Rarity sat huddled on the dressing room floor, sniffling as she beheld the task before her. On one side of her were the shoulder pads with their frayed tassels, the diamond-studded buttons and a single, chipped ruby. With them were over two dozen pieces of torn fabric, sewed together and arranged in a way that they were beginning to resemble a sleeve. Rarity found some solace in the fact the gold thread helped her know where to start, like the round edges of a jigsaw puzzle.
But it was of little comfort, as the other side of her showed; there lay the rest of the suit, haphazardly piled. She levitated two pieces from the pile and brought them in front of her, bringing them together. She looked at them intently (or as well as she could, given her eyes would water still), swapping their positions, rotating them in place, going through every possible combination. When it became clear they didn't fit with one another, she groaned in a small, miserable voice, and threw one of the pieces back