The Bridge
Roseluck paced around the desecrated remains of her florist shop.
Her hooves clicked and clacked across the wooden floor as she marched back and forth, ducking beneath the same low-hanging vine and skirting around the same overgrown geranium with every pass. I can’t believe this is happening, she thought.
She gave a low sigh somewhere between frustration and fatigue. The mare looked across her shop and at the mess it had become in her absence.
Some flowers were wilting as they seemed to swim in great pools of excess water dripping down the sides of their pots. Others were torn, cut, and split under the ‘intensive care’ given by a certain group of fillies. In the far corner, the remains of her workbench and the water control system sat amid a mess of crackling browns and blacks, the remains of the fire that she had barely contained upon returning.
Yesterday was... an odd day, she conceded before making her way over to the workbench. Her bonsai lay there, half of it now charred to a crisp. The floor was still marred, the black tendrils indicating where her valiant battle to contain the flames finally ended.
Upon arriving at her shop the previous evening, she had still been berating Raindrops for her thoughtless words. That continued right up until a draft composed of burning flowers and a veritable wall of ashes blew past her. In the corner, three fillies were playing at ‘Cutie Mark Crusader Fire Fighters’ with a blanket and a bucket full of a very flammable type of fertilizer.
Her night had generally gone downhill from there.
Might as well just go home. Roseluck looked at the door behind her shop longingly, her mind easily visualizing her bed and her bookcase filled with good reading material. She bit her lower lip, her gaze returning to the upturned table where the real fighter fighters had set up, and to the pile of unfortunate plants that weren’t going to make it. Light poured in through the shop’s windows, strong and vibrant despite the layer of caked-on soot.
I can’t just leave; it’s hardly even noon, yet. Ah, but I have to practice for the poetry competition. She shifted her weight from hoof to hoof. I wonder how Big Macintosh will fare.
The thought of his name sent a wave of excitement through her mind, blanking out all other thoughts until she recovered a few moments later. She returned to cognizance to find herself panting and sweating heavily. Well, we’re both going to be in the competition... does he even know how to recite poetry? she thought as she searched out an unscorched cloth to wipe away her perspiration. Oh no, what if he makes a mistake! He’ll be a laughing stock! Or, or what if he starts liking... her.
The mare slapped herself, her head bouncing away as pain cascaded through her cheek. Come on Roseluck, you’re not like that. She huffed. You’re a respectable mare who can take care of herself, not one of those bimbos that go all gaga when they see a good-looking stallion...
...Although, Big Macintosh is really good-looking.
She slapped herself again. “Gah, I don’t have time for this; I need to study.”
Stomping ahead, she walked around her workspace to the door, swinging it open with a quick twist of the handle.
The interior of her house was the stellar opposite of the mess of her shop.
Everything was tidy and neat. Not a speck of dust could be seen within the tiny apartment, nor was there so much as one misplaced piece of spartan furniture. The walls glowed with their pastel hues that somehow complimented the bright decor and elegant placements.
She marched in, sighing as she made her way to a bookshelf tucked into a corner, one filled with books on plant care, poetry, and planting plants poetically. Hmm, maybe something dark by Allen Poeny. I certainly feel that way. Reaching out a hoof, she touched the edge of one of the books. To her own surprise, she stopped. She brushed back the feeling, and then hesitated. Hmm, maybe something light and heart-warming would be best? Her gaze shifted to a collection by Lord Alfalfa Dragonson.
As she sat down, Roseluck let her eyes wander over her collection, names and tones shifting absently through her mind. I wonder what Big Macintosh will recite? She blinked, realization flooding in. “Oh no. He- he probably doesn't have half of this. Goddess, I'd be surprised if the Apples have so much as a single book on poetry.”
She inched away from the bookshelf, walking to the centre of her living room in a daze. Should I help him?
No, of course not. Applejack would probably not appreciate me showing up, and I’ll probably just be an interruption. It would hardly be business-like of me to pop in like that. I could go check on Twigster, though... and dropping off a book or two wouldn’t be too hard. The mare bit her lower lip until it hurt.
No, I’ll stay home, she concluded as she walked over to a wardrobe. She opened it wide and pulled out a saddlebag.
I can have a soothing cup of tea.
Roseluck returned to her bookshelf and pulled out four books, all of them for novice poets.
Maybe put some soothing music on and relax; then, I can study until evening.
She brought the books to her saddlebag and, with a twist of her dextrous hooves, opened it to carefully place the objects within.
Roseluck’s green eyes blinked at the bag at her feet. “When did that get there?!” she asked aloud, her voice incredulous and confused. To her relief, nothing answered her.
“I’m going to regret this.”
The door to her shop squeaked open and Roseluck stepped out, the afternoon sun beaming down onto her head. Slowly, she took a deep breath of the fresh spring air, catching hints of wild flowers and unwashed bodies.
“Beautiful day, ain’t it?” a voice said from right behind and above her.
Roseluck jumped and spun around, blinking dumbly at Raindrops, whom was upside down on the flower shop's roof. “What are you doing there, Rainy?” she asked, frowning up at her friend.
With a smile similar to that of a cheshire cat, Raindrops nimbly hopped off the roof, landing silently on the roadway with a flutter of her wings and the barest clatter of her hooves on the dirt road. “Do you see a single cloud in the sky?” she asked, almost daring Roseluck to find a speck of white.
Roseluck bit the bait and looked up, only to flinch away from the bright sunlight. “Okay, so you finished work?”
“Yup! A whole hour early!” The pegasus smiled and pranced on the spot. “I came here to help!”
Oh, anything but that, she begged wordlessly.
“It’s okay, Raindrops; I’m leaving. And anyway, I don’t think there’s anything you could do to really help at this point.”
Raindrops’ ears lowered and she looked away. Her gaze went to the townsponies walking around and the other shops lining the streets of Ponyville. “Okay, I guess. I’ll just go home, then. There’s nothing else to do.” She sighed. “All alone, in my room. Maybe I’ll play with a ball, tapping it against the wall until I fall asleep...”
Roseluck rolled her eyes. “All right, you can escort me to the town’s edge,” she said. “But no further. Or else...”
“Or else what?”
Roseluck gave her a sly grin. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”
She shrugged. “Not really. So, where are we going?”
Roseluck turned and began walking, the hill Sweet Apple Acres resided on right ahead of her on the horizon. “I’m not sure, yet.”
Raindrop’s face scrunched up as she walked at Roseluck’s side. “You don’t know, yet? Well, what’s in the bag?”
“Oh, just books.”
“Books about what?” Raindrops pushed.
Roseluck swallowed hard. “Books that may or may not teach one to write and read poetry.”
The pegasus gasped, jumping to the air with her wings extending. “You’re going to see Big Mac!”
Roseluck misstepped. “What? No!”
“Yes you are!” Raindrops replied, turning it into a chant as she flew tight circles around her friend. “You’re going to Big M’s! You’re going to Big M’s!”
The earth pony’s hoof shot out, grabbing Raindrops by the scruff of her neck to drop her on the ground. “Shush, you!” she hissed, glancing at the few other ponies nearby. “That’s... well, okay, so I’m going to Sweet Apple Acres,” she said, her tongue tangling up. “I’m just bringing him some help. Nothing else.”
Raindrop’s waggled her eyebrows. “Oh, I’m sure that’s the case.”
“Well, it is!” Roseluck said, pouting.
Isn’t it?
They walked along, the edge of the town quickly approaching. “I understand you, Rosey. Do you know how few eligible bachelors there are in Ponyville? Let alone one as delicious as Big Mac? You've got the right idea to jump on him now! Not to mention what he might think of you-know-who. They’ll both be competing, you know...”
“Oh, her...” Roseluck looked at Raindrops. “Do you really think he’d like her?”
“Well, she’s sorta cute, I guess, and her vernacular is pretty hot, too. Last year, she spun circles around you at the compe...” Raindrops’ voice faded to nothing and she giggled twice, then blushed. “Well, you almost won. She’s just a natural showboater is all.”
They exchanged a look. “Yeah, almost... but it’s not the same this year. I really, really need the bits, and, well... he’s going to be there.” Roseluck’s eyes filled with a certain degree of hope and wishful thinking.
“Right! So, you have to do your best to help him,” Raindrop’s said matter-of-factly. “That way, you’ll win his heart, and the competition, despite there being no links between the two whatsoever.”
“Well, probably.”
“Although,” Raindorps’ said, touching a hoof to her chin, “I don’t see how asking Big Mac on a date would hurt your chances.”
“A-ask him on a what?” Roseluck asked, her mane standing straight on edge.
“You know, a date. All quiet, just the two of you, maybe at some schmancy restaurant. Then, you go to your place and... play with the birds and the bees and plant some seeds. Who knows what will sprout?”
A Raindrops smirked at her own wordplay Roseluck went stark still.
“A date?!” She’s mad! “I can’t ask him out on a date!” Ponies were stopping and staring at them, knowing smiles crossing more than one pair of lips. “What- what if he says no? What if I’m not his type? What if he’s got some weird fetish?”
Raindrops creeped closer, wrapping a wing around her friend in a semi-hug. “Don’t worry! I’m sure he’ll fall for you before her. You’re smart, talented, and your colour scheme’s one of the sweetest ones out there.” She tugged her friend closer. “What I mean to say is, you’re a great pony, and he’d be a big fat idiot if he didn’t want to date you.”
They arrived at the town’s edge, the houses and shops thinning out until only fields remained on either side. The hill dipped behind them, revealing a few thatch-roofed homes and a tall windmill spinning gently.
Roseluck slowed to a stop, adjusting the saddlebag on her back as she faced Raindrops. “Okay, Rainy, this is where we split.” Her friend’s ears drooped again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be right back.” She sighed and looked at the hill she needed to climb to reach her sought-after objective. “This is a bad idea, isn’t it.”
Raindrops placed a reassuring hoof on her shoulder. “There’s no such thing as a bad idea on the road to love,” she said, her voice resounding with an unfathomable wisdom. “You know, unless there’s kumquat involved.”
With a barked laugh and a quick roll of her eyes, Roseluck wheeled around and trotted away.
Stupid. So, stupid.
She walked towards the familiar path leading to the Apple family farm, trying her best to suppress the rising sense of deja-vu. The narrow road snaked around the apple orchards as it rose with a slow gradient, allowing any pony that willed it to walk amongst the fluttering butterflies and the cooling breeze playing with the leaves as if they were the finest of harps.
Insane.
Cresting the hill, Roseluck stopped, bags thumping at her sides as she sighed in exhaustion. The Apple Family barn rose ahead of her, the gigantic red building almost glowing as the midday sun illuminated its side. One of the double doors was open, revealing a much darker interior the light couldn’t quite touch.
Beyond it, the family’s house sat atop a small hill, shutters wide open and a fresh pie cooling on the window sill. Roseluck let out a deep sigh of relief when she saw nopony other than the inoffensive grandmother rocking in her chair, her head tilted back as she snored.
This is the stupidest idea I have ever had. No, the worst idea ever thought up by any mare in the long history of Equestria. Now, where’s Big Mac?
Her gaze travelled on, alighting on the barn. Worth a try, I guess. She trotted on, her ears perking at every bird call and whisper of wind on grass, hoping beyond hope to hear a certain baritone.
The barn’s entrance loomed above her, tall, dark, and ominous to the mare who was already searching for excuses to turn tail and bolt.
“Ah love you,” a deep voice said, filled with passion and strength, yet it still had the subtle tones of honesty.
Roseluck’s face reddened madly, her mind misfiring as she entered a daze.
“Love... dove... boxing glove... labour of.... Nnnope,” the voice spilling out of the barn said.
She blinked dumbly, edging towards the opening before sniffing. The musky odours of hay, fresh apples, and sweat were thick within the greenhouse-like building. Is that? No, it couldn’t be.
The sound of pen scratching on paper filled the room for a few brief seconds, followed shortly by a grunt that came from beyond a wall made of hay-bales. He coughed, just as Roseluck reached the bales and climbed up to look over the top-most block.
The straw scratched her chin and belly, tickling her as both her beige ears and eyes peeked over.
Big Macintosh sat on the rough dirt ground, brows furrowed as he glared at a piece of paper. In his massive square jaw was a quill slowly dripping ink onto the ground with tiny splatters. But the most important feature Roseluck immediately noticed were the thick spectacles just barely hanging onto the tip of his nose. Sweet Celestia, she thought, immediately smacking a hoof over her mouth to smother a squeak.
He leaned forwards, the taunt muscles in his neck stretching as he scratched out a line of text and scribbled another. “Nnope,” he sighed, the frustration in his deep voice carrying through the building.
Turning, he gently deposited the quill into an ink jar and squinted through his spectacles at the text. Clearing his throat, he began:
“When I see your smiling face,
Nopony else can compare,
But alas, I continue unrequited,
How I so desperately wish you were aware…”
Big Macintosh sighed and placed one of his hooves over the sheet, slowly beginning to drag it down.
“No!” Roseluck cried as she climbed further up the bale and stretched out her forehoof.
They froze, staring at one another unblinkingly while both their faces gained a few hues of red. “Uh, um, hi?” she said.
Beneath her, the hay shifted, the once neat and square bale ripping asunder under her weight to send her tumbling forwards.
Roseluck looked up from the ground at Big Macintosh, a sheepish grin crossing her lips as she lay sprawled at his hooves.
“Um, ya’ need a hoof, Miss Roseluck?” he asked.
She blinked at him before scrambling back to her hooves, her entire body covered in bits and pieces of hay. “Oh, no, I’m good and all right and good,” she babbled. Look at yourself, turned into a rambling idiot just because he has those incredibly adorable little glasses that make you want to press your tongue to his face as though he were a lollipop. Roseluck shook her head, and the burgundy locks of her mane went tumbling to and fro as she shook off the dust and grime. She tried to clear her mind her mind as the shafts of hay and straw fell from her.
Stop being so silly. Focus.
“So, um, hi?” she said.
“Hello.”
“Were you... was that... poetry?” she asked while pawing the ground.
For a few moments, the sound of her hoof rhythmically beating the barn floor was the only thing heard. A breeze snuck into the building, shuffling the loose hay and stealing his attention before he answered, “Eeyup.” Blood rushed to the stallion’s face.
“Could you read it?”
“Eeyup,” he replied, not moving an inch. Both ponies stood in the middle of the barn, old wooden walls and well-worn stalls all around them giving a sense of tranquility and peace.
One of her eyebrows rose. “Would you? What you read was really pretty...”
“Well, Ah guess Ah could.” Scratching the nape of his neck, his eyes skimmed over to the piece of paper. “But only if ya’ promise not tah laugh.”
Oh, Goddess, I get to see Big Mac, alone, reading a romantic poem. The mare’s head bobbed up and down, straining all of her muscles as she vigorously agreed.
Clearing his throat, Big Macintosh lifted the paper to his face, glanced at it, then peeked at her from over the edge.
“Once more, she deigns to grace us mere mortals with her presence.
Her brilliance and grace threaten to reduce me to tears.
Such beauty was not meant to be wasted on fools such as myself,
but the heavens themselves have seen fit to bestow her radiance upon my dreary life.
Were I a greater stallion, I would sweep her off of her hooves
and I would not rest until I saw each and every one of her desires fulfilled.
But alas, I am quite so beneath her, a humble laborer slaving in the fields.
Pining on the ground at her hooves, no more fit to care for her than the soil she trots.
One day, I hope to free myself from the endless cycle of loneliness I find myself trapped in
and confess my heartfelt wishes to her.
To spend each day with her in my embrace,
in deepest love, together, forever.”
He finished, his deep baritone echoing against the walls for a few precious seconds, repeating the last syllable endlessly. Roseluck’s mouth shut with a smack, and she swallowed hard. Was he, was he talking about... No, he couldn’t. Her cheeks reddened at the thought.
“That was beautiful,” she said, eyes sparkling as she demurely focused on her hooves. Her eyes widened at a thought before she jerked her head up. “So, um, who did you write that for?”
“J-just...” The stallion stuttered, setting her heart aflutter. Big Macintosh cleared his throat and looked right at her, unblinkingly staring into her eyes. “Ah wrote it ‘bout a mare, one Ah only met just recently an’ find mahself respectin’ more that a fair touch.”
Tears sprang to her eyes and quickly disappeared under a flurry of rapid blinks. He’s... no... really? she thought, her heart swelling to the breaking point even as she began to feel faint. Maybe I should ask him on a date. We could eat together, and recite poetry, and... then... maybe...
The mare shook her head, prompting the stallion to study the hay dejectedly.
“Oh! I-I, um, I would really like to meet that mare, one day,” she said, her own attention on the ground as her cheeks flushed red.
Big Macintosh let out a tiny, almost imperceptible, sigh of relief. “Eeyup.”
“So, um.” Roseluck pawed at the ground. “Oh!” Spinning around, the mare unclasped the buckles of her saddle bag and tossed the velvety flap aside, revealing the small bounty of books within. “I was going to bring these for you. I thought you’d like them, and I know they’ll help.”
Gently, she pulled out one tome after another, creating a stack on the dirt ground that reached up to her knees. Her work completed, Roseluck sat down, a sheepish look crossing her features as she bit her lower lip. “I do hope they help.”
“Ah’m sure they will, ma’am,” Big Macintosh said, nodding firmly and solemnly. “Thank you fer bringing them; Ah’ll study them diligently.”
They sat apart from one another, exchanging quick embarrassed glances before staring off to another obscure corner of the barn. “Would you...” Come on Roseluck, you can do this! She squinted her eyes shut, feeling the vivid heat touching her cheeks. “Maybe we could, go out... side. It’s really warm in here!” Horseapples!
“Ah’d be delighted to escort you out, ma’am,” he said, allowing her to notice the bullets of sweat pouring down the nape of his muscular neck as he walked to her side and gently pointed the way to the entrance.
Head down, Roseluck tried to stomp down the voice whispering at her to explain to Big Macintosh her feelings right then and there. Instead, the mare found herself fighting against a massive lump in her throat as she blindly followed his lead towards the exit. The cool outdoor air washed over her, playing with her mane even as it sent shivers down her spine.
“One sec; Ah’ve got something to fetch,” Big Macintosh's deep voice announced before he spun around and trotted back into the barn, his hoofsteps fading as he walked deeper into the structure.
Roseluck took a deep, calming breath, her eyes playing across the awesome view of Ponyville below and the ever smaller fields of apple trees in bloom. Maybe it’s for the best? She sighed. I guess I’ll just make an excuse and go back home. The competition’s in less than a day.
The stallion returned, a scrap of paper held tightly between his lips before he gently placed it at her hooves. He lifted his head and looked at her. “Miss Roseluck, Ah... Ah wanted you to have that, please.”
“You thanks,” she said, feeling the words fall from her in the wrong order. All her excuses melted away the split second their eyes met, rendering her words into a puddle of mumbled phrases and incoherent syllables. After a quick, soothing puff of air, the mare spoke in plain pony. “I-I should be going. Thanks for... that.” She coughed, bent down, and picked the note up, before practically galloping away.
Behind her, Big Macintosh’s shoulder drooped and he wiped a powerful hoof across his sweaty forehead.
“Eeyup.”
She ran.
Hooves tramped the soil of the path connecting Sweet Apple Acres and Ponyville as she galloped down the hill, ignoring the sights and smells of the nature around her. Trees blurred by and the birdsong became an incomprehensible mess.
At once she felt herself lift, and as she cleared the ditch she found herself in the grove of trees, the petals of apple blossoms falling around her as her lungs burned and her legs began to become weak.
Roseluck slowed to a halt. She laid down beneath one of the trees, breathing heavily as the warmth of her chest met the coolness of the shaded earth beneath the branches. “I’m so stupid,” she said aloud to the apple blossoms as she fumbled with her hooves, dropping the note.
Roseluck stared at the piece of paper for a few moments before finally giving in. Picking at it carefully with both her teeth and her hooves, she carefully unfolded the sheet and laid it flat across the ground and read:
“You are the most exquisite thing in all of creation,
Much more so than the beloved apple.
For although they serve towards hunger’s placation,
Harvesting them can be quite a hassle.
No written work could ever compare,
Their measured meter and careful rhyme.
As their pages fade and succumb to wear,
Forever lost in the sands of time.
But nothing can surpass such a wondrous mare,
Whose laugh puts the melodious chime to shame.
Unmatched grace, unparalleled care,
Oh, how I wish your heart I could claim!
Perhaps courage will one day descend from above,
And allow me to ask if you could return my love.”
After a few minutes, Roseluck remembered to begin breathing again.
She sat there, rereading the note again and again, the feeling of breathlessness returning each time. She read it to herself six, seven times, and soon she found that she was no longer looking down at it.
Somehow, she had rolled over onto her back. The poem was held above her, in her hooves, and the words were now highlighted in the midday sun.
Slowly, she lowered it to her chest and barrel. She blinked in the few beams of sun that fell through the shady branches of the tree, and then closed her eyes.
A few apple blossom petals fell around her, gently touching across her body before settling to the earth. She held the poem closer to herself, concentrating on the feel of the flowers... but imagining that their touch came from a different source.
“He wrote me a poem,” she whispered. A small breeze rolled through the orchard, freeing a cascade of petals from the trees and fueling her imagination.
Huge thank you to Cpl Hooves for aiding with the cheesy poetry.
Wrought by:
-RavensDagger
-High Lord of Grammar, Mighty Avenger of Orthography, Defender of the Poetic Prose, the Common Word, and his pet Raven called Charles: The Descendant*
Edited by:
-StapleCactus
Pre Read by:
-Cpl Hooves
-Frederick the Saiyan
-FlutterSyke
*titles written without permission!
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This is where I would put a "Oh God that's Cute" reaction pic, but I don't have one :/
I need more Raven whyyoudothistome
Also I seem to be running low on teenage angst and
FeatherBelle shippinglove triangles, happen to have anything like that laying around?cool!
A long, and solid new chapter to compliment the last one nicely.
Good job!
THE EMOTIONS!
Oh, this is gorgeous. As the world's fourth-worst poet, I'm prepared to argue that it may be cheese, but it's a very high-grade cheese.
Yay! New chapter! I'm going to try to remember to give a real comment after I've read it.
I love this, please continue!
love this chapter great work
you thanks
Yay
1734880
Welcome your.
If that is an Edgar Allen Poe refrence, then you have won yourself a watch.
This is a very cute story, and I'm thrilled I came across it. Roseluck really deserves more love; she seems like such a charming little mare.
1734911
Ah, I must admit I'm a fan of his writing, hence the 'Raven' in my name...
1734916
I approve of your tastes, good sir.
Congrads, you now have a new stalker.
1734951
Yay!
More fodder for my
junkprose!1734960
Actually, your stories are rather good. I've considered being your stalker for a while. Just now got the chance, now that my account is up and running. And the poetry here is lovely.
Ok this is DEFINITELY going to get a dramatic reading someday. Maybe once I finish this last semester.....
Sorry did I say that out loud.
1734976
That would be my dear friend Cpl Hooves' doing. He's got the creative brain for that sorta thing, go praise him. And Descy touched them up too.
Only took a month, but I'm glad it's finally here.
I feel warm inside
1734991
*cough*
3 weeks, 5 days
*cough*
D'aaawwwww... a love poem for Roseluck. Now to sit back and see what she decides to do about it.
This took a while, but it was worth it.
It's strange, I usually don't really enjoy romance or romantic poetry but this... is downright awesome!
Very well written and I really enjoyed it
Holy balls this may be the most adorably heartwarming story I've ever read.
dashie.mylittlefacewhen.com/media/f/rsz/mlfw2579_small.jpg
I have a sneaking suspicion who the other mare is...
1735287
Go on, guess!
1735330 Fluttershy?
1735338 Nah, clearly:
1735338
Uh, um, no, that's not it. B-but it's a good guess, I guess..."
1735360
1735358>>1735371
Please accept this Rose i present to you for this lovely story!
Eagerly awaiting next chapter!
1735412 Hmmmm, what an interesting situation. You know now I won't be able to focus on anything, right?
1735412 Well I just don't know then.
, that would just be silly.
I mean, it's clearly not
1735423
Yup, and right when you're getting hot, boom, quiet.
.....*squee!*
1735434 I'll just sit and wait for now. Anyways, everything is more fun when it's a surprise!
Unless it's TWILIGHT
1735434 OohOohOoh can I guess
1735487
Twilight, nah, she's more of a hard fiction type, not poetry...
1735503 Ok, I'll get back to you.
i0.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/000/225/400/sweetie%20belle%20that%20is%20beautiful.jpg
iambrony.jsmart.web.id/mlp/gif/25442__safe_animated_discord_fanfic_computer_now-kiss_discorderlyconduct_typing.gif
Found a few grammatical errors (which I will edit into this post later when I am home and not on this smart phone), but overall another great chapter.
AND!... just to be an ebil little bugger to the other readers, here is some food for thought: who says the love poems are for Roseluck?
I would argue the best, but I guess one of the best is good too.
<---) That would be absolutely amazing! Cheerilee or Twilight would be awesome as well, but 
would be preferred (For me at least).
And if the mystery mare Raindrops and Rose were talking about is who I think it is (--->
Keep up the astounding work Raven and Co.!
Went to do something incredibly random but heartfelt...
acquisio.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/success-kid.jpeg
...return with Love Poem.
That should be Raindrops, I believe.
This is getting fun, can't wait for more.
1735835
Dorp...
All I could think of was this pic (I would have preferred a Spitfire version but Scoots was the only one I could find)
i2.kym-cdn.com/photos/images/original/000/199/242/64810%20-%20fetish%20scootaloo%20that_is_my_fetish.png.jpeg.png
I really hope the poem is about her, can it be that simple?
I can't tell if the people guessing in the comments are joking or not.