Chapter 5: The Loss of Heart and Mind [Unedited]

Chapter 5: The Loss of Heart and Mind

Journal Entry #32

Woke up to a clear day today with the sun blazing through the window as it always has. That kestrel stared out the window, at a cat who had found its way to the roof. Having some imaginary standoff to see who could strike the other first. Such actions easily blocked by the glass panes. I've yet to name that little thing; its been days.

I looked at the date on the calender as I patted down and parted my frazzled mane away from my eyes and saw that it was the weekend and a day I didn't have to work. Which was nice as my hooves and legs are still a bit sore from walking here through that rather dark and scary forest. It was a wonder how Zecora could take comfort in living in such a place. I'm quite comfortable here as it is, not sure I'll ever move too far away.

As usual, I went downstairs, grabbed some breakfast and went out to help out my mother with the bees. She casted a shield over me for protection but I think they were pretty used to our presence by now, after all these years. We gathered the honey from five of the nests that were surprisingly filled to the brim with honey. Unusual for the middle of winter. Jarred up the honey in some newly designed jars by Glazier, a glass blower that recently moved and was already making some of the local headlines. The jars had this ornate pattern of bees and honeycombs lining the rounded edges.

After finishing that up, I helped tend to my sister, who had recently started to become rather ill after I arrived home. It was unfortunate, but perhaps it was due to her handling of so many letters and working as hard as she did that drove her immune system down. Mom always told her that she would wind up working herself to death if she didn't slow down. She was down with a small fever, nothing serious, but it had the potential to get worse so we kept her on the couch in the living which was on the opposite wall of the fireplace. I left the house, leaving my parents to her while I went out to visit Flight Gear's workshop.

He had already begun to construct a small proof-of-concept airship using sleek curvatures and a newer, refined design of complex mechanical parts that made up the engine systems. I looked around the docks to see if he was outside, but I think that the cold was impeding his work so I entered his shop through the ornate wood and rod iron doors. I could smell the forging of metal from inside, seeping through the seals of the windows. The sound of a bell chimed as I opened the door, a sound I hadn't heard here before. A recent installment perhaps, it would be more convenient for him in the long run.

I saw Flight Gear standing behind a stone counter, flexing a beam of piping hot steel into a proper shape that met his requirements. After he was happy with the form, he submerged it into a large tub of water whose source came from an underground spring. “Flight Gear,” I called out to him. “Been awhile hasn't it.”

He turned around and lifted a pair of dark tinted lenses away from his eyes. They were tired and worn, as if he hadn't slept for days. Bags and wrinkles, little bits of yellow dust tucked themselves in the corners. “Oh, hey. I didn't hear the bell ring. My senses have been all out of whack for the past few days, working on this commission.” He set the lenses down and pulled the piece of metal out from the water. “You came by to check your equipment, right?” I nodded, he took a deep breath. “Of course. You tore those things up pretty well, made me wonder what the heck you did, but then I remember the structural integrity issues. I was positive it would work well enough.” He shook his head to keep himself from spewing out numbers and facts. “I've made several adjustments.” He pulled the flight equipment off from one of the higher shelves in the room being sure to keep it out of reach and out of sight of curious visitors. “You won't have to put nearly as much stuff this time around. You'll still have to wear the engine pack though. The wing protection is replaced by shield magic that covers your wings using a receiver system using some simple communication magic. Its a win-win for you and I, as  I won't have to remeasure your wings each teach they get screwy.”

“Understandable. I can't help but feel that you're a little upset over the matter.”

“Oh, I was, but I solved the problem. Problem solving is what I do with this stuff. Innovating and reinventing everything that deals with flight. I've learned to live with it, as we all do. Anyways, go on and give that a whirl for a few days, come back and tell me how it works out. I'm gonna go take a nap.” I began to leave the store and as I opened the door, Flight Gear went down some stairs to his living space. I heard him call out for his wife, asking her to keep an eye on the store.

I ventured to the small and local pet store and looked through one of their list of names for birds. There was one name that caught my eye, Yukon, my uncle's name. I asked the cashier for a band with the appropriate tags that I could place around the kestrel's short leg. He was a large stallion with a similar coloration in his long coat, mane, and tail. He was on my mom's side of the family an the only one to have a single name. His venture north was great, the ice and snow covering everything created such a serene peacefulness that he decided to stay there. One day he came back, tired and weary not from walking the great distance and through the mountains that split the land, but to give mom a letter. Something she would give me when the time was right, she told me. Ever since he came back, he was hospitalized and passed away when I was just growing out of my colt years. I'll always remember his last words, “When you get the chance, visit my cabin in the north. Burn it down, for me.” I remember being so dumbfounded that I couldn't answer, neither could Apricot. She loved Yukon as much as I did. I still wonder to this day, what he meant by that.

Now that I think about it, maybe naming the kestrel Yukon may not have been the great of an idea, but the little thing seemed to have loved the name. He loved flying around with me

Journal Entry #33

Few days passed since my last journal entry. Busy got better, Flight Gear finished his small working prototype, and I flew with my new equipment- which was an incredible feeling. My wings were still healing, but they were well enough to fly again so long as I didn't perform any outrageous maneuvers. The snow seems to be clearing away, local forecasters predict rain as early as next month.

I was back to working my usual routes. I visited Dream Seer's house again, to tell her what had happened in Ponyville. She wasn't bewildered, but she did raise a brow a few times. “Sounds to me like someone has plans for you.” she remarked. I was inclined to agree, but what would they want, I'm just a courier; a messenger.

Journal Entry #34

All of my adventurous dreams seemed to have ceased being. I just close my eyes to blackened frames of light and wake up to sun setting my room ablaze with light.  I think I can see why Yukon had moved up north, but I'm sure there were other reasons for it.

I went into work again and much to my seemingly irritable state this morning, Busy handed me a letter that was addressed to me from an old friend of mine who had moved to Manehatten. He went out there to work as some sort of journalist that helped to promote rising stars. His name is Idol Find, short and simple, strong. He was a big talker, but not without backing up his words. We're both great friends, but I wondered why this was the first letter he had sent to me since he had left last summer.

For some odd reason, I could barely remember what he looked like but the more I thought about it, the more I recall. I know his mane was a blinding white and his coat was some sort of mixture of sequin and black, had some white freckles too. All I can remember was his odd, light voice that would sometimes crack when he had trouble speaking. He had a strong accent, smaller words were a bit drawn out and longer ones shortened. His vocabulary was one that drew from the richer, more noble families here but he could easily adjust.

I opened the letter after I got done with work. It was, fortunate news of his success, he invited me to join him a small party. I couldn't help that something else was up, though. Normally he would only contact me when something goes sour. We both knew each other well enough to know that even if we were apart, things were good. There was also a certain someone that he wanted me to meet as well, a mare so brilliantly beautiful in his eyes, he couldn't think straight. He didn't want to give any details other than that, mentioning that seeing her in person would be better.

Busy allowed me up to two weeks, she was reluctant to give me the days off, but when she looked over a few charts prospecting deliveries and other vital information, she said that she would be able to figure something out but she warned me that the next time I needed time off of work that I would have to wait for at least a month before asking for more time off.

Journal Entry #35

Made it out to Manehatten. Brought Yukon with me, who seems to be growing a bit larger than what he should be. Maybe it's what he has been eating. He slept pretty well on the train, as did I. Flight Gear traveled with me until he had to transfer to the Canterlot train at Ponyville. I brought my scarf and pendant, as I always have. I wished for Apricot to join me, but she was apparently busy helping to organize a family reunion outside of town. I didn't bring my flight equipment with me, mainly because my wings still hadn't completely recovered from before.

The train ride was nice, but there was someone else on the train that I thought I recognized. I just wasn't entirely sure. They dressed up in a bonnet, blue framed glasses, and a light blue shirt to match. Everything was familiar, yet I couldn't pinpoint a name. I shook the thought and fell asleep until I felt the train come to a halt. I gave my train ticket to the a unicorn who punched a hole in it to denote the fact that I exited the train. The same pony I saw earlier also got off the train.

I let Yukon out of my bag for a bit. The little guy was starting to get bigger than the bag though. He enjoyed stretching out his wings and flying around for a bit. After finished, he kept himself perched on my back, just between my shoulders. In some ways, he was kind of like an owl.

I took a look at the letter once more, to see the address that was written on the back as well as a small map that Idol clipped from an atlas. He drew in red ink, a line leading from the train station to his home. He also had a photograph attached that was of the entrance to what looked like a rather large and luxurious apartment complex.

The streets were crowded and diverse with ponies of all sorts of colors, a few were even performing tricks on the sidewalks and painting stylized portraits. It was a lot more lively here, but I still felt extremely estranged from these people. Maybe it was just the side effect of being a stranger in such a new place. All the magic around them swirled and danced about their bodies, which seemed to imitate stress. The clouds only appeared for a short moment before vanishing. Something that didn't usually happen when I did see them. Perhaps it was because of the stone, which today, looked like a fire opal. A favorite of Apricots, preferred them over diamonds.

I walked by many high end shops that specialized in selling a set of particular items. A place called Zircon's Jewelers, all sorts of extravagant pieces of small stones sat in carefully crafted bezels and hoops. Another store sold pieces of art on large canvases that was either incredibly abstract or realistic. Both the building and the sign was unique in their design by having mostly round edges and square bay windows. Quite a few stores focused on just selling clothes of all sorts, which for me seemed somewhat odd. Perhaps the richer folk around here prefer to wear them to show off their status. Bookstores and cafes were also abundant. What I began to notice as I neared ever close to the apartment complex, was that a majority of the buildings appeared to have a predetermined size in which they could build in. Their width and depth were standardized, but their height could stretch high into the sky. Staring up at their tops could make anyone's necks sore.

I eventually got to the building's entrance. The photograph didn't catch its more extravagant features, its bells and whistles that truly made it stand out. The primary one being its one-way glass that made up most of its exterior. Every room could be pointed out by small boxy units that hung at specific spots. An extended awning branched out from the entrance, covering the sidewalk up to the the road. There were even these little gardens placed in large marble stone slabs that held the most beautiful flowers. What astonished me the most, was that there appeared to be an extension off of each side of the building at a certain elevation. Big, round pads that stretched out precariously over the shorter buildings that were tucked in around its base. Directly across the road, was another building that was exactly like this one and connected by a large bridge.

As I approached the entrance on my side of the street, I saw a plaque that labeled the building's date of finished construction, dedication, and its name, The Gemini Towers. I was greeted by a well suited pony who opened the door for me. A friendly hello before I stepped on the short cut fluffy red carpet that lead to the front desk. The foyer was large, grand, extending upwards at least three or four floors. They had some well trimmed bushes inside, a bank, and a small coffee shop down here it was hard to tell what was on the floors above. Needless to say, the building was very futuristic compared to everything around it. At least, it does to me.

I asked the mare who attended the desk, where Idol Find might be. She told me the thirty-ninth floor. I could either take the stairs or the newfangled elevator system. Newfangled, the last time I heard that term was when Idol used it to describe part of the airship's that Flight Gear built. My mind seems to be littered with thoughts of him, since I received that letter. I've been remembering so much about him. Our departure from one another wasn't with the best of wishes though.

I walked over to the elevator doors, noting to myself the distinct clapping sound my hooves made against the floor tiles. It was such a distinctive sound that I clicked my hooves a few extra times while I waited for the elevator to come down. They're actually incredibly easy to use and I can see why they're so afraid of it. Traveling up and down inside a metal box with no windows is a bit scary. There was however, a gate that could retract once the proper floor was met.

It was strange at first, feeling my gut shift in a vertical direction without the aid of flight. Almost made me spread out my wings on instinct. It was a silly thing. I watched the antique hand move across the dial, counting off the floors until hit the 39th floor. Pressing a simple button on the inside wall of the elevator lead me there. Already, I began to wonder what the view of the city was like from this level and how vast it truly was.

I left the elevator with three others who went about their own ways and glanced at a number I wrote down, the number of the room the mare at the desk had given me, 3939. It was kind of funny, those were his two favorite numbers, both for the common sayings they were associated with. Third times a charm, cats have nine lives. His third cat was his favorite, the first two ran away as was their nature. His cat as always stuck by him. Fern, he called her.

When I finally found his room, I pressed a small button and from behind the door, I heard a series of chimes ring in two notes. Ding-dong, it rung loud and clear to my ears. I waited there until I heard the locks begin to move. Deadbolt and a chain pulled away to reveal his face to me once more. “Evening, Letter. Been quite some time hasn't it?” He opened the door further and allowed me inside, proceeding to close it after I passed him.

“It has.” I turned to face his likeness, a unicorn. His mane a series of three distinct blues, tail a solid white, and coat long and well groomed in a sleek silver color. It seems that he has let go of some of his more noble habits.

“Excuse the mess, I haven't the time to prepare and living without a butler has well, changed my life. Having someone do something for you all the time is such a high privilege that you tend to forget that you have to do it now.” As he flicked his magic around the different rooms, he took the lead organizing everything to his liking. Books upon shelves, floor lamps upright, tidying the desk, discarding unnecessary papers into a bin. With a final flash of his sky blue magic, he fluffed the pillows to the couch. It was a large suite, holding everything a normal, small home would have. It appeared fit for at least three. “Go ahead and make yourself at home in one of the guest rooms down the hall.” He pointed. “Or if you wish to enjoy the magnificent view, go over by the living room window. Something like that I know you'll love. I can take your bag if you don't mind.”

“It's fine, Idol.” I walked toward the large single pane of glass that keeps ponies from falling to their doom, if they were so unlucky. It was incredibly tough for such a thin pane, a slight tap of my hoof against it told me so. “Some glass,” I remarked as I stared blankly out towards the horizon. Manehatten was massive extrusion of rectangles and pale colors. It was remarkable, but the scenery was just dry and irritable to me. “This city, its too plain. How do you even stand it here. The folks seem nice but everyone seems to keep to themselves.”

“All that from your walk here from the train station, huh? While it's true that a majority of the population here do tend to selfishly tend to themselves, that's the way a lot of them are forced to live due to their social standing.” He began using the glass like a chalkboard, using his magic to demonstrate the way majority of ponies lived here. “There are still those few who generously wish to make everyone happy.” He drew crude figures of ponies that horded their bits and those who would give it away charitably. “As we grow, in population, the median becomes greater. Eventually creating a dog eat dog world. The richer sit in their thrones of gold and the poor hobble around in crates in forsaken alleys.” He sighed as he dispelled his power. “I came out here to find a job as a manager. A pony who could promote the abilities of coffee house talents and bring them up to the highest pedestal.” Turning away from the glass, my eyes followed him into the kitchen where he began to make a meal. “In all honesty, living out here has been life changing. I still wish to do something to bring to the table, something that can bring the rotting and the rotten to one place. Give them hope, not from oppressive form of government but to let them know that they can get somewhere if they try. Try until their legs buckle and their minds ache.”

I spoke up, concerned about his change in nature, “Idol, you're talking like a stallion ready to martyr. What's gotten into you?”

He drank a bit of cider before speaking again, “Do you not remember what I said before I left home? Packing my things with you saying that leaving Clackerton was quite possibly the worst thing I could've done?”

“Barely. You know my memory isn't that great.”

“They told me I only had a few months, its been nearly a year. I'm going to crash soon, crash and burn. Become a fire that burns forever.”

I had a feeling that it was coming to this. “Gonna be all poetic about it, I see.”

“I don't see why not. In the hundreds- no, thousands of books I've read, only are there a few heroes, protagonists, villains, and antagonists who went out with words stronger than any sword. You've heard the saying, plenty of times, I'm sure.” He had a hearty laugh about it. “You see, Letter, we can choose the way we live to the fullest extent. If it's cut short and not by our own hoof, they'll look back to see what we meant to them. We cannot undo time, no matter how tangled the string is.” As he spoke, he approached me with two glasses full of cider and placed them on the dining table.

“Ease up on the metaphors, Prince Charming. Remember that you're not talking to someone with two dictionaries worth of vocabulary.”

Proceeding to throw one foreleg over my back in a buddy-buddy manner, he slyly spoke, “Still one to throw the clever insults, I see. Then by my word, or so help me, I will not delve into the antiquity of grandiose and verbose character and or characters.”

“Idol...seriously?”

“Seriously.”

“You know we're going to have to discuss how to break this to your family, right?”

“They already know. I told them a months ago and unfortunately, it appears they've written me out of their family. Shame, really. Mother did love me, as did father but they've gone and passed away. Now the estate belongs to my brother and sister whom I know for a fact, loathe me in every way. Their hatred I always found was well, unfounded and tasteless.”

I quickly recalled some of the moments where I saw the two of them hold their chins up high and waltz off somewhere else. “Yea. Guess it's still bugging you then.”

“Correct. Losing your home is heartbreaking, all the more when you haven't seen it in awhile. Perhaps I'm more upset about not knowing what's going to happen to it all.”

Silence befell us and he pulled away to continue making his meal in the kitchen. “So, what do you have in mind for your big project?”

“Bluntly speaking, a fountain in front of Manehatten University. It needs to be remodeled as some pony went and destroyed the thing. It was nice, but I think I can make it better. I invited another friend over, but it appears that she's running late. My guess is that she walked into a bunch of fillies selling cookies. Which are remarkable, by the way.” I swept my gaze back out the window, watching a formation of pegasi clear some oddly colored clouds away from a port, so a large zeppelin could land. Its breaking through of the stratus cloud almost made it seem like it would crash. “Watching the zeppelin? I can't tell you the number of times I've just sat there and watched, waiting for some screw up. Damn perfectionists.”

As soon as the zeppelin stopped moving, the doorbell rang its hidden chimes. I heard Idol walk to the toward and unlock the chained bolt. I couldn't help but think that living here in Manehatten had hardened Idol's usually happy personality. I heard another set of hooves clop into the entry way and the door echo as it closed. A familiar voice greeted Idol, my ears perked up but I refused to see who it was. “You would just not believe how cute those fillies were, Idol. They were even selling your favorite thin mints and samoas.”

“Of course. I'll be snacking on those all night.” He joked with the mare. “I'll get your bags to your room. Go ahead and get something to drink from the fridge, I'm sure you're parched.”

“I'll leave the cookies on the counter, then.” The sound of hooves came closer as I pulled my tail closer to my body, like a cat would. She whispered to herself, “Those wings and mane sure look familiar...Letter! I didn't know you knew Idol.” Now her voice was all too clear and she appeared rather excited.

“Hey, Rarity.” I could see her faint reflection coming off the glass. “I thought I saw you on the train here.”

“The same to you, dear.” I could hear her take the bonnet and sunglasses off, placing them neatly on the table. “Tell me, how is your new pet doing? Fluttershy wanted to send you a letter, but she still as nervous and shy as ever.”

“He's doing great but he does tend to sleep pretty often. I named him Yukon, after my late uncle.” I answered. “Hasn't run off on me yet either.”

“I'm sorry to hear about your uncle.”

“It's alright, Rarity. It was a long time ago.”

“He's snuck back in to my bag while Idol and I were talking. I can get him out if you like. I need to get him to stretch out his wings a bit more anyways.”

“Sounds like something you should be doing.”

“Eh, got another week before Cuffs says its okay. I'll probably have to learn how to fly again.”

“I see you two are already acquainted with one another so I shall not bother with introductions.” Idol broke into the conversation. “Dinner is ready, I'll plate everything out accordingly.”

“Idol,” I said, “you really don't have to.”

“Ah, but I insist. Politeness and manners, Letter.” He said dishing out the salad into three separate bowls and pouring another glass of cider for Rarity. “With that attitude, you'll never be able to get Apricot's hoof in marriage.”

“We're just friends, Idol.”

“Your face says otherwise.”

I Rarity covered mouth, hushing her laughter. “I could always give you some advice if you need it.” she chimed in.

I grumbled to myself, unable to retort. I suppose Idol was right. “Let's just eat, I'm starving.”

Journal Entry #36

Last night was really quite enjoyable. It was nice reliving, in a sense, our memories of our past together. Idol and I had actually met that day when the guards thought of us as pickpockets. It was really a coincidence that we met then and there. We both wondered in awe of who it was who saved us that day. I filled him in on the story. Told him of the wolf, who essentially saved the world with a song and dance performed by two of his companions. How the wolf carried two swords and used magic from carved stones along with a horn, just like a unicorns.

We soon chatted late into the night, having delightful conversations that rotated their topics. Eventually, we exhausted ourselves with our talk and headed to bed. The three of us slept well into the morning.

Rarity had gotten up early and left for some important business matters. Idol woke me up and invited me out to go to one of his favorite cafes. I gladly accepted his offer and traveled with him, leaving Yukon in the suite. We rode the elevator down and headed outside where the fog was barely beginning to reach the building's overpass. The streets were more heavily crowded than when I had walked them. We came upon a place called Cup of Blues. It sat on the corner of some back alley and a main road. I think I may have passed by it yesterday.

The two of us went in, took a small round table meant for two and the stools along with it. It held a nice view of the road and the dainty intersection that was further down. What appeared to be some sort of power plant sat at one of its corners. It was difficult to see what the other corners had. In the opposite direction, a faint glimpse of the The Gemini Towers peaked out from the dozens of other, smaller tenements.

The inside of the cafe was simple and elegant; small yet large. Using appropriate hues of dark green and dark brown accented by tan and black. A dull, neutral blue was only used for a single stripe that marked the dark velvet curtains on a small round stage. Up there on stage a contrabass was played by a gray pony with black mane and tail, and a purple treble clef cutie mark. Her composed figure was a marvel, it was clear that she had been playing it for years. Using that bow to tug the strings in a the slightest manner to produce a sound that bounced the heart. Another pony was barely visible behind the curtain, she was white with a two-toned blue stripe mane that showed off an eccentric personality. She wore dark tinted sunglasses and a pair of headphones. Standing behind a board with a multitude of knobs, she tweaked some of them a fair bit, as if to adjust the input into some of the small speakers that were spread throughout the rest of the restaurant. The music suited the early rise quite well and somehow, described the fog that still had yet to form into clouds.

A waitress came by the table and asked if we preferred anything to drink. I asked for some green tea, Idol asked for a coffee with two creams. She handed out two large single sheets of stiff paper  enveloped in laminate and on those were breakfast items fit for one pony. Small omelets, coffee cakes, tea cakes, eggs, pancakes, waffles, french toast, and other drinks that were available. I took my time ordering an omelet while Idol knew exactly what he was going to get. By the time the waitress had come back, the song that was playing ended, but another one began. There was no applause, there didn't need to be any. As if we were all giving silent thank yous.

After the kind, white freckled waitress took our orders and our menus, Idol started spoke up, “I wrote to you about that pony I was enamored with, right?”

“You did.” I replied

“Well, what do you think of her?”

“She's very generous, it's her nature to be. I'm sure you know that all ready.”

“I do. I would've like to have proposed to her, but with my disease, it's not going to happen.” He stared down at the coffee in a silent frustration.

“Have you at least told her something?” I asked. “You know full well that is better to let someone know than to sit on your death bed, unable to say anything.”

He knew I was referring to one of his family members, whose name and relation I had long since forgotten. “You're right, but I'm just not sure I know how.”

I huffed some air out of my nose and smiled, recalling his constant bombardment by mares back in school. “Here we are, the biggest player in school failing to figure out what to do. You've got something, I know you do.”

He sat there, quickly thinking of something. “I suppose I could take her to the place where we first met and had dinner together. However, at some point I'm still gonna have to tell her about my disease.”

“Then do it. Ask her out, replay and relive those events. Tell her when you two get back from that date. She's not that shallow of a mare to split with you after telling her such a thing.”

“You make it sound easy. How long have you and Apricot been dating, again?”

That was a question that came completely out of the left field. “I'm not sure, honestly. I guess it would have to be recently, after I got back from Ponyville. Though, we've been practically side-by-side for as long as I can remember.”

“Known love for so long, not sure what it is.” He said the words so quickly I wasn't sure if I heard him right.

“What?”

“Oh, nothin'. Just silently quoting one of my favorite authors.”

“Right... When do you think you'll be asking her?”

“I think I'll ask her tonight, set the date for tomorrow. I've a long appointment with one of my clients later. She has been needing some help finding some good photographers that can offer her some good critique.”

“That sounds interesting.”

After the conversation's stagnation, the waitress brought out the food along with a small tab of paper, denoting the bill. Idol jokingly flirted with her, questioning whether or not the freckles on her face were bits of powdered sugar that had mistakingly found their way there. “I assure you that they're not.”

After we finished, Idol payed for the bill and we went back to the suite. Yukon happily greeted my return but Idol seemed to question the bird's appearance. A little afterward, Idol groomed himself, prepping and nitpicking every fold of his pinstriped dress shirt and shifting his bowtie to just the proper angle. He instructed me on a few things before leaving, mostly how to operate the radio and the cinema projector. The radio tuned to twelve different stations and he had four different movies that he held as his favorites. If I grew tired of those, there were plenty of books he kept on the same shelves as the movies.

I didn't feel much like watching a movie or fiddling with the knobs on the radio. So I comforted myself in the bounded pages of my favorite story about that pegasus that hunted those massive storms. Before long, I found myself asleep and waking to the noise of a zeppelin passing by the building. Unable to fall back asleep, I entered this entry into my journal.

The sun was setting again. That sun always seemed so fleeting, but so are the stars.

Journal Entry #37

Last night, as it turns out, Rarity and Idol wound up going to their first restaurant as soon after he asked. They had a delightful time there and even went to an opera afterwards. The Masked Phantasm was the play and it was a story that I've seen once before at my school. A story about a mysterious figure who slowly chases off the ones that he loves so he can spend his final days alone. However, in his true love refuses to leave, after discovering that the mask belonged to him. Only a few of his friends and family came back aside from his lover. He passes and they mourn him but what made the ending so chilling were the last words he spoke, “It was not I, who wore that broken mask.”

They came back tired back happy that they had spent their time together. I fell asleep on the couch while watching the film version of the play they had seen. I awoke to the slam of the door and the sight of the blank white screen. Yukon slept in my mane, making a bit of a blanket out of it. He almost blended in with its auburn color. Which also reminded me that I haven't gotten a haircut in quite some time.

That's beside the point here. Idol and I went to that coffee shop again this morning. I asked him how things had went and he remarked that reliving those events again was so satisfying. Then I asked him if he had told her about his disease. Apparently, they were having such a fantastic time that he had completely forgotten about it. I wanted to scold him, but it wasn't my place to do so. So instead I warned him that if he didn't, things might be worse. He promised that when they met up again, he would tell her. After that, we went our separate ways for most of the day. I've been idling here at the suite since, watching all those zeppelins pass through the sky unconcerned with the rainy weather.

Every now and then I would skim through one of the many books he had on his shelves. However, I began to notice something with them, they had torn out certain pages or crossed out certain words crossed out with a mess of ink. With a few, there were even notes on some of the paragraphs or sentences. Others contained summaries of the chapter if there was room. Then I remembered the fountain that he was commissioned to build. Knowing him, he was probably collecting them to reference from for his work. He did have an artistic side aside from his primary talent.

Journal Entry #38

I fell asleep on the couch again, to the same movie but I had the radio on as well. Playing some blues station similar to what I heard in the coffee house. Only the melodies were much quicker and shifted in their timing more. The leading contrabass was accompanied by a small group of brass instruments and the gargling of a didgeridoo. The resulting sound was something otherworldly, from a place that existed well outside the confines of Equestria. Tribal, in a sense.

That's what I remember falling asleep to, I woke up to still air and the crash of plates and glasses on the floor. Yukon hid himself from the sound as I threw myself off the couch and into the kitchen. Idol lied there, breathing with dry heaves. I hefted him up and brought him back to his room and quickly covered him up. I didn't care for the glass and ceramic that pierced my hooves and foreleg ever so slightly. I had to do this before, when we were younger. He had a feverish fit of coughing and cold sweat along with a quickened heartbeat. This was his disease, it would assail him every so often with no way to tell when it would happen again.

I left his room for a moment to think about what to do. Doctor Cuffs was on call for me, perhaps I could call him for Idol. The only trouble was how to contact him. It seemed like coincidence that he always wound up being at the same place I was. Then an idea struck me, birds of prey usually have very keen eyesight, several times better than our own. I rummaged through the pages of my journal to find a quick sketch I drew of Cuffs. Something to remember him by, however crude. I also noted his main features: eye color, coat, mane, tail, and cutie mark. Yukon peered over my shoulder as I read over the page, and then I asked him, “Think you might be able to help me find him?” Yukon excitedly nodded his head. I guess he taught himself a thing or two in the time he spent alone.

We headed out into the hall, leaving the door unlocked so we could get back in. One floor up there was a landing pad. Unfortunately, the clouds haven't quite cleared away from them yet. At the time, I wasn't thinking too clearly as the morning fatigue was still irking at my legs. Yukon stayed firmly grasped to my mane as I climbed a flight of stairs in the towering stairwell. My steps echoed so loudly in there and it smelled like burned rubber had left its nasty scent. The floor above was much the same, aside from the fancy entry way which lead to the landing pad.

When I stood out there, with Yukon on my shoulder, I tore the bandages off my wings and flared them outward. In the silence that fell, I closed my eyes to get a feel for the wind. It was still enough for a perfect dive. As the bandages collapsed onto the soft grass-like surface which held some sort of target symbol in white paint, I leapt off and down towards the streets below. Yukon did the same, following me in every roll and every pitch. It was interesting, flying through a valley of almost perfectly vertical high rise buildings that block out the light during a sunrise. A new flight experience like this was always fun but that wasn't why I came out here for.

I maintained a steady flight speed for some time, cruising around the Gemini Towers and the various other buildings that surrounded it. I did that until Yukon tugged on my mane pointed me in a direction where he thought he saw him. I gave chase to until we came upon an empty intersection. I recognized the corners and saw the coffee house. If anyone could recognize a face, it might be a waiter here. It was kind of strange venturing in here alone.

I approached  the front podium to the sound of that contrabass yet again but its rhythm was more upbeat this time. I politely asked the waitress if she had seen anyone fitting the description I had: a stallion with a dull gray coat, light blue mane, tail, and eyes along with a stethoscope cutie mark. She pointed to a table sat to someone who fitted that description exactly. I thanked her and approached the table. She seemed a little concerned but we had talked before, so she trusted me for the most part. “Doctor Cuffs?” I said, pulling myself into the seat across from him.

He peered up from his newspaper, “I told you I would be on case something happened to you, Letter.”

He didn't seem to care that I figured out that he was following from a distance. “A friend of mine, he's come down with an illness. His current symptoms are fever, cold sweat, dry breathing, weakness.” I paused so he could soak in the information. “I just want to know if you can help, the matter is extremely urgent.”

He grumbled under his breath, “Very well, just let me grab my things, I'll meet you outside the Towers.”

He got up, left some bits for the waiter, walked outside and teleported away. I ran back to the Tower's entrance and waited for him. Pedestrian traffic seemed rather slow today. I was incredibly worried for Idol. We both knew that this was coming, only now I feared he wasn't going to get back up.

Journal Entry #39

My fear was realized. Idol took it to heart, that his days were coming to an end. I'm not sure how I'm going to be able to handle this.

Cuffs and I took our separate ways to his room; by elevator, by flight and stair. I opened the door and rushed over to Idol, who had fallen out of bed, complaining about being hungry. Cuffs quickly tucked him under the blankets, leaving his forelegs and head exposed. “Go get some saltine crackers and ginger ale if he has any. I'll figure out the root of this.”

I went into the kitchen and rifled through the shelves while stepping on the broken dishes. I found the crackers, I found the ginger ale, and I found a decently sized glass. I went back into the room and saw his magic twisted about until it completely covered Idol. Idol didn't seem to care, but seeing him so vulnerable like this always bugged me. “Doc, I'm back.”

Cuffs pulled out a fold up tray from his large suitcase and instructed me to place the food and drink there. “This isn't standard procedure, but it's enough until he's moved into a proper place.” As Cuffs pulled his magic away he sighed heavily. Somehow we both knew the answer, his eyes were weary from telling many before me. Perhaps that's why he wasn't working as much as he used to. “There's really nothing I can do. No magic can save him, no medicine, no miracle. It's a genetic disease and it's surprising that he has even lived this long in the first place.” He took a deep breath as he began to pull out a stand to hang a bag of water from, shifting his focus back to Idol. “This IV will keep him hydrated. The most you can do now is keep him comfortable, and wait.”

As Cuffs began to pull away, Idol swiftly grabbed his coat, “How long, Doc?”

“By my estimate, a week at least, two at most.”

Idol let go and let out a dry series of coughs. “Good.”

Cuffs wasn't all that disturbed by his response. It was obvious he had seen it all before. “Don't push yourself too hard. Your magic will be useless in a few days.”

“Aw, well, that's fine.” Idol joked even when he was dying. “Stop by again, would you?”

Cuffs assured him he would. I stood at the other side of the room, just staring at Idol after Cuffs left the room. There was a single chair beside his bed and I felt myself staying away from it. My feelings were, and still are, extremely mixed. Maybe I'm scared.

For a moment his magic flickered and the aura surrounding him collapsed inward, receding into his body. I kept myself against the wall until Idol asked me to come over and take the chair. I did so, silently and one question popped into my head. “Did you tell Rarity?”

“I did. You were right, she's not that shallow. Her heart is so naturally generous, it's like she holds the element for it.” He paused to let his breath catch up with him. “Tell me, how did you know she wouldn't leave me no matter my condition?”

“Any true friend would stick with you until the end, Idol. Even if at some point, we had to go separate ways. Lovers, I think, would do even more.”

“Those are some strong words, Letter.” Idol coughed a few times before biting into a cracker. “Rarity should be coming back from the store soon, if she doesn't get caught up with helping the Filly Scouts again.” He gazed at the ceiling and for a moment it seemed like he saw something beyond this reality. “That was strange,” he whispered. “I thought I saw something peering through.” There was a long silence between us for quite some time. Minutes feeling like hours but I could tell from looking at his eyes that he was thinking of all of the things we had done together. “Letter, I ever tell you how great a friend you are?”

“You have, plenty of times, Idol. You've always said it sincerely.”

“Maybe when I pass, you'll know how much more.” He grinned with a cough.

I took the moist rag off his forehead and squeezed what water I could out into a bowl on his nightstand. “Maybe. I'm still not sure how I'm going to handle this.” I said, placing the rag back into its former place.

Idol laughed until his lungs seized it with a fit of coughing. “Jeez that friggin hurts. I always forget how much it does, it's a funny thing. Anyways, you'll figure something out, you always do. No matter how much it hurts, you'll figure it out, I know you will.”

“Reminding me of my mother, Idol.”

“I always thought rather fondly of her, you know.” He glanced over to me and caught me in my writing. “When did you pick up writing?”

“A little after graduation. A doctor said that I had some memory loss issue that wouldn't kick in until I'm older. Figured I would start keeping a journal as a reminder.”

“That's...unfortunate. But hey, at least you're not kicking the bucket already.”

“Yea.” I felt my gut twist and my throat stiffen saying that. It was the cruel truth of the matter and neither one of us had control over it. “Say Idol, what are you going to do if you make it out of this one?”

“I'd retire, probably, move to a cottage out by some woods just outside of town. Marry Rarity, have a kid or two. I would like that, I'm sure she would too. Maybe I'll name one of them after you.” He humored. “What about you? You've always had a liking to those woods.”

I thought about it for a moment, “I've always kind of had something similar. Always thought castles were kind of nice, but that's pushing it. I've honestly never put much thought into it. Like you said earlier, I'll figure something out.”

“Heh, yea. You will, always do. You always do.”

Journal Entry #40

Third entry in a day and my last for today, I think.

Rarity came back a bit before sunset. I greeted her at the door way with silence. My eyes gave off the news and I told her how long he had, how long Idol had left. She dropped the groceries she had with her and with this devastation, her mouth was ajar and her hind on the floor. She simply couldn't fathom the words to say to him. I moved and pulled her in close. We embraced in the longest hug, she cried into my shoulder. I heard Yukon let out a short sorrowful chirp. When her tears dried up, I attempted to let her go but she tightened her grip. “Just a little bit longer, please.” When she pulled away I saw that some of her eyeliner had run down her cheeks. It was a shame to have her beautiful white coat stained by black ink. She wiped her cheeks, only to smudge the ink further. “Thank you, dear. Would you mind leaving the two of us alone for the night?”

“He's all yours, Rarity. Always will be.”

I think I'll be ending this journal entry here. Idol's condition and my memories of him and these juxtaposed emotions are becoming too mind numbing for me to write any further. Maybe I'll take a short break from this. His condition is more important than my writing.

Journal Entry #41

It's been four days since Idol fell ill. The thickest of blankets and the softest of pillows don't seem to be having any effect at keeping him warm. His fever had went away but his body always seemed like it was locked in a freezer. It was hard for the both of us seeing him in that condition. Cuffs routinely went back to him every three hours and set up some of his paperwork concerning the illness in the living room. Rarity barely left Idol's room. Even at night, she slept in the chair with her head against his chest. I've never seen a mare so distraught by grief until today.

I had taken it upon myself to answer the door and make meals when Cuffs wasn't around. I asked him why he hadn't moved Idol to a hospital, he answered that moving him would cause undue stress to his body and mind. He added that it would be better for him to pass here, than at some strange place he's not familiar with. He had a solid point, I couldn't argue with that.

The ponies that came to visit were all very popular stars in Equestria. They didn't come in droves, which was nice. Also good to know that the ponies that Idol helped came by to say their goodbyes and reminisce their memories together. There was one mare who dressed like a model with oversized clothing and wore dark tinted glasses. I think Photo Finish was her name. Another famous personality was Vinyl Scratch who was accompanied by her close friend, Octavia. Those two had a rather unique relationship, the serious and the relaxed. Now that I recall it, they were both the ones that played at the coffee house on the street corner. Lastly, a friend of his former family, Filthy Rich. He disdained his first name. Idol always addressed him as Mister Rich. I suppose he held a fair bit of respect for him.

There were more who stopped by but at the end of the day, it was just the three of us who lived here now. The relationship between Idol and Rarity was one that I couldn't quite understand. As I felt myself drawing away from them and watching from the sidelines. Why was I acting this way? Idol is my closest friend. He and I did so much together in our younger days. Played games, celebrated birthdays, ran races, and joked about the finer things in life. Maybe I'm just beginning to realize how much he means to me. My best friend will be leaving the world soon and I'll have to live with that. It's gonna be rough.

Journal Entry #42

The amount of visitors Idol has received has increased lately shortly after news got out that he was ill. Apparently Rarity had only told the few that she knew he knew. Lawyers, professors, doctors, celebrities, managers, and artists. They all gave their best wishes, cried their hearts out, and at the same time remembered him for what he helped them out with.

I remember asking him, later that night, how he came to know all those ponies. “Met a lawyer and then I met a doctor, then I met a writer. They were all down in the dumps and you know where I met those ponies?” He turned his gaze from the ceiling and to me. His watery eyes shimmered in the candlelight. “In that coffee house. They came to me and I offered them advice. Eventually I wound up in the papers and started getting letters upon letters. Overtime, it built up. There are so many others that I've met and so many I remember. I just don't want to be forgotten, you know?” His voice had become groggy from the amount of talking he had already done.

“I think we've all had that thought run through our minds, Idol.”

“Yeah. Guess you're right. There is one pony that hasn't stopped by. He may have become too involved with his most recent work. His name is Statuesque. Grab my contact box by my typewriter. My magic is wearing thin.” I got out of the chair as he shifted himself into a more upright position. Something which he seemed to have trouble doing. Maybe the muscle atrophy is starting to kick in. Something Cuffs mentioned not as a symptom, but something that would happen from laying down for so long.

When I got to the other side of the room, I could faintly see the metal edges of the typewriter softly gleam and it held a single sheet of paper with something written on it. However, it was too dark to see. Beside the small machine, was a roughened surface of a wooden box with a hinged lid and latch made of gold. I picked it up and carried the box back to Idol. He grabbed the key from the drawer in his nightstand and opened it. He rifled through the dozens of index cards. It reminded me of the time I was at Twilight's library, but she could go through more in a blink of an eye. “Found him. Get some pen and paper and I'll tell you how to get to his place. When you do, ask him about the story of the great messenger who saved a kingdom.”

“You realize how late it is, right?” I wanted to question the kingdom bit, but I didn't want to concern myself with my own matters.

“You can always go tomorrow.” He said setting the box on the nightstand. “You should head to bed, Letter but before you do. You want to know where I got a lot of my advice from?” I gave him a some sort of blank stare and he answered before I could ask. “I learned it from watching you. Growing up, you weren't extremely popular. Although, you still interacted with ponies of all sorts. I on the other hoof, was forced to socialize, meet with those who were snobs and vastly out of touch with their hearts.” He tucked himself back in and finished what he was saying. “You're a gift, Letter. If anything, something of a leader. A king even. A king so grand, so wonderful that his subjects would treat him the same as they would treat each other. You'll be something great well after I pass, Letter. But you may suffer, as unfortunate as that may be.”

“You know Idol, it isn't very often I get compliments like that.” I could feel my words stumble. “I've already suffered, you know that.”

“No, you haven't. Trust me.”

Those were the last words he spoke to me that night. I still wonder what he meant by that. No doubt he meant after he passed away. However, I've the feeling that he meant those words on a much grander scale. Then again, maybe it's just the ramblings of a dying stallion.

The morning after that, Idol gave me some paper and on it was a crudely drawn map. He had resorted to using his hooves to write. His penmanship failed him, but it wasn't that difficult to draw a line or two. He had Rarity write down the different streets that lead directly to the residence of this pony that he wanted me to invite.

I did so, traversing through crowded streets until I found a small building on the outskirts of Manehatten. I could see the train station from here, its tracks actually extended through several of the streets nearby. Implying that they still went further east. I came upon a relatively normal house with two floors and a basement. I rung the doorbell, something that seemed to be standard on all the homes around here. When the door opened, I was greeted by a pony that was extremely tired. I asked for Statuesque and stated that I had a letter for him. He slummed the door shut and I heard the name yelled more clearly than his talking voice.

After what felt like a long wait, the door opened to a young earth colt whose stiff looking coat was like white marble. His mane and stubbed tail were pretty much the same and his eyes were a soft pink. I suppose his name was rather fitting. Yukon rummaged through my bag and grabbed Idol's letter for me. I hoofed it over to Statuesque after confirming his name. “A letter from Idol Find.”

“R-really?” The young colt's voice was stiff, his words stammered easily. “I-I, um, thank you.” He opened the letter easily enough, only a piece of tape held it closed. “W-what is this? I don't understand.” Suddenly his eyes became fierce. “W-why should I trust you?”

I lowered myself to his eye level, “Because, Idol and I have known each other for a very long time, since before you were born. He ever tell you a story about a messenger who saved a kingdom?”

“Y-yes. Yes he did. You're that messenger?”

“Indeed.” His face was skeptical, but his eyes were bright about the topic. Idol must have told one heck of a tale to this young colt well before I got here.

“O-oh, he seems to have a project for me to complete. A-and this is his signature too!” He became elated at the prospect of doing a project for who seemed to be his mentor. “I-I'll write something as a reply to him. P-please stay here.”

It wasn't too long before Statuesque came back through the door with a envelope hanging from the end of his mouth. I grabbed it from him and Yukon placed the letter into my bag. “The name's Letter, I'll be seeing you soon, Statuesque.”

It was later that same night that Statuesque came by, pulling several briefcases strapped to a dolly. Most likely to keep his tools together. I answered the door and let him in. He asked where Idol was and I guided him to his room. He was happy seeing him, but I couldn't bear to be the one to give him the bad news. I was sure that Idol would tell him. Rarity seemed excited to see Statuesque as well as she placed him on her lap so that he could see above the mattress. It was almost like they were a family and although they were unrelated by blood, they functioned. They each greeted each other with friendly hellos and smiles. I wouldn't be surprised if somehow, she has already had a child at this point in her life.

It was so heartwarming to see, but so heartbreaking. I think I may have used that term before.

Eventually, Idol got around to showing Statuesque a small model he had built of the fountain's new design. It had a small cutaway portion to show how the plumbing would by laid out and the inner frame that would keep it standing. It was a simple fountain but he had designed it after Rarity's beauty, after her hair at least. Saying he didn't want it directly point to her, so he crafted the fountain to look the way her hair would move on a windy day. He had also developed a series of potential things he could put on a plaque after the fountain was finished but said he was still putting some thought into it. Statuesque gladly accepted the task and would dedicate it in his honor.

Rarity welcomed Statuesque to stay in her room and sleep with her. At his age, he wouldn't know a thing about sexual implications that would imply. He accepted the offer, but only if she read him his favorite bedtime story. She happened to mention the same story that I've mentioned before, Storm Breaker. It kind of made me happy that a colt his age would love such a tale. Rarity and Statuesque left the room to grab a small snack and then head to bed. I stayed where I was, beside the doorway to Idol's room, peering from a distance.

“Letter, come over here for a bit. There's... something I need to talk to you about. And shut the door, if you could, please.” I did so and approached him with a look of concern. “You remember how I said I saw something when I was looking up at the ceiling?” He didn't give me a chance to answer. “Well, I'm still seeing it. Each day it fills with more and more ponies staring down on me. They're ponies I know, the ones that I've met and ones that have passed.” I saw his eyes begin to water up. “Dammit, Letter. I've accepted this fate so many times and yet I'm still scared. Tell me, where do you think we go after we die?”

His hooves were visibly shaking, I reached out and placed mine on his. “I don't know. When my Uncle Yukon passed away, my mother said that he went to a better place. A place where he would be greeted by the most magnificent of deities and that his memory would forever be woven into the earth, marked by a single stone. Yukon always thought that was complete crap, though and said that the only reason we've made up such tales is to fancy it up, so to speak. You know how I am about these topics though.” Idol's chilled shaking calmed down.

“Yea, undecided until you can make a proper decision. If it's one thing that I've always liked about you is your neutrality of certain things and you will only make a final decision until you've ample-” Idol began to cough and heave heavier than usual. “Get the doctor, get him.”

I pressed the button Cuffs had installed in case of such an emergency. He immediately came into the room and began to inspect Idol. “Letter. Out, now.”

I was a bit reluctant at first but I obeyed.

Journal Entry #43

We woke up the morning after that to Idol's condition further deteriorating his body. Cuffs had placed a mask to help with his breathing and started him on an antibiotic to keep his immune system from getting worse. As it turns out, one of his lungs had collapsed and was subsequently removed and the holes patched up. There were still a few blood stains left in the carpet, but Cuffs managed to clean up what he could quite well. With this, his time left here became shortened to just over a day.

Idol's eyes were heavy and weak, he could barely keep them open sometimes. His voice was muffled and much too weak to start talking again so he resorted to what little magic he could use for writing on a large pad of paper. Unfortunately, his once fine penmanship began to fail him as well. I could feel his frustration at the matter but being angry only further diminished his ability to keep himself awake.

Statuesque asked what was happening to Idol. Rarity shuffled him away and had told him the same story my mother had always told me. I listened to her stifled voice she constantly tried to keep clear. However, she pointed out that was if Idol passed which could only draw the young colt into a false sense of security. Idol had his head on his side, he could see her lips move and from the looks of it ,could barely hear her. His eyes just screamed that he wanted to tell him that everything was going to be okay. But all he could do, was just lie there and watch the world unfold around him, without his involvement.

I could feel him screaming, crying, and apologizing.

Journal Entry #44

I'm not sure if I can handle seeing Idol suffer like this much longer. Part of me wants to put him out of his misery, like a bullet to a half-dead animal. The other part wants me to let him suffer and watch his world collapse around him. Cruel thinking, and well, rather dark. It was unlike me to think in such a way. I've stared at the clock for hours at one point just thinking about what is going to happen afterward.

As high noon hung over us, a knock at the door startled my thought. A postal officer dropped a letter through the hinged letter plate. Two large and well-stuffed envelopes popped through. I brought them to Idol and he gave me his permission to open them so that he could read them. Unfortunately, when he did try to read them, his eyes were easily strained. So I read them aloud instead.

The first letter was from an old friend of his who had moved out to the Light Fringe Kingdom. They heard about Idol's illness from one his managers and wrote to give his best wishes, useless as they were, and apologized for not being there for him. They also thanked him for his help for getting him started in his field of photography.

The second letter was from his former family who had selfishly removed him. How they heard about Idol's plight confounds me. It appears that Idol had received a fair amount of money from his parents, something that his siblings wanted and thus tried to convince him through means of the law to give them his inheritance. Idol's muffled words expressed his rage at his greedy siblings. I calmed him down, as quickly as I could, so he wouldn't wear himself out.

Idol pulled off the mask and spoke, “Letter, under my bed is a small trunk with a lock and key. Grab it and open it. I want you to have what's inside, there are things for Rarity as well, so please, give them to her.” I had never heard his voice so dry and roughed. “Consider it a dying stallion's last wish.” I grabbed the small green box with its gold plated framing and opened it with the key he kept in the lock. I suppose he didn't care about its security all that much. He had two packets of information paper-clipped together, one addressed to me, and the other addressed to Rarity. “Read through those after I pass away.”

“I will.”

He put his mask back on.

Journal Entry #45

Idol died today. His body seized to function properly and his mind and heart finally failed him. Cuffs tried to resuscitate him several times and to no avail, Cuffs stopped and marked the date and time of passing.

I pulled his mask off and removed the IV from his vein. The little cups for the EKG were also removed by my hoof. I tucked him in and when I sat back down, I saw that cocky smile spread wide across his face. I'm glad that when he went, he at least smiled.

I sat there by his bedside for hours, grieving over what I've lost. The tears haven't quite hit me yet but I can feel them sitting there. I wanted to look strong in front of Rarity and Statuesque who both cried their hearts out. It wasn't until later in the day, I gave Rarity the packet and she read through it, carefully and thoroughly. As I did with mine.

Rarity had received adoption papers for the young colt. Apparently where he lived was a foster home for abandoned children and he was filling out the paperwork for him to be his adopted son. As it turns out, the paperwork had already went through the proper places and was graciously accepted but in the event of his death or inability to properly raise him, Idol listed Rarity has an alternative parent. Idol even filled out the paper work for her as well. She also received a deed to a cottage that was located at the edge of some woods. He had treated the place as his vocation home as it located well outside of Manehatten, to the west by Neighagra Falls. To help her out further, he gave her a fair sum of money from his inheritance.

I received a fair sum of money as well. He noted that my family could use it to fix up some parts of the house and as a safety net. He also left me a deed to a home not to far away from the house he gave Rarity. I suppose he wanted us to start our families there. He left me one final message as well, “Promise me, that you'll marry Apricot.” I'd like to think I already have.

The rest of his belongings were written out to Rarity.

Journal Entry #46

The remainder of the week passed with a well attended funeral. Everyone who had gathered put flowers in his casket or on top of his grave after they buried it. I remember my uncle's funeral being similar to this. The mares howled like hounds with tears and the stallions reveled in his memory with half drunken words of praise. They dressed in their most formal black color attire, some even veiled their faces to hide their grief.

It was that night too, when I got to Idol's once former suite, when I finally broke. Which, despite its contents of books, plates, antiques, and other items of value, felt empty. His voice left this world for good and I was the only one who saw him in his last moments of life. I sat on my bed, staring at the ceiling like Idol once did and couldn't find the strength to sleep. Somehow I could feel his presence float above me and I could almost hear him say, “I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry.”

I heard my door creek open and there stood Rarity, out of her sleek funeral attire. She approached and sat on the side of the bed. “Letter, I've noticed that you been acting like a stone ever since Idol passed. You knew that it was something he had to live with. Something I didn't know until the last minute. You don't have to blame yourself and there was nothing we could to stop it.”

“I'm not blaming myself. I just don't know how I should feel. I didn't know any of those friends of his. I was a stranger to them, a stranger who knew all about their friend.”

“Then, remember who he was to you.” Her words reminisced what I had said to Idol.

I found myself sitting up and throwing myself into her forelegs, crying my eyes out.