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Spirit Weaver
by on July 1, 2021
Canterlot was quiet in the heat of the day. The sun reflected and refracted off the white stone buildings, causing the cobble streets to be nearly unwalkable surfaces. But Spirit didn’t mind this. She’d felt worse, for sure. She had something much more important to deal with than nurse burned hooves today, after all. And she knew she’d not be on the stone for long. She would pause outside of the gate that she needed, before sucking in a deep breath. Canterlot Hills Cemetery.
Soon, her hooves were resting on slightly-too-crisp and dried out grass, rather than scorching rock. She moved with purpose, still, slipping away into the further reaches of the cemetery. Back where the gravestones were getting more worn with age. Some had mosses and lichens growing atop them, and some were completely unreadable. The final resting place of those who were doomed to be forgotten. But, Spirit had one site that she made sure wouldn’t feel forgotten. She stepped up towards it, and her breath caught in her throat.
Laying atop the grave- the grave of an unnamed filly, born and deceased on the first of july- was a bouquet of flowers, already dropped. Only a moment did the unicorn let this bother her. She shook her head, quietly, and stepped forwards, reaching into her own bag, to withdraw her own bouquet. She set it on the ground next to the others- her own daisies looking almost meek next to the grand pinks, purples, and reds of the other one. Spirit would sigh, before taking a seat beside the resting site.
“Looks like your mom beat me here, huh, kiddo. Sorry to worry you- I didn’t think I’d make it into the city in time. But, I did my best. I’d hate to miss another of your birthdays, and all that, y’know. You’re probably one of my best friends- even if ya don’t talk much.”
Once more, Spirit reached into the bag. She pulled out a small stringed instrument, and began to strum it. She hummed along with it. No words- no full song needed. But she knew that her little friend loved music. She knew it would help put her at ease. And, in that sense, it put Spirit at ease, as well. One stint of music down, and she’d set the instrument aside. She let the sun beam down on her face. She slipped her cloak off her body- it kept the heat in too much- and slid that into her bag as well.
“I’ll be in town for a few days, kiddo. I’ll see you again before I leave. Gotta say my goodbyes. Happy birthday and all that. You’d be twenty-six today, wouldn’t you? Damn, really getting up there, aren’t ya?”
Spirit stood up from her seated position, and stretched, her back popping in a few places, “I think I need to head out- find somewhere to rest. Got a long few days ahead of me. The life of a hunter ain’t easy, and all that. You’re… lucky, in that sense. Didn’t have to grow up and learn what the world was really like. In a morbid way, I’m almost envious.”
And, just before Spirit could take her first step away, she felt a sensation. Eyes upon her back. She sucked in a deep breath through her nose. It smelled like earth, herbs, and dried flowers. She knew that scent.
“Taproot. How long have you been sitting around? Were you just waiting for me to show up to the kiddo’s birthday?”
The taller mare would approach quietly, before standing beside Spirit. Her black mane hung over her bright green eyes, set in a deep brown face. She would sigh, ‘You know you don’t have to call me that. You… you can call me mom. Or mother.’
“Yeah? And yet, where were you, for my life? Where was my mother when I needed her?”
“I know. You were young. You were dumb. You made mistakes. We all do. But… really, Taproot? Do you wanna do this in front of the kid?” She would say, gesturing towards the grave.
‘I didn’t have a choice, Spirit… If… If I didn’t do this, more than just my life would be ruined. I’m sure you understand. You’ve made… unsavory choices, right? You're done things you regret? Just… believe me when I say that… if I could do it all over again? I’d change it. I’d do it right. I’d… be a mother.’
Spirit refused to make eye contact with Taproot, instead turning to face the grave, again. Her hoof traced the words and digits carved upon it, “You say you’re here for me. That you’d be there for me. But… what about her? She never even got a name. Did you…. Not care enough about her to give her one?”
Taproot would lean over, placing an arm around Spirit’s shoulder, “No. Not at all. She came from great stock. I had faith that she chose a- or… she would have chosen a good name. One that meant something to her.”
The words upon the stone were starting to get hazy. Spirit sniffled and tried to blink away the budding tears, “Y-Yeah…. I think… in a way, you maybe did name her, didn’t you? You knew she’d… she’d have done it right.”
Taproot would squeeze Spirit’s side softly, and nod, “You know. I think she would have picked the exact name I had in mind for her.”
Spirit would sniffle again, catching herself leaning against the older mare, “Y-You mean it? Really?” She’d ask. She could just barely see Taproot nod, as she spoke, again, “Next year…. Daisies. Her favorite. It’s daisies.”
‘Daisies it is,’ Tap would say, before starting to tug on Spirit softly, ‘And… what might her favorite type of cake be?’
“.... Red Velvet…”
And, the duo would slowly leave the cemetery. A lone gravestone, freshly watered with tears, bearing two bouquets from two ponies. A quiet place to rest. A caring- albeit absentee- mother.
Here lies the daughter of Taproot and Slate
July 1 1995
May her spirit dance among the stars
and weave together hearts as she did ours
Topics: lore gang
Gray Rivers Alto Yuri
I'm not crying, you're crying! >:c cry baby you