//------------------------------// // An Account of Terrifying Elderly // Story: Stereotypical Side Stories // by JinxTJL //------------------------------// "Can't y'all jes' wait outside?" The exasperated voice floating out from the front of the orange pony trotting on four orange hooves had the colt rolling his eyes even as he was walking—even though his mother had told him that was dangerous. Whatever. She wasn't the sardonic gesture police. He'd do what he wanted while she wasn't around and couldn't lecture him for it. "No, I cannot 'jes' wait outside. That's undignified—not that you would know,'" Light snarked back, making extra sure to put mocking emphasis on the stupid accent she had. Of course, then he felt a little stupid, trailing after the farmer in the middle of an apple orchard. Mocking accents was fine and fun on its own, but he had to be careful of the degree of separation between irony and sincerity. Villains were never sincere. They lied at every turn, and their environment had to reflect that. It had been a whole five minutes since they'd passed through the disgustingly sincere gates to the Apple family orchard, and they were just then coming up on the filly's house. Twenty minutes earlier, the stupid little orange eyesore he knew as Applejack had rudely sought him out on an otherwise perfectly dreary day, taken him by the hoof, and demanded that he play with her. Like a tyrant. He'd only gone along with her because he respected that sheer defiance of niceties. Otherwise, he was furious and enraged and he made sure his mood and expression reflected that. Unfortunately for his startlingly venomous grimace, Applejack wanted to go to her house first to get something she'd forgotten, so his face was kind of starting to ache from holding the expression long enough to set a passerby ablaze with it. Kinda hard to walk right with how his soul-piercing gaze was starting to fuzz, too. He was not going to just waste a good lour, and it did not mollify him to set the glare on the backs of the filly's dumb, double ponytails. No matter how hard he squinted, her hay-like hair just would not set fire. Maybe if he used a match. His 'friend' went silent after giving a hefty sigh at his response, and Light certainly wasn't going to readdress her, so they spent the rest of the short walk in silence. Boring, utterly demeaning silence. When they came up to the front of the relatively towering building amidst the apple trees some longer-than-short time later, he'd nearly mentally talked himself into turning around and just leaving the ugly mule to her own devices. Wasn't like he'd even get anything out of this interaction. Stupid, ugly mule. He really should've just... gone home. He didn't know why he was sticking around. He didn't even want to play with her, and he certainly hated even looking at her. With her... stupid, dumb green eyes that gleamed in the light like worthless, overpriced emeralds. Dumb, orange fur that reminded him of the scent of cinnamon and pumpkin patches. Her coarse, hay-like hair that blinded him every time it caught the sunlight. The color complimentary red apples on her flanks that... did not make him jealous at all. He hated it all. And her. He hated her and how beautiful she was. It made him sick to his stomach. She was just so- Something yanked at his ear, and he let out an indignant—yet dignified—cry of pain as he teetered back on his still-moving hooves and nearly toppled over. The pressure eased, letting him right himself to set a furious glare on the frowning orange monster as he rubbed a hoof over his poor, bruised ear. "What was that for, you jerk?!" Applejack—brawny Orange Hooves—gave a nonplussed huff and rolled her eyes- what? How dare she mock him?! "I was talkin' to you, and you were zonin' out like a dog in a crab apple field." She shook her head while he started at her odd simile, scoffing at him as if... as if he was scoff-worthy! "Don't you ever pay attention?" Light snapped out of his stupor of thinking about crab apples, readjusting his glare back to its full, acidic force as he stomped his hoof into the dirt. "I do pay attention, just not to the trash that trash like you talk about!" The smug satisfaction that rose in his chest at Applejack's hooked grimace almost instantly died as she jerked her hoof forward and- ow! His legs failed him as most things often did, sending him back onto his butt as he cradled his now aching horn in both hooves. Muffling a curse into his lip out of sheer, spiteful defiance to let her hear him in pain, he barely eked a cringing eye open to watch as his aggressor turned with a snort, casting another glare at him before she ascended the stairs of the short porch towards the half-open stable door. She swung its bottom open, turning to rudely grumble at him. "Jes' wait out here a minute, an' try not to boil over!" With that, she turned and walked inside, shutting the bottom of the partitioned door as he glared after her. Oh, and she probably thought he didn't hear her murmur 'ya half-baked black pot,' but he happened to have great hearing! All villains did—they had to in case somepony tried to assassinate them! He was the only one who'd be doing any assassination, thank you not so much. He waited in silence for a moment, still holding a hovering hoof to his... still aching horn while he hugged the other to his chest. After a moment, his grimace fell into a sneer, and his voice raised into his most obnoxious high tone. "Wait outside, Light. Don't boil over, Light. Don't strangle me to death on account of being so mean and dumb, Light." He let his hoof fall and pushed himself to stand, well underway on devising new circuitous insults as he hurriedly trotted up the short set of stairs, pulling the stable door open with an overblown snort and slamming it behind him. Stepping into what appeared to be the Apple family's unsurprisingly simple foyer, his eyes hurriedly darted about the room, cataloguing every bit of minutia he could. Table in the middle on a shaggy, boring rug. Lamp full of lightning motes in the corner, because the Apples were archaic. Shuttered window. Book nook in the wall—the Apples could read? A disgusting amount of family pictures on every surface, all full of ignorant, smiling fools. Across the room was a staircase that climbed around the corner and out of sight. Light Flow, the dastardly villain who came in uninvited, stared at the possible entryway to further schemes for a moment before he jeered at it. Holding his head up high, he turned away, trotting to the right towards the eye-high saloon doors that separated the room from another. His life didn't revolve around Applejack! He didn't need to go trotting after her like a lost puppy! Now, it was well past time to go snoop through her house! Pushing the saloon doors open daringly, without care for the potential consequences, he strode into the adjunct room with confidence! He sought out the points of detail in the new room, searching for fallibilities. Flaws to exploit. Structural weaknesses. Bookshelves—a table on a rug—another stable door leading out to the left—a normal door leading in on the opposite wall—more stupid pictures—a rocking chair on which sat a- Oh. A mare. Light stopped short, adopting a surprised expression that quickly fled into a small, wide-eyed frown as the evidently very elderly mare, resting on her rump with her quilt-covered hindlegs hanging over the edge of the plush rocking chair, peeled two auburn eyes open through a mountain of bags. For a moment, Light was honestly stunned. The mare—Applejack's grandmare?—was, just maybe, the oldest-looking mare he'd ever seen! Her skin was less comparable to skin than it was to a very large, very unfitting bag that a mare had been poorly draped in. Like... a sagging mound of wrinkles that had mutated and started walking. Like a picture drawn by a bad impressionist! If that picture had also been drawn with, say, a tightly pulled white topbun and a faded, orange shawl spotted with little sewn apples. A very homely appearance all together with her peachy, orange-speckled fur, he could say. Either way, the elderly mare's appearance was disgusting and nauseating, to say the least. She'd opened her eyes the moment after he'd barged into the room with vim and vigor, and as his confidence turned to apprehension, her barely-recognizable wrinkled scape of a face split in a well-worn smile. "Well, what a pig-pickin' surprise!" The mare's voice was like scraping balloons if those balloons were also wrinkled and inexplicably country, setting Light further on edge as she leaned gently forward to the tune of creaking bones. "Yer' Applejack's angry lil' new friend I been hearin' about, ain'tcha?" Light watched for a moment in well-guarded apprehension to see if the mare—or walking corpse—would rise from her chair—or fall into her grave!—but she only scanned her saggy eyes over him once or twice before settling back into her creaking seat. It seemed as though she wasn't a threat, but that didn't mean she wasn't a weakness. He could exploit her, probably. Loved ones were always weaknesses. All he had to do was... um... ...something—he'd figure it out, alright!? Any plan began with confidence, he knew, so he made a show of straightening and threateningly firming his chest, tossing his head and adopting his most aggressive expression. "We aren't friends, I'm merely using her as a means to an end!" he announced grandly, stamping his hoof into the floorboards and making the house tremble. It was a thoroughly intimidating display, such that the mare had to hide her obvious terror behind a façade of laughter. She was clever, he'd give her that much; rocking back in her chair and easing her head back with a wheezing cackle of a chuckle as she slapped a hoof to her quilt was an ingenious method of throwing him off. Not that he was. He was perfectly in control of every situation ever. Ask anypony—if they manage to answer through their trauma-induced screams. Light remained totally firm and stern, not welling with frustrated tears as the mare's laughter died out, and she fixed a disarmingly coy leer on him. "Izzat right, you lil' bent fiddle?" She rocked back on her creaky chair, chuckling—wheezing—again as she reclined very conspicuously calmly. "Why, I'm tremblin' in my horseshoes. What kinna ends you been anglin' 'fer?" She was mocking him. Oh, she thought she was safe, did she? She thought he was just some little foal, did she? She thought... oh, she thought there was no way he could ever hurt or dismay or startle her in any way. She felt safe, did she? Oh, well Light was feeling pretty safe, too. He didn't have to cow to the pounding in his head, and he didn't have to let the tears fall. He didn't have to run away and cry into his pillow, and he didn't have to stomp his hooves and throw a tantrum. Fine. If he had to take this seriously, then fine. He would. He was Light Flow, and he was going to be the greatest villain of all time. He could handle one old mare. His eyes darted to the left—the way he'd come in, a dresser, some pictures—then as far right as he could look—a tattered scrapbook on a small table on a rug, another saloon door, and... bingo. Nearly in the corner of the room beside an open window, there sat a sickening sight if he'd ever seen one. A very traditional shrine dressed up in all the typical finery that ponies devoted to... ugh—Princess Celestia. A small, round table holding a shallow bronze bowl in which sat a single, rosy red apple, above which hung a glossy, black and white portrait of the great Goddess Herself. The photo's frame was well adorned with faux-golden chains of interlocking loops and intermittent little suns—prevalent and visible because of how blindingly they caught the sun beaming in from the open window. The shrine was more than well maintained, it was immaculate—picturesque, even. It literally looked as though it'd been ripped from the religious nut's manual for looking like a mindless zealot. He'd seen churches with less mindful artistry than this! Well, no he hadn't—he'd probably catch fire if he set hoof in one—but the hyperbole stood. It was a concoction of pure and total goodness, and with the addition of the twin vases holding leaning sunflowers—the usual offering—on either side of the table, Light had himself some devious ammunition. It was an obvious object of faith—devoted faith, even. He turned a sly eye to the old mare laying back in her rocking chair, once more seeming content to nod off to her incessant old age music—creaking wood. Hah. Not even looking at him. The confidence of her lifespan was an unsightly thing, indeed. Enfeeblement was no merit. Time to break this old hen apart, feather by feather. Light Flow, the cruel master of all ages, stood taller, lifting his chin and taking a breath as he closed his eyes with a smug smile. "I'm actually glad you asked! My first plan is to tell Applejack about all the evils of Princess Celestia and the Solar Faith!" The rocking chair creaked once more, then went silent. Light—feeling ever so victorious—kept his curled grin as he opened his eyes to see the elderly mare stood straight in her chair. Gone was her expression of placid toleration; the mare now leered at him through harshly squinted eyes, almost leaning out of the chair with how rigidly her hooves were set on its railing. Hm. Actually, even through all the wrinkles and sagging fur, her frown was kind of... stark. Eh. Who cared? The elder's elder only stared at him for a moment, while her expression grew... somehow less recessed. Her furrowed brows, beginning to twitch ever so slightly, were kind of popping out of the wrinkled canyon of her forehead, which... seemed more weathered than ravaged all of a sudden. Weird. "Now, that ain't no way fer' a colt to be speakin' in this house," the mare suddenly spoke, far less kindly than she had before. Light knew a thing or two about animosity, and the matriarch's solid, stony tone—bereft of whistling breeziness—was somewhere between clenched jaw and clipped words. Clear and concise, but simmering with heat. Pfft. Like he cared! He didn't! Light let out a fearsome chortle, tossing his head grandly and brushing his mane aside to accentuate his mighty horn—his weapon. "I'll speak however I want, wherever I want!" He lowered his hoof to his proudly puffed chest, taking a step to look the mare right in the eye. "I don't just mindlessly listen to orders like your dumb grandfoal!" That had her oddly chiseled jaw grinding. "Y'all better learn some manners a'fore I clip that rotten stem a'yers and throw that sorry rear over this here knee." The elder gave a huff as she settled back, keeping her glare with its growing spark on him as the end of her frown hooked up in a snarl. "If'n yer' parents ain't 'round to do the teachin', then ol' Granny Smith ain't afraid to lay it all out." The grumble—the increasingly warning grumble—fell on deaf ears as Light snorted dismissively, waving his hoof about his head as he turned. "Yeah, alright. I'm so scared of the hundred year old mare in the comfy chair!" He put on a dismissive show of trotting a few steps away, turning over his shoulder to sneer at the decrepit fossil. "I'll just be over here for the next hour while I wait for you to get up." In his own humble opinion, it might've been one of his best taunts—all the way up there with the time he'd told some dumb foal to do a backflip off some playground equipment. How he'd laughed when they'd landed on their forelimb and it went pop. This was almost as good, and he probably wasn't even going to get grounded! Very soon now, he'd be in perfect position to... ...do whatever he was trying to. He had to stop and think to himself about himself for a moment, though it was only a moment before an odd, anachronistic sound compelled him to turn around to the mare. It was... a chuckle. An honest, decidedly unearnest chuckle from the previously termed decrepit fossil who was... smiling at him. At his insults. Light's ever-present frown deepened with confusion as his jaw worked for an answer, finding none except the possibility that the old hen had just gone batty. What else was there when faced with such startlingly venomous words? He must've driven her insane with rage, or something. Served her... right? While Light tried to reconcile the oddity, the old mare continued to chuckle—no, it more resembled a cackle. "Aw, izzat right?" she spoke with a coy tilt, settling more snugly into her chair and smiling wide as though she'd won all the world and more. "Y'all think ah'm jes' a feeble ol' mare who can't do nothin' to some quick 'n feisty youngin' like you." The mare went silent save for her smile, and her... there was kind of a disconcerting glimmer in her eye. Just... something about those interestingly piercing auburn depths that screamed... danger? Daring? Fire? Light blinked, and for a quietly concerning moment, the mare just didn't seem all that... old anymore. It was eerily as though she wasn't small and hunched from age, but from poise—the terrifying tension before the leap. Her skin was saggy and wrinkled, but it wasn't loose, it was tight on her straining flesh—straining with flexing muscles. Her devil-may-care grin was reck-flaunting and spoke of dangerous acts, more suited to an adrenaline junkie than a kindly old grandmare. The spots and creases of age that marred her face shifted in the changing light of his mind, appearing once more as nicks, scrapes, and scars. That gleam in her eye was... ...dauntless. Light didn't feel all that safe, anymore. Actually, he felt kind of worried. His mouth fluttered open—weak and uncertain—to give some response that... didn't come. And thankfully, it didn't have to. "Liiiight!? Where'd y'all... oh." The obnoxiously childish cry for his whereabouts from the other room trailed off as the saloon door pushed open and a familiarly white-freckled face poked through. Relief fluttered in his chest as their eyes met, and—no. Not relief, sorry, it was anger. He was angry that she was... ...here to deflect attention away from him. Yeah. How dare she. Applejack's mouth hung open for a moment as she stood in the doorway, flicking her eyes between him and her grandmare until they settled on her grandmare and she walked the rest of the way in. "Um." Her uncertain address of her grandmare didn't even warrant a glance from the elderly mare, still... staring at him. Light's own freaked out attention drifted from the mare to meet his... acquaintance's gaze again as she stepped towards him, looking more than a bit conflicted. "I guess... y'all met mah granny, and..." Her creased gaze trailed to her grandmare. "...Granny, y'all met Light." For another few moments, it was silent, even from the now-halted motion of the rocking chair. Light continued to fidget and eye Applejack's grandmare nervously, the named elder continued to try and succeed to smother him with her sharp gaze, and Applejack... just stood in silent concern between them. Until the oldest mare in the room opened her mouth. "Well, welcome on into the party, Applejack!" The old mare suddenly exclaimed, drawing her grandfoal's attention while she... did not take her eyes off Light. Still, she continued to address her family loudly, fondly, and somewhat aggressively. "Why, I was jes' about to show yer' lil' friend here one'a mah best tricks!" Her eyes dropped to a lid—a smug lid. "He was practically beggin' fer' it." With that terrifying sentiment, a disconcerting chorus of creaking and cracking filled the air as the mare began to rise— and at the door, Applejack faintly blanched. "Oh—granny, y'know you don't need to go to all that trouble!" his friend chattered with flagrantly put-on brightness as she leapt forward with a tellingly grave expression, hovering apprehensively at her grandmare's side as the elderly mare waved her off with a murmur. The mare's ascension reached a peak as she kicked her quilt off to flutter to the floor, revealing a cane at her side and the bony sight of her hindlegs which hobbled as she slid off the chair onto the floor—without the aid of her cane. Applejack, pacing around her cautiously with one outstretched hoof like she'd somehow fall down at any second, quickly darted to retrieve the hooked length of carved wood, holding it out to her grandmare with a worried frown. But the old mare waved her off with a chuckle. "Aw, never you mind, little apple. Y'all know ah don't need that darn thing." With her grandfoal fended off, the elderly mare straightened—somehow appearing even less elderly as her creaking limbs quieted and she steadied. "You just sit back an' watch yer' old granny while she shows why there ain't a foal on Equus can talk down to this farmer." Applejack's jaw drifted open in consternation for a moment as her grandmare took a step forward, oddly... rolling her bony shoulders and flexing out her hindlegs which gave more than a few unflattering snaps and creaks. Finally, as her elder showed no signs of listening to her own anatomy's shrieks, the filly's head hung forward with a sigh and she turned to set the cane back onto the chair's side. Light watched the entire spectacle in quiet shock and fascination, no longer entirely sure why he was even here as Applejack cantered over and plopped herself down at his side. Oh, he was sitting, too. When had he done that? This entire thing was spinning out of control. He didn't think there was any way to get it under control. At this point, he was just hoping he'd get out of here undamaged and punishment-free. Screw being a good villain—he just wanted to go home. He watched the old mare in front of them for another wide-eyed moment as she continued to stretch out somewhat obscenely, before leaning over and catching his frowning acquaintance's attention with a whisper. "What is she doing, exactly?" The orange filly's ear perked to listen to him, then she sighed in the other direction and shook her head dismissively. "Just... watch, an' applaud when she gets all the way up." Light blinked in bemusement at that nonsensical statement, though he barely caught another quiet murmur. "Not like she'll settle down, anyway." He was getting a bad feeling. Kind of like the sicky butterflies in his stomach had finally choked and died, and now acid was bubbling up around them. There must've been a word for that feeling, right? Was it indignation? Whatever it was, it only intensified as the old mare in front of them seemed to finish her stretches, and she... ...began to tilt back. Over the course of just a few seconds, the extremely old-looking mare who he'd reckoned was days from a cold grave gradually lifted her hooves from the ground. Up and up they went as her back fully straightened, her barrel pushed out—clearly defining the pulling muscles underneath— and her back legs wobbled then held strong and firm. The overpowering noise of creaking bones rubbing against each other and unoiled joints popping only seemed to spur the old mare on, holding her forelimbs out on either side of her for balance, brazenly exposing every inch of her unbelievably toned physique until... until... She was up. Standing upright on her hind legs like... he couldn't even hope to do. He'd tried once, and it'd made his hips hurt so bad. He could still feel the phantom stinging in his bones, and staring at the mare with her forelimbs cocked on either side of her flexing hips just... he couldn't even imagine. He'd called her old. Now she was standing twice as tall as him, and he felt dumb. He felt... like a jerk. And that was weirdly... unsatisfying. Light's gaze fell from the mare in a desperate bid to.. to hide that he was welling, okay?! He hated crying, but he was, because he'd been shown up. Utterly. Everything he'd said had just been dashed to wimpy dust. He'd been rebuffed, and he'd been humiliated. He lost. A sharp fweet pounded on his eardrums before he wincingly pressed his ears back to muffle the whistle, and looked up to see the old, victorious mare grinning at him. He blinked warmth out of his eyes to flick a glance to Applejack, who... looked uneasy? Grim? The feeling was getting worse. His fear was very unfortunately mollified when the old mare's creaky voice drew him back to her, still grinning. "An' fer' yer' edification, lil' sprout," she chuckled, deepening as he gave a double-take at the... word he didn't know. She paused for a breath, lidding her eyes cockily as she hummed. "—ah'm actually a hundred-forty-three." Light's brain exploded. Or, more accurately, something short-circuited, and Light was left gaping blankly for words as the filly beside him let out a shudderingly weary sigh. Meanwhile—though Light could hardly process it—the unfathomably old mare let out one last wheezing cackle before she began to... tilt... back..? Her back bent inch by inch while her hindlegs stayed solidly rooted, and as her forelimbs gradually reached out behind her, her shape began to approach something like a half-circle. All the while, and as her stomach fluidly rippled in the light, the air filled with a myriad cacophony of flesh twisting and bones cracking—but never snapping. Nothing did. Everything... every part of her just... yielded to the mighty force of her dexterity and sheer will to continue bending. Down and down until, with a subtle click, one of her forelimbs made solid contact with the floor. And her hindlegs lifted from the floor. Her second hoof came down, she gave an audible groan of exertion as she rose... and in the span of a single blink, her hindlegs came up, and her back straightened. He'd experienced this before, reading about a funny phenomenon involving two pictures held side by side. In one eye, he could see how she'd been—upright, her forelimbs on her hips—and in the other, he could see her now—upright, her hind legs crouching on the air above her. Two impossibly similar pictures, but all he could see were the differences. Burned into his vision like a brand. She'd gone from standing upright to standing upside-down. She was doing a hoofstand. The mare must not have been mortal. He'd been tricked. He was in the presence of some otherworldly demon. To say he could physically feel the embarrassment creeping up the back of his neck may have been an understatement, because as the slightly wobbling back of the mare—flexing and tensing such that he could swear her entire skeleton was on display—gently relaxed, and the mare's head where her hooves should have been curled forward until they were eye to eye, Light genuinely thought he would crumple into himself like a sinkhole. The mare, her gleaming auburn eyes still twinkling with smug satisfaction, let out her latest and greatest wheeze, showing every one of her pearly whites. "Age ain't nothin' but a tally, youngin', an' I think ah'm winnin'!" There would never be another moment as singularly sobering as this one. There was genuinely no point in acting superior, because he'd never be able to beat this mare... at anything. She literally towered over him. He felt small. He felt like a child. Sudden tremors rumbled through his rear as the filly beside him suddenly began to clop her hooves raucously to the floor, cheering with whoops and hollers as her grandmare cackled on and thanked her. Whatever. He was deaf to their merriment. Who cared. He didn't. He only had eyes for the floor. Probably where worms like him belonged. It was where he continued to look as he stood, ignoring whatever his friend... or whatever said as he unsteadily trotted forward until he could see the edge of a raised eyebrow where hooves should've been. He kept his eyes off her as he tried to raise his voice, but it really only came out as a whimper. "Sorry, ma'am. Thank you, ma'am." If the old mare said anything, he didn't hear, and if his friend was looking at him, he didn't see. It was hard enough just to hold it together in the room, and by the time he pushed through the saddle doors on his way to the front, the tears were beading on his chin. He exited the Apples' cursed abode with its demon granny guardian with some semblance of his typical thought, though he could hardly put venom behind it. He hardly even felt it. But he was right. Nothing good ever came from spending time with Applejack. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Applejack looked after the brown-furred colt she wasn't quite ready to call her friend with some apprehension as he left in a rush. He was up to her Granny and out the door faster than she could really say much about, leaving her wondering what in tarnation had happened before she'd come in. A'course, knowing her Granny, and knowing Light as she was getting to, it probably wasn't something very pretty. She didn't see any marks on him, though, so Granny probably hadn't hooved him a ticket for some new teeth. She glanced back to her Granny with a frown, and just like her, it only took a moment for the mare to stop frowning and start smiling. She nodded her head towards the door—an awful awkward motion, what with her standing on her front hooves and all—and clicked her tongue. "Aw, g'wan an' get 'im." The affectionate twang had Applejack smiling even though she didn't really feel like it, darn it. She stood, anyway, already turning to go trot after that weirdo she only kind of liked when her Granny's voice rose. "You whip that colt into shape, little filly, 'cause he needs it if'n he's ever gonna be part'a this family." Heat rushed into her cheeks as she whirled around to her cheekily grinning grandmare, protesting as soon as she picked her tongue up off the floor. "Granny! That ain't- that's-" She ended with a frustrated grunt, still feeling like her cheeks were on fire, and finally settled for just turning and trotting through the door. While her Granny just laughed out after her. Just like her, it was. It all almost made her forget that Granny Smith would be sore for days after this. She wasn't a young mare, anymore, no matter what kinda age-defying stunts she pulled. And no matter how hard she or Big Macintosh tried, and no matter what they said about little Apple Bloom needing her Granny for as long as possible, she'd just been so... reckless since their parents passed. Like she... like she was trying too hard. Like she was trying to make up for it, or something. Or... no... nevermind. The whole thing just... ...made her sad.