((Prompt: How to fight loneliness.))
It was getting to Blinkie again.
It never used to bother her, how dim and gray it always was on the rock farm. The way the clouds would always roll and rumple, and never let much sun through. Father said rocks needed shade to grow. Too much sun would ruin a crop. That was why the farm was situated underneath the storage field the pegasi used to keep their spare clouds.
Blinkie never used to mind having a gray, cloudy sky above her, but these days it was different. These days she would look up at that oppressive blanket where there should have been blue skies and sun, and she would feel just like a vein of limestone between two layers of heavy granite. Ready to just crack under the weight of it all.
She pushed open the farmhouse door and stepped out. Mother and Father didn't stop her to ask where she was going; they knew she would return for supper. Father raised an eyebrow at her, nothing more.
Mother and Father didn't talk as much these days. Not since Pinkie and Inkie had left. They had never been much for conversation before, but anymore, Blinkie was lucky to ever get a word out of them that wasn't about which field the rocks should be in.
Blinkie knew where she was going. The same place she always did when she started feeling this way. The place Pinkie had shown her before she had left. Over the hill beyond the farm, to a squat little hunk of quartz that served as a seat overlooking a narrow mountain valley. Pinkie had told her to come here if she ever needed a friend. Blinkie found herself sitting on that piece of quartz a lot these days.
“Are you there?” she asked. There was no response. Blinkie shook her head. She was supposed to speak up loudly, or her friend wouldn't hear her. “Hello?” she called, more loudly this time.
“Hello,” her friend answered back. Her voice was distant, ringing from the other end of the valley.
Blinkie raised her voice again. “I needed to talk again.”
“Needed to talk again?” her friend repeated.
Blinkie nodded. “I guess lately, I've come here often, huh?”
“...Come here often?”
Blinkie snorted, and then burst into laughter. Her friend always knew just how to bring her spirits back up, using a cheesy pickup line like that on her. Blinkie's friend soon joined in her laughter, and the valley was filled with giggles.
She flicked a tear out of her eye. “Thanks. I needed that.”
“Needed that,” her friend agreed.
Blinkie rocked back and forth on her stony perch. “You know, you remind me of somepony.”
“Remind me of somepony.”
“My sister Pinkie always knew just what to say, just like you.” Blinkie smiled.
“Just like you,” her friend shot back.
Blinkie blushed modestly. “No, I'm not like her. I can't make ponies smile.”
“Make ponies smile,” her friend insisted.
“Okay,” Blinkie said, “I'll try.”
“Try.”
Blinkie stood up, using her tail to brush the dust off the back of her knees. “Well, I should go. I just want to thank you, because you're always there.”
“Always there.”
Blinkie turned and started back toward home, but she stopped and called out one last thing. “Oh, if you ever happen to run into Pinkie, make sure to tell her that I miss her and I love her.”
*
Pinkie Pie froze in her hiding place behind a hill at the end of the valley. Her eyes widened, and her hooves trembled. Her mouth went dry. Pinkie's heart raced, and she entertained the notion of simply staying silent.
She stole a glance at the quartz sitting stone and saw her sister still standing there, waiting for a response.
Pinkie licked her lips, and cupped her hoof to project her voice across the valley.
“Love you.”