Diamond d grown men talk rarity
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She opened the door with a flourish, turned, and addressed the empty boutique. She pulled the thin, barely perceptible red lace over her eyes and huffed. Rarity strode into the boutique with purpose, levitating a small bag of bits from her cash box and stowing it atop her head, beneath a red pillbox evening hat from her display window. “I am Rarity! And I will find another before the night is through!” “Two can play that game!” she told the crumpled picture on the floor. Picture Spike’s cheery grin crumpled into a sad little frown under the mare’s anger. “But! You! Wanted! Somepony! Else!” she accused, bouncing up and down on the photograph with all four hooves to punctuate every word. She slapped the photo to the ground, grinding it into the plush carpeting with her hoof.
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“I let you have a chance at all this! But did you appreciate it!? Of course not!” She spun around and wiggled her rump enticingly at the photo. “’Oh,’ everypony said, ‘he’s too young for you! That’s weird! Surely he’s not stallion enough for such a refined lady as yourself!’ But did I listen!? No! Because they didn’t know you like I did, didn’t know how mature you really were! And I gave you the chance!” She looked to the sky and waved her hooves around dramatically. “You were just a wide eyed little boy, following me around like a stray kitten! I thought that having a few more years under your belt would change that!” “You were nothing when we met!” she shouted bitterly at the grinning Spike in the picture. The picture floated gently over to Rarity where she could scowl directly at it. Her magic wrapped around the broken frame and each of the tiny glass fragments and dumped them into a dustbin in the corner. “Now look what you’ve done!” she accused. Her horn flared brightly with magic as she gripped a pan from off the stove and rocketed it into the living room where it smashed against the picture frame. Sitting there with that smug little grin on your smug little face… Think you’re so damned smart let’s see if you’re smarter than this frying pan!” “Oooooooooo!” she furiously hooted as the sight of the photograph fueled her ire to greater heights. He’d been so proud when he’d received it that he’d rushed right over to tell his marefriend all about it, and she’d insisted immediately on capturing the moment for posterity. He was standing in front of the boutique, holding a framed diploma for some sort of honorary degree that he’d been awarded from the university in Canterlot. She stopped her angry stomping as her eyes fell on a framed picture of Spike that sat on the end table near her couch. She stomped into the small living room that connected her kitchen to the boutique showroom.
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She repeated this several times until she realized that all she was doing was making herself sweatier. She paused at the base of the stairs, gave an angry “Oooooooo,” and turned to stomp back up. Rarity stormed down the stairs angrily, her hooves stomping loudly the whole way.