Applebloom cursed in gibberish countryisms and shielded her eyes, blocking out the cruel sun. At least, she'd block it out because most of the sky became gloomy hours ago. That one bit of sun became a hurtful brilliance. When somepony saw too much dark, the dimmest light hurt their weary eyes. She trotted toward the casket, donning her best black dress for the lowering of their casket. Everypony they knew gathered for the final moments of somepony they never got to cherish. Glancing away let her spot Scootaloo, who wore her trademark scowl, the same one she'd acquired after becoming a police officer. She'd worn her cap that day, only to keep it at her chest while the rain stained her coat. Somewhere, deep inside those greyed, purple eyes, she saw broken hopes.

The roses started falling. And in-turn, Sweetie Belle's friends tossed their own roses. Applebloom buried her with their first performance microphone. She saw her friend throw a simple, little box to accompany Sweetie's absence, burying her with their engagement. Everypony took turns layering the coffin in dirt, till the bulldozer lowered the final portion over her. Sweetie Belle was remembered as a friend, a lover and a mare that did her best to follow her dreams. Her older sister was proud of her, even if she could never be proud of herself. Rarity made her way toward the grave as the crowd dispersed.

Nopony but Applebloom saw her tape a piece of paper beneath the text. It was a picture littered with gems from sometime ago. Regions near the heart were elevated with dry tears.

"Miss Rarity." Applebloom called, shuffling quietly with her sidearm in holster.

"Y-yes-s, Applebloom...?" She barely choked out, fighting her urge to whimper and sob.

"... She talked a lot about you. Bout how strong you were and how nice you were when she was sick. She couldn't stop talkin' about ya when we were over. All she did was show us your dresses and tell us all sorts of stories about how you got the ideas for them. Sweetie Belle ain't gone like you think, Miss Rarity. A piece of her is always gonna be in that house. She felt the same way about you."

"She... she talked about me...?" Rarity whimpered, gritting her teeth and watching her hate magic hiss against the tainted grass.

"She did. Never stopped once. Not even for an hour..." Whispered Applebloom, smiling brightly as she saluted her departed friend.

Applejack came back and held her friend till the rain stopped. They went home cold with colds, but not cold inside. Instead, the mare of the hour remembered her sister as she was: somepony to remember. Somepony to smile for. They watched a lone pegasus trot away in the rain, her loss driving her to smoke and wander the concrete landscape. Scarlet Skates Belle. That would've been her name if they were ever official.

Scootaloo, like her namesake implied, was a mare of her own, brash way.

All her brashness, all her toughness and grit left with her better half.

Till death do us part, she remembered fondly, recollecting time's they practiced their vows. She couldn't tell if it was rain or tears choking the air away.

Author's Note

Good luck and goodbye.