//------------------------------// // Names, Stairs, Arrivals, and Songs // Story: A Sweet Taste of Cake // by The Descendant //------------------------------// Chapter 15: Names, Stairs, Arrivals, and Songs The construction of the gingerbread house neared its completion. Together they wordlessly studied it, looked it over, and made mental checklists of what needed to be accomplished before they could consider the work to be truly finished. As they circled the table, they made little adjustments, pieced back together some loose bits of trim, straightened the gingerbread ponies, and placed a few more candies to even out the visual balance. As they went, they were suddenly aware of the sound of hooves overhead, ringing out softly across the ceiling above. Pinkie had been out late last night, rehearsing her part in the Hearth's Warming pageant that she was going to perform in that very evening. They had not woken her. They knew that the train trip to the capital and all that involved would tax even her abundant energy. As they listened, her voice seemed to float down the stairs, the pure tone of the mare filling their bakery and home as it lifted a holiday tune. Above them the sound of her bathtub filling crossed over them, and the old pipes rattled in a sort of harmony with her song. Carrot looked up to Cup Cake, saw her too listening to the cheerful strains of Pinkie's song. In the few years that had passed since her arrival, they had become accustomed to her voice, her bounce, her very presence in the house. Truth be told, they were very glad for it, had learned from it… had come to see her as… "Uh oh!" rose the voice of the pink mare, the expression behind it evident even as it fell quietly down the stairs. At once a look shot between them. Immediately Carrot and Cup Cake had leapt for a stand nearby. A few moments later the water began to erupt out of the sinks, come cascading down the steps and dripping through a few weak spots in the ceiling. The couple stood together, their umbrellas open above the gingerbread house, protecting it from any harm. As the water began to slow, they simply stood there, knowing as they had come to know that life with Pinkie Pie was a daring adventure or nothing, one that they had accepted as part of the greater journey of their marriage. As they stood there in the dripping kitchen, holding the umbrellas awkwardly, she pressed herself into his chest once more. As he lowered his head over her, they sighed and laughed, soaking in the absurdity that had become such a welcome part of their lives… and all that came with that. It would have been easy enough to get mad, to demand an explanation from the young mare. Instead they simply swayed together as the last few drops fell, knew how Pinkie would react, and knew how they had learned to react in time with her… how they too had grown from having her here. It was all just part of life with Pinkie, a life that they welcomed indeed. Instead all that they did was continue to rock one another and protect the gingerbread house… the dollop of white frosting upon Carrot's nose still the only pressing concern in Cup Cake's mind as the warmth of the ovens began to turn the water into vapor and an embracing mugginess overtook the kitchen. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The summer after Pinkie had arrived was perhaps a little cloudier than most and maybe just a few degrees colder on average, the pegasi doing their best to satiate the needs of Equestria while striking an equilibrium with the world outside its borders. There were still more than enough days to go swimming and sit under a shady tree, to find blackberries and stay up late into the warm nights. Under their tutelage, Pinkie Pie was becoming something of an accomplished baker, even if the going was difficult at times. She had taken to all that Carrot and Cupcake had sought to teach her with energy and gusto. It was her lack of focus that sometimes resulted in problems. More than once she had returned to a project only to begin the next one, discovering the burned remains of a torte or the charred crusts of pies deep within the oven. With a sheepish smile she would clear away her own mess and begin again. One day, as Cupcake had been working in the kitchen, she called for Carrot to see to a customer in the showcase room. As she did, she remembered that he had gone into the city, seeking to talk to a supplier who seemed to not know the difference between "dozen" and "gross." She began to clean herself up when the sound of Pinkie's voice lifted from the room beyond. After a moment laughter flowed around the room, Cupcake listening in as the cash register rang out for the first time under the hoof of the younger mare. To her surprise the talking continued and the laughter rose again… and the cash register sounded out once more. As she finished cleaning herself she went out into the room where the treats all stood awaiting purchase. "That new girl of yours is quite the whip!" said an older pony in a crumpled hat, a wide smile across his face as he waved. As he departed the store, Cupcake looked to the beaming Pinkie Pie. "Pinkie?" she asked. "Did you just wait on your first customer?" "Oh, yeah! Hey! I guess I did! I… oh, I did do it right, right? I mean the money is all here!" said Pinkie, opening the cash drawer once more and suddenly looking very concerned. "Of course it is, Dearie," answered Cupcake, assuaging Pinkie's fear, "I'm just surprised that… that you seemed to enjoy it so much. Did, did you enjoy it?" "He, he!" giggled Pinkie. "Well… yeah, I did! I like talking to ponies and ponies like talking to me and if I could I'd meet everypony and be nice to everypony and…" Cupcake smiled to her. To Pinkie's surprise she felt Cupcake leaning to her, and with that she grabbed her up in a hug. Carrot Cake returned to his shop with a refund check. To his surprise it was Pinkie Pie who placed it within the register, a rather full looking tip jar being evidence of the success of her interaction with the patrons of the bakery. Clearly, working with other ponies was not her weakness. Her problem was focus. Within the mare was something that didn't seem to be falling into place, something that was blocking her larger attempts to utilize her mark. It was something wrong inside of her, some simple cadence of her own magic that was going unfocussed. She seemed to be having trouble developing her own rhythm, as though she had somehow missed a cog in one of her gears. She would begin to sing a song, or dance a dance, and with that, all of her abilities would clog up and she would seem to freeze. Carrot and Cupcake could see that she wanted to power through it, to utilize that part of herself, but it was somehow as though that part of her was blocked up… a part of her that simply had to release itself as randomness, a useless expenditure of energy that seemed to draw more out of her than it provided. There was no more evident example of that failing than the day that she asked to host the first party to be held in the attic. Upon reopening the passageway that they had long assumed was a closet, they now had a way to access the room without passing through any of their living spaces. As the door came off, it was indeed shown to be a stairwell, a fine one with big steps and a proper railing. A small knot of stallions ranging from Carrot's friends, Cupcake's brother and nephew, and Carrot and Quarry themselves had assembled with the expressed purpose of removing the old trapdoor and repairing the floor and ceiling. As with most such projects, it devolved to most of the stallions enjoying the products of the bakery while a cursing Quarry and Carrot did most of the work. Pinkie had cleaned the space until it shone, Carrot watching open-mouthed as she somehow held herself aloft with balloons to clear the overhead beams of their dust. It was a birthday party for an older mare. Even as the patrons had grumbled about climbing the stairs, they all went quiet as they entered the room, soon calling out about how beautiful it was as Pinkie greeted them. Carrot retreated downstairs to tend to the bakery, seeing to the customers that were coming in even as the party went on two floors above. It started off well enough. As Cupcake or Pinkie would come downstairs to fetch more treats, he would inquire as to how it was all going. "Oh, just dandy!" Cupcake would say, and then he would return to his baking. A few minutes later, Pinkie came down the stairs and trotted into the kitchen, dropping plates into the sink. "And how are things going up there?" he asked, smiling to her. "Oh, pretty good I think!" she said with a little smile before heading back up the stairs. He tilted his head and watched her go. She seemed to be less enthusiastic than she had been. A while later Cupcake came down the stairs. As she fetched up some more little casks of things to drink he looked to her and asked, "How is it going?" The look he gave him was not enthusiastic. "It's… it is going okay," she said, her eyes telling him that something had happened. "What?" he asked while concern rose in his voice. "Ginger Snap, what's wrong?" "Oh, Carrot," she said, leaning against him gently, "nothing's wrong… what isn't going right, that's causing the problem." Carrot brushed against his wife, nuzzled her and asked for an explanation. She lifted her head and whispered in his ear. "She's trying so hard, Carrot, but she's nervous… nervous on the inside and she can't get past it. This isn't going well for her! Oh, poor Pinkie, she's missing her mark!" whispered Cupcake with some small anxiety in her voice. With that she trotted off again, leaving him struggling to understand how the ball of energy that had bounced into their lives could be nervous about anything. "This" was not good. That word again… As the afternoon came to an end, Carrot met the mares who came down the stairs, held the door open for them as they departed. He tried to gauge their expressions, especially that of the mare who had been the focus of the celebration. They seemed… pleased. Satisfied. Content. As in opposed to happy, jubilant, or even cheerful. As the one mare who had planned the party met him to settle the account, he probed for answers as to what had transpired above. "Were, were you happy with the room, with how the party went?" he asked, gulping slightly. "Oh, yes, it went fine," she answered while laying her bits on the table. Silence reigned over the room as he wrote out her receipt. "Nothing, nothing… went wrong, did it?" he asked as he passed it to her. "Oh, well, no… nothing too wrong," she said, the very way she tried to phrase it politely making him jump in place. "But if you're going to have a birthday party you should have your hostess, the pink mare, learn the words to the songs and the like…" "What?" he breathed as disbelief shot through him. "I mean… I'm sorry, it is her first party here, you see, our first ever in that room…" "Well," she said, stuffing a few bits into the gratuity envelope, "thank you for using it, and best of luck with it in the future." With that the mare laid the envelope on the counter and trotted out the door. Before the door had even completely shut, he was already going up the recently discovered stairs, grabbing wildly at the envelope as he went. Pinkie had told them about dozens of parties that she had thrown. Every foal in elementary school knew the words to the birthday songs. Something was wrong, this he knew. He continued straight up the stairs rather than turning through the former closet, went up to where the door to the upstairs room met him. Cupcake stood there as though knowing that he would come. As he gained the landing, she put her hoof in his and pointed across the room. Pinkie stood there slowly pushing the garbage can around from place to place, filling it with trash, leftovers, and at times seeming to try to stuff entire tables into it in an absent-minded fog. To their surprise her mane and tail hung limp, as though the life itself had come out of it, and as she went, she gave little sounds of worry. Carrot and Cupcake came trotting forward. As they did, she tried to smile at them. As she saw them looking at her, she realized her attempts were for nothing, that they could see the expression that was going across her. "I-I don't know what went wrong!" she cried, seeming to jump in place and to move in a little circle. "I-I've thrown hundred of birthday parties! Hundreds and hundreds and hundreds of parties! I don't know why I… why I…" Cupcake followed her as she began to trot to the far side of the attic, raised her hoof to her as she cantered back towards them. "I don't know… don't know why I couldn't sing…" she said as she plopped herself down in the middle of the room, her eyes beginning to water. "I don't know why I couldn't dance! I do, I try to all the time but this time I couldn't and I'm so sorry and now nopony is gonna wanna have a party here and we…" Cupcake nuzzled her, sat with her as Carrot stared on in sympathy. A few words dripped out of Pinkie, Cupcake literally lowering her head to try to hear them. When the pink mare spoke again, it literally came out as a bawl. "Pinkie," she said, gathering up the hoof of the pink mare, "what's wrong, Dearie? Oh, Pinkie, please say it again…" "All-all of a sudden I-I miss my momma and poppa… I want my momma and poppa!" she said as tears began to fall from her big blue eyes. In one motion Cupcake was cradling her, rocking her. Carrot could see the emotions filling her now. She was afraid and uncertain. She didn't understand why her own magic, her mark, had failed her. "My Granny Pie said to giggle at the ghosties until they go away, but this isn't a ghostie… it's me! I can't giggle at me, I don't know how to make this go away! I don't know what to do, what to do, what to do!" She was simply too far from home… a little filly fresh off the farm, away from her family and dealing with something she did not understand. For the first time in her dawning adult life she had a problem, one that her indomitable spirit seemed unable to overcome. He watched as Cupcake cradled her, rocked her and made shushing noises. "I'm so sorry! I'm so sorry! I thought that I'd do better here… but it's only worse! It's only worse!" bawled Pinkie, her tears only getting heavier as all of the little emotions she had been hiding since the day she arrived at Sugar Cube Corner revealed themselves. Carrot saw Cupcake's eyes flash to him, saw his wife raise her hoof and implore him to come to where they stood. He came to them, sat down with them, uncertain about what he should do. He did not know if it was the right thing to embrace this younger mare, this girl he had only known for a few weeks. As Pinkie leaned into him, he received his answer. He joined his wife in the slow rocking motion, letting Pinkie sit between them as the afternoon light from the windows fell across them. Mint sun tea, flavored with milk and honey… as the ponies sat in Pinkie's little sitting room, this is what they had her drink. As they spoke quietly, they brought dinner up to her parlor, did what they could to make it seem like a quiet dinner at home. The afternoon drew on into night, and as the uncertainty had washed out of her eyes, it had been replaced by an honestly earned tiredness. Carrot stood, moved to an envelope that he had awkwardly been carrying with him all that long afternoon. He tore it open and let the bits fall out. He pressed a share into Pinkie's hoof. The mare looked down over it with confusion across her face. "But… but I didn't do a very good job," she said, her voice still small. "You did the best you could, Pinkie Pie," he said, trying to sound something like what he imagined a father would sound like, "and without you the room would never have been used in the first place…" He turned back to see her looking at him as a surprised look settled over her. "… you did okay, Pinkie Pie, you did fine." Finally, after long hours of waiting, her smile had returned to the rooms above the bakery. Carrot and Cupcake walked out of the darkened suite a short while later, gently closing the door behind them. As they walked down the hallway to their room, yawns of their own lifted from them, the two leaning against each other as they went. He waited for her as she finished preparing for bed, let the sound of the summer night come drifting through the wide windows. As she left the bathroom, she came up to him, sat down at his side of the bed and looked at him, searching through his eyes. Yes, he replied wordlessly, I knew it would be difficult. Yes, his eyes told her, we will find a way to help her. Yes, his stare stated, we will help her get through "This." Yes, this is a rocky part of the journey, one that I'm still very, very, very glad you're here to help me along. She smiled down over him, kissed his nose, forehead, and drew his ear through her mouth with the lightest of nibbles. "And you wanted kids," she whispered, once more drawing out his laugh, touching her forehead to his as the night air filled the room. The next night, they went to dinner at the big house that Quarry had built. Six adult ponies sat there, each enjoying the company of the others and the bounty that the summer had laid before them. "Living here looks good on you, mom," said Carrot, placing a kiss upon his mother's cheek as they took their seats. Ruby Quartz sighed. Cupcake followed her gaze to where three plates sat at empty chairs. Seeing her older sister so made Cupcake realize that she was wistfully recalling the days when her children did not have the hectic responsibilities and social calendars that adolescence seems to drag along in its wake. Seeking to break the somber tone that her sister's sigh had settled along the table, Cupcake broached the topic of what had happened with Pinkie. Inside seconds the three older mares at the table had all begun leveling motherly advice upon them. "It's her nerves, Cupcake, from being in a new place…" "Let her work up to her mark, let her explore it." "This happens all the time. You'd know that if you had kids of your…" All of the faces in the room turned to Ruby Quartz, saw the mare already laying her hoof across her mouth. Inside a second she was out of her seat and to her sister and brother-in-law, laying her head to each of them. "I'm so sorry! I-I didn't mean it that way! I meant that you would have learned about how to deal with it if, I mean when, or if you… oh, I'm an idiot, I'm sorry! I'm sorry, sis," she said, nuzzling to her sister. "Oh, it's okay… I understand, don't worry about it so," Cupcake said as she answered the nuzzle with one of her own. Quiet returned to the table. The meal progressed, and soon a rumbling voice returned to the topic that had sat unanswered across the serving dishes and baskets of rolls. "Though," said Quarry, "Clyde did say that she'd been havin' trouble before… that he was worried that bein' on the farm had stifled her. He was even afraid that he was killin' her, what with her not coming in off the farm all that often. She may just need some focus, somethin' to latch onto to grow from…" Carrot and Cupcake pondered the words of the big stallion as they poured drinks for one another, sat there taking small sips as the conversation rolled across the table. "Why, the same thing happened to me when we first opened our dance studio," said Cheesecake, "didn't it Wishy?" "Oh yes," replied Wishing Well, "for the first two days I had to lead you around, help you regain your confidence… you'd freeze up!" "Oh, if I could only give her some of my confidence now!" said Cheesecake. "Too bad dancing isn't her mark. She hasn't said anything about it, has she? Or singing?" The air above Carrot and Cupcake filled with a purple haze as the two simultaneously spat up their drinks and then stared to Carrot's mother. For those who only knew Pinkie Pie before the lessons, to see her afterwards was as though witnessing a torrent of water which had been released from a dam. For those who only knew Pinkie Pie before Cheesecake had begun coming around to Sugar Cube Corner and helping her find her voice, give rise to her feelings through her song, meeting her was like meeting a new pony… one made of energy. For those who knew the Pinkie Pie of before the lessons that Cheesecake gave, the lessons that allowed her to finally break free of her small internal restraints, it was as though they were finally allowed to meet the mare for the first time. It was as though she was now truly free. She had danced before, or something like it on the farm, but never as openly and with as much joy. She had sung before, or tried to, but nothing like she did now. Now her voice was clarion and clear, and it filled the upstairs room with its sound as the lessons freed her. As the lesson had come to an end, Carrot and Cupcake had climbed the stairs, stood in the doorway listening as Cheesecake led Pinkie in another song. As the pink mare twirled and bounced through the hazy summer sun that entered the room, they beamed at her proudly… as though looking upon... They could only clap, pound their hooves to the wooden boards, and smile back at her as she bounded over to them. Together the four descended the stairs and then sat around the parlor behind the kitchen, drinking iced juices to fend off the heat as the warm day crossed in through the screens that sat in the windows. "I-I'm very proud of you, Pinkie Pie," said Cheesecake, looking up to her student as the young mare collected their used cups, "you-you've made so much progress! Are you happy, dear? Do you feel like… as though it has helped?" "Right a Rooney it has helped!" she said while balancing the cups upon her nose, turning around before them in an effortless display of her energy and skill. Pinkie Pie stopped and looked back over the three other ponies in the room before her happy expression once more settled on Cheesecake. "You know, it was really, really, really nice of you to do that because nopony else had ever helped me to sing and dance before except for my Granny Pie, and on the farm we never danced before I got my mark and we didn't sing that much even after I got it but my Granny Pie tried to teach me." The assembly waited as Pinkie stopped to breathe. "You remind me of my Granny Pie," Pinkie concluded, placing extra emphasis on the last few words. With that she leaned back to Cheesecake, nuzzled her and gave a small laugh. "Yup, you do," she said in something of a singsong tone, gathering up the cups once more and disappearing out of the room in a single bound, "she was beautiful too!" The statement hovered in the air for a few moments as the sound of Pinkie Pie washing dishes and singing with her newfound voice rang out from the kitchen. Carrot and Cupcake looked to the older mare, saw Cheesecake still staring out to where the young pony had leapt. "Mom?" asked Carrot as he stood and crossed to where she lay. She looked up to him with a sort of serene happiness across her face, a few big wet tears lingering there as her son touched his forehead to hers. Strings of causality, the very fabric of fate, had wound themselves very tightly to Carrot Cake and Cupcake. In truth, they could not know how tightly. That evening the strings moved very visibly, binding them even closer to one another. He had been reading, but he found himself thirsty for something more than tap water, and he made his way downstairs. To his surprise she was not in the parlor working upon some small crafts as he had left her. Carrot entered the little den that served as an office for the bakery, and there he saw his wife writing, her head down across the page as she worked the pencil with her mouth. "Whatcha writing, Sugar Plum?" he asked as he tried to peek over her shoulder. She startled suddenly, gave a yelp and tried to cover what she had been writing with both of her hooves as she seemed to lift into the air in alarm. "Oh, nothing!" she answered unconvincingly. "Really?" he said, trying to glance around her, she only drawing the paper closer to herself. With that he arched an eyebrow. A thought passed through him, and he did his best to copy her cunning little smile. "You wouldn't dare!" she answered, a recognition going through her face as he stood over her and pressed her tail gently to the pillow, pinning her in place. "You gonna tell me what it is, Honey Bun?" he said with a malicious grin. She wrapped the paper to her chest, looked up at him with a smirk wrapped inside a pout. "Okay then…" he said with a toss of his mane. Cupcake's ticklish spots were as well known to Carrot as his own name. As she laughed and squealed, he found them one by one. His hooves danced along her ribs, along her neck, and up and down her legs. When her head tossed to one side, he was soon to the other. When she brought up her forelegs to shield herself, his hoof went to the space beneath them. For Carrot it became like concert, he the conductor of a symphony that filled the little room with her laughter. As he sped his hoof along her, the sound of her voice ringing out with giggles entertained the stacks of paper, the notebooks, and the cup full of pencils and quills. The paper had long since fallen away from her chest, yet he did not reach for it. If she wanted to tell him, she would, and he knew she no longer had any secrets from him… that if she was not telling him then there was a good reason. When it was important for him to know, she would tell him. He trusted his wife, just as she trusted him. Besides, he was otherwise occupied with the squealing, giggling, laughing, and squirming form of a beautiful blue mare pinned beneath him. Whatever a single piece of paper spoke of could hardly compete with that for his attention. Or so he thought. "Oh, Carrot! Carrot, stop! Stop!" she called as she tried to catch her breath. With that his assault ended. He parted his hooves and stopped pressing her tail against the pillows, allowed her to move again even as he still stood over her. Cupcake folded her forelegs down to her chest and then looked up to him with her rosy eyes as she gave a few more satisfied giggles. Her expression became slightly more serious as she rolled to her side and gathered up the paper. He looked it over with her. It was a legal document of some kind, each space filled out with her perfect little writing, the one that was oddly the same whether hoof or mouth written. "I-I had wanted it to be a surprise…" she said, her voice slightly trembling. "I'm sorry," he said after hearing her voice catch, "I'm sorry, Honey Bun, I was just…" "No," she said, running her hoof across his foreleg. "It's okay, I've just been thinking about how this would change things, and I wanted to be sure about it." He looked down across her once more; saw reflection deep in those eyes. "I-I've been wondering about this. Thinking about it quite a bit. A lot of couples do it, and when Pinkie mentioned it all those weeks ago it kinda jumped up at me, you know…" she said, laying the paper flat. Carrot looked over the sheet again, scanned it for meaning. Right across the top stood a rather officious looking title, one that was so banal for the heavy meaning it carried. "Form 47B: Legal Request for Official Change of Name" He looked down to her again and saw a dawning sentiment growing over her, one that made him very happy. "A lot of married couples are doing this now, you see," she began, turning back to him, "and ours is really easy to do… I'd just become Cup Cake, two words, instead of Cupcake, one. That way we'd be…" "… the Cakes," he answered, his own expression growing soft as he ran his hoof across her shoulder. "Do you… do you think it's a good idea?" she asked as she looked up to him questioningly, "I mean, it's not that big of a change, you know, and I think it's sweet…" "Sweety," he said, "a treat by any other name…" With that he lowered his head to her, touched his lips across her neck… "Ginger Snap…" … across her cheek… "Sugar Plum…" … upon her lips… "Honey Bun," he concluded while staring down over her, "… would taste just as sweet." She smiled back up at him and took the pencil in her mouth. With that Cupcake signed her new name and laid the pencil down… … and Cup Cake raised her head once more to meet her husband's offered nose. "I love you, Mr. Cake," she said as they made the soft motions across one another. "I love you, Mrs. Cake," he said as his touch flew through her and back to him. As they parted from the touch of the other, he realized that he was still standing over her, still stood in the position of the victor in the engaging battle that had only ended a few minutes before. He looked back down over her and saw her realize the same thing. "Oh?" she said, smiling up to him, "were we in the middle of something?" "Don't forget to nibble behind her ears," came the voice of Pinkie Pie, bouncing by the wide open door of the den to fetch a drink from the kitchen. "That's where I always used to get her real good when she would baby-sit us!" "Ohhhhh, is that a fact?" he said as Pinkie politely closed the den door. Pinkie only smiled to herself as she saw a look of pleasant surprise go across Cup Cake's face as this long forgotten secret had been revealed, one that was soon to be explored in earnest. Strings of causality… they are the very fabric of fate. They stretch and twist, snarl and get caught and snagged. They also lie beside one another, are woven and knit. One can only tie, many though bind, and hundreds clothe. The story of the journey that the Cakes had been on was more than just a story of their own romance. It was a story of how their love had drawn these strings around them… how they had tied others to them and how ponies around them had all been draped in the fabric that they had knit. Had Ivory Script not been bound to Cup Cake, then she would have never of had anyone to help her plan "The Game of This," and Ivory would have grown up without anypony to confide in… may not of had anyone she trusted enough to gain her confidence that won her the office of mayor. Of course without Ivory there would have been no meeting at all… she was the one who pulled Carrot and Cup Cake together, pulled willfully on the strings. If Ivory's father Ledger had not employed Carrot, they never would have seen each other in the first place, and if Ivory had not told him of his part in "The Game of This," he may have told Quarry about their relationship. Then it would never have begun, never have been allowed to prosper and bloom. Strings… the strings that were once limp went taut as Cheesecake and Wishing Well reunited through the love of their children, as their friendship had been reborn. If the strings had not pulled Clyde toward the door of the Hospitable Loan & Trust, there never would have been a place for Pinkie to grow. She would perhaps still be on that rock farm, her mark going to waste. Love had made the strings. The love that the Cakes had let grow between them and that had covered all the ponies in their lives. Love had, unknowingly, conquered all. If Carrot had not come into Quarry's life through his daughter, then he would still be filled with rage, owned by his wrath. The strings had broken down his perceptions… made him leave his brutality behind. The strings that wrapped him to his erstwhile "son" had more than just freed him of his anger. They had freed his soul and given him these last few years of happy reflection upon those he loved. Yet, there was a price to pay for living as he had, living wrapped in rage and fury. A physical body can only take so much. He had never been able to let go fully, but he had mastered it, learned to control it. The strings had pulled it out of his life, but now they were letting him know that consequences were in place and that his decades of wrath were coming to claim him. The strings made themselves known as a feeling deep behind his right eye, one that he could sense as the late summer sky fell over them. He stood from the porch. He tried to yawn but had to catch himself as he wobbled. With that he wheeled Wishing Well into the den they had converted into a downstairs bedroom. She was going through a frail phase again, and his own age and stiffness meant that he trusted himself less and less to use the lift, the stairs no longer even being a possibility. As Cheesecake prepared Wishing Well for bed, he stood in the bedroom, felt himself wavering on his legs. He called upon his own earth pony magic to anchor him. As it moved through him, he felt it catch behind his right eye, felt the blood moving there incorrectly as his own magic called back to him that something was wrong. He was so tired. Cheesecake helped Wishing Well into the bed, and she said her goodnights. To her surprise she felt Quarry's hoof on her foreleg. "I-I can't tell ya' how much it means to me… that you're here, taking care of my Darling. It means a lot to me, Cheesecake… thank you," he said, forcing his trademark rumble into his voice to hide the growing weakness. To his surprise she offered him an embrace, one that they shared before he showed her to the door. "Oh, are you making googly eyes at my best friend, Love?" chided Wishing Well in a playful tone. His reply was almost tearful. "Please don't even joke like that. I've only ever had one Darling," he said as he gently turned her so that she lay upon the bed with her face to him, "only ever loved you, Wish. You've only ever been my Love." "Oh, Quarry... " Wishing Well spoke with concern high in her voice, feeling a strong emotion hanging over the bed that she could not place. She looked upon her grey-maned husband, the pony seeming so pale in the moonlight. "I'm sorry, Love," she apologized as she reached for him, "I was only joking. You know I don't think that…" Quarry leaned forward and kissed his wife. As they lay in the gaze of the other, he wrapped his hooves around hers. Together they spoke about their lives for a little while, the happy and the sad. As they did, he waited for her to fall asleep. He fought to stay awake, fought the wavering sense of withdrawal that was falling through him. As they lay there in their bed with their hooves upon one another, he whispered, "I love you, Wish… I love you, Darlin'," and with that she became the last thing he saw as he closed his eyes. About two hours later, Quarry realized he no longer had any need for his body, so he left it lying there upon the bed. He looked across the deflated form. There he saw all of the old scars and the grey mane that had once been black, the mark of a ladder reaching out of black pit of stone. "Meh," he said, leaving his aches, pains, and remorse there in a heap of flesh. He let his kiss waft across Wishing Well one last time and then moved out across his home. He moved down the path and past the gate as the world sat in a perfect light that flowed from neither sun nor moon. He did not walk, did not have a body to move, and instead it was as though he saw himself as he had always wished to be. As he went, all of the hate, fear, anger, wrath, and feelings of doubt fell from him. They dropped from him as though they were plates of armor that clanged as they fell to the earth and dissipated in clouds of magica vasto. He was running. He felt himself young again, felt as he had not felt since he was the twelve-year-old colt who had not yet been robbed, had not yet felt hunted. Above him the stars shone brighter than any he had ever seen, and he was aware of them… felt them. At once he was aware of many things, of his sons in their homes in Manehattan and in the officer tent, of his daughters lying close to those they loved. He was aware of his granddaughters too: one asleep in her bed, the other sleeping across her books… of his grandson trying to sneak back home long after his curfew. He laughed, laughed long and loud as he ran, not tiring in the least. "Later!" he called, his grandson seeming to catch the word as a whisper on the breeze. At once his black mane was flying around him, caught in the winds that rose from a shaft of shimmering light. He flew to it, and as he came closer, a figure stood there, one that was vast, powerful, and angelic. As he looked upon the face, he realized it was a pony, one that he had last seen nearly four decades earlier, one that he had held close to his chest as the short life had come to an end. He nuzzled his son, and with that his boy led him down the Long Stairs, well-being and a sense of completeness washing over him as he went down the steps. There was a great vast pool, and with his son, he went pelting across the short beach and down into the waters. As the warm waters washed over him, he felt the presence of many ponies, his own parents, his brother who had been killed in The Wars… these and so many others met him as his soul became as water, as love itself was liquid, and he floated through it and was made of it. Being Quarry means finally being free to let all of your intentions fall away. Being Quarry means there is finally nothing that consumes you, only rest. Being Quarry means entering the Well of Souls and finally finding peace.