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Simply Rarity (Full version)

By Somber

What does generosity mean to a Unicorn with

everything and nothing?

“Surprise!” Pinkie Pie yelled as she popped up

in front of Rarity waving her hooves as more and

more ponies filed into Sugarcube Corner. A massive

banner that said ‘Happy Birthday Twilight

Sparkle!!!!” draped across the far wall proclaimed

the event, and the balloons were a dead giveaway.

“It’s only a surprise to any pony lacking a

calendar, literacy, or sight, Pinkie Pie,” Rarity

said properly as she levitated the bright purple

wrapped bundle to the stack of packages.

“Oh, yeah.” Pinkie Pie rubbed her bright,

curly mane before she grinned, “But surprises are

funner!” Her grin was positively infectious, and

Rarity simply sighed and gave in, smiling at her

friend.

“Yes, Pinkie Pie. Surprises are more fun.”

Rarity didn’t have the heart to correct or argue as

she walked calmly over to the mare of honor and her

friends, leaving Pinkie Pie to ambush another pony

with her glee. “Twilight Sparkle. So sorry I’m

late but I had to finish a dozen silk ball gowns

for delivery this afternoon. Such a chore.”

“Oh it’s all right. I know how hard you work

to meet your deadlines,” Twilight Sparkle said

brightly.

“Business has certainly been brisk. I don’t

know when I’ve ever enjoyed such a streak,” Rarity

said as she brushed her hoof off on her sleeve and

casually examined her pony pedicure.

Applejack glanced over and gave an annoyed

little grunt, “With all that business you must be

rolling in the bits. You’re the only dress maker

in Ponyville and you’re making all those fancy duds

for rich folk in Canterlot and Manehattan.”

“I… a lady does not discuss her finances,

Applejack,” Rarity said crossly.

“Yeah, but every pony knows how I sweat for my

bits. So tell me, Rarity, how much do you bring

in? A hundred bits? Two hundred? Three?”

Applejack watched the Unicorn flush and stammer,

taking a little bit of satisfaction in Rarity’s

discombobulation. “Shoot, you might be the richest

pony in Ponyville.”

Rarity flushed brightly. “I… I am not,

Applejack!” But there were other ponies looking

her way and the white Unicorn gave a harumph, nose

in the air. “This discussion is over.”

Applejack almost got another dig in when

Fluttershy entered and Pinkie Pie started to bounce

around the bakery. “Everyone’s here! Everyone’s

here! Presents, pastries, and party games, oh my!”

The pink pony grabbed Twilight Sparkle and pushed

her towards the stack of presents on the table.

“Open them. Open open open! Mine first!”

Twilight Sparkle smiled as she tore open one

package after the other. A joke book of 101

magical pranks from Pinkie Pie. A box of candy

apples from Applejack. A picture of Rainbow Dash

signed, ‘From Equestria’s best and most awesome

flyer.’ “What?!” the pegasus retorted, hooves

spread at the flat look given by her friends. A

golden quill pot from the Princess. A small vial

of perfume from Fluttershy. Something that might

have been a Twilight Sparkle doll from the Cutie

Mark Crusaders with the note ‘No toymaker cutie

marks.’ Spike gave her one of his baby fangs which

had fallen out a few weeks ago. And from Rarity…

“A book!” Twilight Sparkle said in glee, then

frowned as she opened it up and flipped through the

pages. “An empty book?”

“It’s a journal,” Rarity said brightly,

flushing as she looked at her friend’s incredulous

looks. “You can write your thoughts down and….

Stuff.”

“Pretty chintzy gift,” Rainbow Dash said

softly. She got a few glares, but more than a few

ponies looking curiously at Rarity. “Well it is!

I mean she could have gotten Twilight Sparkle a

real gift instead of a two bit journal.”

“Yeah. What? A dozen dresses doesn’t clear

enough to get her something nice?” Applejack

taunted. But her smiled disappeared as she saw

Rarity wasn’t angry by her nettling. She was

crying! Applejack’s grin quickly melted into

concern, “Hey now… I…”

Rarity looked around at all the ponies staring

at her before she pressed her lips together. “I’m

very sorry,” she said formally to Twilight Sparkle.

“I’ll try to get you something… better.” And with

that she turned on hoof and walked slowly for the

exit. Head high, neck firm, ignore tears and no

pony would dare bring them up. Just like Madam

taught her. “If you’ll excuse me, dresses don’t

make themselves.”

“Rarity? Rarity!” Twilight Sparkle called

after her but she disappeared.

“What is wrong with her?” Rainbow Dash asked as

she fluttered in place. “Jeeze, I got to wonder

how she’s supposed to be the generous one?”

“That’s not fair, Dash. Rarity donated a lot

of her time and energy to us,” Fluttershy said

softly as she approached, “Remember all that work

she did for our dresses for the Gala?”

“Yeah, which we paid her for. Remember us

constantly telling her to keep it inside our

budget?” Rainbow Dash asked with frown.

“Actually I remember a lot of singing about

that,” Pinkie Pie said.

“I’m just saying that even if she’s generous

with her style and talent and stuff, that pony is

seriously cheap when it comes to the cash. You

can’t tell me that she doesn’t make enough with a

dress of sapphires to pay all her bills and splurge

on her friends occasionally!”

“At least she earns her money,” Applejack

countered. “When are you gonna pay your apple tab,

Rainbow Dash?”

“Eh, when I make it big with the Wonderbolts,

natch.” Rainbow Dash replied, folding her hooves

behind her head. Applejack just gave a little

grunt and shake of her head.

Twilight Sparkle looked out the window and just

frowned in concern.

“That’s very good, Diamond Tiara. You must

keep your head high, but stable. That’s it, Silver

Spoon. Lift those hooves with each step,” Rarity

said as she watched the young fillies walking in

careful circles with books balanced on their heads

through her cleared off workspace. The pair

screwed up their faces with concentration.

“What do we have to do this for? It’s sooooo

stupid!” Silver Spoon whined as she carefully

stepped over rolls of cloth, tripping up enough for

the book to tumble off her head. “Urrrgh!”

“Now now. Your parents want you to look like

proper ladies. That requires focus and

discipline,” Rarity replied primly. She lifted

the book with her magic to set atop her head and

casually strolled over each roll. The book didn’t

quiver in the slightest as Rarity turned and gave a

slow and graceful dance over the rolls of silk.

For a moment she could almost hear the music.

The door opened and admitted Twilight Sparkle.

Rarity’s hoof caught on a roll, and for a horrible

second she was about to fall. Then she recovered

with a tight twist, the book still balanced

perfectly atop her purple curls. Even Diamond

Tiara and Silver Spoon looked impressed as she

bowed her head without it shifting. “And THAT,

ladies, is why you have to practice doing this. It

is the first step towards grace.”

After that she escorted the two fillies from

Carousel Boutique and returned to Twilight Sparkle,

she let out her breath and sighed in relief, “Thank

you for saving me from that pair. Another comment

about how something was ‘stupid’ and I’d have

punted them.”

“You’re welcome, but why are you tutoring them

in the first place? Doesn’t Sweetie Belle… well…

hate them?”

“She’s with her friends tonight at

Fluttershy’s. I’m tutoring the pair as best as I’m

able on dignity and proper gracefulness as high

society requires,” Rarity said with a sigh,

“Personally I’d rather teach a diamond dog

etiquette.”

“Well why are you doing it then ?” Twilight

Sparkle asked softly.

Rarity’s eyes darted about a moment as she

fished for an excuse. “Well, it’s not precisely a

trouble. And there is some compensation from their

parents.”

“You’re tutoring them for money?” Twilight

Sparkle asked incredulously. Rarity’s curls seemed

to tighten before her eyes.

“Yes! Fine. I admit it. I’m passing on the

skills I’ve learned for money. Twenty bits a

night. Filthy lucre. There, happy?” She asked

sharply as she stomped around the work shop and

started to levitate the rolls of fabric back onto

the shelves. “I’m sorry that my gift was so

‘chintzy’. I’ll get you something appropriate

later.”

“Rarity! The gift is fine,” Twilight Sparkle

said as she magically gripped a roll of purple

cloth and interrupted Rarity’s furious cleaning.

Twilight walked around to look her in the eye and

saw the pain and worry within. “I don’t mind a

journal. ” Rarity let go of the fabric with her

magic, and Twilight Sparkle set it aside. Their

eyes met, and Twilight Sparkle gave a gentle smile,

“But clearly, something about this bothers you.

Tell me.”

Rarity backed away, her hooves tapping

nervously beneath her. “Twilight Sparkle… It’s not

something I can talk about.”

“You’re not… broke, are you?” Twilight Sparkle

asked as she looked around the store at all the

fantastic fabrics.

“No!” It wasn’t the volume of her rejection

that made Twilight Sparkle retreat. In Rarity’s

eyes were a fear. A pain. Something that Twilight

Sparkle had never seen before in the confident

Rarity. For a moment Twilight Sparkle thought that

the elegant white pony was going to do… something.

Scream. Cry. But before her eyes Rarity

recovered. It was as if all she saw was brushed

behind a veil and Rarity was once more simply

Rarity. “No, Twilight Sparkle. I will never be

like that again.”

“Again?” Rarity closed her eyes and Twilight

Sparkle knew the unicorn was kicking herself.

“Please Rarity. You can talk with me about

anything. We’re friends... You know that, right?”

“Friends,” Rarity said solemnly for a moment.

Rarity looked at her friend and then turned away,

“It’s nothing. No matter at all!” She said firmly

as she walked to the window to look out at the

setting sun, her eyes distant. “It’s in the past.

It should stay there.”

“But it’s hurting you now, Rarity.”

Rarity didn’t answer that as she gazed out the

window. “I can almost hear the music some nights.

Badum ba-da-dum-dum…” She sang softly. “I can

still see the ponies all in their fine dresses and

coats dancing in neat rows. Elegant waltzes.

Saucy tangos. Schottisches. Branles. Pavanes and

Minuets. Elaborate dishes with an entire meal

distilled to a single bite of exquisite flavor.

And the gossip, oh the gossip! Unending and all so

trivial but so tantalizingly vital.” Blue eyes

looked at her friend with a sad smile, “You haven’t

a clue what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Um… no. Not really.” Twilight Sparkle said

softly with a sheepish smile.

“I’m talking about being rich. Fantastically

wealthy. Of having so much that you could never

want for a trifle.” She then looked over to a small

dusty chest and her horn glowed. The lock clicked,

lid lifted, and Rarity lifted a dingy, battered

book with her horn. It hovered in front of her as

it turned over in the air. “I don’t know why I

held on to this. There’s nothing in here that I

want to remember,” she said as she ran her hoof

over the water stained cover. Gold fleck still

clung to the corners, and there was a hint of lace

still clutched to the edge. “I suppose that it’s a

part of me, no matter how much I dislike it.

Here.” She levitated the book to Twilight Sparkle.

“It should answer your questions.”


Dear Journal,

I refuse to refer to this as a diary. Sunsparkle

seemed to think this was an adequate gift for my

birthday. From the teasing my guests gave her

about purchasing me a ‘diary’ it’s clear that a

diary is something for common ponies. It was an

adequate party with adequate cake and adequate

presents and adequate music. Madam LeFleur told me

that adequate is a word that fancy ponies use all

the time. This has been an adequate entry in an

adequate journal.

Personally, I don’t think there’s much point to

writing in this. Madam LeFleur will probably just

make me walk with it on my head. Sooooo stupid.

Your owner Rarity.

The spectacular Rarity.

The one and only Rarity.

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

We took a day trip down to the marketplace today,

just mother and father and me. Apparently I am

going to be having a little sister. This simply

will not do and I informed mother and father of

this immediately. I do not want a sister. If I’m

Rarity then if I have a sister I’ll be half as

rare! Father and Mother seemed angry, but they

didn’t argue for a change. It seems as if they are

trying to be very happy right now. I don’t see

why. I am quite unhappy with the whole

arrangement!

Something simply must be done!

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

Ooh I could just kick the cook, if it weren’t so

unlady like. My friends came over and she tried to

serve us sugared grass instead of alfalfa. Can you

imagine? She gave some lame excuse of not having

any. Why doesn’t she just go out and buy some

more? It was a complete scandal and I know that

Silvercrest and Opalescence will be reminding me of

this faux pas forever!

In spite of that, we did have a delightful time

playing Princesses and Prince. Silvercrest is

still insisting that when we are grown, she’ll be

the one to marry Prince Blueblood. The nerve!

Every pony knows that I’m destined to marry him.

We also gave advice to Sunsparkle about how to

handle boys. The silly dear needs to learn to

flutter her lashes more.

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

Madam LeFleur had an argument with mother today

about not being paid. I thought it rather silly.

Mother is about to be another mother and is quite

cross about most things. She even yelled at me for

making too much noise practicing my dancing.

Mother will simply pay Madam LeFleur later. I’ve

been putting a lot of practice into Madam LeFleur’s

dancing and etiquette lessons. I’ve even been

practicing my enunciation, which means speaking

like a proper filly and not like some apple farming

bumkin. According to Madam LeFleur, only the

poorest and most slovenly ponies actually farm.

Can you imagine getting dirty? I’d rather die.

I do hope mother and father stop arguing. It’s

quite trying some nights. Perhaps they’ll stop

once my new sister arrives.

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

I know it hasn’t been as long as before, but I have

little else to do. My sister is here and her name

is Unique. Can you imagine! They may as well have

told me I’m common garbage. I adamantly insisted

they send her back at once, but mother became very

cross with me. Father became cross with her. She

became cross with him. It all ended with the foal

quite cross!

I hoped I might spend time with Silvercrest or

Opalescence, but suddenly all my friends are quite

busy! I can’t quite put my horn on it, but it’s

like they’re suddenly embarrassed to be my friends!

I can’t even manage three words to them before

they have some excuse. Mother quite angrily said

that we’d find some true friends!

I hope mother and father stop arguing soon. It

makes my head heart to hear them shouting at one

another.

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

I have never had a more miserable time in my life!

I was secretly quite thrilled to learn that I

wouldn’t have to put up with Madam LeFleur’s

lessons on enunciation and elocution, but I found

out that the cook and the cleaning ponies have left

the house as well. There was no pony to draw my

bath this morning, can you imagine?

Mother was quite beside herself. I told her that

she should simply get a new cook and servants. For

a moment I thought she was going to yell at me, but

instead she began to weep. This will teach me to

keep my mouth shut my opinions to myself. Mother

and father have been trying to have their friends

over every night, but the few that do visit are

positively rude! They eat the food and then

immediately leave. Father just stands there in the

door, watching them go. I know mother is a

terrible cook but there’s no excuse for crude

manners. He should but his hoof down and tell them

not to be rude. That’s what I’d do.

Silvercrest told me the nastiest lie yesterday

night. She said that father and mother have no

money. That we’re poor and that’s why all the

servant ponies left and no one will be my friend

anymore. I said that she was a horrible liar and a

terrible friend. We can’t be poor. We have a big

house and I have all my dresses. I’m even going to

the Grand Galloping Gala! Poor ponies don’t go to

that. Perhaps I’ll meet a prince.

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

Everything’s been so quiet. Father and mother

don’t argue any more. They don’t do anything.

Mother spends hours around Unique. Father just

looks at papers for hours and hours on end. Mother

doesn’t have most of her fancy dresses or jewels

any more. I loved her jewels. They were so bright

and cheery. She said she was clearing out space,

so I told her she could take my dresses too. She

just looked at me and started to cry. I don’t see

what the bother is. I never see my friends former

friends anymore and mother seems to need to get rid

of things.

I was wrong about the arguing. I’d rather hear

mother and father yelling than all this quiet.

Thank you for listening to me, Journal.

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

Something is terribly wrong with father. I was

playing with Unique in the ballroom and Unique was

babbling and being generally agreeable. Then I

spotted father watching us with a look most

peculiar. I don’t know quite how to put it into

words. A statue? No. He was like... a ghost.

He walked in and Unique babbled at him for a bit.

I suggested in passing that Unique was getting big

enough for her first baby dress and asked him if we

might go to market to shop for her. He looked as

if he was in pain! Then he simply retreated to his

study. He spends all his time there with those

papers. Why would any pony write in red?

I will talk with mother about it tomorrow.

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

Terrible accident. Father fell out the third story

window from his study

Dear Journal,

I’m sorry for crying on that last entry. I’ve been

taking care of Unique while mother gets us ready to

move to a smaller house. I thought I’d be mad, but

taking care of her is better than thinking about

what happened. Windows should stay locked. I

spent time in the upstairs ball room going over the

dances Madam LeFleur taught me, showing them to

Unique. She simply sucks on her hoof, the silly

thing.
Mother refuses to talk about father. When I

asked about the accident she hit me I will simply

not think about it. I won’t be sad to leave this

house. It doesn’t feel like home any more. The

rooms are all empty and echo when you walk past. I

found one of my old cloaks in a cupboard. It still

fits, though I stuck myself with a sewing needle

left in the hem. I bundled it up into my saddle

bag. It may come in useful.
Unique really isn’t all that bad.
Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,
This new house is certainly… cozy. I won’t say

its bad because when I did that mother wept for

nearly an hour. I’m sharing a room with Unique and

she’s fussy, but I told her we simply must make the

best of it. She simply babbled at me, but I think

she understood. I’ve tried to make sure everything

is neat and clean. Madam LeFleur said dirt was the

mark of poor ponies. We might be in a small house

but we’re not that.
Mother is giving etiquette lessons to some of

the fillies and colts in this neighborhood for

money. She doesn’t have very many students. The

ponies in this neighborhood don’t like us much.

They call us ‘snooty ponies’. I am not snooty. I

know snooty. If I introduced them to Silvercrest

they’d never call me snooty again.
Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,
These common ponies are incomprehensible. They

play in the street or empty lots with balls,

sticks, and hoops. I’ve tried to be friendly, yet

these children shy away from me with distrust. I

try to discuss things like fancy dresses, balls,

and dances and they simply look at me as if I’m

babbling. I tried drawing in a filly with talk

about the Grand Galloping Gala, but she was utterly

disinterested! Doesn’t she know a prince attends?
I’ve found that boys are much easier to

confound with a bit of praise. A flutter of the

eyes and a sweet smile and they’ve been generous

enough to provide some assistance: milk for Unique,

a few treats and trinkets, even some cloth that

I’ve tried to turn into shawls for myself and

Unique. Yet for some odd reason, they’re always

angry the next day. I think they’re starting to

avoid me.
Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,
It’s been terrible here. Everything is quiet

again. Mother yelled at two of her students and

now they’ve all quit. Mother cries all the time

now. She tried working in some shop, but I guess

being rich she doesn’t know how to do anything. I

don’t know how to do anything.
I went to my friends and asked them for help.

They were all so terrible. They laughed at my

scuffed up mane and my chipped hooves. Let them

live where I do and see if they keep their manes

nice and clean. Except I want to be clean. I want

to be pretty. I hate it, but I want to be like

them. Silvercrest said she’d pay me five bits to

do something horrible. I suggested what she could

do with her bits. The local ponies have quite the

colorful vocabulary.
Sunsparkle gave me her mother of pearl mane

comb. I told her that her journal was the best

present I ever recieved.
Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,
Mother is gone all the time now. She leaves

late and sometimes isn’t back till dawn. She seems

so sad. No. Not sad. Empty. She doesn’t even

want to see Unique. She brings us things to eat;

usually wormy apples or foul lettuces. Unique and

I walk all the way to the park to eat grass, but

it’s tough and makes my tummy ache. Unique needs

milk; the grass makes her sick. The money from the

comb is gone.
I take care of Mother and Unique now. I try to

keep mother comfortable and Unique quiet. I’m

trying to teach her how to walk with a book on her

head, like Madam LeFleur taught me. I think I’ll

tuck a few strands of her mane here. When she’s

bored of that, I’ll dance for her. She can’t

waltz, but I can’t waltz well either. I made a

horn puppet with that needle from my cloak. It

makes her laugh.
I love her laugh.
Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,
Mother’s been gone for three days. I’ve asked

about her, but nopony knows where she went. Some

mean colts said she’d left forever because she

doesn’t want us anymore.
She’ll come home soon. We’re out of everything

but grass and a little milk.
Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,
We don’t have a house anymore! Some pony came

while Unique and I were out looking for mother and

threw everything in a pile outside the front door!

Now it’s all locked tight and what little we had is

broken or taken. I’m so glad no one took you,

Journal. I found Unique’s horn puppet, my cloak,

and some milk in a bottle.
We’re staying with Stone Walker, one of the

ponies whose foal took lessons from mother. Unique

and I don’t really have a room, but there’s a niche

in the corner of the basement we’re staying in. I

tried to clean it as best I could. I think that

Stone Walker didn’t understand why I simply had to

clean up her basement. I’d clean up the rest of

the house if she liked, but she has so many

children that they would just mess everything up.
Unique said ‘Warity’. I’ve never cried so much

in my life. I was quite touched.
Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,
Stone Walker threw us out of her home. I told

her how her husband kept brushing against my flank.

She called me a horrible liar and said I was just

like mother. I cried and beat my hooves on the

door but she never opened it. I don’t think any

pony here will take us in. I don’t know what to

do.
I went to my friends again. I’ll do all the

horrible things Silvercrest wants. I couldn’t get

in though. The servants all pretended not to know

me, even though I called them by name. Even

Sundancer’s family wouldn’t help, but their cook

did give me three bottles of milk for Unique and

some honey muffins for me. Then I was told to

never come back. I don’t think I could bear to.
I hope I can find some ink.
Just Rarity.

Dear Journal,
We’re staying at a place called a shelter.

It’s not more than a big empty room with dirty hay

on the floor, but it’s warm and dry. There’s so

many ponies here just like us. Old, young,

Unicorn, Pegasus, Earth, but we’re all dirty.

Sometimes there’s clean water for a bath. The

ponies that keep the shelter are so very kind. But

I can tell they want to take Unique away. They say

they can find us a new home with good parents, but

they could find a home for Unique faster alone. I

can’t lose Unique.
I try and fix whatever I can with my needle.

There are so many clothes with rips and tears that

every pony needs something sewn. I try and make it

look pretty. Everything might be dirty, but it

doesn’t have to be ugly too. It makes them smile

when they see something pretty added to it.
Just Rarity.

Dear Journal,
We left the shelter. Some ponies said I had to

give up Unique. She’s too young to be with me, and

I’m too young to care for her. I’ll care for her!

I’ll do everything I can for her. I had to kick

and bite when they tried to separate us. I don’t

think they expected me to put up a fight, but I

did.
I don’t know what we’ll do, but I won’t let

anything happen to Unique.
Just Rarity.

Dear Journal,
The little bottle of ink from the shelter is

almost empty. I added water to what remains for

this entry. Unique and I were attacked, and not by

some stranger. They were boys from the

neighborhood we used to live in! They knew us!

They tried to take Unique’s cloak not because they

needed it, but because they could!
Never have I been so outraged! I kicked, bit,

shoved, and called them the most polysyllabic

insults I could think of at the time. They fled, I

think, more afraid that I fought at all than any

damage I actually caused. Unique was quite

impressed.
Just Rarity.

Dear journal,
Sorry to use charcoal, but it’s free. Unique

and I walk around all the time. It’s all there is

to do. If we’re not walking, soon the horrible

feelings inside build up and I want to cry. I

can’t cry. I can’t. If I cry then Unique will too

and she’s trying so very hard not to cry. We’re

both so filthy. We can’t keep clean. We try,

Journal. We try so hard!
I have to find some milk for Unique. She still

can’t handle grass.
Rarity.

Dear diary,
We can’t stay here any longer. We simply

can’t. It’s not about money any more. It’s us.
Unique found three bits in the gutter. Filthy.

Dirty. But it was money. I went straight to a

milk vendor to purchase three bottles. He told us

to leave. We weren’t begging. We showed him the

money! Still he refused and insisted we go. He

was embarrassed to sell to two filthy young ponies!

We went to three others before we found a vendor

willing to sell two bottles to us.
But it’s more than that. I fear that we’re

becoming invisible. Ponies simply don’t look at us

any more. They see, but their eyes are fixed.

They talk louder when they pass, as if afraid we

might ask them for help. Those ponies who do see

are even worse. They glare as if sure we’ll take

something! And worst of all… ponies who think

we’re funny. Like we chose to be like this. Like

we want to be like this.
Rarity.

Dear diary,
We’re not in town anymore. No pony likes us

there anyway. We’re outside town where there’s far

more grass than in the park, even if it’s all

yellow. We stopped by a farm and the cows were

very nice. They gave Unique all the milk she could

drink.
I wonder what happened to mother. Did she have

an accident, like father? I sometimes tell Unique

that mother was wisked away by an evil witch and

that someday she’ll come back. It doesn’t feel

like a lie. I want it to be true so much, and it

makes Unique happy. I tell her we’re going to look

for mother and it makes her smile.
I want to stay at the farm, but I know the look

the farmers gave us. It’s the same look.
Still, Unique and I are full and the fallen

leaves are far more comfortable than I’d ever

imagined. Even the moon and stars are so much

lovelier than in town.
Rarity.

Dear Diary,
For the first time in months I feel clean.

It’s the warmest day we’ve felt thus far, and

Unique and I found a stream in which to bathe. I

know we’re still a sight. I look at mud and my

stomach simply clenches. I think I might have an

allergy to dirt. Can you imagine anything so

silly?
I miss mother and father so much.
Rarity.

Dear diary,
I’ve been told this road leads to another town.

I told Unique that mother’s probably there waiting

for her. She doesn’t like walking. I keep

reminding myself she’s a new sister. I carry her

as best I can. I took apart the horn puppet to

patch up my cloak and stuff it with leaves. I even

sewed on some particularly pretty acorns. Unique

was so happy. She called herself a princess.
She should be a Princess.
I read about how I felt about her before.

She’s a Princess. She’s sweet and kind and

wonderful and I’m not.
Rarity.

Dear Diary,
It’s snowing again. It never snowed like this

before. It’s so beautiful and Unique is entranced.

We danced together as it fell upon us, like a ball

for only the two of us. She’s Princess Unique.

I’m Princess Rarity. Our hooves leave tracks

across the still woods. She’s so very happy. It’s

getting cold though as we only have one cloak. We

both try to fit under it as we make our way through

the snow.
I hope we find someplace warm soon. Unique is

cold from our dancing.
Rarity.

der dary
unique

Dear Diary,
I was found in the woods and taken to a farm.

I wish they hadn’t. I wish they’d left me with

her. They keep trying to feed me apples and clean

me up but it doesn’t matter. One of the girls here

keeps trying to be nice. I don’t deserve her being

nice to me. I call her stupid hateful things, like

I’m Silvercrest. Her parents know I don’t mean it,

but I think she’s mad with me. Her red brother is

quiet. He leaves me alone. I think he

understands.
I can’t stay here. I don’t deserve to stay

here, but they won’t let me go till spring. I

still have my needle. I’ll sew some things up for

them. I can do that at least. I miss Unique I miss mother and father I hate

being here I hate being alone I hate the pity and

the looks and the crying I hate the kindness that I

don’t deserve I hate myself for being here when

unique isn’t I hate

Dear Diary,
I’m in this new place, Ponyville. It’s much

smaller than where we used to live. Every pony is

nice to me because they know what happened to

Unique. They try and give me things, but I won’t

take them. I told them my name is Silvercrest. My

mane is filthy and tangled and dirty. I hate it.

It’s what I deserve. I don’t think I can stay

here. I don’t think I can stay anywhere.
Rarity

Silvercrest.

Dear Diary,
I have a job. There’s a seamstress here who

makes a living mending clothes. A widow named

Thimble. She’s heard I’m good with a needle and so

I’m helping her. She has a room. I told her that

I’d pay to stay there. I won’t let her just let me

stay. I won’t. So I sew up simple things and she

lets me stay.
I keep thinking about what happened. Everything

that’s happened. I think about throwing this

journal away. Even burning it. But I can’t. But

I also can’t stop thinking about it!
I told her a little about me. She said that it

was silly to give up my name. That I was a Rarity.

That no pony my age had been through what I had

and kept going. It made me feel better. She’s

going to let me practice with her sewing machine.
Rarity.

Dear Diary,
I met Silvercrest and Sunsparkle today.
Silvercrest’s family were passing through on

their way to the Grand Galloping Gala when

Silvercrest ripped the hideous pink thing she

called a ball room dress. She resembled a fat pig

with green ribbons. Pink and lime green? How did

she ever think that would look good? I felt so bad

for Sunsparkle, stuck with Silvercrest as she

whined about how unfair it was her dress had

ripped.
A dress. A ripped dress was unfair. I had to

focus or I feared I would scream and throttle her!
Sunsparkle’s own garb was decent enough. It

was so hard for me to mention that with just a few

less ribbons it could be so much more. Silvercrest

was, of course, rude while Thimble sewed up the

tear. How could I know proper pony fashion? A few

ribbons less though made such a difference. A

braid in her mane that pulled her hair out of her

eyes and emphasized her throat helped wonderfully.
When they were leaving, I thanked her for her

comb. She had no idea what I was talking about.

Still, I hope she has a good time at the Gala.

Maybe she’ll meet a prince.
Rarity.

Dear Diary,
Thimble asked to adopt me. I’m not sure how to

feel. I know she cares for me. She pities me. I

think she might even love me a little. Yet when I

think of family, a gulf opens wide inside me. I

remember mother and father yelling. I remember

father’s suicide accident. Snow. It hurts. And

I’m afraid that if I accept then somehow I’ll make

the bad things that happened to me happen to her.
It’s silly, but I am so afraid.
Rarity.

Dear Diary,
Thimble is going to have a baby. I’m going to

have to take over most of the chores running the

shop. There’s so much to remember! Still, I’ve

figured out the sewing machine.
Misses Muffin wants a wedding dress made.

She’s marrying Mr. Cake in their very bakery. It

was supposed to be just a simple affair. White

with white. It took so long for me to mention, in

passing, that perhaps she might like a new dress.

Something… better. I never expected her to agree!

Now I have to design an entire dress!
Yet, despite everything I have to admit I’m

excited! I’ve never done anything like it before.

Even Thimble’s never designed an entire dress, but

when I close my eyes I can almost see it. And it’s

strange but when I focus on doing this… I don’t

think about… other things.
Oh what have I gotten myself into?
Miss Rarity.

Dear Diary,
The dress was an utter disaster. The hem was

uneven and the embroidery was simply awful. I

nearly tore the whole thing to pieces. Somehow

Miss Muffin adored the ghastly thing! It was so

hard, but I had to concentrate! I had to focus on

every little detail. That’s how I know it was

terrible.
She paid me twenty bits for it.
I’ve never actually earned money before. Money.

It should have been important to me but when it

jingled in my hoof it seems… stupid. I know that’s

silly. Money’s the most important things in the

world. If we’d had money father wouldn’t have

killed many troubles could have been avoided. I

tried to give it to Thimble, but she said I’d all

ready paid my rent and it’d been all my work. I’d

earned that money.
Mother and Father would have spent it. I would

have spent it. Money was for spending, yet… I’ll

save it. Perhaps something important will come up.
Tailor Rarity.

Dear Diary,
Thimble had her baby! She’s… everything.

Everything precious and delicate and sweet. I said

she should be named Sweetie Belle. She looks just

like her mother with her pink mane, but Thimble

says she looks like me. I couldn’t say who she

really looks like. I cried so much once I was back

in my room. It hurt so much. But I’m still going

to make her a horn puppet. I focus on every

stitch, so I don’t think about the old memories.
It hurts to be a big sister again, but that’s

what I’ll be for her.
I have to.
Sister Rarity.

Dear Diary,
I’ve used up so many of your pages that I’m

nearly out. I never thought I’d ever fill this to

the very end. It makes me sad; isn’t that silly?
Thimble is making me go to school. It seems

silly given that I’ve all ready been tutored

adequately in enunciation and elocution. No, it’s

not silly. It’s scary. I’ve been on my own for so

long that the idea of being around other ponies

scares me. I don’t want to make friends like

Silvercrest again, and I know there are ponies like

her. Maybe not as rich, but every bit as mean.
Still, if I must, I’ll wash as well as I can.

I want to look clean and neat. I bought a roll of

fabric from Thimble and made myself a dress. It’s

simple enough. I try to brush up on everything

that Madam LeFleur taught me.
Who knows, it may be okay.
Nervous Rarity.

Dear Diary,
I! HATE!! APPLEJACK!!!
I was at school and it was… well… not so bad.

Not so bad, that is, till an Earth Pony named

Applejack asked me if I wanted to ‘play’.

Applejack doesn’t play. She mucks around in mud

puddles, kicks apples to splatter other ponies with

sticky pulp, and wrestles. My dress is RUINED

FOREVER! I called her a barbaric filthophile. She

laughed and said I talked funny. Funny!
I think... I think she might be her. That one

pony I met over the winter. She doesn’t seem to

recognize me, though.
Well. Dress aside… it wasn’t all bad. Perhaps

I’ll make friends with Applejack in time and teach

her how to be a proper lady. Never mind. Some

ponies are incapable of cleanliness.
Clean Rarity.

Dear Diary,
Boys are terribly silly ponies, aren’t they?

Apparently I’m quite a popular topic for them as

they do whatever boys do. I remember everything

that Madam LeFleur told me and they find simple

manners and grace quite fetching. Yet, I’m far

more careful this time. I remember what happened

before, and keep them at a hoof distance.

Politely. Like a lady.
It’s been so long, I’m surprised that I

remember how.
Lady Rarity.

Dear Diary,
The school is holding a play about the seasons.

I don’t really want to participate. I’m not an

actress. However, I have to admit their costumes

are… well… lacking. All right, they’re terrible.

But they don’t have to be. Perhaps I can help sew

something new. It has to be more than good though.

I want it to be spectacular!
Fidgeting Rarity

Dear Diary,
I GOT MY CUTIEMARK TODAY! What happened was

Dear Diary,
I can’t believe I was so excited I spilled ink

all over the page. I’ll write the details later.
I saw a homeless pony. He was older than me,

but not full grown. Ponyville doesn’t have a lot of

homeless ponies, they’re mostly just passing

through on their way to somewhere else. He had…

well… that look. That empty eyed look that made

him painful to look at. Was I ever as dirty as

that? Did I ever smell like that? I did. I know

I did.
I made him a blanket and used some of my money

to buy him something to eat and an old brush. He

looked at me like I was a ghost or something. He

started to cry. I know it’s hard for boys to cry,

so I left him alone after that. I hope he finds

somewhere to belong.
I am so lucky. Thimble has given me… no, not

given. I have to remember that. What she gave me

was an opportunity. Just like I gave that pony an

opportunity. I hope he makes it.
Happily Rarity.

Dear Diary,
Thimble is remarrying. I feel quite

overwhelmed. The loss of her husband and… my loss…

helped us stay together. Now she’s moving on with

her life. I should be happy for her. I should.
I’m not. I feel... terrified.
Only Thimble knows what I’ve been through and

she says I’m strong, but I don’t feel strong. I’m

afraid that without her I’ll fall apart again. She

simply tells me to make some friends and to simply

continue doing what I’ve been doing: living. It

sounds so simple, so why am I so afraid?
Cowardly Rarity,

Dear Diary,
I’m alone again. Thimble and Sweetie Belle

have left and I’m left in this great building.

Thimble wants to sell it to me, but right now I

can’t think of sewing. I can’t think of anything.
No, that’s not true. I keep thinking of

Unique. I keep thinking of father lying in the

courtyard. I keep thinking of the last day I saw

mother leave that filthy little house.
I don’t want to be alone. I’m sorry. I’ll

write when I’m less troubled.
Rarity

Dear Diary,
Sweetie Belle has returned. Thimble has said

that she found Canterlot a fine city, but

overwhelming for the young pony. Apparently

Sweetie Belle was quite inconsolable. The simple

solution is for her to stay with me until she’s

older and decides where she wants to live.
I didn’t know what else I could say besides

yes. Yet as I think about it, I think it the right

decision. I can’t let what happened to Unique

happen to Sweetie Belle. I have to focus and force

these maudlin ideas from my head. And oddly

enough, I can. In caring for Sweetie Belle I can

care for myself as well.
Is that courage?
Ambivalent Rarity.

Dear Diary,
Thimble is getting married and moving to

Canterlot. I was happy, but I admit to being

nervous. She’s helped so much, and even now she’s

still helping. She sold me her tailoring shop.

From now on this business is mine, for the price of

designing her wedding dress and two dresses for

Sweetie Belle and myself. I know it’s a token, but

it’s still a part of her promise.
Looking at the shop, I just have pictures of

how it could be. I’ll move the workshop upstairs

and turn the ground floor into a boutique! I’ll

design clothes for every pony for a hundred miles.

My talent for fashion has also been assisted by a

knack for locating gemstones. Certainly extraction

is a problem, but I’ll figure something out!
And I’ve also decided something else. I’ve

decided what to do with my money from the shop.

Some of it will go to paying the bills and buying

materials, certainly. Some of it I will save for

Sweetie Belle. One day she will know what she

wants to do with her life, and when she does I will

do all I can to help her as Thimble helped me.
But the rest I’m going to give away. There are

so many ponies across Equestria who are poor and

hurting. I could horde the bits and perhaps

someday even have the lifestyle mother and father

enjoyed, but I don’t want it. I’ll use my excess

to buy winter cloaks, food, milk, and help fund

shelters across Equestria. I don’t want to be rich

again. I’ve been rich. If I can help other ponies

from poverty, I will.
Sincerely Rarity.

Dearest Diary,
This is your final page. I never imagined in

my wildest dreams that my greatest friend would

ever be a book of my own writing. I know how vain

that sounds, but it’s true. At the very worst

times, and the very best, you’ve been with me.

You’re proof of all that I’ve gone through.
I don’t imagine I’ll ever share you with

another. Not even Sweetie Belle. So if any pony

is reading this, then I can only say that you are

the greatest of my friends. I hope that in reading

this, you understand a little bit about me. If I

seem reluctant to discuss my past, or evade

questions about my relationship to Sweetie Belle,

or act odd about money; you can now understand why.
And so, I can only hope that you will also

understand to never discuss it with me. The

memories are too raw to speak of. I don’t want

praise for my generosity or charity. I don’t

deserve praise. Had I been truly generous I would

have let the shelter take Unique away. What I do

to help others is my repayment for all the help

that’s been given to me. If at times I seem

reluctant to waste money, please understand that

there are many ponies who will never realize how

wealthy they truly are to those who have nothing.
So, mysterious reader, thank you for taking

this time and making the effort to understand a

pony undeserving of your friendship.
Sincerely, surely, simply,
Rarity.

Twilight Sparkle stared down at that final

page. Framing it were two length of silky soft

mane, one a delicate blue violet similar to

Rarity’s, but not, and the other a soft pink and

purple. Twilight Sparkle ran her hoof along both

strands, touching the two sisters in Rarity’s life.

Slowly she closed the book, levitated it, and

brought it to her lips. She kissed it softly and

then set it aside. She’d make sure it returned to

its owner.

In the dark evening light she looked towards

her bag and her horn glowed. The flap lifted and

she drew out the simple blank journal. She opened

it up in front of her, turning to the very first

page. Magic lifted her pen and with the softest of

smiles began to write.

Dear Diary,
Today was my birthday, and I got many wonderful

gifts from my friends. One friend, however, gave

me far more than simple presents. First, she gave

me you. Secondly, she gave me a story that she’s

never shared with another. And third, she gave me

an appreciation for just what generosity truly

means. Thanks to her I appreciate all I have all

the more, and hope that one day I can be as caring

a soul as she.
Sincerely, surely, simply,
Twilight Sparkle.

In the late night Rarity’s sewing machine

softly purred. The blankets were simple, but when

winter came they would be comfortable, durable, and

most importantly warm. Mrs. Cake had collected all

the left over pastries from Pinkie Pie’s party and

sent them in a basket. They’d reach their

destination a bit stale, but still edible. And

while no pony in the shelter would know who

‘parkle’ was on the birthday cake, that wouldn’t

stop them from appreciating it. Maybe they’d think

that ‘parkle’ sent the money along with the

package. Maybe not. All that mattered was that

some pony would be helped.

She hoped it wasn’t a mistake to give out that

book, but she thought she could trust Twilight

Sparkle. On this, at least, she wouldn’t blab her

secrets. Sweetie Belle would be back tomorrow.

She had to be careful. She wanted to give her

sister everything; the whole world if she could,

but Rarity knew what came of that. You couldn’t

give everything you wanted. Not even love, or it

would hurt.

She gazed out the window, singing softly under

her voice, “Badum ba-da-dum-dum…” As she sang she

remembered the dance with her sister in the empty

ball room. Hoof in hoof, whirling gaily, like they

never would again save for that one last time…

Slowly she lifted the lid of the chest and

reached down. The leaves were terribly brittle

stuffed within the faded red winter coat. There

were so many stains and splotches it was hard to

make out the original color. Her hoof softly

nudged a dry acorn still tied to the edge. Gently,

as gently as she’d stroked her sisters’ manes when

they were foals, she ran her hoof over the garment.

Then she closed the lid with a sigh.

Someday she might give it to Sweetie Belle, or,

perish the thought, a child of her own. It was

everything she would ever be. Would ever hope to

be. And so she adjusted her glasses, wiped away

any lingering tears, and continued her work; being

all that she was.

Simply Rarity.Simply Rarity (Full version)

By Somber

What does generosity mean to a Unicorn with

everything and nothing?

“Surprise!” Pinkie Pie yelled as she popped up

in front of Rarity waving her hooves as more and

more ponies filed into Sugarcube Corner. A massive

banner that said ‘Happy Birthday Twilight

Sparkle!!!!” draped across the far wall proclaimed

the event, and the balloons were a dead giveaway.

“It’s only a surprise to any pony lacking a

calendar, literacy, or sight, Pinkie Pie,” Rarity

said properly as she levitated the bright purple

wrapped bundle to the stack of packages.

“Oh, yeah.” Pinkie Pie rubbed her bright,

curly mane before she grinned, “But surprises are

funner!” Her grin was positively infectious, and

Rarity simply sighed and gave in, smiling at her

friend.

“Yes, Pinkie Pie. Surprises are more fun.”

Rarity didn’t have the heart to correct or argue as

she walked calmly over to the mare of honor and her

friends, leaving Pinkie Pie to ambush another pony

with her glee. “Twilight Sparkle. So sorry I’m

late but I had to finish a dozen silk ball gowns

for delivery this afternoon. Such a chore.”

“Oh it’s all right. I know how hard you work

to meet your deadlines,” Twilight Sparkle said

brightly.

“Business has certainly been brisk. I don’t

know when I’ve ever enjoyed such a streak,” Rarity

said as she brushed her hoof off on her sleeve and

casually examined her pony pedicure.

Applejack glanced over and gave an annoyed

little grunt, “With all that business you must be

rolling in the bits. You’re the only dress maker

in Ponyville and you’re making all those fancy duds

for rich folk in Canterlot and Manehattan.”

“I… a lady does not discuss her finances,

Applejack,” Rarity said crossly.

“Yeah, but every pony knows how I sweat for my

bits. So tell me, Rarity, how much do you bring

in? A hundred bits? Two hundred? Three?”

Applejack watched the Unicorn flush and stammer,

taking a little bit of satisfaction in Rarity’s

discombobulation. “Shoot, you might be the richest

pony in Ponyville.”

Rarity flushed brightly. “I… I am not,

Applejack!” But there were other ponies looking

her way and the white Unicorn gave a harumph, nose

in the air. “This discussion is over.”

Applejack almost got another dig in when

Fluttershy entered and Pinkie Pie started to bounce

around the bakery. “Everyone’s here! Everyone’s

here! Presents, pastries, and party games, oh my!”

The pink pony grabbed Twilight Sparkle and pushed

her towards the stack of presents on the table.

“Open them. Open open open! Mine first!”

Twilight Sparkle smiled as she tore open one

package after the other. A joke book of 101

magical pranks from Pinkie Pie. A box of candy

apples from Applejack. A picture of Rainbow Dash

signed, ‘From Equestria’s best and most awesome

flyer.’ “What?!” the pegasus retorted, hooves

spread at the flat look given by her friends. A

golden quill pot from the Princess. A small vial

of perfume from Fluttershy. Something that might

have been a Twilight Sparkle doll from the Cutie

Mark Crusaders with the note ‘No toymaker cutie

marks.’ Spike gave her one of his baby fangs which

had fallen out a few weeks ago. And from Rarity…

“A book!” Twilight Sparkle said in glee, then

frowned as she opened it up and flipped through the

pages. “An empty book?”

“It’s a journal,” Rarity said brightly,

flushing as she looked at her friend’s incredulous

looks. “You can write your thoughts down and….

Stuff.”

“Pretty chintzy gift,” Rainbow Dash said

softly. She got a few glares, but more than a few

ponies looking curiously at Rarity. “Well it is!

I mean she could have gotten Twilight Sparkle a

real gift instead of a two bit journal.”

“Yeah. What? A dozen dresses doesn’t clear

enough to get her something nice?” Applejack

taunted. But her smiled disappeared as she saw

Rarity wasn’t angry by her nettling. She was

crying! Applejack’s grin quickly melted into

concern, “Hey now… I…”

Rarity looked around at all the ponies staring

at her before she pressed her lips together. “I’m

very sorry,” she said formally to Twilight Sparkle.

“I’ll try to get you something… better.” And with

that she turned on hoof and walked slowly for the

exit. Head high, neck firm, ignore tears and no

pony would dare bring them up. Just like Madam

taught her. “If you’ll excuse me, dresses don’t

make themselves.”

“Rarity? Rarity!” Twilight Sparkle called

after her but she disappeared.

“What is wrong with her?” Rainbow Dash asked as

she fluttered in place. “Jeeze, I got to wonder

how she’s supposed to be the generous one?”

“That’s not fair, Dash. Rarity donated a lot

of her time and energy to us,” Fluttershy said

softly as she approached, “Remember all that work

she did for our dresses for the Gala?”

“Yeah, which we paid her for. Remember us

constantly telling her to keep it inside our

budget?” Rainbow Dash asked with frown.

“Actually I remember a lot of singing about

that,” Pinkie Pie said.

“I’m just saying that even if she’s generous

with her style and talent and stuff, that pony is

seriously cheap when it comes to the cash. You

can’t tell me that she doesn’t make enough with a

dress of sapphires to pay all her bills and splurge

on her friends occasionally!”

“At least she earns her money,” Applejack

countered. “When are you gonna pay your apple tab,

Rainbow Dash?”

“Eh, when I make it big with the Wonderbolts,

natch.” Rainbow Dash replied, folding her hooves

behind her head. Applejack just gave a little

grunt and shake of her head.

Twilight Sparkle looked out the window and just

frowned in concern.

“That’s very good, Diamond Tiara. You must

keep your head high, but stable. That’s it, Silver

Spoon. Lift those hooves with each step,” Rarity

said as she watched the young fillies walking in

careful circles with books balanced on their heads

through her cleared off workspace. The pair

screwed up their faces with concentration.

“What do we have to do this for? It’s sooooo

stupid!” Silver Spoon whined as she carefully

stepped over rolls of cloth, tripping up enough for

the book to tumble off her head. “Urrrgh!”

“Now now. Your parents want you to look like

proper ladies. That requires focus and

discipline,” Rarity replied primly. She lifted

the book with her magic to set atop her head and

casually strolled over each roll. The book didn’t

quiver in the slightest as Rarity turned and gave a

slow and graceful dance over the rolls of silk.

For a moment she could almost hear the music.

The door opened and admitted Twilight Sparkle.

Rarity’s hoof caught on a roll, and for a horrible

second she was about to fall. Then she recovered

with a tight twist, the book still balanced

perfectly atop her purple curls. Even Diamond

Tiara and Silver Spoon looked impressed as she

bowed her head without it shifting. “And THAT,

ladies, is why you have to practice doing this. It

is the first step towards grace.”

After that she escorted the two fillies from

Carousel Boutique and returned to Twilight Sparkle,

she let out her breath and sighed in relief, “Thank

you for saving me from that pair. Another comment

about how something was ‘stupid’ and I’d have

punted them.”

“You’re welcome, but why are you tutoring them

in the first place? Doesn’t Sweetie Belle… well…

hate them?”

“She’s with her friends tonight at

Fluttershy’s. I’m tutoring the pair as best as I’m

able on dignity and proper gracefulness as high

society requires,” Rarity said with a sigh,

“Personally I’d rather teach a diamond dog

etiquette.”

“Well why are you doing it then ?” Twilight

Sparkle asked softly.

Rarity’s eyes darted about a moment as she

fished for an excuse. “Well, it’s not precisely a

trouble. And there is some compensation from their

parents.”

“You’re tutoring them for money?” Twilight

Sparkle asked incredulously. Rarity’s curls seemed

to tighten before her eyes.

“Yes! Fine. I admit it. I’m passing on the

skills I’ve learned for money. Twenty bits a

night. Filthy lucre. There, happy?” She asked

sharply as she stomped around the work shop and

started to levitate the rolls of fabric back onto

the shelves. “I’m sorry that my gift was so

‘chintzy’. I’ll get you something appropriate

later.”

“Rarity! The gift is fine,” Twilight Sparkle

said as she magically gripped a roll of purple

cloth and interrupted Rarity’s furious cleaning.

Twilight walked around to look her in the eye and

saw the pain and worry within. “I don’t mind a

journal. ” Rarity let go of the fabric with her

magic, and Twilight Sparkle set it aside. Their

eyes met, and Twilight Sparkle gave a gentle smile,

“But clearly, something about this bothers you.

Tell me.”

Rarity backed away, her hooves tapping

nervously beneath her. “Twilight Sparkle… It’s not

something I can talk about.”

“You’re not… broke, are you?” Twilight Sparkle

asked as she looked around the store at all the

fantastic fabrics.

“No!” It wasn’t the volume of her rejection

that made Twilight Sparkle retreat. In Rarity’s

eyes were a fear. A pain. Something that Twilight

Sparkle had never seen before in the confident

Rarity. For a moment Twilight Sparkle thought that

the elegant white pony was going to do… something.

Scream. Cry. But before her eyes Rarity

recovered. It was as if all she saw was brushed

behind a veil and Rarity was once more simply

Rarity. “No, Twilight Sparkle. I will never be

like that again.”

“Again?” Rarity closed her eyes and Twilight

Sparkle knew the unicorn was kicking herself.

“Please Rarity. You can talk with me about

anything. We’re friends... You know that, right?”

“Friends,” Rarity said solemnly for a moment.

Rarity looked at her friend and then turned away,

“It’s nothing. No matter at all!” She said firmly

as she walked to the window to look out at the

setting sun, her eyes distant. “It’s in the past.

It should stay there.”

“But it’s hurting you now, Rarity.”

Rarity didn’t answer that as she gazed out the

window. “I can almost hear the music some nights.

Badum ba-da-dum-dum…” She sang softly. “I can

still see the ponies all in their fine dresses and

coats dancing in neat rows. Elegant waltzes.

Saucy tangos. Schottisches. Branles. Pavanes and

Minuets. Elaborate dishes with an entire meal

distilled to a single bite of exquisite flavor.

And the gossip, oh the gossip! Unending and all so

trivial but so tantalizingly vital.” Blue eyes

looked at her friend with a sad smile, “You haven’t

a clue what I’m talking about, do you?”

“Um… no. Not really.” Twilight Sparkle said

softly with a sheepish smile.

“I’m talking about being rich. Fantastically

wealthy. Of having so much that you could never

want for a trifle.” She then looked over to a small

dusty chest and her horn glowed. The lock clicked,

lid lifted, and Rarity lifted a dingy, battered

book with her horn. It hovered in front of her as

it turned over in the air. “I don’t know why I

held on to this. There’s nothing in here that I

want to remember,” she said as she ran her hoof

over the water stained cover. Gold fleck still

clung to the corners, and there was a hint of lace

still clutched to the edge. “I suppose that it’s a

part of me, no matter how much I dislike it.

Here.” She levitated the book to Twilight Sparkle.

“It should answer your questions.”


Dear Journal,

I refuse to refer to this as a diary. Sunsparkle

seemed to think this was an adequate gift for my

birthday. From the teasing my guests gave her

about purchasing me a ‘diary’ it’s clear that a

diary is something for common ponies. It was an

adequate party with adequate cake and adequate

presents and adequate music. Madam LeFleur told me

that adequate is a word that fancy ponies use all

the time. This has been an adequate entry in an

adequate journal.

Personally, I don’t think there’s much point to

writing in this. Madam LeFleur will probably just

make me walk with it on my head. Sooooo stupid.

Your owner Rarity.

The spectacular Rarity.

The one and only Rarity.

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

We took a day trip down to the marketplace today,

just mother and father and me. Apparently I am

going to be having a little sister. This simply

will not do and I informed mother and father of

this immediately. I do not want a sister. If I’m

Rarity then if I have a sister I’ll be half as

rare! Father and Mother seemed angry, but they

didn’t argue for a change. It seems as if they are

trying to be very happy right now. I don’t see

why. I am quite unhappy with the whole

arrangement!

Something simply must be done!

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

Ooh I could just kick the cook, if it weren’t so

unlady like. My friends came over and she tried to

serve us sugared grass instead of alfalfa. Can you

imagine? She gave some lame excuse of not having

any. Why doesn’t she just go out and buy some

more? It was a complete scandal and I know that

Silvercrest and Opalescence will be reminding me of

this faux pas forever!

In spite of that, we did have a delightful time

playing Princesses and Prince. Silvercrest is

still insisting that when we are grown, she’ll be

the one to marry Prince Blueblood. The nerve!

Every pony knows that I’m destined to marry him.

We also gave advice to Sunsparkle about how to

handle boys. The silly dear needs to learn to

flutter her lashes more.

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

Madam LeFleur had an argument with mother today

about not being paid. I thought it rather silly.

Mother is about to be another mother and is quite

cross about most things. She even yelled at me for

making too much noise practicing my dancing.

Mother will simply pay Madam LeFleur later. I’ve

been putting a lot of practice into Madam LeFleur’s

dancing and etiquette lessons. I’ve even been

practicing my enunciation, which means speaking

like a proper filly and not like some apple farming

bumkin. According to Madam LeFleur, only the

poorest and most slovenly ponies actually farm.

Can you imagine getting dirty? I’d rather die.

I do hope mother and father stop arguing. It’s

quite trying some nights. Perhaps they’ll stop

once my new sister arrives.

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

I know it hasn’t been as long as before, but I have

little else to do. My sister is here and her name

is Unique. Can you imagine! They may as well have

told me I’m common garbage. I adamantly insisted

they send her back at once, but mother became very

cross with me. Father became cross with her. She

became cross with him. It all ended with the foal

quite cross!

I hoped I might spend time with Silvercrest or

Opalescence, but suddenly all my friends are quite

busy! I can’t quite put my horn on it, but it’s

like they’re suddenly embarrassed to be my friends!

I can’t even manage three words to them before

they have some excuse. Mother quite angrily said

that we’d find some true friends!

I hope mother and father stop arguing soon. It

makes my head heart to hear them shouting at one

another.

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

I have never had a more miserable time in my life!

I was secretly quite thrilled to learn that I

wouldn’t have to put up with Madam LeFleur’s

lessons on enunciation and elocution, but I found

out that the cook and the cleaning ponies have left

the house as well. There was no pony to draw my

bath this morning, can you imagine?

Mother was quite beside herself. I told her that

she should simply get a new cook and servants. For

a moment I thought she was going to yell at me, but

instead she began to weep. This will teach me to

keep my mouth shut my opinions to myself. Mother

and father have been trying to have their friends

over every night, but the few that do visit are

positively rude! They eat the food and then

immediately leave. Father just stands there in the

door, watching them go. I know mother is a

terrible cook but there’s no excuse for crude

manners. He should but his hoof down and tell them

not to be rude. That’s what I’d do.

Silvercrest told me the nastiest lie yesterday

night. She said that father and mother have no

money. That we’re poor and that’s why all the

servant ponies left and no one will be my friend

anymore. I said that she was a horrible liar and a

terrible friend. We can’t be poor. We have a big

house and I have all my dresses. I’m even going to

the Grand Galloping Gala! Poor ponies don’t go to

that. Perhaps I’ll meet a prince.

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

Everything’s been so quiet. Father and mother

don’t argue any more. They don’t do anything.

Mother spends hours around Unique. Father just

looks at papers for hours and hours on end. Mother

doesn’t have most of her fancy dresses or jewels

any more. I loved her jewels. They were so bright

and cheery. She said she was clearing out space,

so I told her she could take my dresses too. She

just looked at me and started to cry. I don’t see

what the bother is. I never see my friends former

friends anymore and mother seems to need to get rid

of things.

I was wrong about the arguing. I’d rather hear

mother and father yelling than all this quiet.

Thank you for listening to me, Journal.

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

Something is terribly wrong with father. I was

playing with Unique in the ballroom and Unique was

babbling and being generally agreeable. Then I

spotted father watching us with a look most

peculiar. I don’t know quite how to put it into

words. A statue? No. He was like... a ghost.

He walked in and Unique babbled at him for a bit.

I suggested in passing that Unique was getting big

enough for her first baby dress and asked him if we

might go to market to shop for her. He looked as

if he was in pain! Then he simply retreated to his

study. He spends all his time there with those

papers. Why would any pony write in red?

I will talk with mother about it tomorrow.

Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,

Terrible accident. Father fell out the third story

window from his study

Dear Journal,

I’m sorry for crying on that last entry. I’ve been

taking care of Unique while mother gets us ready to

move to a smaller house. I thought I’d be mad, but

taking care of her is better than thinking about

what happened. Windows should stay locked. I

spent time in the upstairs ball room going over the

dances Madam LeFleur taught me, showing them to

Unique. She simply sucks on her hoof, the silly

thing.
Mother refuses to talk about father. When I

asked about the accident she hit me I will simply

not think about it. I won’t be sad to leave this

house. It doesn’t feel like home any more. The

rooms are all empty and echo when you walk past. I

found one of my old cloaks in a cupboard. It still

fits, though I stuck myself with a sewing needle

left in the hem. I bundled it up into my saddle

bag. It may come in useful.
Unique really isn’t all that bad.
Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,
This new house is certainly… cozy. I won’t say

its bad because when I did that mother wept for

nearly an hour. I’m sharing a room with Unique and

she’s fussy, but I told her we simply must make the

best of it. She simply babbled at me, but I think

she understood. I’ve tried to make sure everything

is neat and clean. Madam LeFleur said dirt was the

mark of poor ponies. We might be in a small house

but we’re not that.
Mother is giving etiquette lessons to some of

the fillies and colts in this neighborhood for

money. She doesn’t have very many students. The

ponies in this neighborhood don’t like us much.

They call us ‘snooty ponies’. I am not snooty. I

know snooty. If I introduced them to Silvercrest

they’d never call me snooty again.
Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,
These common ponies are incomprehensible. They

play in the street or empty lots with balls,

sticks, and hoops. I’ve tried to be friendly, yet

these children shy away from me with distrust. I

try to discuss things like fancy dresses, balls,

and dances and they simply look at me as if I’m

babbling. I tried drawing in a filly with talk

about the Grand Galloping Gala, but she was utterly

disinterested! Doesn’t she know a prince attends?
I’ve found that boys are much easier to

confound with a bit of praise. A flutter of the

eyes and a sweet smile and they’ve been generous

enough to provide some assistance: milk for Unique,

a few treats and trinkets, even some cloth that

I’ve tried to turn into shawls for myself and

Unique. Yet for some odd reason, they’re always

angry the next day. I think they’re starting to

avoid me.
Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,
It’s been terrible here. Everything is quiet

again. Mother yelled at two of her students and

now they’ve all quit. Mother cries all the time

now. She tried working in some shop, but I guess

being rich she doesn’t know how to do anything. I

don’t know how to do anything.
I went to my friends and asked them for help.

They were all so terrible. They laughed at my

scuffed up mane and my chipped hooves. Let them

live where I do and see if they keep their manes

nice and clean. Except I want to be clean. I want

to be pretty. I hate it, but I want to be like

them. Silvercrest said she’d pay me five bits to

do something horrible. I suggested what she could

do with her bits. The local ponies have quite the

colorful vocabulary.
Sunsparkle gave me her mother of pearl mane

comb. I told her that her journal was the best

present I ever recieved.
Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,
Mother is gone all the time now. She leaves

late and sometimes isn’t back till dawn. She seems

so sad. No. Not sad. Empty. She doesn’t even

want to see Unique. She brings us things to eat;

usually wormy apples or foul lettuces. Unique and

I walk all the way to the park to eat grass, but

it’s tough and makes my tummy ache. Unique needs

milk; the grass makes her sick. The money from the

comb is gone.
I take care of Mother and Unique now. I try to

keep mother comfortable and Unique quiet. I’m

trying to teach her how to walk with a book on her

head, like Madam LeFleur taught me. I think I’ll

tuck a few strands of her mane here. When she’s

bored of that, I’ll dance for her. She can’t

waltz, but I can’t waltz well either. I made a

horn puppet with that needle from my cloak. It

makes her laugh.
I love her laugh.
Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,
Mother’s been gone for three days. I’ve asked

about her, but nopony knows where she went. Some

mean colts said she’d left forever because she

doesn’t want us anymore.
She’ll come home soon. We’re out of everything

but grass and a little milk.
Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,
We don’t have a house anymore! Some pony came

while Unique and I were out looking for mother and

threw everything in a pile outside the front door!

Now it’s all locked tight and what little we had is

broken or taken. I’m so glad no one took you,

Journal. I found Unique’s horn puppet, my cloak,

and some milk in a bottle.
We’re staying with Stone Walker, one of the

ponies whose foal took lessons from mother. Unique

and I don’t really have a room, but there’s a niche

in the corner of the basement we’re staying in. I

tried to clean it as best I could. I think that

Stone Walker didn’t understand why I simply had to

clean up her basement. I’d clean up the rest of

the house if she liked, but she has so many

children that they would just mess everything up.
Unique said ‘Warity’. I’ve never cried so much

in my life. I was quite touched.
Simply Rarity.

Dear Journal,
Stone Walker threw us out of her home. I told

her how her husband kept brushing against my flank.

She called me a horrible liar and said I was just

like mother. I cried and beat my hooves on the

door but she never opened it. I don’t think any

pony here will take us in. I don’t know what to

do.
I went to my friends again. I’ll do all the

horrible things Silvercrest wants. I couldn’t get

in though. The servants all pretended not to know

me, even though I called them by name. Even

Sundancer’s family wouldn’t help, but their cook

did give me three bottles of milk for Unique and

some honey muffins for me. Then I was told to

never come back. I don’t think I could bear to.
I hope I can find some ink.
Just Rarity.

Dear Journal,
We’re staying at a place called a shelter.

It’s not more than a big empty room with dirty hay

on the floor, but it’s warm and dry. There’s so

many ponies here just like us. Old, young,

Unicorn, Pegasus, Earth, but we’re all dirty.

Sometimes there’s clean water for a bath. The

ponies that keep the shelter are so very kind. But

I can tell they want to take Unique away. They say

they can find us a new home with good parents, but

they could find a home for Unique faster alone. I

can’t lose Unique.
I try and fix whatever I can with my needle.

There are so many clothes with rips and tears that

every pony needs something sewn. I try and make it

look pretty. Everything might be dirty, but it

doesn’t have to be ugly too. It makes them smile

when they see something pretty added to it.
Just Rarity.

Dear Journal,
We left the shelter. Some ponies said I had to

give up Unique. She’s too young to be with me, and

I’m too young to care for her. I’ll care for her!

I’ll do everything I can for her. I had to kick

and bite when they tried to separate us. I don’t

think they expected me to put up a fight, but I

did.
I don’t know what we’ll do, but I won’t let

anything happen to Unique.
Just Rarity.

Dear Journal,
The little bottle of ink from the shelter is

almost empty. I added water to what remains for

this entry. Unique and I were attacked, and not by

some stranger. They were boys from the

neighborhood we used to live in! They knew us!

They tried to take Unique’s cloak not because they

needed it, but because they could!
Never have I been so outraged! I kicked, bit,

shoved, and called them the most polysyllabic

insults I could think of at the time. They fled, I

think, more afraid that I fought at all than any

damage I actually caused. Unique was quite

impressed.
Just Rarity.

Dear journal,
Sorry to use charcoal, but it’s free. Unique

and I walk around all the time. It’s all there is

to do. If we’re not walking, soon the horrible

feelings inside build up and I want to cry. I

can’t cry. I can’t. If I cry then Unique will too

and she’s trying so very hard not to cry. We’re

both so filthy. We can’t keep clean. We try,

Journal. We try so hard!
I have to find some milk for Unique. She still

can’t handle grass.
Rarity.

Dear diary,
We can’t stay here any longer. We simply

can’t. It’s not about money any more. It’s us.
Unique found three bits in the gutter. Filthy.

Dirty. But it was money. I went straight to a

milk vendor to purchase three bottles. He told us

to leave. We weren’t begging. We showed him the

money! Still he refused and insisted we go. He

was embarrassed to sell to two filthy young ponies!

We went to three others before we found a vendor

willing to sell two bottles to us.
But it’s more than that. I fear that we’re

becoming invisible. Ponies simply don’t look at us

any more. They see, but their eyes are fixed.

They talk louder when they pass, as if afraid we

might ask them for help. Those ponies who do see

are even worse. They glare as if sure we’ll take

something! And worst of all… ponies who think

we’re funny. Like we chose to be like this. Like

we want to be like this.
Rarity.

Dear diary,
We’re not in town anymore. No pony likes us

there anyway. We’re outside town where there’s far

more grass than in the park, even if it’s all

yellow. We stopped by a farm and the cows were

very nice. They gave Unique all the milk she could

drink.
I wonder what happened to mother. Did she have

an accident, like father? I sometimes tell Unique

that mother was wisked away by an evil witch and

that someday she’ll come back. It doesn’t feel

like a lie. I want it to be true so much, and it

makes Unique happy. I tell her we’re going to look

for mother and it makes her smile.
I want to stay at the farm, but I know the look

the farmers gave us. It’s the same look.
Still, Unique and I are full and the fallen

leaves are far more comfortable than I’d ever

imagined. Even the moon and stars are so much

lovelier than in town.
Rarity.

Dear Diary,
For the first time in months I feel clean.

It’s the warmest day we’ve felt thus far, and

Unique and I found a stream in which to bathe. I

know we’re still a sight. I look at mud and my

stomach simply clenches. I think I might have an

allergy to dirt. Can you imagine anything so

silly?
I miss mother and father so much.
Rarity.

Dear diary,
I’ve been told this road leads to another town.

I told Unique that mother’s probably there waiting

for her. She doesn’t like walking. I keep

reminding myself she’s a new sister. I carry her

as best I can. I took apart the horn puppet to

patch up my cloak and stuff it with leaves. I even

sewed on some particularly pretty acorns. Unique

was so happy. She called herself a princess.
She should be a Princess.
I read about how I felt about her before.

She’s a Princess. She’s sweet and kind and

wonderful and I’m not.
Rarity.

Dear Diary,
It’s snowing again. It never snowed like this

before. It’s so beautiful and Unique is entranced.

We danced together as it fell upon us, like a ball

for only the two of us. She’s Princess Unique.

I’m Princess Rarity. Our hooves leave tracks

across the still woods. She’s so very happy. It’s

getting cold though as we only have one cloak. We

both try to fit under it as we make our way through

the snow.
I hope we find someplace warm soon. Unique is

cold from our dancing.
Rarity.

der dary
unique

Dear Diary,
I was found in the woods and taken to a farm.

I wish they hadn’t. I wish they’d left me with

her. They keep trying to feed me apples and clean

me up but it doesn’t matter. One of the girls here

keeps trying to be nice. I don’t deserve her being

nice to me. I call her stupid hateful things, like

I’m Silvercrest. Her parents know I don’t mean it,

but I think she’s mad with me. Her red brother is

quiet. He leaves me alone. I think he

understands.
I can’t stay here. I don’t deserve to stay

here, but they won’t let me go till spring. I

still have my needle. I’ll sew some things up for

them. I can do that at least. I miss Unique I miss mother and father I hate

being here I hate being alone I hate the pity and

the looks and the crying I hate the kindness that I

don’t deserve I hate myself for being here when

unique isn’t I hate

Dear Diary,
I’m in this new place, Ponyville. It’s much

smaller than where we used to live. Every pony is

nice to me because they know what happened to

Unique. They try and give me things, but I won’t

take them. I told them my name is Silvercrest. My

mane is filthy and tangled and dirty. I hate it.

It’s what I deserve. I don’t think I can stay

here. I don’t think I can stay anywhere.
Rarity

Silvercrest.

Dear Diary,
I have a job. There’s a seamstress here who

makes a living mending clothes. A widow named

Thimble. She’s heard I’m good with a needle and so

I’m helping her. She has a room. I told her that

I’d pay to stay there. I won’t let her just let me

stay. I won’t. So I sew up simple things and she

lets me stay.
I keep thinking about what happened. Everything

that’s happened. I think about throwing this

journal away. Even burning it. But I can’t. But

I also can’t stop thinking about it!
I told her a little about me. She said that it

was silly to give up my name. That I was a Rarity.

That no pony my age had been through what I had

and kept going. It made me feel better. She’s

going to let me practice with her sewing machine.
Rarity.

Dear Diary,
I met Silvercrest and Sunsparkle today.
Silvercrest’s family were passing through on

their way to the Grand Galloping Gala when

Silvercrest ripped the hideous pink thing she

called a ball room dress. She resembled a fat pig

with green ribbons. Pink and lime green? How did

she ever think that would look good? I felt so bad

for Sunsparkle, stuck with Silvercrest as she

whined about how unfair it was her dress had

ripped.
A dress. A ripped dress was unfair. I had to

focus or I feared I would scream and throttle her!
Sunsparkle’s own garb was decent enough. It

was so hard for me to mention that with just a few

less ribbons it could be so much more. Silvercrest

was, of course, rude while Thimble sewed up the

tear. How could I know proper pony fashion? A few

ribbons less though made such a difference. A

braid in her mane that pulled her hair out of her

eyes and emphasized her throat helped wonderfully.
When they were leaving, I thanked her for her

comb. She had no idea what I was talking about.

Still, I hope she has a good time at the Gala.

Maybe she’ll meet a prince.
Rarity.

Dear Diary,
Thimble asked to adopt me. I’m not sure how to

feel. I know she cares for me. She pities me. I

think she might even love me a little. Yet when I

think of family, a gulf opens wide inside me. I

remember mother and father yelling. I remember

father’s suicide accident. Snow. It hurts. And

I’m afraid that if I accept then somehow I’ll make

the bad things that happened to me happen to her.
It’s silly, but I am so afraid.
Rarity.

Dear Diary,
Thimble is going to have a baby. I’m going to

have to take over most of the chores running the

shop. There’s so much to remember! Still, I’ve

figured out the sewing machine.
Misses Muffin wants a wedding dress made.

She’s marrying Mr. Cake in their very bakery. It

was supposed to be just a simple affair. White

with white. It took so long for me to mention, in

passing, that perhaps she might like a new dress.

Something… better. I never expected her to agree!

Now I have to design an entire dress!
Yet, despite everything I have to admit I’m

excited! I’ve never done anything like it before.

Even Thimble’s never designed an entire dress, but

when I close my eyes I can almost see it. And it’s

strange but when I focus on doing this… I don’t

think about… other things.
Oh what have I gotten myself into?
Miss Rarity.

Dear Diary,
The dress was an utter disaster. The hem was

uneven and the embroidery was simply awful. I

nearly tore the whole thing to pieces. Somehow

Miss Muffin adored the ghastly thing! It was so

hard, but I had to concentrate! I had to focus on

every little detail. That’s how I know it was

terrible.
She paid me twenty bits for it.
I’ve never actually earned money before. Money.

It should have been important to me but when it

jingled in my hoof it seems… stupid. I know that’s

silly. Money’s the most important things in the

world. If we’d had money father wouldn’t have

killed many troubles could have been avoided. I

tried to give it to Thimble, but she said I’d all

ready paid my rent and it’d been all my work. I’d

earned that money.
Mother and Father would have spent it. I would

have spent it. Money was for spending, yet… I’ll

save it. Perhaps something important will come up.
Tailor Rarity.

Dear Diary,
Thimble had her baby! She’s… everything.

Everything precious and delicate and sweet. I said

she should be named Sweetie Belle. She looks just

like her mother with her pink mane, but Thimble

says she looks like me. I couldn’t say who she

really looks like. I cried so much once I was back

in my room. It hurt so much. But I’m still going

to make her a horn puppet. I focus on every

stitch, so I don’t think about the old memories.
It hurts to be a big sister again, but that’s

what I’ll be for her.
I have to.
Sister Rarity.

Dear Diary,
I’ve used up so many of your pages that I’m

nearly out. I never thought I’d ever fill this to

the very end. It makes me sad; isn’t that silly?
Thimble is making me go to school. It seems

silly given that I’ve all ready been tutored

adequately in enunciation and elocution. No, it’s

not silly. It’s scary. I’ve been on my own for so

long that the idea of being around other ponies

scares me. I don’t want to make friends like

Silvercrest again, and I know there are ponies like

her. Maybe not as rich, but every bit as mean.
Still, if I must, I’ll wash as well as I can.

I want to look clean and neat. I bought a roll of

fabric from Thimble and made myself a dress. It’s

simple enough. I try to brush up on everything

that Madam LeFleur taught me.
Who knows, it may be okay.
Nervous Rarity.

Dear Diary,
I! HATE!! APPLEJACK!!!
I was at school and it was… well… not so bad.

Not so bad, that is, till an Earth Pony named

Applejack asked me if I wanted to ‘play’.

Applejack doesn’t play. She mucks around in mud

puddles, kicks apples to splatter other ponies with

sticky pulp, and wrestles. My dress is RUINED

FOREVER! I called her a barbaric filthophile. She

laughed and said I talked funny. Funny!
I think... I think she might be her. That one

pony I met over the winter. She doesn’t seem to

recognize me, though.
Well. Dress aside… it wasn’t all bad. Perhaps

I’ll make friends with Applejack in time and teach

her how to be a proper lady. Never mind. Some

ponies are incapable of cleanliness.
Clean Rarity.

Dear Diary,
Boys are terribly silly ponies, aren’t they?

Apparently I’m quite a popular topic for them as

they do whatever boys do. I remember everything

that Madam LeFleur told me and they find simple

manners and grace quite fetching. Yet, I’m far

more careful this time. I remember what happened

before, and keep them at a hoof distance.

Politely. Like a lady.
It’s been so long, I’m surprised that I

remember how.
Lady Rarity.

Dear Diary,
The school is holding a play about the seasons.

I don’t really want to participate. I’m not an

actress. However, I have to admit their costumes

are… well… lacking. All right, they’re terrible.

But they don’t have to be. Perhaps I can help sew

something new. It has to be more than good though.

I want it to be spectacular!
Fidgeting Rarity

Dear Diary,
I GOT MY CUTIEMARK TODAY! What happened was

Dear Diary,
I can’t believe I was so excited I spilled ink

all over the page. I’ll write the details later.
I saw a homeless pony. He was older than me,

but not full grown. Ponyville doesn’t have a lot of

homeless ponies, they’re mostly just passing

through on their way to somewhere else. He had…

well… that look. That empty eyed look that made

him painful to look at. Was I ever as dirty as

that? Did I ever smell like that? I did. I know

I did.
I made him a blanket and used some of my money

to buy him something to eat and an old brush. He

looked at me like I was a ghost or something. He

started to cry. I know it’s hard for boys to cry,

so I left him alone after that. I hope he finds

somewhere to belong.
I am so lucky. Thimble has given me… no, not

given. I have to remember that. What she gave me

was an opportunity. Just like I gave that pony an

opportunity. I hope he makes it.
Happily Rarity.

Dear Diary,
Thimble is remarrying. I feel quite

overwhelmed. The loss of her husband and… my loss…

helped us stay together. Now she’s moving on with

her life. I should be happy for her. I should.
I’m not. I feel... terrified.
Only Thimble knows what I’ve been through and

she says I’m strong, but I don’t feel strong. I’m

afraid that without her I’ll fall apart again. She

simply tells me to make some friends and to simply

continue doing what I’ve been doing: living. It

sounds so simple, so why am I so afraid?
Cowardly Rarity,

Dear Diary,
I’m alone again. Thimble and Sweetie Belle

have left and I’m left in this great building.

Thimble wants to sell it to me, but right now I

can’t think of sewing. I can’t think of anything.
No, that’s not true. I keep thinking of

Unique. I keep thinking of father lying in the

courtyard. I keep thinking of the last day I saw

mother leave that filthy little house.
I don’t want to be alone. I’m sorry. I’ll

write when I’m less troubled.
Rarity

Dear Diary,
Sweetie Belle has returned. Thimble has said

that she found Canterlot a fine city, but

overwhelming for the young pony. Apparently

Sweetie Belle was quite inconsolable. The simple

solution is for her to stay with me until she’s

older and decides where she wants to live.
I didn’t know what else I could say besides

yes. Yet as I think about it, I think it the right

decision. I can’t let what happened to Unique

happen to Sweetie Belle. I have to focus and force

these maudlin ideas from my head. And oddly

enough, I can. In caring for Sweetie Belle I can

care for myself as well.
Is that courage?
Ambivalent Rarity.

Dear Diary,
Thimble is getting married and moving to

Canterlot. I was happy, but I admit to being

nervous. She’s helped so much, and even now she’s

still helping. She sold me her tailoring shop.

From now on this business is mine, for the price of

designing her wedding dress and two dresses for

Sweetie Belle and myself. I know it’s a token, but

it’s still a part of her promise.
Looking at the shop, I just have pictures of

how it could be. I’ll move the workshop upstairs

and turn the ground floor into a boutique! I’ll

design clothes for every pony for a hundred miles.

My talent for fashion has also been assisted by a

knack for locating gemstones. Certainly extraction

is a problem, but I’ll figure something out!
And I’ve also decided something else. I’ve

decided what to do with my money from the shop.

Some of it will go to paying the bills and buying

materials, certainly. Some of it I will save for

Sweetie Belle. One day she will know what she

wants to do with her life, and when she does I will

do all I can to help her as Thimble helped me.
But the rest I’m going to give away. There are

so many ponies across Equestria who are poor and

hurting. I could horde the bits and perhaps

someday even have the lifestyle mother and father

enjoyed, but I don’t want it. I’ll use my excess

to buy winter cloaks, food, milk, and help fund

shelters across Equestria. I don’t want to be rich

again. I’ve been rich. If I can help other ponies

from poverty, I will.
Sincerely Rarity.

Dearest Diary,
This is your final page. I never imagined in

my wildest dreams that my greatest friend would

ever be a book of my own writing. I know how vain

that sounds, but it’s true. At the very worst

times, and the very best, you’ve been with me.

You’re proof of all that I’ve gone through.
I don’t imagine I’ll ever share you with

another. Not even Sweetie Belle. So if any pony

is reading this, then I can only say that you are

the greatest of my friends. I hope that in reading

this, you understand a little bit about me. If I

seem reluctant to discuss my past, or evade

questions about my relationship to Sweetie Belle,

or act odd about money; you can now understand why.
And so, I can only hope that you will also

understand to never discuss it with me. The

memories are too raw to speak of. I don’t want

praise for my generosity or charity. I don’t

deserve praise. Had I been truly generous I would

have let the shelter take Unique away. What I do

to help others is my repayment for all the help

that’s been given to me. If at times I seem

reluctant to waste money, please understand that

there are many ponies who will never realize how

wealthy they truly are to those who have nothing.
So, mysterious reader, thank you for taking

this time and making the effort to understand a

pony undeserving of your friendship.
Sincerely, surely, simply,
Rarity.

Twilight Sparkle stared down at that final

page. Framing it were two length of silky soft

mane, one a delicate blue violet similar to

Rarity’s, but not, and the other a soft pink and

purple. Twilight Sparkle ran her hoof along both

strands, touching the two sisters in Rarity’s life.

Slowly she closed the book, levitated it, and

brought it to her lips. She kissed it softly and

then set it aside. She’d make sure it returned to

its owner.

In the dark evening light she looked towards

her bag and her horn glowed. The flap lifted and

she drew out the simple blank journal. She opened

it up in front of her, turning to the very first

page. Magic lifted her pen and with the softest of

smiles began to write.

Dear Diary,
Today was my birthday, and I got many wonderful

gifts from my friends. One friend, however, gave

me far more than simple presents. First, she gave

me you. Secondly, she gave me a story that she’s

never shared with another. And third, she gave me

an appreciation for just what generosity truly

means. Thanks to her I appreciate all I have all

the more, and hope that one day I can be as caring

a soul as she.
Sincerely, surely, simply,
Twilight Sparkle.

In the late night Rarity’s sewing machine

softly purred. The blankets were simple, but when

winter came they would be comfortable, durable, and

most importantly warm. Mrs. Cake had collected all

the left over pastries from Pinkie Pie’s party and

sent them in a basket. They’d reach their

destination a bit stale, but still edible. And

while no pony in the shelter would know who

‘parkle’ was on the birthday cake, that wouldn’t

stop them from appreciating it. Maybe they’d think

that ‘parkle’ sent the money along with the

package. Maybe not. All that mattered was that

some pony would be helped.

She hoped it wasn’t a mistake to give out that

book, but she thought she could trust Twilight

Sparkle. On this, at least, she wouldn’t blab her

secrets. Sweetie Belle would be back tomorrow.

She had to be careful. She wanted to give her

sister everything; the whole world if she could,

but Rarity knew what came of that. You couldn’t

give everything you wanted. Not even love, or it

would hurt.

She gazed out the window, singing softly under

her voice, “Badum ba-da-dum-dum…” As she sang she

remembered the dance with her sister in the empty

ball room. Hoof in hoof, whirling gaily, like they

never would again save for that one last time…

Slowly she lifted the lid of the chest and

reached down. The leaves were terribly brittle

stuffed within the faded red winter coat. There

were so many stains and splotches it was hard to

make out the original color. Her hoof softly

nudged a dry acorn still tied to the edge. Gently,

as gently as she’d stroked her sisters’ manes when

they were foals, she ran her hoof over the garment.

Then she closed the lid with a sigh.

Someday she might give it to Sweetie Belle, or,

perish the thought, a child of her own. It was

everything she would ever be. Would ever hope to

be. And so she adjusted her glasses, wiped away

any lingering tears, and continued her work; being

all that she was.

Simply Rarity.

Reference

Simply Rarity

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