Ribbonless Rarity

barley-mops:

“Well, I am kinda curious about seein’ what yer world’s version a’ Ponyville is like, but ye also raise a good point about people seein’ me walkin’ around ‘ere.” He takes a few bites of his own muffin and starts to think. “Maybe if I keep me mouth shut and put on some kinda disguise, that could fool ‘em enough?” He shrugs.

“And as fer ‘ow long I’m stayin’ ‘ere, I don’t really now tha answer ta that.” He scratches his chin as he chews. “I came ‘ere ta see if ye were doin’ well, but ye seem ta be all good now. I guess I could leave if ye don’t want me around anymore…” Then, he perks up. “Wait, if in this world everypony is now a ‘hoo-man’, does that mean there’s a tall, fleshy version a’ me walkin’ around ‘ere as well?” He looks up at Rarity expectantly.

Rarity blinks. “I… I suppose that might work. There is a slightly… rural part of town, and I am not terribly far from it… but I cannot very well cart a green horse around. For the dye…” she rubs her temples. “It is doable, but high risk.

“I have not met a person like you, but it might not be a stretch. You said there was a horse version of me.” Rarity pauses for a beat, realizing what she just said. “… Any way. I suppose I might have some spray hair colour in the bathroom from last Nightmare night. I hope you don’t mind Black.”

barley-mops:

Barley groggily raises his head after hearing all of the noise. “Hmm? Ah, good mornin’ lass. Did ye get some good rest?” He slowly gets to his hooves and stretches, several smalls pops are heard as he bends and flexes his forelegs, causing him to flinch.” Oh sweet Celestia, I’m gettin’ old.” When he finishes his morning stretch, he sets on his haunches and looks up at Rarity.

“Oh, yer lookin’ good lass. Looks like ye were right, only a wee bit a’ rest and ye’d be right as rain in no-time.” He yawns, and then goes over to his saddlebag. “By tha looks a’ thin’s, ye’ve already got yer breakfast covered, so I think I’ll get me own.” He pulls out a muffin of his own, wrapped in wax paper. “It’s not much, I know, but I never was a breakfast kinda pony, ta tell ye tha truth.”

“Muffins- the breakfast of champions, I say.” Pausing to yawn, her jaw pops so loudly it can be heard across the room. “So uhm. How long do you plan on staying? I would show you around town, but I think either A, I would just be talking to myself, or B, people would notice the talking green horse.”

She sets the other three muffins on the counter, as she feeds Opal. “Not that there is much to see. Ponyville is a pretty rinky-dink town.”

barley-mops:

He chuckles “Not really a mare-friend, per se. I haven’t seen tha lass in some time, so I haven’t been able ta talk ta ‘er again. But she is a great gal.” Then he turns his head and takes off his saddlebag, laying it beside him. “And ye don’t have ta worry about feedin’ me, I packed fer a few days, just in case. And as fer tha bed, well…” He settles down on the floor, “I’ve ‘ad worse, believe me.” He stifles a yawn and lays his head on the ground. “But now that I mention bed, I’m startin’ ta think that tha trip ‘ere might ‘ave taken more outta me than I first thought.” His eyes begin to droop down, but he fights to keep them up. “I can’t shake tha feelin’ like this ‘as ‘appened ta me before, visiting somepony and then noddin’ off at their ‘ouse.” He wearily looks up at Rarity.

“Ye don’t mind if I rest me eyes fer a brief moment, do ye lass? It shouldn’t be too long…” And at that, Barley drifts off to sleep, snoring quietly on the floor of Rarity’s room.

Rarity quietly follows suit, assuming she just had the weirdest fever dream ever. Waking up the next morning, she does her morning rituals for the first time in a week-

Shower, put in contacts, get dressed, style hair, attempt to make eggs- and fail, quietly get muffins from the corner shop and pretend she made them herself after burying the muffin clamshell container in the dumpster outside.

Wandering back into her apartment with the tray of muffins, she makes a muffled shriek. 

“I… what… but you are… and I am… and… and… Sick. I am still a little ill and it is the medicine. From the hospital.” Rarity blurts, as her mind races to keep her point of view intact. “Or I have gone insane. But at least my imagination is a good conversationalist.”  Nodding her head as she accepts this as truth, she smiles warmly at the probably now not sleeping pony on her floor.

barley-mops:

Barley looks at her, a brief feeling of Deja vu overcoming him. He smiles down at Rarity. “Ye know, I once met a pony like ye once. She was tough, independent, and she didn’t really care fer handouts that much either. If she wanted ta get somethin’ done, she do ev’rythin’ ‘erself, and I respected that about ‘er.” He chuckled “She once asked me tha same question when I visited ‘er one day, and I told ‘er ‘because I was worried about ‘er’, but that wasn’t really tha truth.”

He sighs again and lays down on the floor beside Rarity’s bed. “Tha real reason I visited was because I felt guilty. When I saw ‘er deliverin’ a package fer me in tha snow, me first thought was ‘If somethin’ were ta happen ta ‘er, it was all me own fault’. I didn’t want that thought ta be tha last thin’ I remembered about ‘er, so a few days later I went ta visit ‘er. But there she was, clear as day, doin’ just fine.” He let out a short laugh. “Then I proceeded ta get meself hammered and slept tha night and most of tha next day away at ‘er ‘ouse, but that’s something else.”

He waved a hoof. “When we last talked, that only thin’ I was thinkin’ at tha end was ‘I went and ran tha poor girl off, probably scarin’ ‘er out of ‘er mind’, and it started ta eat me up inside. I wanted ta make sure that ye were doin’ fine, partly out of me own guilt, but also partly because I didn’t want ye ta be sufferin’ because of me.” He lays his head down on the floor. “But ‘ere again, it seems like I was just frettin’ fer nothin’. Yer made of stronger stuff, and all I ended up doin’ was make ye doubt yer sanity even more.”

Rarity giggles. “Got a ladyfriend, then? Or… mare… friend… Whatever. Horse terms.” She rolls her eyes playfully. “I appreciate the concern, although I do wonder how you got outside of my apartment complex. And… yeah. Stay as long as you would like. Although I have no bed but this one. But you are a horse. But you are sentient. And also I am still not one hundred percent sure you are not a figment of my imagination, which would raise some interesting questions about my already questionable sanity.”

She looks thoughtful for a moment. “And now you have made my head hurt. Regardless, I think I have a half a sandwich in the fridge, and maybe some condiments if it takes your fancy.”

barley-mops:

Barley sighs. “Rarity, I understand that ye want ta be independent and be yer own lady, but there comes a time when ye need ta ask fer even a little bit a’ ‘elp. I can’t sit idly by and watch ye waste away like ye are now.” He nudges her hand with his snout. “If winter is comin’, then ye’ll need somepony ‘ere ta make sure ye take care of yerself.”

Rarity absentmindedly strokes his head. “You’re awfully soft.”

Rolling over onto her back, she looks over at Barley. “And I am not wasting away. I am just in a rough patch. That is all. I am back to work in a few days and will be back to normal then.” 

She peered at him closely. “So what was the real reason you came to visit?”

barley-mops:

Barley places a hoof on her hand. “No lass, yer not fine. Ya sound like ye’ve been through Hades and back, but ye’ve never ‘ad anypony ta talk to. Ye’ve been keepin’ ev’rythin’ in fer all this time, and it’s startin’ ta eat ye up.” He tries to tilt his head so that he’s looking into her eyes. 

“But ye don’t ‘ave ta do that anymore. I’m ‘ere ta listen ta ye, so go on,” He smiles softly “Give me an earful. What do ye say, lass?”

Rarity shrugs. “I do not need anyone or thing. Nor do I need to spill my heart out to talking horses that I think might be a sign of my mind slipping. Perhaps for the best.” she says, pulling the blanket over her slight frame. “As my grandmother would say, Winter is coming.”

barley-mops:

Barley tilts his head “Cricket?” He then shakes it and sighs. “I’m not tryin’ ta preach ta ye, lass. I only wanted ta see if ye were doin’ all right. I felt responsible fer our last meetin’ goin’ crazy, so I wanted ta see if maybe we could try again. Just two pon- er, creatures havin’ a civil conversation about anythin’ they could think of.

He walks to the side of her bed and looks her in the eyes. “Now lass, ye can tell me: What’s botherin’ ye? I’ll listen ta whatever it is, so please, just talk ta me.”

“About what? That over the past three years, every fashion house I have ever applied to has rejected my designs time and time again? That I am trapped in a job retacking furniture? That everything is going to pieces around me, and no one seems to notice the uptick in nasty beasties on the roads, or how the everfree forest looms ever closer to town each year?” Rarity looks a little faint from her outburst. “Things are going pearshaped and there isn’t a place to hide.” She starts to pant a little, and her eyes are starting to unfocus. Though she’s sitting, her upper half starts to sway before slumping over sideways. “I… I am fine. Just a little tired. That is all.” Rarity says, trying to regain her dignity and make it look on purpose.

barley-mops:

Barley watches as Opal moves around him. “I’m doin’ fine, lass. I managed ta find me friend a few days ago, so thin’s ‘ave been goin’ pretty well.” He moves closer to Rarity. “When was tha last time ye’ve eaten somethin’ lass? Ya look like ye could use a meal or two…”

“I had lunch. Most of. I am fine. The hospital cleared me, see?” She shows the wristband. “I am perfectly fine, nothing to worry about, I will right as rain in a few days, so what do you want with me.” Rarity starts to sound a little aggravated, running a hand through her hair. “And I have been drinking plenty of water, Mr. Jiminy Cricket.”

barley-mops:

Barley nudges the door open with his nose until it’s wide enough for him to walk into, and then steps inside. He looks around her room until he finally spots the disheveled Rarity sitting inside.

“‘Ello lass. It’s good ta see ye again.” He walks a few feet in front of her, and sits down, his yellow eyes glancing over her. “‘Ow ‘ave ye been? Me friend told me ye were lookin’ pretty rough last time she saw ye.”

Rarity looks a fair bit thinner then the last time he saw her. Sitting on the side of her bed, a sort of bemused expression on her face. “You sent that blue horse with the wings and the horn, huh?”

She stretches. “I have been okay. Rejection letters, fruitless trips to canterlot, and having to deal with stuck up city girls who cannot think themselves out of a paper bag. But I have been doing just fine. Got a cat, too. Named her Opal.” 

Rarity pets the shaved cat, who mulls you over with a sharp glare. Deeming you interesting, it jumps down to twine about your legs, every once in a while rubbing it’s teeth against you. “And you, Mr. Mops-the-talking-horse?”

barley-mops:

“Hmm…” He taps his chin with his hoof. “Now this reminds me of me place back in Manehattan. If I remember right, ye have ta press tha little button ‘ere-” He presses the button next to Rarity’s name and moves his head next to the intercom.

“Oi, Rarity? Are ye there lass? It’s me, Barley. I came ta check up on ye.” He thinks for a moment. “And please, don’t start freakin’ out. This isn’t yer imaginiation, lass.”

Rarity, assuming she’s dreaming, uses her magic to push the intercom button in her apartment and calls from her bed “Oh hello again Mr. Talking Bar Horse. I will buzz you up.” 

Barley hears a grating buzzing noise and the door infront of him clicks unlocked. 

“I am on the fourth floor, the door is unlocked.” Rarity yells, yawning. 

There is a rather rickety staircase just in front of the entry way, an open office to the left with a snoring crochety-looking old woman inside, presumably the landlady. The stairs creak under him, but as promised, the front door of 4b is unlocked and slightly open so he can get in.