rarity-isms

They’d been stuck in the elevator for about an hour, and considering the energy blasting going on outside, they probably would still be there for several more hours until somepony had enough time to do something about their situation. 

Twilight sighed, slumped against the jammed door. 

At least the oxygen spell was holding well enough. She’d always wanted to test it. Always thought she might take a dive deep down into the ocean and cast it there. This definitely wasn’t what she’d expected. 

“You used to flirt with me more.”

The alicorn blinked, then looked to the other side of the elevator, towards the alabaster unicorn leaning against the wall, her expression incredibly neutral considering her remark. 

“…What?”

“You used to flirt with me more,” Rarity repeated. 

“No, I—I heard that. I just—What?” She licked her lips. “We’re stuck in an elevator.”

Rarity’s eyes widened, her hoof pressing against the cold steel wall. “My gods. Are we? I hadn’t noticed.” When Twilight frowned, she smiled apologetically. “I apologize. I was only trying to lighten the mood.”

“I—” An explosion somewhere in the distance interrupted her train of thought, grasping it and thrusting it towards more important matters. How would she get them out where the action was, the important things that had to be dealt with? She stood up, scanning the top of the elevator and the hatch that refused to open. “Why are the magic locks still in place?” 

Anxiety tore open her chest. She was a princess, she wasn’t supposed to be stuck in an elevator, she was supposed to be doing important things like defeating—

She turned back to Rarity, who looked completely nonplussed, examining her hoof. 

“What do you mean ‘I used to flirt with you more’?”

Rarity didn’t immediately reply. In fact, she didn’t even immediately look at Twilight at all, her eyes set on her perfectly manicured hoof. Eventually, just a second before Twilight prompted her, always one step ahead, she looked at the alicorn and spoke. 

“I was just thinking that you used to flirt with me more before,” she said, perfectly collected. “It was an observation. I was looking at you, and I was thinking how this is the longest we’ve been somewhere together with nothing distracting us—”

A third explosion. 

“Nothing we can do anything about distracting us,” she corrected, “and that got me to thinking that I can’t remember the last time you flirted with me. I wish that you did more.”

Twilight’s wings plastered against her sides, her ears flattening against her skull. What a time for this, whatever this was? 

“I told you yesterday that your dress looked really nice,” she said. 

“So did Fluttershy and everypony else at the gala,” Rarity replied. Then added, her long eyelashes fluttering, “It was a very nice dress. I hope our room survives whatever is happening upstairs, actually. I’d be devastated if it’s damaged.”

Twilight didn’t know how to parse any of this. What was happening? Wait. Was Rarity actually breaking—No. She wouldn’t. Right? No. 

Right? 

“Don’t change the subject,” Twilight replied, her full attention now on the unicorn. “What’s going on? Where is this even coming from?”

“I don’t know, actually,” Rarity replied, looking away, up towards the little panel and the arrow stuck between B2 and B1. “I’ve been thinking of Sweetie and Spike, and how cute they are in those—I suppose the ‘honeymoon’ period or what-have-you, and I wish we were there, too.”

“The honeymoon stage is literally just a… a mental state because it’s a new relationship. It’s literally all chemical, it’s the endorphins of having a new and unexpected thing in your life, it’s adrenaline. They’re just giving each other adrenaline.”

“…Yes, I know that, Twilight. I wasn’t exactly born yesterday. That’s not what I meant. I meant that—” She paused, and the lightest color framed her cheeks. “I wish I felt like I give you adrenaline, I suppose.”

“Right.” Twilight licked her lips. “If it helps, you do still do that. Like, for example, right now, this instant, you are absolutely creating a lot of adrenaline in me.”

One second, two seconds, three seconds passed, unicorn staring at alicorn. 

“Twilight,” Rarity said, and she laughed all of a sudden, like windchimes, eyes wrinkling with affection before rolling her eyes with a devastating incredulity one could only learn from being married to Princess Twilight Sparkle for five years. “You know very well that’s not what I meant.”

“Yes, I know that’s not what you meant,” Twilight replied, said adrenaline ebbing away as she raised an eyebrow. “What you want is for us being stuck in this elevator to remind me that life could end at any moment and I should be all over you because of it.” She smiled politely. “Or something like that.”

“What? No.” She looked away evasively. “Well. Perhaps not exactly like that. But we’d have to be in real danger for you to do that!” she whined piteously.  

“Ohhh, how awful we’re not going to die!” Twilight gasped. 

“Oh, har har.” Rarity fell silent again and then said, oddly subdued, “I just…”

“You what?” Twilight prompted, softly. Not upset, just trying to find the heart of the matter. 

“I just miss when you weren’t so busy,” she confessed, and then barrelled onwards the moment Twilight opened her mouth, “I feel terrible about it, but ever since you became a princess, it’s as if… you’re always the Princess. When we go out, you have to be perfectly presentable and acceptable and amenable, and I understand! I enjoy putting on those airs, too, but outside. Sometimes. Not always. And yet, even at home, when it’s just us, you—” She trailed off, ears lowering, apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

A fourth explosion sounded off. A roar, too. 

Twilight felt heavy as she sat down, everything happening outside fading out into the background. Truthfully, she couldn’t remember the last time she sat down like that to just think without thinking because she felt obligated to think.

“Rarity, I—” She drifted off, and it wasn’t that she was avoiding looking at the unicorn because she was ashamed, necessarily, but because… it was hard to think about how things so often got in the way. This shouldn’t be happening like this. It shouldn’t be happening at all, to be frank. 

“I really am sorry,” Rarity repeated, contrite. “I know this is terrible timing for this.”

And that in itself struck the alicorn. Not because it was wrong, or it wasn’t actually terrible timing, but because she was apologizing for it, as if—

“You know,” the princess began, “back when we were first dating—Actually, even after we got married, I used to schedule in ‘Rarity-isms’ into my calendars. Every day, I’d allocate a buffer of at least an hour so I could be present whenever you had one of your moments.”

She could see Rarity’s face scrunch up in protest. Practically hear the indignant, ‘well, excuse-me.’

But it never came as Twilight confessed, “it was one of my favorite parts of the day. It was the one time that I didn’t have to plan, or think, or expect, or prepare, all I had to do was be there and figure it out as it happened. I could just exist. I had to think, not just think about thinking. And then I became Princess, and I thought that was silly, and I had to have everything planned or else, and then I stopped planning Rarity-isms, and then all my time has just been… I don’t even know! I’d say it’s not even working out and it didn’t make me be better at my job, but you know what’s the worst part?”

After a moment, Rarity giggled. “That you’re still very good at your job?”

“I’m still very good at my job!”

“Look at you,” Rarity admonished, putting on an affronted air even as her wife walked over and nuzzled her, stifling a laughter, “don’t even have the decency of letting bad decisions affect your work ethic! The gall.”

“Just awful”

“Terrible!”

“The worst.”

It was moment later when a fifth explosion rocked the elevator that Twilight finally detached herself from her wife, but not before leaving an affectionate kiss on her forehead. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t been giving you more attention,” she said, sincerely, before playfully adding, “I promise I’ll make more of an effort to remind you that you make me feel adrenaline for other reasons than me thinking you’re about to divorce me.”

“Twilight Sparkle, you ridiculous mare,” Rarity replied, grinning brilliantly, “the only reason I would divorce you is so I could remarry you. I wouldn’t mind a second wedding if we ever get out of here.”

Twilight frowned. “They are taking forever.” She sighed. “Here. I’ll just teleport out, see what’s the situation, and then come—”

“Wait. Stop.”

Twilight stopped, regarding her wife and her frozen look. 

“What exactly do you mean ‘you’ll just teleport’ out? Twilight Sparkle, I’m about to kill you. Do you mean to tell me you could have teleported us out at any time?”

“What? No. I mean, I can’t teleport you out because of the specific magic locks in the building, but I can teleport myself out. But not you.”

Rarity stared at her. Twilight stared back. 

“Then why in Equestria did you just stay here! Twilight.”

“What? What do you mean? Because I didn’t want you to be all by yourself,” she replied, as if it was the most evident thing in the world, which it was. Or, well, was evident only to her, apparently, judging by the color on the unicorn’s cheek. Her smirk. It was shameless. “…Rarity. Really?”

“What!” Rarity huffed.

“Ooooooh, you don’t know how to flirt, she says—” Twilight began.

“That’s not flirting, Twili—Stop! Stop—!”

“Oooooh, you’re not romantiiiiic, she say—”

“Twilight Sparkle, enough, I’m telling you—”