was it?"

A click of the tongue, the familiar annoyed gesture drawing a genuine smile from the unicorn.

"Magic thermodynamics," Twilight corrected with the exasperation of somepony constantly correcting others, and Rarity found she didn't regret getting it wrong on purpose. Anything to change the topic and draw out the familiarity between them. "And stop avoiding the question."

"Pardon me,  I am not avoiding anything. I am simply delaying," Rarity corrected, and her eyes finally met Twilight's. She fluttered her eyelashes, and continued, "Besides, it's terribly rude to answer a question when you haven't even answered mine."

Twilight didn't need to answer, really.

Rarity already knew what kind of book Twilight would be.

She was one of those books at the end of the bookcase, or perhaps in the middle, far away from being first choice, but once you'd read through it, once you'd been wrapped up in this book that was awkward as it was fascinating, it instantly became your first choice. There were books that reading over and over always yielded the same results, but Twilight was one of those books that each new lecture brought some new discovery.

"I don't know," Twilight replied, though the tone meant she did, in fact, know. She just didn't want to bother with that. "Well, maybe I'd be Starswirl The Bearded’s Theory on Magic Volumes." Or maybe she did.

Rarity raised her eyebrow. "You're a book on magic books?" she asked, letting out a giggle. "Heavens, Twilight, isn't that a bit too much?"

Twilight's face flushed. "That's not what I meant! I mean that I'd be… one of the many volumes!" she blurted out, rolling her eyes, the playful smile not lost on Rarity's sight. It disappeared just as fast as it came, though, and Twilight's gaze lowered, as did her ears. "Rarity… when are you coming back home?"

Rarity brought the rim of the cup to her lips, taking a long, drawn-out sip before putting it back down and finally answering, "Home? Well, as I thought you knew, I’m taking a train back home to Manehattan tomorrow."

"That’s not what I meant, and you know it," Twilight replied immediately, seeming offended by the response. "Manehattan isn't home, and neither is Canterlot, for that matter."

It was funny, especially, that she of all ponies said that. When had the roles reversed? When had Twilight become the Ponyvillian, and when had Rarity become…

Memories filled Rarity's head, of luncheons turned into battlefields where words were knives and passive-aggressive remarks where poison drops to be served in everypony's tea. Of course, that was just Canterlot.

Manehattan was much, much worse.

At least Canterlot ponies had the decency of playing almost fair, whereas Manehattan truly lived up to the saying “everypony for themselves”.  It was easy sometimes to want to fall for their games, become just another unscrupulous player in a game Rarity had long ago stopped loving.

“Pardon me, but I do believe I know where my home is, thank you very much.”

She heard Twilight click her tongue again, and Rarity felt some misguided pleasure out of it. She knew very well her words stung, but she wanted them to sting, she wanted Twilight to keep insisting home was back in Ponyville. Maybe if Twilight insisted long enough, Rarity would feel like it was enough to cave in and go home.

“Fine.”

Twilight looked around, apparently in no mood to argue, her narrowed eyes fixed on the distant dancing couples. Rarity knew she was lying, though. She knew Twilight Sparkle was as stubborn as she was smart, and if she wanted, she could have counted the seconds before Twilight tried again.

“Why are you acting like this?”

“This is how it is, Twilight,” Rarity replied, looking away and placing the spoon on the small plate, lifting the cup to her lips and taking a sip. “Everypony worth their salt has long ago forgotten or discarded what lies beneath the mask.  Except Fancy Pants, I suppose. Dearest Fancy doesn’t give a damn about what others think.”

“And since when have you?”

“Since when have I not?”

Twilight didn’t reply, taken aback by the sharp stare. Silence loomed in between them, interrupted when a well-dressed beige mare stepped towards Twilight, bowing down and greeting her. To Rarity, however, the mare did not offer even a passing glance.

Rarity did likewise, waiting until the mare left so as to continue speaking.

“This is who I am, Twilight. How quickly you’ve forgotten,” she said, an edge to her voice. Was it there intentionally or not, she couldn’t quite tell. “The belle of the ball, the beauty of the hour, the socialité depending on the approval of others, c’est moi, ma chère.”

And, in the depths of her being, Rarity shared Twilight’s look of disgust.

“This isn’t you, Rarity,” Twilight said, gravely, as if Rarity’s behaviour were some terrible illness. And it was, and how Rarity hated it. “What happened?”

“The mirror broke,” Rarity replied, looking away. “Shattered to pieces, and along with it did my love for this world. You’d have thought my little incidents with Suri would have taught me better, but goodness, I am a stubborn mule, am I not?” She paused and corrected, “Wait, on second thought, I take back the mule bit.”

“The mirror broke?”

Rarity didn’t reply. She narrowed her eyes, surveying the dozens of wolves in sheep costumes, knowing very well how to distinguish them since, after all, she was no different.

“That mare that came by earlier.”

Twilight blinked. “That mare? You mean the one who greeted me?” she asked, confused. “What about her?”

“That was Twist Scarf.”

Recognition flashed through Twilight’s eyes. “Twist Scarf? You mean the Twist Scarf? From your letters?” She looked back towards the crowd, expression mixed between confusion and offense. “But—! She didn’t even acknowledge you!”

Twist Scarf, as Rarity had explained in several letters month ago, was an up-and-coming designer who’d been living in Manehattan several years longer than Rarity. She was, perhaps, the second friend Rarity had in Manehattan besides Coco Pommel, and my, Twist had really outdone herself.

She’d helped Rarity settle in, toured her around the city, invited her to dinner parties, and had been an absolute doll of a mare. Rarity, feeling as though she’d found a new best friend — seventh one, as Pinkie had reminded in her reply — completely raved about her in her letters to Twilight, Fluttershy, and just about everypony.

“Well,” she said, taking another sip of tea so as to ease the bitterness in her voice, “I got invited to a fashion designers party by the Manehattan Elite. She didn’t, and it seems that was reason enough to drop me off the face of the earth. Fancy that.”

When she finished, she expected Twilight to back her up. In fact, she wanted Twilight to do so. For once, she wanted to abuse her friendship to an alicorn, and have said alicorn furiously walk up to that… that traitor and tell her what was what.

Except, she didn’t.

“That happens, Rarity,” Twilight replied instead, just like that, dispensing wisdom as if she weren’t an awkward bookworm, but an age old alicorn who’d gone through all walks of life.

“Hah! That’s rich coming from you, Miss Princess of Friendship,” Rarity shot back, hurt by Twilight’s complete lack of sympathy to her plight. It was this same hurt that smothered the voice warning her against taking out her frustrations on her friend. “Honestly, you’d think you’d have rushed off to ‘fix’ this, but I can see I was wrong.”

If Twilight was offended, Rarity was grateful she hid it.

“It’s the truth, Rarity. That’s just how it is,” Twilight simply replied. She paused, and Rarity could hear her hesitation over continuing. “Not everypony will be happy for you when good things happen. It's a lesson you have to learn, even if it hurts. And besides, not everypony is like that."

Not everypony is like that, Rarity mocked in her head; mocked because she knew Twilight was right, and she loathed that she was. She was always right, even when she wasn’t, and for once, Rarity wanted her petty concerns to be right, too. Yes, they are. Some just don't act on it.

“What about your new fashion line? The one you were doing on Equestria... what was it? The ‘Cities of Equestria’? How's that going?" Twilight asked, her expression lightening in her attempt at changing the topic.

Rarity lifted her spoon and stirred, stirred, stirred. "It's going," she said, or rather lied, because though it weighed down her heart, she'd long abandoned her silly dreams of… "Slower than I'd like, but you know how it is," she added, because she found she lacked the heart to tell Twilight the truth.

"But it's going!" Twilight exclaimed, and the smile on her face, oh, how it stung. That smile, like she'd finally found her Rarity, and yet really she was finding a lie. "Which ones have you done so far?"

"A few," Rarity replied, waving her hoof in a dismissive motion. "Ponyville, Manehattan, the big ones for now."

It wasn't really a lie if one counted abandoned sketches as progress.

Twilight giggled. "Rarity, Ponyville doesn't really count as a city, you know?"

Rarity waved her off. "Details, details! In any case, what about you, Twilight?" she asked, pressed to change the topic, to avoid having to tell more lies. "Any new friendship missions? New assignments from Celestia?"

"Not really. The Princess asked me to do some research on Starswirl's Lost Volumes, but that's mostly it." She furrowed her brow, humming. "As for friendship missions, Pinkie and Fluttershy had one a few weeks ago in Hollow Shades. You haven't had any..." She faltered, and with a childish smile continued, "Cutiemark flashes? Have you?"

Rarity sighed. "No. Even that has been taken away from me."

Twilight frowned. "Rarity, will you stop—"

"Rarity!"

She turned around, her gaze tearing away from Twilight's displeasure, and landed on Seamless Fit, one of the most revered designers in the industry. Her presence had become a constant in Rarity's life, and her opinions were held to highest esteem. What she said went, whether Rarity agreed or not.

"Ah, Seamless!" she greeted, and she was grateful to Twilight for having the tact to wipe away the frown and just be another actor in that night full of liars. "I was wondering when you'd make an appearance!"

"I was actually wondering when I'd be leaving, These designers obviously have no idea what they’re doing," Seamless said, champagne splashing about in her glass. She then noticed Twilight’s presence and smiled, bowing down. “Ah, Princess Twilight! What an honor for you to visit us poor mortals!”

Twilight bowed her head. “Not at all! It's my pleasure. It’s always very interesting to see the different designs that turn up every year.” She turned to Rarity and with a proud smile added, "Rarity's collection is doing very well, too."

"Of course it is! I've been helping her with it, you know," Seamless said, equally beaming with pride. "Without me, she'd still be working on that ridiculous 'landscapes of Equestria' collection."

At that moment, Rarity wished with all her heart that she had in her possession Starswirl's time spell so she could go back in time and stop Seamless from putting her hoof in her mouth.

"Ridiculous?" came Twilight's confused voice, and oh, suddenly that pony over there was terribly fascinating to Rarity. "You mean the 'Cities of Equestria' collection?"

"Yes, that one! Rarity was telling me yesterday how silly it was, and if that's what she feels, I trust her judgement enough to agree. Besides, her talent is much better served by doing the Pop Culture collection. It's all the rage now, you know?"

"Oh, really? She said it was ridiculous? I didn't know she thought that," Twilight said, and Rarity didn't have to look to know Twilight was staring right at her. "That's too bad."

"Not at all! If she feels that way, then she should pursue her true calling!" Seamless insisted. "She said it herself, no pony with taste would ever be inte—"

"Darling!" Rarity interrupted, turning towards the mare while still avoiding Twilight's gaze. "Seamless, darling, dearest, weren't you telling me yesterday you needed to speak to Thin Fabric? I saw her coming in a dozen minutes ago."

"Oh! Right you are!" Seamless exclaimed, turning around to the crowd. She turned back to Twilight and bowed down, afterwards nodding at Rarity. "It was a pleasure. I hope to see you again later tonight!"

Rarity watched in absolute silence as she trotted away, feeling relieved that she'd managed to avert more disastrous remarks. Of course, she could have been… a bit more subtle with sending her off on her way, but too late now.

It took a moment, but finally she gathered up the courage to turn around to her friend.

Though Twilight didn't say anything at first, she really didn't need to do so. No words were needed to express her thoughts, especially when her unimpressed, penetrating stare was doing a marvelous  job at it. It felt like years, centuries, eons passed by, ticking away with the clink of Rarity's spoon against the tea cup.

"Well?" Rarity eventually said, trying to use as much nonchalance as she could.

"Well? Well what?" Twilight replied, every syllable laced with poisonous anger.

"Aren't you going to say anything?" Rarity continued, looking away towards the ponies in the distance. "Can we get this over with, please? Unless you really have nothing to say on the matter, in which case I—"

"So, your 'Cities of Equestria' line is ridiculous?" Twilight interrupted, eyes fixed on Rarity. "Huh."

Damn that Seamless. Damn her and her terrible timing.

"I didn't really mean that, Twilight. And besides, I'm sorry to say this, but she's right. Ponies aren't interested in silly designs based off towns and cities, they want fashion trends based on what's in right now!" Rarity said, equally lacing her tone with irritation.

"And? Since when do you follow trends?" Twilight asked, and she leaned back, as if reassessing a previously mistaken perception.

"I don't!" Rarity snapped back, because she felt personally offended, attacked, slapped in the face by Twilight's insinuation. The fashion world might have been a vicious place, but she'd be damned to follow its path.

And yet, a voice inside her whispered, the sketches for Cities are stashed away in a drawer, aren't they?

"It's what they want, Twilight," Rarity said, finally, hoping to put an end to this argument.

Twilight did not waver.

"Oh, I'm sure it is. Who's ‘they’ by the way?" she asked, because Twilight Sparkle was a pony of learning, very much so that she didn't care for vague accusations, but hard facts and numbers.

This way of being, of thinking, and existing of Twilight irritated Rarity beyond measure. Not always, of course, because Twilight's extensive deconstruction of everything was quite helpful in the times Rarity needed help solving a problem.

But this time… this time Rarity was the problem, she was the one being deconstructed, picked apart, shown the facts and Rarity loathed it because in the depths of her being, her own consciousness echoed the underlying question in Twilight's statement.

Who's they, Rarity? Is it they, or is it you?

Rarity gritted her teeth, gesturing towards the crowd. "I don't know! Them!"

"And I assume you've asked every single one if they agree then?" Twilight asked, and it angered Rarity so much that she did. It angered her, this barrage of questions whose answers they both already knew.

"Twilight, what is the point of this?!" Rarity demanded, finding herself torn between wanting to leave the table or continuing a conversation as pointless as it was frustrating. It was some type of sadomasochism, wasn't it? Because she knew Twilight cared for her, she knew Twilight would sit there and fight Rarity's own war, this awful self-validating method where everypony was to go down with her.

"I'm worried about you, Rarity!" Twilight continued, betraying not whether she knew what was going on. "This isn't like you! You were so happy before and—"

"I was happy before I realized what exactly this industry is!" Rarity shot back, and there was some reprieve at finally voicing her thoughts. She gestured towards the stallion and mares, the fashionistas gathered not to celebrate each other, but to celebrate how better they were than the others. "This is a contest! A contest to see who's better! To see who has more sales, to see who has better reviews, to see who's the best! That's all that really matters!"

"No," Twilight replied, and though her voice quieted, her tone was never more stern. "You're the one who thinks that! You're the one who's turning this into a contest!"

"That is not true!" Rarity shot back, even though it stung, even though Twilight's words clawed at her, teared her up inside because damn her, she was right, she was right, and yet Rarity would rather crash and burn than admit to it.

"You didn't used to care about this!" Twilight mercilessly continued. "All you used to care about was creating things that made you happy! All you wanted was to be creative, and how is any of this even remotely creative?! Why would you do what you think other ponies want you to do?"

"Because I'm not here to be creative, Twilight Sparkle," Rarity all but hissed. "I'm here to do business."

And now Twilight fell silent, and now she leaned back and she regarded Rarity with a humorless expression, dancing across the thin line between concern and exasperation. For a moment, Rarity almost flinched, almost apologized for her outburst, but in a game of chicken where her pride was involved, Rarity would never blink first.

"Wow. Alright, then, Rarity," Twilight said, getting up from her chair. "Have fun with the rest of your dinner, and have a safe trip back home to Manehattan."

And just like, taking with her the last word, Twilight turned around, walked away and Rarity let her.

Rarity, bitterness and regret at war within herself, watched Twilight walk away, and though part of her urged herself to get up and go after the alicorn, to apologize and beckon her best friend back to the table, Rarity held her tongue.

She had made her bed, and she'd be damned not to lie in it.