But I don't want your couch...
“But I don’t want your couch. I want you, grandma!”
Viator was walking his grandmother to the train station. It was late autumn and it had started getting really cold and dark. Leaves were blowing around in a strong wind mixed with rain, but it didn’t blow through the shield spell that the older mare was maintaining. Viator was upset, but his grandmother remained calm.
“I know, Terry darling, but I can’t be around forever, can I?”
“I know! I just don’t wanna…”
His voice trailed off. There was no use in denying it, he’d heard what the doctors said anyway. And there was no use denying his grandmother was getting quite old, too.
“There, there. You were always a sensetive colt, Terry. Always will be.”
“I’m a stallion now, grandma.” He tossed his head subconsciously, trotted a little more proudly.
“Then prove it and stop fussing. It’s not the end of the world, I’m only dying, that’s all.”
“But grandma…”
“Look, Terry, I’m going blind, aren’t I? I can’t paint any longer. Not much use living if I can’t paint, is there?”
He started slouching again. It was true, her vision was going and he knew it bothered her a lot more than she let on.
“Yes, grandma…”
They went on in silence for a bit, turning around the corner to the main street, and the train station was coming into view now through the gloom. The old mare cleared her throat.
“I’m giving all my paintings to your dad, and I want my art material to go to Mauve.”
“But she won’t have a use for-“
“I know! It’ll annoy that old nag to no end!”
She started snickering, and Viator stared at her in disbelief.
“Grandma!”
“Oh don’t tell me she doesn’t deserve it. Tried to stop my son from doing what he loves, didn’t she? You’re not letting her do that to you, are you? Promise!”
He nodded. “I promise.”
She looked up at him, defiantly.
“You’re gonna go to Canterlot, aren’t you, Terry? You’re gonna go there and show them that paper of yours on teleportation, and you’re gonna find yourself a nice mare, Terry. You hear?”
“Yes, grandma.”
“One that’ll take good care of you. And you better put some meat on your bones, your ribs are sticking out. No mare is gonna want bruises on her back from some stallion’s ribs jabbing her…”
“GRANDMA!?”