A Funeral – by Twifight Sparkill
The first thing I'd noticed upon entering the damned chapel was that all of the flower arrangements were fucking terrible. It made me decidedly angry.
... or was it the coffin? I really don't know anymore, to be completely honest.
Mind, this being a funeral and all, it'd make sense to bet on the reason we were in church to begin with, really: fine, casket it is I suppose. Let's go with that, seeing as it was sort of hard to miss; planted dead square in the middle of the chapel, surrounded by countless colourful banners, all swathed in national flags, giant ornate tapestries covering the walls, and large framed photographs depicting her various heroic exploits arranged about the front.
A shining testament to all the besotted things that made her memorable. Irrefutable proof that she'd existed at all, I guess. Not an inkling nor hint of what made her truly outstanding... that unbridled spirit which refused
to give...
up...
no matter what.
Anyway. Let's start over, if you don't mind? Yeah, thanks.
Rainbow Dash had passed away, eventually succumbing to the spiritually wasting illness she'd battled for torturous months. After a lot of bothersome fussing about by ponies that specialized in legal matters some days after, regarding possessions and allocated assets, a service was planned out due her last rites.
In between the drunken recollections and sober anxieties I'd suffered since she'd moved on, I had somehow agreed to be present and presentable for the event.
That'd certainly be a surprise to a lot of the attending ponies, I'd figured. Damn 'em all anyway; I wasn't a socialite sort at any point in my adult life, and despite some disparaging press regarding my public relations, I'd somehow maintained an affable affair with the important media during my career. Now? Pft, let them publish whatever garbage claiming that I was some reclusive weirdo. They weren't wrong.
On the day of the funeral, I was purposefully the earliest of any bereaved to arrive on the scene at the ministry... although not completely coherent. According to the half-empty bottle of shitty whiskey in my hoof and a failing recollection as to how I'd gotten there, I'd probably touched down some time the previous night in a drunken stupor. It had started raining, and I was safely sheltered by the surrounding forest outside until well assured that everyone setting up the service had packed on and fucked off.
"... oh great, now I PHU-HUURK!"
I had set a very specific itinerary to follow in preparation: see if the old uniform fit, grab another bottle of bourbon, pocket breath mints, fly the entire distance to Ponyville, drink... cry a lot, and... try not to throw up. Well shit! An hour or two before dawn, huddled down behind the treeline, and I'm tossing up blood and breakfast like a schoolfilly. At least I'd brought those mints.
Voices flitted quietly through the dawn mist, hitting my malfunctioning ears as incomprehensible. Dark figures moved away from the mission, slowly absorbed by the persistent monochrome fog.
I ran into the church when the last tending pony disappeared from view, trying not to splash mud and grass clippings on my coat or snag my uniform as I criss-crossed between the decorative hedges. I threw the front doors wide, stumbled frantically through the entryway, and managed into the sanctuary without incident.
The first thing I noticed was the coffin.
... I was not ready to say goodbye, damn it. Not by a long shot.
My head was caught up in a torrential downpour of disturbing thoughts; my heart had dropped hard to the bottom of my chest, sending waves of desperate ache through every inch of me upon impact, and my body was wracked with exhaustion all at once.
Admittedly, these symptoms were likely intensified for my finishing every drop of alcohol I could consume the previous night, but I'd faced some pretty hairy situations whilst still drunk. Fun fact: I faced almost every situation that way.
Where were we again? Oh yeah. The last thing I noticed upon entering the chapel was... yes, now I remember. The flower arrangements were fucking terrible.
I studied them for a few minutes, since I couldn't manage much else. Anyone with an ounce of artistic sense would plainly see that all the decorative floral appointments were uninspired; almost thoughtlessly strewn about the casket, given no forethought whatsoever. The colourful encompass failed to evoke any suitable response. The bouquet pairings were all wrong; the symmetry was thrown wildly off to one side for crowding colours against monochrome and green, and NONE of this meant a FUCKING THING to a PEGASUS! Flowers grew on the GROUND! That's the LAST place we'd EVER want to be! Now you're going to BURY US IN IT!?
Rainbow Dash had never actually decided whether to be buried or cremated. When she was considered well enough to make her own decisions in regards to her Last Will, she'd waffle on many of the particulars because... well, she was Dash. I was in Canterlot when it was announced that she would be interred in the Ponyville cemetery by her executor, Princess Twilight Sparkle.
... I reacted poorly to the news. I still harboured a grudge. Scattering ashes meant flying on high, spread by the soaring winds across the expanse of Equestria... that was what she deserved. So she worked in Ponyville! She became an Element of Harmony! BIG DEAL! What she was appointed or did for a job didn't define her! WHY DID HEROES NEED TO BE BURIED?
All for the sake of keeping Equestrian traditions? Oh, of course. What a worthwhile testament to the memory of the greatest flyer that'd ever lived! It made me want to break EVERYTHING! I was BEYOND mortified! HOW DARE THEY?!
...
... I took a knee and focused really hard on the burgundy carpet. My heart was racing ... okay. Deep breaths.
Having thought about it for a while, I decided I never much cared for tradition or memorials myself. Neither did she, really. Maybe I should calm down and accept that my opinions are shit. They're shit. I'm shit for being so mad about the whole thing, even though it still irks me to the bone.
This was all about precedence. It's about maintaining a legacy that would influence the generations to come. It had nothing to do with being free. It wasn't about who she really was, it wasn't about me... it wasn't about us at all. This was about Rainbow Dash.
Rainbow Dash.
My chest hurt. I sat down, and promptly blacked out.
I awoke hours later to hushed voices. Shifting awkwardly in my seat, I turned at the sound of heavy doors being opened as others started to arrive within the chapel.
Everyone was draped in a mournful black, lingering awkwardly after being ushered through the crowding foyer, until they gratefully spied someone they knew. They'd rush together, greet one another in somber tones, then embrace amidst restrained sobs. Over and over again. It played as a sort of melancholy ballet, performed by huddled, whimpering shadows until they finally found their places.
At least some of the congregation was appropriately important, comprised foremost of national heroes and esteemed royalty, then closest family and notable military comrades. At least something was going right.
Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle came to sit at the front with me, my two very best friends, settling on either side. That almost helped soothe my frayed nerves. Almost.
"... I still feel like we're missing something important," I muttered during the ushering of mourners.
"It never feels quite right," the ivory unicorn to my left insisted, giving me a reassuring shove at the shoulder. "It never should, considering the circumstances. Plus you reek of alcohol."
I dutifully assumed my place near the altar, fussing with my tie as parishioners filed in, shaking my head as they found a place to settle. It was strange to watch – all these ponies who knew they'd be here, cordoned off in the tightest of cliques to share their paltry personal experiences of her with each other before, during and after the ceremony.
As if most of them ever knew her in the slightest, damn 'em all.
Bells began to ring. Ponies in religious finery took their places, and it was time I took mine. Giving the coffin one last glance, I resumed my post between my beloved sister mares on the front row pew with an exasperated sigh – there's no lovely banner advertising the event, nor celebrating crowd now. No glamorous cloud track in the sky, no screams of joy or curses for wagered bets miscalculated. This was altogether lifeless, and it was an insult to her boisterous majesty.
An elder pony dressed in the finery of important ceremony walked from behind the drapery, and slowly approached the altar.
This was an obsequy in all aspects of the word; a morbid finale. A demise of old ideas to usher the new. How I hated it all.
"Dearly beloved of the famed departed, let us for a moment recall the mare who has so touched and guided our lives and dreams before we begin."
I cursed under my breath as the robed pony spoke. Really? That's how these things start? Pathetic.
"Don't you dare say a disparaging thing," Apple Bloom hissed at my right ear. "You stick to this firm and proper. Ah know you hate the pomp and circumstance as much as she did, but this here ritual is sacred. Be respectful now, y'hear?"
When the buck did Rainbow worry about being respectful, exactly? Throughout her pointedly illustrious career, be it as a member of the Elements of Harmony or with the esteemed Wonderbolts, did she ever consider the consequences of sacred? Why, breaking all the rules was part of her character – she lived to defy the odds. Be it teaching a Princess to fly or showing a recruit how to make her wings work despite the medical evaluation insisting she'd never be an actual pegasus...
"It's starting," a soothing voice spoke to me then. A yellow hoof touched at my decorated shoulder from behind, distracting my mind from yelling piteous obscenities, and I turned to regard Fluttershy with a pained expression.
I can't do this. I'm not ready.
"It is an honour and privilege to welcome everyone here, esteemed guests and honoured royalty, to our humble Ponyville parish. This is a very sad day for us, gathered here to celebrate the memory of a dear friend whose devotion and dedication, bravery and sacrifice, shall forever be recognised in the annals of Equestrian history and our hearts. As is customary on these occasions, we recognise the immediate family of the departed, and would ask that Captain Scootaloo share with us her fondest memories of Rainbow Dash," the robed pony ushered. "Please, Captain, a few words?"
As my name was spoken, I neatly stood and straightened my collar, then walked stiffly onto the stage.
Standing at the podium, I only then actually spied upon all the ponies gathered to pay homage to my irreplaceable hero. It was... breathtaking, if that even adequately applied. Humbling, certainly – it burned at all the pessimistic opinions I'd had of the collected onlookers, honestly.
Most had been friends and dedicated comrades beyond Rainbow's persistent goals, going so far as to become decided members of a very particular military effort – a group of sister mares dedicated to the safety and peace of Equestria. They were all here now, in various states of progression, to show their love.
Even Twilight, assumed now as some manner of immortal, seemed frail and uncomfortable at the moment. Quietly, I found that the most consolatory image to focus upon – of all the heroes to assume the role of leadership, it should be Twilight especially that suffered now! There were some amazing ponies that'd trotted beside her, aging Elements or otherwise. She'd better bear the weight of this passing most of all. That'd make for a mortal justice. That would make the most sense, those who idolized heroes for their fleeting failings beyond their sacrilegious ascension.
Bury her in the ground, eh? Cry, you wretch. I want to see you feel this as strongly as we do. She'd want to see it too, I'm sure.
... my gaze strayed to my closest friends then. Sweetie Belle made a gesture, ushering me on. Apple Bloom simply glared, assuming I'd say something disrespectful about the ponies collected who couldn't give a damn during Rainbow's final months.
She was right, of course.
I alone looked after my hero as her mind failed... it was horrible. In the last few days, it was enough to even look at her – she had no cognitive function left. No spirit, no account of who or what she was. She was a derelict husk living as a mindless parasite; eat, shit, and sleep. No voice, no mind, no... nothing of her former self. I hadn't any tears left at that point. I fed her, I brushed her, I bathed her... I changed her undergarments. She was as beautiful and powerful as she'd ever been to me, and no failure of the mind would betray her importance.
... or my love.
"I knew Rainbow Dash well," I suddenly spoke aloud. That surprised me as much as those in attendance, actually.
I'd finally given up. My wings were useless. I wasn't a pegasus, or anything like a proper pony. I'd nothing left anymore.
"Don't let anyone tell you otherwise, Scootaloo," Dash called from my bedroom door, making me look up from my tear-soaked pillow. "I am gonna make your dreams come true. I promise. Just you wait."
"She made my dreams come true," I eventually managed, adjusting my uniform's collar uncomfortably. "Rainbow Dash forced me to accept that I was only ever hampered by my shortcomings, which gave me the most precise understanding of my limitations."
Nopony in the gathered faction seemed to have the slightest idea of what I'd meant by that.
"You simply cannot succeed until you've been told you've failed," I explained. "There's no real reason for me to be here; now a retired captain of the Wonderbolts, humbled student chosen by the merciful Element of Loyalty, except I'm enlisted to expound what that title stood for by honour."
I coughed.
"Excepting Applejack, I believe many of us would benefit to review the meaning of honour."
"It ain't good, sugarcube," the orange earth pony whispered to Rainbow, holding her hooves. I simply sat in silence, having awaited the results as impatiently.
"Verdict-shmerdict." Dash huffed, shoving Applejack's hooves away. "I'm not into bad news. Tell me something I don't know."
Applejack worded something silently, perhaps a prayer or message. After a tired sigh, she finally continued: "This is it, Rainbow. There isn't anything any pony can do for yeh."
I'd never seen Applejack cry, in honesty. Even when Granny Smith passed away some years before, the farmer remained steadfast and resolute. This, however... this thing with Dash, it hit somewhere closer than even I would have suspected.
The stricken cyan pegasus merely gathered Applejack up, hugged her tight, then placed a kiss alongside her cheek.
"Shut up," she cooed in a quiet tone. "Just shut up."
She kissed her gently, then bid her leave.
I'll admit that it was mostly a joint effort during the beginning with me and Applejack. We would both stay with Rainbow Dash as often as possible, spinning yarns and swapping tales – we'd all laugh then, Dash included. Speaking of bygone years, even my having eventually retired from the Wonderbolts upon being placed there by...
Ahem.
... when Rainbow began to lose herself, that's when Applejack became a stranger. In hindsight, I couldn't blame her – she loved Rainbow more than I did. I watched two ponies deteriorate over those long, awful months. One had a family and a farm to mind, the other... I'll never fault Applejack. I came to love her as much as Rainbow did, if not in the same way.
They'd argue over the slightest things, even when the pegasus could barely feed herself... it was heartwarming, yet so terribly tragic. I cried a lot back then, I suddenly recalled. All this time I'd thought I was an emotional rock like her, but... yeah, tears.
I could never be Applejack to Rainbow. I wasn't jealous; envious, perhaps. Totally different. I really shouldn't have singled out poor Applejack.
Apple Bloom shot me an awful stare – yeah, I know. Rainbow would've wanted that rectified, you know? Don't hate me, Bloom. We both knew.
"Rainbow Dash thrived and excelled for knowing what could and could not be accomplished – we're only ever limited by our dreams. When we surrender... when we have nothing left, that's when only a hero could ever convince you of otherwise. That's when you realise you were wrong about... everything, despite yourself. That's when you know you're real."
"I hate this place," Rainbow growled, kicking at her restraints. "Let me out."
I blinked at her.
"Let me out, or I'll pulverize you!"
I cleared my throat. My eyes were blurred with tears.
"Do you remember me, Rainbow Dash? I'm Scootaloo. You're my hero. You're in a hospital. You're sick. Remember?"
"I'LL BUCKING KILL YOU! LET ME GO! TWILIGHT!? RARITY! ANYPONY! HELP!"
I wiped my eyes again, trying to hide a gasping sob.
"How is this... how am I... I'm flying!" I screamed, hoarse and breathless. "It's not possible!"
"Like I'd ever let you down?" The multi-colored mare winked, looping in place. "I always knew you'd be special, Scoots. Let's prove the world wrong! Ever been in the Wonderbolts' locker room?"
She winked. I puked.
"My hero epitomized faith in others! She lived and loved as raw and real as anyone, and even more! If I could ever be what she... or able to make... you understand..."
I hadn't planned on losing my nerve at this point. This was the most important part! No, come on Scootaloo! Pull it together! Stop... stop choking. Stop crying. Please.
I stood over her bed. She'd passed in the night, well before I'd arrived to feed her breakfast. She looked positively awful. No color at all. Not a hint. I just stared.
"I'm so sorry for your loss," the young attendant whispered, somewhat intimidated by my uniform and for the standing of the freshly deceased mare in question.
"... shut up," I growled. "Just... get out. Leave her alone! DO YOU HEAR ME!? GET THE BUCKING HECK OUT OF HERE BEFORE I KICK YOUR TEETH IN!"
... I felt immediately awful for my outburst as the little mare ran out, leaving me alone with Dash. Or... what was Dash. What hadn't been Dash for months, in honesty.
I fell to the ground. I remember screaming and crying. I remember a short nap. I remember... sadly, everything. Everything. Every detail, every besotted nuance. The smells, the colors...
The hall was silent. My sobs echoed back to me from the furthest reaches, and they slapped against my ears as I tried to collect myself. Almost done, girl.
"She will be remembered," I ultimately managed. "She will forever be regarded as a hero and an accomplished athlete and she will never be forgotten. As long as there's an ounce of her in any of us here..."
There were so many children present, none of them even remotely prepared for this. I had to finish this in a way that wouldn't scar them for life. For them, I managed a weak smile. That's all I could figure.
"... we'll be able to overcome and succeed."
The rest of the process was a complete blur. The casket was laid, ponies milled about aimlessly in the rain, and a collection of notables stopped by to wish me well and tell me that everything would be okay. I nodded, made a smile or two, shook hooves, but mostly paid attention to the creeping daytime hangover that caused my brain to vibrate.
"You all right?" Apple Bloom asked me at the food table, jammed with treats and confections all prepared by Pinkie Pie.
In my mind, I was still at her bedside. On the floor crying. Outside puking. Anywhere and everywhere but here right now.
"I have to be," I muttered. "These cookies look good, at least..."
I popped one in my mouth, chewed it unconsciously – it didn't taste like anything. To be fair, nothing was as vibrant or meaningful since... well. I already knew nothing would be the same.
I found myself pondering the afterlife again, if it even existed – then the alternative possibility of absolute nothingness: I simply couldn't conceive or accept it. Is that all we're deserving after a long, exhausting life sentence? Is that all she amounted to, despite being a permanent fixture in my heart? ... alternatively, how long would I live for? I'm no spring chicken. Who would look after me if I suffered a similar fate? Would I want to live much further than the prognosis anyway?
Fuck if this shit didn't haunt me every second of every goddamn day since she got sick.
Sweetie Belle stared at me with an expression of growing concern. I guess I'd started crying again. I hardly noticed it anymore, really. What were tears worth? What's a life worth if you can't stop thinking about the unfairness of age and illness?
Life without Rainbow Dash... the very thought absolutely terrified me.
"Scootaloo?" Sweetie Belle whispered at my ear.
I nodded slowly, only absently aware of my surroundings. There would be no more visits. No more emergencies. No more careful planning. No more living to make sure a hero died with dignity. Two years of praying, of hoping, of being so scared that you couldn't make a step without a drop of drink.
No more.
"... yep, these are real good," I stated blankly.
The End.
Author's Note
Sharon, Jarrett, uncle Ivor, uncle Terry... dad. I love you so much. My heart, my sorrow, my hope to see you again one day when I join you in the forever. Rest peacefully.
