“So darling, what do you think? Got another round in you?”

“Haha, I’d love to Rarity, but I think I need to get back to work.”

“Well, you know what I think, but I won’t try to stop you. But I’ll see you later?”

“Definitely!”

“Twilight, if you don’t put that book down and come and have some tea, then I’m going to have to physically intervene.”

“Just two more pages,” Twilight whined, her hooves desperately slipping off the book as Rarity levitated it away.

“No, not two more pages, you’ve been studying now for days. You can spare five minutes for some tea.”

Twilight pouted, and said pout only intensified when Rarity softly giggled at her. With a reluctant groan, she got up from her desk, then immediately seized when the force of several day’s worth of studying assaulted her body.

“What’s wrong dear? Dealing with some feelings of regret?” Rarity said, looking over as she set out two teacups.

“Ha. Ha.” Twilight replied humourlessly, as she gingerly allowed her muscles to rediscover the act of moving her across the room.

She walked over to the table and cautiously plopped down on a cushion. She tried to look very stern, very austere. An appropriate scowl for a scholar interrupted in the midst of very important research. However, sadly it wouldn’t stick. The cushion was too comfortable, the tea smelt too good, the lightly teasing looks Rarity were giving her too amusing.

Eventually, a smile crawled onto her lips while Rarity poured them each a cup.

“So, what bold new area of study is keeping Miss Sparkle so busy?”

“Ugh, no new areas. Very old ones, unfortunately,” Twilight grumbled, “It occurs to me, that when one doesn’t exercise a muscle, it atrophies. So why should the mind be any different? As frustrating as it is, I just have found myself in need to re-exercise some muscles that haven’t gone through the appropriate motions in quite a while.”

“I believe, in the midst of all that over-intellectualising, there might lie an actual point,” Rarity gasped, teasing, faux shock dancing in her wide eyes. She slid Twilight a cup of the brew, likely chamomile by the scent, while Twilight scowled at her.

“Fine. I forgot how to do calculus. Happy?”

“Delighted, darling.”

“It’s just… you don’t really need maths when you’re studying friendship! It’s a lot of behavioural observation, and history, and mythology! And then suddenly Princess Celestia’s assigned me some physical chemistry research and I’m staring at an expression I need to integrate, totally blank! How in Tartarus did that happen?”

“Well, you said it yourself darling,” Rarity replied. She took a deep sip of her tea while idly waving her hoof, searching for the right words, “Issues with the mind.”

“I’ll take your word for it,” Twilight replied sourly, “I just wish my stupid brain hadn’t decided to get rid of something so important.”

“Well, there’s a lot we all wish we could change, Twilight. Still, I do hope you’ll be coming to Pinkie’s later.”

“That’s one thing I’m definitely not going to miss. I’ve planned enough time.”

Eventually, a comfortable silence overtook them. For all their verbal sparring, Rarity was someone that Twilight felt comfortable to just sit and not talk to every now and then. But as the moment continued, a peculiar sense of deja-vu began to gnaw at the corners of Twilight’s mind.

It made sense, though. The two of them had shared literally hundreds of cups of tea like this. But still, it confused Twilight. Why here? Why now of all times? She bit her lip, watching as Rarity finished her cup.

“So darling, what do you think? Got another round in you?” she asked, gesturing to the still very full pot with a wink.

“Haha, I’d love to Rarity, but… have, uh, have we been here before?”

“What do you mean, dearie? I mean we’ve had a lot of these tea dates,” Rarity asked, cocking her head.

“No I know, I just mean… have we been here before? Do you know what I mean?”

Rarity stared for a second, giving Twilight a look that suggested she very much did not know what Twilight meant.

“I think you should probably have a bit more tea, darling.”

And as Twilight stared, she did want more tea. She did want Rarity to stay. It felt important, it almost felt like the most important thing in her life up until this point. Her heart hammered in her chest as her mouth fought to think of the right way to say it, until finally, she realised there was no other option.

She had to get her work done.

“Haha, I’d love to Rarity, but I think I need to get back to work.”

“Well, you know what I think, but I won’t try to stop you. But I’ll see you later?”

“Definitely!”

Twilight chewed her lip, everything feeling wrong as Rarity shrugged and got up to leave. The two shared a quick goodbye, but before she moved through the threshold, Rarity stopped. She turned, and fixed Twilight with a blank, inscrutable stare.

But, before Twilight could ask what was wrong, the moment passed and Rarity left. As soon as the door shut, Twilight turned to stare at the clock. And she didn’t quite understand why, but from the moment the door had clicked, she’d begun to count under her breath.

“15… 14… 13… 12… 11… 10…

“Twilight, if you don’t put that book down and come and have some tea, then I’m going to have to physically intervene.”

“Just two more pages,” Twilight whined, her hooves desperately slipping off the book as Rarity levitated it away.

“No, not two more pages, you’ve been studying now for days. You can spare five minutes for some tea.”

Twilight pouted, and said pout only intensified when Rarity softly giggled at her. She got up, and seized up when the force of the strongest deja-vu she’d ever experienced hit her square in the chest. She’d been here before, she’d been right here before.

“Rarity,” she began, looking around at the library as if she might detect something out of place, “Did you come around yesterday?”

“Are you joking, darling? No one’s seen you for days!” Rarity gasped, scandalised, “Though I must say, I’m flattered to be a part of your study-induced exhaustion hallucinations. What did we do? Discuss the mysteries of the cosmos?”

“Uh, we had tea?” Twilight lamely offered, cringing when Rarity began to laugh.

“Darling, where’s your ambition? In one’s mind, anything is possible. Do dream a little grander next time, won’t you?”

“I… I think I might need to get some sleep, Rarity. I feel strange,” Twilight said shakily, but Rarity didn’t seem to listen. Instead, she just hummed, pouring them two cups of tea. Likely chamomile by the scent.

“Rarity, did you hear me? I don’t really feel right.”

“What’s wrong dear? Dealing with some feelings of regret?” Rarity replied, not looking over.

Twilight chewed her lip, and went to say once again how she probably needed to go to bed, how she was tired. How she felt exhausted. How she felt strange. How her heart hammered. How something told her this wasn’t right.

But she didn’t do that.

She walked to the table, and sat down on one of her cushions.

“So, what bold new area of study is keeping Miss Sparkle so busy?”

“I’m relearning calculus. I’d… I’d forgotten how to do it. I’ve never forgotten how to do something before, not that fundamental anyway. The princess said this might happen when you focus too much on one area of work. I think that’s why she assigned me such a heavily mathematical research project.

“She said, ‘The mind is a confusing tool, more complicated than the whole body which contains it. And while we might want to fight its mechanisms, we must realise that we are our minds. All their flaws, all their strengths, all their triumphs, and traumas’.”

“I believe, in the midst of all that over-intellectualising, there might lie an actual point,” Rarity gasped, teasing, faux shock dancing in her wide eyes. She slid Twilight a cup of the brew, likely chamomile by the scent, while Twilight looked over at her, horrified.

“What did you say?”

Rarity didn’t reply, and just stared at Twilight. Patiently waiting for a response.

“I think… I think the princess just meant that minds are complex. That we might wish we could move past them, to just excise those bits we don’t like…” Twilight looked down at her tea, and felt her stomach drop for reasons that eluded her, “But we can’t.”

She took a sip of her tea, and recoiled when she found that it was only just lukewarm.

“Are you okay with this tea?” she gasped.

“Delighted, darling.”

“What is happening?” Twilight muttered, putting her teacup down, “Rarity, I feel strange, something’s wrong. Why is this happening?”

“Well, you said it yourself darling,” Rarity replied. She took a deep sip of her tea while idly waving her hoof, searching for the right words, “Issues with the mind.”

“Issues with the… Rarity, I think I need to go to sleep. I think... something’s wrong. I don’t like feeling like this, I don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

“Well, there’s a lot we all wish we could change, Twilight. Still, I do hope you’ll be coming to Pinkie’s later.”

“But… Pinkie’s party was cancelled, right? I thought Pinkie cancelled it? Pinkie cancelled it because something went wrong… didn’t she? I… I can’t remember properly.”

But Rarity didn’t respond, she just sat there in silence. Even as Twilight said her name multiple times, she just carried on sipping her tea. She looked comfortable. Happy, even. Couldn’t she hear Twilight? Couldn’t she see Twilight was scared? Because Twilight was scared. She didn’t think she’d ever been more scared.

Because she needed to go to sleep, and she had been here before.

“So darling, what do you think? Got another round in you?” she asked, gesturing to the still very full pot with a wink.

“No… haven’t you been listening to me Rarity. I need to go to sleep,” Twilight whined, her voice thin and reedy. She sounded like a scared child, she thought to herself.

“Well, you know what I think, but I won’t try to stop you. But I’ll see you later?”

“Wait, Rarity, you don’t have to go. You could stay here! I just need to get some sleep but… I want you to stay. I feel like you should stay. Just… Rarity… I don’t want to… I don’t want you to… will you please stay.” Twilight rambled, her words muddling and becoming less coherent as Rarity got up, heedless of what Twilight was saying, and headed towards the door.

Tears began to brim in Twilight’s eyes, her heart threatened to stop in her chest. Because she had been here before, and she wanted Rarity to stay. And for a moment it looked like her prayers had been answered, when Rarity turned, halfway out of the door, and fixed Twilight with an unreadable stare.

“Oh darling,” Rarity said sweetly, “I think we both know it’s a bit too late for that, don’t we?”

With that, Rarity left, and as soon as the door shut Twilight bolted. She ran to the stairs, desperately clambering up them to get to her bedroom. And once she reached it, she slammed the door and locked it before diving under the covers.

But even when frayed and stressed, her mind was sharp. And she counted the fifteen seconds even though she didn’t want to. And when the countdown finally reached zero, Twilight began to hyperventilate when she heard the sounds of commotion start from outside her window and the crashing and smashing of wood and worse and finally then the screams began to-

“Twilight, if you don’t put that book down and come and have some tea, then I’m going to have to physically intervene.”

Twilight stared as the book was magicked away. She tried to grab onto it with her hooves. She found purchase, but Rarity’s magic was so strong. It felt like a force of nature, like something that couldn’t be resisted by any mortal means. So Twilight simply watched it after it was wrenched from her hooves.

“No, not two more pages, you’ve been studying now for days. You can spare five minutes for some tea.”

Against her will, tears began to bead in Twilight’s eyes and her vocal chords twisted, pushing a rough sob from her muzzle.

“What’s wrong dear? Dealing with some feelings of regret?”

Twilight got up and blankly walked over to the cushions as Rarity giggled at her. She plopped down unceremoniously on the cushions. She then looked over at Rarity, opened her mouth, and spoke with her friend in perfect tandem.

“So, what bold new area of study is keeping Miss Sparkle so busy?” two voices asked, and one of them began to recede into a series of hacking sobs.

Rarity’s smile only seemed to grow wider.

“I think I might have worked out why I feel like this has happened before. It has, hasn’t it? I don’t know whether I want you to tell me it has, Rarity. No… no, I do know. I want you to tell me it hasn’t. I want you to tell me that I’ve been studying for too long. That I’ve just gotten overtired and that I just need to sleep. Can you do that? Can you do that without lying to me? Would it even matter if you did lie? I don’t know. I don’t think I’d care at this point.”

“I believe, in the midst of all that over-intellectualising, there might lie an actual point,” Rarity gasped, teasing faux shock dancing in her wide, accusing eyes. She slid Twilight a cup of the brew, likely chamomile by the scent, while Twilight hugged herself and shook. She reached down to try to push the teacup away. But much like her magic before, Rarity’s hooves couldn’t be stopped.

The tea was freezing cold, viscous, and dark red. Congealed, like clotted blood. Twilight looked up to see Rarity staring at her with a manic, cruel grin.

“Are you enjoying this?” Twilight asked, any semblance of accusation drowned beneath a sea of her own guilt, “Are you happy seeing me like this?”

“Delighted, darling.”

“It wasn’t my… why are you doing this?”

“Well, you said it yourself darling,” Rarity replied. She took a deep sip of her thick, disgusting tea while idly waving her hoof, as if searching for the right words, “Issues with the mind”

“Rarity, please…” Twilight moaned, her voice shaky with sobs.

“Well, there’s a lot we all wish we could change, Twilight. Still, I do hope you’ll be coming to Pinkie’s later.”

“Rarity, please!” Twilight screamed.

But Rarity didn’t respond. Instead she just wordlessly stared at Twilight. Her expression was a blank, dead mask. All taunt and accusation seemed to drain out as she just stared down at Twilight. Unmoved and uncaring of her friend’s desperate pleas.

Twilight’s heart pounded, her vision swam. She tried to formulate words, but nothing seemed to come. Nothing coherent would form. Nothing would stick. Her brain seemed to stop in place, leaving only the sensation of gnawing, desperate fear.

Issues with the mind.

Something was wrong with her. Something was wrong with all of this. She had been here before, she knew she had.

And that was why, when Rarity’s expression turned back to a ghoulish smile, some nauseating parody of the unicorn’s usual kind, warm gaze, Twilight screamed.

“I want another cup of tea!” she cried.

“So darling, what do you think? Got another round in you?” she asked, gesturing to the still very full pot with a wink.

“YES! Rarity I want you to stay! I don’t need to sleep, I don’t need to study! Please stay! Rarity I’m sorry, I wanted you to stay!”

“Well, you know what I think, but I won’t try to stop you. But I’ll see you later?”

“Rarity please!” Twilight begged. She threw herself across the table, and grabbed her friend. But there was no stopping Rarity. She got up and walked to the door, dragging Twilight with her like it was nothing. And soon, Twilight’s hooves slid from Rarity’s legs, suddenly unable to find any purchase.

“Please don’t go. Rarity I’m sorry,” Twilight sobbed, rubbing tears from her bloodshot eyes.

“Oh darling,” Rarity said sweetly, halfway out the door, “I think we both know it’s a bit too late for that, don’t we?”

The door shut, and Twilight didn’t need her clock. She stood on shaking hooves, her mouth agape, her face a shocked mask of horror as she slowly walked to the door. And when the countdown ended, when she finally reached the place by which Rarity had just left this place, she heard a terrible, sickening crashing from outside.

Twilight pushed open the door.

“Oh my god!” some horrified voice shrieked. It was soon joined by a chorus of others. A multitude of screams, a terrible, dissonant symphony and anguished wails.

Twilight peered from her door, surveying the wreckage. The carriage in smashed pieces, the splinters, the wood, the dark, crimson pools. So much blood. She didn’t know ponies could contain so much liquid.

But all of it seemed secondary to the ruined form of her friend. There was no way she would survive, anyone could tell that. But life was cruel, and life was persistent, and there was still some of that life in her yet. Her chest took whatever final few breaths it could manage.

And those eyes, that face, the only part of her unspoiled. It all found Twilight, locking eyes amid panicked crowds. And even though she wanted to go to her friend and ease her passing, Twilight had never seen a scene like this before. She seemed to work on autopilot.

There was a lot that Twilight wished she could change. But it never seemed to work.

So she just did what she’d done last time, what she did the first time, what she’d done every time, and closed the door, before walking slowly and shakily up to bed.

In her room, Twilight wasn’t aware of how much time had passed.

The noise from outside had finally receded. There weren’t any sounds to be heard anymore. There might not have ever been any sounds.

There was a creak from the corner of her room, and Twilight began to shake.

There, half-lit by moonlight, was Rarity, standing sentinel. Her face was unmarred, but her body was shattered, gouged, mangled. Still, she managed to stand there, all the same, staring at Twilight.

And like for those few moments earlier when Rarity had been so quiet, that time that was always so comfortable between them, there was no expression on her face, no accusation, no hate. There didn’t need to be.

Twilight continued to shake. Her limbs were solid, as immovable as Rarity had been. She couldn’t even look away.

All she could do was repeat that she was sorry, and hope against hope that Rarity might acknowledge it. That she might speak back. That her body might become as perfect as those eyes and that face once more. But, of course, she didn’t. She never did.

So Twilight simply let that gaze burn her, let her apologies fall on deaf, dead ears that didn’t hear anymore. She simply cried out that she wished she could change it. She simply wallowed in her misery, her wails and screams reaching a fever pitch while Rarity stood motionless.

Twilight simply lay there, waiting for it all to begin again as the faint scent of chamomile filled the air.