***

"In This Last of Meeting Places"

“Rainbow Dash, what on Earth is that?” Twilight Sparkle carefully inquired, her incredulous eyes sifting slowly from her company's to what she held in her dirtied arm.

“It's an urn, egghead.” Rainbow bounced the object nonchalantly in her arm as if she didn't care if she dropped it, though both Spike and Twilight twitched as if to reach out and catch it if she had. “Ever seen a flower vase? Kinda like that, except instead of dead botany, it holds dead bodies.”

“That's not what I—” Twilight was about to scold her for her bluntness, but she sucked on her teeth and retained a cool head before asking again. “I mean, is it... is it empty? Or...?”

“Nope, it's our good friend Pinkie Pie. Catch!” With a sudden jerk, Rainbow Dash appeared to toss the vase directly at Spike (who merely flinched and cowered behind his hands, having no idea what else to do), which turned out to be a feign as she started cackling instead and slapped the container. “Crushed it. High five, Pinkie!”

“You can't be serious,” Spike asked with a shallow breath, his wide eyes examining the vessel for their dearly departed friend.

“As a sailor with scurvy, Che,” she admitted with a hollow smirk and a hauntingly cavalier air about her. “But instead of orange juice (you know I've never been a fan), how's about I crack open one of those beers I left downstairs, and I get you two to play spin the urn?”

“Goddamn it Rainbow, my parents are right down the hall, what are you even saying?” Spike whined nervously, keeping his voice to a very shrill whisper.

“Uh, I'm wing-manning you, polka-dot dick, what do you think?” she wondered in a ridiculous sounding tone, leaning over to Twilight to explain something, “He's got a freckle on the head of his—”

“I really don't want to know,” the mild-natured girl shrunk away from such a topic and pushed her glasses up on her nose instead. “So, what, you snuck out after the funeral and went grave-robbing, is that it?”

“Well it was hardly robbing, I fully intend to give the urn back, after we finish with the ashes,” she explained matter-of-factly as though it had been a blue-printed plan they had all scrawled together earlier.

“The ashes? What are you going to do with the ashes?” Twilight almost frantically spoke, afraid to know the answer to that question.

“Not bake them into brownies if that's where your weed-saturated mind was going,” Rainbow directed the attention back to Spike with a quick quip before carrying on. “I thought we all needed a chance to really give the crazy coot the old send-off. You know?”

“No, I don't know, and can you keep it down? My parent's are—!” Spike tried to tell her, but it was too late.

“Spike? Who are you talking to?” an older female's voice drifted from the living room calmly, but it startled Spike so much he nearly yelped.

“Just Twilight, mom!” the nervous young boy managed to cry out, though he could hardly even convince himself of that lie. “Look, Dash, you gotta get out of here. If my parents see you—or that—they'll kill me!”

“What? No way, I'm not dragging this back to my place, I don't want her spilling her soot all over the old '72. I just refurbished the seats.” Rainbow defiantly puffed out her bottom lip and glowered at the younger boy.

“Why do you sound so flustered?” Spike's mother's voice called out again, and it sounded as though she had moved. “Did you break something?”

“No!” Spike sounded offended by the remark, but hurriedly carried on with his conversation. “My parents smell bullshit a mile away, you gotta—!”

“It's your problem now,” Rainbow hummed as she lightly tossed the urn into the less-than-expectant Twilight Sparkle's hands, before dodging around the pair and standing a good deal out of reach for Twilight (especially considering the girl had no confidence when it came to her lack of throwing ability).

“Is everything okay?” Spike's mother sounded closer that time, and her son gulped nervously as he looked around for a place to stash the object.

“I'm going to guess you hid my beer in your closet, I'll help myself.” Rainbow tossed a two-fingered salute their way before ducking down one hall and silently slipping out of sight.

“Come back, you—!” he started to shout after her, but silenced himself as she got out of earshot. “Damn it, we have to hide that—er, her... whatever!”

Scurrying around the hall, Spike looked on the shoe rack, behind the ficus, he even almost tried to see if it would fit in the light fixture. However, finding no where that proved adequate, Spike gestured for Twilight to sneak out the back door, but it was too late. As Spike’s mother rounded the corner from the living room, Twilight jumped to face her and hurriedly stashed the urn behind her back.

“Oh, um, hello. Having a nice quiet night in? Yes, I was thinking of doing the same,” Twilight started rambling almost too quickly to be coherent. Slinking and side-stepping towards to front stairs, Twilight kept firm hold of the urn she hid behind her back. “I was just about to leave—I have so much homework! I think I left some in your room, Spike.”

“Homework? I thought that you kids would get a break, after everything that happened,” Spike’s mother sounded sympathetic as she looked over at her son. Her expression settled to more suspicious though, “Or have you just been skipping out?”

“No, mom! I swear,” Spike defended himself in a nervous voice.

“Because using your friend’s untimely death as an excuse to cut classes is just disrespectful!” she continued with a shaming wag of her finger, but Twilight’s attention would be directed elsewhere.

“Psst! Up here!” Rainbow Dash’s hushed voice alerted Twilight to her position up on the stairs and out of sight, and the young girl held up Twilight’s bookbag for her to spy. “Give me Pinkie!”

“Don’t call it that, it’s creepy,” Twilight whispered back defiantly, but shut up when Spike’s mother looked over at her. “I mean, death is such a harsh word, don’t you think?”

“Twilight has just been hitting the books to keep her mind occupied—she’s really torn up about it, as you can see,” Spike tried to direct the attention back to himself, though Twilight had half a mind to snap at him for making her seem so emotional.

“Going to pass her or what?” Rainbow’s voice wondered once more, and she opened her hands to catch the aforementioned item.

“Maybe you should follow her lead, spending a bit of time being productive couldn’t hurt,” his mother responded as (behind her back) Twilight frantically passed the urn over the banister and into Rainbow’s eager hands.

“Just keep her hidden until tomorrow, got it?” Rainbow Dash quietly relayed her instructions as she slipped the oblong object into the furthest reaches of Twilight’s bookbag.

“Why me?!” Twilight sharply replied, but upon noticing the attention shift back to herself, she played it up. “Oh, why me? Why any of us? Such miserable circumstances are these that bring us great growth!”

“Is that from a play?” Spike dully muttered, finding her display a little over the top.

“Um, yes, I’m thinking of writing one,” she forced a bizarre sounding laugh that made her seem even more suspicious.

“Good luck,” he added with a roll of his eyes.

“Which, I should get back to. So I’ll just run up and get my bookbag,” she began to orate, but as she did, the bookbag was dropped haphazardly over the raining and Twilight clumsily fumbled it. After somehow managing not to drop it or spill the contents, she went on, “Oh nevermind, here it is, I’ll just be on my way then. Okay, bye!”

“How did that—?” Spike’s mother started to ask but Spike hurried to cut her off.

“Drive safe, Twilight! I’ll see you tomorrow!” he called loudly after her, waving his hand wildly back and forth until the girl disappeared from sight.

As the door clicked shut, Spike’s mother cheerily hummed before sharing her insights, “You know, you should spend more time with people like Twilight, and less with punks like Rainbow Dash. She’s making a bright future for herself. I can’t even imagine what shenanigans that Dash girl could be getting up to.”

“I can,” Spike subtly replied, but let the comment slip away as he did the same.

Twilight breathed a sigh of relief as she leaned her back against the front door, clutching her bookbag tightly against her chest. She could feel the strange, hard shape hidden beneath the rough fabric, and shakily pressed her fingers against it. It was haunting, like she held some ghost within such a familiar and personal belonging. As the tips of her digits curiously traced the slippery ceramic, she could trace the recession that indicated the line between open and closed, and the gentle scratching sound made a shiver run up her spine to imagine the dust settling with her literature.

Pushing off of the door, she scurried back towards her car (which she had tried three times to park most perfectly, and every time came up short). The sagging satchel bowed and wobbled each step like it was unfamiliar with the weight, although its seams had more than occasionally been tested by texts, notes and stationery. As she climbed through the driver’s side door of the newer model hatchback that her father had helped pay for, she rested the satchel upon her lap.

Her expression scrunched up as she looked down at the bag, as she contemplated what to do with it. Usually when she drove she would stash the bag on the passenger’s side, or leave it wrapped around her shoulder if it was thin enough at the time. But she was unsettled by the knowledge of what lurked unseen. And yet, it was still a great question to her, what indeed was hidden inside.

Curiosity was a very dangerous thing, and it provoked her to peel back the latched flap that enveloped an item of indeterminate value. As she revealed the dark urn to the shadows of the night, that midnight soapstone hue sucked the breath from her lungs like a hungry vortex. Trembling fingers felt the smoothed curves, and dusts of bones snagged on prints of skin. There was some portion that had possibly spilled from the container, or perhaps it was the graveyard dust that Rainbow Dash had forgotten to brush off. Whatever the case, it prompted further investigation.

The light above Twilight flicked on as her trained hand rose and prodded the button, providing just that much more vision. She carefully took hold of the lid and applied the twist of her wrist, feeling some resistance before it broke open. The creak and subsequent echo in the mostly empty container summoned a flinch and a fright, but Twilight carried dutifully on.

Peering into the hollows within, she stared plainly at the face of death. Dust, ash, debris, shards of bone: all these things lined the urn like all the sands in the bottom half of the hourglass. In there, time stood still. Time was lost.

The consuming pull of the deceased was strong, and Twilight had to summon all her will to yank herself away from its clutches. She struggled to put the lid back on correctly, as her haunted hands had great difficulty with the task. To bury her dear friend a second time within the confines of some earthly stone, it was cruel. But there, with the lid perhaps half on, she would remain.

“You’re going in the back,” Twilight’s shivering voice tried to adorn a commanding tone. “So you won’t get any more ash in my bookbag.”

She placed the silky black urn in the back seat and stared at it, considering whether or not to put a seatbelt on it. It was a strange thought, but she didn’t want it to spill over in her car, and maybe she did consider the meaningless contents valuable and worth protecting. As if anything else could hurt what was contained inside.

After strapping the object into place and vowing never to tell a soul about it, Twilight turned her car on and depressed the lever to release the parking brake. After checking her mirrors time and again as if Rainbow Dash might jump out of the bushes with another surprise, she shifted into reverse and pulled out of the driveway.

Twilight lived quite a ways away from Spike, but she was always gracious when offering rides. Besides, she needed the drive to clear her head anyway. It had been a long day for all of them, most of whom had never attended a funeral at all.

As her eyes tried to lock of the high beams of the inconsiderate driver tailgating her, she found herself otherwise distracted. Her rearview mirror had a direct sightline to her sole passenger, and she couldn’t help but glance over time and again. With each turn, she made certain that it did not fall over; with each stop, she made certain it did not wiggle out of the seat belt. It was exhausting, and she wasn’t one who remained quiet under frustration.

“Why did Rainbow Dash think it was a good idea to dig you up, anyway? Is this some sick joke?” Twilight asked in a sharp tone, but she calmed down a little as there was (expectantly) no reply. “No, Rainbow Dash never jokes. Or always jokes. I’m not certain.”

The silence continued on when her lips fell shut, only opening when she anxiously licked them (a habit she had been trying to break). Again, the urn demanded her attention, and her narrowed eyes shot up to look at it there in her rearview. She let out a low sigh, or maybe it was a growl.

“You always thought my car was terribly dull looking. I call it practical.” She pulled slowly on the wheel until she completed another turn.

The sleek streets looked like soggy tar, shimmering in the orange streetlights and distant gleaming moon. Taking the route through downtown, Twilight eyed the splits and cracks along the road that seemed to her like creases marking pages she ought to turn back to. Wet fallen leaves stuck to the curb and storm drains, lining her runway home.

It seemed strange to be bringing Pinkie Pie’s ashes back home with her, as when the girl was alive, she very seldom stopped by Twilight’s house. The two were good friends, but Pinkie Pie prefered being out on the town or at her own house rather than burdening her friends. It seems she never wanted to burned them. Twilight’s eyes found that dark urn once more, even in the dark blinks between streetlights.

Twilight’s seat shook as she ran over a large pothole, and she tapped the breaks as the car skidded and bucked at the bump. She hurriedly checked for any damage or pull from the wheels, hoping she hadn’t ruined the alignment already. Softly releasing her startled breath, she tensed her jaw suspiciously.

“You’re very distracting, you know that,” she uttered accusingly back at the stationary statue. “You always were, I guess.”

Her frustration softened as she remembered the girl, who had once or twice got a lift in Twilight’s car. She was either shouting, texting, or holding her head out the window the whole time. Twilight was certain that once she had even reached over and honked the horn from her seat. But then again, this dirty urn was hardly a representation of the jubilant young girl it represented.

Her hands squeezed and twisted on the steering wheel, feelings the grooves of the grip that she was so accustomed to. She could see as the lights from neon signs and apartment buildings tumbled through her windshield, the way he watch had fallen down her arm a bit and revealed something to her. It was her Stopwatch, her timer. As she nervously gauged it, she found herself unable to pull away. Though it ticked and ticked regularly at first, it suddenly rolled back and began decreasing at an alarming rate. Twilight’s eyes grew wide as she watched it slip down to mere seconds, and caught sight of flashing high beams as they broke in through her side window.

Wrenching on the wheel and slamming her foot on the brake, Twilight spun out to one side under the shrieks of her tires on wet concrete. As her car lurched to a complete stop, the blaring of a deep toned horn residuated over the thumping of blood in her ears. Her saucer-sized eyes blankly watched as a furious truck driver screeched past her, and she was left stunned in the middle of some intersection.

“What… what happened?” Twilight’s hoarse voice meekly asked, and her tense hands slowly peeled off the ribs along her steering wheel. She shakily checked the Stopwatch as it read along her wrist, and breathlessly stared at it as it returned to the previous identifying markers. “Was that almost… the end?”

Though she was unsure if it had been some imagined premonition or the true fluctuation of time upon her body, she calmly settled back into her seat. Pressing her tingling hand against her forehead, she let out a gasp she had nearly strangled inside of her. She was forced out of the intersection by several irritated honks, and sheepishly drove off to the side of the road. As she pushed some stray hair back into the tie beneath a tight bun, the flash of one particular sign caught her attention.

“Sugarcube Corner,” she read aloud like it held some significance to her beyond mere rumour. Rumour, in fact, that had been told from the mouth of the freshly deceased. “That’s the club that you always went to, wasn’t it?”

Her hardened gaze fell upon the urn once more, and though it had tipped slightly to one side, it remained upright and suspicious. The way the object stared back at her, as if taunting her with a cocked head, it drove her mad. Twilight didn’t wait for a response, but clicked her tongue and twinged in frustration.

“What are you trying to tell me? You still want me to go out and enjoy myself, even after what all that has done to you?! You could have gotten me killed, do you realize that?!” she found herself shouting at the still object in her back seat. “Why are you haunting me? What did I ever do to you, Pinkie Pie?”

The urn made no move to respond, as surely it could not. Instead, the container only slipped slightly further out of the seatbelt that fastened it to its place. Twilight yanked on her own seatbelt, enough so that she could turn back and glower as though she could possibly intimidate an inanimate object.

“I can’t bring you home if you’re—you’re possessed!” she cried out, but again, nothing shifted except Twilight in her seat. “If I bring you somewhere else, will you leave me alone? Rarity or Fluttershy might be more, more, I don’t know, compassionate or sentimental. They’ll be better with appeasing whatever unrest you’re displaying here. Do we have a deal?”

Even without a reply, she had made her mind up. Getting back to her drive (though the route had been altered), Twilight tried better to focus on the road rather than whom she was transporting. Considering that Rarity lived quite close, it seemed like the most viable option. Her family’s townhouse was close to the downtown area (in something of a less than ideal neighbourhood due to her father’s inability to find work lately).

Twilight shifted into the narrow lot behind the compact townhouses reserved for visitor parking, which was riddled with cracks from improper pouring of concrete and potholes eroded into the drive. There were several spots occupied by rusted vehicles that seemed to have broken down months or years prior, as Twilight recognized them well. The most well maintained property on the square was easily identifiable as Rarity’s residence, and her father still kept his expensive luxury car to keep up appearances.

There was just enough space for Twilight’s car to squeeze in, though the hatchback jutted out a foot or so farther into the alley than the dumpster beside her. Parking in such a place made her very nervous, so after checking all mirrors twice and hurriedly stuffing the urn back into her book bag, she carefully crawled out of the car and made certain to lock every door. Her car was alarmed anyway, but she was quite fearful of losing the car her parents had bought for her and having to face them about it.

To spend less time walking around the building to get to the front door, Twilight slid her phone between her ear and shoulder and called Rarity to come meet her at the rear. It only took a few beats until her friend arrived, ushering her through the screen door and into the much warmer house. With a shiver, Twilight’s shoes slipped off her feet and she hustled alongside Rarity towards her bedroom.

“What was so urgent that you had to see me in person, darling? I can’t imagine my house was anywhere along your route home,” Rarity curiously inquired, peering over at the face of her clearly nervous friend.

“It’s very important, I assure you. I’m talking life or death,” Twilight spat out in a fluster, brushing her uneven bangs behind her ear.

“Goodness, you can’t be serious?!” A gasp escaped her mouth next, though she politely covered it with her hand. “After what we just went through with Pinkie?”

“A matter of unfortunate timing and lack of quick wit has left me in the possession of something most foul,” her voice sunk dangerously low as her hand slid over the buckles of her satchel. She did not unlatch it yet, not until she had safely entered the privacy of her friend’s bedroom.

“Is it,” she hesitated saying the words aloud, and when she did, it was in a whisper, “a sex toy?”

“What?” It was Fluttershy’s astounded yelp that came next, and Twilight just then became aware that she was sitting on the edge of Rarity’s bed.

“Uh,” Twilight was about to comment on Fluttershy’s presence, when she registered what Rarity had questioned first. “Wait, sex toy?”

“Did Spike slip you some… ‘natural green’?” The word sounded wonderfully foreign on her plump and coloured lips, but as brilliant as it was to hear such a thing, Twilight focused on the topic.

“No, certainly not. Please be serious,” Twilight monotonously told her.

“I thought I was,” Rarity sounded unsure of herself, but let her friend continue.

“This was no boyhood rebellion, this was Rainbow Dash’s handiwork.” Her hand twitched on the clips, and she slowly began to open her bag.

“Same thing,” Rarity murmured with a pleased tune, amused with herself.

“I can’t bring this home, so can you please take care of it for me until I figure out what to do with it?” Twilight removed the object from deep within her bag, feeling some stray specks of dust pinned between her digits and the soapstone.

Holding it up for the pair to see, she elicited both a startled gasp and a near shout, the latter coming from Fluttershy’s devastated expression. Rarity composed herself quickly, and curiously tilted her head as if she was pretending to be unsure of what it was. Meanwhile the other startled girl in the room had to stave off the feeling of a faint coming on.

“Is, is t-that,” Fluttershy meekly began, but spoke so slowly that it was uncertain if she would finish at all.

“A decorative vase?” Rarity tried to chime in, though such a thing was unlikely.

“I’m afraid not. Rainbow Dash dug it up and made me handle it, but there’s so way that I can keep it from my parents, and driving with it in my new car is precarious.” The focus of the room was still on the oblong object clutched in Twilight’s small hands. “It still contains the remains of our dear friend.”

“That can’t be so,” Rarity denied such a fact, but before Twilight could assure her, she continued on with agreement to the terms. “But of course, I’ll watch your cute little vase. It’s quite charming indeed.”

Rarity took the urn readily from Twilight’s hands and strolled over to her closet. At first, she looked for the perfect place to display it, but something irked her about the idea. Again she went to try and find space, this time in her wardrobe closet and on shelves inside, but there was too little space after it was stuffed with her clothes and projects. Instead, she rustled around in a few boxes to the left until finding some space to stash it. As she turned around, she found Twilight gently consoling her upset friend.

“Was that all, Twilight? I hate to be a rude host, but I have a project that I need to get back to. Im sure you wouldn’t be too fond of hanging around while I work,” Rarity tried to sweep the subject under the rug, and returned to her work station with a dignified stride.

“I have to be getting home actually, it’s almost my curfew,” Twilight concurred curtly, touching the bun in her hair to make certain she didn’t look as dishevelled as she felt.

“Stay safe,” Fluttershy uttered quietly, though even she was a little embarrassed and unsure why she said it at all.

“I will,” Twilight replied with a friendly smile.

The academic young lady left her friend’s room promptly, never one to overstay her welcome. However, there was a shift in the atmosphere since she arrived, and it left the remaining two occupants in silence. It wasn’t usually so uncomfortable, but there was tension, and whether or not they admitted it, their minds were stuck in the thick tar of thought.

Pulling the heavy hood over her head, Fluttershy peaked out from behind the pink hair dangling in front of her eyes. Her original reason for visiting her friend had been to discuss and possibly weep over the funeral just hours earlier, but seeing Rarity projecting no signs of grief, there was no need. She supposed that she still needed the fabric swatches that Rarity had done up for the drama club’s play, but there was little else to discuss. The remainder of the night was filled with nothing but the gentle hum of a sewing machine, and the anxious shuffling and finiking of Fluttershy’s awkward hands.

“Fluttershy, I might be a tad absorbed by this little project of mine, I do apologize,” Rarity murmured beyond the noisy machine.

“It’s alright, I understand,” she quietly replied, perhaps realizing that it was a better time for some to dive into hobbies than to dwell on painful things.

Stopping once to adjust her red-framed (and seldom worn) glasses and brush aside a frazzled stray strand of hair, she resumed her work. “The mock-ups are in a box over there, if you’d like to critique them. We’re still on for this Saturday, yes?”

“Oh, um, of course,” the shy woman muttered, twirling her own loose strand of hair. “It’s just that, are you sure you don’t want me to stay a little longer?”

“Tut-tut, Fluttershy, I require focus. And as much as I would love for you to keep me company, I must enter… the zone,” her voice took on a dull monotone, all the while Fluttershy kept her eyes glued to the bouncing wavy locks of her friend.

“I might need the company,” Fluttershy whispered, turning away in the direction of the box of costume designs and preliminary makes.

Nothing else would escape her mouth. Resigned to her removal from her friend’s home, Fluttershy dragged her feet across the room, hoping to prolong her presence as long as possible. The urge to constantly work had overtaken her friend, and she presumed to know the reason behind it. Alas, there was nothing she could do.

Thin, fragile fingers brushed against the cardboard sides, the scraping noise agitating Fluttershy’s ears for the briefest of moments. With a quick heft, she lifted the box off the ground and made her way towards the exit, stopping to glance back at the fashionista.

“Uh, goodbye, I guess,” Fluttershy said in a way that addressed nobody or nothing in particular.

Rarity remained ever ignorant of her friend’s vain attempts to stay and muttered something along the lines of a goodbye. Something compelled Fluttershy to stay regardless, but the unending silence eerily reminded her that someone special to her was no longer present. Swallowing a pool of saliva, she finally stepped out of the bedroom and made for the exit.

After a chilling near half hour waiting on Rarity’s stoop for her mother to get ready and come pick her up, Fluttershy was finally on her way home. While alone, the girl tormented herself by rereading old text messages (most of which had guiltily little to no responses on her end of the conversation) or perusing blurry camera roll photos. In almost every picture, including those of a whole group, Fluttershy was often the one standing right next to Pinkie Pie. And yet while it seemed her responsibility to know her dear friend best, she had failed everyone.

There was hardly any distance between Rarity’s house and her own, though Fluttershy’s residence was much more cosy and lived-in. It was an old, character home in a significantly nicer suburb near the university. The shallow roof made the whole place look like it was crouching, but her mother always praised that it had a charm to it that most buyers overlooked. Fluttershy might have agreed, if the sprawling layout didn’t make her feel utterly alone without the company of a spry young lady whom had so recently passed.

Fluttershy placed the box of costumes on her bed, the same place that most of her regularly used clothes ended up. Sitting down next to the rounds and folds of her messy comforter, she sighed a solemn breath that would succumb to the otherwise silent bedroom. Her phone charger laid lazily on the bedside table, and for a second she thought that plugging it in might summon the usual late night call from Pinkie Pie. But she had to come to terms that her call log would be much shorter these days.

Taking Rarity’s unspoken advice, Fluttershy decided to busy herself with a distraction. That distraction was the box of obligations to her class that rested beside her, and she shifted her knees to curl up and face it. It was an improvement, certainly, upon her earlier designs, and suited the tale better. The era was well represented, and the fabric seemed more natural and representative of the quality at the time. But as she moved a mock-up of a button-up, she froze in horror.

Stashed in the box with the rest of the costumes was the rounded soapstone urn containing what she presumed was Pinkie Pie’s ashes.

“Ahh!” she shrieked in surprise.

Her already trembling hands turned cold, and if anyone would have been there to witness it, they would have testified that all colour drained from her face. As she uneasily brought it closer to herself, she accidentally almost dropped the weighted object, causing some of the delicate dust to slip off of the lid and settle on her sheets. She frantically tried to sweep it off, but placing the urn down on the pillow next to her own left a small line of what could well have been parts of Pinkie that had accompanied her in sleepovers where they had shared that bed before.

With a sharp scream, Fluttershy grabbed the urn and set it on the dresser across the room from the foot of her bed. Her breathing laboured, she shakily shook out her comforter and nearly fell back onto the raised queen size mattress. Eyes wide and both hands clasped over her chest, she gawked at the visitor that she had not invited.

It looked terribly still and dead, the black hues swept about by thin lines of ivory and flecks of moonlight. A cold, statuesque representation of a soul lost. It felt as though it looked right back at her, perched on her waist-high dresser with the fraction crooked lid curiously observing her.

A slow and careful swallow made room for a hoarse question, “P-Pinkie Pie, is that… r-really you?”

It was as expected, with no answer returning. But Fluttershy could have sworn that she would have known what Pinkie would have said. It would have been loud, it would have been cheery, it might have shared something unspoken that she did not have the capacity to understand. She twitched uneasily as she felt attention, though she should not have felt such a thing at all.

“The only time we’ve spoken and you’ve been quiet was when I,” found you, was the end of that sentence. But she almost choked on either saliva or sobs. “I don’t know why I’m talking to you—it—this. I must sound so silly.”

She shook her head, as if it could shake away the sensations she was trying to ignore. Suddenly she was disinterested in doing anything productive, and almost angrily snatched the box of secrets and decorations, tossing it onto the floor. Without following through with any of her usual bedtime routines, she slapped the light off and jumped into bed so swiftly that the cover was the slowest thing to settle down over her tense body. Her eyes were squeezed shut, but that gave her no solace. No matter how she tried to convince herself that it wasn’t really there, she could feel so nearly unnoticeable bits of dirt or dust or ash. It was all around her, in her hair, against her fingers and toes, and it drove her mad.

She woke abruptly to the sound of her phone vibrating on the bedside table, though she had not remembered leaving it there. As it did not ring again, she imagined that it was a text. As she rubbed the sleep from her eyes and crawled over to the table, she groggily entered her password and tried to comprehend the message.

Imagining the brash young girl’s voice, she read over the message that she could have known was from Rainbow Dash even if she hadn’t seen the identifier of who sent it hanging on top of the screen, “Hey kiddo, you’re coming to the hill tomorrow night. Just like trust me or some shit. Text the details later. So, later yo.”

Fluttershy blinked a few times like it might change the message, but it did not. As she dropped the phone back in its place and rolled around, she was alarmed by the sensation of small particles in her bed. Nearly flailing herself clean out of the mess of covers, she bolted to the other side of the bed.

There, across the room, clad in what seemed like an imagined shadow, was the urn that had been solemnly watching her slumber. Her eyes combatted the darkness as she tried to come up with a reasonable size to rate the object, but the lack of light made it nearly impossible to identify. Slinking back under the comforter like it was the arms of some maternal figure she thought she had outgrown, Fluttershy reminded herself of how insane it seemed to be afraid of an inanimate object such at that, no matter what it contained.

She gradually settled in as she realized how loud she might have been in the otherwise occupied house. Telling herself that it was no big deal, that she was overreacting, that sleep would make her feel better and make everything disappear for a short time, she managed to fade into the darkness behind her eyelids once more.

The urn was so black that Fluttershy wasn’t certain it might hold any light, or that anything good might emerge. She thought these things as she grasped it tighter than she probably should have, so firmly that the tips of her fingers turned white.

Around her, the rest of the day had seemed to succumb to the influence of such a devilish thing, as the sun hid away beneath the horizon long ago. She had arrived much earlier than the others, due to her lack of will to stay another moment longer with that cursed thing watching her. It was a very quiet evening, like the whole world was silently mourning. It had her on edge.

“Fluttershy, that you?” a particular twang accompanied the question, though both made Fluttershy jump with a start.

“O-Oh, um, Applejack, it’s just you,” the introverted girl shook nearly as much as her voice, and Applejack noticed her strange behaviour immediately.

“Just me, well ain’t that the most flatterin’ greetin’ a girl could ask for,” she teased, causing Fluttershy to try to stammer some apology. Judging from the crooked Stetson on her head, she had driven to the hill, as she always carried that thing around in her Jeep.

“I didn’t mean it like, like that, or mean, or anything, or,” her words jumped around and her numbing fingers wiggled over what ominous object she clutched.

“It’s fine kiddo, I was jus’ playin’,” Applejack eased her, but Fluttershy was a little bothered by the way she had adopted Rainbow Dash’s belittling colloquialism of her. They must have thought it was endearing, as Applejack often spoke in casual means, and likely didn’t intend harm.

She was never one to speak up about such things, though, and instead settled for the usual unsolicited, “Sorry.”

“So that’s her, ain’t it?” The words were few, but they spoke of some grandeur unmentioned.

“Her…?” Fluttershy flinched as she realized what Applejack intended, and she slowly raised the object between them as though she was afraid it might crack if she was not careful. She wasn’t fond of mentioning the contents, so Applejack’s mention of a familiar pronoun was hard to accept. “Oh, well, yes. I guess so.”

“It’s small, real small. Who’dda thought we could be stuffed into somethin’ this size, after all? After everythin’? Reduced t’ th’ stuff we sweep up under the carpets.” Applejack softly noted, walking right up and very gently retrieving the urn from Fluttershy’s grasping hands. She reverently looked upon it, as though all fear or disdain was wiped from her mind, and through such an admiring expression, Fluttershy’s conscience was temporarily cleared too. “Must be mighty quiet inside all that stone. A welcome change, maybe.”

“Maybe,” she wasn’t sure how to respond, but that maternal and compassionate gleam in her friend’s eyes gave her an overwhelming sense of security.

“I dunno what my Rainbow’s got t’ thinkin’, but I’m sure she means well.” The blonde lowered the urn into one arm as though she was holding a toddler against her side.

Fluttershy staved off a rude scoff, annoyed about the entire situation that they had been thrown into on Rainbow’s whim. “Does she ever mean well?”

“I can understand how y’might see that,” Applejack smiled as she spoke of her dearest companion, and seemed to leave the statement dangling between them.

“Ahh, there you are!” another voice cut in. Fluttershy had seen Rarity and Twilight approaching from behind Applejack, but had said nothing. Rarity spoke again, “Fluttershy dear, I told you that Twilight was coming to pick me up. She would have gladly given you a ride too, had you not been ignoring my calls.”

“You had us pretty worried,” Twilight added seriously, remembering their last friend who ignored calls before a meeting at the usual spot.

“I didn’t mean to, my mom was just going into town and offered me a ride.” It was a flimsy and easy excuse, but it went unquestioned.

“How long have you been here?” Rarity tried another inquiry while adjusting her fluffy earmuffs, her knowing gaze prompting a truthful response.

“Maybe an hour.” It was no wonder that her fingers and toes had begun to lose sensation, even after being wrapped up so tightly.

Fluttershy nervously tugged at the little ends of olive coloured sweater that stuck out from beneath her pale jacket. She would have instinctively checked her Stopwatch, as she had done incessantly while alone in the company of the oblong shape of soapstone, but the tightened wrists of her windbreaker prevented her prying eyes. Twilight and Applejack exchanged worried gazes, but neither spoke up about it.

“Well don’t tell me that we have to wait on Rainbow Dash,” Rarity huffed irritably as she crossed her arms in protest.

“She’s just about here, an’ she’s got Spike with ‘er,” Applejack explained simply, shuffling the urn to her other arm so she could put one hand into a pocket.

She was correct, as Rainbow Dash had just finished parking her car (which actually started for once, and trudged on long enough to pick up Spike and get them both to the hill). The bright-headed young girl jumped out of her MGB and stretched her legs, as they were quite cramped in the little convertible, hence why she always had the seat pushed all the way back. Spike had just as hard of a time, being the tallest of the bunch and often holding himself tightly for dear life when driving with his friend.

“I’m alive, by some miracle,” Spike grumbled as he nearly fell out of the car, as it was significantly lower to the ground than he was used to.

“That miracle is my insanely awesome driving skills, thank you.” She took a bow as she locked her car up tightly with a few jimmies of the keys in the door.

“Can we just get this over with already? I don’t want to get caught with all this shit,” he murmured as he swung the backpack at the length of his arm.

“Give me that,” Rainbow growled as she snatched her bag from his unsuspecting hand, throwing it roughly over her shoulders and tightening the bright straps. “Besides, you’re more than old enough to start working on your own damn rap sheet by now, man up.”

“My parents are right, you’re a terrible influence.” He made a face as he followed after her, hoping to push her buttons a bit.

“Tell your parents they can suck my ass,” she grumbled through the filter of a cigarette, which she was currently lighting. “And you shouldn’t be in such a rush all the time anyway. Try to have a little fun, will you?”

“You sound like Pinkie,” Spike quietly remarked, though he tried to fix the dip in mood by adding a few more insults to the mix. “A very bitchy Pinkie, if she had the voice of a chain-smoking fifteen-year-old boy.”

“Shots fired, shit.” Rainbow laughed and tapped the end of her smoke with her thumb. “At least my balls dropped by the time I was fifteen.”

“Do I even want to know what you two are going on about?” Rarity asked sarcastically as the two came into earshot and line of sight.

Rainbow Dash shrugged at the prospect, but walked right past the woman to whom she responded, “Probably.”

Her first instinct was to smile at the woman she loved, seeing Applejack almost immediately. However, what that small blonde held tucked beneath an arm that often draped around Rainbow Dash, that did not elicit any warm expression. With a forced laugh, Rainbow approached the green eyed girl and tried to tangle some charm into her tone.

“Bet you and Pinkie have a few questions about all this, right?” her voice raised in query, and she propped her knuckles up on her hips to appear decided. “I hope she hasn’t been talking your ear off, AJ.”

“I trust you’ve got somethin’ of a plan, don’t cha?” Applejack hoped, greeting her girlfriend with a quick kiss and a squeeze of the hand.

“You have too much faith in her,” Spike murmured in something that sounded like irritation or distaste, looking away at the sight of their little signs of affection as if it made him uncomfortable.

“Oh come off it, Che.” Rainbow Dash caught the attitude in his words and strode over to him like she was about to scold him, but there was a playful spark in her words instead of the violent outburst he anticipated. “You’re gonna love it.”

She lightly flicked his nose, causing a startled flinch from the pink-haired kid. His fluster and the subtle rosiness in his cheeks was masked by the darkness and completely missed or ignored by the girl who swung her bright backpack off of her shoulder. As she startled to rifle through it blindly, she gestured for Spike to retrieve the urn that Applejack was still holding. Their exchange was polite and awkward, Applejack and Spike’s, but the urn changed hands anyway.

Rainbow approached the most open and flat area of the field, which happened to be near the highest point (which was only now clear because of the removal of trees for the upcoming construction plans). Squatting down and slumping the worn bag between her knees, she fully parted the zippers and began removing some of the contents. Behind her, Twilight, Rarity and Fluttershy all shifted side to side and traded expressions of anxiety and suspicion.

“Well, while you’re down there,” Spike started, and Rainbow snorted as she noticed his innuendo.

“Yeah, I’ll set your balls on fire while I’m down here, that’s what I’ll do,” Rainbow Dash retorted aggressively, watching the boy out the side of her eyes. Raising her hand out in his direction, she got back on topic. “Give me the shit already.”

“Is this going to work? I mean, have you done this kind of thing before?” Spike wondered in a whisper, glancing back at the other girls to make sure they weren’t trying to get too close.

“This isn’t my first time, freshman,” she teased him as she snatched the urn from him and tossed the lid off. “Though I’ve never used a dead friend’s ashes before, or done anything quite this big.”

“That’s what she—” Spike paused as he remembered the part about ashes, and winced before following through with, “said.”

“Um, ew. But you do you, boo.” Rainbow shoved two parts of a cylindrical object together after tinkering with it a bit. Inspecting the thing over once more, she seemed pretty pleased with it, and continued on to duplicate the procedure.

“Is everything okay over there?” Twilight’s voice carried over from her spot beside the other girls. “Should we be worried?”

“Duh,” Rainbow called back loudly to one of the questions, not pausing in her duties. “Okay, it’s just about ready. Got your lighter?”

“I’m going to do it?” Spike gulped in surprise and mild fear.

“Well sure, that way if we get caught, I go down for making the things, and you go down for reckless endangerment, and a few more measly misdemeanours. Good luck.” She swung her now mostly empty bag back over one shoulder and held the urn something like a football under her arm.

“Anything I should know before I do it?” Spike watched her saunter back over to the group, not even stalling to reply.

“You’d better not have skipped track and field!” Rainbow Dash called back as she flashed him a wink. As she made it to the other girls, she gestured for them all to move back a few paces. “All right, you’re going to want to stand back a ways.”

“What is all this, anyway?” Rarity was the next to pose a question.

“Whatever it is, it sounds dangerous.” Twilight crossed her arms as she followed the directions to scoot back.

“I couldn’t stand the thought of Pinkie Pie spending eternity in a little box, underground,” Rainbow Dash’s tone became somewhat more solemn or sincere, and Applejack smiled as she was warmed by the sentiment.

“When she was little, she was terrified of the dark,” Fluttershy whispered in a sad hush, causing a brief moment of silence.

“Pinkie once told me that when she died, she wanted to be blasted off to the moon. Sounded like a joke, but it really does seem like what she’d want.” Rainbow Dash started up again, looking up at the dark evening sky. With a calm exhale, she raised her arm and proposed a thumbs-up for Spike to see from the spot she left him. “As much as I’d like to make that happen for her, this is the best that I’ve got.”

A hissing sound accompanied a distant flicker by Spike’s feet, and he backed up slowly with his gaze set upon the contraption. After several anticipatory seconds, Spike curiously stepped back towards it as nothing of interest ensued. He nearly jumped out of his jacket as the thing went off, hollering and spinning like a rocket into the sky.

Fire and sparks rained down along the trail left by the projectile, and it whistled until it nearly turned black in the dark sky. A burst and a booming clap ignited the whole hill, a flaming circle of dancing lights that slowly dwindled and sank to the ground. The whole lot of them watched in awe as the twinkling particles settled to dust and smoke.

“Fireworks,” Rainbow Dash stated simply, proudly spectating as Spike bent down to light another explosive.

“I’ll say,” Rarity agreed as she gawked.

“Did you make those?” Twilight inquired, though the answer was clear enough.

“I keep the recipe card between Enchiladas and Flan.” Her remark went mostly unheard as another projectile screamed into the sky and erupted into a rain of glitter.

“It’s beautiful, Dash,” Applejack murmured serenely, removing her old driving hat by the wide brim and placing it gently over her heart.

Spike could do nothing but stare ever so intently at the sparkles, ignorant to a falling bone fragment landing by his feet. Never having seen such a thing in his life prior, it went by easily overlooked. As a cool breeze swept the hilltop, rustling each blade of grass. As he went to take his gentle, serene next breath, a small cloud of thin dark powder hit his face, blinding the boy from the stellar light show above. With the ash stained onto his flesh, he gasped in surprise, inhaling some of the fine grainy ash that had not fully dissolved in the firework. Immediately, he began heaving and coughing something like his seldom present grandfather (who had smoked handfuls of homemade cigarettes every day since the Great War), snaring the attention of those around him.

“Are you smoking over there? Can you not wait? Have some respect.” Twilight groaned disappointedly, stepping away from any potential cannabis smoke that might waft towards her.

The sounds coming from Spike’s mouth may have been considered a defence or dispute, yet a few others followed Twilight and stepped away from the boy currently choking on what seemed to be the remains of their deceased comrade.

“Oh god,” a breathless gasp tried to interrupt the syntax. “Make it stop!” Spike wheezed as he desperately punched himself in the chest as if trying to repel the substance from his airways.

Quicker than most, Rainbow caught on to Spike’s desperate ails as another small bone fragment landed on her shoe, drawing her attention to the situation. Dancing sky snakes of smoke and smog drifted down from the fading bursts of light, and it was clear that Spike’s troubles were caused by being too near to this. With a snort, Rainbow shook a chortle loose from her lips and her eyes gazed at the dimming fireworks once more. She shuffled closer to her freckled woman and grazed her fingers over Applejack’s.

“Good one, Pinks,” Rainbow whispered to herself as Spike caught his breath, wiping the ash from his eyes. “You’re still making us laugh.”

Fluttershy neglected the chill on her thin lips, sucking icy air through her parted teeth as though she was famished for it. Rarity (who for once was disconcerned with vanity as her hair gathered microscopic flecks of ash), if for a moment, seemed to recall the absence of her friend and the reality of the situation around her. The thought that the brash and abrasive Rainbow Dash was capable of creating such a beautiful moment, it seemed incredible. But there was no sadness, not in this moment. The imagined echoes of a bubbly laugh triggered the smallest of smirks in her porcelain perfect face. It was something that suddenly felt so entirely unnatural.

Twin bursts erupted at once, and the glimmering patterns painted the sky magical. As the twinkling lights became nothing but traces of stars, the slow tails of smoke went as unnoticed as all traces of foreshadowing that Pinkie had left (like landmarks on a poorly drawn treasure map) in her wake. Yet against the stark midnight canvas, pirouetting particles of frosting precipitation flipped through the night sky towards the distracted crowd.

It was early in the autumn for snow to have fallen, but it sure suited a tragic time for many things to have fallen so soon. With mercury dipping below the point of considered freezing, those few souls were solidified beneath the hanging illumination; a personification of the most vibrant young girl that had blazed before them. The final few fireworks slammed against the troposphere, Spike stifled his troublesome coughing and fell into line beside what friends he had left.

With snowflakes clinging desperately to their clothing, the remaining young company leaned together like hollow frames of straw and skin, swinging in the wind’s singing. Whistles and shouts of munitions echoed across the valley and cusps of the river, yet faded into the perhaps silence known by inhabitants of such a cold place. Finally, six souls were stranded beneath the massive universe.

The unnatural sounds of the city filled the void left by the bombastic fireworks above: car horns, various large engine vehicles revving, gusts screaming past high rises. None of the mortal few (who seemed insignificant beneath the booming blast of the created lights dwindling to memory and fabrication) dared to be the first to speak. After all, what possible sound could do justice to the moment?

A familiar high-frequency siren squeaked through the air, accompanied by red and blue lights approaching the park. However, the twirling illumination and telling iteration was an interruption for those who for a moment thought they were alone in good company. It wasn’t entirely surprising, but it did wake them from their dazzled dreaming. The first person to react was none other than the creator of the fireworks, whose body stiffened as she recognized the agency and authority such sounds and sights held.

“Shit, scatter!” Rainbow hunched down and broke into a mad dash towards her vehicle, tugging the protesting Applejack behind her by barely a fingertip.

“Are we going to prison?!” Rarity called after her fleeing friend in a terrified tone.

“This whole shenanigan is illegal, but surely any rational officer might listen to—” Twilight tried to be reasonable, but another frantic cry interrupted her.

“I’ll never make it out of there alive!” Fluttershy squealed before crushing her bitten fingernails between her chattering teeth.

“Peace!” Spike called back as he took off after his fastest friend.

Author's Note

It's a leap day miracle! Another chapter at last, only about a year late. I'm hopefully going to try to catch up, but I doubt I'll be able to update as quickly as I used to. Arby Works and I have a lot of plans for this fic, so do continue reading, and follow me on Twitter for more teasers and bonuses!
Laterrrr