Her muscles ache, her eyes stream; the fibres of her being are ripped, frayed at the edges. After a night's rest they will knit together, entwining like snakes and winding her ever tighter, the drawstring of Cupid's bow. Pinkie meets her when she lands, full of energy, of innocence. She doesn't know about flight, the mad folly of the fall.
It would be so easy to just let herself go, to collapse into her friend and steal that innocence for herself. This time, she doesn't.
But her muscles ache, her eyes stream; sooner or later, something will come crashing down.
Pinkie is not known for her patience. The world blurs by, and she cannot bear to miss it. Yet, she waits each day to watch Dash's practice, to take in the blurs of colour Dash leaves behind as she carves through the sky. She wants to share that feeling, and knows she cannot.
But, somewhere in the hurried doodles of her mind, Pinkie knows that there's more than one way to fly. So what patience she has, she gives away freely; and when her friend staggers, exhausted, to her side, she smiles. Some things, she thinks, are worth waiting for.