What was it that drove ponies to live all the way out here? Was there any real draw beyond the challenge? In the wintry shadow of the northern ranges, a stone's throw from the edge of the world - there is nothing here, she thought, beyond the stubborn satisfaction of rising to a meaningless task. Stubbornness, and disappointment, and now me.
The driver had let her off outside the ferryman's office before disappearing into the darkness with a curt goodnight. What little she could make out of the township may have been quaint, even charming, on any other day. She hurried inside the office without a second thought to her surroundings, suitcase dragging behind her, scarf wrapped tight around her tingling muzzle.
Inside was barely any warmer. It was a small, pointless room, populated by a small, pointless stallion seated with closed eyes behind a small and pointless table. There was a back door behind him, a shoddily-written schedule and an overcoat hanging on the wall besides it. The stallion was bare, but seemed unperturbed by the cold.
Rarity swallowed before clearing her throat. “Excuse me, sir?” One eyelid lazily lifted; he nodded a slow acknowledgement, the eyebrow wavering with the effort of staying up. She hated him already. “I um. I'd like to ride to Gael’s Tears, please.”
“The next boat departs in forty minutes,” he informed her in a low, lazy tone, eyelid closing again.
She blinked. “Couldn’t we leave now? It’s just that I’d rather…”
“Oh, I know, I know you'd rather. You city ponies have always got some place to be.” He pointed a hoof at the timetable hanging behind his desk and smiled banally. “But I have a schedule to adhere to, and I take a decent amount of pride in that adherence, y'see. The next boat departs in forty minutes.”
“Yes, but - ” she tapped a hoof on the wooden floor - “it’s not as if we’re waiting on anypony else, is it? We’re just about the only living souls in this flimsy little town.” She couldn’t keep her voice from wavering.
The ferryman’s smile remained static, but his eyes opened at last, narrow and focused, and Rarity wondered if she hadn’t misstepped. “Perhaps the schedule can be changed,” he said evenly. “Perhaps there's inclement weather. Perhaps there won’t be another crossing ’til tomorrow morning.”
A different kind of cold ran through her. What if I die here? She was struck suddenly by the thought - she knew it was outlandish, but— what if I die here, and my body is buried by the snow, and nopony knows where to look for me? Would they even look for me? What if they're all back in Ponyville thinking I'm just on business somewhere, and days just pass by, day after day, and the snow piles up…
Her tongue felt heavy in her mouth. “I’m very sorry, sir. I truly am. I didn’t mean to… insult your integrity.” He raised a sceptical eyebrow at her. She continued, quieter. “Please don’t make me stay here.” He grunted. “It's not the town, it's me, I don’t think I could… Please. I can’t stop here. I can’t stop now, not now, not like this, I don’t know what I might do if I stop now, I don't—” She swallowed, catching herself. I don't want to die here.
“Miss…” Worry creased his brows as he looked at her from across the room. His gaze fell downwards, shifted and blinked in thought as he chewed his lip. “I suppose…” He looked back up at her with a reluctant smile. “I could push it forward. Just a tad.”
Rarity forced a reciprocal grin. “Thank you, sir. Thank you very kindly.”
“Not at all.” He glanced at the clock on his desk. “Alrighty then. We’ll leave in thirty-five.”
~
“Tell me, tell me!”
“Naw, forget it, it was just… one of those weird thoughts.”
“Oh, forget it, she says! I know this little dance of yours, darling. Let’s skip it this time, shall we?”
“You… fine, look. I— I realised that there’s gonna be a last time. For everythin’. I mean it really hit me all of a sudden. It might well be a happy endin’ still, but there’ll be a last time that I kiss you. An’ it’s always comin’ closer. Every time we kiss, it comes closer.”
“...”
“Gah, I’m sorry. Shouldn’t have listened to ya. Should’a jus’ forgotten it.”
“That wouldn’t make it any less true.”
~
There was a narrow road from the back of the ferryman’s office to his dock that branched off about halfway down the slope of the bluff, becoming a rocky path that followed the shoreline north, away from the village. She’d walked it for a little while, briskly, trying in vain to keep herself warm. The ocean blew a chilling breeze across her path, pushing her inland, as if trying to turn her around and halt her journey. Even here at the home stretch, there was still something in her that wanted to give up.
She felt the weight of everything filling her up, constricting her insides - it pressed upon her heart and lungs, and though it yearned to be exerted, all she could muster was a deep sigh and a weak whisper: “fuck.” It was the only word even vaguely commensurate to it all. She barely heard herself, the word snatched away from her by the relentless wind.
Almost there, she thought. She levitated a stone from the side of the path and hurled it into the water. Almost there. Then you can go home. Another stone cut through the winter air, entered the water with a barely audible plop. Go home. See your friends and family. See everypony you love. Everypony you…
The pendant was still in her parka pocket, she remembered, and she dug it out with a trembling forehoof and held it in front of her face, squinting in the harsh wind. Its gold chain rattled meekly. Her eyes closed, and there was soft, pale orange before her, and a sterling silver diamond on a loose-hanging chain, and the hint of a smile just above it…
Eyes shut tight, she hurled the memento towards the horizon with all the force her frigid bones could gather. She could trace its path in her mind, see its steady, graceful trajectory up and arcing outwards and slowly finding its way back down towards the—
“Fuck!” she yelled, eyes shooting open and locking desperately on to the falling memento. A burst of magic from her horn shot out across the water, a thin stream of blue light hitting its mark and cushioning it, not twenty centimetres above the surface of the sea. She floated it over and stuffed it back into her pocket.
Almost there.
She started back to the ferry.
~
The darkness had a strange and ominous effect on the boat. The vessel and its two lonesome passengers were illuminated by a single lantern hung from the mast, the moon occluded by cloud. Behind them, Rarity could still dimly make out the light of the ferryman's building on the northern shore of Equestria; ahead, the pinpricks of light marking the islands of Gael’s Tears; and in all other directions, a vast and impenetrable oblivion. They slowly, almost imperceptibly, floated from one haven to another across the unknown.
It was, Rarity had to admit, terrifying. In a moment of weakness, as the ocean gusts rose and the lantern’s light sputtered and almost went out, she found herself longing for a row of unmoving, unchanging green hills.
The ferryman hummed tunelessly as he worked the tiller.
~
It was a small village and it wasn’t hard to find him. The buildings she passed were mostly homes, and a few two-storey shops with living quarters on the second floor. She checked in the tavern first, a bright little cabin eerily similar to Gran Chivalo's own. This one was populated by older stallions who cheered incoherently when she entered, a stark and not entirely welcome contrast. A barmaid let her know where to find him, and she left quickly.
His property was at the end of the main street, which she came to realise was one of only two streets on the island, the smallest and westernmost of the Tears. According to the ferryman, fish was the archipelago’s main export. When she passed the crossroads and looked down the lamp-lit intersection, she could see a small marina at its end. Nopony passed her. The warm clamour of the tavern faded into the static of the wind.
“You know I won’t beg, but I’m askin’ mighty nicely here, Rarity. Don’t go.”
“You can’t even afford him this? You’d be alright with him never knowing—” She slammed the suitcase lid. “Gods, Mac, he has a right to know!”
“No, he don’t. He gave that up a long time ago.”
“Welcome, weary traveller!” His voice resonated with an effortless showmanship. He was small and obviously very old, his dark red coat hanging off him like a baggy sweater - but there was life in that voice, an enthusiasm that betrayed his feeble frame. “I’d like to ask what whimsy carried y'here to the furthest reaches of the world, but I know for a fact there's only one attraction in these quiet li’l isles - ” he leaned conspiratorially towards her - “and it sure ain’t the fishin’. No, ma’am! Yer here for Pappy Apple's Southern-Style Sundowners.” His smile was as wide as the horizon.
She wondered how long he’d been posing there against the entranceway, watching her disembark from the ferry in the distance, waiting for her to reach the property… He was categorically wrong, of course, but a spiel was visibly poised on his lips, and he looked thrilled to be able to deliver it - how many ponies ever ventured this far north?
"Yessiree, the word's sure spread far and wide… May I trouble you for yer name, young miss?"
She pulled down the hood of her parka - her mane was flattened and hung straight against her head, but she couldn’t care less. "Rarity."
"Rarity! And the shoe certainly fits, yes it does. A beautiful name for a most beautiful mare. So now, Miss Rarity, do tell me: d'you know much about my particular breed of apple? Or were y'carried here by whispers and rumours that piqued yer curiosity? Or maybe you were just bitten by that mischievous travel bug?" His body twitched with nervous energy. "I'd do well to ask - from where did you venture forth to join me here on this fine evening?"
She wondered by what metric this evening could be considered fine. "From Ponyville, Mr. Apple."
"Ponyville. D'you…" The briefest of silences hung between them. It was hard to tell for sure in the moonlight, but Pappy's eyes seemed to defocus for a second, before he snapped back into the moment. "That's an awful long way for you to come, miss. I admire yer tenacity in makin' the journey. But yer right on time: the harvest has just begun." He winked eagerly - "Shall we?" And without waiting for a reply, he turned back towards his property and set off, Rarity and her luggage following quietly behind.
"Miss Rarity from Ponyville," he mused to himself. "My, my."
Ahead of them, down the path between the barn and Pappy's cabin, she could see a thicket of trees illuminated by a vivid light. "Yer the first visitor of the season, y'know," he informed her as he led her along the pathway - then over his shoulder, he hurriedly added, "but certainly not the last! No, the sundowners draw in all sorts o' folks. All sorts. The beautiful, the bizarre, every shade in between. You'd be square in the former camp, o'course," he assured her.
Rarity smiled wanly at him, waiting for the right moment to break his heart.
The buildings passed behind them, the trees drew ever closer, and the golden light grew brighter and brighter. "Now then," he cleared his throat. "Some mighty funny things happen around these parts, Miss Rarity. Our pegasi control the weather, and our princesses move the sun and the moon around the skies, but there's plenty of things even they can't understand about this strange little rock we're livin' on. Take the Everfree Forest for example - y'must know it - there's somethin' wild about that place, somethin' uncontrollable. There's powers greater than our comprehension at work in this world. Y'must have noticed, Miss Rarity, how mighty dark it gets in these parts, how early the sun sets this time o' the year."
"It's quite hard to ignore."
He laughed. "And how! Well, it's all to do with the poles, y'see, somebody once explained it to me. They're, uh, somethin' about refraction, or diffraction, or subtraction… or, um. Well, it never really interested me, all that mumbo jumbo… But as y'see it plainly, there's somethin' different about these northern skies. In the height o' summer, the sun is unavoidable! Y' gots to wear shades in the evening hours and it's darn near impossible to catch any sleep… And then winter rolls around, and it's like it never even existed. Shows its face for maybe an hour or two a day and then scurries on off to who-knows-where."
They stopped at the base of the trees. Rarity could see the orchard stretching on into the distance, wooden baskets littering the ground; there were bright globes nestled in the thick foliage above them that made her squint when she looked up. Their warmth had turned the snow underfoot into a muddy slush. "I first arrived here in the dead o' winter, and I spent a long while tryin' to figure out just where the sunlight had disappeared to." Pappy turned around and locked eyes with her, still beaming. "But I found it. I found where it was hidin'. And I found a way to bring it back."
With that, he gave a sudden buck, stronger than his body seemed capable of - it connected with the nearest tree, and the whole thing shook from side to side, and the lights were dislodged from its branches and fell into the waiting baskets. "Like I said, Miss Rarity," Pappy leaned over the basket, "there's things in this world we can't understand. But that don't make ‘em any less real. Nor less beautiful."
Delicately, he lifted a light from the basket and offered it to her. Separated from the tree, it glowed a little less brightly now, and as she took it from him and held it close Rarity realised that it was not a globe at all. It was an apple the size of a dinner plate, pure golden light shining from beneath its smooth translucent skin. Faintly she could see the light moving within as if it were fluid, radiant particles swirling along lines of convection.
Pappy spoke in a reverent hush. "Don't matter what y'heard, does it? Nothin' compares to the bona fide thing." His eyes shone in the reflected light. "Takes a lot o’ hard work to raise 'em right, of course, they're finicky li'l things, and the harvest season is so short - but it's hard to stay angry at 'em, when they turn out like…" He trailed off, his intent gaze softening. "Oh, miss… lemme give you a moment…"
"No, no, I'll be fine, thank you. I'm fi—" she choked halfway through the word. Rarity blinked the tears out of her eyes, still staring at the apple, still not ready, won't ever be ready. "It's just— They're so beautiful, Mr. Apple, they're... I've never seen such beautiful…" Her head felt as heavy as her heart, her gaze dropped to the ground. "She would've loved them. Oh, she would have just loved them. I suppose she never came here, she would never have seen…"
"Hush now. It ain't right for you to cry and me not to," she whispered.
For the first time that night, Pappy shivered. "Miss," he spoke after a pause. "What is it, really, that brings a mare like yerself all the way from Ponyville to the edge of nowhere?"
She stood there for some time, head low, quivering, wordless. Waves lapped at the island's shores somewhere in the distant dark. With a deep breath, she raised her head, levelled her furrowed, tear-filled eyes at him. "Applejack," she managed. His breath caught. "Mr. Apple, she's… Applejack is gone. She's—" Rarity swallowed hard, and her hind legs buckled and she collapsed to the ground. "I'm so sorry," she wailed, "I'm so—" but the dam broke, and the tears and moans she'd been holding in all came out at last, and she cried harder than she'd ever cried before into the unnatural night.
Pappy stood motionless, rooted like another old tree in the orchard. As she tried to regain control of herself, Rarity would glance up at him to read his expression, but it was unfathomable to her. His breathing was slow and his eyes looked past her, at a spectre. When she could finally hold back her sobbing, he croaked - "When?"
She gulped in freezing air, swallowed back the lump in her throat. "September 9th."
"September," he echoed. His voice barely rose above the rustle of the trees. "Same as her ma, wasn't it?" Rarity nodded. He gave a short laugh, almost a cough. "Everythin' repeats, y'know. I guess you'll find that out when y'get to my age." His smile was a broken thing; she could see the tears in his eyes now that they met hers. "I wasn't there for her ma, I wasn't there for her. It ain't right. Everythin' repeats and nothin' ever comes right, you'll see."
"Mr. Apple, they— they told me that you'd passed, long ago." He laughed brusquely, turning away from her. "But I found your letters, after… She kept them, all of them, they were in a little wooden box under the bed, and I, I found them, and I came here as soon as I could. They told me not to," she got to her hooves, "but you deserve to know, Mr. Apple. I don't know what you did to that family to make you good as dead in their books, but gods above, you deserve to know this at least."
Rarity lifted a hoof, hesitated, took a tentative step forward - but before she knew it Pappy's own hooves were wrapped around her, and he held himself to her, shaking. She felt tears wetting her coat, and she closed her eyes and sunk into his embrace.
"Thank you." The two of them swayed in the winter breeze. Through her closed eyes she could still see the light and feel the warmth of the incandescent apples above them. "She must've been very special to you, for you t’ come all this way."
"Hey, c'mon now, I mean… it could be worse. I c—"
"Shut up," Rarity hissed. "You don't know—" She buried her head in Applejack's chest. "You don't get to tell me how bad it is." Her voice shook, barely audible. "You don't get to tell me how much you mean to me."
Her eyes clenched tighter. "She was everything," she whispered.
"The last time I saw her…" Pappy let go, found his footing. "She was sittin’ by the fireplace, clutchin’ that old bear she loved so much - what was it called? With the broken ear. She’d been waitin' up for me, waitin’ to see me off. She was th’ only one. That must've been…" He gazed up at the leaves in thought. "Twenty-one years ago.” He turned back to her - “But you… Who was it, that you knew? Who did my granddaughter grow up to be?”
Rarity would not open her eyes. Everything was flashing before her, moments and motions and thoughts and whispers and shouts, it was all happening at once. She tried to latch on to something, just one thing to calm the tempest. "She was— beautiful. Like her mother. She always seemed to shine, even on cloudy days; she had this vibrancy about her, a radiance…" Pappy closed his own eyes, conjuring her image. "And she was strong, heavens. She had a buck that could stop an avalanche. She took care of herself, almost as much as she took care of everyone else. After her mother— after your daughter passed, and her husband, she stepped up without a moment's hesitation. Granny and Big Mac were still there but she ran the place, we all knew it, and she provided for us all. You couldn't even try to help her sometimes, she wouldn't even let you thank her. Gods, she was stubborn as an oak, and she was honest to a fault, and she didn't know a thing about art, but—" Rarity felt the tears swell behind her eyelids, shut them tighter - "but she was sensible, and stoic, thoughtful, smarter than she ever let on, humble, generous, compassionate, she was perfect, gods she was so perfect I can't stand it," she wept, "I'm so sick of it, I never want to think of her again!" She shook her head, trying to shuck the images from her mind. "Oh gods, I don't want to forget her, but I can't live like this! I can't…"
Pappy had opened his eyes, watching her shaking in her boots. "Forget her…?"
"I had this—" Rarity pulled the pendant out of her parka - "I had this thing, and, and I wanted to get rid of it and I tried, but I couldn't do it. I held on. At the last minute— I keep holding on. I keep doing this to myself. I've had so many chances and I just can't let go. Why did I come out here?!" She looked around her in exasperation, at the trees, the cabin, the obsidian sky. "I thought I could, if I found you, I'd— What was I thinking? That I could pass her on to you and be done with it all? And now here I am and I still can't let go and it's killing me—"
"Why," he stared at her in bewilderment, "would you let her go? All that time y'had with her, all that time that I never… What I'd do, to have made half the memories you did, and yer talkin' about lettin' them go?"
"I know," she sniffled, wiping her eyes with her foreleg. "I'm awful. But it's too much. Every morning I wake up thinking of her. I feel her absence, I see the spaces where she isn't… and I try to stay busy, but she's always waiting for me. And I can't keep on like this. It isn't fair," she moaned. "I want my life back."
She stood shivering in the sundowners' light, pendant hanging aimlessly besides her. Suddenly she felt Pappy's hoof on her shoulder, and he raised her chin with another to look into her eyes. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare forget her. D'you hear me? D'you even hear yerself? Don't you dare take her for granted. Y'don't just…" He wet his cracked lips. "You gotta remember every second, every precious second y'had with her. Yer the only one who has 'em. Y'just can't throw ‘em all away. Y'just can't."
"It hurts. It hurts so much, to remember how happy I was with her. Every second of it just cuts even deeper."
He lowered his hoof but his gaze would not falter, concern creasing his brow. "Y'need to understand when I say this to ya that I've been through this already. I'm an old pony, Rarity. Hell, I know I don't look it, but…" He smiled weakly. "I've lost a lot of ponies. And I— I left my family behind, a long time ago, and I may as well have lost 'em too. Not a day goes by that I don't think of 'em. And it hurts like a million hells, but every day I thank the princesses I can still remember 'em. I can feel some things are startin' to fade, but not them. I remember when they were born, Macintosh and Applejack and little Apple Bloom too, all o' their first words, the games we played when their ma and pa were out workin' the fields together, and the stories I'd tell 'em at night… I remember my wife, and our daughter, our beautiful girl. I make myself remember," he sucked in a deep breath, "'cause I have to. Because I need to know what I lost to know what's left. Losin' them…" He pressed his forehead against hers. "Losin' her is like losin' a part of yerself. But y'still know who you are. Y'know where all the holes are. If you forget that, you forget yerself. There's a tear in yer soul that y’can't explain. Not knowin' why you are the way you are…" She felt his grip loosen. "I can't think of anythin' sadder than that."
The wind had died down; the great trees stood still as monuments around them. "I was hers," she breathed.
"Y'still are."
Things seemed timeless to her. She could see no movement of the skies, could scarcely hear the ocean now, could hardly tell if her own heart was still beating. "Is that it, then? I have to… I'll just be like this for the rest of my life?" It stretched on before her, vast and blank and impenetrable.
Pappy stepped back. "'Course not. There'll be days when you wake up - " he smiled ruefully - "and she'll be the second thing you think about, not the first."
It was all laid in front of her, waiting for her, as it had always been: the black sea, the way ahead; her upon the shore, groping at shadows with her futile bathymetry. And yet— And yet she could see the edge of the lapping water, and the sand beneath her feet that would take her to it.
It's a start.
And time resumed, the night wind picking up, and she retreated back into her scarf. "Mr. Apple…" She couldn't ignore it any longer. "Aren't you cold?"
"Freezin' my ass off. C'mon." He started back towards his cabin, and Rarity, not knowing what to do with it, brought the sundowner with her as she followed.
She took her photo album from her suitcase while he stoked the fire. The hours passed, unnoticed - they huddled close by the flames on worn cushions, swapping pictures and stories, drinking cup after cup of Pappy's own tea blend. She told him about the Elements, how his granddaughter had helped saved the world years ago; where her family were now; how the Acres were doing. He told her stories about Applejack's childhood, from the time before she knew her; about his daughter and son-in-law, their unlikely love; and about the sundowners. Their apple sat between them like a candle, and she was never sure if she was warmed more from the fire or from its healing light.
It was impossible to tell what time it was when they finally headed off to rest. As she settled in on the couch, wrapping herself in musty blankets, Pappy picked up the sundowner. "I'll take this out back. Can't imagine you'd sleep well with it—"
"No," she said softly, "thank you, but I'd um, I'd like to…"
He grinned, putting it back besides the fireplace's embers. "Don't y'think yer a bit old for a night light?"
"Creature comforts," she mumbled, eyelids drooping. "Goodnight, Mr. Apple."
"Goodnight, Rarity." She heard his footsteps recede, then pause somewhere across the room. "Nopony ever comes back here, y'know," he said quietly. "Nopony ever needs to come back, because nopony ever forgets the sundowners. There's really nothin' like 'em."
Outside, the wind whispered, the water rolled on, the clouds sailed across the pale cheek of the moon; the world rose up, up into the night sky, released like paper lanterns.
~
To my little apple seed,
There ain't nothing quite like the cold to bring us together, is there? Even without Hearth's Warming Eve, there's something about the wintertime that makes everypony a bit more neighbourly in the streets. Feels like everypony's just that little bit quicker to smile. Maybe it's the urge to cuddle up with somepony to keep warm, or maybe we're all keen to grumble about the weather together, or, I dunno, maybe it's some kinda magic. Or maybe I'm just overthinking things - but when I open my door and step out into the first snowfall of the year, I always think of you, and it thaws my frozen bones.
I hope you're cuddling up and keeping warm with somepony - Big Macintosh, little Apple Bloom (I reckon she ain't quite so little by now), or maybe you found yourself a very special somepony…? Heck, your memaw and I had your mother when I was about your age. Not that it matters, I'm just saying… My friend Sea Skipper was in your neck of the woods recently. He told me the town's never looked better, and the Acres are growing about enough fruit for the whole East coast. Told me without me even asking him, that's how impressed he was. It made me so proud of y'all, I couldn't stop grinning ear to ear all day. Got some mighty confused looks for it…
I want you to know that I don't expect anything from you; not a reply, nor forgiveness, not even a return to sender. I ain't been writing these letters for any other reason than I still love you, all of you, and I believe the greatest thing you can do with your life is to share all the love you can spare. I'm sure I don't deserve your love, but I hope you're sharing it with the ponies that need it the most. You always had a big heart, Applejack. You got that from your ma. Don't waste it.
Maybe it's the sundowners that get to me - they start to bloom when the winter blows through, and they always make me think of you. Not to toot my own horn but I think I've really figured them out. They've been getting bigger and brighter every season. I hope you get to see them one day, I truly do. I'll keep at it, I'll make sure they're here, better than ever, ready for you.
Yours, always,
Pappy
~
She stayed with Soul Searcher upon her return to Vanhoover, and when her friend had offered her bed to share, she'd broken down for what she vowed would be the last time, though she knew it wouldn't be, and cried into a sofa cushion while Soul Searcher stroked her mane, transparently awkward but comforting nonetheless. When the tears stopped at last, her friend had joked, "am I really that bad-looking?," and Rarity laughed longer than she should have. She stayed for another day after that, because she'd always wanted to see Vanhoover, but had never found the time.
~
4/12
Familiar ground. The plains roll by, and these wheels speed us east towards the grand nexus of Royal Central - its presence looms noticeably on the horizon now. It hardly keeps my attention. My thoughts cannot stray far from the sleepy little town on the other side of these hills. Ah! I feel something stirring in my gut, something brewing on the horizon, but this isn't like before, this is different, somehow… It's hard to say. It could be calamitous or beautiful, I don't yet know. Time will always tell.
Where will I visit first, when I return home? So many choices. I think I owe it to my family to see them first, but I’ll be arriving in the middle of the day. Probably best to wait until they’ll all be home. I need to return the photo album to Sweet Apple Acres, but… I think I can afford myself some respite before such heavy matters are attended to. Sugarcube Corner, then? Perhaps I’ll run into the gang at lunch hour. So many choices - so many other ponies with which to fill up a life. It’s so easy to slip back into it, like the warm embrace of a fillyhood blanket. I can hear Soul Searcher scoffing - ‘you’ll suffocate!’ I am determined to prove her wrong, to wipe that infuriatingly alluring smirk from her face. I’ll show her something worth sitting still for.
Applejack is gone, and Rarity gone with her. When she left me, she took the part of her self that I had brought into my own, everything that made me hers - and whatever mess remained collapsed into its absence. But who is this, with freshly sharpened pencil and thoughtfully furrowed brow, tracing these very words? Rarity. It must be Rarity. It all keeps on going, and I am ushered along with it, into some new form with which to greet each new morning. And you will still be there, I know. I will live, and you will live in me, until the day this world exhales us and inhales the next lot, to tread the paths we carved, and wonder who on earth we ever were.
I never really said - thank you for the diary, dear. I love it.