***

"Form Prayers to Broken Stone"

A sip of black coffee was normally enough to shake the morning into any young girl, but this particular girl was hardly normal. Since even the darkest roasts never seemed to serve to do the trick (especially considering she couldn't stand the stuff), she decided to try a different approach to attaining caffeine. Dipping a licked finger straight into the open tub of coffee grinds, Rainbow Dash let plenty of deep bistre speckles stick around the tip of her index digit before plopping it back into her warm mouth. Immediately, her upper lip twitched and her eyes grew wide. Following an appalled expression, Rainbow Dash spat the grains right back out, scraping the remnants off her tongue with two fingers.

“Gross, that was a shitty idea,” Rainbow growled to herself in the raspy voice she bore at such hours of the day.

As she was busy hawking mouthfuls of tinted saliva into her kitchen sink, she noticed the bobbing lights of a familiar vehicle pass by her window. Turning on an ecstatic heel to trounce out of her kitchen, Rainbow Dash slipped over her woolen socks and crashed right onto the tile beneath her. She hissed loudly and rubbed the now sore spot on her lower back, but scampered back up to her feet right away.

She made it to the door promptly, her inherent speed providing her with the skill to do so, and eagerly yanked the plank of wood inside her house. An arctic chill slammed into her, causing a wince to accompany the light watering of her eyes, but she stood there in the cold air anyway. Watching the charming two door Jeep pull up into her narrow driveway, Rainbow smiled warmly and waved wildly towards the driver.

The fairly-maintained Wrangler sighed as the ignition rested, and the driver shifted on the parking brake before casting the girl a curious look. Shaking her head with an amused chuckle, the driver pushed open her door and climbed out (having to use the step along the lip of the undercarriage to lower herself from the height provided by her winter tires). She reached once back into the Jeep to place her ranch hat onto the driver's seat, as she always wore the thing while behind the wheel, before slamming the door closed.

“Get back inside, y'dork, you're gonna freeze up,” Applejack called out to the taller girl, who looked down at herself to confirm Applejack's prescription.

She then realized quite how little she was wearing, though it was perfectly adequate attire were she to remain in her house. Her thin long-sleeved shirt hugged her athletic body, outlining her somewhat masculine figure, and her low-hanging jeans bore multiple holes (which Rainbow had cut and scratched in by herself to suit a style she appreciated) to permit the late autumn breeze to sneak inside. A cheeky grin slid over her face as Applejack came within hearing distance of her next remark.

“Freeze into the hottest ice sculpture you'll ever see,” she muttered through a charismatic smirk, spreading her arms out to show off her toned physique.

“I ain't never seen an ice sculpture with her cute little nipples perkin' up,” the blonde girl teased back, her eyes darting back and forth from Rainbow's traceable chest.

“I'll be your first,” Rainbow replied with a wink, standing entirely in Applejack's way as she got to the front door. A frown crossed her face suddenly though, and she murmured, “You're late, AJ.”

“Roads 're a spell slick,” Applejack explained simply, but she shifted uneasily in the doorway and ran her teeth over her lower lip lightly. “Your folks home?”

“Nope, I'm all yours,” the short-haired girl nearly sung, teetering on her toes to playfully compete with the slight height Applejack gained from the heels of her boots.

“Lovely,” she responded in a lower, fond voice, hardly pausing before stretching onto her toes and pressing her lips and chest against Rainbow Dash's.

A charmed hum and a prompt reciprocation from Rainbow Dash was given, and her strong hands wrapped around Applejack’s trim waist to pull her nearer. In spite of the masculine stigma attached to the casual flannel draping around the smaller girl, her feminine curves were enticingly tucked away where only Rainbow Dash could find. Reluctantly, Applejack slipped back down flat onto her feet and flashed her eyes open. As eagerly expected, Rainbow's expression melted into a pleased and loving grin, the same expression Applejack's lips always left traces of. The blonde girl mirrored the smile as she noticed it, proud that even after being with the athlete for so long, she could still stimulate such a fond response from something so common as a kiss.

“Wait,” Rainbow grumbled as the corners of her lips grew heavy and fell towards her chin. “Why'd you ask if my parents were home? They'd, like, gush gooey gobs of joy and excitement if they saw you kissing me.”

“Exactly, they always get s' darn obsessed with bein' acceptin' and all, they steal me away from you,” Applejack reminded her softly, touching a gentle finger to the tip of the stubborn girl's nose.

“They do adore you.” She rolled her eyes in a pout as she remembered how she had been ignored every time Applejack had been over for dinner (which really bothered her, considering she loved being the centre of attention). “Not that I blame them.”

“Don't be sour, sugar,” her freckles drifted like stars over her face as her words came out of a cute smile. “Besides, since they're out an' all, we could stay a while, if y'want.”

Applejack's jacket slowly slid over her shoulders, revealing more of that woolen long-sleeve shirt she wore underneath. Noticing the action, Rainbow's eyes darted down to the girls much more revealed chest, catching sight of the spattered patterns of freckles that sunshine had speckled upon her collar from the summer they had shared together. She swallowed to pretend that she hadn't been blatantly staring, and stifled a cough with the side of her fist before licking her lips and coming up with something to say.

“The guys already think that I'm the reason whenever you're late,” Rainbow retorted with a stoic voice, focused on watching Applejack's dimples dent her cheeks as she chuckled lightly at the statement.

“You are, gettin' my hands all dirtied up with that deathtrap of yours,” she murmured back, stepping close to Rainbow Dash and lacing her jawline with careful kisses.

As her amaranth eyes pleasantly floated behind flickering eyelids, Rainbow let her fingers twitch along Applejack's rounded hips. Their warm bodies fought furiously with the forceful freeze of the wind, which still crept in through the half ajar front door. However, the succulent scent of the blonde's still damp hair woke her out of her entrancement in time to purse her lips in defense.

“Hey, the Roadster's running just fine, I got him home in one piece yesterday,” Rainbow Dash growled to protect the imagined pride of her vehicle, and the vibration of her throat tickled Applejack's curious mouth.

Pulling away to cast Rainbow a skeptical raise of one pale eyebrow, Applejack muttered, “Somehow I doubt that.”

“Want to bet?” her competitive and defiant snark sounded with a high pitched crack of her husky voice, and she grabbed Applejack's jacket and roughly slung it over the girl's small shoulders. “I'll prove it.”

“You best not be thinkin' I'll ride with you in that junk heap,” the blonde spoke seriously, tugging her wrists through her sleeves as Rainbow tossed on a much too large jacket.

“Why not? I'm a great driver,” she bragged with a smirk, though Applejack's doubtful expression reminded her of her tenancy to greatly exceed the speed limits and neglect safety procedures. “I have a helmet from my old dirt bike, if you'd prefer to wear that. My parents always do tell me to wear protection.” A wink followed her playful banter, and Applejack just smiled and shook her head.

“I trust you, Rainbow,” Applejack responded easily, linking arms with the girl as she nearly sprinted out of the front door towards her half of the garage (the other half belonged to her parents, though the whole thing was connected to the neighbour's, as their townhouses were built so close together they almost merged into one structure).

“Good.” Rainbow leaned over and kissed her on the temple before idly entering the code for her garage door. As they stood there and waited for the metal to slide out of their way, Rainbow was irked by something. “Say, why are we all meeting so early, anyway?”

“Beats me, it was Pinkie’s idea, as usual,” Applejack responded with a shrug, though the answer did not seem like enough.

“Damn, that frizzy-headed slut sure is a pain in my ass, she probably hasn’t even seen her bed yet,” Rainbow spat as she pulled her phone out of her rear pocket and sifted through it with one thumb, as her other arm had made its way around Applejack once more. After an agitated grunt, Rainbow snapped at the phone, “Yo, pick up. Pick... up. Dude, you’re the worst. Answer me.”

“No answer?” Applejack gathered, peering up to Rainbow as she tried to call once more.

“Nope, dumb bitch is either ignoring me or passed out. Come on…” As no response came once more, Rainbow growled loudly and considered throwing her cellular device across the driveway.

“Maybe she’s drivin’?” the smaller girl gambled a reason, but Rainbow did not seem interested in any excuse.

“She’s an attention whore, she’d probably pick up the phone while shoving a tampon in,” Rainbow crudely remarked, and her wandering fingers strutted over Applejack’s rear until they found the sneaky peeking out of her own cell phone.

Grabbing the thing by what little bit was within reach, she slid it out of the girl’s tight pocket and flipped it open to find Pinkie Pie’s number. She pressed Applejack’s cell phone right up against her other ear, listening to the dual not-so-melodic sounds of automated ringing. While one after another reached nothing but the voice messaging system (which consisted of giggling and some optimistic spewing of jubilant phrases) Rainbow Dash groaned loudly and hung up each phone.

“It’s ringing, so her cell is on. She’s probably on the other line or trying to keep some suspense. I hate it when she does that bullshit,” Rainbow rambled irritably, slipping Applejack’s phone back into her rear pocket and patting it twice.

“Give the girl a break, honey,” Applejack politely told her, taking her by the hand and leading her towards the MGB which came into view (though Rainbow had to duck slightly under the rising garage door that Applejack was short enough to sneak beneath).

“A break? That girl’s whole life is a break,” the taller girl said with a hiss, flipping a lock of hair out of her face. “All she does is go out partying every other night.”

“Maybe there’s a reason for that,” Applejack wagered softly, and Rainbow just snorted at the prospect.

“Yeah, she doesn’t give a shit about anything except having a good time.” Rainbow Dash came up alongside her vehicle and peered in through the windows fondly before trying the door.

“She cares about us,” she reminded the more abrasive girl, who looked up at her with a less irritable expression.

“Well I guess that means I can always count on a sweet-tooth juvenile birthday present every year,” Rainbow sarcastically mumbled as she slid into the seat of her compact car and stabbed her key into the ignition. Upon trying it once, which yielded no results, she tried it another three times, listening to the very few sounds the MGB Roadster made at all. “Shit.”

“Oh, it’s runnin’, is it?” Applejack teased, extending a smirk through the passenger’s side window and she leaned her arm on the roof and peeked into the old car.

“It’s no big deal, you can have a look at it when we get back,” Rainbow told her as she played it of coolly, hopping back out of the car and looking it over.

“Is that all y’keep me ‘round for?” the blonde wondered with a raise of her eyebrow.

“No,” Rainbow Dash corrected her, athletically sliding right over the hood of the car (something she had to do considering how little space there was in front of the car due to the puny garage) and stopping in front of the smaller girl. With a charming smile and a tempting wrap of her arm around Applejack’s slender waist, she explained, “I keep you for your hot bod’, too.”

“Well that eases my mind.” Applejack sarcastically rolled her eyes.

“I’m kidding, babe. You know you’re my world.” The short haired girl kissed her once more, another firm yet tender expression of her adoration.

As the two pulled slowly away, Applejack longingly looked upon the taller girl’s melting smile and spoke, “Well y’can’t have me all t’ yourself, we gotta go meet the girls.”

“I know, I know,” Rainbow whined, bouncing on her toes and chewing the inside of her cheek. An idea struck her suddenly though, “Hey, do I get to drive the Jeep today?”

“Keep dreamin’,” Applejack denied and stuck out her tongue with a wink. “You’ll crash it, I can’t afford any more repairs.”

“Jeeps always look way more awesome with dents! Come on AJ, I promise I won’t totally wreck it, scout’s honour,” she begged, following Applejack out of the garage with her fingers tugging on the rear belt loops of Applejack’s jeans like a child.

“Keys stay with me, sugarcube,” the blonde confirmed as she pulled the lapel of her jacket further closed once breaching the frigid outdoors once more.

“... Well, either way, my love,” Rainbow nearly sung, slinging her arms over Applejack’s shoulders and squeezing her in a tight and warm embrace. “It’s a beautiful morning, and you look gorgeous!”

After accepting a lengthy press of lips against her cheek, Applejack smiled back at the girl who was still draped over her, reaffirming, “Still a no.”

“Aww, man!” Rainbow Dash whined once more, but kicked her garage door button to close it and sorely followed her friend into the brisk air.

From Rainbow’s suburban townhome (which she constantly poked fun at regarding the conformity and cookie-cutter design), the run of the city skyline was barely visible from above the straight-edged mirrored buildings that lined her street. If one squinted when confronted with the harsh backlighting of the sunrise, it became clear that the city itself was magnificent at such an hour: buildings painted surreal myriads of colours, clamours of early rising feet and wheels racing through the narrow streets, and windows sweating and leaking as their rims of frost melt to the kiss of the morning sun. Of course, most inhabitants were still tucked in to their respective beds or drowsily napping on bus routes or cab rides to their destinations.

Some Canterlot residents, however, were fortunate enough to see the entire spectacle from an intimately adored and familiar location along a particular hill.

Pale arrays of rose and violet lined the dawning skyline, obscured every few seconds by a white huff of heated breath. The crisp chill that lingered in the early morning air was enough to make one’s nose hairs stand stiff to attention, and the scent was of a premature winter’s frost clinging to the gutters of rooftops and tracing blades of grass like chalk outlines. Still, shin-high woolen-insulated boots (stuffed with two pairs of socks) trod over the cracking and crunching frozen dew.

After nestling her nose under the abundantly long turtleneck of the sweater she wore beneath a windbreaker, Fluttershy hummed thoughtfully as her fingers clumsily prodded at the cell phone she clutched in her gloves (which she had to remove to navigate at all). She lifted her eyes at last, settling them on the approaching familiar lines of trees, zoning signs and foot-made paths. Even if she was usually the kind of girl who appreciated dawn walks, she was less than enticed by the summons she had received at such an hour.

Though her eyes were blurred by the stinging of harsh winds, the same winds that brushed her unwashed, straight locks of hair out in front of her face, Fluttershy squinted at the distant sight of an all too well-known friend of hers. The brilliant hues of pink and blue that always clung to her clothing would not ever go unnoticed, especially in the ambient dimming of mist and clouds rolling in from the North.

Huffing a relieved and tired sigh, Fluttershy quickened her step to close the distance between her and one of her dearest friends. Her light steps crackled over the gently stiffened grass and left small spaces between dew devoured strands. As she meekly passed out a wave, which went unnoticed since she tucked her hand back against her chest as it was slapped at by a gust of wind, Fluttershy pussy-footed her way over to her seated friend.

“P-Pinkie Pie!” she weakly called out over the clapping of the wind, and was not surprised she got no response (not that she could have seen it, since she closed her eyes against the harsh breeze).

Brushing her hair out of her face once more and nearly stumbling over an impression in the dirt she should have been well accustomed to, Fluttershy cleared her drowsy throat. The hill was a very common place for the two of them to have met, in fact, it was where most of the girls gathered if they had nothing else to do. Though now that it had grown colder, meeting outside became something of a chore, so Fluttershy was still intrigued that Pinkie had bothered to ask her there when they did not have school nearby to account for the proximity. It could well have been because Pinkie’s parents would not allow her back in the house after staying out so late, as often was the case, but Fluttershy was not one to speculate.

“Why’re you up so early?” Fluttershy asked loudly, though the answer might well have been much simpler than that. “Or have you not gone to bed yet? Pinkie, you really have to stop doing that, it’s juvenile and stupid.”

Fluttershy sighed as she got closer to the girl, rubbing her hands together as she realized she might have come off as a little overbearing. Shaking it off, she ducked beneath the overhang of an old tree and came right up to the girl who sat under it. With her back to the trunk and her eyes cast on her lap, she looked far too pensive for Pinkie Pie to have often appeared. Stalled by the oddity of her position, Fluttershy slowed in pace and stared at the frizzy-haired girl, who possibly looked to still have silly string or confetti stuck in her mane.

It was quite apparent that Pinkie Pie was not dressed for any party she usually would have done herself up for. Often some vibrant array of mismatched trendy articles would suffice for an ensemble to wear in a place that was probably too dark to see well in anyway, but her clothing that day seemed different. Her dress was well-fitted, long, and clearly expensive, perhaps made of silk. She wore what looked like pearls and diamonds (probably the most expensive jewelry she or her mother owned), and high-heels rested on the soles of her sizable feet. It was obvious that she had dressed up to meet someone very important.

“Pinkie Pie? A-Are you listening to me?” she stammered lightly with a fearful voice, going right over to the girl and leaning down in front of her before reaching to touch her face.

It was then that it became clear that Pinkie Pie was not, in fact, paying any attention at all. Honestly, she had none to spend. As Fluttershy’s cool hand brushed against the girl’s cheek, she flinched to notice how ice cold it was to the touch. She suddenly noticed exactly where Pinkie Pie sat.

The girl was positioned, hunched over, amidst a sea of debris: be it empty vials, bottles, or scattered little pills (somewhat crushed or broken, mostly hidden between the overgrown blades of grass). As Fluttershy’s frantic eyes gathered the clues, her heart raced up into her throat and choked her. Still, she reached out and took Pinkie Pie by the shoulders in both hands, furiously shaking her.

“Pinkie! Answer me! Are you—?” she was silenced by the way that Pinkie’s head rolled uselessly back and forth, as if she cared not to hold it up for herself.

Her hands trembled profusely as the young woman at arm’s reach remained statuesque at her warm and friendly touch. Her usually vivacious and glowing skin appeared dulled and pale, her often wiggling and dancing body rested still as stone, and her always bubbling personality remained entirely absent. Falling right to her knees and bottom with eyes as wide and white as the moon, Fluttershy crashed head-first into the reality of the situation.

Grabbing the girl’s submissive body, Fluttershy threw her to the ground and pressed both hands hard against her rounded and commonly squishy gut, which for once did not seem to rock with the jolly heaves of her laughter. Though water threatened to blur and dribble out of her already slightly less than adequate vision, Fluttershy squeezed her finger’s against Pinkie’s full gut. Sobs shook her thin body as she panicked trying to imagine what to do, and her frantic breathing and shaking did nothing to help the bent-up girl at her fingertips (who was too stiff to lay out flat).

“H-Help me,” she managed to squeak out, her small lips hardly managing to form around the words. “Don’t do this, d-don’t do this to me! Pinkie, please… Someone… s-someone help me! Please! Help!”

Her cries seemed so quiet in the great open air, but far too loud to have ever been a conversation between a girl so near and herself. As her horrid sniveling grew worse, she tried for more calls, but floundered in speaking them and holding the volume high enough to be noticed. The only thing she could focus on was the ringing in her ears and the sight of her dear friend as she laid before her like some crumpled up piece of newspaper. Against her chapped lips, Fluttershy could make out gobs of dried bubbles of bile, and yet, the edges of her mouth were still creased with the well earned (and only just barely aged) wrinkles from her remarkable smile.

As her wide eyes darted between the spilled pills, she tried to remember any first aid training that could possibly help her at all. But from the bloating she felt on her friend’s body and the ice cold chill of her skin, she already knew it was too late. For an instant, it was as though time had stopped, and for Pinkie Pie (whose wrist read nothing but vacant circles, faded more than usual), it really had ended.

“I-I didn’t know whether to call the ambulance or the police, I wasn’t sure what happened,” Fluttershy recounted slowly as the scene was still fresh in her mind, her words stoic and repeated more than once. Her disoriented vision shifted over her shaking hands, which clutched an untouched cup of hot chocolate that had been provided for her. Her lips moved again, though, “I couldn’t believe it was real. Or that it had been… that she had…”

Still, she had trouble getting through that part, and shook her head to try and rattle the image away. A careful hand rested on her shoulder, but it did little to ease her anxiety. Staring down at her futile hands, and perhaps catching sight of a time to mark an end of her own, she swallowed nothing except maybe her instinct to begin sobbing again.

“I sat there with her until they arrived, for so long, in that horrible silence. Still, they said she had already been gone for hours,” more bitter words told of her day.

“That’s…” Nothing natural came in response to such news. Each considered word was forced, something unusual for the girl who spoke. Attempting to compose herself, her voice cracked upon being used, “How did you even know where she was?”

Surprisingly, Fluttershy managed to respond, after choking back a sob. “She texted me late the night before. She was always there anyway, at Golden Oaks park,” her soft voice spoke as she recalled the sight by its real name rather than their colloquial and informal name for it. “More often recently, considering the new zoning in the area, and the auctioning off of those plots of land. You know that bothered her, Twilight.”

Twilight blinked, her mind wandering with possibilities of what was said. “She texted you?”

A meek nod followed by a light hum bought Fluttershy a second to consider her words, hoping the implications didn’t pin her in a bad light. “Yes, I tend to ignore the messages she sends me late at night, as usually they’re just drunken rambles,” she said, clear hesitance in her voice as she fumbled with her mobile device. “Here it is.”

Twilight delicately wrapped her fingers around the phone, taking care not to damage the tiny device. It held the last words of one of her closest friends and briefly, Twilight considered leaving it up to her imagination. Those last words could ruin her, but as a curious woman, and as Pinkie’s friend, something forced her to turn the screen towards her violet eyes.

“Hey Flutters, I need you to come find me at the hill. Sorry it has to be you.”

Twilight couldn’t hold back a gulp; in hindsight, reading this text would bring dread to anyone. Pinkie Pie knew this would happen, and apologized in advance for the ever meek member of their circle to be the one to discover what she had done. Nobody had guessed or wagered or imagined that Pinkie Pie could be pushed to that limit. Pinkie lived life to its fullest, loved every fleeting moment… this was a betrayal of the Pinkie Pie that her dearest friends thought she was.

Twilight’s left wrist twitched, thinking about what Fluttershy saw. What she probably would have seen in her attempts to save the girl. Three sets of double zeros on the left wrist, that’s what it read after someone passed away, thought that too would inevitably fade. Instinctively, Twilight checked the time and blinked, unsure how to process the way it might have felt to see the numbers decreasing significantly, as Pinkie must have. Pinkie surely knew what her timer said, yet she willingly ran the clock right out. In fact, she stopped it herself, when she took all those pills and washed them away with poisons.

“Who else knows about this?” Twilight finally asked in a steady voice.

Fluttershy could only shake her head. With a glance, Twilight noticed the poor girl shivering violently. Twilight so badly wished it was the morning chill, but more than likely, it was not. Slowly, she extended a hand and placed it on Fluttershy’s shoulder. Her response was to let out a sob and take in a shaky, sharp breath.

“I’ll talk to the others,” Twilight gently spoke, patting the girl’s shoulder once.

Shuffling forward, Twilight wrapped her arms around Fluttershy while fighting the stiffness in her body. It was a robotic motion, but one she felt necessary, for them both. Somehow still, the embrace felt vile and false, it was just like all the squishy hugs that Pinkie Pie had tricked them with to hide her intent. Feeling Fluttershy’s moist tears seeping into the collar of her cardigan, Twilight once again had to remind herself of the truth of the situation.

“... Pinkie Pie is dead,” Twilight whispered to herself, feeling her chest tighten.

“I-I can’t believe th-this is happening,” Fluttershy whimpered into Twilight’s shoulder, her thin body entirely surrounded by her friend’s stiff arms.

“I know,” the spectacle adorning girl’s eyes softened as the lenses seemed to mist lightly, though perhaps that was from the rising heat of her breath catching on them. “We’ll get through it, we’ll find a way. I promise. It has to make sense, I’ll figure out why—”

“Figure out what?” Fluttershy asked in a frantic tone, her wet eyes shifting between Twilight’s. “Th-there’s no, there’s no logical—no explanation, n-no—”

“Hey, Twilight, that you?” another voice called towards them, and Twilight and Fluttershy both turned to acknowledge the girls. If it wasn’t clear from the raspy tone and loud shouts, it was Rainbow Dash who spoke (with Applejack close by her side), “What’s going on, why are there cops everywhere?”

“Rainbow Dash, you’re here.” Twilight released Fluttershy, who closed in on herself and looked at her feet as if she was too afraid to talk to Rainbow Dash at all.

“Yeah I’m here, but that’s not an answer. What, did Pinkie get caught with that confetti launcher again?” Rainbow suggested with a laugh, placing her hands on her hips as she looked around. As Applejack curiously and seriously observed the expressions painted across their friend’s faces, she already knew the answer to the question that Rainbow Dash posed next, “Where is that crazy slut, anyway?”

“Rainbow…” Twilight tried to lead her to the answer, but it seemed she did not have to.

Just then, the coroners decided it was time enough to carry the black bag back over to their vehicle. Rainbow Dash’s bright and adventurous eyes traced the zipped-up body bag they can concealed something within, and she could outline the same rolls of fat that Pinkie Pie was always poking fun at. As her eyebrows furrowed and her gaze narrowed on the sight, her head tilted just slightly to the left. Darting her attention back to Twilight and Fluttershy, who both looked away as if ashamed or afraid. Rainbow’s jaw dropped immediately, and her knowing finger pointed over to the body bag before directing back to the girls in front of her, and she repeated that motion a few times as she pieced it together.

“Wait… wait, wait wait. That’s not…?” the short haired girl tried to ask, but found the seriousness of the question too much to speak aloud.

“This morning, Pinkie Pie came all the way out here, with a bag full of…” Twilight started to explain, but had to stall to clear the lump out of her throat. Instead, she decided it was best to just state the facts, as was her specialty, “She committed suicide.”

“What?” She was taken aback by the knowledge, and her mouth hung ajar for a moment before her inherent attitude returned. “That’s ridiculous Twilight, why would Pinkie, of all people—?”

“Dash, I don’t think she’d be lyin’ ‘bout this,” Applejack told her, pressing her lips together and looking carefully up at Rainbow Dash as she removed her wide-brimmed hat respectfully. Knowing the girl better than anyone, she was right to anticipate an explosive response.

“Pinkie, she,” Rainbow tried to speak, her tongue sliding over her teeth like she debated shouting or growling. After a roll of her shoulders, something she did when she grew particularly furious, she nearly screamed, “That dirty bitch! What the hell was she thinking? How could she be so damn selfish?!”

“Honey, please don’t talk like that, I’m sure she had—” Applejack tried with a gentle voice, but Rainbow would not have it.

“Had what? A damn mental break? A fucking stroke of idiocy?! Didn’t she give a shit about any of us? Why didn’t she come to us, talk it out, why would she be such a damn drama queen about it all?!” she shouted, accentuating her rage with wild gestures. Fluttershy had to turn away and press her hand over her mouth to quiet the waves of sobs and cries that burst out of her. As Twilight carefully analysed Rainbow’s reaction like some psychologist, the subject in question ranted on, “Fucking jerk!”

“What’s all the yelling about?” someone else broke into the conversation, and her polite voice was replaced with something of panic. As she caught her breath upon reaching them and tousled her hair, she inquired, “Is everything okay?”

“Speaking of a drama queen, here comes the crowning monarch!” Rainbow announced, spreading her arms out as Rarity came into sight and joined the group.

“Um, pardon me?” she uneasily wondered, looking Rainbow up and down and keeping her distance, as everyone knew how volatile the girl could become.

“So, Rarity, guess who decided to finally do the rest of us a great big favour and off herself?” Rainbow Dash carelessly stated, a cheery smile contrasting her irate eyes, which flashed a fiery red. “That’s right, our very own frizzy-headed clown, Pinkie Pie!”

“You’re not serious?” Rarity’s voice cracked as she shrunk under the weight of the news. As her lips quivered and she shook her head, she denied it all, “Rainbow, that’s not very funny. Don’t even say such a thing.”

“It’s hilarious!” came another enraged shout, and Rainbow put her hand against her mouth as she yelled back at the body bag being not so carefully placed into the coroner’s vehicle. “Good prank, Pinkie, even in death you’re a fucking joke!”

“Rainbow, get over here,” Applejack growled as she roughly grabbed Rainbow’s arm and yanked her away from the others.

“What? Applejack, let me go,” she complained, pulling back in vain as she was tugged beneath a nearby skeletal tree (which neither of them cared to identify even though they'd seen it hundreds of times).

“Can’t you see that everyone else is really hurtin’ about all this?” the blonde softly asked, her bright green eyes begging Rainbow to show some compassion. “And it ain’t right t’ speak of the dead so bitter like, she was your friend.”

“The dead, is that what she is now?” Rainbow Dash spat, a frown tugging at her features as she fought off her emotions. “Everyone is going to canonize the bitch for this, but all she did was give up. She gave up on all of us, Applejack!”

“Some people ain’t so strong, honey,” Applejack murmured kindly, her hands slipping under Rainbow’s clenched knuckles and easily spreading them out to entwine with her own. “There’re all kinds of reasons people have for doin’ somethin’ like this, Dash. We all have a limit, we all have somethin’ that we can’t swallow.”

“She didn’t even tell us! That blabbermouth had to spring it on us like some stupid childish birthday party, it’s not fair.” Her eyes closed up tightly as she choked back some hiss or holler. Applejack just continued to stroke the girl’s hands with her thumbs, seeing the pain she tucked beneath bursts of rage.

“I know, honey.” Applejack’s sultry southern twang was always a comfort for the athletic girl, and she relaxed into everything about the girl which was so very soft and loving. “Just take a step back. All your other friends ‘re hurtin’ too, and you’re not doin’ much t’ help.”

“It’s just, like...” Rainbow blinked something out of her eye and stared up at the sky, watching the clouds fade back to greys and whites after their brief hues of the bright spectrum. Guilt seeped into her tone as she admitted, “It just feels like we didn’t know her at all.”

“Yea’, maybe,” Applejack muttered, taking a step further into Rainbow’s embrace and placing her head on the girl’s chest. As she gazed barely over Rainbow’s shoulder, she could see the still quite lost and terrified expression on Rarity’s face. “We shouldn’t leave ‘em alone.”

“You’re right,” Rainbow Dash whispered into Applejack’s hair, softly taking in a breath before placing a kiss on the crown of her head and pulling away. “Those kids are probably taking it pretty hard.”

With a knowing smile, Applejack ignored the obvious projection of Rainbow’s own emotional instability and nodded instead. Wrapping her arm around Rainbow’s and escorting her back to the group (which seemed necessary considering Rainbow was clearly embarrassed about her outburst), Applejack chewed her lip to try and think up something correct to say. The silence hung for a moment, as no one was sure if speaking at all was respectful. There was no longer a bubbling bundle of energy to chirp up and bring them back to conversation, so their hesitance lingered on.

“So, wait, I’m confused,” Rarity finally tried for words, and all eyes (be they narrowed, moist or puffy and red) fell on her. “Is Pinkie Pie alright? What was Rainbow Dash prattling on about?”

“W-Well, I-I got here, here early this m-morning,” Fluttershy struggled to spell it out once more, and though it was very clear that something horrible had happened, Rarity just kept hanging on her words like the outcome would change. “Pinkie… Pinkie Pie was, she was…”

“She passed away, last night,” Applejack was the one who cut in next, and her voice was very calm and compassionate. “I’m sorry, Rarity.”

Twilight looked over at the blonde girl curiously, noticing how she still had a good deal of composure left to speak of. Fluttershy was clearly a wreck already, Rainbow had nearly strangled Pinkie’s memory, and though Twilight herself strove to separate fact from feeling, she still felt an immense sadness keeping her own mouth shut. But someone had to be strong at a time like that, and though Twilight wanted it to be her, it looked like the only one who knew how to handle the situation was Applejack. Twilight pinned that attitude on her selfless compulsion to take care of others before herself, or perhaps the fact that she had so recently lost her grandmother, but both of those reasons seemed to do little but make Twilight almost pity the small girl (though she would hate to hear such a thing).

“She’s…? No, that can’t be right,” Rarity tried to force a laugh, but it came out in broken shards that sounded an awful lot like some predecessor to crying. “Not Pinkie Pie, there’s just no way.”

“I’m so sorry Rarity, but it’s true. Do you need t’ sit down?” Applejack asked kindly, touching Rarity on the shoulder and trying to get a good look at her pale expression.

“How… how did it happen?” she asked blankly, and as she looked up at the blonde girl who seemed to have the answers, everyone knew that all the time she had spent that morning on her make-up would prove futile.

“Well…” That particular answer was not fully known to the little belle, and she uneasily looked over at Twilight for the truth.

“An overdose. On medications and drugs, mostly over the counter or recreational.” Twilight second-guessed exposing that particular fact, as she knew that suicides could become a string quite easily. Shaking that idea off, she revealed, “It was suicide.”

“That’s preposterous. Pinkie Pie, of all people, would never,” Rarity tried to deny it once more, but from the sorrowful looks surrounding her, she knew she did not stand a chance. The realization dawned on her abruptly, and she felt as though she could not muster a breath to summon a sob. “It can’t be…”

“Rarity, you should—” Applejack attempted to get her to sit down, but she was interrupted by the dignified young woman slapping a hand over her mouth and sprinting between herself and Twilight towards some old tree.

As Rarity reached the thick wooden trunk, she swung around behind it and doubled-over with a gasp. Though her actions were hidden by the foliage, her friends could tell from the coughing sounds that she was quite physically sickened by the whole situation. Twilight closed her eyes solemnly as she recalled the last time she had seen Rarity in such the same condition, which would have been several years ago, when Rarity had struggled with bulimia (something that Pinkie Pie’s upbeat spirit and constant praises of optimism had helped her overcome).

The vicious repulsion her body had experienced finally stopped, although the dizziness and disorientation remained. Rarity reached a shaky hand out and pressed it against the damp and rigid bark of the nearby tree for support, taking a moment to touch at her lips to be certain no traces were left. As her trembling fingers traced smoother, rounded edges of the trunk, Rarity found herself outlining them. She stood back up, carefully and timidly peering over at the grooves and markings she had placed her hand upon for support. Beneath her slender digits (which were decorated as always with shades of violet and baby blue), Rarity could make out the juvenile carving of adolescent infatuation that still read P.P and C.S (the initials of a boy Pinkie Pie had a crush on many years ago), encircled by a lop-sided heart.

Rarity shoved off the tree at once, staring at the worn old markings that Pinkie Pie had left in the bark (which Fluttershy had scolded her at the time for making at all). It had been something Rainbow Dash had teased her for, something that Rarity had loved to gossip about, and Twilight had always told her was a silly crush. Suddenly, though the whole idea seemed trivial and insignificant, it haunted the fashion favouring dame. She stumbled away from the faintly leaning tree and nearly tumbled back into the reaches of her friends, pressing a cold hand against her face.

“No, please no,” Rarity whimpered quietly, shaking her head back and forth even if it made her more dizzy. “This is… this is the… the…”

She could even imagine finishing what she was about to say, and instead fell to her knees right in front of her dearest remaining friends. As if her body was wrought once more by emotion, her loud sobs broke out in harsh intervals, and her breathing chased the abundant air around her trying to keep up with her miserable cries. Seeing such a display, Fluttershy, too, began to break into open wails, though she pressed her sleeves against her mouth to keep quiet.

Rainbow Dash ran her tongue over her lower lip and shoved her hands into her pockets, something she did when she was clearly uncomfortable. She was never the most sensitive girl, so she was uncertain what to say or do when confronted with their grief. Instead, she pretended to be preoccupied in her own mind, glancing off into the direction from which they had come and to which Pinkie had been carried off. Watching the remaining civil servants depart (and put up some cautionary tape around the perimeter for the time being), Rainbow frowned. She wondered if perhaps any of Pinkie’s actions could stall the new development plans, but that was doubtful indeed.

Alongside the caution tape, she could spot a figure sporting a pink head of hair approaching at an indeterminately slow pace. Pretending not to see, Rainbow averted her eyes and studied the still blades of grass parting beneath her crookedly angled feet. Instead of bothering to fix them, she frowned deeper into the turned up collar of her jacket, dreading the moment that the young boy would inevitably reach them. She knew that if he couldn’t even accept the impact that mortality had on his own life (or even admit that he had acquired the gauge of it), he would drown in the imminent reality of this incident. Hissing a clear breath of white condensation, Rainbow’s eyebrows clenched together to imagine how the rebellious boy might respond.

“Spike,” Twilight called to him, extending her hand out. There was clearly no way that Spike had heard her, but he seemed to vaguely notice that she was reaching to him. “H-hey.” Once again, she spoke as if he were right there, her voice hardly strong enough to escape their intimate gathering.

It took a little longer that it usually might have, but eventually Spike reached the group, nodding his head constantly. Several eyes landed on him a if he had brought something along that could distract them, but instead, he absently dragged his gaze over the familiar area. Something, he could tell, was definitely amiss, but he was less than adequately equipped with the sober focus to piece it together (something that he had inflicted upon himself with irresponsible habits, it seemed).

“What’s up, bitches?” he gurgled slowly, enunciating his words like he was afraid they’d fall apart once they breached his lips.

Caught off guard by the title, Twilight could only mouth his name oddly, and her tongue smacked from the motion. While the rest of his friends (who rarely responded to such a vulgar title anyway, save perhaps for Rainbow or Pinkie) gaped or cringed at his rudeness, there was no other response. Glancing behind him towards the blinking lights that retreated in the distance, he teetered from one foot to the other. Finally, after nervously trying to reason why he was ostracized, he leaned in close towards Rainbow’s ears.

“Jeez, who died?” Spike murmured obliviously, giggling stupidly at the prospect.

Spike could hear a light gasp come from someone (as he had not been as hushed in his tone as he had imagined) and there was a lack of the typical Rainbow Dash humour he often relied on to take the spotlight. Frowning, he looked right at the short-haired girl next to him. Her teeth clenched irritably together as she met eyelines with the boy, whose half-lidded gaze and wide pupils gave her some indication of his condition. Before Spike could inquire about her expression, a hard, painful slap to the back of his head almost knocked him over.

“Fucking stoner,” Rainbow Dash muttered as she dug her hands into the seams at the bottoms of her pockets and inched right up against Applejack.

Rarity began sobbing once more, her loud cries forcing her usually politely restricted lips to open wide and her always clean hands to dig into the cold weeds. The unnatural lack of attention to her physical appearance gave Spike an uneasy feeling in his gut. More telltale signs stood out as he looked at the others: Fluttershy shivering violently as she remain burrowed in her own sleeves; Applejack’s trademark hat remained at her side, her gaze directed to the sky; Twilight’s widened eyes, staring at the base of the tree while her fingers tapped at her arms (which always told that something was wrong).

Usually there would have hardly been a reaction to such a common and clearly joking statement, but this time there was, and that terrified him. Spike’s mouth hung slightly and his breath quickened as he started to panic. His eyes darted around, looking at all of his friends once more. Repeatedly, he counted them. One, two, three, four, five. A short pause, then again; one, two, three, four, five. He only counted five.

“Five. There are five of you. Where’s six?” Spike asked, his breath starting to come in short intervals. Already, Rainbow could spot the brat patting his coat for a lighter and cigarette. Rather than wait, Spike spoked up again, “Don’t screw with me, where is she? The sixth, where’s she at? Where is she?” He paused to gulp once and as Twilight turned towards him, he locked his gaze on her. “I counted, I counted you. One, two, three, four, five. I count five of you. There should be six. So, where is she? Where’s six? Where’s Pinkie Pie?”

“Fuck if I know, she didn’t tell us shit,” Rainbow spat out aggressively.

Spike took a step away from Rainbow, but he didn’t know why. She was mad, but Rainbow not being mad would have been strange. She seemed more unpredictable than normal, and something about her had Spike quite physically troubled. His fumbled discretion caused him to drop a rolled sliver of cannabis onto the grass below and into plain sight. After briefly glancing down at his fallen recreational accomplice, Spike and Twilight met gazes.

Twilight continued to observe the young boy, though her face contorted out of curiosity into disapproval and disgust. Faster than she could realize, Spike’s face warped, scrunching up as he bared his teeth. He took an aggressive step forward which sent a chill down Twilight’s spine.

“You answer me! Tell me right now, Twilight!” Spike shouted in a repressed voice, as he struggled against the choking in his throat. “I know that you know, that you’re hiding something from me, something is going on and I need to know. Where is Pinkie? Don’t you think that because you’re smart, you can lie to—” he was interrupted by the need to hack up some gob of phlegm or saliva, which he spat into the grass. “No more bullshit. Where is Pinkie Pie?”

Though her reluctance to speak should have been answer enough, Spike naively clutched onto any sliver of hope. Applejack seemed ready to break the news to the kid, but she paused as she noticed the firm and determined expression on Rainbow Dash’s face. The two of them had been childhood friends, and it only seemed right that she be the one to break it to him. That is, if she could get over her anger long enough to put it easily for him. Instead, she fell back on her normal brash and careless attitude.

“Well, she’s probably about half way to the morgue by now,” Rainbow Dash told him with a shrug, flexing and clenching her hands in her pockets out of sight. She couldn’t shake the urge to get physical, but she could repress it well enough that perhaps only Spike and Applejack even noticed.

“The… morgue?” Spike repeated the word as if it was in another language, and his lips struggled to pronounce it correctly. “What’s she doing there?”

“Probably laying cold in a damn body bag with her big clown feet and toe-tag sticking out one end, what do you think?” the short haired girl barked back, and Spike shrunk under the reality he faced. “It’s not like the coroner is some eccentric party host that frizz-head met at a rave. Pinkie Pie is dead, dude. She’s dead.”

With an uneasy and nervous expression, Spike measured the weight of Rainbow’s words as if he would find some humour hidden in their syllables. Finding nothing but a hint of spite and hurt, he understood that his good friend was not lying to him at all. The waving haze over his eyes (caused by the way he overindulged in a particular illegal habit that very morning) drifted back and forth with his slightly swaying body, and he wasn’t certain if it was the THC or the news that had him feeling like he was about to pass right out.

“She’s dead,” Spike repeated blankly, his lips and cheeks seeming particularly puffed out from the way he shrunk against the collar of his jacket and lowered his chin. “But I just saw her yesterday?”

“How long do you think it takes to die?” Rainbow Dash aggressively posed, making a face at the ignorance Spike presented.

“Do her parents know yet?” Applejack wondered, changing the subject before Rainbow started yelling at the poor distracted kid.

“They’re on their way to see the body now,” Twilight tried to sound helpful, but her notion that Pinkie’s name was no longer worth mention sent Rarity into deeper weeps.

“The body...” Fluttershy meekly repeated, her own sobs creeping up her throat and being swallowed back like she was sick on them.

“Yes, well,” Twilight tried to stick on a more rational topic, or else she might have crumbled herself. “I imagine there will be a funeral ceremony quite imminently, so try to keep your schedules open.”

“Not like that’s what she wanted,” Rainbow Dash remarked in a grumble, looking away from her friends and glaring at some weed in the hard dirt.

“... She’s dead,” Spike repeated once more, and it seemed more fictitious the more often he said it.

Skyward was the only place Spike could find comfort. There were no police or taped lines of any sort to remind him of what he still struggled to believe at all. A picturesque deep ocean of blue with an a few clouds, that was what seemed more comforting than eyes he dared not meet. Even with his glossy gaze locked onto the heavens, Spike still found himself kneeling down and sweeping his fingers through the blades of glass in hopes that his blunt still laid in one piece.

The cold, nearly frozen ground beneath their feet felt so impenetrably solid, even when bearing the weight of all their solemn gazes. And yet, a mere few days or so later (none of them cared to measure precisely what distance of time passed), they stood above a grave so freshly pulled open, so deep and well dug that it seemed it was carved out of salted butter. And all the more salted it became, it seemed, as the interminable whimpering of few dear friends fell around the wide, gaping obstruction in the otherwise flat Earth (though it was speckled with erect stones reciting names and years and signs of erosion, which ate away at the rock slower than any bundle of bones buried out of sight). There was, however, no hardy block to denote quite what would soon lay beneath the frostbitten soil so freshly removed, as hard times had caused the grief stricken family to settle for a plywood sign with a scribbled name, stabbed above the hole like the marker of some crop too freshly planted to identify by bud or stem.

A member of some congregation (that the gathered few could barely hope to label) stood before them, his thin and cracked lips speaking barren words that never would have been spoken about the girl who now could not prove it so. Passages from a book that the young girl hadn’t read were recited over the small, cheap box she was placed in, accompanying irrelevant numbers that probably marked pages the man had folded the corners down on so that he might find them again for the previous young loss, or the next.

Six roses laid at the head of the grave, which had ample space for them, given that the hole was not quite regular length. It hadn’t needed to be, since the box (which almost looked like some crate used for shipping products overseas) that bore what remained of a jubilant young girl was so much less sizable than seemed right. As the wind kicked at the loose pedals, turning a rose or two over on the small resting pile, one restless onlooker pressed the tip of her index finger roughly with her thumb. There was a small, somewhat painful prick on the tip of her finger, which she had carelessly received when she was fidgeting with the rose she had placed by the grave. She would be distracted from her burdensome act by a young boy, though.

“Why is the coffin so small?” Spike inquired in a whisper, which went somewhat unheard beneath the echoing sobs of Rarity (even though they were stifled by an embroidered handkerchief).

“Dude, be quiet,” Rainbow harshly hushed back. She waited until the cries grew a bit louder to actually respond, “It’s because they couldn’t afford a real one. They got her cremated first, to save space or something.”

“That seems like a lot of work.” The boy eyed the splintered wooden box uneasily, swishing the smokey saliva in his mouth like he wanted to spit it out.

“They must really want to bury her, hide her in the ground,” Rainbow Dash grumbled as if it offended her, and she tried to think up a reasonable excuse, “Traditionalists, maybe.”

“Nothing about this seems traditional,” Spike remarked quietly, noting that all of Pinkie Pie’s immediate family stood still as statues by her grave, shedding no tear nor uttering a loving word.

With a slow nod, Rainbow Dash agreed with the sentiment. A hand roughly grabbing her own stopped her from grinding her fingers together, and Rainbow looked down at the connection promptly. She recognized the freckled knuckles of her dearest friend immediately, although the black colour of her cardigan over her modest midnight dress was still strange to see rather than the cuffs of some button-up long-sleeve. Though her palm was warm, it was hardly any consolation to Rainbow’s pinkish fingers in the frigid air.

"Do any family members have anything to say on her behalf?” the statement woke any bystanders out of their respective, drifting thoughts (most of which were imagining familiar encounters with the deceased and wondering what value they had to her or cursing themselves for selfishly tuning out her eulogy).

Though Pinkie Pie’s immediate family had mostly shown up for the ceremony, and all stood dutifully in a line by the grave, none stepped forward to speak. In the absence of an adequate response, all that remained was a crisp whistle of wind in the barren trees. It was far too solemn to bear, when after a brief clearing of her throat to test the silence, Applejack stepped towards the head of the grave.

"AJ, what are you–?" Rainbow Dash tried to stall her, but the blonde girl was out of her reach too quickly and she had promised Applejack earlier that she would try not to make a scene.

"Well," Applejack started with some fragment of confidence, putting aside her mild discomfort when speaking in front of a crowd. "I reckon somebody should say somethin' first. Might as well be me, seein' as how she's my cousin and all."

She paused, giving no response to the scrunched up and incredulous questioning expression that Rainbow Dash gave her from across the grave, and looked compassionately down at the small box which stowed the girl's ashes. A brush of her teeth against her plump lower lip cracked the seal of her words and made way for some sentiment. At first it was a thoughtless motion of her mouth, but soon enough she was heard.

“I'd known Pinkie Pie for for quite some time, most of my whole life I’d reckon. I remember back when we were kids, she used to get picked on real bad about her big silly feet. Even then, she always laughed about it herself, sayin’ she was proud of them, ‘cause it made her more unique than most folks. Well, as long as any of us had known her, I bet anyone would say that if nothin’ else, she always knew how t’ make us laugh. And y’know, I think I speak for all of us when I say... we’ve never needed those big ol’ stompers and that special talent any more than we do right now.”

Taking a moment to breathe, Applejack let her jaw hang as if she was going to continue, only for nothing to come out. Her lips pushed together thoughtfully, but finally she realized that there was nothing more she had to say but that. With a solemn nod, Applejack took a slow step backwards before walking away from the centre of attention. There was a space left in her absence, once which every other of Pinkie’s companions were hesitant to fill.

As Applejack returned to Rainbow Dash’s side, she was greeted not with any consolation, but rather with a casual question, "Dude, Pinkie was your cousin?"

"Yea', how do you think she got here?" Applejack responded with a raised eyebrow, surprised that her girlfriend knew so little of her family.

Rainbow paused, a surprised expression turning pale as her lip contorted into a perplexed sneer on one side, "Like, in the grave?"

"What?” Applejack was taken aback by the accusation, but hurriedly corrected the misconception, “No, in our school, she lived in another district y’know."

"I understand some of Pinkie Pie’s closest friends have composed a few words?" another prompt was provided, but the only immediate response seemed to be uneasy shifting eyes and nervous fidgeting.

Expectantly, the attention settled on Twilight Sparkle, who had astutely written out a speech for the girl’s funeral. However, as she reluctantly hid behind the veil of her bangs (which had lately grown too long, but Twilight had been too busy with school work to have gotten cut precisely on schedule as she usually did), she realized that she was not prepared to have read it out loud. Squeezing the rolled sheet of paper in her palm, Twilight ducked her head out of the running and slunked behind her formerly much more meek friend, Fluttershy. With Rarity still hardly controlling her waves of sobs, Fluttershy shaking under any perceived pressure at all, and Spike seeming completely disinterested in the ceremony at all, that left only one candidate.

"... Well if no one else is going to do it," Rainbow Dash’s raspy voice abraded the silence of the cemetery, and her thick-soled shoes crunched the frosted weeds as she stormed up to the head of the grave.

Once reaching her platform, Rainbow Dash shifted uncomfortably, her eyes tracing the edges of the freshly dug grave as if it was carved thousands of feet into the ground and was about to swallow her whole. She had hardly prepared, as that was always her style, but while usually she jumped at a challenge, she was bothered and stalled by that particular instance. As she looked over at the familiar faces of her dear friends, she realized quite how small they all looked, quite how much they needed the colour in Pinkie Pie’s bubbly cheeks.

Scoffing stubbornly at the prospect, Rainbow Dash tried to think up something at least half decent to say at the looming solemnity. What she really wanted to do? Shout out her frustrations, curse the girl’s name, grab a shovel and start roughly filling in the gaping hole that Pinkie Pie had scarred. But instead, she made her most valiant attempt to keep her cool, and charmingly adorned a smirk while she flipped a nonchalant hand through her short, falsely portrayed hair.

A few words tumbled out of her clumsy mouth before she cared to sift them fine, “Pinkie was quite the little harlot, that’s for damn sure. Everyone knew that tramp.”

“Rainbow,” Applejack hushed a warning, her serious stare doing the job of grabbing Rainbow by the collar and setting her straight, so to speak.

“R-Right, well,” she tried again, clearing her throat as though her blonde friend had really squeezed the poorly folded white dress shirt around her neck. Though Rainbow Dash could hear Spike sniggering behind the jagged thumbnail he had been nibbling on, she continued, “As crazy as she was, she was one of our closest friends. One thing we always appreciated about her was the way she could talk us through any dumb problem we thought we had. She was someone we trusted… trusted, to…”

Her expression changed suddenly, and those who knew her long enough knew to anticipate her fluctuating moods. But that shift was unexpected, and a vertical crease appeared between her brows, signifying the dangerous thoughts she tried to pin inside her head. They would not stay there, however, and following a sharp hiss, she spoke her mind.

“We trusted her, like idiots. We thought that stupid dopey look on her face all the time was innocence, was happiness, was no lie or false conception. But she was the one who needed us, or who, who should have… should have said something, instead of being that selfish, thoughtless bitch that just up and quit on us. Fucking quit on us.” Rainbow Dash nearly choked it seemed, and her fingers twitched into and away from her palm as she tried to gather her emotions back.

“That’s enough,” Applejack tried to interject, hurrying to the volatile young woman’s side and reaching out, but Rainbow evaded her comfort.

“I’m glad she’s gone! We don’t need that shitty attitude, that fake smile, that suicidal coward!” her voice raised over the sound of the wind biting at her exposed ears. “You hear me, Bigfoot?! You hear me down there? You told us that you never wanted to be buried after you died, but guess what? These bastards are gonna put you in the ground, where you can just lie there like a goddamn lazy whore--no more dancing for you!”

“Okay, okay, you’ve said penty,” the smaller girl managed to touch her friend’s face long enough to direct her gaze away from the pit in the ground and to meet her eyeline. Making a questioning face, Applejack silently asked if Rainbow Dash was alright, to which a response was hardly necessary. “C’mon now honey.”

“Hey, quit shoving me!” Rainbow barked at her most trusted friend, who said nothing in response but continued to try and direct her away. “I’m not done, this is the last time I get to yell at that brat, she won’t be able to hear me from six feet under!”

“Dash, you know it ain’t right t’ be talkin’ like that, say your goodbyes and lets take a walk, ‘kay?” her soft voice was so soothing that Rainbow could have probably curled up in her arms and fallen asleep, but she stubbornly fought that urge.

Standing there uneasily over the seemingly endless grave of a dear friend (and all uncomfortably bundled up in a misfitted black suit and loose tie she had re-tied six times over until she was satisfied with the hang), Rainbow Dash scowled, cursing the frizzy-haired girl for having forced her into such a situation. With a swift swing, Rainbow kicked a rain of dirt down into the hole, hissing some frustrated noise before turning abruptly and walking off.

“Whatever,” she mumbled after her, waving over her shoulder as Applejack kept on her heel.

Spike (who was, by then, laughing quite hysterically despite everyone else’s bewildered expressions), found it in his best interest to follow his childhood friend. After all, the funeral wouldn’t be half as interesting with her absence. He managed to catch up to the two girls by the single lane road which circled the graveyard, where several vehicles were still parked. One such vehicle, which stood out quite prominently due to the brilliant blue paintjob, belonged to Rainbow Dash herself.

As Spike approached them, he realized that he had gone unnoticed (a fact which, due to having smoked a fair amount of his poor quality marijuana, had him convinced for an instant that he had turned invisible), and stalled in his step a few paces away. Dipping slightly behind a misshapen tree, Spike curiously watched their interchange. Rainbow Dash appeared to be very upset, and though it could prove dangerous to be so near to her while she was in such a mood, Applejack never wavered.

“Rainbow, honey, I know you feel all knotted up about this,” Applejack calmly spoke, her small fingers tracing Rainbow’s defined jawline. “But we’re gonna get through it. I promise ya that. If y’need somebody t’ blow on up at, y’all can shout at me. Scarin’ all your friends at this place? It ain’t gonna fix nothin’.”

“I know that,” she grumbled back, trying to avoid the glorious green eyes that always made her melt. “It’s just… this whole funeral thing sucks. Trying to say nice things about a girl who just abandoned all of us, having to listen to all this garbage about eternal life or whatever, it’s depressing and dumb. Besides, she never even wanted to be buried anyway. That pink pompom was a free spirit, she’d hate to be cooped up in the dirt. Anyway…”

“I understand,” Applejack murmured against Rainbow’s ear, leaning in for a soft embrace. As their bodies parted, Applejack placed a fond kiss on her silky lips. “Head on home and get some rest, okay?”

“Yeah, all right,” Rainbow grumbled, her narrowed eyes firmly set on the crease-line of graveyard dust that clung to her pant leg and snuggled into the crook between her laces.

With a sudden movement, Rainbow tore open her car door and plopped inside, slamming it shut behind her immediately. As the two blew kisses to each other (a tradition they shared whenever parting), Rainbow shifted her car into reverse and raced out of her spot.

Applejack sighed slowly, watching the sleek old vehicle slide into the distance, lightly treading over the edges of the road and knocking some loose dirt into the air. Hearing a quiet shuffle, Applejack casually peered over her shoulder and spotted Spike leaning against a tree and trying to make any proper noise with his mouth. Putting on a smile, the blonde strode past the younger yet remarkably taller boy, pausing only to pat him once firmly on the shoulder.

With a solemn gaze (or the best a stoner could manage), Spike watched Applejack recede back to the dismal cluster of his once jubilant friends, who were still regaining their composure after having the pleasure of seeing Rainbow’s outburst just moments prior. Resting his head on the tree, he let his mind wander to the fateful revelation days prior. The memory alone scratched a scowl into Spike’s face and suddenly, he found himself wishing to be anywhere but the crowd of what seemed like strangers mourning just off in the distance.

“Weeping over that pink haired spaz,” he spat out through puzzled teeth, and even he thought that it sounded more like something Rainbow would have said. With a click of his tongue, he tilted his head down and glanced at the group in question. With the effects of his particular frowned-upon habit in full swing, the journey seemed so much longer, so much further.

Each of the figures in black seemed like silhouettes; they weren’t quite people, but shadows cast by each tombstone, a stark contrast to the green grass and bright, crisp morning. Voices, so distant and despairing, whispered through the cemetery like rodents or serpents scuttering and sifting between the gaps of grass and grave until they passed Spike’s cold feet. His heels and toes were like ice, slippery and dead where his sole touched the dry dirt between dancing roots.

Too rattled to have stood against it (even if he had been emptied of his grief and stuffed up with straw like a scarecrow and propped upright), the young boy shakily slid down the bark of the tree until he was rested at the trunk. Spike happily welcomed the frosted grass thawing beneath his rear, and could feel the cold wetness inside the sweaty suit he had borrowed from his father.

Before he knew it, Spike found himself pulling his legs close to his chest, the rumble in his stomach doing nothing to sweeten the sour feeling. Though eternity felt still, thoughts raced to and from his distracted mind. Yet the anchor which kept him locked inside his clammy body (even as he was pulled from his seat and into some much more comfortable vehicle), was the inescapable truth that the rest of his life would go on without such a brightly shining star as Pinkie Pie had always seemed.

Every time he closed his eyes, he would see a series of black zeroes pasted over pale white flesh. Was it Pinkie’s wrist? Was he picturing those same numbers on the wrist of someone else? Was it his own chubby appendages, the very ones he had seemed to have been staring at for hours?

“Spike” was the first sound he heard as his earbuds were torn out of their resting place in his ears, and it took him a spell too long to realize it was his name that had been spoken.

His green eyes flashed up from under the weeping locks of his boisterously coloured hair, and he curiously stared at the girl standing before him. He had hardly noticed walking into his home, or the fact that Twilight had followed him into his house and (after spending a good deal of time talking to his parents about the funeral to buy him some time to sober up) watched him sit idly at his black computer monitor for what must have been an hour. Suddenly though, the world seemed to have colour again, and it startled him with how awake he had become.

“What? Sorry, I was thinking,” he made up what was hardly an excuse, and Twilight pressed her lips together until they wrinkled in a disbelieving manner.

“Zoning out, more like it. Are you still… high, or something?” she asked uneasily, and the words sounded foreign from her mouth. “I was talking to you.”

“No, I…” He couldn’t lie to her. “Yeah, I’m just coming down. Why are you still here?”

“You seemed really distant, all day. I thought you might want some company, and, honestly...” Twilight seemed moodier than usual, her still moist eyes turning away from the boy as her feminine voice creaked like an unused pantry door, “I didn’t really want to be alone, myself.”

“I don’t want to talk, I’m fine,” he argued in a much more adamant voice than he might have actually meant, but even so, Twilight did not seem to take it. “Look, I’m not going to sugar coat this. People die all the time, Twilight. We’re all just ticking away, what’s the use in getting all upset about it?”

“... Is that how you really feel? Or is that just what you want to feel?” she inquired weakly, and Spike hesitated to answer.

“I don’t know. Maybe.” He shrugged himself lower into his chair (which sagged from use and always caught on one wheel when he tried to push it around). “I’d rather die young than spend all my time worrying, only to waste away trying to hold onto every minute and every memory as they slip through my fingers. I’m kind of clumsy, I’m going to drop it all anyway.”

“Is that what this dangerous, careless act is about?” came another question, and as she leaned against his desk, she subtly asked, “You got your Stopwatch, didn’t you?”

“That’s none of your business,” he snapped and turned away, flicking his computer on and waiting impatiently as it started up.

“Spike, it’s okay to be upset, it’s perfectly normal. Nobody has it figured out yet, and with what happened to Pinkie Pie, this is a time to be with friends, not a time to push us away,” Twilight tried to tell him, but it didn’t seem to sink in. “Teenage suicides have a devastating effect on those close, and I’m afraid—”

“Just stop talking about it already,” his voice jumped up the same as he did, and Twilight flinched at the sudden movement. She had never been afraid of Spike, but something about him in that moment nearly broke her heart (be it the despondency in his normally chipper and boyish voice, or perhaps the way his once pudgy fists now shook and defined his jagged knuckles). “Just be done with it. Pinkie Pie is dead, gone, hollow, and buried. Just like we all will be. She’s out of our lives, and she’s never coming back.”

A small clack against Spike’s bedroom window stalled them both silent. Hushed by the unspoken question of what it might have been, the two waited for a following echo, which came mere seconds later. Sucking at his teeth, Spike slunk over to the pane of glass and pushed the curtains to one side. At first, due to the dimming daylight, he could hardly see a thing. But as some familiar headlights still ran on (catching upon the few falling flakes of snow which snuck ahead of their season), Spike noticed the slender silhouette of a dear friend.

“Is that Rainbow Dash?” Twilight spoke his mind as she, too, peered out over his back yard.

“I wish it wasn’t,” he murmured, rolling his eyes as he let the curtain fall mostly back into place. “I better go down there before my parents see.”

“Does she always show up like this?” she wondered as she followed him quietly out his bedroom door and down the stairs.

“Unfortunately,” Spike whispered, slipping around the railings towards the back door, keeping an eye out for his parents as it was still too early for them to have gone to bed quite yet.

After doing a quick reconnaissance of the back hall, Spike unlocked the deadbolt on his rear door and slowly pulled it open. Twilight and he leaned curiously out from behind the door as it swayed on its hinges, revealing a sight most haunting. Though it was no surprise for Rainbow Dash to have just suddenly dropped in on him (despite his parents always shooing her away and complaining about her influence), that particular evening proved very different. Even if Spike had not already been trying to keep quiet as to not get in trouble, he was stunned silent by the sight of his childhood friend.

Stepping out from the tar-like evening shadows spilling from the weatherproofing, Rainbow Dash’s once professionally pressed blazer appeared rolled up at the sleeves and slumped over her mud hand-printed button-up. Catching the glimmer of amaranth in her eyes (beneath the smears and smudges of dirt along her cheeks and jawline and from under the drowsy fall of her mussed and dusted hair), Spike’s jaw slammed against the merely decorative doormat. Held casually in her small, pinkish fingers (and propped crooked against her shoulder) was the recently uncovered urn that bore Pinkie Pie’s ashes.

Author's Note

There we have it folks, the much anticipated Tragedy tag, or, perhaps the beginning of it...
Anyway, sorry about the hiatus, the girlfriend is taking up most of my time, also getting promoted at work and all that good stuff. But, I am trying to keep updating on here, so... watch out.