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Chapter Text

There was a certain eroticness to blood. Rarity didn't know if it was the color or the way it flowed out of an open wound. There was just something so attractive about it. She kept her fingernails pained the same color as her blood. It was a light byzantium color. If she could, she would have painted her walls that color and bought every piece of clothing in it, too, but she was afraid it would clash a little too much with her hair's mauve and eggplant color. She had a certain reputation to live up to, and mixing absurd colors was something she could simply never be caught doing.

The year prior, she was sitting with her best friend Fluttershy when she got a paper cut. Strangely enough, the sweet and rust-smelling liquid that seeped from the small abrasion was not the same purple as Rarity's. It was butterscotch. And Rarity knew it would also taste like it. She stared as her friend lightly dabbed the cut with a napkin and spoke quietly about how clumsy she had been. She haphazardly tossed the napkin in front of her. As she continued to speak casually, all Rarity could think of was the blood. Something about it made her want to take it, to sew it into the inside of her clothes so she could smell the sweet copper at any time. It took all her willpower to not reach out for it. The shade of yellow she could have never thought of as beautiful. The mental image of it pouring onto a wood floor, smearing as Fluttershy struggled to stand or sit up, stirred something up in her stomach and mind. It was a feeling she had never felt before. Rarity immediately needed to know why.

Not why she felt the way she did- that was something she could easily guess- but why their blood was a different color. Though she feared it may have been a bit difficult to understand why, she ran to Twilight for some kind of answer. She had nothing to offer, nothing other than offering to write a letter to pony-world Twilight. A little part of it seemed juvenile, but Rarity hesitantly said yes. The letter she got in response was nearly four pages long and full of random historical context Rarity had absolutely no care for. Pony-world Twilight described various physical differences between the three kinds of ponies. Earth ponies were the most like the humans in Rarity's world, or as similar as they could be. They bleed the same shade of crimson red, and their bones had a similar density. Pegasi, on the other hand, bleed the dark yellow Rarity had seen with Fluttershy. Because they had to fly, their bones were hollow. Not entirely hollow, but a little more than some pony would see in a bird. The book pony-world Twilight was referencing didn't have much to say about the pegasi human counterpart However, one could assume the human had much lighter bones. Unicorns bled purple. Rarity could have assumed that very well.

She thanked Twilight and went about the following days trying to relive the original feeling. Every movie and online video she ever watched had blood as a central theme. If it didn't involve some kind of violence or complete gore, it was about as interesting as a ten-hour history of woodworking documentary. Nothing felt the same. She was touching the blood. She wasn't feeling or smelling it. Simply watching a young woman with pale blue skin and auburn-color hair sit back in a half-awake daze as a faceless figure cuts open her skin with a straight razor and then assaults the wounds until it's two inches deep doesn't feel the same. Taking a razor or knife to her thighs and lower stomach was only a little bit better. 

At some point, she would need to do something more.

Chapter Text

Today was the first day in a long while that I wore jeans. Jeans, not pants. I could handle something like satin or corduroy, but it is so much harder to remove blood stains from those fabrics. Alcohol and baking powder are typically my best friends in cases like this. Not today, though. Sadly. The harsh jean material is absolutely atrocious. I bandaged my thighs, and I tried my hardest to wrap them tight. The fabric, however, keeps brushing against them, practically taking them off. I am completely risking blood seeping through and revealing myself. I knew I should have worn something underneath. Or a long dress. They typically aren't my style, but a quick change in appearance wouldn't been good.

A girl could only hide scars for so long. There comes a point where I'll have to go back to my original dress. All my skirts and dresses only reach up to my mid-thigh, and I have plenty of thin red and purple lines below that. At some point, someone will have to question me,

But that day is not today. Applejack came galloping up to me when I walked through the front doors of Canterlot High. She practically applauded my change in apparel. She was wearing her usual jean skirt except this one had small embroidered flowers thrown around in a random pattern. They didn't look like any flowers I was familiar with. I won't judge. I could never judge someone as dear as my good friend, Applejack.

"Applejack, darling," I tried to ignore the sharp pain in my thighs. I shouldn't have worn jeans. "How is everything?" We began to walk around the hallways to waste time before our classes.

"Well, Rarity, in case you haven't been able to tell," she motioned toward her skirt and laughed, "Apple Bloom has found a new hobby in tinkering with all her clothes. And she ran out of her own, so she moved on over to mine and Big Mac's. I think she may have been spending just a bit too much with Sweetie Belle," she laughed,

"You have to tell her I'm always in the Carousel in case she wants any lessons."

"I might have to keep that from her. I know fully well that Granny Smith wouldn't want me to encourage some hobby we all know won't last any longer than two months."

I laughed. "Still, if this happens to last a little longer those two months, I spend a lot of time in my shop."

We ended our conversation right by my locker. Applejack went over to speak to Wallflower Blush, and I was left alone. I sighed as I opened my locker and took out my notebook. I knew I didn't have any time to find the restroom so I could fix my bandages. The rule here is no hall passes during homeroom, so I'll have to deal with the pain and hope nothing leaks through.

I am constantly afraid something will leak through. Principal Celestia or Vice Principal Luna will be standing somewhere in the hallway right as I walk past and, unknown to me, the slight look of blood will drip down my leg and ask me about it. There isn't much that I can lie about. There is something about them both that makes you tell the truth, almost as if there is some magical aura with them that forces you to tell the truth. Considering everything that has happened in the past, it might be kind of realistic. If I can get through homeroom, then I am going to be perfectly fine. When the day comes to an end, I can go home and sleep, and then continue to act like everything is normal tomorrow. 

My teacher, Little Note, tells us we have no assignment. We are told to either write in our daily journals or read something. She spends the class period staring at her computer screen and ignoring almost everything people have to say. I hear some people make fun of others and mock everything they do. So much for that entire friendship thing we attempted earlier. Did our songs and dance mean nothing to them? The majority of these people make me sick. I know they shouldn't. I know Twilight or Pinkie would tell me something about how I shouldn't judge another person, especially if I don't know anything about them, but it seems like the only thing for me to do is judge them. They go out and do it all the time. Don't I have the right to do it, too? I'm scribbling some dress designs in my notebook when I overhear Fluttershy's name. Lemon Spots, I should have expected.

Something about Lemon has always bothered me. It's like she's a recreation of how Sunset was during our first year here. She walks around with her equally obnoxious friend group and makes fun of every person they walk by. They murmured Fluttershy's name, and I could feel the blood in my body heating up. I could hardly hear anything they were saying, but I just knew none of it was good. I could hear it in their far too-hushed whispers and laughs. I spent the entire class period staring at them, wishing something would happen to them. I cannot wait until they finally get what they deserve. I don't know what they deserve yet, but I know that Lemon Spots deserves something terrible. 

By the time the bell rang, I drew about half of a dress, and it wasn't a good one. It was this vague shape with polka dots thrown around. I would have been able to draw something comprehensible if it weren't for Lemon and her terrible little minions. I stare deeply at them as they stand up and walk out of the classroom. I follow directly behind them and continue listening in as they move from insulting Fluttershy to some other people I wouldn't even be able to point out. Lemon dresses almost entirely in shades of yellow and occasionally red. All of drowns her out. And her light, peachy skin color makes the entire thing worse. No wonder she feels the need to insult everyone possible. It makes her forget her unfortunate genetics and terrible fashion choices.

There are occasions when I feel bad for thinking all of this. I keep having to remind myself that almost all of this is deserved. People who go out of their way to insult and berate other people don't deserve any respect, and I am not going to pretend that I can stand them. I know Twilight would tell me there might be something more going on with their lives. There might be some deeper reason why they act the way they do, but I care far too much about all of my friends to stand the idea of someone insulting them. The day will come when these bullies realize the effect of what they do. 

The day is already becoming too long. It's hardly even ten a.m. I cannot wait until I can go home and redesign the horror of a dress I drew earlier. At least I can see Fluttershy during lunch in a few hours. Seeing her always undoes any bad thing that happens.