Silver Spoon: A Narrative Fiction

Decent Essays
Two years after their gallant attempt to challenge Wisterian protocol, Silver Spoon discovered she’d been right. The tyranny of fashion couldn’t last forever…unfortunately.
Older, wiser, and several million bits poorer, Silver Spoon stared into the depths of her closet, at a complete loss of what to wear.
“Let’s see, it’s late September, so I could go with an autumn outfit…” Her eyes slowly traveled from the sweater dresses to the sundresses. “…but the summer stuff hasn’t gone out of style yet.”
That didn’t even get into the etiquette factors. At what point did casual slide into sloppiness? Where did young ladies draw the line between dressing fancy and showing off?
Dinner parties could be dressed up or dressed down at the host’s discretion, and Mother had not enforced a dress code, for she wanted Miss Rarity’s fashion options to be open.
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Just something I threw together. Oooh, but I do love your dress!”
They sat to dinner. The eggplant and roasted mushrooms provided Silver an excellent excuse to stay quiet without being rude. Not that she needed to say much of anything, anyway. Mother and Rarity dove into conversation right away and kept the atmosphere pleasant and chatty.
Aside from the initial “Good evenings,” Sweetie Belle had barely said a word all night. She politely ate her dinner and barely even looked at Silver Spoon, despite sitting next to her. Once she apologized for wrinkling the tablecloth when they sat down together, but that was all.
Still, two fillies couldn’t sit in silence for two hours. Eventually, somepony had to say something.
“So, um….” Sweetie Belle rolled over a half-eaten mushroom with her fork and looked around for a subject. “I’ve never really seen your garden up close before. It’s pretty.”
Level One polite dinner conversation; the stuff of Wisteria kindergarten classes. Sure, Silver Spoon could work with that. “That’s kind of you to say. Thank you, Sweetie
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