“I’m here.”
The words came out as a whisper, shaky and brittle. Monsoon Nixie sat on her haunches, shoulders slumped and head bowed. Her hooves pressed into the soft soil beneath her, carving fresh indentations into the freshly dug earth. A humid breeze gently caressed her frazzled mane, and the leaves of a tall and ancient beach tree danced and rustled above her head. Far above, the first reaches of night were casting tendrils out across the sky, the vast and starry expanse of the universe spilling out onto the azure canvass of the horizon.
“I’m sorry that I didn’t come,” she continued, idly kneading the earth beneath her hooves, finding some strange enjoyment from the process. “I did want to, I just… couldn’t.”
She sighed. “I even woke up on time!” She smirked, glancing up at the smooth stone that stood silent and ominous in front of her. She felt something accusatory in the stillness that followed, and quickly averted her eyes.
“You always get so angry with me when it comes to timekeeping,” She breathed out, something close to a giggle almost escaping her lips. “I didn’t mean to, of course, but I can’t lie, the way your nose wrinkles whenever I piss you off is super adorable.”
A pause.
She bit her lip, and frowned.
“Wrinkled.” She spoke the word slowly, as if taking the time to feel every syllable. “Your nose wrinkled.” She glanced down at her hooves. Soft, damp earth, her furry legs speckled with it. Her leathery wings twitched at her sides, and that familiar rush of adrenaline surged through her body like a burning comet.
It burned out within a heartbeat.
She sighed, wiping a muddy hoof across her face. It came back moist.
“I did want to come today. I was going to, I promise. I just… couldn’t say goodbye. Not in front of everypony else, at least.” Her large ears pressed to the sides of her head, and she inhaled sharply. “I don’t think I can go to the will reading either.” She blinked. “I don’t care, they can have it all. You’re my best friend, and… and…” She choked, her slender frame wracked with a mixture of quiets sobbing and hollowed laughter.
Some time passed before she regained some semblance of control over herself.
“I wouldn’t have wasted my money on this if I was you,” She changed the subject, waving a hoof at the stone, a hollow grin danced and flickered like a dying candle across her sharp features. Blinking away the growing moisture in her eyes, she continued. “I passed by where it happened on my flight over here. Everypony brought you roses. I know you hated them, but roses are what you sent for these shindigs, right?”
The quiet nighttime ambiance was all that answered her questions, the mares wavering voice being the only thing to break through that quiet cacophony.
“You always said that you hated roses.” She began once more, braving another peak at the cold stone slab. Hard, smooth granite. Soft and flowing italics with the most beautiful name she’d ever seen and spoken inscribed into the polished surface.
“I hate them too, with a passion.” An owl screamed in the distance, but Monsoon barely registered the sound, too entranced by the sound of her own voice, her eyes tracing over the words inscribed on the smooth granite over and over and over. “They’re cliché, I always prick myself on the thorns, and they’re an absolute pain in the ass to keep alive.” She frowned. “You’re constantly cutting out the dead stems and dying flowers in order to make room for all the new growth…”
She gazed at the sky quizzically, tilting her head to one side. “Very high maintenance…”
The stars were very beautiful, and they reflected in the black pools of her eyes, but the night had not yet reached its zenith. They stared back at her with what she would once have described as indifference, though now Monsoon had to wonder how something that had never lived, never loved, never tasted the very things that made life so delicious and warm, could ever have the arrogance to cast judgment on those who dwelled below their immense and endless sprawl.
“The house I grew up in had roses in the front garden.” She glanced at one of the bouquets with mild distain. The colours practically burst out of the dismal greys and earth tones that surrounded them, providing a crimson and emerald slash of colour against the drab. “And no, before you ask, I haven’t been up to see my parents yet.”
She snorted, nostrils flaring, and pawed the ground with a hoof.
“I, uh…” she bit her bottom lip, hard enough to sting. “I never really figured it out. Death, you know?”
Monsoon Nixie breathed out a long and pathetic sigh, her shoulders slumping as the muscles surrounding het ribcage finally relaxed, the Thestral suddenly appearing far smaller than before.
“You’d have thought I would, given my job and all. It’s been a constant part of my life ever since I entered adulthood, but…” she twirled her hoof in the air, struggling somewhat to vocalise her thoughts. “But I don’t think I ever really understood it. Till now, I guess.”
A long silence filled the night. It was painful. Very painful.
Something that felt close to an eternity but couldn’t have been more than a few seconds passed before the next words came forth from Monsoons trembling lips.
“You’re dead.” She whispered.
Silence filled the spaces in between, everything and nothing rolled into one.
“You died.”
Monsoon wanted to scream. Or fly. Or burn the whole damn cemetery to the ground, till nothing was left. She ultimately did none of those, instead remaining frozen to the ground, like some grim statue standing vigil.
Alone.
“I didn’t ever think that somepony as… alive as you, would one day just… not be.” Her nose wrinkled, perplexed. “I don’t get it.” She gazed at the inscriptions on the stone once more, eyes narrowed. The muscles of her face twitched.
“I always thought I was able to stop ponies from dying,” she began again, hugging her wings closer to her body. “But you still died, and I guess I don’t know anything when it comes down to what matters.”
She almost laughed. “What am I meant to do now?” She asked the air, almost expecting to hear a reply. “I… I don’t… I can’t…” she stumbled over the words, her breathing growing more and more frantic by the moment.
“I… I couldn’t k-keep you alive, no matter how much I loved you…” She spoke with a strained, undulating tone, punctuated with tiny little sobs. “I… I loved you-“ her body heaved, her heart threatening to burst through her chest and crush her sternum. “O-of course I loved you. I’m so, so sorry.” She slumped onto her side, the freshly dug dirt grazing her fluffy cheeks. The whole world faded away, and Monsoon realised that she was so terribly alone.
“I don’t know why I couldn’t tell you that before.” The words came out as a jumble, not that it mattered. “I should have told you every single day. Y-you…” She faltered, suddenly feeling incredible anger swelling from somewhere deep inside.
She slammed her hoof down across the ground. And again. And again. A terrible wail slipped past her lips, quiet at first before surging into a scream. She shouted obscenities, slamming her hooves and head against the cold ground over and over and over again.
It still didn’t make sense. It never would.
Soon enough, Monsoon’s screams had morphed into some hideous combination of laughter and sobbing. She turned to lie on her back, her body twitching as she struggled to breath through it all, her wings splayed out across the dirt beneath her. She glazed up at the stars, regarding them with strangled curiosity.
Perhaps, for the first time in her life, she could see just how pretty they were. Dizzying splotches of blues and purples grabbed at the edges of her blurry vision. Steaming bands of distant galaxies dipped and weaved their way in between one another, so numerous and vast that she would neve have a hope in Tartarus of coming to know them all.
She tilted her head, gazing up at the leaves of that tall beech tree.
The wind laughed at her. The leaves shimmied on the branches. Ciccadia’s chirped in the undergrowth. The world kept on spinning.
“Very well.” She managed to whisper through her laughter. “This is our moment.”
Monsoon closed her eyes, losing herself in the madness of it all.
Author's Note
This has been sitting inside me for a few weeks now. Apologies for any grammar mistakes, I wrote and published it very quickly.