She’d actually been relieved when the telegram had informed her that the train would be late. With so much to do around the house that still required her hand, any extra time was a godsend. The bedsheets had needed more time in the dryer because she’d stuffed the kids’ things in with everyone else’s; the storefront had been extra busy and she’d spent most of the morning working on a birthday cake for Twist’s 18th; picking up the kids from school, helping Pound Cake with his homework, cleaning the guest bathroom- on and on it had seemed to go! So much special preparation constantly delayed by her daily duties had left Cup Cake drained. Barely even a bite to eat throughout the day, too. There just hadn’t been the time.
“And now,” the hardy woman breathed, “To hold on till dinnertime.” Though eager for her guest to arrive, an empty stomach looked not at the pleasure of company but to the meal beyond. It would certainly be welcome when the time came.
“Hey, Mom?” The curly hair of her daughter preceded the head that poked through the door, clear eyes and a sweet face facing her as Pumpkin Cake made an appearance.
“What is it, sweetheart?” Cup Cake inquired. Muscles were made ready to move from this comfortable seat on the porch where she had chosen to rest, to depart from the serenity of a spring evening and back into the maelstrom that was raising children.
“I’m… done with my homework,” the young girl said. “Can I go play with my friends? We were gonna go ride our scooters…”
“Where were you going to go?” Said Cup Cake.
Pumpkin Cake just shrugged. “Around town. We weren’t gonna go anyplace special.”
“Then that’s fine,” said the lone matriarch. “Stay away from the forest, and be back before dinner.”
Pumpkin Cake sighed; the usual warnings of Everfree were a common sentiment from her mother, every the worrywart. It was too far away to be an adventure worth pursuing, and too much hassle to deal with anyway! Despite her constant groanings about such ‘Mom-isms,’ not once had they ceased. “Yes, Mom,” the young girl sighed, and was soon racing off to where her prize set of wheels and helmet awaited her.
“Is your brother done with his homework yet?” Cup Cake called.
“I dunno!” Pumpkin Cake yelled back.
“And of course she doesn’t,” Cup Cake muttered to herself. Pumpkin was growing up- almost nine, in fact! And both she and her twin brother were at the edge where spending time alongside their sibling was the last thing they desired to achieve. “It was easier when they were younger. They liked being friends…” She’d given Pound Cake an hour-and-a-half to get all his schoolwork done; if he wasn’t finished yet, it was time to find out why. Despite how her body protested at the movement and pleaded for a continuance in its comfort, the aging mother rose from her porch seat with a grunt and made to go inside-
The sound came across the air in its unmistakable high-pitched wail, cold and shrill as the lonesome sound echoed on through the town. From the station did the train make its call, whistling to herald its arrival in town after a long delay. Many a tired soul would depart from within its numerous compartments, searching for a place in which to rest; one of them would be eager to return to the loft she called home, and she would not be traveling alone…
“Perfect timing,” Cup Cake declared. “Time to get the kettle on, too.” Inside did the bright-haired woman stride, making her way beyond the kitchen that was both office and home to the halls beyond, back to the sky-blue room she knew housed only one. Sitting at the edge of his seat and neck straining over his desk sat a tussle-haired young boy, a thick book spread open and filled with scrawl that lay there to be deciphered. She could hear him muttering a few words every now and then, sounding them out as tongue would aid in deciphering. He tried his hardest, of course, but the struggle to read had always been present right from the start. Dear Miss Cheerilee and Princess Twilight had been so helpful in his progress.
A knock on the door to alert him to her presence. “Hey there,” She greeted with a smile, “The train just came in. Pinkie and Miss Quartz will be here in just a minute. You almost done?”
“Yeah, Mom,” Pound Cake said, and his usually happy features gave evidence to his effort with the strain etched upon them. “Just one more page.”
“OK. Make sure to come say hello when they get here, alright?”
“Can you help me with this word right here, Mom?” Pound Cake asked, his little finger placed upon printed ink. “I’ve never seen it before. How are you supposed to say it?”
“Let’s see…” Coming to his side, the stout mother leaned down and took in the spread of words there for her to digest. A history book by the looks of it, and one more complex than she’d usually seen in her son’s hands; no wonder he was slower than usual today. “’… And after this defeat, the Griffon Empire found themselves falling into continued irrelevance in the world.’”
“That’s how you say it?” Pound Cake remarked, eyes squinting as he took it in again. “Irl- ill-”
“Irrelevance,” said she once more. “Do you know what that means?”
“Nuh-uh.”
“It means not important. So what do you think that sentence is saying?”
“That once the Griffons lost that battle, they got less important because of it. And from what Aunt Pinkie told me about being over there, they… sort of stayed that way for a long time.”
“Good job,” Cup Cake said, and upon his forehead did she leave a kiss, even if it was brushed away with a boyish groan. “Keep it up.”
Try as he might to ignore the affection of his mother, Pound Cake couldn’t keep the grin, albeit sheepish in form, from appearing upon his face. He’d come too far to not let it strengthen his pride.
She’d felt so horrible for him, the shame that had come when so many of his friends and peers had excelled where he could hardly read two words aloud. Those days of coming home from school in tears had torn at her heart like claws in flesh; try as she might to aid him, the mysterious struggle had been beyond her knowledge of fixing. Were it not for Cheerilee’s suggestion to pay call to Princess Twilight, who knew how long it might have gone on. He was not up to speed, nor would he likely ever be, but he was making significant strides. And he was learning to love reading, a young mind delighted with tales of far-off places and the adventures that had transpired there- and the western tales of cowboys, most of all.
Just like his father, Cup Cake thought, and for once such a thing did not bring about melancholy.
Back out to the front porch did Cup Cake travel, and down the street did her eyes fly so as to spot the figures of two women walking towards her Sugarcube Corner, their bags in hand or slung over shoulder. The frizzy hair that positively seemed alight with electricity was impossible to mistake… just as was the neat bun that walked slowly beside, the smallest gleam of light as that fair head turned to the side and allowed glasses to be caught by falling sunlight.
The smile came without bidding, the fluttering of butterfly wings in her stomach by instinct. Ooh, she was feeling those feelings again, and she hadn’t even meant to!
“Hi, Mrs. Cake!” The wave of the hand came the moment the wholeness of a person was in view, her desire to speak words of kindness to another prompting her immediate reaction. Pinkie carried both of the bags across her shoulders and seemed glad to do it, as burdened by the weight as she would have been by the presence of a feather. “It’s good to see you again, sorry for being gone so long!”
“Nonsense, you had every reason to take your time!” Mrs. Cake had missed the helping hand of an experienced adult, but she was not one to begrudge a girl who had enjoyed extra time spent amongst family. “It’s good to see you again, though. Oh, hold on- Pound Cake, Aunt Pinkie and Miss Quartz are here!”
“Well, I must say,” Cloudy Quartz remarked, coming up to the edge of the steps and giving a heavy sigh, “I am quite glad to see your front porch, Miss Cake. What a sight for sore eyes after a long day of travel!”
Cup Cake smiled, glad for both the compliment and its patron. Cloudy Quartz certainly looked tired, a circle of shadowed lines beneath her eyes, strong enough to be seen beneath her half-frames. But there was a new crinkle found there, that of a smile, that made those pools of ocean color shimmer a bit brighter. Her dark-grey hair was done up in its usual bun, and the dress she wore was that of her usual simplicity: checkered black-and-white, with only an opal necklace to adorn her. She was remarkably old-fashioned in her tastes; vintage to some, antiquated to the unkind. But Cup Cake was glad to receive her as a guest, even if the flutter in her stomach was perhaps inappropriate. She couldn’t really help the fact that she found this woman lovely! Not sensuous by any means, but a kindness unblemished by the world and its machinations; there was no one who could possibly hope to make Cloudy Quartz be anything but herself, and that steadfastness was something to admire. If not more.
Cloudy held the plush woman’s rose eyes steadily. A flicker this way and that, for only just a moment, remaining a steady hold as the two widows gazed at one another. There was a deepening of Cup Cake’s smile, and perhaps a light flushing of pink upon Cloudy’s cheeks; but their worlds remained one another.
“Oh, Mrs. Cake, where do I need to take these bags?” The grin upon Pinkie’s face was a bit too knowing for her liking, but enough to rouse the baker from her tizzy. “I have a few things from the farm I thought you could use, so I’ve got this satchel I thought I could take to the kitchen before Mom and I go upstairs-”
“Hmm? Oh, thank you! Yes, take it to the kitchen.” Hold on a second- Pinkie’s loft? No, that simply wouldn’t do. “Oh my stars, I forgot to send you a telegram! I’ve got a different room ready for your mother this time around.”
A look of puzzlement befell the young woman. “Huh? What for?”
“Well…” Cup Cake knew she was blushing; an extremely stupid reaction, considering just how unremarkable this change really was. “I thought- since she’s our guest-” Why was she talking as though Cloudy wasn’t there? Incredibly rude a thing to do. “I’ve done up the master bedroom for you, if you’d like that instead,” Cup Cake offered to the tranquil woman. “I figured you might enjoy a room to yourself while you’re here. Is that alright?”
“Your room? Oh goodness, surely I couldn’t,” Cloudy murmured. “Where would you sleep?”
Pinkie gave her landlady a cock-eyed glance. And a growing grin keen on laughter.
“Oh, I’ll- I’ll be sleeping on the couch. Please, I insist! It won’t bother me in the slightest, I promise.” Cup Cake said it and meant it, even if she was trying to cover herself from embarrassment; the bedroom had become a haunted place for her.
“And you’re sure?” Cloudy looked positively worried about acquiescing, a timidity upon her features.
Cup Cake smiled and nodded. “I’d be delighted if you took it. Please, make yourself at home!”
The sound of clatter behind her came to be as the sight of her young boy came through the screen door, barely screeching to a halt beside his mother as he gave a smile to his favorite aunt and their newest guest. “Hey, Aunt Pinkie! Hi, Miss Quartz!”
“Pound Cake, is that you?” Cloudy Quartz’ eyebrows raised, her smile losing its sweetness to become something gentler. “Why, I do believe you’ve somehow grown taller again. I hardly recognize you now.”
The beginnings of a party took hold of the quiet household, lights being brought to their fullness across the domicile as sound of friendly chatter and movement went this way and that. Pumpkin Cake’s frenzied return about thirty minutes later added to the maelstrom of life, she delighted to have Pinkie back in town and eager to tell of her latest adventure. Was Cloudy perhaps a bit overwhelmed by it all? Perhaps, for there was a small time where she retired to her room and held the door fast; coming from a rock farm filled with quiet adults to this lively chaos that was the home of growing children and one very energetic young woman had to be a shock.
Cup Cake heard the door to her bedroom creak and she made her way from the kitchen to the source, finding Cloudy just now moving down the hall and now more comfortably dressed in a simple navy dress that fell just beyond her feet. A shower, it seemed, had been her goal, for Cloudy’s hair was no longer in its usual bun but instead allowed to fall down upon her shoulders, and the weariness that had dulled her face was now replaced with a relaxed shine.
Don’t say that she looks pretty, Cup Cake counseled herself. But she couldn’t help but get a good look.
“Feeling a little better now that you’ve settled in?” Cup Cake inquired.
“Much better, thank you,” Cloudy answered meekly. “I am glad to be here, but I must admit that I’ve never been all that accustomed to the train. All that swaying about…”
“I never enjoyed it much, either,” the baker said. “Just something I guess you and I aren’t used to.”
“Another thing I’ll leave for the young people,” Cloudy said, and the two women shared a quick laugh. “Your room is lovely, I must say. Thank you so much for giving it to me for the weekend. I hope it’s not too much an inconvenience for you…”
“Nonsense, I’ll be fine,” Cup Cake waved away the worries, “I’m glad to hear you like it. Let me know if you need anything.”
“I’ll be sure to.” Cloudy’s eyes shone bright behind her spectacles, a slight rocking of her movements as she stood there. “Have you been well lately?”
A more private question. They’d asked such things of one another over the past few years since their worlds had ended. The severing of an entwined life had been agony, despite how each circumstance had come to be. What did it matter when heartbreak was all that came of it? The united care for one pink-haired young lady had been enough to bind them in the comforting of one another. When one had sworn to be there for the other, so it had been repeated in kind. And now look at them, actually able to smile and mean it without pretending first. How far they’d come.
But to answer? “I don’t mind not sleeping in my bed for a few days,” Cup Cake admitted.
Cloudy understood, because of course she understood. It was impossible not to understand when she herself had spent so many years at the side of someone else only to now find her other half torn away. “I still only sleep on my side of the bed,” Cloudy murmured. “Limestone thinks I’m being silly.”
“She doesn’t understand just yet. Maybe she will, someday,” Cup Cake said, and by instinct did her hand reach out to hold the hand of her companion. “Don’t feel pressured into stopping.”
Cloudy smiled. “I often find myself wishing lately that someone-”
“Mom! Mrs. Cake! Dinner’s ready!” Pinkie’s lively bellow roared through the house and could not be misunderstood, the summoning scent of warm food following after to aid in their beckoning.
A conversation for another time, it would seem, for Cloudy took her locks and set them to their usual placement in an instant. “Shall we?” The farmgirl inquired.
“Baked chicken with mashed potatoes and green beans,” Cup Cake said. “I hope you’re hungry.”
Dinner went well; the liveliest conversation Cup Cake had heard in ages, if truth be told. Her children were more like their old selves with a friendly, familiar guest in tow, more apt for conversation and good cheer than had been their norm. Cloudy Quartz was not the most conversational, most animated of people, but she had seen three children to adulthood more or less all on her own; to attend to such youthful beings was hardly of any effort. Her tranquil sweetness combined with Pinkie’s excess verve, and the tired baker hardly felt the need to struggle to keep things under control. It was the closest semblance to normal she’d felt in months, if she were to be honest. Like a spouse was there across from her the other side of the table, able to command the senses and emotions of her offspring in ways she couldn’t.
I wish this was the norm.
“Miss Quartz, how long did it take for you to get here?” Pumpkin Cake asked, a half-mouthful of mashed potatoes swallowed as she spattered out her question. “Was it a bad trip?”
Pumpkin, not with your mouth full!” Cup Cake chided.
Cloudy seemed not to notice- or at least gave the grace of appearing not to. “It took me and your Aunt Pinkie quite a while to get here,” was the answer, she herself taking a spoonful of potato to make things equal. “I left my Igneous’ rock farm early this morning to get here, and we even had a delay on our way. I’m not much of a traveler, so I’m very tired.”
“What do you even do on a rock farm? Aren’t rocks everywhere?” Pound Cake asked.
“Oh, we mostly make sure they’re fit to use elsewhere,” Cloudy replied. “People like to use stone to make all sorts of things. So when your Aunt Pinkie was about as young as you are, she would help me, her Daddy, and all her sisters to help make sure we had good stone to send to everyone all over the kingdom. Sometimes, if we were really lucky, we’d get notes or letters from nice people who would tell us all about the nice things they were doing with the stone they’d bought from them.”
“Did you build a lot of houses?” Pound Cake inquired.
“Oh, quite a few,” Cloudy answered. “For lots of children, just like you.”
“Any palaces, like for Princess Twilight or Princess Celestia?”
“I think we were a bit too late for things like that,” Cloudy smiled, “And too early. Sometimes you just don’t get to be around when all the sort of exciting things start happening, and just get to watch people do them.”
“Has your life been really boring, then? It sounds like it sucked,” Pumpkin Cake remarked.
Cup Cake wanted to fall somewhere through the floor. “Now, what is with you two today? I expect you to behave!”
“I’m just asking, I promise!” Pumpkin cried, promptly falling back to the M.O. of being a fretful little girl; few knew how to manipulate emotions like she did. “I didn’t want to be mean.”
“Oh, you sure wanted to be something like that,” Cup Cake said, and by no means did she wish to let this falsity pass her by. “Now you apologize to Miss Quartz, right now. She’s our guest and she’s been very kind since she arrived. Remember, she’s Aunt Pinkie’s mother!”
Pumpkin bit her lip and knew her pride would have to suffer; older, self-aware, and stubborn, she had grown beyond her age and had yet to develop the maturity to match what her mind could offer. Today, she had been bested by someone wiser than she- and also less patient. “Sorry, Miss Quartz,” Pumpkin Cake said, and her low voice suggested that she might actually mean it. “I wasn’t trying to be bad.”
“I know you weren’t. But thank you for apologizing,” Cloudy said. “I know what I do seems super dull and boring for someone so young as you… that’s alright. Sometimes it is, even for me. I just like the calm at the end of the day, where I can sit there on my porch and watch the sunset after a day’s work. It feels nice to have that time to be quiet and still be happy.”
“So kind of like Mom when she sits on the porch after the bakery’s closed?” Pound Cake asked. “Do you wish you had someone to make out with, too?”
Cup Cake gagged on her chicken and wondered if this was how she was to die- laughing. Cloudy was struggling, at least, trying to maintain some semblance of dignity even if she too was desperate for a good chuckle. With two adults gasping for air and two children wondering what on earth was going on, it all fell upon the one lone adult left to be sensible even if she was nothing but.
“Pound Cake, that’s- that’s a little much,” Pinkie Pie murmured, trying to reduce the tension immediately, though her lips were so eagerly poised for a burst of mirth that she could barely string a word together. “Come- on now, you ca-n’t say things like that-”
“Well… he did!” Cloudy said, she descending back into her mirth and was unable to resuscitate herself for some time.
Cup Cake wasn’t at all sure how she pushed through dinner, considering the circumstances. By no means was it awful, but goodness, the flurry of emotions that came with it! There were so many difficulties she had to endure, especially with parenthood being right there and demanding that she do her job. Pumpkin Cake and Pound Cake were still children, even if they had a head on their shoulders; guests were the anathema to childhood manners and tonight was eager to prove it. At least, she told herself later, it wasn’t something of malice; Pound Cake was just a creature of great inquisitiveness and hardly ever meant ill by it. Intrusive questions from children were the way things were.
“I hope it’s alright to ask, Miss Cake,” Cloudy said as the group brought dishes to the kitchen for their final cleansing. “But might I make use of your swing out on the porch? I do so love to enjoy the early hours of the night out in the weather.”
“Of course! You don’t need to ask such a thing,” Cup Cake assured her. “Would you like something to drink while you’re out there? I have a bottle of wine, if that’s your palate-”
“Just tea, thank you,” Cloudy said swiftly, almost the hint of alarm in her voice- but just as quickly to a smile. “My apologies. If- if you have any tea on hand, I would be glad to enjoy a cup.”
“I’ve got you, Mom,” Pinkie Pie declared, strolling towards the sink with kettle in hand and seeing it filled. “Does chamomile sound alright?”
“Yes, please,” was the answer. The elder woman gave a smile and a small curtsey, excusing herself from the room and out towards the coolness of the spring night that awaited her.
Cup Cake followed her trail outwards as she went, watching until the hem of her dress had long departed and the slam of the screen door had met her ears. Had her home been too loud to be enjoyed? Perhaps present company was too much; she might just have to speak with her children about tact, if dinner conversation was anything to go by. There were far too many things that could be critiqued.
As though sensing the disquiet, there came a voice of unexpected reason to provide tranquility. “She’s tired after a long day. You all were great!” Pinkie said, bringing the last of the plates to the sink so that the pink-haired matriarch might see them properly scoured. “It’s the liveliest house she’s been in since- well… since she was here last, I guess.”
“And you’re sure it wasn’t too much? She seemed to want to excuse herself rather quickly…”
“Nah, you’re fine. She only left after you started to clean up and told the kids to get ready for bed!” Pinkie paused in her movements, turning to give her landlord and friend a strange look. “What’s got you so nervous?”
“Nothing.” Said too swiftly.
The silence wasn’t deafening, pregnant, overpowering; it just was. Not calm before the storm like so many of the lively young woman’s many bouts of stillness and instead a quiet thing. Just what did she ponder, now, Cup Cake wondered? Goodness, it wasn’t as though she had no inkling of sense, Pinkie could perfectly sense what she felt- ‘twas the woman’s touch. But how she felt about such things might be a little more difficult, considering her attachments to both sides.
“She’s been lonely a lot lately,” Pinkie said softly, coming alongside the widowed woman to help scrub at dirtied plates with sponge in hand. “I know she doesn’t say much about it, but still. She was really young when she and Daddy got married.”
“It must have been quite a shock for her. It… it wasn’t like she had a choice, correct?” Cup Cake inquired.
Pinkie shook her frizzy head. “Nah, she did what she was told. And I guess that sounds really bad to a lot of people who don’t know how things were for our part of the world, but she never complained. And Daddy was a good guy to her, even if he didn’t always say a lot. I don’t know if she would’ve chosen him if she’d had a choice, but… she loved him. And they had a good life together. And they made me and my awesome sisters! And they always made sure I knew they loved me, so I guess that’s not too bad for some poor girl out in the middle of nowhere.”
Cup Cake gave Pinkie a smile, finding one given in return. It was true that the poor confectionist had been gifted so little early on in life; hardly two coins to rub together, her parents struggling to put food on the table. But they’d produced such a wonderful young woman who had brought such life to her small, little world. Though she’d been a little older when she’d first arrived, not really hers to nurture and raise, the sweet baker had always found herself looking at Pinkie as an oddball child that she loved as though her own. Chosen, cherished, and valued even to this day. Especially after so much sorrow, the presence of one who’d been so strangely attuned to her emotional needs had been wondrous. For all her mirth and silliness, Pinkie was a wonderful friend- and daughter.
“I… bet she wouldn’t mind a little company,” Pinkie suggested lightly, looking out through the window above the sink and towards the porch beyond. “You should take her tea out to her. Maybe even make yourself a cup. She gets chatty at night.”
“I think she wants to be alone for now, Pinkie,” Cup Cake said.
The oft-vivacious girl gave the quietest of chuckles and shook her head, if only just. “I think she wants to be alone with someone else, honestly.”
She knew full well what that meant; an equal, one who would know the shared suffering. A terrifying thought. “Pumpkin and Pound need to be put to bed.”
“Well, I can do that, can’t I?” Pinkie replied with a lightness to her smile. “I’ve got it. They won’t mind me tucking them. I mean, unless you told them to worry about me showing up or something.”
“Hardly,” Cup Cake laughed, and thusly she surrendered her place at the dirty dishes so as to acquiesce to another’s will. “You sneak.”
“I prefer matchmaker,” Pinkie called back.
As she pushed open the door to her front porch, Cup Cake was struck by the quiet that surrounded her. The stillness of starlight, the emptiness of the world that came from a land without motion and movement to see it passed along. When was the last time she had come out here of her own accord and really let the world’s emptiness fill her? Let the silence spin her around? She knew not the true answer, only that it was not long enough. This should have been done years ago… because the ache that might come after words were shared could be something unbearable.
“I hope you don’t mind a smaller cup,” Cup Cake said as she approached. A pair of tea mugs were in her hand and available for distribution, particularly awaiting the grey-haired beauty she had come to value. “I didn’t quite make enough water for boiling, but they should be alright.”
“It looks more than fine,” Cloudy Quartz remarked, taking one of the mugs in hand and breathing in the sweet scent of chamomile that filled its depths. “Ooh, my…”
“I’m sorry for my children, by the way,” Cup Cake said, and even though she took the seat beside this woman she trembled. “For everything they said.”
Cloudy was left a bit surprised by that. “Goodness me. And what did they do?”
“I’m sure you don’t want reminders of anything-”
“They’re children. I hardly knew what to do myself, at that age. I don’t even think my girls knew what much to make of things like that when they were that young.”
It sounded too much like an excuse. “Oh! But I know-”
“I’ve been a little more around the block than you, I’m afraid,” Cloudy Quartz said, and this she said most wistfully; there was sadness in her voice, even if it did not seep into her smile. “Children are strange things. They don’t have a filter. Can’t you recall all the silly things you said when you were young?”
“I- well.” She certainly could, but whether or not she wished to was another matter. “I don’t think that excuses things,” Cup Cake said. “They should know better.”
“They can be taught. In time,” Cloudy replied sweetly. “But for this instance… don’t hold it against them. They seem so lovely, and they’ve suffered enough.”
That much was true. Cup Cake didn’t know what to say next, what to do. How could she, when the one who sat apart from her knew all the exact same agonies? Her daughters were even old enough to feel it in full. The very idea that she could have something to say in reply…
“I love them,” Cloudy said softly, her smile so warm it may as well have held the softness of the sun. “They’re still so happy and sweet. You should be proud.”
“I’m afraid it wasn’t enough,” Cup Cake fretted. “They’’ll grow older someday. Hate him for leaving.”
“Not so long as you’re there to remind them of the truth, I think,” Cloudy said. “Teenagers are even more fickle than children. But I doubt you’ll let them not have a good head on their shoulders.”
“Do I really seem that sort of parent? I feel like a chicken running around with her head cut off.”
“Maybe just a bit. But I don’t know if there’s any parent who doesn’t feel like that sometimes.”
“Oh.” So she said. Because there wasn’t much else she could say, could think to say. This wasn’t the time in her life nor the period of the day for grand gestures; anything that came after this was going to be something a little softer and yet more tangible. But as to what exactly it was supposed to be- well…
“I miss those days,” Cloudy Quartz said softly. “Pinkie and Marble were so gentle. And Maud was old enough to make Limestone listen to her and be gentle. It was… it was a good time.”
“I believe it,” Cup Cake said, and through her voice the words came in a croak. The unintentional weakness that wormed its way through her! “They’re your little girls, after all.”
“Yours will turn out just fine.”
“But will they?” Cup Cake asked, the tone in her voice a fretful pitch. “Goodness knows how Pound Cake would be if Princess Twilight hadn’t been able to help him. I didn’t do anything, I didn't even realize something was wrong.”
“You asked for help, dear. I think that’s good enough an answer,” Cloudy said. Her voice was so soft, gentle beyond what words could express. Like the warmth of summer and the gentleness of the cool air of fall, all combined and there to touch against human condition.
“I wish I knew what to do. As in really knew what to do,” Cup Cake murmured, eyes out into the dark and beyond this wearisome world. “They deserve better than a fretting mother. Always worrying about what to do.”
“You’ve done more than well enough to see them this far.”
“But is it good enough?”
“It is. But I understand wanting a helping hand, even if it's just for your own sake. Heaven knows the number of times I needed Igneous' to keep my head on my shoulders.” Cloudy gave a wry smile, looking out into the darkness of a quiet village as countless memories seeped through her head. "I can't imagine how hard it would be to raise a family alone."
"I can tell you stories," Cup Cake said. And how she could, all of them seeped in the guilt of inadequacy. Frustrated, constantly relying on Pinkie for a breather when she could hardly stand it, when she needed to run to an empty room and simply let the tears flow because she needed to break down for at least a little while. She was supposed to be getting more comfortable as time went on and the seperation grew longer, but why had she only instead managed to stagnate? Some mother she was. "I hate having to ask Pinkie for help every second of the day. Someday she's going to get married herself and leave us behind to make a family of her own. She shouldn't feel like she's tied down to her landlord, of all people. She's young, and... deserves to still feel like she's free."
"But you wish you had someone to rely on all the same," Cloudy guessed.
"All the time," was her answer. "I- well."
"If it helps, certainly I wouldn't mind accomodating, if that's alright with you."
Cup Cake wasn’t stupid, though heaven knew she looked it. Over to Cloudy Quartz did she stare, and goodness was she glad to see that smile there for her to soak in. She might have thought things a dream otherwise. “Cloudy, surely you didn't just suggest- suggest yourself.”
“Well… Consider it a testing of the waters, I suppose,” Cloudy said gently. “I’m getting older, and heaven knows my girls know it. But they keep insisting I get out of my shell, and that just ‘rotting away on the farm’ is a terrible way for me to be. I think they think I’m still some eligible bachelorette or something!”
But goodness, wasn’t she? Those locks weren’t frayed and worn down by time to the nub just yet; the lines about her eyes were that of weariness, not of age. The body had betrayed her, but what was to be expected? It wasn’t something abhorrent- Cup Cake rather liked what she saw. All it was was time softening something good into something greater. The more she took it in, the less reason she found to be upset by any of it at all.
“You could still be married if you wanted to,” Cup Cake murmured.
“Do you really think so?” Cloudy inquired, and the tone in her voice suggested she might actually mean it. “I feel like I’m so much older than other women I know. Heaven knows Igneous and I married young-”
“I guess I wouldn’t have noticed,” Cup Cake replied.
Cloudy smiled. A true smile, something of deepened feeling and heart that hadn’t come to her in many a year. But just in case-
“I really am old,” she said with a touch of laughter.
“Not that old,” Cup Cake reminded her, looking at those crow's feet about her eyes and deeming them hardly woth the notice. “Besides, I’m fat.”
So there was a little bit of extra roll there, not anything that would make one stare. “Not that fat. Perhaps one might call you… plushy.”
“Then what do I call you? A fine wine?”
Cloudy blushed a fiery red and promptly tried to talk down such words, but the reaction had been enough to make Cup Cake feel a little bolder, and on did her words go. There was more to say, more gentleness to be shared; in time, they found the strength to say it openly without fear of reprisal or worry at all. It might even be well-received.
But just in case, there were a few things to check.
He could hear their laughter. It was a good sound to hear, especially since it came from the lips of his mother.
It just so happened to really be coming from his mother, and he hadn’t heard her laugh like this in years.
He’d begged for the opportunity to stay up a bit longer; his sister had called him weird and had gone to bed, too disinterested in the affairs of the family to worry about what their mother might be up to. But Pinkie knew him, had always been willing to give him a little more leeway. Besides, she’d been eager to spy herself. And now there they sat, together on the couch and listening as best they could to the conversation that took place outside.
“She used to talk to Dad like that,” Pound Cake remarked to Pinkie, he recalling the days he could barely remember. “Are they supposed to talk to each other like that?”
“If they want to,” Pinkie said. She was trying her best not to laugh; it wasn’t a cruel sound by any means, but her mother had no capability of flirting- and she was the one winning over Cup Cake! Goodness, if I hadn’t kept insisting they hang out together…
“Do- what would happen if they get married?” Pound Cake inquired. “They’re acting like a couple does on V-”
“Don’t break the spell now,” Pinkie chided. If there was one thing you never remarked on today of all days, it was that. Her mother didn’t even know!
“S- S-sorry…” A pause. “Am I going to have two moms, or something?”
“I-” Pinkie peered through the window and felt her eyes grow to the size of saucer plates. Oh. Well, it was a natural sort of reaction. And about time, too, she’d been pushing for this for months.
Best get Pound Cake off to bed. There was likely to be a lively conversation in the morning.
Author's Note
I ran out of time for the ending; I've been so many different places in such a short time, I didn't do this story enough justice. I like the concept, at least.
Happy Valentine's Day, everyone. May you be loved like I never shall be.
Enjoy, I guess.
