My little girl as sweet as cloudcream
I’ll dance again when you come home
Someday
Now come close Jeweleyes
Let me brush the tangles out of your mane
Come to me my beautiful girl
A creased sepia photograph fluttered to the floor. Rarity as a little filly smiling on a beach somewhere with the sea at her back. Muffled sobbing. Silver Belle brushed frantically, obliviously. It hurt and Rarity tried vainly to cry out, but the sound would not come.
Beautiful girl
“Beautiful mornin’, Beautiful,” Applejack said.
The discrete words fell to pieces against the sieve of Rarity’s semi-consciousness, but a pleasant sensation passed through and swept away her dream. She latched onto impressions of warmth and cooking smells, and hauled herself toward conscious perception.
“S’dark,” Rarity mumbled. Her back ached. She was upright instead of supine. She saw only blackness. She lifted a forehoof to pull away her sleep mask, but nothing covered her eyes. “Is it morning already? Why is it still dark?”
Waking normally entailed a ritual process steeped in comfortable familiarity and tolerant of procrastination, but blindness and alien surroundings precipitated a flurry of motion. Rarity fumbled and flailed, emitting pitiful cries of alarmed disorientation until strong limbs reached out to steady her. She knew them in an instant. The smell of stale alcohol hung close, redolent of misadventure, but behind it Rarity caught a heady, musky scent she had come to know and covet. It was nearly enough to bring her fully round.
“Whoa there,” Applejack said, gently half-whispering. “I gotcha.”
“Applejack,” Rarity murmured.
“Reckon I am,” Applejack replied, so close but totally invisible. “It’s still dark and we’re still in the clouds, but I promise it’s morning.”
“A wake-up kiss?” Rarity purred. The ensuing contact was a glancing blow in the darkness, snapshot quick and a little hairy, but there was ripe fruit and a hint of wintergreen that suggested a breath mint had been consumed. The feeling was there. As a stimulant, it roused adequately. A second effort roused more adequately.
“Is it really time to get up?” Rarity asked after disentwining herself. “Somehow I had forgotten how the winter nights linger in the North.”
“Doesn’t feel like mornin’ without the rooster crowing and the smell of Granny’s coffee on the stove, or the sun peerin’ over town, but the steward’s pocketwatch swears it’s so,” Applejack said.
“Then you’ve been up and about,” Rarity said. “You must have found your air legs at long last.” She laughed lightly. “After last night’s thorough betippling, I’m frankly amazed you can walk at all.”
“It’s a well-known fact that we Apples don’t suffer hangovers,” Applejack replied curtly. Unseen in the dark, she grimaced and rubbed her left temple with the corresponding forehoof. “Too bad I’m half Orange. Anyhow, the fact we passed through that storm in one piece has helped raise my comfort level. At least we didn’t wake up in dire need of Pegasus wings.”
“Some vacation so far,” Rarity said. “Have I told you how grateful I am that you’ve come? Expect frequent reminders if only for my sake.”
“I go where you go, Missy. That’s how this thing works,” Applejack declared. “For now, how ‘bout we both go hit up the dining salon for some coffee and victuals before we get to port?”
Rarity followed into the passageway. Outside their small cabin the ship’s scanty lighting barely sufficed for tentative navigation, but now that she was awake the darkness was nothing a little hornlight could not ameliorate. On the other hoof, surmounting the narrow metal staircase to the dining salon proved daunting. The ubiquitous bombilation of the engines was louder in the thin-walled stairwell, and the sound filled her ears and buzzed around inside her skull. Halfway up the single flight, a sudden motion of the ship staggered her and she reared back to wrap her forelimbs around a thin metal banister bolted to the wall. Her breathing quickened and her light spell flickered and died.
“Come on. Up you go,” Applejack said, extending a hoof. She proceeded practically to tow Rarity the rest of the way to breakfast.
After coffee and pastry were acquired, Rarity disclosed that she had dreamed of Aunt Silver all the previous night.
“I knew she loved me dearly,” Rarity said. “Or perhaps fiercely would be a better descriptor. When I was very young we clung together so tightly it seems odd in hindsight, but then we shared an understanding of the world. Of beauty. I expect my parents were either envious or simply confused. That time feels like a dream now, like a story from some other mare’s life or from some book. So many of my memories with Aunt Silver are a jumble, but I know she played a leading role shaping my identity and setting me on the path I took. I imagine who I might have been if she'd never come to Ponyville, or if she’d never left. I can’t help but wonder which of my idiosyncrasies are merely the residue of exposure to an eccentric aunt, and which are uniquely Rarity.”
Rarity sighed, and went on. “I suppose if nothing else it is uniquely Rarity to be making the tragedy of somepony’s dying days all about me.”
Applejack laughed. “I will flat-out guarantee that you’re one of a kind,” she said. “Y’know, I think losin’ someone close makes us all turn a critical eye on the time we had with them. It’s only natural. But fixatin’ on the past is half kin to trying to change it, and that there’s a road to nowhere. Too much of dwelling on changin’ what was only ends up changin’ what is for the worse, and that’s bona fide Apple wisdom you can take to the bank.”
Rarity reached across the table to grasp Applejack’s right forehoof with both of hers. “Thank you, Dear. That’s helpful. You know I like ‘what is’ rather a lot. In the interest of preserving it I hereby forswear self-recrimination and pointless speculation. Let it be done.”
“Good luck,” said Applejack. “After all these years I’m still working on followin’ my own advice. At least you can say your goodbyes pony to pony. Ponies talk about ‘closure’ like its some kinda mystical cure-all for the heart—that’s ridiculous. Anypony who’s done a lick of livin’ is a little heartsick every day. But I reckon a proper goodbye matters.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” Rarity said, staring blankly at half a danish. She had started to drift inward into the haze of foalhood memory. The photograph fluttered past again. It occurred to Rarity that she had never seen the ocean as a filly. The picture had to be a false memory, but she could see every crease and tear stain as clear as day. She remembered a flood of tears.
Goodbye Jeweleyes
Just for now until we’re together again and we can dance
I’ll be saving that dance for you
It's a promise
Rarity knew her family had never gone to the seaside, but suddenly she felt with unshakable surety that the picture was not the product of a fitful sleep. Her subconscious had trawled the deeps of her memory and dredged up something genuine, inexplicable though it was. The captain's voice then interrupted her thoughts, also sparing her an apology for failing to respond to Applejack’s last several statements. Pertinent facts were reported: Whinnyapolis lay just ahead; the ship was descending; they should collect their things and prepare for disembarkation; it was currently fifteen degrees below freezing.
“That’s cold. Seems like somepony oughta talk to the Crystal Empire about settin' up a proper weather shield,” Applejack said.
“I think they would miss the winter dreadfully here,” Rarity said absently. “I’m looking forward to the feel of it. In any event, I’ve packed warm things for the both of us.”
A half hour later the Blue Horizon was secured to its mooring mast and the passengers in their inadequate scarves and jackets were politely but expeditiously bundled across thirty pony lengths of frozen field and into the heated skyport terminal, there to wait while a dozen brawny porters in heavy winter coats and thick wool balaclavas retrieved their luggage from the ship. Rarity saw that her parents were waiting in the arrivals lounge at the same moment her father shouted, “Heya there kiddos!” To her surprise, Sweetie Belle was nowhere to be seen. The older ponies crossed the intervening distance with astonishing speed. Flesh was pressed and enfolded. Cheeks met cheeks. Rarity's father’s mustache was as bushy and bristly as ever.
When Rarity was finally released, Applejack tipped her hat to each parent in turn. “Sir. Ma’am. It’s great to see y’all,” she said, keeping a safe pony length’s distance. It was no use, and she was inevitably bear-hugged. As always, Rarity’s mother insisted that Applejack call her Cookie. Rarity’s father would not openly admit how much he enjoyed being called “Sir.”
“Well, you two, how was the trip?” Rarity’s father asked. “I hear it’s a real mess out there. Hope you didn’t get too shook up. Never did care much for air travel.”
“We’re fine, but never mind that. How is Aunt Silver?” Rarity spoke quickly. “Our bags should be here in a moment, but we can send someone back for them if you think we should hurry on our way.” Her parents simultaneously froze like startled deerfolk before sharing an anxious glance. The look betrayed them immediately.
“Oh, Celestia,” Rarity said, barely managing to choke out the words. “We’ve arrived too late. You’ve come to break the news. That’s why Sweetie Belle isn’t here. Oh, Celestia. Oh, no.” She could not hold back her tears.
“Dear Heart, come here,” Cookie said. She stepped toward Rarity and raised a forelimb to pull her close. They held each other for long minutes, until an apologetic porter came by to deliver the travelers’ belongings. All the while, Rarity’s father stood in uncharacteristic stoic silence. Next to him, Applejack’s brows were furrowed in obvious concern. She had removed her hat and clutched it to her breast.
“She passed away yesterday evening,” Cookie said at length. “I’m so sorry you missed her.”
Rarity struggled to digest the information. The loss hurt, but it was a surge of guilt that set her knees trembling. She had missed all the years of Silver Belle’s life after she left Ponyville and now she had missed her last chance to try to make up for it. She thought of the strange photograph, and suddenly remembered how Aunt Silver had hurried to snatch it off the floor and hide it away in the depths of her big green satchel. The mystery would go unsolved. She imagined Silver Belle blank-eyed and unmoving, probably on ice by now. She knew from the last letter that there would be no embalming, no viewing, so she would never see her great aunt again. She assured herself she had responded to that letter. She was positive she had. She finally noticed that Applejack had at some point moved to stand beside her, close enough that they were touching, and she managed a grateful expression.
“Listen, Kiddo,” Rarity’s father began. “I know this is all a lot to take in, but there’s another thing you need to know before we go back to Glory’s place.”
“What?” Rarity said, looking up at him after realizing that she had been staring at a small gouge in the terminal's wood floor. “What else is there?”
“It’s about Aunt Silver’s estate, Honey. There was a real surprise there. A real shocker, you could say,” Cookie said, again sharing that anxious glance with her husband. “I guess she must have known it was going to be her time because she’d called her lawyer over yesterday morning, and he just stayed all day. He said she wanted the will unsealed and read right then and there. I have no idea why.”
“With half the ponies still crying their eyes out. Just imagine!” Rarity’s father exclaimed, shaking his head.
Rarity was certain that she could see once more where this was going. “She’s cut us out, hasn’t she? Because I didn’t keep up with correspondence as well as I should have and I didn’t visit her while she was ill. I’m so sorry!”
The deer look ensued, followed by the anxious glance. “No. That’s not it at all, Dear Heart,” Cookie said. “Actually… You see… The truth is—”
“The truth is she left every single thing she had to her name to you,” Rarity’s father finished. “It was the rest of your mom’s family that got cut out of the will. You can imagine how well some of them are taking the news, eh? Now that you know, I wouldn’t blame you if you got right back on that airship.”