“Promises, Promises”
(RainbowPie)
It was the end of the world—or, at least, it felt that way to Rainbow Dash. Up was down, black was white, and nothing would ever make sense again, all for one very simple, very disturbing reason.
Pinkie Pie was late for a party.
Pinkie Pie was late for a party.
“Try not to worry so much, Rainbow,” offered Twilight, smiling in apparent blissful ignorance of the incredible hypocrisy of what she’d just said. The unicorn was already seated upon the picnic blanket spread out beneath one of Sweet Apple Acres’ most prized apple trees. “I’m sure Pinkie will be along any minute now.”
Dash frowned at her friend. “I’m not worried. The Dash does not worry.”
Twilight just sighed.
Meanwhile, Rarity, who was reclining on her little fainting couch, waved a fore hoof in the pegasus’ direction. “Our dear Pinkie is probably just finishing a batch of cupcakes or some other overzealous dessert.”
Rainbow Dash grunted noncommittally in reply. They didn’t understand. They didn’t know. They hadn’t been the ones who witnessed that godforsaken party last year on Pinkie’s birthday, and they hadn’t been the ones who saw the stark terror in Pinkie’s eyes as the earth pony blurted out, “You remember me!”
Nothing good ever came from seeing Pinkie Pie afraid like that. Not ever.
But just as the churning in Dash’s stomach intensified to the point where she almost didn’t want to finish off the entire plate of fritters Applejack had made, a familiar pink figure came into view. Seeing Pinkie Pie didn’t stop Dash’s stomach from churning, however. Because Pinkie wasn’t smiling, and Pinkie wasn’t bouncing, and Pinkie wasn’t laughing. On the contrary, she was trotting along at a positively languid pace, and her face looked pensive.
Rainbow swallowed and tried to ignore that awful feeling in her stomach. Meanwhile, the rest of her friends started waving and calling out to Pinkie.
“Howdy, pardner!” greeted Applejack, wearing a broad grin. “You got some cupcakes in those saddlebags of yours?”
Pinkie merely shook her head in reply. Then, taking off her saddlebags, she reached inside and pulled out a small stack of envelopes tied up neatly with a blue ribbon. She dropped them down right in front of Rainbow. Half curious and half afraid, the pegasus leaned forward to peer at them.
Instantly she recognized her own mouth-writing, and she frowned in confusion.
“They, um, came in the mail today,” Pinkie Pie explained, her voice wavering ever so slightly. “I … I guess there was some kinda mistake, and the letters were supposed to get delivered a few weeks ago but they didn’t, and …”
She trailed off uncertainly, but her gaze never left Dash. Pinkie’s eyes were always a blue as bright as the sky itself and almost frighteningly intense, but right now, right here, those eyes nearly burned a hole right through Rainbow Dash.
“Uh.” Dash scratched her head, wondering just what on earth she might’ve done wrong. “Sorry about them not gettin’ to you, Pinks, but I swear I sent ‘em every—”
Pinkie’s voice lashed out like the crack of a whip: “So you really did send all these letters?”
Rainbow Dash paused. She couldn’t quite interpret the meaning of Pinkie’s tone, that tightness and that tension, but she knew she’d best tread carefully. The sudden and unusual silence of the rest of their friends was also disquieting. To say the least.
“Of course I sent them,” Dash finally replied. “C’mon, Pinkie, who else has such awesome mouth-writing? I wrote one every meal break we got at the Academy.”
“Every meal break?” echoed Pinkie, blinking as if trying to understand some very complicated and arcane subject matter.
“Yeah. Nothing too long or too fancy, I mean, but still.” Rainbow Dash chuckled and gave a shrug calculated to look casual. “I promised you that I’d write to ya, didn’t I?”
Actually, now that she thought about it, she wasn’t entirely sure that she’d promised to write. But she’d known Pinkie wanted her to, and she’d always intended to, and she figured that was close enough to actually making a promise. Besides, even if she hadn’t technically promised, Pinkie should have known.
Softly, almost inaudibly, the earth pony repeated, “Every meal break …”
Slowly, like the dawn flooding the world with warmth and with light, a smile spread across Pinkie Pie’s face. Rainbow smiled in return.
“Dashie! You really did remember me!”
And then, just as a bright pink missile of affection hurtled forward with forelegs spread wide for a rib-crushing hug, the smile disappeared from Rainbow Dash's face in record time.