Sentimental

by FabulousDivaRarity

Rating: everyone
Tags: Cloudy Quartz, Pinkie Pie, Slice of Life, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic
Length: 1129

Cloudy Quartz isn't sentimental... Right?

Farm mare. Wife. Mother. Cloudy Quartz is all of those things. One thing to be said for her was her lack of emotionality. But that doesn't mean she can't be sentimental.

Published 2019-07-27 07:50:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-07-27 07:50:01 UTC

Sentimental

Author's Note

Just a random little one shot that had a mind of its own. Cloudy Quartz is really in my head today.

Enjoy, all!

Sentimental

Cloudy Quartz was not, by any means, a sentimental mare. Very flat in her emotional demeanor and tone of voice, and using in old names, one would not believe much of anything to be of great value for her. Were one to walk through her home, they might have thought the thing that meant the most to her was the family quilt. It had been passed down through generations of Pie rock farmers, and was added to as more members came. Her marriage to Igneous, and the births of her four daughters meant five new squares were added to it. The quilt spanned the entire length of a sofa, and Cloudy catered to it with precision. It never went dirty, it never got tattered, it remained as pristine as it had been when she received it. But the quilt itself was only part of a story. The sentimental value behind it came from the stories of her daughters behind it.

Each of her daughters were unique and special. Maud’s knack for knowing rocks had lead to great things for their farm. Limestone’s leadership had made it a well oiled machine (not that Mother Pie knew of such things considering that she did not use machinery on her farm- so said Father Pie.), and Marble, though shy, was the best at maintaining the rocks harvested in the fields.

That left her daughter Pinkamena.

Though the rest of her daughters had gone into the rock farming business and were much more like herself, there was something special about the bond Cloudy Quartz shared with her second-youngest child. Pinkie (for it was her preferred name) was a breath of fresh air on cloudy days. Her vibrancy, her jubilance, her obvious love, and her boisterousness were in stark contrast to Cloudy herself, but that was why Cloudy loved her so. Pinkie embodied many qualities she wished she had. But the one quality she cherished the most in her daughter was her innocence.

Limestone, Maud, and Marble had lost their own innocence so long ago. The work of Rock Farmers was hard and taxing, and didn’t leave much room for smiles, joy, and play. But somehow, Pinkie had retained it, and she adored that. Though she did not personally do well with showing emotions, the fact that Pinkie Pie always kept that innocence warmed her heart. Some things just couldn’t be replicated, and that was one of them.

Long after her other children had decided to grow up, Pinkie Pie still climbed into her lap, and asked her to read a story. When her other girls were busy preparing for the morning, Pinkie would sit near her mother and watch as she cleaned her half-moon spectacles, always looking fascinated by it. Pinkie still had the baby blanket Cloudy had stitched for her by hoof. Cloudy could recall rubbing her ever-growing stomach before going to task while she was pregnant. There was an old rocking chair passed down in the family, and she’d sat in it, humming an old song, and sewing that Quilt. She’d made one for each of her babies before they were born. Winters were harsh, and she’d always wanted to make sure her girls would be warm if they had to go outside. Cloudy Quartz was not demonstrative in physical affection as her daughter was, but rather showed it through her actions.

Every home cooked meal, every quilt she sewed, every winter scarf she made for them herself, and every small gesture carried the gravity of just how much her family meant to her. And though she did not always show it, her family never doubted it. Especially Pinkie Pie. She could recall having been near exhaustion from work on the farm one day, and Pinkie had asked her a question about where the flour was in the kitchen because she couldn’t find it. Cloudy hadn’t even heard her, her mind so frayed. She’d gone into her room and taken a rare nap after her day. She’d only done that three times since her children had been born, and when she’d woken up, Pinkie had come to her room with a small cake to brighten her day. The simple gesture meant so much to her, and she’d returned it with making her daughter a new quilt for her bed.

The moments and memories she enjoyed the most, though, were the quiet ones. The ones where Pinkie would come up to her as a filly, and ask her, “Mommy, will you brush my mane?” And Cloudy would nod. Cloudy would sit in the rocking chair with Pinkie sitting on the floor before her and gently brush her mane. It was a time of quiet and bonding, usually reserved for Sunday Mornings when the farm work wasn’t nearly as heavy. She’d brush her daughter’s mane until not a single knot remained, all the while humming a gentle tune, and when it was over, Pinkie would give her a big hug and a kiss on the cheek, and say, “Thank you, Mommy!” Before bouncing out of the room like a spring. And Cloudy would smile to herself.

The one word that hadn’t been lost in all the years between them was “Mommy”. It transcended the passage of time. Even as an adult, the word had stayed with Pinkie, as had her emotionality. After Pinkie had left home, there had been a few occasions when Pinkie had taken the train back to the rock farm, weeping and feeling defeated. She’d come in the middle of the night once, and shaken Cloudy awake, whimpering, “Mommy.”. Cloudy had taken one look at her daughter’s tear stained face, gotten out of bed, led Pinkie to the couch and held her for a long while. Pinkie had cried herself out, and Cloudy had taken the family blanket and put it over both of them. Eventually, she’d calmed down enough to talk through what had happened, and then fell asleep in her mother’s arms. Cloudy had slept there that night. When her daughter had woken up, she was her usual bouncy self again.

Those were the moments that mattered to her the most. Sometimes just hearing the word “Mommy” from Pinkie grounded her. When the work from the farm made her bones ache and she felt too weak to continue, she’d think of her daughters, of hearing that sound, and she would find the strength to soldier on. She wasn’t always expressive, but her family meant everything to her, and that’s what was important.

Cloudy did not consider herself emotional, but when it came to her family, she was always sentimental.