//------------------------------// // 17: The Miraculous Crescent // Story: Obsolution // by not plu //------------------------------// The long walk was almost as quiet as she’d imagined it. As she’d prepared herself for. There was the soft rambling of the wind which caught the branches and their remaining brown leaves, rustling them against each other. And the compacting crunch of each hooftstep into the snow. And that was it. Maybe if she’d had the mind to pay attention to it, she could have heard voices, cart wheels, animals, the usual. But all that was in her ears was the hollow wind as it grazed her cheeks and the disturbance in the even, glittery snow which she caused again, again, again, as she walked onwards. It wasn’t nearly as quiet as she’d imagined it. She could see her destination far before she reached it. Part of her longed for the candy-colored everyday, the technicolor visual noise, the... well, anything other than this dichromatic wasteland. Gray sky and white snow and brown trees and gray stones, sticking out of the expanse of the field like... like something, anyway. The wind wove unevenly through her fur as she walked, not nearly as committed to a direction as she was. She could feel her body temperature cooling with the passage of time, letting the snow in, slowly, and yet she couldn’t find the motivation to quicken her pace at all. Without even really intending it, she continued on, pulled almost magnetically to a destination she wasn’t even consciously thinking about. And then she stopped.  She tilted her head upwards to the sky instead of what was right in front of her. Above her was an endless expanse of gray cloudcover, thick enough to obscure even a hint of the sky above. Applejack pictured the pegasi in Cloudsdale, casually walking on top of the vapor which would dissolve under anypony else’s hooves. And there was Applejack on the other side. She was avoiding the monolith in front of her. She knew she was, and yet she closed her eyes and she tilted her head back downwards. It’s the wind, she told herself. It was not the wind. Her eyes begrudgingly opened, and as she adjusted to the flooding light reflecting off the snow, they focused on something unmistakably large and unmistakably pink. In theory, she’d known about it. They’d consulted her on the designs, the dimensions, and inscription, the materials, the... everything. And she’d nodded and mumbled and generally tried to put her mind somewhere, anywhere else. So she wasn’t prepared to be looking at it, or rather, to be looking at her.  An uncannily perfect Pinkie Pie was staring back at her. Every strand of fur, every curl in her mane captured in imported pink marble by the finest sculptors in Equestria. Applejack reached out a hoof and brought it lightly to the surface. It was so cold. She backed up slightly, and began slowly circling it, taking it in from all angles, brushing clumps of snow and ice off its surface as she went. There were even fancy gemstones Applejack couldn’t even name which made up her cutie mark. It was opulent, breathtaking, magnificent. Applejack wanted to throw up. Instead, she faced it head on, like she had done a million times before, with the same stern look she’d given Pinkie a million times before. Only this time Pinkie’s eyes continued their same glassy emptiness as Applejack urged her mind not to turn Pinkie’s preserved smile into an eternal sneer. She took a deep breath, the cold rough against the inside surface of her lungs. “Hey.” She let the word hang in the air for a moment, an idiom made visible by the soft cloud of breath which dissipated into the wind, too. Her brain racked through things to say, pulling strings of ideas into half-baked sentences which never really felt complete enough to commit to the reality of actually saying them. She didn’t even know if she had to, after all.  She reached a hoof back out and closed her eyes, imagining the cool surface warming, flush with life again. She squeezed her eyes even tighter shut, willing her hoof to feel Pinkie’s soft heartbeat or the constant antsy twitch in her muscles, anything more than this lifeless chunk of marble that seemed to mock Applejack with how close and yet how far it was from being her Pinkie. Please, she found herself willing the universe, please Celestia give me something, give me anything, give me... And then, she felt the surface under her hoof start to warm, the texture start to soften from stone to fur, the muscles underneath expand and contract with control, with life. She nearly jumped back, flinging her eyes open to see it, to have Pinkie back alive in front of her, to hold her, hear her, smell her, see... ...pink marble. Perfect and cold and dead as Twilight Sparkle’s royal decrees. Perfect and cold and dead as Rainbow Dash’s press appearances. Perfect and cold and dead as Rarity’s newest fashion line. Perfect and cold and dead as Fluttershy’s animals. Perfect and cold and dead as Applejack’s words to everypony. Perfect and cold and dead as Pinkie Pie would always be. Perfect and cold and dead as the Elements of Harmony. How could she do anything but cry? A hoof was turning her over, exposing her frozen snot and tears to the world again. She instinctively covered her face, only to feel that pulled away as well. She kept her eyes firmly shut. “Applejack.” The firmness yet distant warmth of the voice let Applejack know who it was without even needing to open her eyes, and yet she did anyway. Her eyes didn’t need to adjust too much– it apparently was already night, and the stubborn clouds meant a dearth of moonlight. The snow formed a further expanse of sameness, interrupted by the pony standing in front of her. “Is there something I can help you with, Princess Luna?” Almost imperceptibly, Luna smirked. “I appreciate your humility, but perhaps I should be the one with that question, Applejack.” Applejack paused, her eyes cast downwards. “I... I already asked.” Luna shook her head slightly, the galaxy in her mane rippling with the movement. “You asked my sister,” she said softly, as Applejack’s eyes shot back up, filling with hope, “and she had a very good answer for you.” She closed her eyes again.  “So then you can’t help me.” She’d almost let herself forget about the cold, but she could feel the wind creeping back in. “For being the Element of honesty, you’re not being very honest with yourself about what you need, Applejack. I know you want the pain to go away, but it won’t. No memory spell could solve that.” Whether out of respect or out of stubbornness, Applejack found herself at a loss for words. She took slow, careful breaths, letting the cold air course through her. She no longer thought about warmth, nor the felt the sting the temperature brought to her.  Was it always this cold? “You know it was not.” Will it always be this cold? “You know it will not be.” Then how do I make it stop hurting? “You warm up.” Applejack had known warmth, once. Maybe even many times. She’d known campfires and fireplaces, oil-lamps and chandeliers, apple cider and fresh cookies, hoofshakes and hugs.  There was a time when just seeing her friends had given her that same warmth, caused her cheeks to flush with excitement and her hoofsteps to feel lighter, carried by the warmth that exuded from each of them. Warmth which was missing from her interactions with each of them lately. The uncomfortable cold which Luna had created for her to stand in felt familiar– it was the cold distance between her and her friends.  There will always be magic behind our friendship, right? In that moment, Applejack had agreed with Twilight, nodding along with everypony. And in that moment, she’d really believed it. No one had ever known Applejack like the five other ponies (and one dragon) in that room, and she was pretty sure that no one ever would. It’s not like she was one to really let ponies in often. “Do you remember what you dreamt that night?” Luna’s question halted Applejack’s train of thought, twisted as its tracks were. She blinked, not wanting to bring it back to the forefront of her mind. “Of course I do,” she said softly– more breath than intention. “And do you know what any of your friends dreamt?” Applejack shook her head slightly, keeping her eyes locked on Luna’s, as if she could get the same insight from them that Luna could from hers. “You all had nightmares, Applejack. Different nightmares, yes, but nightmares nonetheless. And you all have been restless since then.” “I didn’t want to dream about her...” Applejack whispered, feeling the words vaporize into the night air as she spoke them aloud. “None of you did,” Luna held her firm eye contact, letting each word fall into place in Applejack’s soul. “Maybe you should.” Applejack did not dream that night. Just cold, dark emptiness, stretching on and on until the sun rose on another day of farmwork. Maybe we should.